#still not a fan of facing emotions and sitting through certain triggering things like... UGH no.

[blondedingdong]

Omw to therapy. I don't wannaaaa but I know it'll help. Still... I don't wanna.

[1zashreena1]

Emotional Spanking -8

18+, m/f, technically OCxDiego Jimenez [Power]

Summary: Princess has an emotional epiphany, a panic attack, a visitor, and a pleasant disciplinary action. In that order. 

WARNINGS: Ridiculous descriptions and ‘the code is more like guidelines’ outlook on grammar. Is it OOC if the character was given essentially zero development in canon???

SMUT. SPANKING. FEELS. the L word, previously completed kink negotiations, plus size woman+fit man, soft!Diego, immediately followed by hard!Diego, overwhelmed Princess, He Licks Everything, is a relationship happening??, literally no one knows, not even them

A/N:  Princess took on a life of her own and has essentially become an OC. There are infrequent mentions of her description (specifically as plus size) and her actual name in later pieces (its Bicki). She started as self-insert so she looks like me (plus size, white, short, blue eyes, curly hair). If that is not your thing, I totally understand. And do not feel obligated to read this, I will not be offended!

I’m not a fan of “plot” so be aware that most of this series is just meandering through their relationship, angst-fluff-smut whiplash style. But with dick jokes.

This piece is my baby.  My heart is in this one.  You have been warned.

TAGLIST: @chelsfic​​​ @symbiont13​​​ @nicke0115​​​ @bunnykjm​​​ @rosee-sensuelle​​​ @girlpornparadise​​​ @mandoplease​​​ @heresathreebee​​​ @xxsteph-enrixx​​​ @jetiikad​​​ @joalsglasses​​​ @mutantcookiesecrets​​​ @demoncatstone​​​ @squidlywiddly87​​​ @lockedoutofmyotherblog​​ @poeedamerons​

Whoever is banging on your door at 6:45 on a Monday morning is relentless. You know it's not your downstairs neighbors; the second floor apartment is still empty because your landlord is actually very sweet and doesn't just screen future tenants for ability to pay the rent, he tries to make sure they'll fit in with the current tenants too. And the little family on the first floor has that loud-ass two year old. There's no blabbery baby talk and the sound of the impact is damn near at the top of the door. So it's definitely Stranger Danger.

You're just going to wait it out. They have to give up at some point. And you've just spent three days ignoring literally everything in the universe, so really,  the odds are in your favor here.

Except… you live in a tiny little town. The population on the sign says 570, but they were being generous in counting all the farms within a 10 mile radius. No one comes to your door accidentally. People don't wander up three flights of exterior stairs on an old farmhouse in the middle of Pennsylvania Dutch Country while it's barely above freezing and still dark out. So there are two options:

Serial Killer.

Or, ugh, someone who knows you.

They're not stopping and it's starting to piss you off.

 "This better be a fucking murderer!" You mutter as you stomp to the door.  Impressive really, considering your pajama pants are over a foot too long and the apartment is carpeted. You reach the door and turn the deadbolt (banging still going on), unlock the doorknob (really, this is just excessive), and yank the door open with a war cry. 

"WHAT THE FUCK!"

Its Diego.

Its Diego looking... odd? You take a split second to catalogue his appearance, it's like a reflex at this point because you can't not ogle him every time his existence is within your range of sight. He's not wearing a belt?? His shirt is half untucked and his jacket extremely wrinkled. One side of his hair is completely flat, as if he slept on it, and his squinted eyes are very, very red. Like he just came off a three day bender. Or he's been crying, your traitorous brain oh so helpfully supplies.

Diego, frozen mid-bang, also takes this time to look you up and down. His eyebrows raise and his brow furrows, clearly not impressed. You're wearing the same pair of pajamas as the last three days. Mismatched socks (one is orange, the other neon green), the overly long drawstring punjammy pants with one cuff rolled up from your stomping, a shelf bra camisole that lost its ability to function as a bra sometime in the last decade, no make up, and your somehow greasy yet simultaneously frizzy floop of curls.

Softly, but with great feeling, he rasps, "What the fuck, Princess?"

Oh no, this is Not Good. This is so, very, incredibly, horrendously bad. Your right arm tenses in preparation to slam the door in his face. His left hand shoots out to land on the door, his arm taut to hold it motionless. He's keeping the door pinned to the wall so he can continue taking up all of the open space of the doorway with his massive body. You snarl silently at him but let go of the door because you know this is the one man who actually can physically overpower you. And you don't need a shattered door to match your shattered pride.

You aim for unbothered dismissive bitch when you ask, "What are you doing here?" 

You fail spectacularly when it comes out in a tremulous whisper. 

Instead of waiting for an answer you spin around and go left into the living/dining/kitchen largest-space-in-the-apartment all-purpose room. You collapse on your tiny sectional and tuck your feet up under you to sit cross legged. You can hear Diego slam the door and follow after you.  As he comes around the chaise of the sectional you reach behind yourself and grab the crocheted blanket your mom made off the back of the couch and desperately try to hide in it. All you want is to become invisible. Diego, of course, is not going to allow that. Asshole.

"What am I doing here? You have not answered anyone for three days! Not your normal phone, not the phone I gave you, not even a Facebook message from your mother! Your sister told Lisa that no one can reach you. Lisa called Julio! What have you been doing?? Clearly you have... gone nowhere…?"  His speech started off barking but had shrunk to down to a horrified whisper as he took in the state of your apartment.  Everything is everywhere.  There are dirty dishes on the breakfast bar. Hair bands scattered across every horizontal surface. A lone lip balm is abandoned on the floor among a sea of used tissues. 

--------

This is so not the woman he knows. There's no sarcastic snark of an answer. That woman would never leave something as important as a lip balm on the floor. Shit, she uses packing cubes for fuck's sake. As he kneels down to retrieve the tube of mint goop he hears it. The one sound that always makes him freeze up and opens a sinkhole in his belly: She's crying.

This unflappable woman who makes eye contact with all of his men, who never hesitates to lecture him on 'feminist theory', who gleefully stuffs an entire slice of pizza into her face while sitting in the VIP booth at the club with skinny models looking on in horror, and once called his bluff about putting on a show in the back of a limo by winking and telling Julio to watch them as she pushed him to his knees in front of her while simultaneously yanking up her miniskirt… is crying.

 And it's probably my fault. He's almost certain this is his fault. Who else could make her emotional like this? Is someone else important enough to be worth her tears? It had better be my fault. If it's someone else I will kill them.

He looks up to see she has wrapped herself entirely in that weird fuzzy blanket her mother somehow made. The whole blanket creation process had been a mystery to him despite listening to her mother explain it step by step. She even has it over her head like a hood. Which would be adorably hilarious if she weren't ugly crying. Ew, please stop.

It only takes two shuffling steps on his knees to reach her, the living room is so small. He wraps his hands entirely around her forearms and pulls her own hands from her face. How is she beautiful with snot running from her nose? Only for her to flinch backwards. Okay, ouch. 

"Look at me." He demands. She just scrunches her face harder. He tries a softer tone, "Please?"  That does it. Those bottomless eyes come up and they are so, so lagoon green rather than the normal deepest blue of the open sea. How does she do that?

"Tell me. Talk to me, Princess. Let me in." 

------------------

How does he do that? This large, intimidating, powerful, volatile man should not be able to make you feel safe of all things.  Blurting out your feelings to Lisa had been terrifying. Realizing what had just come out of your mouth had brought on a sense of fear so acute it was nauseating. But here you are, staring into that pleading chocolate gaze and wanting nothing more than to answer him. 

You can vividly remember the conversation that triggered this entire mess:

You came home from another insane weekend in New York and desperately needed to ruin your best friend's day with extremely detailed descriptions of your depravity. Lisa being Lisa, acted exaggeratedly horrified to hear that you demanded he fuck Franchesca in the bathroom so you could go down on her after to lick out his come while he then fingered you. Okay, maybe she wasn't  exaggerating… much. But she knows you. She was not surprised that you wanted to watch him rail Franchesca over a bathroom sink but he insisted on trying to choke you with his tongue while he did it. And she is not shocked that you licked Franchesca off in under two minutes-- or came for him just after. Lisa is still laughing about the finality of Diego's abrupt dismissal of Franchesca the second you come all over his hand when she tells you, "That asshole is a full on freak, girl. Perfect for you!" 

And the moment of your damnation, a soft sigh of an admission, "Yeah. I love him."

And you had removed yourself from all human contact for 3 days immediately following that. No social media, no phones, no internet. Nothing.

...so here you are.

His gigantic hands are wrapped around your forearms, fingers so long they overlap his thumbs. You're not afraid of those hands or their assumed capacity for violence. You should be; you know that, you're not stupid. Or maybe you are. After all, you trust this man who runs the most powerful fucking drug cartel in the western hemisphere and you've never even gotten a speeding ticket. While you've been lost in your musings, he released your forearms only to cup your face in those ridiculous hands. Those hands you love, you fucking dumbass. 

No other man has ever touched you like this. Never touched your face with reverence,  handled your body with an almost jealous possession, or ripped your heart open ever so gently with an earnest expression. He listens, enthralled, when you go off on a rant. He watches where you look while you're out and about. Like a hawk, he notices every shiny little thing you linger on, only for you to find it hidden in your luggage on the way home, wrapped neatly in a tiny box. You once told him that you don't like your elbows touched, it produces some weird overload sensation in your nervous system. And he never took your elbow in hand again, shifted to a hand on your lower back (or your ass, of course. Always a classic). He never seems to care what size is on the tag of the clothes he gets you, only that you like them and you like the way you look in them. He throws his head back with booming laughter when you scream obscenities at traffic. He always thanks you when you make food. Even if he does have to peel the cheese off… he just gives it back to you.

You may have gotten used to the private jet, the SUVs that cost more than your parent's house, the way every restaurant where he takes you has no prices, hell sometimes there isn't even a menu. You've even grown accustomed to the jarring dichotomy of coming home to an apartment the size of his penthouse bedroom while still dripping in precious stones and stuffing your new Louboutins in your purse for the three story climb.

But you're almost certain you will never be over the way your cardiovascular system seizes up when he captures you with a single look, or the functional failure of your lungs when his eyes crinkle with laugh lines, the complete implosion of your stomach when those damn dimples appear, or how your entire reproductive tract clenches with need when he licks his lips, and when your brain stutters to a halt because he lays those hands on your shoulders and swipes his thumbs up your jawline to stroke the pulse point under your ears while leaning his forehead on yours.

You realize you've just been staring at him like a moron for what must be for-fucking-ever. You can tell it's been a while because his eyebrows have lowered and he's starting to look a little defeated. You can feel the weight of his hands easing from your cheeks as he begins to pull back from you. Oh no you don't, you gorgeous fucking asshole.

You slap your hands down on his shoulders with entirely too much force and fling yourself off the couch directly into his lap with a level of violence usually reserved for people who won't put their phones away in a movie theater. He grunts with the sudden addition of your weight and teeters backwards for a second before smashing you into his body via the vise of his arms. You bury your face in his neck, where his stubbly beard catches on your stupid frizz, card your fingers through his amazingly soft hair, and start a whole new round of bawling. 

He's kissing the side of your neck, nuzzling into you like he wants to be inside your skin with you. His fingers are spread wide across your back, he's trying to touch as much of you as possible all at once. You can hear a soft, keening whine but you have no idea which one of you is making it. Does it even matter? 

The noise stops when you feel his teeth gently sink into the join of your neck and right shoulder. Oh. Guess it was him. His right hand dips low to palm your ass cheek and flatten you further against him. You automatically squeeze your legs around his hips in response.

You realize he's not hard. The shock of this revelation further delays you in understanding that someone is talking. And that someone is you. 

"Please please, I'm sorry, please." Hiccup. "Its never- I've never been. I'm scared. It's too much and I'm scared." Another sob. "You keep leaving and it's just. What i-i-i-if you don't come back?" A stuttering inhaled gasp. "Who am I w-w-w-without you? What do I do?" A coughing sob. "You m-m-m-make me weak like this and I fucking h-h-hate it!" And you dissolve into another round of wailing sobs. You know you're practically screaming but you can't seem to stop. Your left hand is clawed into his hair and your right is fisted in the collar of his jacket, ruining the Armani. You're fairly certain the mess of snot and drool leaking out of your face isn't doing any favors for his shirt either.

He's just… letting you. Just letting you ruin his stupid expensive clothes and have a meltdown all over him. Like this is okay. Like it's no big deal. His left hand is rubbing circles over your ribcage while you howl. He releases your neck to raise his chin and tuck you up underneath it. Rubbing his goatee over your hair, then kissing the top of your head so incredibly gently. That can't smell good, you think hysterically.

Your sobs are finally starting to ease but he hasn't made a move to let go yet. You start to wonder how long he's going to kneel here holding you. Can it be forever?

It finally registers that his breathing is rough, labored. His shoulders are shaking under you. Now you're legitimately frightened. 

"Diego?" You finally work up the nerve to speak. You hate the way your voice sounds like a small child. "...baby?"  He is slowly stiffening under you and not in the fun way. You start to pull your face back from his neck only for his left hand to shoot up into your hair and hold you in place. It's not painful but it's definitely not soft either. Your breathing is starting to speed up. You instinctively know something important is about to happen. And it terrifies you.

He is holding you so tight its bordering on painful when he finally speaks into your hair.

"Why. Tell me why you fear that I never return. You are not weak. And this is not hate." He uses the hand in your hair to pull your head back. You fight it at first, it's just your nature. Then you squeeze your eyes shut and let him move you like a ragdoll. With no vision you don't know what he's doing until you feel the press of his forehead against your own. He bumps his nose against yours then rubs his bristled cheek against your soft one. You realize he's rubbing you like a cat and it makes you smile ruefully. My Murder Panther.

With his lips pressed right to your ear, he rumbles ever so softly, "Tell Diego, Princess."

Your whole body seizes up with the sensation. Oh, you fucking bastard. You would say it aloud except the undercurrent of fear in his voice gives you pause. He's afraid. He's afraid of you. Of the possibility of your rejection. Just like in the kitchen when he blurted out that he wanted to keep you. The way he froze, paralyzed in fear, after he whispered that he loved you. It's the same soft, lost little boy voice, the slight tremble in tone, the uncertainty. 

And this time...this time, you can't take it. Tears slowly slip down your cheeks as you squeeze your eyes shut even tighter. You remember the night you met. His breathtaking smile when you turned the tables on him. Those damn dimples. When you felt the gun in the back of his pants. The moment you decided to do what you wanted and not what you should. Fuck it.

You press your own lips to his ear, his grip in your hair pliant enough to allow it. He's shaking under you. The fingers of his right hand are digging into your hip like claws, you find the pain grounding. Knowing that you're in control of this entire moment is both thrilling and terrifying. You could break him, right here and now. Fuck it.

And he would let you. This rich, powerful, enigmatic man who has already confessed his love to you. Fuck it.

"Diego.." You breathe into his cheek. He shudders under you and sighs out in a broken whimper. 

Fuck it.

"Diego… I love you."

-------------------------

There's a long moment that nothing happens. Everything is frozen in place. He doesn't even breathe for fear that he'll wake up from this, just like the dream from a few weeks ago.  When he does remember to inhale it's a raspy choke of a gasp. It hurts, he realizes. Is it supposed to hurt? 

His eyes are burning. Taking an immediate red eye flight from LA and then driving three hours to her place was probably not his best plan, but he had been terrified. He had needed to have her exactly where she is right now.

He loosens the grip in her hair and turns his face into hers to rub his wet lashes on her cheek. Her hands are coming forward to frame his jaw, hands so tiny and soft. He has refrained from saying it himself for fear of scaring her off. He knows its selfish and he doesn't care, he wants to hear it again. Over and over. Until it stops hurting.

"Diego?" Her voice is so soft, harsh from crying yet still so high. He opens his eyes to see that she still has hers closed. He slides his goatee over her skin until his lips hover over hers.

"Again." He murmurs, "Please, my princess. Tell me you will let me keep you."

‐-------------------------

This couldn't hurt more if he'd reached into your chest and snatched your heart with his bare hands. He sounds so small and hopeful, so vulnerable. Am I his first? The first person to love him?

You can't stand this man begging for your affection. You find yourself wanting to give him everything.  Your secret is already out; in for a penny in for a pound, right?

You take a deep breath and dive in head first because you're a fucking Scorpio, damnit.

"Diego, baby." You stroke his cheeks, petting down his stubble with the direction of the growth. Just like you would pet any other cat, you find yourself grinning. You open your eyes to see him so close its dizzying. His are shut but his expression is pure yearning, eyebrows drawn down and brow furrowed, jaw tensely solid, wet lashes stuck together in spiky pieces. "I love you." 

He chokes and his eyes snap open to meet yours. Now it's your turn to muck up the basic process of breathing. There's so much everything in his eyes you feel like you're drowning. Every fucking romance novel cliche was right.

"Again." He demands. In typical Diego fashion, he wants it and he wants it now. You can't help your smile growing wide. There's my Murder Panther.

"I love you." You maintain eye contact while leaning your forehead against his. "I love you." Its like you can't stop yourself. You brush your lips over his goatee, he chases you back to ghost a kiss on your lips. "I love you." Its just pouring out of you now.

"I-" Kiss.

"Love-" Kiss.

"You." Kiss. 

You expect him to keep kissing you. To slide that perfectly wicked tongue between your lips and drive you even further insane. But he doesn't. He pulls back to pant in your face, then closes his eyes and whimpers. You watch the play of emotions across his features, so quick you can't identify a single one. He finally gathers himself into some cohesive comprehensible thought and speaks:

"I dont. I have never. You have to, to do the...uhh… help?"

Or not.

You can hear so much in that soft rumble. Fear, relief, uncertainty, pleasure, hunger, but most of all, trust. He's trusting you. Trusting that you know what to do. Trusting that you can lead him on this new path. Trusting that you'll take care of him. This man who leads the largest criminal outfit on the continent and is intimidated by nothing, entrusts his being to you. It's like being stabbed in the heart, a searing pain that brings tears to your eyes and a painfully wide smile to your lips.

You slide the thumb of your right hand forward to swipe over his cheekbone. Your left hand goes back to stroke his hair. He nuzzles into your right hand, beard both soft and scratchy. Just like him, all contradictions.  You can see his lashes flutter and you open your mouth to speak but…

Wait a minute.

Seriously???

"Diego… Are you staring at my tits?"

He's not even remotely repentant. "They are just. Right There! And no bra!"

You throw your head back and laugh. You laugh so loud it hurts your throat and brings tears to your eyes. You laugh until you're gasping for air. When you finally open your eyes and look at him your heart tries to crawl up and out of you just to get to him. 

He's staring up at you, eyes wide with adoration and jaw hanging open in wonder. You bend forward to rest your forehead on his again. "You soft little Murder Panther." You don't even bother trying to hide your ridiculously pleased smirk.

His right hand slides up your hip to your lower back while the left lowers slowly from your hair to the back of your neck. His lips curl up at the corners. His gaze is still soft as he murmurs, "Only for you, my princess."

-------------------

She's so soft in his arms. Relaxed and loose, trusting that he'll take her weight without buckling and keep her safe from falling. It makes his chest ache and his eyes burn. He raises his chin, bringing his lips to her, only she dives down for him at the same moment, colliding together just this side of too much, too fast. Always so eager, the thought makes him groan deeply. She shivers in response and whines, so high pitched it makes his ears ring.

She's curling her fingers in his hair, using the leverage to tilt his head to the angle she wants while he kisses her. He's rubbing his lips over hers, making sure to apply enough pressure that her fair skin will show the beard burn later. When he feels her left arm begin to tense he goes to draw back to look at her… only for her to yank on his hair. He yelps, and she seizes the opportunity to delve her tongue into his mouth. Holy fuck, she is perfect.

And then she's abruptly pulling back. No no no no no no! 

-------------------------------

Like a slap upside the head, you suddenly remember that you haven't showered...for three days. Fuuuuuuuck.

"Wait, wait Diego, hold on-" In the time it takes you to whine those five words he's already moved on to your neck. His left hand is threaded back into your hair and holds tight close to your scalp to gently but steadily pull. Just how you like it.

"Uhhhhhhhhh wuhhh…" Oh yes, so eloquent. He's rubbing that fucking goatee everywhere and you're about fourteen seconds away from passing out. You put your hands on his shoulders and start to push him backwards. He growls in displeasure and you whimper. Okay, maybe a little more, your traitorous brain isn't even helping here. You try again, "Baby, baby. I haven't. Oh god, yes. Uhh huh. Wait, just, can you pause? Mmmmmm… Oh my god, Diego stop!" Apparently barking works.

He growls again but manages to disengage from tormenting your neck with one last long lick. Do not think about that tongue! 

"Fucking what?" He mutters, breathing hard. "I cannot have you? Now?" How very Diego. He's blinking at you in agitated confusion, pupils blown wide and flushed lips parted. His hand in your hair is shaking, the other has sunk back down to grip your ass very, very securely.

You can feel your face flushing with embarrassment. Your gaze darts off to the left, this is mortifying.  "I haven't showered in three days. I smell." When you finally manage to make eye contact again he's grinning. Oh no.

"Oh si, Princess. I can smell you." His tone is arrogant, but the thickening of his accent betrays just how aroused he really is. His left hand slides down to your butt, too. That grin is all teeth, Pure apex predator. 

"Yeah, that's what I me-yeeeeen!" He doesn't let you finish. Instead he slides both hands under you, where ass meets thigh, and picks you up to deposit you back onto the couch. You always squeal in delight when he picks you up, That is never gonna get old. The moment your weight is on the cushion he brings his hands forward and then around your inner thighs to spread your legs wide. Before you can even register what is happening he dives down into your lap, burying his face in your crotch and inhaling deeply. 

While your brain has stalled in shock (because Are you fucking serious?) your hips have decided this is a great idea and lurched forward to practically hump his face. His exhale is the longest, loudest, sexiest groan you have ever heard. Your hands fly to his hair, but instead of pushing away they are definitely holding him in place. He's rubbing his face against you, turning his head from side to side, moaning endlessly like he can't get enough. 

Your brain finally catches up and you abruptly cut off the whine that's been pouring out of you. You just have to open your mouth, "Are you fucking serious right now? You like that?!?" 

With one last hard rub of his face against you, (FUCK YES, rub that bearded chin on my clit) he pulls back to look up at you. And if you thought he looked aroused before, he is positively wrecked now. His eyes are slitted in pleasure, brows drawn together with need, jaw slack, mouth open and panting. He doesn't keep you waiting for an answer. "Well, not your normal sexy bakery scent. You smell like you but just, more. Damn delicious." He growls. 

Okay, two things: 

You file 'sexy bakery' away for later discussion because wtf, lol.

And. And he really means that. He's dead serious. He has a death grip on your inner thighs, his hands are like steel. As if he's afraid you'll try to push him away, to stop him. Fat fucking chance, babe.

You cup his face with both hands and smile softly down at him. In wondrous amazement you whisper, "Holy fuck, I love you." The transformation of his expression from blissfully needy to Horny Murder Panther is damn near instantaneous.

"Good. Now gimme this pussy!" He orders. 

You laugh, but your hands fly to the drawstring of your pants in obedience. He erupts into a flurry of actions, pulling his jacket off to dump it on the floor behind him. He only gets as far as unbuttoning the cuffs on his sleeves before giving up and just ripping the shirt up and over his head to join his jacket. The sight of solidly muscled chest rippling like that short circuits your brain. What were you even doing? Was it drooling? Its definitely drooling now. 

His hands come back to your thighs, fingers digging deep into your soft flesh. He yanks you forward until your ass is hanging off the couch. You snap back to awareness and start frantically pushing your pants down. He grabs the waistbands of both your pants and underwear and hauls the whole mess down your legs at what has to be record speed. Before you have a chance to do anything else he's burying his face into your pussy like a starving man. 

He uses his flattened tongue to give you a long, slow, torturous lick from the bottom of your entrance to your clit. Your back arches to mirror his movements while you sob in pleasure. Then he does it again. And again. Over and over in an endless loop of wet decadent friction. He grips the backs of your thighs, the heels of his palms brushing your ass while his thumbs are buried in the creases where leg becomes hip. He pushes your legs back more yet, widening you further and practically folding you in half. You can't even bring yourself to be worried about how your squishy stomach compresses into rolls. Diego certainly doesn't care.

He changes tactics to latch onto your clit. Sealing his lips around you, he alternates between hard suction and softly sliding his tongue up under your hood to drive you mad. The direct pressure is almost too much, you whimper and squirm after only a few rounds of this. He leaves off and you think you're catching a break to breathe. You are so, so wrong.

He goes lower to literally lick you from bottom to top.

With a shriek, both of your hands fly to his head. "Holy fuck. Oh my god, oh my god. Baby. You. Oh god. Baby, fuck yessss… " What started out as some kind of blasphemous incantation ends in you hissing with unadulterated sin. He moans against you in response but doesn't stop. The incessant long strokes of his tongue have you closer to orgasm faster than you can ever remember it happening before. Your legs are shaking and tears are pouring from your eyes. You reach your right hand down to touch his left where he's holding your thigh, needing something, anything, to ground you. And he laces his fingers with yours. 

Your heart clenches. "Diego…" you whisper for him, sobbing from the intensity of everything. With a choppy groan he refocuses on your clit, ferociously determined. Your entire abdomen is tense, you're wound too tight. He presses his flattened tongue against you even harder, shortening his strokes just to cover your clit. It feels infinite, you can't tell where one lick ends and the next begins. Just constant, unyielding pleasure. It's too much, holy fuck it's too much, never stop.

Everything clicks into clear focus. Your pussy compresses tight on nothing, and then you snap. Your whole body seizes up with your orgasm. For one long, terrifying moment your heart pauses and your breathing stops. It all comes crashing back together and you suck in a lungful of air with a choking sob. Waves of agonizing pleasure wash over you, your body shuddering with each one. He's still pressing that incredible, miraculous, entirely evil tongue to your clit. Holding fast and drawing your climax out as long as possible. Growling against you with heavenly vibration. As the rounds of your clenching cunt ease in both intensity and frequency he slowly slides up and off of you. 

He rests his sweaty forehead against the inside of your right thigh, panting so hard his breath is hitting you with almost physical force. You pry your right hand off your own thigh, keep your fingers laced together, and bring his hand up to your chest where you lay it over your heart.

You keep your eyes closed while you brokenly cry. "I love you, Diego."

-----------------

His right hand snakes up your body to slide around the back of your neck. He's pulling you forward, sitting you upright. His left hand slides back down to your hip where he grips you tightly and pulls toward him simultaneously. Your eyes pop open when you feel like you're going to fall off the couch. 

Diego scoops you back into his lap with your momentum and proceeds to just stand up. You yelp in surprise as your arms shoot around his neck to hold on. It takes a second to realize that you're essentially just sitting on his left forearm, his right hand is still gripping the back of your neck tightly. You moan in pure arousal, hiding your face against his shoulder. The fact that he just tosses you around like a ragdoll is so mind-meltingly hot. The sheer bulk and breadth of him never ceases to render you speechless. There's just so much Diego that he blocks out everything else. Its overwhelming in every sense. Let me just drown in Diego.

By the time you've contemplated your fate, bodice-ripper romance novel style, he's made it halfway down the hall to your bedroom. You tuck your legs tighter around his torso, the hallways in an old farmhouse aren't exactly spacious, and he purrs against you in response. Your body's physical reaction is so strong that you choke. Is there anything about this man that does not turn me on? 

He makes it to your bedroom without incident (a miracle, really, considering it looks like a bomb went off in your apartment) and deposits you on the bed. He's been so incredibly gentle with those huge hands that it takes you by surprise when he firmly grasps your jaw and growls at you. "Look at me."

You swallow, hard, and open your eyes. He's staring at you so intensely, his gaze unreadable. He uses his grip on you to slowly push you down onto your back. You don't even try to fight it. You're not sure what he's doing but it's very clear that he needs to do it. He squeezes your jaw with purpose and you blink up at him in confusion. He cocks his head and regards you like… well, like prey.

It's been a long time since he has made you nervous like this.

He finally releases your jaw to slide his hand down your throat and rest it over your pounding heart. He pulls the neckline of your camisole away from your body then allows it to softly snap back against you. "Take this off." His growl is quiet, but it still sets off alarm bells in some primal part of your brain. He sees the hesitation in your eyes and barks out, "Now!"

You whip the top off over your head before he loses any more patience and rips it off of you in shreds. His hand is back on your jaw, ensuring you look nowhere but at him. His breathing is harsh, you can see a muscle tic in his left cheek, and his eyes are wild. Feral, you shiver with the thought. "Stay, Princess." He orders softly and releases his hold on you. 

You don't dare move.

He straightens back upright and his hands go to his pants. You have a brief moment of hysteria, Have fun getting those impeccably tailored pants over that massive cock, but you manage to stifle the thought and keep your expression steady. He's toeing off his shoes while undoing the button, then pulling the zipper down. You watch his hands in fascination. It's an obsession you have no plans of shaking. He manages to get the pants over his hips with no problems, a complete lack of underwear always expedites the process. 

He moves to climb on the bed and you spread your legs for him like a reflex. This man has had a profound effect on you. Before you get too far he throws his left leg over both of yours, straddling you and effectively immobilizing you. You reach up for him as he plants his elbows just outside of yours and cups your face in those hands you so adore. Your own hands land on his shoulders and he allows it, for now. You try to urge him down on top of you, but he's not budging. You want to touch more, feel all of him, but he's just looming over you to block out the rest of existence.

His hands are like iron, caging you in to bend you to his will. His eyes search your face, you have no idea what he's seeking. Finally, he rumbles down at you, "Do you know what you did?"

The question is soft, dangerously so. You can feel yourself starting to shake. You have a sneaking suspicion that there is no right answer so you just shake your head in a 'no'. He cocks his head again and you find yourself blinking rapidly. His eye twitches when he finally answers, "You scared me."

You're shocked. Never in a million years would you have expected this man to straightforwardly admit fear. He leans in close to your face and your breathing hitches. "I'm sorry." You whimper. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to. I never meant to scare you." You don't even recognize your own voice. Its small, plaintive and timid. 

He moves back upright and kneels over you. His expression is only becoming more fierce. You start to draw your legs out from under him, curling up some, instinctively seeking to protect yourself. "You didn't mean to?" He rumbles incredulously. His eyebrows are rising and you can feel actual anger radiating off of him. 

He snaps, "You didn't mean for me to drop everything I was doing?" And faster than you can comprehend his right hand comes down on the outside of your left thigh. The sharp sound of the slap echoes in your tiny room. Your jaw drops in shock, then the pain blooms out from the point of impact. You look from his face to his hand, then back again. "Diego, I--"

"You didn't mean for me to cancel two drop receivements and a business meeting?" His hand comes down again, but you're already moving. You try to turn away, rolling your legs to the right. His hand lands on your left hip, fingers long enough to catch the outside of your cheek. You shriek and start trying to escape in earnest. His left hand shoots down and grabs both of your wrists, stopping you from pulling yourself away from him. "Diego! Wait, I don't--" 

He clamps his legs around yours and uses your momentum against you to turn your hips entirely to the side. He has both your wrists pinned down in a bruising grip. Your shoulders are flat on the bed, there's nowhere you can hide your face. "No! I'm sorry, I didn't mean to cause--"

"You didn't mean for me to take an immediate flight across the entire country?" This time the slap lands fully on your ass. And it hurts. You yelp as tears spill over your cheeks. "No! I'm sorry! Please--"

"You didn't mean for me to drive two hours from the airport after I've been awake for almost two days?" His volume has risen, he's practically yelling. His hand comes down again, lower this time to catch the bottom of your cheek, where it becomes the tender skin of thigh. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry! No I didn't--"

"You didn't mean for me to find you here like this? Having some sort of tantrum like a child?" He roars. This time there are three slaps, one right after the next, all landing in the same spot. Your shrieks are coming out in stutters, interspersed with gasping inhalations. "No! No no no! I'm sorry! I'm sorry Diego! I'm sorry!" You're sobbing with it, choking on humiliation. You can't hide your face, there's nowhere to run from this.

"Or you didn't mean for me to find out that you cared? Huh? That you love me!" His voice cracks over the sound of his near constant strikes. You're wailing in tears, "Yes! Yes! Okay! Damnit Diego, I'm sorry! I was afraid! I'm sorry! I'm so sorry…" you dissolve into incoherence. 

He releases your wrists and grabs your face again. You try to push him away, but you're too weak. "Look at me! Look at me, Bicki!" he hisses. You shake your head no. "Mirame, Princesa! Please, please." His voice is hoarse, dripping with fear and desperation. You open your eyes to find him right in your face. His expression is twisted up with pain and desire. "You cannot do this! I have to know you are safe! Protected! Let me keep you!" 

It suddenly dawns on you what he means with 'keep'. He wants to protect you yes, but what he really means is 'have' you. Present in his life. At his side. Your heart in his keeping.

His hands are stroking you, over your hair, down your arms. He grips your hands tightly, bringing them up to his face. You hold onto him, your only constant in this. "Diego.." you hiccup. Then, with no warning and no conscious command on your part, you slap him. Hard. 

You're both frozen in place, equally shocked. Staring at each other in escalating tension. You sniffle and it launches him into action.

He grabs your left hip in a bruising grip, pushing your leg to your chest, pulling it out from under him so he can get between your thighs. You frantically claw at his shoulders, his biceps, anything to pull him closer. You need him. Right now. You need him so deep inside you that you don't know where he ends and you begin. 

He slides home in one powerful thrust. Your whole back arches and you grimace in excruciating ecstasy. The stretch of it burns, it hurts so perfectly. His left hand is wrapped around your left thigh, holding you open for him, his right on your left shoulder, keeping you steady and still for him to bottom out. He stays there, grinding his cock into you as far as possible. Still trying to push the last few inches into you. Your vision blacks out and you scream yourself hoarse with your orgasm. 

When you come back to awareness he's kissing all over your face, murmuring your name. You turn your face to his, seeking. He fits his lips over yours and you both moan. You pet over his shoulders, reach back up to tug on his hair.

He starts a steady rhythm of long, slow strokes. You can feel every damn inch of him and it's so incredibly, deliriously good. You open your mouth to him and he deepens the kiss, tongue moving to match his hips. He tastes like you. All you can smell is his cologne, underscored by pure lustful male. This is indescribable. Each and every one of your senses is nothing but Diego.

His right hand glides down to cup your breast, hefting the weight of it and rubbing his thumb over your nipple. You break off the kiss to throw your head back, whining in pleasure. His lips trail down your neck, beard leaving fire in his wake. He laves his tongue over your nipple before latching on and suckling. You can feel another orgasm approaching, and so can he.

"That's it, Princess. Come for me. Show Diego what a good girl you are." His hoarse voice and soft commands push you right over the edge. You're rippling down around him, sobbing and nodding. Yes, yes, your perfect little princess. 

He picks up the pace, the force of his thrusts rocking the bed into the wall with a steady banging. You can't seem to care. You're whining and pleading, "I'm sorry, please please. Yes baby, yesyesyesyesss…" 

"I know," he coos softly to you. "You are so very sorry, aren't you?" You're nodding desperately in agreement. "Will you do this again? Huh?" You shake your head 'no' so fast it makes you dizzy. His words would be condescending if his tone wasn't so very emotional. It's okay. You need him to vocalize what you can't. And he knows it. He knows you.

He pushes your left leg out to the side, sliding his right hand up your thigh to grip your hip. His left hand travels down your back between you and the bed. Through nothing but raw power he lifts your wide hips and rotates you so you're flat on your back and fully open to him. You keen at the show of strength, just like he knew you would. 

"Are you going to be a good little Princess for Diego?"  When you don't answer he pulls back and stops. Your eyes snap open and you whimper in desperation. He's watching you, waiting. His brows are drawn together in concentration and his jaw is set tight. Those beautiful brown eyes are nearly black with hunger. He digs his nails into your hips while he waits. 

You struggle with gathering enough oxygen before you can answer, "Yes, yes I'll be good. Be good for you, I promise!" You aren't sure who is in control of your mouth right now. You don't feel like you have any control. He rewards you by filling you up completely. Your eyes roll back into your head, taking all of him at once always steals your breath. 

He stays fully sheathed and leans over you. Bringing your knees up to your shoulders and his face to yours, he takes your lips under his. You sob into his mouth, you can feel the head of him pressing against your cervix. He nips your bottom lip then swipes his tongue over the sting. "Does my princess want this? Does she want Diego to keep her?" 

You cling to his shoulders. Closing your eyes in chagrin, you nod. He keeps his face pressed to yours. "Tell Diego. I need to hear it!" He hisses. 

"Yes. Want you to keep me. Please." you whisper, broken and needing.  He rears back and starts a frantic pace. His thrusts are short and brutal, stabbing directly into the core of you. You can do nothing but howl in pleasure and take it. Your spasms around him are nearly constant, one after another you come in rolling waves. You're begging, or cursing, hell, you have no idea what's coming out of your mouth at this point. 

He brings the weight of his torso down on you, crushing you into the bed. "Come! Come now! Come, my princess, come for your Diego!" His words are a command, but his voice is begging.

You're bawling again. "Yes, yesyesyes. Diego, Diego pleeeeease!" You have no idea if he can understand you. You're pretty sure only dogs could hear that. "Please Please please please please, baby. Please. Need you. I love you!"

He buries his face in your hair and drops your legs in favor of engulfing your shoulders in his embrace. You wrap your legs around his hips, you have to keep him as close to you as possible. Your arms snake around his torso, squeezing tight to bring your chest up against his. He's grunting, his thrusts becoming erratic. 

Then you hear him. His voice is quiet, words pleading, "Come. Let me keep you. Please, please. C-come. Princess, need you. Come home with me!" You nod tightly, sobbing silently as he freezes up in orgasm. He chokes out a groan, then collapses on top of you. You welcome the weight of him. He nuzzles into your neck, tickling you with beard and a big sigh. "Love you."

It hurts. It hurts deep in your chest. You hope it never stops hurting like this.

He retreats out of you, faster than you would like. You're pretty sure he forgets just how large he is. You feel wrung out, stretched out of shape and hollow. He pulls his right arm out from under you and rolls off to flop face-up on your right side. His left arm is still trapped under your back. Do you care that it's lumpy and uncomfortable? Nah. You unearth your right leg from under both of his and he makes a whiny huff about it.

----------------

He's struggling to catch his breath. He didn't mean for things to get so… out of hand. So to speak. She always does this to him. She withholds her more serious emotions and it drives him crazy. She never makes a fuss about his responses, never freaks out when he shows her affection, never gasps in shock when he gives her his ultimate deference. She acts like she has no deep feelings for him and it makes him want to beat it out of her. Apparently that is the correct method.

Her body is relaxed and casual on his arm. But he's greedy and doesn't want her to seal off all those delectably vulnerable emotions she just displayed. Soft, pliant, obedient, needy Princess is his new favorite.

He rolls her into his side with his trapped left hand while rumbling softly, "Come here." And she does. She snuggles into his side willingly and it makes him feel so soft that it's disgusting. Or maybe that's the guilt. She didn't agree to the spanking before hand. She didn't even know it was coming. Honestly, neither had he. His next thought feels like a stab to the lungs. What if she is afraid of me now? Did I hurt her? This is disgustingly emotional.

"Princess?" She sighs a soft 'Mmmm' in answer. She burrows into the coarse hair and soft skin of his underarm. Is, is she sniffing me?? He decides that ignoring her utterly adorable weirdness and addressing the ceiling is his safest option at this point. "Are… are you hurt? Did I hurt you?" 

Her left hand freezes on his chest. Her face slowly creeps into his field of vision from the bottom left corner. Her expression is… mystifying. He keeps his head still but moves his eyes to his peripheral vision to squint at her in concerned concentration.

Slowly, ever so slowly, her lips curve up in an absolutely evil grin. That damn left eyebrow arches imperiously and he is completely certain that she will be the death of him.

"Did you hear me use the safeword?"

[thistangledbrain]

Ok y’all, I’m sorry I’m having to catch up! We got a new foster in a few days ago - a particularly broken soul - and my mind has been *entirely* on him. But he’s settling in a little now, so here’s the last 3 days in one post ☺️

Autism Acceptance Month

Day 10!

“Sensory Life”

This is sort of hard to describe, but I’ll try! This is different from the next entry about stims, though both are sensory related.

It’s like being on microdosed ‘shrooms *all the time*. If you don’t know what that’s like, I’ll try to describe (this is collaborated with a friend who regularly does this - I don’t...it would probably be far too overwhelming).

Colors are far sharper to me & I emotionally react to them far more than most people. That results in some colors being genuinely offensive - not just “I don’t like that color”, but it will make me intensely angry or physically sick. This makes me curious about chromotherapy, but I haven’t really looked into it that much. My tolerance of certain colors can ebb and flow depending on my emotional state/mindset. (This crap is so sharp, I’m actually getting a twinge of irritation just *thinking* about my most hated colors LOL 😂 🤦🏻‍♀️)

Textures/skin sensations are another big one. (By now you may be asking, how TF did this chick manage Marine Corps training/exercises?!) I guess if you want something bad enough, you can shut down some of the overwhelming aspects of the sensory thing...this ability to disassociate probably isn’t what NT’s would call “healthy”, but it’s quite handy if you’re autistic, and those of us who have been through real trauma seem to be especially skilled with our ability to just shut off all circuits and “embrace the suck”). Like...I’ll nearly panic to get out of a store or something if my underwear starts feeling uncomfortable, but I’ve literally been soaked head to toe, covered in mud and sand in my *everywhere* (and I HATE SAND anywhere but on my feet) AND I pissed myself, because nobody’s gonna stop shooting/training just because you have to go potty 🙄), and I remember literally giving zero fucks about it...so it really is entirely a mindset thing. But let’s talk about when I’m NOT in “Marine mode” (cuz let’s face it, it’s been close to two decades since I got out, and I no longer HAVE to tolerate overwhelming sensations).

Sensory input is just basically dialed to 11 & the knob’s been snapped off. Bright lights, loud discordant noises, too much touching/not touching the right way, things like that. I am particularly sensitive about body hair (my own). I *strongly* prefer to have my head shaved on the back and sides (but I leave the top long). The only time I haven’t done this, was in the Marines (it was considered “eccentric” and not allowed, so they made me grow it out). Even though I leave the main part long, it’s *always* in a bun or ponytail - well, unless I’m super dressed up for something, but even then I prefer some sort of updo. Despite the fact that I like my long hair (well on the top anyway), I can’t *stand* the way it feels on my neck or especially my face - I HATE IT when my hair touches my face. If I wasn’t married...there’s a decent chance I’d just shave it all off and be done with it LOL 😆 My ponytail pulled through the back of a baseball hat is I guess what they’d call my “signature look”.

And you think NT’s have bad misophonia? *I’ve jumped out of a moving vehicle before* to get away from the noise of someone chewing loudly/smacking their lips in the back seat (he was a coworker and punching him in the mouth - which is what I DESPERATELY wanted to do - would have gotten me fired 😕)...but humans eating, or dogs licking their junk, makes me want to crawl out of my own skin. It’s mostly humans though....you have *no idea* the level of self discipline it takes to keep me from either rage crying or actually getting violent around someone smacking their mouth during a meal. I *cannot* be around my husband when he’s eating breakfast cereal even though he’s a very mannered eater - I don’t know why, but it’s *so loud* (and I’m terribly hard of hearing) - it sounds like he’s chewing rocks. It took us years to work this problem out LOL - he thought it was dumb that I had such a deeply emotional reaction. Then he tried to “chew quietly”, which all that did was slow down the rock tumbler inside his mouth 😂...gradually, for everyone’s sanity, we realized that cereal eating should not be done in close proximity to each other lololol....and now, when it’s time for family meals around the table, I’ve learned to either keep the range hood fan going (white noise is definitely my friend), or have the TV on. If it’s just mainly the sound of everyone chewing, I simply won’t eat at the table. I lose my appetite. (And all of my dinner guests/family are very polite diners. It’s MY hangup.) Phone calls are another big one. I could probably come up with several reasons why I hate it...I LOATHE it. This is one sensory hangup some people in my family just refuse to accept. I don’t think they realize I equate unexpected or immediately demanded phone calls to running naked though a mall or getting a root canal. Hissssssssss!! Give me some time to prepare myself for this shit please - you’re actually asking a *lot* from me. (And when I do have a call? Ugh I babble and am so awkward, because I’m so effing uncomfortable, which I also hate.)

But here’s an area where my “sensory overload” serves me very well:

Dogs.

I am usually *intensely* dialed into the energy and body language of an animal, but particularly dogs. I’m *so* sensitive to them, that I often actually can feel things even happening behind my back - can basically sense the energy in the area shift. (Roughly 75% of the time. I’m spacey sometimes too LOL.) The work I do with “behaviorally challenged” dogs is the biggest area where I am *grateful* for my autistic mind. I don’t think I could really do the things I do without it, successfully. (I can do this to a large degree with people as well, as can my youngest son. You cannot lie to that boy about your feelings or mood.)

We all have different levels of sensory sensitivity and different triggers, but every autistic I know has several “sensory hangups”. It often is one of our biggest hurdles to deal with, when it comes to “normal functioning”. So, many of us constantly have headphones (or muffs) on, some of us wear sunglasses *all the time*, etc (I wear a baseball hat - and I genuinely don’t like going anywhere where I have to get dressed up and can’t wear my hat. Been like that since my early teens. That hat shields me from all sorts of real and imagined sensory triggers.) You do what you can to mitigate, you know? But my “microdosing shrooms” and “knob dialed to 11 and snapped off” is really the best way I can summarize. (And that’s not all bad - my trips into a new natural space, like the redwoods, is an absolute *thrill*. I also occasionally love sensory overload - many auties do - like rollercoasters. My youngest son and I can ride till we pass out LOL!) So sensory life is love/hate, really....but I don’t think I’d change much about it.

Except the fucking misophonia. I hate that I go into almost a murderous rage over someone just chewing food loudly 🤦🏻‍♀️ - but seriously. It’s impolite anyway. Don’t do it. 😆

———————————————————

Day 11!

Stims

This is one of the biggest areas where neurotypicals struggle to understand us.

We all have stims. Stims are basically any stimulus that brings us joy or comfort. It could be rocking, flapping, walking in tight little circles, clicking your fingernails together, spinning, making weird sounds or whistling, etc. And it’s usually repetitive - that’s the part that gets on people’s nerves.

I’ve found that most *women* hide most of our stims. We only let go and stim our little hearts out when we’re alone. I do that, because some of my stims grate on my husband. Sometimes I don’t WANT to feel “watched” anyway...I’ve noticed males don’t have quite the same issue with that.

I have quiet stims I do to soothe myself, and happy stims. One of my quieter stims when I’m trying to soothe myself (like in public) is clicking my teeth, particularly my right canines. I also have this silicone bite stick I wear around my neck sometimes, that I chew on (my sons like the bite sticks as well). I carry a little bag of fidget toys in my purse, to soothe myself with when I’m stressed. There’s a thing sort of like a fidget cube, a little cowrie shell and twine bracelet that I fiddle with almost like a rosary, a small stuffed axolotyl (her name is Blossom), and a few other toys. My little stash also comes in damn handy when I encounter a bored child LOL!

One of my sons makes funny little sound effects randomly (and he’s grown & still does it). The other used to randomly shriek when he was younger - then he learned how to whistle, so he couldn’t say a whole sentence without punctuating it with little whistles (we actually thought it was adorable).

My favorite stim is putting my headphones on, putting on some favorite music, sitting with my legs crossed, closing my eyes, and rocking. I’m happy to TELL you about this stim, but it’s one I do alone, because I like to get completely lost in it and I can’t do that if I feel I’m being watched...and you’ll damn near give me a heart attack if you touch me while I’m lost in that world. (And boy does it irritate me to get yanked out of that before I’m ready, for some bullshit non emergency reason.) Better to just isolate myself (except my dogs are always with me). Another one I do alone - and I have no idea why i like it so much - is squeaking my bite stick across my teeth. (This one is weird to me because I usually HATE my teeth being touched...yes dentists are a problem.) This one I enjoy doing kind of mindlessly while I read, but damn would it irritate anyone in listening distance LOL...I mean, it would irritate the shit out of ME if someone else was doing it, because *other people’s* repetition, especially if it makes noise, gets on my damned nerves. 🙄 Figures lmao!

Stims can be damaging sometimes, though. Like I used to twist and twirl my hair when I was younger so much that the areas I usually grabbed were frayed and broken (I also chewed my hair sometimes). One stim I cannot break myself of even though sometimes it’ll make me bleed, is chewing the insides of my cheeks or my lips. That’s my most frequent (several times a day) one, and the one that is both gratifying *and* soothing. It’s also the one that’s hardest to suppress.

Some auties are either unaware or literally don’t care how you feel about their stims, but I am and do. I’d like to think I’m pretty “appropriate” *most* of the time with my stims and other people around, except the lip/cheek chewing. If my husband notices I’ve gotten pretty furious about it (even using my hand to push my cheek into optimal biting position), he’ll gently put his hands on mine to bring me back to awareness - if I’m gnawing away, I’m either super stressed or way lost in thought. Either way, I can accidentally hurt myself, so he gently guides me away/distracts me.

Stimming is an important part of Autie life and should not be discouraged unless it hurts Your Pet Autie ™️.

And if you’re looking for a neat gift for an Autie? They actually make stim toy packs. Get them one, they’re fun. ☺️ (Most stim toys are designed to withstand being put in mouths and bitten/chewed, too - LOTS of us have oral fixations.) And hey, even if you’re a NT, try stimming sometime (lots of normal people have stims, they just don’t realize that’s what they are - like nail biting. Bite your nails a lot? Get a bite stick!! God they’re so satisfying!)....

Happy stimming!

———————————————-

Day 12!

“Favorite Autism Charity”

This one is short and easy: ASAN. Autism Self Advocacy Network.

“The Autistic Self Advocacy Network is a nonprofit organization run by and for individuals with autism. According to its mission statement, the Network’s goal is ‘to empower autistic people across the world to take control of our own lives and the future of our common community, and seek to organize the autistic community to ensure our voices are heard in the national conversation about us.’”

————————————————-

Day 13!

“Family”

Well that’s kinda ambiguous, isn’t it? 😒

I’ll start with this tack:

Being an autistic mom with autistic kids.

I mean for years, none of us KNEW LOL - and maybe that’s what took me so long to get around to pursuing a formal diagnosis for my youngest. To me, for the longest time, he was just sensitive and different like me (same with my oldest, for the most part, but I’m pretty sure that was me buying into the “brilliant people are just fucking weird ok” mindset also), yannow? So it was like, “well mama always told me I’d have one like me & then know what I put her through” 🙄 My oldest got lumped into the “all bright kids are quirky” category - but as I learned about ASD through my youngest and myself, it became damn obvious the oldest was also in our camp. (He’s taken the prelim test now anyway, but is not formally diagnosed.) I genuinely believe that our “shared weirdness” binds us very tightly to each other - and I’m super pleased about that.

It brought a whole new level of understanding and awareness within our little family when we realized it was ASD I guess - and acceptance. (I 100% believe that diagnosis - or even affirmation - is critical to our self acceptance and understanding.) I wouldn’t trade my little family for anything, and consider myself remarkably blessed. I can talk about how complex and brilliant my boys are ALL day (and often do LOL). Hubby is neurodivergent, and can identify with (or at least sympathize with) MANY of our hangups....but he’s “normal” enough that he’s been able to guide us (mostly me) with things like how to use tact (not often a skill we naturally possess lmao). My heart breaks when I read posts by auties whose families either don’t understand or don’t accept them & are constantly trying to basically mute who they are. Auties “live out loud”, and some people find that off putting. I know growing up, I was constantly getting my ass chewed for being “dramatic” or too sensitive, too, so I shut down and hid my sensitivity far, far away. I’m only *lately* (last few years) discarding that silly tough girl mask. (I can still be quite the little wolverine at times, but I’m not afraid to show my soft sensitive actual self anymore...to stay soft in today’s fucked up world takes actual courage - a lot of it - and strength. I was looking at the concept of being “strong” entirely the wrong way.)

I swear my husband has lived with nearly as many phases and facets, as years we’ve been together. Sometimes I ask him if this ever bothers him. He says no, because who I am at my core never changes...and he grins and says “and you damn sure aren’t boring” 😂

But since I’ve known I’m autistic, I’ve given myself more freedom to discover who I am without these socially dictated parameters. And permission to be precisely who I am, without cringing apologies when the real me shines through awkwardly.

And my husband and boys have been there every step of the way, embracing me, as we do with them. ♥️

Yeah. I love my family. We’re some pretty cool people. 😁

[kinetic-elaboration]

September 25: 1x16 The Galileo Seven

I took a half day off today and had a three hour nap in the afternoon. Now I’m feeling, I think, better?? Perhaps?

Anyway, today’s ep is The Galileo Seven, aka capitalizing on Spock’s popularity time.

Hmm, a vague and undefined phenomenon perfect for scientific study--Spock will love this. (Aka Kirk’s real reason for investigating the quasar. Just a little gift for the bf.)

Yeah Shuttlecraft Galileo! I love the shuttlecrafts; I think they’re adorable.

New Paris Colony.

The Commissioner isn’t wrong, though, like this probably isn’t the time to go on a random exploratory mission. Ah, yes, this weird space anomaly full of unknown dangers--let’s launch our most important officers right into the center of it while we have time sensitive supplies onboard. I mean come on, there’s a plague going on!

Love the shaky movements of the shuttle as it flies through space.

Hmm they’re exploring an unknown weird space thing and something goes wrong? Who could have predicted that? Other than Boma, who’s like ‘this is actually really normal though?’

Kirk’s sigh right before the credits lol.

Uhura taking over for Spock.

Those doors looked awfully, um... not metal when they opened. But I still like the design.

This is a good episode for understanding what ‘logic’ means to Spock. Like people, including people in this ep, talk about it as if it were just being emotionless and not caring about others but it’s a whole philosophy/value system and he adheres to it pretty well.

Shuttlecraft Columbus.

Kirk has such a big headache right now. He hates having someone step on his command toes.

I love this Bones and Spock conversation. “This is your chance for command.” “I am a logical man.”

Those pants really are terrible. Everyone always on about the skirts but no one ever talks shit about those horrendous pants.

Spock gets to show off his legs standing in a V like that though lol.

Philosophy 101: The Trolley Problem.

“My choice [of who to leave behind] will be a logical one.” Stop bullshitting, Spock lol. “Idk man... logic?”

Well his decision just got easier by about 1/3.

It’s Pauna! Oh wait wrong show. Thank God.

Spock is talking about how this spear looks like something Native American but lbr it looks like a Vulcan spear and he should know. He’s the bitch with the ancient weaponry hanging on the walls of his quarters.

Spock could move the body way more efficiently, I mean he’s 3x stronger than these other fools. Look at the way he throws the spear as if it were made of cardboard. Which it is definitely, definitely not lol.

That quadrant name would make a good wifi password.

The commissioner truly has NO purpose here other than to be a human clock.

I understand Spock not wanting to waste time with the ceremonial duties of command or with burying a person while he could be working to save the people who are still alive...but I don’t believe for one moment he doesn’t know elaborate funeral services. The Vulcans love their rituals.

“We have no fuel! What alternatives?” Yeah lol that is pretty bad.

“Sensitive Vulcan ears.”

He literally just said they’re not tribal, Boma, are you not listening at all?

“I’m frequently appalled by the low regard you Earthmen have for life.”

Like Kirk always says, this isn’t a democracy.

Honestly this insubordination kinda seems like xenophobia to me in that I feel like everyone thinks it’s okay to be disrespectful to Spock because he’s an alien, because their human morality and philosophy is inherently right and Spock not following it is deserving of ire, even though he’s in command.

They’re on Spock’s back when he doesn’t seem to respect life enough and when he respects life too much like he cannot win.

Our duties to other life forms.

At least the reboots got Spock’s sass right.

I feel like Spock’s logical and emotionless responses are helpful though because I would be a straight up anxious mess. It just seems so clear to me, all the places where being unemotional is allowing him to act and keep control where a scared and confused person ruled by emotions would not be. I mean they’re all Officers and it’s not like McCoy and Boma are wandering around weeping or anything but still. Not all of Spock’s decisions are right but I’d be soothed by his attitude.

“Luck may be the only tool we have that works” reminds me of “Captain, you almost make me believe in luck.”

Kirk also makes a lot of command decisions here and it’s interesting to compare his style with Spock’s.

Loving the creature design and this is not a sarcastic comment.

“Certain scientific curiosity” about whether the crewman is dead. Sure okay.

See, I was right, he can lift and carry a grown man by himself.

That spear very much hit him lol.

Spock is upset. He lost a crewman. And logic isn’t working like it’s supposed to. I love that “They should have respected us” bit. He is a little arrogant, and for someone who’s spent most of his adult life around aliens, rather set in his idea that rational responses are the only responses.

He’s really having some revelations here. I bet he can’t wait to discuss all this with Jim.

I’ve seen that shot of Scotty just shoving a wrench in the wall and making sparks fly used in memes. Out of context it is quite hilarious.

Ugh, this is such a tightly constructed narrative. Love it.

Yeah, Boma, back off. This is just crossing a line.

“You will have your burial, provided the creatures permit it.”

Poor creatures honestly. These weird aliens keep showing up and bothering them.

This Captain’s chair is pretty wide too but Kirk manages to sit in it and look cool @ cpine.

Noooo you can’t leave them behind!

Uhura posing behind the Captain’s chair and looking at the screen like google earth always taking pictures.

Lol, space normal speed. (You’d think the Commissioner would show up at this point to be like bUt ThE pLaGuE but actually we never see him again.)

Those creatures aren’t even AIMING the spears they’re literally just throwing them parallel.

“Get us off, Scott.”

“Yes.... my first command.” Oh, Spock. I love him.

Love that Scotty’s really, genuinely proud of him. Scotty’s so Unproblematic. He really is just here to do his job and he’s never mean or causing trouble of any sort.

Jim will see the flares because he loves you!!

This poor actress playing the Yeoman has nothing to do. “Oh, it’s hot!”

Really living for Kirk’s face journey as he thinks all hope is lost and then realizes they’re (mostly) okay.

I want to hear what Kirk and McCoy are saying at the beginning of the last scene. I bet they’re talking about Spock.

Everyone gently making fun of Spock but in a ‘we love you buddy way.’ And Kirk using this, their one scene together all ep, to lay on the flirting extra thick. “Mr. Spock, you’re a stubborn man” is really pushing the flirtation meter off the charts.

They’re mocking him for making an impulsive decision but he was totally right AND he was totally logical imo? Like “you reasoned that it was time for an emotional outburst” is certainly one way to put it but another way is “the only possible chance we have of being detected AT ALL is to make a big scene and if it doesn’t work we’ll just die faster than we would have anyway” which is logical, and in fact, I think someone too caught up in their emotions might hesitate to do it. I mean, I’d probably hesitate--I think the emotional response to the situation is to want to stay alive as long as possible, even if you know--logically--that the difference between living another 6 minutes and another 26 minutes is nothing. You’d be better off giving away the chance for 20 extra minutes in exchange for a better chance of not dying at all. That’s logic bitches!

Kirk sees some hope for himself here. “Oh, Spock can follow his heart??? Perhaps... to me??”

I am not a fan of these fake laughter endings. They are so overdone lol. Uhura is literally pointing and laughing in the background. It’s not THAT funny guys.

That said if Beyond had ended with some fake laughter it probably would have improved the film substantially.

And that’s it! An excellently plotted episode, really well done on the level of craft. I really get off on that kind of thing. I know a lot of shows that can write entertaining episodes/seasons/multi-season plots but don’t have any, well, real logic to them and that’s not necessarily the worst but then when you see something that’s really just well made, it... well for me it triggers a very certain satisfaction.

Also this is easily a top 3 Spock episode. Great character stuff.

Next up is the Squire of Gothos, which I think is one of the weaker S1 episodes. Not bad, just not Classic level like almost every other ep.

[shiredwarf]

okay, so here's the long ass rant that was promised. It's very much centered around Jaime and Brienne/Jaime because apart from Tyrion they're like the only reason I'm still invested (and this blog will stan book!Jaime to the bitter end) though don't expect any sort of Cersei bashing. Jaime/Cersei is complicated and boils down to more than "OMG SHE'S A TOXIC BITCH!!!" but more on that later. Obviously, there will be spoilers behind the cut and speculations regarding the rest of the show + a reference to a potential leak for ep 5 that's basically been going around since even before the show started so I don't know how big of a surprise that is to anyone.

Starting off with a couple of plot points:

The Funeral Scene Dany and Jorah were heartbreaking :( I loved those two together so much :( Jon's speech was fantastic but you know it would have been more moving if literally ANYONE apart from the people in the North + Cersei's gang had been aware of the danger heading their way. Like I bet you could talk to any peasant in King's Landing and they wouldn't even have a clue what White Walker means.

Gendry Baratheon of Storm's End & The Feast A++ scene, would watch again. Loved that Dany gave a shoutout to Arya and drunken Tyrion leaning on drunken Jaime warms my heart. Love my dysfunctional Lannisters. Also as much as I dislike certain aspects of the drinking game (see below) I appreciate Tyrion's match-making. He's a good bro. And seeing Brienne so relaxed with her friends is just... good stuff. Tormund is a cutie as always and Tyrion pouring him a drink after he realizes he has no chance with Brienne was the best. So was the Hound acting as Tormunds relationship counsellor. Poetic cinema. The token and conveniently available Northern women throwing themselves all over any male single character wasn't on the other hand. Loved that Sansa and Sandor finally got a scene together. Didn't love the 'glad I was raped so I could become the woman I am now' bullshit. Gendry is the fucking cutest! Smitten to the core. I am tentatively confident that he and Arya will work it out if they survive.

Tormund's & Sam's Goodbye Glad they got a goodbye with Jon, glad Tormund got Ghost cause Jon sure as hell doesn't deserve him. Like not even a pat. How the direwolves were treated pisses me off so much. At this point, I hope we'll never see them again just so they can be alive and happy wandering around with the best boi.

Missandei & Rhaegal No comment tbh. What's even the point anymore.

Onwards to relationships & characters:

The Starks & Dany I AM SO SICK OF THIS. SO SICK OF IT. Arya did not cut Littlefinger's scheming throat last season so that they can now scheme and bicker amongst themselves. Yes, Sansa has a right to worry about the North. Yes, Dany fucked up more than once since she came to Westeros. But those characters faced a tsunami of undead together and them still being too stubborn to even entertain working together without a hidden agenda to bring down Cersei is stupid and PLAIN BAD WRITING!     Now Tyrion is being dragged into this shitshow as well and I just... ugh Varys why

Dany Listen, I'm not the biggest Dany fan, far from it. But they're treating her like shit! She lost so much during that battle and there she is at the table watching others bond while she's alone. Like jfc Jon I'm not saying I approve of this whole thing but go hug her or something, she's given her all in the battle. Again I don't approve of most of the things she's done since coming to Westeros but can you imagine how isolating this experience must be. Apart from a select few survivors, everyone close to her for the past years is now back in the company of people they've known for far longer. They belong, they have bonds, friendships, loves, family and she's not part of it, has no place in this. She must feel so lonely right now. And instead of highlighting that (or btw dealing with the PTSD that everyone surely suffers from after that battle) they make her go all MAD QUEEN! Because that's how you write female characters isn't it. As soon as they show strong emotions due to trauma you can label them as crazy! jfc Then she loses another dragon, large parts of her fleet and Missandei. I honestly can only feel bad for her. And all that by the hand of fucking Euron the most annoying and flat villain out there. Honestly, at this point, I support "MadQueen!Dany". Just burn everything to the ground, preferably the entire show with the exception of Brienne being knighted.

Jaime & Tyrion Not much to say here except: I love them. I just want to watch them sit around in front of a fire and drink and tease each other for the rest of my life. I just love their sibling dynamic.

Jaime & Tyrion & Bronn I don't know really... usually I love those together but that scene was just... off? I don't know. So Bronn just rode North for a 3-minute talk and then he just... fucks off? (I mean I assume he doesn't, he will be around in some form but it just irks me. Inconsistent writing and people teleporting in and out of the plot.)

Euron & Cersei Yeah, I love watching Euron creep on Cersei. Totally cool. Not like this is what she wanted to escape since the very start. Yeah, it's cool.

Jaime & Brienne Oh boy.... ok, let's start with the stuff I liked

the two of them just enjoying each other's company during the feast and just smiling at each other so free of their usual burdens. seriously Brienne has smiled so many times over the past episodes (and she melts my heart every time she does. Gwen is stunning!). In case it wasn't obvious until now: I really hate so much about season 8 but the absolute avalanche of good Brienne/Jaime content in ep 2 and 3 will be cherished forever.

Jaime's character arc is putting up a good fight at the beginning coming to Brienne's defence when Tyrion asks about her virginity

Jaime was so freaking nervous when he showed up at Brienne's door and I'm so here for that. I'm also here for Brienne doing most of the undressing. Get it, Brienne, you deserve this. No seriously though it matters to me that she pushed his hand away and then started to undress herself. It was her choice. She wasn't passively just taking what he was offering. I appreciate that in a show that has a less than stellar record with consent.

and listen I'm so bitter about so many things but I can't help but love it. I just love those two so much and I will cling to that one moment of happiness.

now the stuff I didn’t like...

right, so this is just a pet peeve of mine but I HATE the whole 'sex jumpstarted by a never-have-i-ever drinking game'-trope. I just hate it. I don't know what it is about that but I just don't like it and whenever I come across it in a fanfic it just throws me off. Now this scene itself was cute, not denying that but I just hate that THAT's the thing that sets it all off. especially since there was no need? and I should know I've read like every Brienne/Jaime fanfic published in the last two weeks. making two people hook up after a battle should be the easiest thing but no they go for this mediocre modern college AU plot? (and I'm not joking, I've read a fic like that a year or so ago...)

I really dislike the fact that they focused on Brienne's virginity because it's not in character for her to be worried about that. Apart from the fact that she is unmarried and highborn and therefore unlikely to have slept with anyone in the first place Brienne has never been ashamed of that. She is ashamed of her looks and her mannerisms and she thinks no one will ever love her or desire her. That's her insecurity. Not the fact that she's a virgin. If that were the case she could have fixed that with Tormund ages ago. Brienne yearns for acceptance (she got that now thanks to the knighting) and love (which can come with sex but is not exclusively tied to it) not some hookup. Now Tyrion doesn't know that so I can kind of understand his line of thought and her reaction I just don't like that this again is what triggers the development of Brienne's and Jaime's relationship. She's not flawed because she's a virgin and he doesn't need to "fix that". What they do need to do instead is face their feelings, share them and if that then leads to sex, all the better but it's not the point! Brienne being loved is the point and I'd have rather had an "I love you" than 10 sex scenes.

Speaking of circumstances... I would have prefered them not to be drunk but I guess I can kind of accept it. Both of them are damaged and insecure and would probably doubt the other's intentions in their sober state. Still... would have been nicer (and at least they weren't like REALLY drunk... to the point where consent would have been debatable)

I am still a bit upset that we didn't get a scene between them talking through what's going on in their heads (e.g. a discussion of what Jaime will do now and what he meant when he didn't finish "I came to Winterfell because....") but then again both Brienne and Jaime have always been more about actions than words so I'll accept it.

Did not get a scene with Brienne taking his hand off and showing him acceptance  :/

Jaime

My first response to the episode was as you can guess very negative. Jaime's been my fave for a decade or so now and it's been beyond painful seeing his character development grind to a standstill for years on end. I was willing to forgive it though. I realize they needed someone to humanise Cersei and a screen partner for Lena that isn't a zombie or a creepy necromancer and when Jaime rode North at the end of S7 I thought: Ok here we go, we're finally back on track. Should have happened years ago during the siege of Riverun but at least it's happening at all. Then we get two episodes of Jaime distancing himself from Cersei and following Brienne around like a puppy. Quality material. Now though there are two options Either D&D decided to fuck him over and just obliterate 9 years of character growth for the sake of shock OR this is a very clumsy attempt at increasing the suspense and making people question whether Jaime is bad after all. Personally, I believe (and will always believe) option 2 BECAUSE THAT'S THE FUCKING BOOK CANON. Realistically though, I'm expecting option one.

Anyway, most of Jaime's scene can be interpreted one way or another and that's the only thing giving me hope here. For example

The sex scene with Brienne could just be him letting off steam, feeling alive after a battle etc and he doesn't truly desire and love her as much as he loves Cersei. BUT Jaime has never been about sex, Jaime has always been about love. Misguided and utterly toxic love from time to time but it's always been about love. He's had women throwing themselves at him left and right and yet he's always been faithful. Always true to Cersei. Why on Earth would he stop being faithful now? I believe sex and love are 100% intertwined for Jaime and he will not have sex with anyone he does not fully love. I always believed Jaime would have to put his relationship with Cersei behind him for anything to happen between him and Brienne (which is why I was so happy they didn't immediately kiss in ep 2). Whether that's the way the show sees it is another question...

When Jaime watched Brienne sleep afterwards that again can be read as regret or him thinking of Cersei and feeling guilty, wondering what he's done.  I'd like to think instead that he's really wrestling with his own demons here (and that btw is why I would have rather had a scene with them having a heart to heart and fucking sorting this shit out once and for all). First of all: Jaime hates himself and I'm 100% sure he doesn't think he deserves Brienne. I think he feels guilty for not being able to keep his distance. I think he's aware that he's still on thin ice both with the Starks and Dany but also with Cersei. A lot of people would rather see him dead. What would that mean for Brienne's reputation? And what would happen if Cersei found out about this? So I'd like to think he's realized that he's involving her in something very dangerous that could leave her dead or emotionally damaged. (And btw why would he be planning and discussing their future with Tyrion later when he's already considering Cersei straight after sex? He would have put a stop to it because again love > sex for Jaime).

I don't know how Jaime staying in Winterfell would make any sense if he was still madly in love with Cersei. And I'm not saying this through my Brienne/Jaime googles. This is completely independent of Brienne. He knows they will go to war against Cersei. He's not part of the war council because obviously they don't trust him and maybe he also doesn't want to be directly involved in the killing of his own blood. No matter what she will do, no matter how much he will fall out of love with her she is still family, still his blood and there will always be a part of Jaime that loves his family and his blood no matter what they do (see Tywin, see Tyrion). Him jumping at the chance to kill Cersei would be out of character regardless of whether he now loves Brienne or not. In any case, Jaime knows what's coming, has no illusions there so if he's truly still bound to Cersei why not leave then. It's been days? I really can't explain this one if the writers go with option 1.

now about the scene with Sansa and Brienne. Could be that he is worried about Cersei and it's only now sinking in that she will die. Could be that Sansa's snide comment triggered something in him. Buuuuuut he does not look happy when he learns about Cersei's success. He looks worried, he looks like he didn't expect that. I'm not saying he's not shook by Sansa's comment. As I said I believe he will never truly not care about Cersei, she has made him who he was, she has been the focus of his life for so many years, you can't just forget that. But there is a difference between him losing it and doing a 180 because he still wants Cersei and him feeling conflicted because he knows what Cersei is and what needs to be done but that doesn't erase their history.

and then finally the goodbye scene. Again this could be in line with option 1, in fact it seems very much in line with it. I'm not saying it's not. But there are signs that it might not be. Like "Have you ever run away from a fight?" for example. Cause that's what he's been doing! He stayed behind in Winterfell because leaving would have meant fighting on one side or the other. He was trying to avoid that I think. And I also think he's now realised he can't. I think he didn't expect Cersei to kill a dragon or capture someone close to Dany. I think he thought it would be easier to take her down but apparently, it's not and I think he's worried now. Worried that Cersei will win and what that will mean for everyone he loves (Tyrion, Brienne). He probably decided that he's got the best chance of finishing this or at least contributing to the end. He might have realized that they do not have the luxury of keeping him out of it. Then Brienne brings her hands to his face and starts to beg and you know what he does? HE NODS TO HIMSELF. You know when Jaime usually nods to himself??? When he realizes how good, and pure, and honourable and true Brienne is. When he realizes he will have to stop her from giving too much because of that (e.g. when she tries to give Oathkeeper back. He does this little nod that says "of course she would do this" and then he has to tell her to keep it!). I honestly think this is him going "right, of course, she would do this. Of course, it's not going to be that easy. Time to bring out the big guns." He then goes on to confess all of his bad deeds and yeah again this could be option 1. Him driving home how much he loves her and not Brienne. But honestly, does it seem like that? He's not gloating, he's not admitting to this easily (the way he used to when Cat had him). To me, it looks like he has to force himself to do this because he hopes that will convince her to a) let him go and b) not follow him. I think he's trying to cut ties because he doesn't want her with him for what he's about to do. I think he's trying to make her hate him because he doesn't expect to come back and he thinks this way will be easier on her. This is Jaime's version of throwing stones at Nymeria. And as much as I try and read this any other way I just can't.  Nevertheless, he made my girl cry and boy that's testing the limits of my love for him^^

What I think should (and could) now happen: I think it would make perfect sense for Jaime to go South on his own, infiltrate the capital, get to Cersei and play some part in her demise. I can even see them dying together as suggested by (unconfirmed) leaks but I doubt it will be in the spirit of  “We came into this world together, we'll leave it together”. If they die together, I think it's more likely that he will stay with her because of the love he still feels for her even though that love is nothing compared to what it used to be. Looking at the episode I feel like this would make so much sense and most importantly it would not butcher his arc.

What I suspect will happen instead: I'm bitter and sad and based on the crap D&D have done to Jaime and others in past seasons, based on this constant need for cruelty and shocking twists I fully expect them to go with option 1. They've had this hard-on for Cersei/Jaime since forever and even though that relationship is way past its expiration date they keep shoving it into our faces. I hate this for many reasons, especially for nullifying Jaime's arc, for turning Brienne into I don't even know what, his rebound I guess. I'm willing to forgive them much but not this. I'm okay with my faves being killed off but not if everything they have become through trauma and hardship is erased within 5 minutes. And the thought that this could very well be the last scene between Brienne and Jaime and that Brienne is either right to believe that Jaime has left her or might never know his true intentions if he does switch but dies beside Cersei is too much. I want to believe guys but I'm so bitter and I don't trust them with Jaime and I do not want to get my hopes up just to be utterly disappointed. So yeah, this is what I'm preparing myself for.

So to summarize: It was not as bad as it could have been and I do think the hate is a bit much but that always happens when you get incomplete spoilers and have HOURS to freak out and hate it even before it starts but jfc they still fucked up. Character assassinations left and right, bad writing and plot holes (Euron anyone???), unnecessary drama and the usual mix of racism and misogyny. In any case, I want to end on a positive note here, so let me just point out the ONLY things I will take away from this episode:

Brienne being beyond precious!

Jaime is GONE, my friends. GONE! (seriously though through the entire thing they kept stealing glances and it's so obvious Jaime talked to her about his family. We missed so much of their relationship in season 4  :( )

Probably not what I'm supposed to be focusing on but that entire scene just screams domestic old married couple. I'm a big fan of Jaime showing weakness in front of her and Brienne accepting and helping without a second thought.

I can't get over how much THEY TOUCH each other. It's been years with nothing but his hand on hers when she was going for the knife and now they're all over each other. And the best thing about it: It's so natural. It's so new but they act as if they've been doing this for years! No hesitation, no doubt and Brienne accepting that she’s allowed to do this now, that he wants it :) (also look at thiiiiiis)