#suck it up and help the family you fucking coward

[whoa-where-did-the-pancakes-go]

Can't do a single fucking thing without feeling selfish.

[dorothylarouge]

US Presidents as Dril Tweets

George Washington: another day volunteering at the betsy ross museum. everyone keeps asking me if they can fuck the flag. buddy, they wont even let me fuck it

John Adams: "ah boo hoo hoo i want to post Foul comments to content leaders" Fat Chance, Dimwit. I will annihilate you under bulwark of the Law and God.

Thomas Jefferson: Q: If your post was proven by a counsil of wise men to be racist, or bullshit, would you bar it from the record? A: I do not delete my posts

James Madison: (sniffing a crumpled up one dollar bill i found on the floor of a dog kennel) ah.. thats greenbacks baby

James Monroe: for decades i have traversed the unforgiving mountains and rivers of south america, hoping to catch a glimpse of the fabled "ass downloader"

John Quincy Adams: "This Whole Thing Smacks Of Gender," i holler as i overturn my uncle's barbeque grill and turn the 4th of July into the 4th of Shit

Andrew Jackson: handing Faves over to my enemies is FRAUD !! base, contemptible FRAUD!

Martin Van Buren: Food $200

Data $150

Rent $800

Candles $3,600

Utility $150

someone who is good at the economy please help me budget this. my family is dying

William Henry Harrison: (spends all of 7 seconds skimming some blog posts) yep. just as i knew all along. having pnuamonia is good

John Tyler: fuck "jokes". everything i tweet is real. raw insight without the horse shit. no, i will NOT follow trolls. twitter dot com. i live for this

James K. Polk: thhere is no such thing as charisma, and art is fake. the only metrics by which we must determine the worth of a man are Strength and Wisdom

Zachary Taylor: the doctor reveals my blood pressure is 420 over 69. i hoot & holler outta the building while a bunch of losers tell me that im dying

Millard Fillmore: trying to heal..... please donate to my go fund me... $10 will make me less racist... $100 will make me extremely less racist...thank you...

Franklin Pierce: blocked. blocked. blocked. youre all blocked. none of you are free of sin

James Buchanan: #NationalGirlfriendDay please cherish your gal's.. in honor of us, the single Boys who must sacrifice all companionship to #CarryTheBrand...

Abraham Lincoln: unloading an entire belt of ammo at me with a minigun or some such device will now get you "Blocked"

Andrew Johnson: who the fuck is scraeming "LOG OFF" at my house. show yourself, coward. i will never log off

Ulysses S. Grant: i regret being tasked the emotional burden of maintaining the final bastion of morality and Nice manners in this endless ocean of human SHIT

Rutherford B. Hayes: using the toilet when i hear Our national anthem start to play. i do what i must. i stand tall in complete agony; as shit runs down my leg,

James A. Garfield: too much truth in such little time. feeling the heat cominh down to silence me... signing off........ for now

Chester A. Arthur: i WILL wise the fuck up. i WILL super charge my content for 2017. i WILL get blue check mark

Grover Cleveland: the way i see it, people who come on here and submit content that is not up to par, could possibly be considered the "Villains" of this site

Benjamin Harrison: i help every body, im not racist, i keep myself nice, and when i ask for a single re-tweet in return i am told to fuck off, fuck myself, etc

William McKinley: boy oh boy do i love purchasing large amounnts of Fool's Gold. wait a minute... fools gold fucking sucks. this stuff is no good..!! Fuck !!!

Theodore Roosevelt: IF THE ZOO BANS ME FOR HOLLERING AT THE ANIMALS I WILL FACE GOD AND WALK BACKWARDS INTO HELL

William H. Taft: ah.. the perfect Souffle! cant wait to dig in to t(*EVERY PIPE IN MY HOUSE EXPLODES AT THE SAME TIME, COVERING ME IN SHIT AND BOILING WATER*

Woodrow Wilson: the conflicted supersoldier stares over the horizon as he smokes a cigarette. "war is the most fucked up thing ever." he takes a sip of beer

Warren G. Harding: somebody please Bribe me

Calvin Coolidge: aggressively joyless oaf hhere. painfully obnoxious respect demander checkign in. extremely dim witted frowning man looking for pals

Herbert Hoover: it is really quite astonishing that I have yet to win The Lottery, given how good I am at selecting six numbers and saying them out loud

Franklin D. Roosevelt: ive never heard of this “europe” but it sounds like a big bunch of shit to me

Harry Truman: everybody wants to be the guy to write the tweet that solves racism once and for all because it would look good as hell on a resume

Dwight D. Eisenhower: my "F*&k It!! Let's Go Golfin" t-shirt maintains a tenacious stranglehold on my life. after 1,125 days of Golf my body is twisted, deformed

John F. Kennedy: when you do sutuff like... shoot my jaw clean off of my face with a sniper rifle, it mostly reflects poorly on your self

Lyndon B. Johnson: incredibly handsome , charismatic famous boy credited with ending income inequality after saying that slumlords should be called "dumblords"

Richard Nixon: i attribute the complete failure of my brand to the actions of detractors, oor my “trolls”, as it were, as well as my own constant fuckups

Gerald Ford: shutting computer down until the shitty moods & attitudes can fuck off., if you need me ill be on my other computer, sititng 60° to my right

Jimmy Carter: i warnned you all that bad things would happen if you kept letting your wives wear jeans. AND NOW LOOK! the damn gas prices are up again

Ronald Reagan: spend a lot of time thinking about how sometimes even war criminals can be heroes sometimes... Dont like it? Click the unfollow buttobn

George H.W. Bush: just thought off an idea i believe to be bad ass. lets find the address of the leader of isis, and mail him/ her pieces of our SHIT

Bill Clinton: were at the point now, that when i offer to impregnate my girl followers, people assume my motives are sexual. disgusting, grow the fuck up,

George W. Bush: friday night gathering up together a big pile of things i like to respect (flags, crucifixes ,etc) and just roll around in it ,give kisses,

Barack Obama: my IQ has increased 10 points ever since i stopped tollerating people mucking about, on the time line

Donald Trump: THERAPIST: your problem is, that youre perfect, and everyone is jealous of your good posts, and that makes you rightfully upset.

ME: I agree

Joe Biden: I will shut the fuck up , IF , it will restore the Harmony. I will get on my knees like a dog and make that sacrifice, for the sake of Calm

[leah-lover]

Second chances. Alexia putellas x coach!reader.

Part 1. Part 2. Part 3.

summary : the confrontation between alexia and R.

Alexia always had a hold on you. Her stare would often captivate you and suck the air out of each room you were in. being stuck with her in the physio room, her muscular thighs on full display, was your worst nightmare. Her eyes seemed to devour every part of you and yours couldnt shy away from doing the same. There you both were 4 years after that night still looking at each other like nothing mattered in the world but the person in front of you. Your heart made it  its purpose to quickly remind you of the gaping hole she left in it. You remembered the amount of tears she drew from your eyes, and the delay she caused to your success and career. You shifted in your seat and looked away from her. You reminded yourself that the person in front of you wasn't  the love of your life anymore but the one that destroyed you. 

“ You don't know how many times I imagined us talking like this. I planned this speech many times but now that i have to do it i can't recall a word.” she says breaking the silence. Her voice was shaky which wasn't something you were used to. You hardly ever saw alexia nervous and fidgety which was interesting to witness. You didn't say a word though. You kept your composure as you always did and let her speak her mind. 

“ uhmm. I am sorry. I know that i fucked up really badly. I shouldn't have acted like that that night. I should have fought for you. Fought for us. I should have reprimanded Irene and done everything in my power to help keep us together but I was a coward. I chose the easy road. You don't know how sorry I am. I regret everything and if  I could go back I would stop you from leaving or leave with you.” 

You fantasized many times about what alexia would say if she was to apologize. What you dreamt of sounded like what she said but coming from her it didn't sound as satisfying as would have hoped. It  only made you angrier. You tried to keep your composer because it was your default setting. Your face was as emotionless as you could have it but your blood was boiling in your veins. You waited for her to add something but she didn't. . she was shaking and her eyes were glued on you. 

Realizing that she was done you got up to leave. She quickly hurried to your side. “ So you won't say anything?” she asked, nervousness clear in her voice. “ I said I would hear you out and I did.”  you respond with a monotone voice. 

“ Please say something.” she pleaded. 

“ What do you want me to say? You want me to say that you are forgiven. You are not. You destroyed me and for that I will hate you forever.” 

“ You don't mean that.” 

“ I don't mean what? The part where I said you destroyed me or the part where I said I hate you.” your voice was undermining and insulting which made her body visibly tense. 

“ I was in love with you and you chose you before me. You chose your career before me. You chose your family and friends before me. And what?  you think i am sorry and I regret everything would make me forgive you and come back to you.” you voice and body language were cruel. You laughed at her, undermined her presence and belittled her just with your tone. You saw her shrink before your eyes. You didn't mean to or maybe you did. But the image in front of you made your heart ripe.

“ I was dead without you. I couldnt breath, sleep, or eat. I thought that you would come after me and tell me that I am to you worth more than some stupid trophies or a legacy. I thought that you wanted to continue your life with me and that that night was just a mistake But you didn't. You left me alone and unemployed. You ruined me. You broke me. I had to learn how to breathe again. I had to learn how to sleep in my bed alone. I had to train my brain not to think about you  and not to try and hold out hope that you wanted me. You made me feel unloved and undeserving of everything.” you saw tears escape her eyes and stain red cheeks. 

“ I am stupid. I don't deserve you or  a second chance. But I can't help but miss you and need you. All I have is this stupid job and my memories of you. I replay them every night before I go to bed. I replay how my lips  felt on yours and how your head felt on my chest.  I should have come after you and told you that I love you more than anything but my ambition stood in the way. I thought that my career and the approval of my family  would fill the void in my heart but I was wrong. I love you. “ 

You two stood there with your hearts laid bare. You know how she felt and she knew how you felt. 

“ After all this time I love you too alexia.” you took a deep breath and you saw her eyes light up. “ But I can't trust you. I went through so much pain and anger. I don't think that I am capable of moving past it to be with you.” you swiped her tears away with your thumbs and gave her a quick peck on her lips. She didn't fight back, she wanted more but you stepped away from her and left the room. 

As soon as the door closed behind you tears streamed down your face as you ran away from the hallway. 

You were the last one to board the bus. You saw a glimpse of alexia whose head was lying on mapi's shoulder. Her eyes were puffy, her cheeks were red and your heart was no longer able to keep your feelings for her dormant. Two voices were screaming at you. One was reminding you of how much you love her and the other reminding you of how much she hurt you. You put on your headphones to try and drown out the noise that tortured you. 

Midnight found you awake, the image of alexia’s crying face was burned into your memory. A knock on your door stopped you from cursing yourself for thinking about going back to her. When you opened the door you found Irene in front of you. 

“ Can I come in?” she asked. You stepped aside to let her in. 

“ I am a jerk.” she stated. “ Yeah you are.” you responded. 

 “ You haven't done anything to hurt me but I have done everything to hurt you. I was young, jealous, and angry. Everything that happened was on me and it was my fault. And for that I apologize. I knew that night that it would hurt you and get you to leave so I did it. I was a child jealous that her best friend found love and she didn't. I am not excusing my behavior which was wrong. I am giving you a much needed apology.” 

“ Thank you.” you respond. 

“ alexia loves you. She is deeply in love with you.” 

“ Irene, stop.” you interrupt her. 

“ She truly loves you and she truly is sorry for everything. She would do anything to be with you again. She was a mess when you left. That's why I didn't want you to take the job. I knew how much she had gone through and how much she still loves you. And when I looked at you I saw that you too still loved her. In  an effort to save my friend I was rude to you. Hate me but please try to find the will to forgive her.” 

You didn't know what to do with what she told you. Your heart was burning for Alexia and you knew now that hers yearned for you too. 

You pick up your phone and look at her contact. Will you forgive her or shut her out again?

[sootical]

Permanence

->Wilbur Soot x Reader (hinted but never explicitly stated) ->No use of Y/n ->I tried to be as gender neutral as possible.

*Hurt, minimal comfort, hopeful ending TW: Su*cidal ideation, Self destructive thoughts and actions, SH mentions/references, depression, lots and lots of depression. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK Summary: You are stuck in a multi-month long depressive episode, and it's gotten so much worse. You're on your last leg, and you need someone to help you. Good thing best friend(?) Wilbur and his band are there to help :] Word Count - 2.4k

Wilbur Soot. Twitch streamer turned famous musician, heartthrob—you get it. He’s everything anyone could want in a partner. Trust me, I would know. He’s been my best friend since form. And since then, he’s only ever been kind and considerate and just overall an amazing person. What a guy right? With his stupid brown hair that covers one of his eyes when it’s outgrown. Stupid brown eyes that have just the right amount of dark and light brown in them. It’s stupid of me really, to ever hope for a future with him that involves us being more than friends. I can only hope though, right? He’s up there, in the states, singing his heart out on a stage. While I’m stuck, on the other side of paradise–more like purgatory–lamenting on how many people adore him. I’m feeling sorry for myself, rotting away in bed at 2 in the morning. It’s not like I have to work in three hours–whaaaat nooooo… A knot develops in my stomach at the mere thought of leaving my bed. Maybe losing my job isn’t so bad. Wilbur has told me time and time again he’d pay me to edit for him. But I could never make him do that. Never would I take advantage of him like that. I’d feel like more of a burden than I already do. The thought of him having to support me financially makes me want to vomit. It makes my skin crawl, so it’s okay if I waste away. If I end up rotting away in my bed. It’s fine. At least then I wouldn’t be able to consume too much of Wilbur’s time. Taking up too much of his time has always been my biggest fear. To me, it came true a long time ago and I’m finally reaping what I sowed. It sucks really, how I thought I'd have a shot. Just for it all to blow up in my face. Now he’s somewhere in America–having the time of his life. Good for him. Bad for me.

Reaching over, I grab my phone. My coworkers probably hate me. I keep asking them to cover my shifts so I can rot in bed for another day. It’s been like this since–September? It started off just once every few weeks. Now, it being almost December, I’ve not gone to work in over two weeks. What’s the point anymore anyways? I can’t do this. I can’t do anything. Deep down, when I started doing things for myself–I knew I wouldn’t be able to do this. That was two years ago. I guess I’m finally breaking.

Pulling the duvet over my head, I try not to think about how my breath smells, and the uncomfortable way the oil sticks to my face. I shove my head into the pillow. Trying to block out the sounds of people existing below my apartment. It’s so much easier to rot away when people don’t rely on you. When you have no reason for existence. I don’t want to die. But at the same time I don’t want to live. I’m too much of a coward to do anything about it, so I lay and wait. I wait for some omnipotent being to strike me down and judge me for how I’ve managed to mess up any and all relationships I’ve ever had with anyone. Me and Nikki haven’t spoken in almost a year. Me and Wilbur haven’t even seen each other in months My family doesn’t talk to me.

I wish I could say “The world is fucked and everyone hates me.” But that’s not the truth. The truth is I am my own undoing. I have destroyed everything I’ve worked for. Any relationships–platonic and romantic–have fallen through because of my own emotions and insecurities getting in the way. It’s not fair for anyone. Well, anyone except for me. I brought this upon myself. My phone is the only thing lighting up my face. I looked at the time. Suddenly it’s six in the morning, and I’m late for work. The thought makes me want to cry, but I can’t. I can’t tell if it’s apathy—or dehydration. 

I call my boss. She answers. “Where are you?! I haven’t seen you in weeks! I’m worried about you hun, do you need me to call someone?” She opens, sounding both relieved and shocked I even called. I clear my throat the best I can, swallowing saliva feels like eating sandpaper. “I uh..I was calling to let you know I won’t be coming back. I’m quitting. And I’m sorry for not putting in my two weeks. It’s not–” Something foreign is bubbling up in my throat, I force myself to swallow it down. “-It’s not fair to you. And I’m sorry.” I whisper, hanging up shortly after.

I feel terrible for worrying her. I feel terrible for upsetting her. I feel terrible. I am terrible. I’m a parasite. I always have been. Mooching off of others in order to help myself get by. My thoughts fall back to Wilbur. I’ve been mooching off of him for however long we’ve been friends. I want him to be happy. I don’t want him to feel like he needs to be my friend to keep me alive. But at the same time–I can’t do this anymore. I can’t look myself in the mirror and tell myself it’s me. I can’t. I’m not the person I thought I’d become. I’m not the person I thought I was. I’m useless. My phone rings again. I go to decline it, I can’t. 

Wilbur’s face greets me. His contact photo, the two of us at the amusement park I helped them film for Tommy’s vlog channel. We’re smiling. His arm over my shoulder, and my head on his arm. I remember that day. Wilbur held me for a bit while Tommy and Phil were off filming a different part of the vlog with Russ. I was overwhelmed and so was he, so we took the time to chill by the snack stands. He got tommy cotton candy, and we split popcorn even though he couldn’t really taste it. We spent a good time just taking funny pictures with each other. I remember that day, it was a great one.

Tears breach my eyes before I can stop them. A sob ripping through me, I force my face into the pillow to muffle it. The ringing stops. My tears don’t, and that makes me feel so much worse. My chest convulses as my sobs reverberate through the room. I’m a mess. I’m laying in my bed, rotting. Wasting away and feeling sorry for myself. Everything is terrifying, every breath I take reminds me of how I’m alive. Reminds me of how I can’t escape the feeling of impending doom that washes over me. I’m going to die here. I’m going to die. I was never permanent. 

I knew I couldn’t do this. I’ve been lying to myself, little lies, white lies. To convince myself everything was okay. That it was fine for me to fall in love, it was fine for me to believe I wasn’t just taking up space. That I wasn’t slowly getting tired. 

Contemplating whether or not cut myself some slack–but ending up just cutting myself loose. I lift the duvet from my head, staring at the ceiling. My eyes flick to the ground, clothes and food everywhere. Some of it’s moldy. It makes me feel worse about myself. Turning my head, I look to my PC. I should sell it. Someone else would be much happier with it. I haven’t used it in a while anyways. I can’t take care of any of the stuff I have can I? 

My phone rings again, this time I do answer. 

“Oh my god–” I hear multiple people take a sharp breath in. I can’t stop myself from making a small noise of confusion. “Hey..Your boss–called us.” I recognize the voice to be Joe. I lift the phone, checking the caller ID. It was Wilbur again. “Wil—?” It hurts so bad to talk, I haven’t used my voice this much since the end of October. I hear a choked noise and whispers. “We’re gonna—come over there okay? The tour ended last night, no gigs for a while. Wil’s been missing you y’know.” I can’t tell who said that, “I–no. Sorry.” I don’t know why I said that. I don’t know why I hung up either.

Maybe deep down I did want them to help, I do want their help. But logically–It’s for the best.

I swing my legs over the side of my bed, cringing at how my clothes hang off of me. My back hurts something awful. I’m so tired. 

Yet I stand on two feet and walk to my bathroom. I look at myself in the mirror, I don’t recognize them. My hair–too long and too oily for it to be mine. My skin is pale and the bags under my eyes are so dark they could rival a racoon. 

It’s then that my legs decide to give out. I can feel my knees split as I hit the tile. I’m so tired. I look down at the sweater I’m wearing. It’s one of Wil’s. I can’t remember when I put it on. I can’t remember a lot of things recently. Like when this got so bad. Or when my arms started to sting. My eyes are heavy, I can barely keep them open. Maybe a nap wouldn’t be so bad.

When I wake up it’s to voices around me. I’m laying on something warm–It’s moving. I can’t find it in myself to open my eyes. My breathing picks up, and I hear an intake of air accompanied by a hand on my forehead. My eyes are shooting open in fear before I’m trembling. He’s above me, looking down at me like I could break.

I look around, there's two other people. I can barely make them out. Joe and Ash. It’s hard to think. It’s so hard to think. 

“There you are..” Wilbur whispers, his pointer finger gently stroking my cheekbone. “What happened to you love?” I can’t tell if it’s his tone, or the fact he looks so broken. But I can’t stop my eyes from watering and my body from turning into him, hiding myself away. Embarrassment filled me, they’d seen it all. The moldy food, the dirty clothes. They probably saw the abundance of mail I'd gotten as well. People are walking out the room. Not Wilbur, he stays. He stays and makes me look at him. “Here’s what’s gonna happen, I’m gonna help you shower, and they’re going to clean and get you food. Okay?” My eyes widened. I shake my head so quickly it hurts. His face falls, he looks down at what I’m wearing. His face falls even more. “Love…” He whispers. “I don’t–I can’t. Don’t make me.” I whisper. Wilbur wipes away my tears and shakes his head. “No. You’re going to get clean, eat, and then you will sleep for however long you need to.” He lifts me like I’m nothing.

He sets me on the toilet, turning to the tub and turning on the faucet. He waits for it to get warm before he’s plugging the drain and helping me get undressed. He brushes the hair from my face, he frowns at the sight of the back of my head. He looks down at my arms before I can see him clenching his jaw. “We’ll work on the matts too.” He picks me up again, placing me in the tub and going to shut the door. He grabs a towel from the cabinet, as well as a washcloth. He swipes the comb from the counter.

“I’m sorry.” I can’t help but whisper. He sighs. “I know. But it’s alright. We were worried about you.” Was all he said before he’s dousing my hair in water. He keeps a hand on my forehead, stopping the water from getting into my eyes. And with that, he applies conditioner and starts to de-matt my hair. An hour and countless tub refills later, my hair is de-matted and I’m clean. Feeling slightly better too. Wilbur gave me the crewneck he was wearing for comfort, before planting a kiss on my forehead and leaving the room to grab other clothes. The sounds from the outside are a lot less foggy now. I can hear the boys outside bickering and talking. “Are they okay Wil?” “What happened?” “From your face, I can tell it wasn’t good.”

I can’t help but stand weakly, the towel wrapped around me. I look in the mirror. I look a little more like myself. I touch my face, I look pale. I am pale. My hair is a bit longer now. I don’t smell bad anymore. I do feel better, but I can’t help but think I’m making Wilbur do this.

Wilbur reappears, he looks at me and smiles. He hands me the clothing he picked out before leaving the room once again, though he stands just outside the door.

I dress quickly. Slipping on Wilbur’s crewneck once I have my shirt on. I walk out, giving Wilbur a small smile. “You uh–You didn’t have to do this.” He takes my hand and leads me through my now clean apartment. “I did. Because if I didn’t–If we didn’t, you’d be dead right now, or you’d have killed yourself soon.” He says, sitting me down at the table that’s been cleared off. “Now, be honest. When is the last time you remember eating something?” He asks. 

My face drops. That’s the thing–I can’t. “Uh–Tuesday?” I say, like I even know what day it is, his face falls. “It’s Friday.” He deadpans before going into the kitchen, he comes back with Ash, Mark, and Joe. They each have both in their hands. Wilbur has two.

“It’s just soup. Easy on the stomach.” Joe pipes up before sitting on my right, Wilbur sits on my left, and Ash and Mark sit across from me. “We don’t need to talk about things right now, no one is going to make you. But you need to talk to someone soon. Maybe not us, but someone.” Wilbur said, putting his hand on my knee. “Yeah. I think I can do that.” They smile, I eat my soup, and for the first time since September–I feel permanent. 

[lacksley]

Okay so imagine this: something catastrophic happens that completely burns through your bank account and you have nothing. So in desperation, you take this long contract from a company halfway across the world and it completely sucks, but at least you’ll get a big bonus for completing the contract that will be enough to fix/help with the catastrophe that took all your money.

You are the farthest you’ve ever been away from home, and there is no quick easy way to go back if you’re homesick (because that would be much easier than going through with this contract). There is only a very expensive ticket for a very long plane ride (which you can’t afford anyways without the company paying for you to relocate when you finish your work), so you have to wait out the length of your contract to get paid the completion bonus.

Two things are absolutely going to happen: number 1, you are going to finish your contract, and number 2, you are going to go back home. Neither of those things were ever in doubt, and nothing can change your mind. You need to go back home, that’s where your life and your family is, your people, so why even bother getting attached to anyone while you’re half a world away.

So you try keeping everyone at arm’s length but it’s hard, people are social creatures, so instead of acting like a cold asshole to everyone you just act normal, if a bit evasive about your personal life.

When you get there the team you are forced to be a part of is just two other people who also don’t really know what they’re doing.

Your new “friends” don't even know you're from half a world away, you didn't tell them, they just think you're the new hire. It’s a little weird you don’t know much of the local culture, and just happen to know a lot about what it's like to live half a world away. And you end up never telling them because it's too hard so you carry this secret inside you like a fire that's burning you up from the inside.

So eventually your team gets a project lead, and she just so happens to have ancestors from where you are from. She’s pretty knowledgeable about your home (even though she gets some things wrong) but is interested to hear more about it from you, and she’s also just so fucking smart and you have so many things in common. She challenges you every day, not just at work but mentally and philosophically and how could you not fall in love with her?

But she’s just a local, the company forced her into the project lead position, and even though she wasn’t really prepared for it the work she’s doing is starting to get recognized and praised by other departments, and the team she has built (which includes you) is accomplishing things no one thought was possible.

So when the project is getting finalized, before it’s completed, you tell her that you can’t be with her, and even worse, you can’t bring yourself to explain the truth of why. You can’t deal with the hard conversations of how to make this work, so you just act like you made a mistake (because you did, you are taking the coward’s way out) and hurt her even more than you would have if you were honest about who you are or what your future plans were from the start.

At the end of the project, at its completion, everyone is celebrating and happy, and you just slip away in the noise because you have to leave. 

The company didn’t even pay you the completion bonus, which was the whole fucking reason you took this contract in the first place, but at least you have enough money now from your regular salary to buy your own ticket back home, even if you have to start from scratch to help them.

Your plane leaves that night, and because you’re halfway across the world you didn’t leave a forwarding address or contact information or anything (you couldn’t bring yourself to share it because that would mean telling the truth). So all they know about you is your name and that you weirdly (to them) know a lot about your home country.

But they wouldn’t be able to find you back home anyways, even if they could get there, because everyone at home just calls you a cruel nickname that stuck from when you were younger.

And you know that the team is confused about why you left so suddenly, without saying goodbye (even to her). But you had to leave, because you have to help with the catastrophe back home. 

Even though it feels like you left a piece of yourself behind.

[turtlesocksv2]

Liveblogging Dead Friend Forever ep 3

It's Saturday and you know what that means! That's right, it's time for our weekly look at Gay Teens Stuck In A Cult Murder Woods While A Serial Killer Who Might Be A Ghost Is Out To Get Them!

In the recap I JUST noticed that Phi is the one like "Nah you're friend probably just moved! :) It's Fine :)" before he convinces them to remake the movie and I just....Sus King.

Phi doesn't want Top to go for help alone and like...he's right! Not only is Top a coward who will probably abandon them, it's also just a dumb idea! There is a serial killer out there! If Top is alone, he is going to Get Got. Phi is being smart, actually! And Tee just straight up asks Phi if he wants Por to die and my poor Sus King stays silent. I support your murder agenda!

Tan getting Top to spill some secrets! So Top and Non had issues, you say? 👀 And the road to town is conveniently blocked you say? 👀 i feel the killer getting closer lmao RIP Top you will not be missed.

Fluke is the only one who realizes that they shouldn't disturb a crime scene. Tee is the one who says "well then let's just burn it and get rid of the evidence!" and like....what on earth did y'all do three years ago. you absolutely killed someone for the Forest Cult didn't you.

Oh ewww i really didn't need the random dog licking the corpse with gross noises. but also, don't shoo away the dog! The dog can alert you to the killer lurking! The dog will be your friend! Nothing better happen to the dog or Be On Cloud and I are gonna have Words

White didn't even want to come! He wasn't supposed to be there! It's supposed to be his day off! I like how Phi tells White to stay behind while they go try to rescue Top and Tan - because White's not involved in this. It also keeps one of the non-involved trio with Fluke, One with Top and Phi has the other group. Each group has a non-involved person to keep an eye on their shady, potentially Non-Murdering asses.

Tan made it all the way back to the Valley Mansion by himself? 👀 Ok, Sus King, we still on board the good ship Phi And Tan Are The Killer.

LOL Tee really keeps calling Phi out, it's so funny.

Tan must have hit his head or something for them to but the "by the time i got up Top AND the motorbike were gone!"

Fluke you KNOW you cannot be shaking Por like that. You are absolutely trying to kill Por before his dying guilty conscience spills the beans on what you guys did to Non. And Ooooo White stealing the hard drive with the movie on it because Fluke made him suspicious. Way to go, pulling the innocent act. You might just survive. Ah, but it's broken.

The shrine and al lthe blood is very well done very creepy. Tan's asthma is absolutely gonna get him killed tho.

Oooooh White found a gun under Por's mattress. Interesting. and he's keeping it because he doesn't fucking trust Fluke which is so smart of him.

Lol love them quadruple-teaming the masked killed. like, yes! there's way more of you than of him! But then they run away like...no! just tackle him and unmask him! there are four of you!!!

dying at Phi and Jin trapped in the box/coffin together and Phi saying he'll protect Jin.

"it's nothing why would you want to watch it hat much" because you are SUSPICIOUS as FUCK, Fluke and White is not actually stupid maybe??????? Fluke has lost his damn mind.

So we have confirmation that Por took money from someone he shouldn't have - Non, probably? Weird.

Por's rich ass family has a mansion in walking distance to the Cult Murder Shrine. So Theory: Por's rich ass family are cult members who sacrifice people. the friend group got sucked into three years ago and tried to sacrifice Non, who thought he was their friend but was basically their bullying victim. Non escaped and is now Out For Revenge and I am eagerly awaiting Unhinged Barcode. Pretty sure Phi and Tan are also Team Revenge, but it could also just be that they and Phi especially are Nosey Bitches. I support them either way.

[rockbottomwithashovel]

Tw suicide

Hey guys. I'm just posting this to say why... And to say I'm sorry. I don't know what to say, I suck at goodbyes. I just don't think I can do this anymore. It's like the universe is giving me more reasons to die each day.

I never wanted it to be this way. I started to think I could actually recover, live a long and happy life. But that moment was so short. I just can't do it.

I haven't been able to be happy for more than a minute since I was 10. I was just a child, and I had already gone through so much. But it was only just starting.

When I was 7 or 8 I was sexually assaulted. It was around this time that I started to more or less live on pot noodles as I wasn't allowed to make anything, but my mum mentally couldn't either.

When I was 10-13 I was emotionally and mentally abused. I was bullied for years, they made me do things and if I didn't I'd be the one with the bruise. The guilt eats me every day. There are rooms and memories from that time and school that don't make sense and I can't remember. I don't know why. The bullying even came from teachers. This was a private Christian school.

From when I was 10 I had to spend most excursions at home as we nearly lost the house, and I had to miss days of school to stay home and look after my mum, who was suffering from depression and needed support. This was when the household chores all fell on to me and my twin.

When I was 13 my mum tested me against my consent for aspergers syndrome (now called ASD). It came back positive. She told me when I didn't want to know. This caused a chaotic and unstable household. I was suffering ptsd that I didn't understand. My parents made me feel crazy. I was running away and coming back, missing school, not sleeping. Asking for affection but only getting attention if I was a problem. There was so much screaming and fighting and I was all alone, no friends, no family helping me through, even my twin was against me.

When I was 15 I told my best friend of 10 years that I have ASD. She never spoke to me since.

When I was 16 I was groomed by a man online, leading to me seeking out more aggressive and manipulative people online to make me feel good about myself. The shame lasted longer than anything else. Then the pandemic hit. My friend tried to kill herself. She left most people notes... Not me. She doesn't really speak to me now. I don't know what I did wrong.

By 18, I had tried to kill myself more times than I could count, never getting far (I was only 13 when I first attempted).But things started to look up. I had survived school.

Now, at 19, I've been to aa, the mental ward twice in one year for suicide attempts, I have depression, anxiety, ptsd, insomnia, atypical anorexia, suicidal thoughts, I self harm so much I could never wear short sleeves again. And I'm having psychotic episodes. I don't know what it is, I'm scared to be diagnosed, but my therapist has suggested a few things. As someone (if you've looked closely at my blog, you'll know who) once said, it's a living, breathing nightmare.

Maybe I am a coward. Maybe it's just too much and I'm too weak. But it hurts so much or I can't feel at all. I can't keep doing this.

People say they love me, that I'm important or they'd miss me. But I just don't know if I can believe that. People call me pretty but the mirror makes me want to hurt myself. I'm ugly. Unlovable. I'm just a burden and a waste of space. I'm so sorry if I am important to you. I don't want to traumatize anyone or hurt anyone but this just hurts so fucking much I don't know how much longer I can be strong. Maybe I'm just not meant for this.

I need you all to know I love you. You mean so much to me. I'm so fucking sorry if I hurt you. I'm so sorry. If you're struggling, please get help. You deserve happiness, hope, love. I believe in you. It will get better. If you see someone struggling, please look after them, even just a stranger on the train with leaking eyeliner. Just ask if they're OK. You could save their life.

I've got pierce the veil on the 27th. I'll do it after that. I'm not sure if I can hold on that long though. I'm so sorry for any pain I'm causing. I hope you're all OK <333

Love,

Rock

[cartoonfanaticmonsterrobotalien]

Solar Opposites in Mighty Solars Issue #4: “Fighting for Family” Ch. 5

That night…

At a abandon warehouse, La Smaragdus sneaks in while cutting a chain with a garden shed and sneaks in while turning on the lights and the machine starts.

La Smaragdus: Oh hell yeah! I got you now you damn priceless diamond!

La Smaragdus approaches the diamond but then, the machine starts working as she gasp!

La Smaragdus: Yes! I’m gonna be rich!

Suddenly, she sees a shadow and gasp. Then, suddenly a metal claws grab her as she scream. She tries using her diamond powers but the claw throws her to the wall as she screams.

La Smaragdus: What the fuck?! Grr!

La Smaragdus then runs out of the factory and into the junkyard as she searches around for who is responsible for this.

La Smaragdus: Where are you?! Come out you coward!

Then, suddenly, she sees Jamie, Darcy and Miss Frankie throwing down a pack of knick knacks as she screams and slips on them.

Darcy: Suck it up, bitch!

Jamie: Alright!

Miss Frankie: That’s what we’re talking about!

La Smaragdus: Why you-

Then. A laser was blast at La Smaragdus but she duck and sees Kevin and his family with Principal Cooke and Randall and Janice on a laser machine.

Randall: Taste laser! FIRE!

The group fires the laser again at La Smaragdus as she screams but then slips on an oil spill as she screams and gets hit in the face by a wall.

La Smaragdus: DAMN IT!

Louise: offscreen Nice slide bitch!

Trevor: offscreen Hell yeah!

La Smaragdus looks up and growls upon seeing spill oil cans near Louise, Trevor and Phoebe and Stacy G.

Stacy G: Eat that bi-atch!

La Smaragdus: Enough! shoots her diamond powers at the people, who dodge it I AM GONNA CRUSH YOU GUYS ONCE AND FOR ALL!

??: Ahem!

La Smaragdus turns around sees Monica, who Krav Maga’d a bracelet out of La Smaragdus’ wrist and it shatters into pieces, much to Smaragdus’ horror.

Monica: Sorry not sorry.

La Smaragdus: No! You fools! This isn’t over! I’ll rock you! And smash you and crush you like-

A giant metal claw taps La Smaragdus on the right shoulder as she turns around.

Human Jesse Solar-Opposites: Like, Lady?

La Smaragdus: What?!

Human Jesse Solar-Opposites: You’re a bad actress!

Human Jesse then aims her claw at the gemstone on La Smaragdus’s forehead and rips it out as she grows powerless.

La Smaragdus: NOOOOOOOO!

Human Jesse Solar-Opposites: Come on guys! Let’s skaddadle on our new spaceship family bus!

Then, a spaceship bus arrives and Human Korvo and Human Terry opens the door as they help their friends up and look down in triumph as La Smaragdus.

Human Terry Solar-Opposites: How you like them apples?!

La Smaragdus: What?! Who the fuck are you two and what have you done?! You ruined everything!

Human Korvo Solar-Opposites: We’re the new neighbors the Opposites, and when you mess with Earth-4, you messed with its inhabitants!

La Smaragdus gets up.

La Smaragdus: This ain’t over! I’ll be back for revenge and-

Then, the police arrives.

Sheriff: La Smaragdus! You’re under arrest!

La Smaragdus tries to use her powers but to her horror they’re gone!

La Smaragdus: NO!

Sheriff: Cuff her boys!

Ms. Perez: comes up to them with the stolen jewelry And here are the gems she stolen.

La Smaragdus: No! You will regret this! I was going to make millions!

Sheriff: Yeah! Yeah! Tell it to the judge, Smaragdus!

As La Smaragdus is driven away Human Korvo removes his hair tie.

Human Korvo Solar-Opposites: So, what do you think of this hairstyle, Terry? flips it back and forth

Human Terry blushes and stammers.

Human Terry Solar-Opposites: O-oh! M-m-m-y G-g-od! You look so hot baby!

Human Korvo chuckles and speaks Spanish to seduce Human Terry.

Human Korvo Solar-Opposites: You sure this new life is sexy for you, mi amore?

Human Terry Solar-Opposites: Oh ho ho! You know what Spanish does to me.

Human Korvo Solar-Opposites: I sure do. And I love it!

The two human alien husbands kiss as they moan

Special thanks to @avaveevo, @asikreading, @themagicwolf6677, @king-of-squishmallows and all of my watchers for their ideas and support.

[doubleddenden]

Man I tell you. Having a shit birthday does something to you. When I turned 30 I was okayish. I wasn't thrilled, but I'd rather have an uneventful birthday than an awful one.

I feel like I got hit with so much that I simultaneously aged 20 years, but also I didn't even experience my birthday. Like when I turned 30 I felt it, maybe a little younger. But 31? It didn't even get to register because of 1 person. Can't even enjoy my birthday present I bought for myself with my own money because I'm too busy having to help their bullshit instead. Even the "birthday party" was monopolized by them making it about themselves. To top it off, even the power went out for no reason while I am sick.

Can I get a do over? Please? A nice birthday with a cake that doesn't suck ass, some nice music that doesn't make me want to scream, and people I care about that aren't just family concerned with what I can physically do for them? A healthy body so I can enjoy it, please? Just 1 day. Just 1. Just 1 day about me? I know I'm not the main character of my own life- i got that painful lesson when i was a child and had my whole life be centered around other people's drama and how it could harm me- but god do I hate being reminded of it by people thinking THEY are the main character of EVERYONE'S life.

Like man I'm not asking for a suite of personal skimpy nerdy maids to cater to my every whim (which would be wonderful don't get me wrong), but I would like at least 1 friend there. I would like a cake that doesn't feel and taste weird in my mouth- honestly I'd like a strawberry cheesecake or a lemon pound cake. With a candle at least. Doesn't even have to be that nice or big. I don't have to wake up early or listen to screaming children, the power doesn't go out, the conversation doesn't need to be about me personally but I'd rather it not be monopolized to someone else i despise, a gift for me that actually feels heart felt, and I'd like to not be infected by a sickness that could have been prevented. No words about shit I gotta do, no responsibilities, no catastrophic bullshit, just. A nice birthday with nice memories. Is it too much to ask for that? Is it too much to ask for that instead of a quiet and forgettable one, let alone an awful one ruined by someone that can't just stay in line or do anything right?

I swear man. I'm not happy to be alive at all. I fucking despise waking up every day. I know I'm not allowed to stop because others would be inconvenienced about my passing and unfortunately there would be consequences to animals and people down the road (not to mention im a spineless coward), but GOD man when do I finally get to live MY life FOR me? I get it, I'm worthless beyond what I can do for someone else, I'm a single, ugly, jobless and childless loser of a failure not worth dedicating just 1 fucking day to me from my family, but Jesus fucking christ I deserve a redo from the top.

That bitch has taken so much from me. My sanity. My health. My happiness. Most of my fucking family. Even my god damn hair. How the absolute fuck do you take a DAY from someone? I'd wish something awful happen to them if it wouldn't just become MY problem to deal with like it does everything else involving them.

Fuck it's been days and I'm still angry. I gotta wait a god damn year for my next birthday and who even KNOWS what will ruin that one. Maybe another fucking power outage? Maybe the stupid bitch pokes another bear with a wasp nest and makes it my problem? Maybe the only other person to traumatize me more comes to ruin it too?

I hate everything. I want to be positive but I can't. I want to get over it but I can't. I want to let it go but I can't. I'm fucking 31 and I know these feelings are childish and need to bury them and grow up and stop feeling anything besides complacency, but I can't. All I can do is bottle this resentment and anger this person gives me. All I can do is sit here and fester because they can't even let me have ONE. FUCKING. DAY. Without making it about themself.

Happy fucking birthday you worthless sack of shit. You're not worth anything. You're not worth the shit you're forced to clean up. You're not worth a day or a conversation. You're worth LESS than nothing.

[geteffed]

rick headcanons?

SHDHAHSJDA AAAAAA yes okay let me smoke first

Alright I just smoked.

So, this is gonna be long and scrambled but here we go

Rick definitely loves morty a lot but refuses to admit it to himself because what is love yknow? You have so much love for one person (Diane) and then you don’t really feel the same type of love for anyone else. He loves Morty and Beth (his favorite relatives) a whole lot but not in the same way. Even Beth and Space Beth are loved and admired in different ways guys he just loves his family okay. He even cares for Jerry. Like okay rant right here umm TW emotions but I love my dad right and he loves my uncle but I don’t really no my uncle so I can’t say I really love him. I care about him. Idk if it’s love for sure

Okay rant over

Um also this one is like… tmi so I won’t stay on it long but in a world where beth looked exactly like Diane…. Yeaaaaaaaah that’s more of an intrusive headcanon I’m sorry to fuck y’all’s eyes up

And also HES IN LOVE WITH BIRDPERSON LIKE BACK ON THE DIANE TOPIC I think he loved Diane in the way that you would want to spend the rest of your life with them and he loved birdperson in a similar perspective to that but he loved birdperson in the ride or die way. Like, 50/50 everything on the table, trauma bonded stoner husbands (omg shoutout to Cade + his husband who don’t know I use tumblr) like their relationship is literally rick/birdperson wish you guys knew them.

Um yeah so he loved birdperson but not the same way as Diane like, I would be explaining this with percentages but 1. I’m so fucking stoned rn and 2. You can’t measure a nonexistent thing in percentages. Love is a concept, love mean something different to everyone and it really can’t be calculated… I think I might be demisexual wow okay breakthrough

I feel weird about that one paragraph now wow whatever y’all don’t think about it too hard. Open your minds to concepts even if they are fucked up. It’s so fun to think about but it gets sad when it’s reality idk don’t cancel me? Or do. Cowards.

Also. He invents things for his grandkids to show love. Like, sometimes I wish I could build a robot to help my dad because damn I want him to get helped but also ummm also um fuck what was I— OH YEAH I WANT HIM HELPED BUT I realllllyyyyy don’t feeling like being in his presence yknow I don’t really wanna have a “dad” conversation rn

Wow I’m talking a lot about my own life. Okay spoiler alert I have a dad and a brother and both of them suck.

But yeah I’m out of thoughts and I’m gonna smoke more now

[hexiewrites]

make this inn our own: the lost years

note: I wrote this out while I was working on make this inn our own as a way to get the timeline right in my head. in the end, a lot of this information makes it into the fic itself, but I figured I'd post this in case anyone wanted to read it! you could read this without reading the fic, but note that there are some spoilers ahead! nothing that I think would ruin the fic if you choose to read this first, but it will remove some of the fun surprises I've thrown in for you as readers. either way, hope you enjoy!!

Steve leaves Hawkins right after he graduates high school. His dad drags him out of town one day early in the summer, literally the night before he’s supposed to start his new job at Scoops Ahoy. Steve begs to stay, wants to be around the kids just in case something else happens like it had in the fall even though they’re all pretty sure it’s over and they’re safe now. But he can’t say that to Richard, and Steve might be eighteen but he sure won’t make enough money at his mall job to pay for rent. What’s he going to do? Sleep in the Wheeler’s groddy basement? Absolutely not. Richard sells the beemer, sells the house, and packs his family off and away to the big apple.

Steve gets a job at Richard’s office, and puts his head down, and tries to convince himself everyone will be better off without him.

Dustin calls to yell, and Steve doesn’t call back. It hurts too much.

Robin Buckley starts at Scoops, and Steve Harrington’s name is on the schedule. He never shows up for training, and her manager grumbles and complains about spoiled rich kids and offers the job to the next teenager who shows up with a resume.

That teenager happens to be one Eddie Munson, who is already two senior years failed and in desperate need of more money to fund his D&D habit. He’s selling drugs by now, a little here and there, but Wayne told him to go and try to be respectable for once.

He almost quits when he sees the uniform, but no one else would hire a metalhead freak, so he sucks it up.

Dustin shows up after camp looking for Steve, and is devastated when Robin has no idea where he went. But Eddie spots his walkie, asks some questions, gets him to open up. Finally, Dustin, having no idea where his best friend has disappeared off to (he bikes to the Harringtons, it’s empty with a For Sale sign on the lawn) asks Robin and Eddie to help him crack the Russian code.

Eddie’s the one who recognizes the music, mostly because he’d been trying to make a mix tape in a back hallway at the mall and the stupid ride kept interrupting his recordings, even though he’s no use at any of the Russian stuff.

Dustin recruits Erica, the four break into the base, and Eddie learns much earlier that even though he’s a fucking coward, he knows how to plant his feet and stay when his friends need him. He doesn’t know when Band Girl Buckley and pre-freshman-dork-Dustin become his friends, but he throws himself in front of a Russian guard to save them, and knows he’d have done a lot more than that if he needed to.

Robin comes out to Eddie on the mall bathroom floor, and Eddie laughs and comes out right back, telling her about his embarassing crush: Steve Harrington.

He was supposed to work here, Robin says, with a snort and a laugh. Can you even imagine, Steve Harrington fighting off Russian Guards?

And that’s hilarious in it’s own right, but then Eddie remembers the uniform, and pictures golden boy Stevie in the tiny shorts, and, well.

Yeah, that crush maybe wasn’t as dead as he thought it was. Not like it matters, because as he’s heard over and over from Dustin, Steve Harrington is long gone and never coming back.

Still, Robin and Eddie are attached at the hip almost immediately. It’s pretty monumental, finding someone else who gets you in a way no one else ever has, in this small town in the middle of nowhere.

(And it’s monumental too, when Robin takes Eddie to the evening group at the Carnation Inn, the one for people like them, and like the Inn’s owners, who want to give them somewhere they can be safe and themselves, and Eddie finally gets to see that all that crap about highschool being the best time of your life? Absolute bullshit. There is a whole world out there waiting, ready with open arms, and god, he can’t wait to get to it.) 

Robin won’t go to Hellfire, and Eddie won’t go to pep rallies to watch her play, but they eat lunch together a few times a week when they’re both free. They trade barbs and jokes and shout about their wildly different music tastes (“Madonna, Blondie, Bowie—that’s MUSIC, Eddie!” “If you would just LISTEN TO HOLY DIVER you would UNDERSTAND!”), argue about who has worse fashion sense (Eddie) and taste in crushes (Robin), and shoot each other looks across the cafeteria, when one of those respective crushes sits just a little too close. Robin hangs around him in the woods while he deals, and she’s terrible for business because she literally never shuts up, but it doesn’t matter. Finally, Eddie has a friend who gets him in a way his Coffin members want to but don’t, and that’s worth every lost sale in the world.

(Plus, Robin had gotten them jobs at Family Video after the whole Starcourt disaster, so he’s got enough cash coming in that he doesn’t even really need to be selling anymore, and that’s kind of nice too.)

One day, early spring, head cheerleader Chrissy Cunningham finds them in the woods. She’s nervous and shaky, twitchy and constantly looking over her shoulder. She tries to buy weed, or something stronger, and Eddie and Robin exchange glances and try to calm her down, and then offer to bring her back to Eddie’s trailer after school and get high with her, so she doesn’t have to be alone.

Robin finds her in the bathroom, after their next class, puking her guts up and sobbing in the stall, and holds her hair and rubs her back through it. And Chrissy spills everything, tells Robin about the headaches and the nosebleeds and the nausea and the Jason of it all, and the goddamn lights flicker and Robin jumps into action immediately.

Because, like, first of all, Robin’s pretty sure the nausea isn’t upside down related. Pretty sure that’s a Jason Carver problem (definitely not one that should be solved with a mild acid trip) and that would be big enough on its own, but then lights and the nosebleeds?

Robin and Eddie make a plan: Chrissy can’t be in Hawkins if she’s connected to the Upside Down but doesn’t know it yet. Whatever is going on, whatever’s about to happen (and fuck, did they think they were over this, but apparently not) hits too close to home to the D&D campaign Eddie’s been working on, and even though he still hasn’t managed to figure out that whole part of all of this nonsense, he thinks their best shot is to get Chrissy the fuck out of dodge, just in case it’s another possession situation.

Instead of taking her to the trailer park, they go to the Inn. Otis Harrington clocks the problem immediately, at least, the Jason half of it, and promises Robin and Eddie he can help. He calls his grandson, estranged but still a good kid and around Chrissy’s age, and then he calls his travel agent. And then he drives the three teens to the airport in Indianapolis, and puts Chrissy on a flight. Steve has a good job, an apartment, and the heart to take in someone who has nowhere else to go.

Otis knows she’ll be safe there.

And she is. Steve picks her up at the airport and moves her into his guest room. It takes them time, figuring each other out, but when Chrissy finally comes to terms with what’s going on, Steve isn’t going anywhere. All he ever wanted was six kids and a winnebago, and this one might not technically be his by genetics, but she’s his in everything else that matters. He loves Chrissy too, but like the sister he never had. They cling to each other at night, when the nightmares get too strong, whisper about the things they saw in the dark. They raise a kid, a little girl they name Vanessa but call Ness, because she was a little monster as a baby and sometimes nicknames just stick.

Steve is happy with his little family. Still works for his dad. Keeps his head down. But he calls Otis every month, now, never talking about the reason why Richard broke contact. Never crossing a line that becomes a wall around a tough time, instead forging ahead with a new relationship, careful and precious, but only ever in the periphery.

Robin and Eddie make it back to Hawkins, and they don’t realize they’ve saved two lives. But they’re on alert, more prepared when they find Fred Benson’s broken body halfway between the school and the trailer park, and they jump into the action again, barely stopping to look back.

Code Red, baby, they know the drill.

Jason Carver, now missing his girlfriend, starts a witch hunt. Another kid on the team saw Chrissy getting into Eddie’s van, the day she disappeared, and he tries to convince the town Eddie’s behind it. But Robin was there too, and she has some social standing, and Otis has his own connections to the Sherriff’s department, and eventually Jason is the only one riled up to try to do anything about it.

One boy isn’t nearly as scary as a whole gang of them.

Without Steve, with Eddie more involved, without the feral gang of basketball players, some things go better and some things go worse. Eddie has more ideas about how to defeat Vecna, because he isn’t traumatized, and he knows the song and dance a bit. Lucas swims down to the gate with Eddie and Robin and Nancy, because he has the best lungs. He comes out scarred (physically and mentally) but mostly alright. 

In the second half of the plan, Jason still shows up at the Creel house, still tries to kill Lucas, but Erica manages a rescue call and Dustin scrambles in as back up with a second boombox just in time. They save Max somewhere between her losing her sight and dying.

Eddie sets up a tape, as a distraction, because he needs to stay with Robin to fight Vecna.

It works pretty damn well.

But Vecna has a bit more time, this time. Max has her tapes, and Lucas is pretty safe in himself even after his brush with death, but Jason is an easy target now, paranoid and desperate. Vecna snaps him like a twig, and then Nancy starts hearing chimes too. Still, Robin and Eddie and Nancy make it to the Creel house, and Nancy and Jason were enough of a distraction to buy El enough time, and this time: they win.

They crawl out of hell, closer still, clinging to each other. Max has a long road to recovery but she’s always been a stubborn fighter.

Nancy signs them all up for therapy, and no one knows how to say no to her, and they all won’t admit it but thank fucking god for therapy.

And then things, slowly, go back to normal. Eddie settles down to work for Wayne’s new home improvement company and builds himself a cottage on the shore of Lover's Lake, so he can keep an eye out for anything suspicious. He'd wanted to see the world, but now he can't imagine being anywhere but here. Someone has to stand sentry, and he knows it has to be him.

Robin tries to leave for school but the nightmares keep her up and the thought of being away from her family hurts too much and it’s not long before she’s back in Hawkins, apprenticing with a local electrician before taking up with Eddie and Wayne. Eddie doesn't say it much, but she comes back just as the kids are planning to all leave, and he's never been more relieved to not have to be alone in his life.

Everything settles down, for the next ten years.

Until Steve inherits the Carnation Inn, and finds himself back in the place he knows he never should have left.

That’s where our story starts and the rest, as they say, is history.

[safely-in-vhagars-belly]

Deliciously dark! Aemond x oc (Snow falls, chapter 6: The fox and the dragon

CONCEPT: You are Willa Wyldewoods, daughter of the second biggest house in the North. After your father refused to bend the knee and to marry you to Aemond, Aemond killed your family himself and took your home and you for himself. You escaped yesterday and he did not like that all. So he's punishing you.

WARNINGS; NONCON dubcon Punishment, not feeding someone, smut, throat fucking, fucking, begging, himulation, dark!aemond, dom/sub themes and spankings as well as other dark themes. Not so feministic Aemond either. Mention of dead family members, mentions of a*ss f*cking oral sex, - Aemond is just messed up and so mc for secretly liking all the pain he gives her. They both need therapy, hope this helps.

TAGLIST IS OPEN. (it always is, i just forget to mention i do them sometimes lol)

Sign up if you dare though do mind the triggers/warnings.

You sit in the bedroom, after dinner. Aemond had his share of good food and your tummy rumbles. You know he isn't done with you yet. He will likely have you to assure you are tamed.

He touches your chin gently. You already silently cry. 'Now, now. I am gentle, am I not? I thought you liked it gentle.' He says mockingly. You swallow and don't even respond.

He chuckles. 'Take off my clothes for me.' He says before dropping himself in the chair by the fireplace.

You take off his coat for him, feeling your cheeks burn with shame. You hate that you let him decide everything. But it's better than punishment. You are a coward. 'Or I'll whip you.' He adds when you slow down.

Your body freezes and you gawk at him in shock your mouth hanging open. He gets up from the chair and faces you. You cower without intent. 'You think I'm not serious?' He asks. You aren't sure. He tattooed you. He spanked you. What is stopping him from whipping you? You still think he maybe prefers doing the punishment himself.

You also think but would never allow yourself to say: That you didn't deserve it. He scoffs. 'You think you don't deserve it perhaps? Well, you did. You ran away and made me look like a fool. I don't appreciate it from my family, I don't appreciate it from my enemies and I especially don't appreciate it from my common cock sucking whore!' He shouts at you and you don't like it. You hate it even more than his insults. You are scared that he'll become aggressive.

You burst into tears. 'I'm so sorry!' You quickly blurt it out. You try to convince him and yourself. If he doesn't believe it'll just make things worse.

He doesn't believe you. 'No, you're not. I just know you'll do it again, you disgusting rat. Scurry off the second I turn my back on you.' He groans and grabs your hands.

He drags you closer and slaps your behind painfully. He smiles when you grunt in pain. He leans in and touches your dark hair. 'I gave you an order, didn't I? Get to it.' You already took off his coat for him, so you get to work on his vest next. It's a complicated design with multiple silver pins. You quickly shove the fabric out of the pin and open his vest that way, slowly exposing more of his linen shirt that's underneath it.

You softly feel the abs beyond it and feel every curve of his body. Your mind goes to the wrong places and you are distracted. 'Faster.' He groans.

You get back to undressing him, ripping his vest off him. 'Please...' You beg when he grabs you by your hair. 'I'm so sorry. I'm sorry I ran. I shouldn't have. Please don't hurt me. I'm so scared. Please.'

He drags you to the bed. He rolls you on your belly and pins you down. You don't feel him spread your legs and sigh in relief. You are wet nonetheless. You don't want to be.

'You are difficult today.' He says disapprovingly. You hear him undo his pants himself. You adjust to the bed and turn off your thoughts. 'Cunt bare, I want to fuck you.' He groans. You obey.

You look at your husband, still wearing pants. You are confused. But then you see it. His belt is in one of his hands. You gulp and shake your head scared and scurry away. He grins and grabs your legs dragging you back. You know he lied. He wanted you to strip so he could easily hit you.

The moment the cold metal hits your naked body you cry out like a little pig that's being slaughtered. You pull away from him screaming and sobbing. He grins before turning you on your back this time and spreads your legs.

He wants to do dark things. Darker than you imagined. 'I want to make myself clear.' The Cold leather belt is briefly pulled over your exposed lady parts. You whimper in fear. Scared he will whip you there. It'll be more painful.

You are quick to beg for his mercy. You are scared and have endured enough abuse already. 'You are clear, husband. I learned. I will obey now.' You promise shaking in fear. He let his fingers touch you and he pushes them inside you. He pulls in deeply and starts to touch you. You like it very much but you don't know if it's for you to like.

You softly buck your hips against his fingers chasing your pleasure. It's nice to have a distraction. He smiles when you buck and fucks you a little rougher and deeper with his fingers. You softly grunt. 'Argh.'

He removes his fingers. You are confused. You liked it. He whips and you scream when the belt hits your sensitive clit. You cry out and tears burst from your eyes.

'Take it off. Now.' He groans referring to his clothes again. 'Or I will fuck you in your ass with some parts of your dead family members. Take it off Now!' He yells in your ear. You take off his pants for him like his servant. You are once again meeting with his impressive length and just choose to ignore it for now.

You also take off his shoes for him and his socks. You bow your head when you are finished. 'Good girl. Get on your knees for me.' You obey him, shaking like a leaf in the wind.

He enjoys you scared. You assume he wants to have you. You turn your entrance towards him. He takes a few locks of your hair and pulls so that you are facing him again. 'Open wide and let's test that naughty little mouth of yours. You'll suck me off, slut. And you'll do your best or you know what will happen to your cunny and your ass.' You want to cry that you're not a slut but you don't want trouble. You never sucked anyone before.

'M-my family-' you can't finish that sentence.

He chuckles softly. 'No, sweetling. I will fuck you myself. I will spread you out on the desk like a meal and I will feast upon you until I have no seed left and am just fucking my balls sore on your body.' It sounds painful. Embarrassing and shameful. It sounds like cruelty and abuse. You don't like the sound of that at all.

'Wha..What if...' You think of a way to get out of the punishment. 'I'm wet.' You confess softly. 'Very wet.'

He just raises a brow. 'I am well aware.' He says carelessly.

You are confused. 'Don't you wish to have me?' You ask.

He sighs annoyed. 'No, little slut. I gave you a task. Obey me and I might let you finish.' Your head is pushed down. You gave a soft nod and crawl closer to him, opening your mouth and taking in the big swollen length. You quickly shove it in your mouth and start sucking sloppily and quickly eager to finish him off so he can get out again.

He grins before slapping your behind. 'I prefer quality over quantity, little slut. Easy and thorough or I will give your pretty face a nice layer of cum.' He threatens. You'd hate that.

You take him out for a brief moment. 'What am I supposed to do? I never did this before.'

'Just suck me, you'll learn best if you just do it.' He groans before shoving himself back in.

You realise it's not for you to like. It's for Aemonds pleasure. He will come because of this. Not you. Once you realise that; it becomes very easy for you. You watch and judge his reactions of gently licking, softly rubbing him with your tongue and even giving little soft pushes.

He enjoys you being gentle and careful. You hear him groan when you softly rub him. You make eye contact and he closes his eyes, tightening his grip on your shoulders. You are surprised. As well as when a soft new strange salt taste fills your mouth.

'Make me come, whore.' He growls with his voice even lower than usual. You try your best to make him come by gentle licking but it's not working. You understand you need to do a new technique. You force your mouth around his length and just try to suck it. Your tongue glides over his head and he shudders in pleasure. 'That's it, little bitch. Make your owner come.' He groans before spanking you. You yelp but the cock blocks most of the sound. You repeat what you did, licking him faster and faster and making eye contact.

Your shoulders are grabbed and you are pushed into his body. He rolls his hips eagerly against your mouth and fucks it. You are caught off guard but continue sucking. He chuckles. 'O, yes...' You Growl a bit and finally force the cock deeper into your mouth before letting your lips rub his length. He shudders and groans before pulling out. You sigh relieved.

Your chin is grabbed roughly and you see the cock aimed at your face. Before you realise what has happened he injects himself into your face with a grunt. You gawk at him, blushing and wet and now dirty too.

You whimper. He grins before cleaning the corners of your mouth. There is a white substance on his fingertip. You look at it curiously.

'Suck it off.' He says. You take his hand and force his finger down your mouth gently sucking it clean. He chuckles.

'Did I do well?' You ask when you are finished. You want to know if he is pleased. More important: you want relief.

He is back to being his ordinary hating self. 'What do you expect a compliment for every basic command?' You ignore that jab.

You grab his hand. 'You promised me something, remember?' And that he did. He promised you'd come. You already picture yourself, face down on the pillows getting fucked from behind by him when he holds you firmly.

Aemond laughs. 'Oh yes. I'd promised you you'd get to come.' He says, before slowly touching your breasts. They are eager for his touch. Already hard. He notices and smiles.

'Y-Yes.' You stutter blushing and confused.

You are pushed to him and end up on your back. Your legs are parted gently by him and he softly sinks a finger in your hot and wet cunt as he likes to call it. 'Let me feel...'

'Hmm.' He smacks his lips before speaking and stimulates you at the right moment. You buck eagerly and want him to just fuck you. You feel powerless at his mercy with his hand fucking you. His fingers grab and rub you in a good way. It would not be as good as his cock. You had it a few times and you know you'd prefer lying down and getting stuff until you can't walk any day.

You can't believe what you're thinking. This man is a murderer. This man hurt you. And you are so wet for him. 'You've been a naughty wife. I don't like rewarding naughty pets.' He says thoughtfully when you give a little cry of pleasure.

You touch yourself. He slaps your hand and pulls you up. You let out a little yelp when he throws you over his shoulder.

'Where are we going?' You ask scared.

He grins. 'The hallway, I want every servant to hear your cries when I make you come, little slut. I want everyone to know who owns you now.' He says with a chuckle. You feel insulted but he touches you and you are reminded of your desire.

You are pushed on the dirty floor and exhale some dust on accident. You cough. Aemond pushes you onto your knees again and you eagerly await for him to fuck you on the wood in the dirt. He scoffs at you. 'Look at you. So much for the Lady Wyldewoods. Admit you're my whore now and I swear to the gods that I fuck your little cunt until it bleeds.' You don't want to. You really don't want to.

'I...' You can't say it. He grins rubs you up and stimulates you. Touches you gently. Lovingly. He looks at you like you can trust him.

You close your eyes. 'I am your whore.' You softly mutter. Your chin is grabbed and you feel a soft slap in your face as a warning.

He shakes his head clacking his tongue. 'I don't approve of that. Again, name me and louder.' You understand what he wants to hear.

You feel an extra finger enter and you gasp softly. 'I am your whore, Aemond Targaryen.' You say speaking regularly but panting a bit.

He growls giving another slap. 'Much louder.' He growls.

He is in with 3 fingers now. You cry out and buck eagerly. 'I am your whore, Aemond Targaryen!'

He chuckles in pleasure as your cries echo through the hall and are heard by everyone in the castle. 'Exactly. Don't you ever fucking dare to forget it, slut.' You are grabbed and your legs are spread. You feel a soft something touch your cunt. You feel it enter you and you hear the sound of Aemond very close to you.

He is licking you there. Gently sucking your pussy. You let out a gentle groan and touch his hair approvingly. You turn and twist when finding a comfortable position. You just want his tongue to go faster. 'You taste good.' He says when he just takes a quick break.

'Thank you, Husband.' You say politely. You assume he'd go back to sucking you but he is done.

'Now...' He says rubbing his hands.

You chuckle. 'How do we exactly do this?'

You are grabbed and pushed against the glass of the hall. Everyone downstairs can see you. You are thankful there are no visitors. 'I'm going to fuck your little cunt here, and you'll do best to obey and serve me.' You hate it but you'd love to serve him.

You give a soft nod. 'Yes, my Prince.' You say. He chuckles at that and shoves himself up your cunt with his cock. You are impaled and softly pressed against the cold glass. You hear your husband growl and you are hit on your ass again.

He has a hard grip and you don't like it at first. He sinks in deep and your breath causes the window to fog. You eagerly cry for his touch and buck back having sex with him for the very first time. It is your fourth time laying with him but the other times weren't as good as this. You finally understand why everyone enjoys sex so much. It's really really good.

Aemond fucks you rough and hard against the window and you let him, letting yourself get scolded, slapped and dragged by the hair.

It's the best sex you ever had from him. He slaps you across your face but you like it this time. He let his finger in your mouth and you suck it gently. 'Come, study time.' He says a bit hoarse taking you with him to the bedroom.

You are bent on the desk there.. Your legs dangle and are pushed aside. Your eyes land on your husband. You feel a rough shove and cry a little bit. 'I think you'll like being my whore.' He says, when he is busy making himself erect again by rubbing himself with your fingers. You like how sticky they get once there's cum on them. You'd like to taste it and to suck them clean.

'Your cunt wouldn't be so wet if you didn't like the way I handle you.' He continues. You are than fucked and you gasp for air. It hurts much more on the desk but you have far less a say in it than on the bed. You feel trapped and under his control. You like it. You turn off your brain and bow your head submissive and just let him have you when you cry in pleasure or cry out for the gods.

'They won't help you, little slut. You're at my mercy now. You wanted this, remember?' You do. 'I'll fuck you and I decide when I am done. No gods will stop me from having my wife.' You like that he calls you that. He sounds so possessive of you. But also something else....proud.

You yearn for some pressure. 'Please...' You beg. 'Can you perhaps uhm...Hit me?' You whisper.

He seems surprised by that request but comes over very rapid. You quickly add. 'Just my ass. Keep my face pretty.'

'Of course, sweetling. Bend for me.' He says and you obey. He spanks you and you feel the pleasure return. You never knew you liked it but you guess it was always there. Whenever he got a little rough with you, you enjoyed it. Except for when he punched your face and tattooed you against your will.

'You're such a naughty whore.' 'Yes, my Prince.' You agree with him. You'll probably hate yourself tomorrow. But now...it feels good. Nice and right.

'Yes, what?' He asks stopping the spankings just a moment. His hands are still On your ass.

'Yes, I am a naughty whore.' You say, close.

'And?' He asks raising a brow. 'I deserve to have my cunt stuffed.' You cheekily say but loud enough for him to hear. He stops touching you and you think for a moment he has left.

Until you are pushed down over the desk and you end up on your belly. You see his face again as he grabs your legs and forces them around his hips. You are forced Against his body and roughly fucked. You cry out in pleasure.

'Hm.' He groans enjoying himself as well. You are close. You beg him with your eyes. He enters your body and you are hit with brief waves of pleasure that hit like a slap across your face. You roll back on the desk and growl and cry and moan. You enjoy being used by him. Grabbed time after time and used.

He forces you on the desk once more and shoves himself inside you. You moan in approval. You are close. 'I'm going to make you come, but you'll scream my name. That's what I demand for this pleasure.' He says strictly. You give a nod. If he told you he'd take your eye you are sure you'd let him do it at that point.

He starts to move and you feel his body press down on yours. You gently exhale and prepare. A small little pleasure wave hits you. Then another. Another. Another. You cry out a bit and beg him. He grins. 'Just the beginning, I'm going to make you sob.' He promises you before rolling his hips firmly and more aggressive. You are fucked like a whore but you don't mind. He takes out all his aggression and hate on you and you welcome it. You enjoy the pain and the pleasure waves become intenser and you smell yourself and him after some time. You are very close. You feel it. He enters slowly and rolls his hips before fucking you in one hard rough go using his strength to hold you down. Your body erupts and you release an animalistic scream of his name. He grins when you do that and speeds up fucking your recently wetted cunt. He suddenly catches his breath and comes inside you this time. You catch your breath too.

He grabs you from the desk and takes you back to the bed. He puts you on the bed. 'Good girl, but I'm still very mad at you for disobeying me.'

'Is that what it's like every time?' You ask like a stupid little girl. He grins before leaning in.

'If I am pleased, it can be like that every time. And more.' You turn to your side and fall asleep with him close to your body.

[masterwords]

break another little bit of my heart now

Summary: Hotch & Jess in college...I guess? Hotch's dad is dying, and he's being sucked in to helping his mom out with preparation.

Pairing: none

Warnings: a lot of talk about death & some mentions of abuse

Words: 4.6k

Notes: Set in the same universe as We Shall Be Monsters, Emotion Sickness, How It Feels to have a Heartbeat and Hold Out the Palm of Your Hand...I'll probably create a landing page to pull all of these together when I stop being lazy.

**

“His name is Gerald,” she said quietly, rifling through her small purse for what he presumed was a business card. His feet were cold and he wiggled his toes inside of his shoes, delighting in the memory of his morning spent trudging around through icy thick mud at the bank of the creek. Their little sanctuary. Barefoot, he and Sean laughed and whined about the cold mud slurping up between their toes, but never once thought that putting back on socks and shoes would be an appropriate fix. No, they needed that mud.

Their father was dying, that they both knew though in very different ways. And they cared differently, too. Sean was ten and his understanding of the finality of death was shaky at best, but he was sad and needed a distraction from a weight far too heavy for his young years. He'd been watching their father steadily decline for years. Aaron, on the other hand, felt no sadness for the man's eventual passing, and he hadn't been there to watch most of it. The way he wasted away, the way he changed from a man whose shadow features and pinched scowl were mean enough to melt paint off of a brand new car...the man who used his fists more than his words...no, Aaron wasn't going to be sad. Except for Sean.

“I found a butt!” Sean shouted, and Aaron leapt up from his perch on a large rounded boulder and felt his feet sink deep into the squelchy muck. He ran for Sean, forgetting momentarily his nearly twenty-one years and reverting back to a youthful pleasure at finding the remnants of crawfish shells and interesting rocks. Aaron was finding more rusted out sharp-edged bottle caps, beer bottles and soda bottles alike. New and old. Treasures.

“Gerald, got it,” he said, returning from his reverie reluctantly when she nudged the business card into his hand. Zip went his boyhood, disappeared, turned to dust. Now he stood, a young man about to meet with an attorney to go over his father's will, his plans for the family's future, things he had no vested interest in any longer.

“Don't be late. He's expecting you in ten minutes.”

He was late, on purpose. Let his mother pay for the extra few minutes of time, he needed to walk, to get his head straight. That Mercedes in the parking lot, so out of place among rusted old pick-up trucks and barely chained bicycles had to belong to him, and inside he managed to pick out the attorney without any trouble. There was Merle and Wilma, seated in their usual corner (same place they'd been seated for the same Saturday lunch for the last thirty years) and there was Roy Brooks playing dice with Stuart Mason. He nodded to them, received the customary condolence nod back...the whole town knew that his father wasn't long for the world.

“Aaron Hotchner, I presume?” The lawyer stood and shook his arm free of his burnt orange sport coat, the over-sized Rolex on his arm catching on the material. Aaron shook his hand quickly, an impressive pump, a man's shake. His father taught him some things. “Have a seat. I already ordered...” That statement, pointed as it was, Aaron let roll right off of his shoulders. Yes, you've ordered because I was late, but see...I just don't give a fuck. That's what he would like to have said, but he smiled a little sheepishly and nodded.

And then he apologized for his tardiness. Like a coward, he told himself. Like a damn coward.

Aaron had known the owners of this diner his whole life. His grandfather brought him here every Sunday morning for coffee and donuts (or, hot chocolate in a coffee mug when he was too small for coffee), so he was never given the opportunity to order. Darcy brought him out a peanut butter milkshake and a hamburger with a huge pickle right alongside Gerald's full plate of bacon and eggs and hashbrowns covered in thick, yellow hollandaise. The richness of it turned Aaron's stomach. He'd never been one for that kind of heavy food, it never sat well.

“Your father's will is pretty straightforward, there shouldn't be any issue with execution...when the time comes...” Gerald faltered, and Aaron cringed knowing what came next. The backtrack, the sympathetic show of support. “I'm very sorry about all of this. Martin has been a good friend for a long time. I remember, we were on a course down in Palm Springs when he told me that Grace was pregnant. Never saw him so happy.”

Aaron tried to force a look that would read as anything other than pure confusion, but he barely managed just this side of distress. Gerald didn't seem to notice though, he'd said his piece and now it was back to business.

“Pretty cut and dry. Your mother gets the estate, of course, aside from the few specific items he's willed to others. Your brother Sean will receive the Cadillac, for instance. And let me see if I can...oh...” he paused on the second page and Aaron thought his skin turned just the slightest shade of gray. He could almost predict the next words. “There are a few discrepancies here I'll need to speak to your mother about.”

“He cut me out,” Aaron offered, stirring the milkshake with the absurdly long spoon. “You don't need to hide it. He told me he would.”

Gerald frowned. “Why would he...”

“I assume it was because I chose to attend George Washington University instead of going to Georgetown, but who knows. It could be that he doesn't care for my haircut, or perhaps he's simply telling me for the last time that he's only got one son.”

The conversation stalled there, and Aaron finished his meal in thoughtful silence while Gerald poured over the remainder of the will with a puzzled look on his face. “I'll need to speak with your mother before we proceed.”

“My bus leaves in two hours, I really should go get packed. Are we finished here?”

That was it, he had nothing more to say. Darcy refused his money, the way he walked toward her was haunting and eerie in its sublime quiet. No way that meeting went well, she knew by the way his shoulders slouched though he tried to hide it. He wanted desperately not to be disappointed in his father, not to disappoint his father...for some reason he still sought his approval...and the time was near enough now that he'd have to call it on that forever. There could be no hope of redemption for them.

“Thank you, Mrs. Emerson,” he said when shook her head and pushed his cash right back at him. “It was great as always.”

“Bless you, boy. Come see me next time you're in town, okay?”

“Yes, ma'am.”

(x)

“Where the hell were you this weekend?!”

Jessica was standing there in the middle of his apartment with her hand on her hip, her blonde curls unruly and thrown up on top of her head. Aaron stopped dead in his tracks, stricken, his eyes flickering wildly toward the clock posted on the otherwise barren wall. It was a clean focal point in the midst of his confusion.

“What...why are you here?”

The apartment was chilly, a window thrown open even though it was a blustery windy fall day. He would rather have had the heater going full blast. The card table that he and his roommate were using as a sort of makeshift dining room table was taken over by a huge, messy game of Risk. He couldn't seem to sort out the scene, make it make sense.

“I called you three times on Friday, left you messages on your machine...” Long, rambling, urgent messages she implied but didn't say aloud. Some things were better left unsaid between them.

“Okay, well lets operate under the assumption that I never got those messages. Enlighten me.” He was, perhaps, a little shorter with her than he intended but he was feeling a little out of sorts. His weekend had been less than ideal, definitely a far cry from relaxing. The diner visit was one of the more pleasant bits, looking back. At least he'd had a peanut butter shake.

She only made that little irritated puffing noise and flopped down on the couch. His couch. In the kitchen he could hear his roommate Dale tapping away on the counter, probably chopping something...god, he thought bitterly, if Jessica and Dale were sleeping together he might have to move out.

“A pipe burst in my building. A wave of shit water filled the whole basement, bio-hazard central. It's shit show. Literally.” She smiled, and eagerly awaited his. He didn't feel much like smiling but it was kind of funny so she managed to get a little smirk out of him. It was good enough. “Anyway. They kicked us all out for a week...you really didn't get my messages? I need a place to crash.”

“I told her she could stay!” Dale chirped from the kitchen over the new sound of sizzling. The apartment smelled like mushrooms and onions. Dale was a pretty incredible cook, and Aaron benefited greatly from this talent. “Hope you don't mind.”

Aaron groaned but shrugged. “It's fine. You've been in my bed, I presume?”

She barked out a laugh and he heard Dale chime in from the kitchen. “Well if you're implying I might have slept in Dale's bed...”

“That's a big fat negatory, soldier.”

“I'll move to the couch. No problemo.”

“No, the couch is fine for me. It's only a few days.” Aaron realized he hadn't moved, the door was still open, he was still standing there like he didn't live there. Slowly he eased it shut behind him and folded his arms over his chest to stave off the chill of the place. “I would appreciate it if we could have the windows closed though.”

“You're such a wuss. Maybe if you ate some of this stuff Dale cooks sometimes you'd put some meat on your bones.”

“It's not even that bad!” Dale shouted, and Aaron groaned. They were going to gang up on him all week, that much was clear. They might not be sleeping together but they clearly shared one overworked brain cell. “It makes the place smell less like dirty socks.”

“If you did your laundry more than once a month, that might help the dirty sock smell,” Aaron grunted with a smirk, doing his best to shake off the filthy feeling of the last weekend. The way it made his soul ache. Jessica let out more laughs and pulled the blanket from the back of the couch, beckoning to him, begging him to sit down beside her. He did so only because the blanket was enticing.

“So,” she said quieter, maybe so Dale couldn't hear on purpose. “Wanna tell me where you were this weekend?”

“No,” he replied even softer than her voice, pulling the blanket tight around his shoulders and curling his long legs up beneath him. “I've got an hour to try and catch a little shut eye before my first class and I'd like to take advantage.”

“Okay. Okay...how about we go to lunch? You can tell me in the safety of our booth.” The booth, where secrets could be shared over plates of food. It was almost sacred.

He smiled and let his tired eyes drift shut. “Sure. But you're buying. I'm broke until Thursday...” He wasn't, not really, but the money in his account was money he refused to touch. Especially now.

(x)

“We'll start with a pot of tea and two huge bowls of hot and sour soup...” Jess said, already so in the habit of ordering for him that she didn't even ask. Truthfully, they'd moved into their apartments and found the restaurant that was the absolute closest to center for them to reach...and that was that. Chan's Dragon Inn, all decked out in jade tschotchkes and red vinyl seats and gold flecked everything. It was gaudy, and old, had a cigarette vending machine in the back hallway that was dimly lit, more like wandering through a carpeted cave that smelled like old ash toward the bar they weren't old enough to enter. Yet. Not that they couldn't have...this was the sort of establishment that might not care terribly much. Aaron liked the vending machine, though he rarely smoked. He liked to keep a pack on him when he felt too cold, when Jess hauled him to some concert he didn't want to be at or a movie he had no interest in seeing, it gave him an excuse to walk outside and have a few minutes to himself. It reminded him of Haley and Max and theater productions and as much as he hated the way it made his mouth dry and taste like rot, the way it hurt his lungs, he kept it up in small ways. When the future felt too big and he needed a little hug from the past.

“Okay. Give it to me. Where'd you spend your weekend?”

“Can we eat first?”

“Absolutely not. You went home to see Haley, didn't you?”

He chuckled and shook his head. She couldn't have been further from the truth. “No, I didn't. She's seeing Mark now, she called and told me that two weeks ago. It's fine. I'm okay with that.”

She made that irritated puffing noise again and bit into an egg roll that was definitely still too hot to eat. She gasped and made the sounds of desperation, her tongue now summarily burned, but gulped it down and tried to smile. “She's gonna marry you though.”

“That's still not where I went, so it really doesn't matter.”

“Okay, so you didn't go see Haley. Thennnnnnnnnn...you....” She had nothing left. Nothing she wanted to add anyway.

“You're so nosy,” he said quietly, defeated. “I went to help my mother with Sean.”

She rolled her eyes. It was an enormous, intensely dramatic display and he almost laughed out the spoonful of hot soup he'd just eaten. Nearly choked on a mushroom and gulped desperately while she responded. “She doesn't need your help with Sean. He's 10. By the time he was six he was practically babysitting me when I would come over.”

“Yes, under normal circumstances I'd agree...but our father went into the hospital this weekend. It sounds like he hasn't got much time left, she's already making hospice arrangements.”

Jessica briefly looked stricken, older under the harsh pendulum light dangling precariously over their table. Her eyes went wide and she seemed to be searching his own shadow features for a reaction, how he felt, how he was taking it. But how was he taking it? Well, right now, he simply wasn't. It hadn't even registered. Going home was simply a job. He made fifty dollars for staying at the house and writing essays while Sean did Sean things. Sometimes he even joined in the Sean things. He'd enjoyed their walk to the creek, the way the freezing water felt like it was burning his bare skin.

“Yeah, and she's also popping a ton of fucking pills...probably your dad's...and putting it all on you. Did you really drive all the way back there just to watch your brother for a weekend so your mom could go on a benzo vacation?”

He couldn't look at her, not directly. Not even a little. “I didn't see her for more than a few minutes, I don't know Jess. And I took the bus, if you must know. She bought me a round trip ticket. Made sure I got in after she was out of the house and left before she got back. I saw her long enough for her to hand me a lawyer's business card.”

With a mouthful of food, Jessica groaned. “Grace Hotchner, mother of the goddamn year. And then there's Martin, good ol Marty, why he's a regular old Mike Brady.”

The rest of their food arrived without them ever asking for it, and Jessica batted her eyelashes, winked at the waitress and offered a pretty hefty tip at the end if she'd kindly bring them two bloody mary's. If they hadn't been the only people in the dining room, maybe she would have turned them down, but those drinks with their sticks of half-limp and frosted chunks of celery teetering over the top and the mushy sour onion and olive sticks floating inside arrived at the table without any hassle over identification and birth dates. Aaron hated them...he wasn't even sure Jess liked them...but it was what they did. Jess threw a dash of soy sauce in hers and gulped it down like it was a shot, pushing the celery away from her face to open wide. She nibbled on the vegetables happily, sliding the olive and onion artfully off of the little plastic sword with her teeth. Aaron would nurse his until the ice melted and made the overly peppered concoction taste somewhat palatable. He didn't see how adding something other than water would help in the least. He wanted less flavor, not more.

“Jess,” he said, leaning back in his seat, head resting weary and heavy against the vinyl. The vodka was kicking in, quieting his demons a little, relaxing his coiled muscles. “He's going to die.”

“We all die.”

“Don't be a jerk,” was his retort, but he'd already seen it coming. “I mean soon. Maybe this month.”

“Yeah, and maybe he'll live five more years...maybe he'll die before I finish this sentence...I don't really care what happens to him. But I do care about you...”

He didn't open his eyes because then she would have seen the tears there, and he couldn't explain them. He had no idea what they were for. “I know.”

It wasn't just that he was dying, though, and if he dug a little deeper or opened up she would know too. That was too much, too fast. Meeting with the lawyer handling his father's estate had been his one task that had nothing to do with Sean, and it had left him feeling hollowed out. Sitting down in a little diner across from this man who looked like he'd been pulled right out of some mob movie with his burnt orange suit and his shellacked hair, Aaron didn't know what to do with himself. Was this his future in law? Cheesy suits and cheesier hair? The man drove a Mercedes, parked it right in front of the window so he (and everyone else) could stare in awe. The content of their conversation had been distressing in ways he hadn't anticipated, and he couldn't articulate that yet.

“The world isn't going to be any worse off without a man who turns his kid into a punching bag because he can't handle the stress of his life.” Good riddance, she'd essentially said. And when he did die, Aaron knew damn well she'd say those words aloud. She was tiptoeing around them now, but not delicately. He didn't mind it. “That last pile of celery chow-mein is yours. Eat it.”

“Celery chow-mein, celery in the rice, celery in the drink...” he was muttering, a distraction from the wet sound of his voice and the wet feel of his eyes. He liked celery, it was among his favorite foods, he was just...well he was acting this way to avoid crying. “You're trying to give me celery poisoning.”

“That's not a thing. Eat it now so we can go home. You need a nap, and Dale needs his ass kicked out of South America.”

“Yeah, about that...I might have changed my mind about you taking my bed. And my apartment.”

“Nope. No way. No take-backs, buddy.”

They walked back, trotted back, ambled back. Varied speeds for different areas. They always hustled fast past the alleys and across the busy intersections, but when they reached the path through a little park they slowed nearly to a crawl and listened to the trail their feet padded, the crunch of leaves beneath shoes, watched their breath puff white vapor in front of their eyes. She looped her arm in his first, then twisted their fingers and pulled him close. She sort of hated the way he'd weaseled his way into becoming her best friend, in spite of all their arguments. Delicious arguments. But this time she knew she'd crossed a line, and while he'd never tell her, she did feel a little guilty. For better or worse, he was losing his father. She needed to remember that.

“I guess I am a little sorry about your dad...” she admitted into the silent afternoon. He nodded. He hated this more than he hated how blunt and mean she'd been at the restaurant and the tears beat at his eyes again only this time they were icy and hurt. Burned in the wind.

“Don't be. You were right.” He paused, let the sound of footsteps spur on the rest of his voice. “I'm not.” He was lying, perhaps, but it felt like the right thing to say. It felt honest, the rawness of it anyway. Even if the words were a lie, the pure pain in his voice was as honest as it could be.

His father didn't last a week. It wasn't a surprise to anyone, not really. Hospice barely intervened, and his mother was begging and pleading for him to make the trip down. “Take some time off, help me,” she pleaded and it was the last thing he wanted to do. “You simply must make it a priority to say goodbye, Aaron. He's your father.”

But what choice did he have? “I have my Thanksgiving break in a couple of weeks,” he offered, a sort of peaceful middle ground. “I'm not dropping out of my classes to come say goodbye, he doesn't want to see me in his final moments. You and I both know that. But you can make me a list of things to get done while I'm home for break.” She hated it, left him antagonizing messages on his answering machine that Jessica decided were better off deleted before he heard them. She was there an extra two weeks, her building needed more work than originally thought. Dale didn't mind, he loved having someone to play Risk and Dungeons and Dragons and other horrifically nerdy games with, games that Aaron loved to moan about...though his complaint was usually only about the fact that their dining table had been taken over by these games and why did he (who paid a full 50% of the rent) have to eat sitting on the counter or on the floor when he'd bought that table specifically for food?

The night he found out his father had died, he was eating a pile of spaghetti with red sauce from a jar (Jessica's Wednesday night tradition, she may not have been paying any rent but she was cooking for them often and washing their laundry as a thank you) on a paper plate that was getting wet and soggy on the bottom. He watched them go back and forth for territory, calling one another cowards, and ruminated on the news his mother had shared with him. He hadn't said a word aloud, but Jessica seemed to know. The way she looked at him out of the corner of her eye, the way she followed him room to room. Making excuses to watch him, like he might do something. Maybe her worry was well-founded, after the things he'd put her through in the past, but he wasn't sure it was warranted now.

“I hate to be a buzzkill, but I'd like to go to bed,” he announced after hours of them playing. It was well into the night and he had an 8am lecture...he didn't care too much about sleep but he wanted to simply be alone with his thoughts. Jessica looked at him with that strangeness, caution tape invisibly covering her mouth. Dale cleared their game after taking note of where everything should go, a small concession they'd given Aaron when he begged to not have a game covering the table all the time.

“Nite buddy,” he said, and Aaron thought he detected something strange in his voice...like maybe he knew too. They'd figured it out.

Jess sat down on the couch beside him, impeding his ability to pull his blanket up, to lie his body down and stretch out his long long limbs. “Jess,” he whisper-groaned and she shook her head.

“Out with it, Hotchner. What's eating you tonight? You've been quieter than usual. Don't make me guess.”

“He died,” he offered without further prompting. He was too exhausted to play their games. And just like that, like flipping a light switch, the tears fell. A sob caught in his chest, and words failed him entirely but she wrapped her arm around his shoulder and pulled him close to her whispering something over and over in barely words. Ghostly wordlike apparitions, directly to his soul, skipping all other recognition. He knew what she meant without really hearing any of it. “I'd like to be alone.”

“Yeah, yeah...sure...” she said, kissing him on top of the head. Like a mother. Something he hadn't known in far too long. “I um...you know where I am if you need to talk...”

“I'm going to sleep. Thank you though.”

She wandered off slowly, cautiously, affording him one last look before she closed her bedroom door. His bedroom door. Sleeping in the living room came with certain drawbacks, like a lack of privacy, and she'd offered to give him back his bed numerous times over the weeks but he staunchly refused even though the couch was hurting his back and making him walk like an elderly man in the morning. Hunched over, but assuring her he was fine. And he was, mostly. Just the ghost of past injuries that made some things a little more challenging but a nice hot shower or his flannel Snoopy heating pad full of smelly dried corn always set him right.

A hot shower wouldn't fix the pain he was in now. Snoopy couldn't mend it. Physical pain was easier for him to handle, he could fix it or ignore it, but this was a fire burning through him and there was no way to extinguish it. If he thought for a moment about good times with his father...few but they were there...he wept into his pillow until it was soaked and then flipped the side. Then he'd think about all the ways his father dragged him through the pits of hell and he'd cry even harder. Eventually his pillow was a sopping mess and he had no way to sleep on it.

That was when he got up, without even thinking about it, and walked to the bedroom. Walked right to the bed, and even knowing Jess was sleeping, he fell heavy into it and curled around himself. The pillow was dry and that was his only thought until he felt her hand on his back. Silent, sure, she never asked him a single question, just put her hand between his shoulders and ran it up and down the ridges of his spine until his breathing, too rapid, slowed and the choking sounds gave way to deep, solid breaths. Maybe he was asleep, maybe he'd just calmed, she didn't know and she wasn't going to ask. She fell asleep with her hand warm and soft on his neck.

[oldestenemy]

through another lens ch. 10 - an offer of aid

Read the whole fic here <3

“Did you know?” Michael asks as they make their way back down rickety steps into the cave, hoping Marko will continue the streak of actually answering his questions. “That first night—when I drank—was that because of Max?”

Marko looks back over his shoulder, no trace of the usual lightness to his expression. “No.” It’s surprisingly straightforward, “We knew by the bridge, a couple nights later, but you were still meant for Star.”

Meant for—

“She was supposed to kill me.” Michael doesn’t phrase it like a question, though it almost comes out that way. “The night I came back.”

“Yeah, you were the first person she’d taken half an interest in since joining us—and she’s been getting pretty weak the last month or so—David was getting impatient, plus he thought Max’s plan was stupid—and none of us were keen on watching her starve to death. Two birds one stone.”

Michael wonders briefly how long that starvation would take. How much worse Star must feel than he had. How long had she been with the lost boys? Very suddenly he feels like a coward for having given in so easily.

It must be obvious where his mind has gone, because Marko adds: “Don’t beat yourself up about any of it, Star’s got more guts and resolve than all of us combined—and she’s near as stubborn as David. It’s why they get at each others throats so often.”

They’ve returned to a visibly empty hotel lobby. Star and Laddie must be around somewhere—but it sure seems like nobody else is. Marko climbs up into the rafters in a corner where his pigeons—his pigeons? are they his? are pigeons domesticated?—seem to nest.

“Where is David, anyway?” He hadn’t said anything to indicate he was leaving. Though… to be fair it’s possible he needed to hunt after—well, it doesn’t matter. That was probably it.

“Went to see Max, half to suck up and apologize for your attitude earlier, and half to see what the plan is going to be for your mom and brother.” Marko replies, “Max might be willing to tell him now that you’re officially part of the family—” There is a note of obvious disdain in his voice, “—and it would give an idea of how much time we have.”

“Not a lot.” Michael mumbles, “My brother and a couple of his friends have some crackpot idea of going after him in daylight.”

There is a sudden flurry of movement as Marko sends a pigeon out of his hands and drops back to the main level. “They what!”

“I tried to talk him out of it all night—best promise I got was a couple of days.”

~*~

“Star?”

Michael’s found her alone in one of the side rooms, thumbing through what appears to be a journal or a dairy given the handwritten contents. It looks like she’s been crying—shit he isn’t, entirely in a headspace to deal with that. But he made the choice to go looking.

She looks up at him and it’s a little startling to see how much anger there is behind those eyes. “I was hoping you would help us—free us—not fall right in with David and the others.”

Michael can’t help it, he barks out a laugh. “And your bright idea to do that was to fuck me instead of answering any of my questions?”

“And what was I supposed to say!” Star snaps back, “Michael—it was blood and you didn’t listen, Michael I’m supposed to kill you, Michael you’ve got to get out of here and take us as far away as you can! I barely knew anything about how this all worked until last night.”

Silence.

Heavy.

Thick.

He sighs, takes a seat on the sinking mattress beside her.

“Marko told me you’ve been with them a long time.” He says, it’s soft, not entirely question, not statement either.

“Six months.” She replies, snapping the book shut in her lap. “Six months and all it took you was a week and a beach party and—”

“—don’t blame this on me.” Michael says, “Don’t act like I’m the only one at fault here—I didn’t ask for this either—shit Star this might end up getting my family killed—what am I supposed to do about that, huh?”

She just glares at him, even, steady, pissed.

“Besides, we kill Max, you get to be human again.”

“Yeah,” She huffs, “human and dying, great.”

“What d’you mean?”

“Forget it.”

“Star, just—if you want help you have to actually trust people—” These words are almost empty coming from him, he thinks, but there’s nothing else he’s got. He wants to help her, wants to feel like some of this could be alright, could make sense—

But she is getting up to leave and he catches her by the wrist.

“I want to help you,” An echo and a reverse of the words she’d said to him only a few nights ago.

“You can’t.” It’s almost a growl for how she spits it. Christ he’s made a mess of this.

It’s not his fault, he reminds himself. Not all of it anyways…

“I can,” Michael insists, digging his free hand into a pocket and drawing out a knife. “Look—I wouldn’t have done this—wouldn’t have gone through with any of it if I had known—but I did, and that’s something I have to deal with now, but—” she is staring wide eyed now, anger gone and eyes locked on the knife, still folded up in his palm. “—blood will help you, I don’t, I don’t know how this shit works but it’s probably still mostly human in me anyways—” He is rambling, this happens every goddamn time he tries to talk to her or David for more than a few minutes. It doesn’t help that he barely understands half the shit he’s trying to say.

But maybe that’s alright.

Maybe this will be enough.

[volatileimpulisivenightmare]

That's pretty funny after 2 years of endlessly pleading set up another Facebook account

I finally decide, I might as well find out what it is they are so desperate for me to see, and it turned out to be nothing but the repetition of the same pointless nonsense

I'm really sorry kids,

I just don't respond to criticism or peer pressure

I have never cared

NEVER

About what anybody said

What they thought what they felt

They are absolutely welcome to it, but it's not going to influence how I see

Or how I feel

I don't need anybody's agreement approval acceptance understanding

Appreciation acknowledgment and even a couple words that don't start with A.

What I'm supposed to care some girl wasn't interested?

Yeah that's not going to happen

LOL

She was very obvious in what she was doing and what her intentions were

That wasn't hard to figure out at all

Why,

That took a little bit

I wouldn't feel compelled to walk back a single thing I said

I think she's a very unique individual

But your belief that her interest would be some kind of sore spot or concern ignores the fact that I told her and anybody who is listening

That she would be the last one

And I would find out what it was about and who started

Suicidal?

Over what exactly lol

when people behave excessively hostile and cruel

It's not difficult to figure out their intent is to bring you low

So I gave it to you, lol it's hilarious that you would buy into your own stupid crap and believe not only that I was suicidal but that I was desperately in love

She was my only lead

So I hit that drum day in Day out, and wouldn't you know?

Some guy I had to talk to you in 5 years pops up in her emails and social media accounts telling me

Come on buddy it's going to be okay lol

Oh I know

It's never not been okay

I just needed more Intel

Oh and you can suck the shit out of my ass regarding the idea any of your bitch ass mother fucking f*@t friends

Where ever in a position to judge or criticize me regarding anything

Let me get this straight? Me wanting to gang bang baby results in the consequence of one of you bitch motherfuckers doing that to me LOL

Well then let me reemphasize I want to gangbang her every night for the rest of her life now what bitch now a punk

Lol

Step up I dare anyone of you punk mother fuckers to step up I will beat the living shit out of you

I'll put you in a skirt sucking dick on Long Beach boulevard for my beer money lol

Things are going to progress a little bit faster now we got a rat willing to point the finger

And guess what it's no one not a single friend or family member of mine as you spent endless hours trying to suggest which was stupid to begin with because I know these people

And they all Adore me

Not only can you not duplicate their individuality you can't even substantiate a reason why any of them would be upset

Lol

In fact if it wasn't for Salem taking an active first hand rolls

I'm not sure I would have even noticed

I offered The narrative of my life story , for two reasons

Number one I had to keep the pressure constant, so I had to write about something

And two being needlessly hateful hostel includes easy to do to people that you don't know and have no connection with

So filling in all the blanks with relatable challenges and circumstances

Was a lesson that appeared to be needing to be taught

Because it is very easy to transgress random strangers who you know nothing about

But when you get to know people and their lives and their hardships and their struggles

Even people you don't like

It becomes a different matter

And you really should recognize the fact that there is no manipulation of the circumstance that's going to buy anybody any leniency

I know exactly who established the intent and it was never anything other than an effort to be hateful and spiteful

In the face of getting caught obviously being the coward that he is everything is going to suddenly become oh no no no it was just part of this wonderful effort to help you in some way bullshit story

But that's not at all what anybody did

And we got a rat, lol pointing the finger at the pedophile

And get this

Under no circumstances whatsoever do I let him slide

No matter what anybody says no matter what anybody does no matter what anybody thinks no matter what anybody pleads

He lied to my wife to break up our family in spite and jealousy

Then he insisted that my ex had molested my son based on his behavior, knowing that

Without some other explanation for his sudden personality change

That I would most likely repeat what he had said

Creating more friction between my son's mother and I

Then he asked me to look up adult clips on his laptop and shared the genres of his interest only to turn around and suggest that an algorithm

Embedded in a Google products apparently identified the searches coming from the laptop apps child predators

At the same time he repeatedly indicated in interest in having sex with 10 year old girls imagining where he honest and open that I would Express agreement or a similar interest

That never happened

But he leveled the allegation

Anyways

He called the police and reported a prowler as I left his home one evening

With the intention of having me arrested

And suggested I should take the child pornography images that he sent me to the police to report it and when I called the police they said not to do that that if I showed up with that kind of illegal media in my phone that I would be arrested for possession

Which was what was obviously hoped for

That along with being defrauded for almost $100,000 and two cars

There is fix to the situation.

He and all his friends are getting a dime upstate

No new place for anybody to be anything

Just a 10-year sentence after losing the civil case

Really

Truly and honestly don't care

Who else or why or what motivated it I only care

That someone who has been nothing but a burden since the day we met

Would imagine to get away with attacking me

After I cut him out of my life for the second time

No family member no friend no son no ex no group of friends nothing will enough to stop me from hammering this fool

No it was a lie

And it was none of his business

But I'm actually glad in the sense that we weren't very compatible but that's not why he did it you did it just to try and fuck me over

Hes either going to prison or into a coma

[tylerrnol]

Not to come on here and complain for the 5,000th night in a row but. I just wish shit was different. Literally every single thing in my life. I wish I wasn’t afab and I wish I could be in a body that I didn’t hate. I wish I had a job that actually paid well. I wish I could afford to move. I wish I wasn’t a coward who could actually stomach coming out to my family. I wish I could let myself be loved by someone else without throwing up 1,000 defenses.

I just hate myself so goddamn bad. Literally everything about myself. Like, I know self deprecation isn’t cute or quirky or whatever but. It’s genuinely how I feel. Looking at myself in the mirror makes me sick to my stomach. And that’s taking the whole dysphoria thing out of the picture. My personality sucks. I go from being so embarrassingly meek to just being a downright fucking asshole and it’s awful. There’s no balance. And like, there’s something genuinely fucking wrong with me. Saying I’m ‘broken’ or whatever sounds so stupid but like... it’s true. There’s something genuinely wrong with how my brain works and how I interact with other people. Like making friends is goddamn impossible and I can’t let me guard down long enough to get close to anyone irl at all, romantically or platonically. And it’s so frustrating. I feel such a disconnect with myself and with other people. And it’s not a fun feeling whatsoever. Maintaining relationships is even worse. I rarely ever see my irl friends and while that’s partly because everyone’s busy and have their own lives, it’s also just because I just. Am too drained. For any sort of connection whatsoever. 

This isn’t the life I want to live, and this isn’t the person I want to be. But Idk how to be any different though. Like yeah there’s the whole thing where it’s like -- you’re under no obligation to be the same person you were yesterday. But I can’t just change. You can’t just rewire your entire self, no matter how much you hate yourself. But I wish you could. I’d give anything. I’d give anything to not feel so stuck. In this body, in this job, in poverty, in myself in general.  

I just wish I could be someone I didn’t hate. I wish I didn’t constantly feel like I’m drowning. And I feel like no one irl gets it. My bosses don’t realize how much it takes for me to just physically exist, let alone actually come to work every day. But that doesn’t matter. I don’t matter and literally anything I try to accomplish there doesn’t matter in the grand scheme of things either.  

I can’t even fault them for it though. It’s not their fault that I’m the way I am. But I genuinely feel like I’m hanging on by a thread. And this isn’t sustainable. Idk how much longer I can keep doing this until I have an absolute fucking mental breakdown. And not to sound like a whiny little baby but it isn’t fair. I didn’t ask to be born and I sure as hell didn’t ask for This Life. But it feels like right now the most I can really do is shrug it off and be like Whatever. I have to stuff all of this shit down so much. I feel like I can’t talk to anyone irl about any of this either because if any of them knew how often I think about just offing myself I’m pretty sure they’d just commit me tbh. (Not that I WOULD but. The thoughts are there. Not that that’s Normal whatsoever but I need to make that distinction.) And as nice as a grippy sock vacation sounds in theory, I don’t think it would help and more importantly it’s expensive. 

Anyway this is rambling and largely incoherent but just. I’m sad. I’m so so so sad. To the point where I need to deflect this post with humor, and say that this is an actual photo of me rn: