#what the fuck am i supposed to do except kill myself? because i can't deal with this. im tired of struggling for nothing

[claudiadpdl]

so my tire treads are getting below the legal limit, there's a nail in one of them, and it'll cost $1.2k to get them all replaced since apparently, due to having awd, i can't just do two. and i have nowhere near enough to afford that being done even in working two jobs. oh yeah, and winter is like a week away here. and the one person that could have helped me three times over doesn't give a fuck. honestly, what is the point, really. if this is just what my life is destined to be then i don't want to live it. im tired of putting on a brave face. im tired

[trannydykepuppybot]

How do I get people to treat me like a dog? I'm so fucking burned out and tired of pretending to be a functional human being and I've been basically only domming for months. There have been isolated exceptions, sure, but it feels like I'm running on maybe if I'm lucky once a week ten second instances of relief and counterintuitively self-sustaining trauma. I can't recharge just by taking breaks from being dommey, either. It's like noticing your phone battery is low, so you turn it off for a bit. How the fuck is that supposed to help anything in the long-term? Like, some nice stuff happened over winter break, but then I go home and remember that my normal is this awful situation. And it's not like I don't love my subs, I really do and I do find fulfillment with them, they mean worlds to me, but it's like all water, no food. I can't sustain myself like this. I know this is probably the dumbest fucking thing anyone has ever vented about, "oh, I feel so sad because nobody is calling me a good puppy," but just. I can't handle being in constant control. I'm just not human. I'm not supposed to be like this. I have to keep this mask up and this hat on 24/7 and it's genuinely killing me. I just need to give it up for five fucking minutes. I need breaks. I need time to be myself that I can rely on. I need to know that when I go home after a miserable day of dealing with asshole college students who don't know what a thought experiment is and deranged zionist cishets ranting about the economy, I can stop pretending to be something I'm not. And the unfortunate truth is that I need that process to be facilitated. Maybe it's unhealthy, it probably is, but this is my poison. This is my coping mechanism. This is what I burst into tears thinking about at 3am. I can't fucking live like this. I need to be able to feel like me. I'm a severely unstable half-formed wannabe "woman" who thinks it's a robot dog, and if that's what I'm stuck being, why can't I at least be allowed to feel like the insane piece of shit that I am enough that I don't want to be vivisected and put in a museum rather than spend another month drifting even farther away from the already miserable shit that I am?

[disasterousduo]

INCORRECT QUOTES

(I have drawings I’ll make at some point, right now take these incorrect quotes)

Scythe, about Y/N: Apparently we’re getting someone new in the group. Harvest: Are we stealing them? Lunar: New or used? Scythe: Wonderful responses, both of you.

🩸🎃🌟

Y/N: *Gently taps table* Lunar: *Taps back* Scythe: What are they doing? Harvest: Morse code. Y/N: *Aggressively taps table* Lunar: *Slams hands down* YOU TAKE THAT BACK-

🩸🎃🌟

Y/N: You are now one day closer to eating your next plate of nachos. Scythe: That's the most hopeful thing I've ever heard. Harvest: But what if I die tomorrow and never eat any nachos? Lunar: Then tomorrow is nacho lucky day.

🩸🎃🌟

Y/N: Yo is Lunar sleeping or dead?  Lunar: Hopefully dead, I hated their guts.  Harvest: Yeah, so did I.  Scythe: Okay first of all, fuck you-

🩸🎃🌟

Y/N: We need a distraction. Scythe: Is anyone here good at jumping up and down and making weird noises? Harvest, whispering: My time has come

🩸🎃🌟

Y/N: Why are you on the floor? Scythe: I'm depressed. Scythe: Also I was stabbed, can you get Lunar, please.

🩸🎃🌟

Scythe: Lunar, my old arch enemy. Harvest: ... I thought I was your arch enemy? Scythe: I have a life outside of you, Harvest.

🩸🎃🌟

Scythe: *Walking in to a room* Sorry I’m late... I was... doing things.  *Sounds of running footsteps progressively getting louder*  Lunar: *Out of breath* THEY PUSHED ME DOWN THE FUCKIN’ STAIRS.

🩸🎃🌟

Scythe: Harvest and I have the kind of easy chemistry where we finish each other's-  Harvest: Sentences.  Scythe: Don't interrupt me.

🩸🎃🌟

Harvest: If there's going to be a big dramatic scene, wait until I get back. Lunar: Of course. I can't flip this table by myself.

🩸🎃🌟

Y/N: Lunar, stop! This isn't you, you've gone mad with power! Lunar: Well of course I have. Lunar: Have you ever tried going mad without power? Lunar: It's boring.

🩸🎃🌟

Y/N: A theif.  Harvest: Thief?  Y/N: Theif.  Harvest: I before E, except after C.  Y/N: Thceif.  Y/N: No.

🩸🎃🌟

Y/N: Hey, you want some leftovers?  Scythe: What's that?  Y/N: You've never had leftovers???  Scythe: No, because I'm not a quitter.

🩸🎃🌟

Lunar: *holding a bottle* Is this whiskey or perfume?  Harvest: *chugs entire bottle*  Harvest: It’s perfume.

🩸🎃🌟

Y/N: Oh just so you know, it's very muggy outside Lunar: Lunar: Y/N, I swear, if I step outside and all of our mugs are on the front lawn... Y/N: *Sips coffee from bowl*

🩸🎃🌟

Lunar: Fuck. Scythe: We've got to work on your cursing. Lunar: Why? I'm pretty good at cursing already.

🩸🎃🌟

Y/N: *Stubs their toe* FUCK! Scythe: Mind your language! Y/N: What else am I supposed to say, “Woe is I”??? Scythe: Y/N: You have to accept that swear words are necessary sometimes.

🩸🎃🌟

Y/N: How do I deal with my enemies? Scythe: Kill them Y/N: That's a bit extreme, I was hoping for a more passive solution Scythe: Kill them only a little? 🩸🎃🌟

Y/N: *Accidentally hits Harvest in the face* Y/N: *Trying to decide between saying 'I’m fucking sorry' and 'Are you okay'* Y/N: ARE YOU FUCKING SORRY?! Harvest: What’s wrong with you?!

🩸🎃🌟

Scythe : I'm a reverse necromancer. Lunar: Isn't that just killing people? Scythe: Ah, technicality.

🩸🎃🌟

Y/N: Is something burning? Scythe: Just my love for you. Y/N: Scythe, the toaster is on fire.

🩸🎃🌟

Y/N, watching the news: Someone tried to fight a squid at the aquarium today!  Lunar: *walks in covered with ink* Well, maybe the squid was being a dick.

🩸🎃🌟

Y/N: Treat spiders the way you want to be treated. Lunar: Killed without hesitation. Y/N: No.

🩸🎃🌟

Y/N: *Trying to fill out legal paperwork stuff* Were you guys born AMAB or AFAB? Scythe: Bold of you to assume I was born at all. Harvest: I personally was created in a lab. Lunar: I just straight up spawned lol.

🩸🎃🌟

Y/N: *Screams*  Scythe: *Screams louder to assert dominance*  Harvest: Should we do something?!  Lunar, observing: No, I want to see who wins this.

Scythe: Lunar isn’t answering their phone Y/N: I’ll call Scythe: Harvest and I have both tried six times each, what makes you thi- Lunar: Hello?

🩸🎃🌟

Y/N: I’ve done a lot of dumb stuff. Scythe: I witnessed the dumb stuff. Lunar: I recorded the dumb stuff. Harvest: I joined in on the dumb stuff. Ruin: I TRIED TO STOP YOU FROM DOING THE DUMB STUFF!!!

🩸🎃🌟☕️

Y/N, trying to convince Ruin to join the group: You know... I thought it'd be good to have someone come along who's really... strong! Scythe: And loud! Harvest: And grumpy! Lunar: And oblivious to reality! Ruin:

🩸🎃🌟☕️

Y/N: So uhhh... my question is: my friend keeps on going into the pantry and grabbing handfuls of fettuccine... uncooked... Lunar: I would hope they're not grabbing handfuls of cooked fettuccine! Ruin: In your pantry! Y/N: Yeah... and eating them raw, and they keep calling them 'chips'. ... How do I make them stop? Lunar: Is your friend here? Y/N, motioning to Scythe: Yeah. Lunar, to Scythe: You're a monster! Words MEAN things! >:( Harvest: Does anybody remember- I haven't been to Olive Garden in many moons- but they DO have a like- fettuccine bottle that you can just- grab em out of and chew- Harvest: HOLD ON. WAS THIS A PRANK YOU GUYS PULLED ON ME WHEN WE WENT TO OLIVE GARDEN AS KIDS?! Harvest: NO, STOP. EVERYBODY SHUT UP. DO THEY GIVE YOU RAW FETTUCCINE TO CHEW ON IN THE LOBBY OF THE OLIVE GARDEN Everyone else: No. Harvest, to Lunar and Ruin: YOU FUCKIN BASTARDS Lunar: YAAAAAAAAY! Ruin: THE PRESTIGE!

🩸🎃🌟☕️

Y/N: I’m an idiot. Scythe: Harvest: Lunar: Ruin: Y/N: Scythe: If you’re waiting for us to disagree, this is going to be a long day.

🩸🎃🌟☕️

Y/N: We need more help. Maybe I should call my friends. Scythe: ... Your what? Y/N: My friends. Harvest: Are they saying “friends”? Lunar: I think they're being sarcastic. Ruin: No, no, no, this is delirium, they've cracked from being awake all night. Hey, Y/N! All of your friends are in this room. Y/N: I have other friends! You asked me to make new friends, I made new friends! It was a task. I complete tasks.

🩸🎃🌟☕️

Y/N: What does 'take out' mean? Scythe: Food. Harvest: Dating Lunar: Murder Ruin: IT CAN MEAN ALL THREE IF YOU'RE NOT A COWARD.

🩸🎃🌟☕️

Y/N: Imagine if someone handed you a box full of all the items you have lost throughout your life  Scythe: Self-esteem, haven't seen you in years!  Harvest: Oh wow, my childhood innocence! Thank you for finding this!  Lunar: I knew I lost that potential somewhere!  Ruin: My moral code, is that you?  Y/N:  Y/N: I was just gonna show you this cool trunk my mother left me but do you guys need a hug?

🩸🎃🌟☕️

Y/N: Anyone d-  Scythe: Depressed?  Harvest: Drained?  Lunar: Dumb?  Ruin: Disliked?  Y/N: -done with their work... what is wrong with you people ...

🩸🎃🌟☕️

Y/N: You really put aside everything and came all this way for me? How did you even get here so fast? Scythe: Several traffic violations. Harvest: Three counts of resisting arrest. Lunar: Roughly thirteen cans of energy drinks. Ruin: Also, that’s not our car.

🩸🎃🌟☕️

Y/N: What if the person who named Walkie Talkies named everything?  Scythe: Pregnancy tests are Maybe Babies  Harvest: Socks are Feetie Heaties  Lunar: Forks are Stabby Grabbies  Scythe: Defibrillators are Heartie Starties  Harvest: Nightmares are Dreamy Screamies  Lunar: Stamps are Lickie Stickies  Ruin, annoyed: You are disappointments

🩸🎃🌟☕️

Scythe: Rules are made to be broken.  Y/N: They were made to be followed. Nothing is made to be broken.  Harvest: Uh, piñatas.  Lunar: Glow sticks.  Suntea: Karate boards.  Moontea: Spaghetti when you have a small pot.  Scythe: Rules.  Y/N:

🩸🎃🌟☕️

Y/N: Would you guys be there for me if I was going through something? Scythe: Nope, absolutely not. Harvest: I hope it sucks, whatever you're going through. Lunar: I hope it emotionally scars you for the rest of your life. Suntea: I hope you reach out to me so I can ignore you. Moontea: I can't wait to go to your funeral, knowing I could've changed that outcome.

🩸🎃🌟☕️

Y/N, walking into their house: Hello, people who do not live here.  Scythe: Hey.  Harvest: Hi.  Lunar: Hello.  Suntea: Hey!  Y/N: I gave you the key to my place for emergencies only!  Moontea: We were out of Doritos.

🩸🎃🌟☕️

Lunar: Just be yourself. Harvest: 'Be myself'? Lunar, I have one day to win Y/N over. How long did it take before you guys started liking me? Scythe: Couple weeks. Suntea: Six months. Moontea: Jury’s still out. Harvest: See, Lunar? Harvest: 'Be myself'. What kind of garbage advice is that?

🩸🎃🌟☕️

Y/N: Dumbest scar stories, go!  Suntea: I burned my tongue once drinking tea.  Harvest: I dropped a hair dryer on my leg once and burned it.  Lunar: I have a piece of graphite in my leg for accidentally stabbing myself with a pencil in the first grade.  Scythe: I was taking a cup of noodles out of the microwave and spilled it on my hand and I got a really bad burn.  Moontea:  Moontea: I have emotional scars.

🩸🎃🌟☕️

Y/N: Time for plan G. Scythe: Don’t you mean plan B? Y/N: No, we tried plan B a long time ago. I had to skip over plan C due to technical difficulties. Harvest: What about plan D? Y/N: Plan D was that desperate disguise attempt half an hour ago. Lunar: What about plan E? Y/N: I’m hoping not to use it. Suntea dies in plan E. Moontea: I like plan E.

🩸🎃🌟☕️

*Squad reactions to being told ‘I love you’*  Y/N: Thanks fam!  Scythe: oh no  Harvest: *cries* I love you too  Lunar: Sounds fake but okay  Suntea: *A flustered mess*  Moontea: can i get a refund

🩸🎃🌟☕️

Y/N: I CAN'T DO IT! Scythe, laughing: I CAN'T EITHER! Y/N: I CANT FUCKING DO IT ANYMORE Harvest: WELL I'LL TELL YOU WHAT, YOU CAN EITHER GIVE UP NOW, OR YOU CAN FIGURE IT OUT. BECAUSE WE CERTAINLY CAN'T DO IT WITHOUT YOU, AND WE KNOW YOU CAN'T DO IT WITHOUT US. Y/N: Y/N: I appreciate it, Y/N: BUT LOOK WHAT WE'RE DEALING WITH- Lunar: Y/N- Y/N: YOU GOTTA DRAW THE LINE SOMEWHERE! Suntea: Y/N we gotta- Y/N: YOU GOTTA DRAW A FUCKING LINE IN THE SAND. YOU GOTTA MAKE A STATEMENT. Y/N: YOU GOTTA LOOK INSIDE YOURSELF AND SAY 'What am I willing to put up with today?' Y/N, motioning to Moontea: NOT FUCKING THIS

🩸🎃🌟☕️

Y/N: What doesn't kill me should run, because now I'm fucking pissed.

🩸🎃🌟☕️

Y/N, motioning to a Halloween display: All these ghosts! All these ghosts! I still can’t find a boo.

🩸🎃🌟☕️

Lunar: If you can’t beat them, dress better than them

🩸🎃🌟☕️

Scythe: People are always asking me if I'm a morning person or a night person.  Scythe: And I'm just like, 'Buddy! I'm barely even a PERSON!'

🩸🎃🌟☕️

Ruin: Dear friends, your Christmas gift this year… is me. That’s right, another year of friendship. Your membership has been renewed.

🩸🎃🌟☕️

Harvest: You wanna see how hardcore I am? Harvest: *punches wall* Harvest: Harvest: Take me to the hospital.

🩸🎃🌟☕️

Scythe: I’m sick and tired of being called 'mortal' like, you don’t know that. Neither do I. I have never died even ONCE. Nothing has been proven yet. Stop making assumptions. It’s rude.

🩸🎃🌟☕️

Harvest: I’m going to defeat you with the power of friendship! ... And this knife I found.

🩸🎃🌟☕️

Lunar: Okay okay stop asking me if I'm straight, gay, bi, whatever. I identify as a FUCKING THREAT.

🩸🎃🌟☕️

*The squad is over at Y/N's house* Scythe: Ohhhh, we each get our own oven? Y/N: ... N-No... Y/N, laughing: How many ovens do you think I have??? Scythe, motioning to their kitchen: Three, I thought! Harvest : I see a- Y/N, motioning to one device: This is a microwave. Scythe: Oh, well I- Y/N: Hey wait wait, actually- hang on- *fiddles with the buttons on the microwave* Y/N, amazed: Its got a bake setting! Lunar: Ohoho, you learn something new every day! Suntea: Do we- Do we roshambo for who gets to pick first? Y/N: Now I've just discovered I have more ovens than I thought, we don't have to roshambo nothin! Y/N: I am someone who owns four ovens... Y/N, louder and way too happy: I am someone... who owns FOUR OVENS... Y/N: I didn't know I was so rich with ovens... Moontea, pointing to another appliance: Also the toaster oven! Y/N: Scythe: Ohhh, toasty boy! Four- Five ovens! Y/N: Y/N, fucking ECSTATIC: I AM SOMEONE WHO OWNS FIVE OVENS

🩸🎃🌟☕️

*Everyone is standing around the broken coffee maker*  Y/N: So. Who broke it? I'm not mad, I just wanna know.  Everyone:  Suntea: ...I did. I broke it.  Y/N: No. No you didn't. Harvest ?  Harvest : Don't look at me. Look at Lunar.  Lunar: What?! I didn't break it.  Harvest : Huh, that's weird. How'd you even know it was broken?  Lunar: Because it's sitting right in front of us and it's broken.  Harvest : Suspicious.  Lunar: No, it's not!  Scythe: If it matters, probably not, but Moontea was the last one to use it.  Moontea: Liar! I don't even drink that crap!  Scythe: Oh really? Then what were you doing by the coffee cart earlier?  Moontea: I use the wooden stirrers to push back my cuticles. Everyone knows that, Scythe!  Suntea: Okay let's not fight. I broke it. Let me pay for it, Y/N.  Y/N: No! Who broke it!?  Everyone:  Scythe: Y/N... Harvest 's been awfully quiet.  Harvest : rEALLY?!  *Everyone starts arguing*  Y/N, being interviewed: I broke it. I burned my hand so I punched it.  Y/N: I predict 10 minutes from now they'll be at each other's throats with warpaint on their faces and a pig head on a stick.  Y/N:  Y/N: Good. It was getting a little chummy around 

[mllemaenad]

I think I need a break from Fallout 76. I swore I was going to get through it, and Tessa and I have been making good progress. My biggest complaint up until now is that they won't let you have Sofia and Beckett active at camp at the same time. I'm sure this is a resourcing issue, but Fallout 76 is such a lonely game. I get that you're supposed to play with friends, but unless you have a dedicated role playing group (and while I am sure such things exist, I do not get the impression that they are the majority) that's companionship for the player, not the character. I think Tessa, who did a lot of her growing up in a vault, would love a tiny community of her own.

But I have just slogged through Steel Dawn, trying to justify to myself why Tessa, who loves books and writes poetry and runs down the road to help out Lane and his Responders with food runs or package deliveries every day, would even be there. That's immediately followed by Steel Reign and ... I just can't. Not right now. There is no option to tell the Brotherhood to go the fuck back to California and leave us alone.

The entire first part of the quest line was "these idiots mislaid a bunch of dangerous weapons and are now complaining about other people in the region having the dangerous weapons". You know who I don't think is qualified to have dangerous weapons? The Brotherhood of Steel.

While I appreciate that "dangerous super mutant attacks", which seem to be part two and presumably have something to do with the dodgy scientist guy who showed up earlier, constitute a serious problem ... I am struggling to believe that Tessa would work with them on it. They would also kill Grahm! And Gail! Those are her friends. There are so many other people who could help deal with this, but that's not how the story goes.

So I'm going to give Fallout: London a try. It seems to be the hot new thing at the moment, and I am curious. Mods can be something of a mixed bag, and I'm hesitant to be very critical even when I don't like them, because the labour involved in some of these things ... I can just about do some simple patching in xEdit. So, you know, not really my place to criticise. But I've been trying to mod Bethesda games since Morrowind, and the worst you can say is "Why the hell did I install this? Was I drunk?" and scour it from your game.

But I have (so far) enjoyed Sim Settlements 2 and Tales from the Commonwealth. I did not take to Depravity and Outcasts and Remnants, for several reasons although the ... thing ... with Preston was the last straw (Except that they allowed you to pause your search after going through Kellogg's flat. I do not want to install that mod again ... but I sometimes think ... just for that one feature ... Emily could have a bath and a nap before tearing off again.).

Thank heavens for Mod Organiser 2. I can swap this thing in and leave Emily's load order intact.

I have named my girl Hannah, and since the premise is that you wake up in a lab with no memory of who you are or how you got there, I am going to learn about her as I go.

Initial impressions:

Wait. Is that Colin Baker and Sylvester McCoy performing unethical experiments? That's ... something. Tortured by no less than two Doctor Whos.

Radshrews are terrifying. Little mice creatures should not be this hard to deal with. Admittedly with Hannah's fists since the game seems to be allergic to starter weapons.

This is not quite fair, as some guy kindly handed her a pocket knife once she crawled out of the train crash. But we are now fighting raiders with a pocket knife, and it is only slightly easier to deal with.

While Churchill is adorable, and we are keeping him, I do question his previous human's judgement. Hannah is a lost amnesiac wearing the rags she picked off the last raider she killed and wielding a pocket knife she does not know how to use. What on earth made him think she could care for a dog?

Now we need to go talk to some people called "the Thamesfolk" so Hannah can stop taking 30% more damage (Why? Just why? She can be one-shot killed by a bloatfly looking at her funny). We are about to find out how London feels about mutants, I think!

[jinxxedmisery]

I did a quick little sketch (by quick, I mean it took me like 2 hours lol) I still struggle with feet and shoes...

I just saw a pose on pinterest and thought omg, what if Astarion and my tav... but he's biting their thigh 🤭

Ofc, I had to name it.. thirst... and I added the "Happy" symbol to kind of cover a sketch I did on the same page... You know... it wasn't originally supposed to be just one piece, I was practicing poses and I liked this one way too much to just leave it or risk messing up when I redrew it.

This is entirely self indulgent.. and intended to be Spawn Astarion because he's so babygirl 🥰😘😍

🤣 also I don't think I posted but I got through the Cazador fight not too long ago.. and

Spoilers and dumb ramble ahead:

For most of my day, I sat there wondering how the fuck I would beat that bastard... he was one shotting Shadowheart with his fucking lightning bolt, then sending his gas minions after the survivors. Astarion being in the ritual made it 10× more difficult.. so... I cheated... and fuck... It should have been obvious...

I LITERALLY FORGOT FOR THE ENTIRE FUCKING DAY THAT VAMPIRES ARE WEAK TO SUNLIGHT.. I blame Astarion and his parasite as well as Alucard for that one honestly.. the day walker thing kind of made me forget that omfg immunity to daylight is an exception, not the rule..

So I felt stupid.. once I got that, it was so much easier.. oh and almost constantly had Astarion in stealth kill mode until Cazadick was gone.

Also side note.. the VA for Cazador is perfect.. Like they really sells the "I'm a pathetic little worm, and your worst nightmare, fear me while I bitch and cry" LOL and again that's a compliment.. Larian really succeeded in making an evil character extremely grating and hatable which again, a good thing, not a bad thing.

The heartbreak I felt though afterwards when Astarion screams and cries.. God.. the second I got to this scene, I KNEW I couldn't let him ascend, doing so would be so cruel.. and yes.. this is ascended Astarion slander, I don't like my men too domineering.. maybe a little bit, but not enough to like kill innocent children and eat their hands or some shit lmfao (Doing a durge run too.. where I'm going to ascend Astarion and be a horrible bastard that eats babies) and I don't like that he loses the genuine feelings he has for tav/durge and becomes what he sought to destroy, an abuser.

Now.. the graveyard scene... I had tears in my eyes.. Honestly, the reason I love Astarion so much is because he is quite relatable. I will not go into detail, but I was.. SAed and abused as a kid. And honestly.. Seeing the bit where he scratched out his death date, made me feel hope.. for myself... For my own healing.. it truly meant so much seeing another survivor of abuse begin anew, find themselves again... even though I have done that already myself for the most part, I've found purpose, passions, love, heartbreak, etc and I've found some level of beauty in the life. I related quite a lot to the line about sex feeling tainted.. I am at a point where it no longer feels as terrible, I feel genuine enjoyment in it... (Can't do casual sex though.. That would trigger me into a ptsd attack) And I think part of that was letting myself go at my own pace, making sure my partners knew, and having control and the ability to consent and revoke consent at any point. Emotional attachment helped a great deal too.

I've rambled on enough.. but... Let me end this off by saying, If you went through unspeakable horrors at the hands of those who you thought were supposed to protect you, You are not alone, Even if you do not see it now, there is light at the end of the tunnel, keep on living, keep trying to find joy in little things. It does get better, what was done to you was horrible and you did not deserve it. I promise, you will see better days. You will be happy again, even if you feel like the pain will never end, there is always moments of calm.... live for those... live for your pets, live for your friends, the people around you, live for that cute thing you just ordered, live for that movie or TV series you're excited about watching... even the next patch for bg3.. or more Astarion content if that's your reason right now... and take it one day at a time. You will be okay.

If you need to vent out some shit, I'll listen, I may not know what to say or be able to offer comfort, but I will always lend an ear, even to a total stranger if they need it.

That's all from me, goodbye, until my next post.. whenever that will be ❤🖤❤🖤

[leatherbookmark]

thinking about the autisms and the adhds and such and wondering if getting Diagnosed (with anything, really) as a kid would have helped me in any way -- perhaps made me default to "ah well i do X because i have a thing on my brain, i guess i could try Y to deal with it" when encountering Problems, instead of "oh god i am the stupidest most fucked up person in the world i should kill myself like yesterday" -- and like

there were ATTEMPTS. i think

these attempts were rather bad and confusing, but they Were. i think

like i remember a sub teacher in primary school saying that "there's a note that you might have dyslexia" to which i was like ??? no that can't be right? because i was the best in class at Spelling Things, that's the direct opposite of dyslexia, right? there must have been a mistake. (i still have no idea what that was about, tbh)

then i remember having to go to this after school thing called "reeducation" which sounds GREAT right but it was just an hour in a tiny classroom with one or two struggling students (i didn't really struggle in anything other than maths), during which we'd do things like trace zigzaggy patterns (sort of like you do when you're preparing to learn how to write) or play with those like toy "sewing" kits, except the things you used to "sew" patterns were thick like shoelaces.

i have no idea why i landed there or what was it supposed to do, and at some point i just stopped coming to these because i felt there was no point in it. but also i was like "what dyslexia, what reeducation, i am SMART and in fact smarter than my classmates". and most importantly that's probably what my mother would've said if someone had suggested anything, given that her go-to reply back when i still told her about my concerns re: studying for tests and such was always "oh what are you talking about, you're brilliant and it's going to go great". al. ways.

but. what woulge ? a guy can dream

[sincelastsession]

Well I'm just getting continuously fucked over and fucked over and fucked over and fucked over and fucked over and fucking fucked over.

My mom tells me one thing my dad tells me another thing

Mom says that we're selling mom and dad's house that he lives in so they can afford to get me a place and if they pass away then it goes to me.

Dad says that Half the house is my mother's in half the house is my sister's and me. He told me he was going to put a lean on my mother's house and fuck her over out of a place to live. I don't understand. I'm not supposed to tell her though or he will disinherit me.

These people are fucking geriatric and insane.

They're fantastic fucking actors and actresses.

And I know it will happen if it's just me and my sister and that fucking house because I will be on SSI still because my parents aren't gonna move me from here because they do not fucking care about me. And since I cannot have assets even if it's put into a trust which my parents don't seem to understand unless I have it wrong everything will go to my sister or if it does get split guess who's going to take over the house and claim it as hers with her husband and his trashy family? My sister who is not even my fucking blood. And in this case yes I do give a shit about that. And no I do not want to explain.

She is only there because I lied to a social worker so my parents would maybe be happy for a while and not fight and say that they were gonna kill each other and fucking traumatize me

But that didn't work out and they ended up getting a fucking divorce that they both won't get the hell over.

My mom hates my dad my dad hates my mom they cannot seem to talk 21 another about me or my sister or anything without getting into a fight.

However they need to speak 21 another and tell me what the absolute fuck is going on.

Because one says that 1 thing is happening and the other says that another thing is happening

And I keep asking for clarity over and over and over and over again and no one seems to be able to provide me with any sort of clarity about what's going to happen to me even though they have both told me oh don't worry you're gonna be okay we're gonna take care of you.

Who is gonna take care of me other than me?

I have not left this apartment by myself.

I am having a horrible executive dysfunction.

Everything is stressing me out I can't get anything done I'm laying in bed most of the day or at my computer most of the day it's just absorbing all sorts of media to keep myself distracted or sleeping or just laying there in complete dread unable to do anything or even fucking take care of myself or my apartment right doing bare minimum and it's not great and I'm pissed off because I am trying very hard to keep my head above water

And no one gives a single fuck about me

I tried calling both of my parents to try and get an answer are they moving me what's going on when is this happening can you help me with these things please and they both freaked out and hung up on me and yelled at me

I'm going to be 38 and October this is humiliating

I didn't even think I would live to 35 and I have nothing to show for living that log at this age either

Do you know how embarrassing it is to be my age with no boyfriend for anybody to see with their own eyes and with no partner pretty 12 see what their own eyes I'm not engaged I have nothing going on except health problem after health problem and it's probably caused by stress for all I fucking know at this point or something worse but everybody else has their Heads up their fucking asses and I've been begging for help and it's so humiliating.

I do not want to be homeless I do not want to live in a lot income environment. I did not grow up that way and I cannot handle much more than what I'm already dealing with which is a bit too much. And it really doesn't have anything to do with people of color they could be white and pissing me off just as much.

I can't even look at politics because that just makes me want to do things that I can't say

I can't think about the world and what's going on in the world

I was supposed to go to the Netherlands twice by now could have gone 3 times by now but my parents have fucked me over with that as well. I told them OK never mind giving me money for the trip just give me money so we can move me out of this apartment because I can't go up-and-down the stairs very much it hurts very badly. I'm in pain constantly. And yeah the medical marijuana helps but the medical marijuana also hinders because there's no system that's set up properly with that there's so many flaws in the medical marijuana system the only thing I'm getting out of it is pain relief and some anxiety relief. Otherwise I'm not really enjoying myself. I'm watching my friends travel and sell their bodies on only fans too valuable to do that and I'm mad because I want to do that too to make money but I can't know if I want to but it feels like I'm going to have to.

I don't want to do this shit anymore. A psych facility is not gonna help me. There are no medications that are going to help me except for the one that my Doctor is to chicken shit to just put me back on a very fucking low-dose. Like do you really think the board would get that upset about anxiety medicine and baby dose of attiral in medical marijuana it's not gonna do anything to me that already hasn't been done. And if it kills me so fucking what. I don't care. I have lived in pain and suffering my whole life Along with gross abuse and I am sick and tired almost 38 years old of dealing with all this stupid shit. Like clearly I am autistic there's no fucking doubt about that. And yes I probably act younger than my age. But so does my sister who is not even blood related. So it has to do with how we were raised. I think for a moment that my parents might possibly be good people and then they do bad people things. And I feel conflicted because everyone tells me why don't you just stop giving a fuck well why don't you just stop carrying about them and I'm like how do people do that I don't know how to do that how do you quit caring about your own family how do you quit loving your family how do you separate from that. How do you grieve people that are still alive. How do you grieve people in general because I have never gotten over a single death that I have ever seen or known about. You have no idea how much grief I carry around.

I would have to say in this moment I do feel very situationally depressed and I know damn well that there is not one and I depressed it on the market that would help me right now because I've taken all of the motherfuckers and none of them work they may get worse.

I'm wearing a fucking heart monitor till the 30th I hate it it's making my skin itching blister and it hurts like a motherfucker and I can't touch it to do anything to make it feel better.

Absolutely nothing at the apartment complex has gotten solved.

Travis is having to help me take the cat to the vet tomorrow. Because my mom is being an asshole in refusing to go with me. I don't even know how to deal with a vet right now and I don't say people understand that. Sometimes I am functional and I can do things all by myself and other times I cannot and I don't know how to explain that.

I don't even know what to think about my partner right now. I don't really feel very loved. He's always busy and I don't really even care about the other partner at all. And he says he loves me and cares about me but he has not wanted to come and see me or not come to see me. The mixed messages are insane. He's probably way crazier than he comes across and I'm probably a stupid fucking idiot. I mean he gives me lots of green flags and then we have things like today I told him that when he had time I needed him and not in a sexual way and an emotional way I needed to talk to him and he said sure of course no problem and did I get a call or a text or a how are you feeling?

I left him alone all day to get deadlines at work done I did not bother him so he could get that done and he just fucking ignored my one simple request can you check in on me later please I'm having a hard time and he didn't fucking care enough to check

And it's little things like that just build up and it hurts

And I have no plans to talk to him tomorrow because I am pissed off

I'm tired of hanging out with and talking to Travis right now. He hasn't done anything wrong. I would just simply like to hang out with a new friend because having just won friend who actually acts like a friend is I don't know how to say it. You kind of get tired of one another and he has lots of people he goes to hang out with when he's not talking to me.

So I'm feeling pretty fucked over and isolated and alone and not cared about by a lot of people and then the people that do care I'm starting to notice that they're acting very similar to the other people just very slowly because I pick up on patterns and I'm not future predicting I'm just watching it happen

Let me know I'm ma's 38 I don't feel like i know what I'm doing at all anymore

I don't want to go live in lo and come housing where it will be just as bad as it is here if not worse

I have enough furniture and things that I need to get from my parent's house and my mother's house and probably other storage that I don't know about to fill up an entire house and I can't afford to even just be financially stable without SI and just put a down payment on something myself and be right of these people

I don't hate them or anything for helping me but I cannot be around the toxicity of everyone

I don't hate Travis I'm just tired of hanging out with him and I would like to hang out with other people

But no one seems to want to hang out with me and contact me and why am I even friends with all these people on Facebook

Why am I even on social media if none of these people give a damn

Everybody's like focus on yourself worry about yourself get your own life I don't know how I fucking don't know how to do that

I focus on myself and then I think about all the fucking problems that I have that I need to fix

I worry about myself and it just worries me sick.

Get my own life I've had my own life and it has been taken from me by so many people and now I don't even know how to operate and I don't even like people coming Uber to my apartment because it's such a fucking mess and people coming Uber to help me clean is embarrassing enough and I need to take my stupid fucking medicine for my diagnosis so I can function and clean it and do things myself and no one will let me And I have had no issues with the fucking medication.

And I'm mad about it.

Because people don't fucking know what it's like to have AD HD

They do not understand how the brain works

I can't even talk in a straight line unless I have that medication

And I do have left over of that medication and I would love to just go ahead and take that but do it will run out and I won't have that clarity anymore to be able to get anything done or communicate effectively

And I cannot get off my anxiety medication because that's a terrible idea right now

And I can't find a Pain management that can Help me Better than medical Marijuana.

It is terrifying knowing what's going to happen to you and not being able to do anything about it.

And everybody treats me like a spoiled child who is just having a tantrum and I'm not a spoiled child I was never spoiled my parents gave me everything and I never asked for any of it

I didn't play with half of the things that I was given to play with and I wasn't Rude about receiving things I would have meltdowns because it wasn't things that I was interested in and I felt like I had to play with Everything my parents got me or I would be a Failure at being a child because I didn't Know how to be a person as a child but because I had grown up around adults and so I didn't Know how to act like a little kid

And when I could act like a little kid I don't remember what's that like except for a very faint memory the ended in a trauma and I hate it

Everything hurts so badly

I have literally spent a week at home

I will probably just spend another week at home other than another Doctor appointment

I don't know what to see anymore

I am being moved I'm not being moved I'm being moved I'm not being moved I have to wait a little bit longer oh you're gonna be moved by the end of the month no you're not gonna be moved till September oh we're gonna move you know we're not gonna move you

Pick out a camera pick out a camera don't put a camera up don't do a camera get a camera don't get a camera if you put up a camera it'll probably get knocked down get a camera don't get a camera When are you gonna tell me what camera you want so I can go ahead and order it oh no I don't have enough money to order a camera for you sorry I can't help you anymore

I'm gonna pay the vet bills for the cats go ahead and take them to the vet make them an appointment oh wait you're paying no you're paying no you're paying no I didn't say that I didn't fucking say that

That's my mother and my fucking father

I feel like I'm fucking losing it

I am watching so many of my friends get engaged and married and have kids and have good lives even the people that are on their own who were struggling have everything together now and I feel like the odd ball and the fuck up

Travis is the only person that calls me to check on me

And at this point I'm irritated by it I'm not irritated by him trying to be kind or him being a good person I'm irritated that it's only him

If people can't use me for something they don't want anything to do with me

So I learned at an early age to make myself useful And I was supposed to perform 41 family and keep myself quiet for another and be seen and not heard

And I'm supposed to do this and that and I'm supposed to pull a rabbit out of a fucking hat

I'm so close to 40 I feel like I'm gonna waking nightmare

I don't even know what I'm doing here like I don't feel like I belong here in this timelime at all and not in a suicidal way just like I don't think I should exist I don't know what my existence is even about. Like what's the point of everything. I mean all I have known is suffering.

And You don't try to look at me below surface area they don't think like autistic people do they don't think like 88D people do they do not think like OCD people they do not think like people who have been in horrific traumas they don't have any fucking courtesy they don't have any God damn boundaries and I wish that they would all just fucking quit being terrible

I am having a meltdown because there's just absolutely nothing in my life that I can think of that's going well at all.

And if you sent me homework I did not find it in my 13 or 14000 unchecked emails

I have trash piles in my apartment it is fucking embarrassing I try to pick up a little bit of a time and I finally get an area clean and then another area I gets messed up and I can't organize anything and I can't get everything cleaned by myself and I need assistance and there's nobody

And I'm gonna be 38 and it's just likeI'm mortified

I'm becoming the thing that I really never wanted to become the thing that scared me the most growing up was seeing people who were homeless with signs begging for money on the street I told myself I never wanted to end up like that or have to sell my body or do anything of that nature that was lower class to get money. And yes the class system does play an important role I'm not saying that I'm one of those Bitches I'm just saying that like half of my family trained me to think that way and The Other half thought about it but in a Different way. They still don't want me living in ghetto conditions but they're not doing anything about it

And honestly if I just had quiet neighbors I really don't give a shit where the next house I live in is at

I would like to just have a secure place that I know is not going to go anywhere that I will have the money to pay rent and electrical and whatever

And honestly if I could get married for convenience at this point I would. If I had a partner with a home that could take care of me if I didn't have a safety net of money saved up who I could trust

And that's what my last psychiatrist said to me he told me that about 6 or 7 times that I needed to go ahead and just find a man that I could put up with and marry him For financial stability to get away from my family and he's not the only Doctor who has said it. I've had 8 other doctors say that to me. Because they can see how badly my parents are stressing me out and fucking with my head and controlling me with money.

They know that there's something not right with me whether they want to accept my diagnosis or not. I didn't know I need help they can't possibly be that stupid. I just don't think they care.

I mean I guess they will have fun arguing over who is going to pay for my funeral When I finally fucking lose my mind. Because there's just never any clarity. I have no sense of security because I don't know what's going on no one communicates with me properly. And I'm not misunderstanding I'm being told too completely separate things.

And like my sister won't screw me out of everything

She has hated me and stolen things from me and treated me like shit and done psychopathic type behaviors since she was a tiny child and didn't even know what she was doing and my parents just told me that she had oppositional defiant disorder which she totally doesn't have and never did she just learned how to manipulate very early from my parents or she was born fucked up like her biological father Who is the psychopath

I don't feel safe I don't feel secure nothing is going right my partner doesn't even seem to give a fuck Travis seems to be getting tired of me I'm getting tired of him and I need a break and I need a different friend to step in but I don't have anyone to reach out to that lives anywhere near me

I'm tired of asking for help I have wanted to be independent and I've been hyper dependent as much as I could possibly be my whole life and I feel so fucking humiliated every time I have to ask for help

And my dad ruined my chances of getting help from Stephanie because she was just gonna get me a place to live that was safer and he told me to ask her a question that I didn't even think about how it meant and she got horribly insulted and said that she could no longer help me because he is insane I think he asked me to ask her to buy an apartment in rent it to me

And I don't know I'm just I'm so sick of all this because people don't have respect for me or my time or my love or my energy

Travis said I should just use them at this point for how they treat me

But I can't bring myself to do that on purpose in a nasty way

And I'm just sick of people

There are people I want to be around and people I want to talk to and people I want to love and people I want to settle down with and I don't feel like that's ever gonna happen

I don't feel like anybody in this whole world understands me even a little bit no matter what I tell

I feel so incredibly alone

I don't even have anybody that could be a roommate even if I tried

And no one would want to move in here with me

Why would it place a mass in I am a crippled woman in all of my crippled woman shit is everywhere there would never bring anybody home or around here it would be not great I would not do well it roommate at my age

My dad just expects me and my sister to live in the house together

And my sister's gonna get married and she's gonna want to stay in the house and she's gonna want to have her fiancé's family come live in the house with her and I'm gonna get shoved out of living there And I'll get fucked over I'm gonna get fucked over

I mean I'm already getting fucked over

They tell me they're gonna move me they tell me they're gonna help me find a place to live and I Don't need to worry about anything and Then they Don't do it and they make app so many fucking Excuses and I Catch them in so many lies and it's like catching little kids who have snuck some icing off of the Cake every single fucking time except they have Big giant massive tantrums and they can punish me and I can't do anything about their Bad behavior they just threaten to take Everything away if I Catch them lying if I Catch them doing anything they're not supposed to be doing that's wrongThey tell me they're gonna move me they tell me they're gonna help me find a place to live and I Don't need to worry about anything and Then they Don't do it and they make app so many fucking Excuses and I Catch them in so many lies and it's like catching little kids who have snuck some icing off of the Cake every single fucking time except they have Big giant massive tantrums and they can punish me and I can't do anything about their Bad behavior they just threaten to take Everything away if I Catch them lying if I Catch them doing anything they're not supposed to be doing that's wrong

[xxjunesroomxx]

that post is funny especially bc i am actively feeling very suicidal right now like i was just about to make a post (this is now the post btw) about how i need to log off all social media because i can twist anything into a reason to kill myself and everything and anything just really triggers that thought but what am i supposed to do. rot and hate everything while even more insanely bored? at the very least i see cool art sometimes or something remotely funny on here even if everything else makes me want to die. this is quite a damned if i do damned if i don't situation because i dont have the resources to properly deal with this shit. i could tell my friends im so super suicidal i guess but what does that benefit. it does nothing except put pressure on them to make me not want to die and to feel bad for me or even perhaps guilty they can't just fix me or something, and everyone has their own mental illness to deal with already. what would actually benefit is having friends i talk to frequently (not my current friends' fault whatsoever, it just so happens atm i dont talk with anyone 24/7 like ive been used to for several years and yearn to have again) and computer to fucking do anything together with them on because my phone cannot do jack nor shit. perhaps even an irl partner to move in with so i can be alive for once. i think all of that would sufficiently keep me from going on social media

a job may also physically keep me too busy and tired to go on social media but you see the issue there is that would make me want to kill myself more. but i need one anyway to get things i want like a computer and potentially a shitty awful apartment so shrug we'll see what happens. if i die i die i guess

[xprojectrpg]

Moment of Awesome - Maya Lincoln-Lopez/Echo:In the wake of Behold A Pale Horse, Gabriel Cohuelo checks up on Maya and they talk about the unmentionable - the betrayal by Wade Wilson

“I got shot,” Maya agreed, her accompanying sign almost a dismissive flick. “I’m not dead. You’re not dead. It’s a win.”

"Stop it," Gabriel frowned. "It's not a win." He couldn't believe she would be pretending otherwise. "You got shot, and you needed days to recover. And..." He didn't even want to have to say it, and he was starting to get annoyed that she was going to make him.

“After the man I think of as an uncle was just lucid enough to shoot me in the foot.”

Maya said it matter of factly, the snap of the words harsh as she picked up her can of soda and looked down at the label.

“He didn’t kill me, Gabe. He was crazy enough to, he tried to kill Clarice. But not me. Me he recognised. Why do you think that’s a loss?”

"Because he's a fucking lunatic who fucking shot you!" He would not, ordinarily, have been so furious in front of her. Not because he thought she needed to see him maintain composure — they knew each other too well at this point — but because he didn't like to lose it in front of anyone. "That's not — it's not okay, Maya. Do you know how lucky you were? You don't think he and Clarice were close too? I mean, what the actual fuck!"

Maya launched the can of soda at his head with a furious scream, on her feet before she remembered and then collapsing downward as she got tangled in pillow, chair and the sheer agony of having put weight on a gunshot wound that wasn’t ready for it.

Gabriel, grateful for his powers, caught the can. He wordlessly went to her bathroom, pulled a bottle of over-the-counter painkillers from the medicine cabinet and tossed it in her direction before returning to his seat.

Maya swore viciously in Spanish, calling Gabriel’s parentage into question and telling him exactly what he could do with his painkillers as she struggled back up into her chair and settled in again.

She took several deep breaths, and then glared.

“What good does it do, mi hermano? I can’t do anything about it.”

"No," Gabriel acknowledged. "You can't." He refused to break eye contact with her. "But don't pretend it's fine. It's not." He kept calm, because he'd already lost his cool once, and it clearly hadn't served him. "You're not supposed to be fine. None of this is fine. And you're not stronger for pretending it is."

“Speaking from personal experience?”

Maya dry swallowed both pills and sat back into her chair, allowing the headrest to cradle her suddenly exhausted self.

“Why is it that people only offer advice when it’s someone else doing the same thing they were just doing not months ago, like nobody will call them on their bullshit.”

He bristled slightly at that, but he refused to let it fluster him. He'd been dealing with Maya for years; he knew how she operated, and he knew she wanted to get a rise out of him. "There's so much you think you know," he said after a second. "But yes, I am speaking from personal experience, actually." He wanted to tell her that he had been trying to deal with his shit, recently. But that would mean explaining just what his shit is, and he didn't owe her anything.

But he'd give her something small. "M-Day was one of the five worst days of my life," he said, standing and moving to the kitchen, because he refused to look at her while he told her this. "And I would probably be dead by now if Wade had not dragged me back here and forced me to deal with my shit instead of drinking myself to death." He opened the fridge, peering inside. "I was barely holding it together. You think I'm a mess now? You have no idea."

“I don’t.”

It was tired, and sad but it was honest. It was a concession. She stared into the middle distance, wondering when she’d ever felt more tired.

“You leave all the time. You don’t talk to me, except about easy things. It makes me crazy. You want me to say things but you never say them either. Don’t I get to care too?”

[altheterrible]

Ugh how do you recover from burnout when gas is $5/gallon and corporations are destroying the economy? When you're chronically ill, disabled, and always in pain your doctor won't do anything to fix? When you're chronically fatigued from your disabilities but still forced to spend 40 hours a week working a physically demanding, emotionally unfulfilling, low paying job with no ability to get anything better? When you're fighting with complex trauma you don't have the bandwidth to fix because so many other things are eating it up? How can I recover from burnout when I'm putting everything I have into keeping my head above water in this terrible world?

I'm miserable. I experience no joy in my life. I feel nothing. And it's not because of some magical chemical imbalance in my brain. It's because my life is objectively terrible. I have no money, I'm stressed about bills, I'm stressed about inflation, I'm stressed about rent. I'm in the process of declaring bankruptcy so it'll be 7 years before I can even rent my own apartment, let alone think about home ownership. I have multiple chronic illnesses including one that will almost certainly kill me. I have poorly controlled chronic pain that makes it hard to focus on anything except how much it hurts. I work in retail, where both customers and management treat me like expendable garbage, for which privilege I am paid $14/hr and taxed at 25%--and I have no energy left at the end of the day for anything I might find enjoyable. I never see my sister, I don't have the time or energy to hang out with friends, and most of the people I do interact with on a daily basis make it abundantly clear that my feelings aren't a priority for them.

So at the end of every day, I feel like I can't do it again, can't wake up and face another day like today. The idea of having to keep living every day while I feel so totally hollow and dead inside terrifies me. Looking ahead and seeing another day like this, over and over again forever, makes me want to die. I want to kill myself. I think about ways to do it. The only thing stopping me is funeral costs. I'm saving money so my sister can afford to have me cremated. Only $650 to go. With my wages, I'll have enough in roughly 80 years.

I can't deal with the misery. I've been self harming again, it's the only thing that takes the edge off how bad I feel. I thought I was past this, but really, why should I even bother trying not to cut when it's the only thing that helps? It's not like anything else is helping. And like, it doesn't matter at all that I've started again. To anyone. No one else cares, so why should I? That's the funny thing. Self harm is allegedly this serious mental health emergency, because it's such a dangerous coping mechanism--especially the way I do it, I routinely cut deeply enough to warrant stitches, though I haven't been getting them bc I can't afford to take the time off work to go to the psych ward for a week. Lol.

So yeah, self harm is supposed to be this serious sign that someone is suffering and needs help and people who are hurting themselves are usually offered support so they don't feel so overwhelmed that they resort to self harm.

Except when it's me cutting myself. Then no one gives a shit. Sam and John pretend they don't see it. My friends brush me off. Fuck, I told my therapist I was cutting again and she was like "you say you feel like it doesn't matter that you're cutting yourself, but it matters to me" but then she didn't like, do anything about it. She didn't ask why I was doing it, didn't talk about it further, and didn't provide me any kind of support so I didn't feel like I needed to keep cutting myself. So I'm going to keep doing what's helping. At least then I can get through the day.

Meds aren't the answer. I've tried meds. So many meds, and combinations of meds. Right now I'm on Adderall, Cymbalta, Latuda, and Seroquel. I still want to die. I still feel hollow and dead inside. I'm still dragging myself through every day and counting down the time until I can be asleep again. What's the answer? More antipsychotics? I'm already so exhausted I can barely function. More antidepressants? Tricyclics or MAOIs maybe, it's not like those have horrific side effects lol. Lithium? Anti seizure meds? Benzodiazepines?

The problem is that medication can't fix the fact the world is a garbage fire and I'm being burned alive in it. There is no medication that will fix capitalism. Psych medication won't make the customers at work treat me better, it won't increase my pay, it won't make my doctor listen to me about my pain. Psych medication won't help me find joy in the world because the world is a shit place.

I think the answer to the questions in my first paragraph is pretty clear: you don't recover from burnout under those circumstances. The circumstances have to change.

Something has to give, though, and I think it's going to be me.

[ace-of-hearts-and-spades]

EVERYBODY SHUT THE FUCK UP MEG POSTED A NEW FIC FOR THE PASSENGER I REPEAT WE HAVE A NEW RANSON FIC 🗣️🗣️📢📢

I'm VIBRATING IN MY SEAT I'm EXPLODING I am LAUNCHING MYSELF INTO SPACE YESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS. This is so fuckin soft and sweet and aughaughaah they deserve it after all the fuckass shit they've survived and been through (because they definitely did survive, one-hundy percent, no denial to see here folks 🫡)

Anyways the rest of my stupid play-by-play rambling is under the cut. But suffice to say I loved this and I'm obsessed with it and I'm going to be rereading it several times okay.

Love that Benson wakes up with backpain lmao. Me the fuck too man. Me 🤝 Benson fr.

Not a chance with this marshmallow bed and the sun popping its stupid Raisin Bran fucking face through the blinds. Benson sleeps dark and cold and silent with his back to the wall. Arms locked in front of his chest like armor. Like a corpse on a slab.  Or he used to, anyway.

God this part is just so fuckin Benson. The fucking scathingness of marshmallow and Raisin Bran fucking face is perfect and also very funny to me. But of course he sleeps like a corpse on the slab, like he's protecting himself or like he's just a living dead boy shell of a human facade......... I feel ill.

He inhales slow and deep and he smells warm and bright and a little grimey. Like summer. Like sweat and mud and the most beautiful blue sky you’ve ever seen.

RANDY SMELLS LIKE SUMMER............ JOTTING THIS DOWN THIS IS SO REAL THIS IS SO FITTING of course he smells like summer to Benson ouhgoghufgfghh 😭😭😭

And the nightmares they both have that wake them both up and how they try to support each other in different ways?? ow ow OW my fucking HEART. BENSON'S HAD SO MANY NIGHTMARES ABOUT SUFFOCATING THAT HE CAN'T DO THAT ANYMORE!!!!!!!!!!!! WHAT IF I KILLED SOMEBODY ABOUT THIS!!!!!!!!!!!

Sometimes he wants to fuck them up. Track mud across the carpet, break a dish. Say the wrong thing. Bite down too hard.

Ahhhh classic push-them-away-so-they-can't-hurt-me-first typa deal. I can totally envision Benson doing this. Keeping everyone at arm's length, and when anyone gets too close, he purposefully sabotages any potential capacity for a relationship. He's come to expect being a fuckup. But then Randy just pierces through his defenses and despite everything, despite how they came together..... he just can't. And more than that, he simply doesn't want to.

There’s been a violence in Benson for as long as he can remember. Bone-deep. And it’s a magnet, pulls other violence right to him like wasps to fresh meat.

Obsessed with this imagery oughhhhh

And Benson likes being Randy's guard dog...... fuck of course he does. He loves getting to pretend that he isn't a wobbly-legged calf too, standing by the edge of the road and watching the cars pass by and waiting for the day one comes too close and splatters him across the pavement or the day someone decides it's finally time to put this old cow out of its misery. Wow okay that got dark. Sorry. My brain went somewhere.

The version of himself who’s confident and decisive and knows who Trent Reznor is.

Stoppppp that's so fucking cute 🥺

“If you fall out I’m leaving your ass behind.”  “No you wouldn’t.”  “You’re right, I wouldn’t.” 

Literally my reaction lmao "shut the fuck up benson u liar we know u wouldn't."

Also I fucking love the details of Randy having crust in his eyes and leaving a pink mark on his cheek and Benson's chest from where he was pressed up against him. It's so realistic and almost...... I want to say deromanticized? But it's still so soft and sweet. It feels more genuine, almost.

And Randy talking about the dream where they're at the beach and Benson punches a shark so hard it dies had me giggling out loud. That's so fucking amazing oh my God. But then Benson says he's never been to the beach........... "Like loss except you never had the thing in the first place. Like realizing maybe you’re supposed to be mourning something but you don’t really know what that something is or why it’s so important." Brb launching myself out of a window ahhhhhhh 😭😭😭

Okay but then Randy starts trying to "convince" Benson to go to the beach with him 👀 👀 👀 Okay. Okay.................... 👀

OKAY I'M DONE NOW LOL THAT WAS A LOT. Fucking incredible work as always my friend. Your fics are always such a treat gahhhhh mwah mwah mwah a thousand kisses for Meg 💕💕💕

folger's, eat your heart out

oh my god this got away from me so bad it's wanted in twelve states. but it's done (is anything ever done) and i'm.......i'm quite happy with it. i really hope you like it.

4.3k words. canon divergence, boys on the run. established relationship. character study, lots of introspection. implied sexual content, nothing too explicit. so much kissing. hand job. light s/m. night terrors and vague mention of canon-typical trauma. mostly soft, so soft. benson is so in love and doesn't know it yet <3

read on ao3 here if that's more your speed.

It’s a Tuesday. Benson knows this because his eyes snap open automatically at five in the morning even though he hasn’t set an alarm in weeks. He opens on Tuesdays, been on that schedule for so long he doesn’t even need the alarm anymore anyways. 

Well, he used to open on Tuesdays. 

He wakes up slow. Gets a savage satisfaction out of being somewhere unfamiliar, revels in it. With bleary eyes he traces the outline of the water damage on the ceiling and it’s different than the one back home. Room smells different too, stale sweat and dust and complimentary green tea bar soap. The mattress is too fucking soft, folds around him like dough. His spine is electric with pain. 

Fuck, he’s getting old. Twenty-nine going on fifty. 

He drags a hand over his face and wishes he could fall back asleep. Not going to happen. Not a chance with this marshmallow bed and the sun popping its stupid Raisin Bran fucking face through the blinds. Benson sleeps dark and cold and silent with his back to the wall. Arms locked in front of his chest like armor. Like a corpse on a slab. 

Or he used to, anyway. 

He can’t feel his left arm. He pushes his chin into his throat at an odd angle to look down at Randy, still asleep, curled up on Benson’s chest like a sandy-colored cat. His hands are tucked together, long, knobby fingers folded over each other, resting in the center of Benson’s ribs. The sun takes each strand of his hair and wraps it in gold, even his eyelashes, laying long and pretty on his cheeks. 

Fuck Folger’s. Nothing comes close to this. 

It’s surreal, still. Being here, being anywhere, together. Like, together. Unbelievable the way he fits so neatly under Benson’s arm. He rests his lips against the crown of Randy’s head. He does it because he wants to, because he can. He inhales slow and deep and he smells warm and bright and a little grimey. Like summer. Like sweat and mud and the most beautiful blue sky you’ve ever seen. Fucking perfect, he’s perfect. 

He's peaceful now, which is saying something. Randy’s a terrible sleeper. Sharing a bed with him is punishing. He thrashes in his sleep, digs elbows into Benson’s ribs and jolts him awake in a panic ready to fight, and then Benson has to stare into the abyss and count to a thousand before he can calm the fuck down and drift off again. 

He never talks about his nightmares. Benson knows he has them, but he knows better than to ask about shit like that. On occasion he’ll wake up to Randy tugging on his arm, pulling it around him like a security blanket. He doesn’t mind that in the least, rolls over half asleep and wraps himself around Randy’s sweat-soaked body. He pins his arms to his sides for both their sakes, buries his face against the back of his neck, and that’s that. Problem solved. 

Benson, on the other hand, sleeps like the dead–save for the nights he wakes up screaming and doesn’t realize he’s doing it. Doesn't even know he's awake until he sees Randy’s face floating above him in the dark, wide-eyed like some twig-limbed owl. Until he feels his hands on his face, wiping salt from his cheeks. 

Shit sucks, because then he has to turn all the lights on and pace the room, chewing on a cigarette and cracking his neck ‘til it's sore, trying to walk it off. Randy sits on the bed hugging his knees to his chest and watches him like a hawk. But he doesn't speak, doesn't try to push it, waits patiently until Benson crawls back into bed and lets him decide where he wants to be. 

He can't stand to be touched during and after those episodes, always hated when his ma would try to smother him when he was still young enough to smother, but funny enough, Randy’s okay. Doesn't seem to count. Maybe it's because he lets him set the pace and doesn't get his feelings hurt when Benson curls up on the edge of the mattress with pillows stacked between them. Either way, most times Benson falls back asleep with his head tucked into the hollow of Randy's neck and those skinny arms slung around his shoulders. And the light on.

The night terrors aren’t new, but it’s been a while since they’ve been this bad. It’s like they’ve worked their way to the surface of his brain. Like a splinter finding its way out of the skin. He doesn’t like Randy seeing him that way, but he can’t really help it. He used to sleep on his stomach with his face in the pillow so he wouldn’t wake Ma and have to deal with her on top of everything else, but he had so many nightmares about suffocating he can't do it anymore. 

But Randy never lets Benson apologize in the morning, insists he doesn't mind being woken up. He's told him that again and again, so often that Benson’s starting to believe him. They’re both fucked in the head just enough that it makes it okay. No hard feelings. 

Last night was quiet for both of them, for once. Benson wishes he was still asleep to take advantage of it, but this is nice too. He can feel Randy’s breath on his collarbone and it’s driving him crazy, a little bit. He’s not used to nice things. He’s always scared he’s gonna fuck them up somehow. Sometimes he wants to fuck them up. Track mud across the carpet, break a dish. Say the wrong thing. Bite down too hard. 

He’s learning how to be gentle. He’s trying, like, really trying. Randy doesn’t make it easy, that’s for damn sure. The way he whimpers when Benson’s hands are on him isn’t fucking fair. The way he bares his throat and gasps and begs. And then he shows Benson the marks afterwards like he’s proud of them, like Benson wasn’t there when he got them. 

“You did a number on me,” he said last night with this sheepish grin, almost giddy, leaning over the sink to look at himself in the mirror. Prodding at the bite mark on his shoulder, the hickies on his neck. Never mind all the shit he couldn’t see from that angle, but Benson saw it. The shape of his body all over Randy’s in bruises. 

Made him feel kinda good and kinda bad, sort of guilty, but then Randy looked over at him with those eyes, hair all mussed, bottom lip cherry red and swollen, and said with unmistakable adoration, “You’re an animal, Bence.” 

Un-fucking-fair. 

But he’s trying, he is. Trying to ease up on the reins. Trying to be soft, because Randy needs soft no matter what he asks Benson for in the dark. He can’t fuck this up. Can’t fuck him up; at least, not any more than he already has. On the list of things he’s ever wanted to fuck up in the world, Randy is at the bottom. 

And it’s good too, the lovey-dovey bullshit. It’s good. It’s great. The way Randy falls asleep on his shoulder halfway through the movie, any movie, no matter how good it is or how loud it’s turned up or how much Benson promised him he was gonna like it. The way he bumps his knuckles against Benson’s when they’re standing shoulder-to-shoulder, just because. Just to touch him. He’ll catch him smiling at him for no reason, all the time, just glance over and there he is looking like they’re on their way to Disney World. No one's ever smiled at him like that. He’s not even doing anything to earn it, he’s just living his fucking life. The fact of his existence is apparently an ongoing novelty to Randy. 

Crazy fucking kid. 

Benson feels like he’s body-swapped with someone on better terms with luck and the skin doesn’t fit quite right but fuck, he’s figuring out how to make it work. He doesn’t get handed things like this. Good things with no strings attached. He’s always kind of on edge, always waiting for someone to break down the door and haul him away. For someone to pause the laugh track and punch through the set. For Randy to suffer a moment of clarity and tell him to go fuck himself. 

He’s never had this kind of good, never expected it. Never really thought he deserved it. And Randy sure doesn't deserve this kind of bizarre sideways bullshit that makes up the best that Benson can offer. He deserves better from him. From everyone. From life. Benson keeps trying to tell him that. 

Too bad he can't quite convince him. Too bad Benson’s selfish and couldn't let go of him if he tried. Wouldn't even try. Wouldn't turn out well. 

He runs his thumb across the angle of Randy's cheekbone, feather-light. He wants to let him sleep and he wants him to wake up and he doesn’t know which he wants more. He draws lines across his cheek, from the corner of his mouth, along the edge of his jaw, carefully, carefully, so gentle his hand shakes. He’s probably never been hit in the face. Probably never had a black eye, broken nose. Shy, scared, beautiful thing. 

There’s been a violence in Benson for as long as he can remember. Bone-deep. And it’s a magnet, pulls other violence right to him like wasps to fresh meat. Sometimes he loves it, sometimes he hates it. He always falls back on it, no matter how hard he tries to leave it behind or wrap it up so tight it can’t get out. He fails again and again. But it doesn’t scare Randy anymore. In fact, it’s like Randy gives it justification. Permission. Validates it. Like maybe it’s hung around this whole time just so Benson could learn how to use it, for his sake. To protect him. At least until he figures out how to protect himself. 

And Randy’s learning, he is. Stands up taller, takes up space. Orders his own food at restaurants. But Benson kind of likes playing guard dog. Likes being needed in that way, and others. Likes being needed by Randy in particular. 

Benson’s already killed for him, so it’s like he’s always trying to find a way to top that. That should be hard, right, but Randy makes it easy. Gets excited over nothing, little shit like finding both their names on some dumb souvenir keychains. Or when he brings him a bag of plain fucking potato chips, his favorite. Or when Benson covers his eyes before the money shot in some gore flick because he’s a pussy and also it dredges up some shit for him that neither of them wants to think about. The way he lights up about that stuff, stupid little stuff, makes Benson feel worthwhile in a way he can’t describe. 

For all he goes on about helping Randy become the best version of himself, the version of himself who’s confident and decisive and knows who Trent Reznor is, sometimes Benson gets the feeling like maybe, Randy’s the one making him better. Not changing him, not really, just…making him kind of okay. Making it all kind of okay. There are so many things Benson’s taken for granted, never thought twice about. About himself, about his life, about where both of those things would end up and how they’d get there. Randy makes him reconsider. Makes it worth reconsidering. 

It feels wrong to stop him. Might as well let him try. What’s it gonna hurt?

Sometimes he wants to laugh in disbelief at it all. Who the fuck is he these days? Going soft right and left and glad for it. He feels like he’s on another planet. Hundreds of miles from home, no phone, no way back. Shooting towards the sun with everything he needs inside his shitty little rocket ship of a car. 

Randy’s a spaceman for sure, no question. Ever since they turned west and hit the desert, he hangs out the window when they drive at night through all that nothing, head craned back to look at the sky. 

“The fuck you think you’re doing?” Benson asked him the first time, when he rolled down the window and started climbing out like a fucking lunatic. 

“Looking at the stars,” Randy said. “There’s so many, Benson…you should look.” 

“No thanks, I'm driving.” 

“I mean…you could stop first.”

“I’ve seen stars, Randy.” 

Randy was halfway out the window so his reply was almost lost to the wind. “Not like this.” 

Benson reached over and grabbed him by the pocket of his jeans. “If you fall out I’m leaving your ass behind.” 

He let Benson pull him back inside then, and stared right at him in this new way of his. This new, brave Randy who had finally shaken some of that paralyzing fear of confrontation and figured out how to be direct. “No you wouldn’t.” 

Benson had looked at him for as long as he could without drifting into the other lane, and then looked at him a little bit longer and had to course correct. “You’re right, I wouldn’t.” 

He’s right. He wouldn’t. 

Benson lets the memory slide away and finds Randy gazing up at him here and now, eyes crusted with sleep. He feels a twinge in his chest like a guitar string being plucked. The whole room is golden now. 

“Morning, sunshine,” he says, and even he can hear the velvet in his voice. Feels self-conscious about it for a second until he gets distracted by Randy wrinkling his nose to stave off a yawn. 

“Morning,” he murmurs, peels his cheek off Benson's chest and leaves a pink circle behind that matches the one on his face. He rubs at his eyes and gives him that dumb Disney World smile. “Sleep well?”  

“Slept great.” Benson swipes away a stray eye booger from the inside corner of Randy’s left eye. “Nice to have one single solitary night where I don't have to fight you to the death.”

Randy bites the inside of his cheek, looks bashful. Benson fucking loves it. “Well, I mean…you wore me out pretty good last night.”

Benson smirks, takes hold of the back of Randy’s neck and pulls him back into his shoulder. “Yeah I did. I oughta do that more often.”

Randy worms his arm beneath the covers and around Benson’s waist and it gives him honest-to-god butterflies. He runs his fingers through Randy’s hair. It's getting fucking long, almost falls past his ears. He keeps asking him to cut it and Benson keeps refusing. It's got this little flip at the ends that he thinks is cute. He bets it’ll grow out into gorgeous fucking waves when it hits his shoulders. 

He takes a fistful and squeezes, does that a couple times before he tugs his head up so they’re nose-to-nose. Randy’s eyelids slide half-closed and his lips part on reflex. 

“What you wanna do today?” Benson murmurs. He can feel Randy’s breath on his chin, licks his lips. 

“...just this,” Randy says, almost a whisper. 

“That’s it?”  

“Yeah.”  

“You’re not bored of this?”  

“No.”  

Benson almost smiles. “Me neither.”

He pushes Randy's head back down into the curve of his neck, rides the swell of satisfaction he gets from his frustrated groan. “Don’t worry, babe, we got all day. How about you, how’d you sleep?”  

“Good.”  His thumb moves back and forth along Benson’s hip and it’s electric, feels like he’s got lightning bolts shooting around under his skin, makes his muscles twitch. He’s still not used to that. Gentle shit like that. “Had a dream about you.”

“No shit?”  He’s not sure anyone’s ever dreamt about him before. He’s kinda flattered. “Was it hot?”  

Randy snorts. “No, it wasn’t…like that. We, uh…we were at the beach.”  

Benson screws up his eyebrows, looks down at Randy. He can’t see his face from this angle. “The beach?”  

“Yeah. We were just, like…there. Just messing around. I mean, there were other people there, but they didn’t…matter.”  

Benson doesn’t know what to make of this. “Huh. That’s it?  Just…beach day?”  

“Yeah. Well, I mean, until the end. A shark showed up and you…punched it so hard that it died.”  

Benson does a genuine double-take. “I punched a shark. And it died?”  

Now Randy twists, looks up at him, smiling. “Yeah. It was awesome.”  

It sounds kind of awesome. Benson pokes him in the ribs. “You’re a fucking dork.”  

“I’m just telling you what happened!”  

“Look, Randy, I’ve never been to the beach, but I’ve seen Jaws about one thousand times and I know for a fact a shark would swallow my ass whole. And it would eat you and not even know that it happened. I’m not saying I’m scared, I’m just saying, don’t count on me to save you from a fucking sea monster.”  

Randy doesn’t laugh and Benson looks at him and he’s making that face, that little frown and the line on his forehead that means that Benson just said something puzzling. Here we go. He tenses up without meaning to, braces for it. Grits his teeth, pops his knuckles. 

“You’ve…really never been to the beach?”  

Fuck, he hates this feeling. Like loss except you never had the thing in the first place. Like realizing maybe you’re supposed to be mourning something but you don’t really know what that something is or why it’s so important. He knows his upbringing wasn’t shit compared to Randy’s, compared to most kids’. He just wishes he could grow out of giving a shit about it. 

So he gets defensive. He always gets defensive. “No, I’ve never been to the fucking beach. What’s so super-duper special about a bunch of sand?  And water that’s mostly fish piss?”  

Randy props himself up on his elbow, leans lightly on Benson’s chest, completely unfazed by his attitude. “Well…let’s go. You can decide for yourself.”  

“To the beach?” Benson says incredulously. “Randy, we’re in fucking New Mexico.”  

“Not–not today.”  Randy waves his hand dismissively. “We can leave tomorrow. Make a beeline for California.”  

And that’s that. The magical realism of the newly reformed Randy Fucking Bradley. No pity. No shame. Just the simplest solution in the whole damn universe. 

“California.”  Benson pictures the Beach Boys and hippies on rollerskates, rolls his eyes. “Sounds dreamy.”  

“It’ll be worth it, Benson, I promise.”  Randy looks at him with those puppy-dog eyes, chews his lip, slides his arm around Benson’s waist. He knows what the fuck he’s doing, the little shit; he’s too smart for his own good. “We don’t have to stay. We can leave as soon as we get there. I just…I think you would like it.” He leans a little heavier against Benson’s ribs, nudges his foot with his toes. “Please?”  

Benson huffs. He’s not a fucking pushover, swear to God he’s not, but it’s like he can’t help but fold these days. He’s gonna spoil the guy rotten if he’s not careful. He has to at least pretend to put up a fight, just to say he tried. “What if I say no?”  

His brow furrows. The puppy-dog eyes flick down to his mouth and back. “Well...maybe I could convince you.”  

One of Benson’s eyebrows pops up. He likes the sound of that. “I’m listening.”  

Randy sits up unsteadily on the marshmallow mattress and straddles Benson’s hips, tucking his hands beneath the pillow on either side of his head. Benson looks up at him, the angles of his face kissed by the sun, and feels a pleasant sort of ache in his chest. It's almost the same feeling as when he finally gave in and pulled over and let Randy sit on the hood, leaned back next to him and looked up at the stars and felt big and small at the same time. 

“It’s amazing, Bence…you can't even imagine.”  His thighs press against Benson's waist, wrists press against his shoulders. 

“Yeah?” Benson licks his lips. His eyes can’t move fast enough, trying to take in every piece of his face, of his body, his name written all over all of it in red and purple. “Tell me about it.”  

Randy's hair is hanging over his face like a messy kind of halo. He peers through it with this earnest intensity, this lion cub ferocity that might be the hottest thing Benson's ever seen. He shifts his weight to one hand and strokes the sensitive spot behind Benson’s ear with his thumb, sends chills spidering across his skin. 

“The smell of the water and–and the sound. You never forget it. And it makes you feel…it’s massive. It’s amazing.” 

“You know what else is massive?”  

Randy stifles a chuckle, looks away, color rising in his cheeks. Benson grins. “Listen to me, Benson.”

“I'm listening!”

“It makes you feel…it makes you feel small, I guess. But not in a bad way. We could just walk around or maybe…swim a little bit?”

Benson pictures Randy with wet hair, dark and wavy, water rolling down his neck. Salt water, salty skin. “Could be nice.”

“We can do whatever you want.”  He curls his toes against Benson’s thighs. “We could get ice cream and sit in the sun.”

The image of melted sticky sugar dripping over Randy’s hand, down his arm, hits Benson like a truck. Knocks the wind right out of him. He thinks about licking it off, watching him suck it off his own fingers. He wraps his hands behind Randy's knees and grips harder than he means to. 

“That sounds, uh…that sounds good. I’m into that,” Benson says and he sounds like a moron in his own ears but it makes Randy smile so it's fine. He can feel the blood rushing away from his brain as fast as it can and he’s about ready to give in and end the discussion. Move on to other things. 

Randy gets that earnest, uncertain look in his eyes all the sudden and touches Benson's face, brushes his thumb across the lines at the corner of his eyes in this foreign kind of way that Benson’s brain registers passively as tenderness, and all the sudden he can't breathe right. His throat’s fucked up like he’s getting sick. He swallows hard. 

“I want to–I want to kiss you in the ocean,” Randy says quietly. “I think…I'd really like that.” 

So now this is the only thing Benson cares about. His number-one goal. A shining and glorious reason to be alive. He’s going to kiss Randy in the ocean if it’s the last thing he fucking does. 

“How about you kiss me right here, huh?”  He cups the back of Randy’s neck and pulls him in, hard, yanks him really, because he can’t fucking help it. Because he wants him right now, right fucking now. 

Randy resists, just a little, on reflex, and then gets overeager and his lips crash into Benson’s, but that’s okay. Randy kisses like he’s starved for it, always, no matter how long they’ve been at it. Even now, first thing in the fucking morning, he opens his mouth expectantly and moans when Benson slips his tongue past his teeth, one hand twisting the sheets, the other gripping his shoulder. He’s greedy, wants more, always more, is done depriving himself after fourteen years of solitude. 

They’re a perfect match because Benson wants to give it to him. Anything he wants, everything, always, no matter where they are or how much skin is showing. He wants to share his space, his spit, his air, his anger, every inch of the car, every inch of the sky. All the bad nights. All the good ones, too. All the golden mornings that come after. 

Benson laps at Randy’s bottom lip, catches it in his teeth and pulls. He digs his fingers into the half-healed shadow of his own hand on Randy’s waist from all the times before, opens his mouth to catch the gasp that wrenches free from his chest and swallows it whole. 

“Benson,” Randy says, breathes his name like an exclamation of wonder. He presses the length of his body against Benson’s, weaves his fingers through the curls at the back of his neck and squeezes tight. He moves his hips in short, subconscious little thrusts, makes a desperate, hungry noise in the back of his throat. Benson can feel him hard against his stomach and fuck, he better pop a handful of painkillers for his back because they’re not leaving this shitty bed anytime soon. 

Randy leans to the side so there’s a little breathing room between them. He runs his hand over Benson's chest, down his stomach, wraps his fingers around his dick and the sound Benson makes is strangled, animal. 

“We can go, right?” Randy says. He strokes him like he can barely contain himself. “We can leave tomorrow?”

Benson arches his aching spine against the bullshit fucking mattress, digs his nails into Randy's back, feels lucky. Feels like a spaceman. 

“Fuck yes. Fuck–yes–you got it, baby.”

Randy lights up and it's like staring into the sun. Transcendent. Fucking beautiful. 

He twists out of Benson's grasp and ducks beneath the sheets and Benson can't fucking stand it. Can’t believe it’s real. He feels weightless, so light he just might end up way out there with all the stars. Nothing comes close to this, never has, never will. It’s not fair. He probably doesn’t deserve it. But no one ever said life was fair, now, did they?  Sooner or later the odds had to end up in your favor.

He closes his eyes and grips the sheets and lets it be, lets it all be for once. Because for once, it's good. He's good. He's great. And they’re leaving tomorrow. For California.

Sounds dreamy. 

tagging a couple friends who have gassed me up and been so patient sdlkfjlsk i just adore you guys <3

@crumb @ace-of-hearts-and-spades @cherubgore

[imagineteller1]

Horror Night

Warnings: language, gore.

Pairings: Daryl x reader x Negan.

My heart felt heavy on my chest. I choked in every breath I took. I watched, what used to be Abraham, crushed in the floor. Everything was ringing. The tears blinding my vision.

Negan talked but I didn't pay attention, I couldn't. He was in front of Rosita, trying to get her to see the bloody bat of the man she loved. In a second, Daryl took a swing at Negan.

"Daryl! No!" I screamed and ran towards him, my hands extended in an attempt to grab him. Before I could reach him, some of Negan's men were already holding me down as well as Daryl.

"No!" Negan yelled pointing his bat at Daryl. "That- oh," he chuckled. "That is a no no. The whole thing, not one bit of that shit flies here." He now kneeled in front of me. His rough hand was pulling on my chin to look up at him. "Brave little thing here, eh?"

I pulled my face away from his grasp. He stood back up. A blonde man held Daryl's crossbow at his face.

"You want me to kill him? Right here?"

"No!" I screamed. Trashing my body in the men's grip, I kicked around.

"Hey! Hey, what part of staying quiet do you not get?" Negan turned to me with his bat.

"Please, please, don't kill him. I'm begging you." I sobbed and I felt like I couldn't breath. My breath was stuck in my throat. I felt like I was having a panic attack. When I started shaking more violently I knew I was. My limbs felt as if they weren't there. I felt heavy but at the same time lite.

I heard Negan say something and then Daryl was thrown back in line. He approached me and kneeled back down. I tried to push the men away but they just gripped tighter. "I c-an't brea-th." I stuttered.

"What did you say again, darlin'"

"I-I can't br-eath." He signalled his men and I was dropped. My palms were on the ground as I tried to calm down. My chest heaved violently as I gasped for air. I felt like I was drowning.

"Holy fucking shit, she is having an attack." He joked.

New tears reamed down my face and fell to the dirt. This could be it. I looked at Daryl. He was looking at me, I saw a tear flow down his cheek. He tried to walked towards me but he was pushed down.

I closed my eyes and tried to calm my breathing. Deep breaths. I could feel the oxygen make its way to my lungs. I heard Daryl's voice telling me to calm down like he had done countless of time, but in difference, he wasn't holding me this time.

After what felt like hours I opened my eyes and felt like I could breathe again.

"Still with us, doll?" Negan asked jokingly. "Both of you are so impulsive, not surprised you two are fucking." He took my face in his hand forcefully.

I glared up at him and he chuckled. "Get her back in line." Like that I was thrown in my back and dragged to where I had been kneeling before.

"Anyway... that's not how it works. Now, I already told you people, first one's free. Then what did I say, I said I would shut that shit down." He had a maniac smile on his face. "No exceptions. Now I don't know what kind of lying assholes you've been dealing with, but I'm a man of my word. First impressions are important." Short silence. "I need you to know me. So, back to it."

In a second Negan's bat connected with Glenn's head. I blinked a few times. Not being able to believe this was really happening. We had just lost two of the strongest men of our group in a couple of minutes. I looked at Maggie and saw her sobbing.

I looked back at Glenn. You could see his skull and one of his eyes was bulging out of its socket.

My heart was beating out of my chest and I could hear every beat thumping.

"Buddy, you still there?" Negan asked mockingly. He muttered something and then exclaimed. "You are trying to speak! But you just took a hell of a hit. I just popped your skull so hard your eyeball just popped out. This is as gross as shit."

"Maggie I-I'll find yo-u." Glenn finally was able to mutter out.

"Oh, hell." Negan spoke. His voice was calm and serious. Like he actually felt sorry. "I can see this is hard, amiga. I am sorry. I truly am. But, I did say..." a smile now played in his lips. "No exceptions." He swinged at Glenn again. I jumped back in place.

No, no, no.

"You bunch of pussies... I'm just getting started. Lucille is thirsty." He kept hitting and hitting. There was nothing left to hit yet he kept swinging his bat. After he got tired he stepped away and joked. "She is a vampire bat."

The only sound was Negan's boot and our cries.

"What? Was the joke that bad?"

Rick looked up from his spot with a trembling yet determined look in his eyes. "I'm gonna kill you."

"What? I didn't quite catch that. You're gonna have to speak up." Negan mocked.

"Not today... not tomorrow... but I'm gonna kill you."

"Jesus," Negan scoffed. "Simon, what did he have? Knife?"

"He had a hatchet."

"Hatchet?" He smiled.

"An axe."

Negan laughed. "Simon, is my right hand man. Having one of those is important. I mean, what do you have left without 'em. A whole pile of work. You have one? Maybe one of these fine people still breathing. Oh, or did I-" he made a clock sound with his tongue.

Rick remained silent. Negan sighed. "Sure, yeah. Give me his axe."

Who I believed was Simon, stepped up with axe in hand and gave it to Negan. He stood up and grabbed Rick by the shoulder. "We'll be right back, maybe Rick will be with me. If not, well we can just turn these people's inside out. I mean, the ones that are left."

With that he shut the trailer's door closed and drove away.

I looked at Daryl. He was shaking. His gunshot wound could get infected with all the trauma his body was going through right now. I went to stand up but was held in place.

"I'm not gonna do anything. You have all of our weapons, what could I do?" I tried to reason with the men.

"You stay on your knees, bitch. Unless you want to end up like your friends over there." He signalled to the bodies that laid on the floor. With a thud I sat back in the ground, pulling my legs to my chest.

--

Hours had passed and the sun had come up when the trailer came back. No one came out for a couple of minutes. The air was full of tension as we hoped to see Rick still alive. When the door finally opened, Rick was pushed to the ground and Negan came out, he dragged Rick back to us.

"Here we are. Let me ask you something, Rick. You even know what that little trip was about?"

Rick remained silence.

"Speak when you're spoken to."

"Okay... okay."

"That trip was about the way you looked at me. I wanted to change that. I wanted you to understand. But you're still looking at me the same damn way... like I shit in your scrambled eggs, and that's not gonna work." He paced around and then kneeled next to Rick. "So... do I give you another chance?"

"Yeah. Yes. Yes."

Patting Rick's shoulder he stood up. "Okay." He chuckled. "All right. And here it is- the grand prize game. What you do now will decide whether your crap day becomes everyone's last crap day or just another crap day. Get some guns to the back of their heads.”

Guns cocked from behind us.

"Good. Now... level with their noses, so if you have to fire..." he imitates an explosion. "It'll be a real mess."

Silence.

"Kid." He said looking at Carl. "Right here." He pointed to the ground beside Rick. Carl was frozen in place. "Kid... now." Carl took slow steps. Negan took of his belt. "You a southpaw?"

"Am I a what?"

"You a lefty?"

"No."

"Good." He smiled as he took Carl's arm and tied the belt around it, cutting the circulation. "That hurt?"

"No."

"Should. It's supposed to." He finished tying the belt. "All right. Get down on the ground, kid, next to daddy. Spread them wings." He took Carl's hat off.

Carl did as told. "Simon, you got a pen?"

"Yeah." He threw it at Negan. He took of the cap with his teeth and kneeled next to Carl.

"Sorry, kid. This is gonna be as cold as a warlock's ballsack, just like he was hanging his ballsack above you and dragging it across the forearm." We all watched in horror as Negan drew a line in Carl's arm. "There you go. Gives you a little leverage."

"Please. Please. Please don't. Please don't." Rick begged.

"Me?" Negan chuckled. "I ain't doing shit." He stood up. "Ah. Rick, I want you to take your axe... cut of your son's left arm off, right on that line. Now I know- I know. You're gonna have to process that for a second. That makes sense. Still, though, I'm gonna need you to do it, or all these people are gonna die. Then Carl dies, then the people back home die... and then you, eventually. I'm gonna keep you breathing for a few years, just so you can stew on it."

"You- you don't have to do this. We understand. We understand." Michonne spoke.

"You understand. Yeah. I'm not sure Rick does." He advertido his attention back to Rick. "I'm gonna need a clean cut right there on that line. Now, I know this is a screwed up thing to ask, but it's gonna have to be like a salami slice- nothing messy, clean, forty five degrees- give us something to fold over. We got a great doctor. The kid'll be fine. Probably. Rick this needs to happen now- chop, chop- or I will crush the little fella's skull myself."

"Please, we all understand. Rick understands. We all work for you, stop this. You don't need to prove a point because you already did." I tried. This was my family. I wasn't gonna stay quiet and not try anything. My arms pointed at the fallen bodies.

I felt a gun press against the back of my head.

"It can- it can- it can be me." Rick stuttered out. "It can be me. Y-you can do it to me. I c- I can go with- with you."

"No. This is the only way. Rick... pick up the axe." Rick didn't move. "Not making a decision is a big decision." Negan's voice raised. "You really want to see all these people die? You will. You will see every ugly thing." He still didn't move. "Oh, my god." He groaned. "Are you gonna make me count? Okay, Rick. You win. I am counting."

"Three!"

"Please." Rick cried out. "Please. It can be me. Please!"

"Two!" He kneeled next to Rick.

"Please, don't do-" Rick sobbed and I looked away.

"This is it."

Rick screamed. I shut my eyes closed. Tears running down my cheeks.

"One!"

"Dad... just do it. Just do it." I heard Carl whisper.

I looked back at the scene.

Rick held the axe high, preparing to cut his son's arm.

"Rick." Negan stopped him. "You answer to me. You provide for me. You belong to me. Right?" Rick nodded hastily. "Speak when you're spoken to!" Negan's voice beamed making everyone jump. "You answer to me. You provide for me."

"Provide for you." Rick answered shakily.

"You belong to me, right?!"

"Right." Rick breathed heavy.

"Right. That... is the look I wanted to see." He stood up and took the axe. "We did it... all of us, together... even the dead ones on the ground. Hell, they get the spirit award, for sure." He sighed. "Today was a productive damn day! Now, I hope, for all your sake... that you get it now... that you understand how this work. Things have changed. Whatever you had going for you... that is over now." He chuckled.

There was a moment of silence before he spoke again. "Ah, Dwight... load him up." He signalled to Daryl who struggled in, who I suppose was Dwight's, arms.

"What are you gonna do to him?" I asked. Trying to sound as strong as I could. Negan turned to me.

"How could I forget about you?" He took long yet calming strides towards me. "You, darlin', are coming with me too."

"Why?" I sounded more panicked than I wanted to.

"Because..." he smiled. "You've got a mouth on you and I really, really like it. Keeps me on my feet. I have a proposal for you..." he waited for my name.

"Lucia."

He smiled and licked his lips. "You hear that, Lucille? They sound similar... okay, Lucia. I have this proposal for you. You come with me, be one of my wives, and I, won't kill another one of your group, for your blabbing mouth. How does that sound, hm?"

Shock was written all over my face. "It's your choice, Lucia. Either you come with me or... I kill another one of your friends. So, what will it be?" He passed his finger along my jawline. I looked at the truck where Daryl was in.

Maybe, if I went with him I could find a way to help Daryl escape. I looked around the group. I wasn't gonna let anyone else die, much less because of my fault.

"Okay." I said. Turning off all my emotions.

"Great." He smiled. "You and I are gonna have a lot of fun together." He licked his lips while scanning my body. "Fan-fucking-tastic. Simon, put her in my truck. I still have some words to say to our new pal Rick."

As Simon grabbed my arm and led me to a truck I looked back and saw Rick watching me. I gave him a slight nod with my head, telling him I had a plan.

I wrote this a some time ago but hadn’t posted it here. Requests are open ❤️

[theworldsoul]

Uhh warning VENT!!! Talks about self harm and shit... also religious bullshit and gender bullshit??? Like I'm really trans and also Catholicism really fucked me up so if ur uncomfy with that just... skip this post. Also if ur Christian and can't handle seeing ur shit defaced then skip this post. Also if ur gonna clown on this post as "cringe atheism" then fuck you because I'm literally coping with pain lol

:readmore:

Anways now that the disclaimer is over... here comes the real shit.

I... have been going through a LOT lately, jesus christ. I was HAPPY today, yknow? I thought I was gonna be happy the whole day.

I was dancing today. That's how happy I was. For the first time in like... a whole year... I was really so happy. I thought I was gonna cry. But then I got home. And well,,,, I did cry. But not from happiness. I just got my math grade back. A fucking 49 percent. MY AVERAGE RIGHT NOW IS A 57 PERCENT. I MIGHT FAIL MATH 20. I MIGHT HAVE TO RETAKE IT. oh my god I'm such a failure I cant do anything ever i try SO fucking hard but honestly??? I cant fucking do this. I can't, I'm not mentally capable. "Just work harder"... BITCH I AM WORKING AS HARD AS I CAN. I AM SPENDING HOURS AND HOURS OF MY LIFE STUDYING AND PRACTICING. I'm starting to think that how hard i try doesn't even fucking matter because I'm STUPID and all i know how to do is PAINT SHIT!!!! NOBODY CARES ABOUT ART!!!! IF I FAIL THIS CLASS I MIGHT NOT BE ABLE TO HAVE A HOUSE IN THE FUTURE!!!! A HOUSE!!!!!

I dont even want to be a fucking orthodontist. Okay??? I wanna do what I love: painting. But NOOOO. I have to get a "respectable" job that will "pay me enough money to live". WHY SHOULD I HAVE TO MAKE MONEY TO LIVE??? WTF??? THATS LITERALLY SO FUCKED UP. everyone deserves to live (unless they like murdered someone? I guess? Idk) BUT LIKE I DIDNT KILL NO ONE SO WHATS ALL THIS BS ABOUT WORKING TO LIVE???? WTF??? I rly gotta do all this shit I hate, all this shit I'm mentally incapable of doing... so i can have a house. Fuck this. Yknow with my average at a 57... I might fail this class even if I get a really good grade on my next quiz. Can you fucking believe it??? I'm literally so fucking stupid I cant even pass a dumb fucking math class god i hate myself. I cant fail this class. I've NEVER failed a class. Almost failed... but never HAD TO RETAKE A CLASS. that's the ultimate failure. I think my parents would hate me if I failed this.

And on top of that... I'm really struggling with uhhh, dysphoria and body image... and it's so fucking horrible man I want to rip all my skin off I want to suffocate god I want to KILL him I want to MAKE HIM SUFFER. I want to gouge his eyes out and force him to eat them. WHY WOULD HE MAKE ME LIKE THIS????? WHY????? WHATS THE POINT IN MAKING A CHILD SUFFER SO MUCH???

What did I ever do that was so wrong I deserved all this punishment???

Well FUCK YOU and fuck your stupid book and FUCK THESE STUPID FUCKING SAINTS. WASNT THERE SUPPOSED TO BE A WHOLEASS ANGEL WATCHING OVER ME?? PROTECTING ME??? WHERE THE FUCK IS THAT BITCH NOW?? WHERE WAS THAT BITCH WHEN... when I was being bullied? When I literally wanted to kill myself?

Where was that guardian angel when I kept making THE SAME MISTAKE over and over again and I KNEW it was wrong but I kept doing it anyways because it was the only way I could feel like soemone cared about me????

I bet that angel motherufcker KNEW they didnt care. DID THE ANGEL EVER ONCE HELP ME??? NOOOO. all those times I was bruised and broken... all those times...

Man, I was just a kid. I was SO fucking young. And I would come like a lamb to the slaughter and kneel. I would pray... ask for guidance. I would pray the rosary too, I would read the bible and try my very best to understand it, I would go to church and volunteer at church and do my best to be a Good Boy and never sin. I did EVERYTHING right. I literally fasted at some point, like a religious fast. I was devoted...

Honestly though? I think it was the same mistake I make over and over again, except not with a real person.

And you have me NOTHING. GO GIRL, GIVE US NOTHING!!!!!!! I literally used to self-punish for the sins I couldnt bring myself to confess. At my communion, there was one sin I didn't tell because I knew it was unforgivable. I still hate myself for that. But man, I used to try and do all sorts of things to somehow cleanse myself of it. I figured THAT whole ordeal was why I was constantly being tortured.

But I was stupid and I am stupid and that makes NO SENSE because if the thing I'm being punished for happened when I was a child, WHY DID THE PUNISHMENT BEGIN AT MY BIRTH????

They used to tell me that god handcrafted every part of me specifically for some sort of grand reason.

Why.

Really? This bitch really "handcrafted" me just so I could cry and cut myself nearly every night??? Fuck that. Like why would you make me this way. It hurts more than you can IMAGINE. The only reason I'm not dead yet is because of ME, MY strength, not any of the bullshit YOU gave me. I hate when people say "oh, god made u so hardworking" or "oh, god made you so passionate/hopeful/full of love/fiery/whatever" LIKE STFU BITCH THAT WAS NOT SKYDADDY THAT WAS ME!!!

you wanna know what he made me?

dysphoric, ugly af, yeah.... but the worst part?

He made me feel.

That doesn't sound bad, right? Well it's the worst thing on the list. It is my downfall, my Achilles heel or whatever. This emotions shit??? It RUINED my life. My whole life I was cursed with a fucking monster inside me. I kept trying to tell everyone that it wasnt me!!! I kept telling them that it felt like I was being possessed. But adults are SHIT. I hate adults. I want to kill them all. They failed me and their god failed me. None of them every listened to me. All they knew how to do was punish, punish, punish.

It's like giving an allergic kid some peanuts and then getting angry at them for going into anaphylactic shock or whatever. Nobody ever thought "hey, why don't we stop giving the kid peanuts?"

ALL THE ADULTS AROUND ME ACT LIKE CHILDREN AND THEY ALWAYS HAVE ACTED LIKE CHILDREN FUCK ADULTS

Anwyays that's how I ended up with all these unresolved issues,.... emotion is a tough one, like I literally dont have the ability to control my emotions at all, I can try and like, repress them but I cant make myself actually feel less.

My emotion hurts more than anyone else's and nobody ever understood that. I would tell them that it hurts, it PHYSICALLY HURTS, and they would say I just wanted attention. I would tell them I literally couldnt control what my body said and did, I would tell them I felt like A PUPPET ON STRINGS and no one believed me. Fuck them.

Healthy coping mechanisms? I literally self ship with Snape to cope. I literally self ship with characters my brain made up and put in my dreams to cope. I used to hurt myself so much trying to feel loved and cared about irl. Fiction is so much better. I sound like a loser but its TRUE. The sort of thing I need, the sort of love I need is like... a parent. You can't go looking for a parent in a romantic partner, it fucks everything up and you end up... well, let's just say it proabbly wasnt the most legal thing, but I wasnt thinking strisght at all I mean dude I was So fucked in my head when I did all that...whatever...anyways so thank u for fiction!!! I love fiction. Want to kill someone? Draw it. Then you'll feel much better!!! And you dont go to jail!!!

Well the pics here... idk, it was really calming to do this. It's new, painting over religious shit. I was gonna do the whole bible but I already burnt that shit so.... and I was going to cut but I'm trying really hard to stay clean... like really hard. It's so weird and like, addicting, once I hit styro I don't want to stop, but also it kinda transfers the emotional pain to physical pain, making it way easier to deal with. I just can't keep doing that because I KNOW it's bad and look I thoguht I was clean for a whole year but then I fucked up and WOW, GUESS WHAT MADE ME RELAPSE??? MATH CLASS!!!!

Whatever anyways here are my wonderful works of art I made while crying and cursing god (like I'm so pissed at all this catholic bs I believed in him again just to swear at him lol)

.... but imagine for a moment, a better world. One in whcih these saints whose images I've defaced are actually good people... a world in which they SEE ME AND THEY HEAR ME... and I go unpunished.... and I am embraced by someone who UNDERSTANDS.

I think I would cry.

Too bad that world doesnt exist and I just made it up to try and feel a bit better. Whatever, whatever. I painted the things, they're gonna dry. I work hard, I'm gonna do good on my quiz, I hope. I just have to be making it through, that's all it is, work work work without a break but I can proabbly do it. I'm really slipping I admit like the mental health is slipping it's getting worse like I havent had a "fuck I am afab" moment in such a long time so yeah...

Anwyays I feel so much better now that I did my little art project yknow???

[ma-gic-gay]

Leaving a former assassin turned mob boss alone with his thoughts and anger about his... Whatever him and Carly are, since that seems to change every ten minutes going through what she went through, is a stupid idea. Especially for two hours.

It's either that or confront the fact they've kissed and had sex in the same 24 hours.

Not exactly the most friendly things to do.

This is exactly what he's not supposed to be thinking about, yet it's what he's thinking about while he's sitting in a chair at the hospital.

Turns out that when he's not doing illegal things, he can actually have time to think and not freak out about the cops finding out what happened. Time to think about them and how he doubts they'll ever go back to normal. A one night stand is one thing, a kiss after you get kidnapped and raped is a completely other thing.

Go figure, the one person who he could willingly discuss this with is the same person who he can't right now.

Maybe talking about this with Sam would work?

Nope, scratch that. Even though she's moved on from their relationship, they're not that close of friends and really only hang out for their kids sake.

If this was a year ago, he'd say he should go to Sonny, since he can't go to Carly about it. But then again, if it was a year ago or if Sonny hadn't vanished, been presumed dead long enough for even Carly to believe it (which meant he, by extension, believed it finally as well), last night never would've happened. Not in a million-

Alright maybe it would've happened but he doubts it. After all, a year ago, he was with Sam and Carly was with Sonny.

Does this count as a betrayal, sleeping with her? Not like conceiving a child on his biological brother's grave with the woman who's the reason he's dead. Or knowing that your best friend is in love with someone but sleeping with her anyways out of horniness.

Maybe he's still a little bit mad about those things.

Or a lot bit mad.

Thinking of all the times Sonny's betrayed him is definitely not helping the fact that anger is just about the only emotion he's feeling right now. Notably, that comes with the exception of confused and that one's only because he's seriously confused about what the hell him and Carly are right now.

Just thinking about what she must be going through right now... It makes him so furious he could take someone out for even mentioning the word. Or something negative even in the slightest bit about her.

That last part might be a telltale sign he needs to do an evaluation of his feelings for her but after this. Probably should right now, but he doesn't want to.

Even the mention of what happened to her, which is spreading through the hospital like wildfire (whoever spread that information first is on his shit list and that is not a good place to be), makes his blood boil.

Cyrus did that to her, he decided to treat her like an object. Like she's some disposable thing, that after he had his fun with her she'll be killed to hurt his business competitor. And the fact that he'd managed to scare her, that he'd managed to do something so difficult he thought it would never happen again unless something happened to one of her kids or him. That part makes him want his head on a stick outside his front door.

And the only reason he did it is to hurt Jason, to make him feel hopeless and in despair and angry and hurt. The only reason she went through that is because of him. That's the worst part, for him, that he's responsible for her going through that, that it's his fault. Even though he knows that's not how it went down, that he's not responsible for Cyrus's actions or her kidnapping and rape, that's sure as hell what it feels like. It feels like everything's getting blurry, like the lines he had drawn in his life are bleeding into each other.

Keep her safe, that was always his number one rule. Even if it meant getting hurt himself (which it normally did), keeping her safe has always been his priority. It's why he tries, unsuccessfully, to shelter her from the mob.

When she needed him, really needed him, he couldn't do that for her. He wasn't there when she needed him the most, when she needed him to save her and get her out of that situation.

No matter how you frame it, what he's doing is beating himself up for something that he knows to be his fault. Maybe if he'd been there, sent someone else to deal with Florence and stayed at the house with her, he wouldn't be dealing with this right now. Maybe then, she wouldn't have been kidnapped and raped.

"Jason?" Britt asks him, noticing he's zoned out. "She's fine. Carly's not pregnant and we gave her a pill just in case to prevent against it. She doesn't have HIV or any other STD's, I ran a full test. As far as I can tell, her uterine health is great right now."

"Thanks, for the update," he thanks her, remembering where he is. "Can I, uh, can I go see her?"

"Yeah, the sedative wore off and she's been complaining and crying for a few minutes. She's in room 3115," she tells him, noting the relief and pain on his face. "You doing okay?"

"What matters right now is whether Carly's okay or not." Jason answers her quickly and his feet take him to the room she's in, somehow. He doesn't even know this hospital that well.

That's new.

"I woke up a few minutes ago and they told me they were looking for you, where were you?" Carly asks, aggravated.

"I was in the lobby," he tells her, wiping away her tears as they come. There's a look of relief on her face through everything, which doesn't surprise him in the slightest.

"Why didn't they let you in before the sedative wore off? I thought I'd been taken again, I was yelling for you," the blonde complains.

"Apparently I'm a hard guy to find."

"You have seven black shirts, seven pairs of blue jeans which you haven't replaced since the 90s, and a leather jacket. That's pretty much all you ever wear. I can't remember the last time you wore a suit. Or a shirt with any color in it at all. How hard could it be to find you?"

"You're just saying that because you always know where I am. It's a sixth sense of yours."

"True. Maybe it's time to spice up your wardrobe with some colorful shirts. We could start with blue and then ease into colors like yellow or white eventually," she suggests cheerfully.

"Carly," he warns. "I like my clothes."

"I know you do, but you need more variety in your life, Jason," Carly argues.

"You keep life interesting enough, trust me," he assures her. "I'm sorry for what happened to you tonight, you know that, right? It's my fault, if I'd gotten there sooner or I hadn't left you alone, this never would've happened."

"No, it's not. Cyrus would've gotten me another way, or he might've gone and snatched one of your kids. Danny, Scout, Jake, they don't deserve that. Neither did I, but if that happened to one of your kids? You wouldn't be able to live with yourself and he could've killed them easier. At least with me, I'm alive. Severely traumatized, but alive," Carly says, hugging him gently as to not hurt herself.

"Yeah but if I'd been there to protect you-"

"Then he would've gotten to you another way or waited until you went to sleep or went back to your dull apartment where the only piece of decor is a moss bowl. I'm a target, alright? We've known this for years, and what happened to me is not your fault. It's as much my fault as it is yours. No one deserves what he did to me, not even that dirt bag himself, and you cannot blame yourself."

"He did this to you as a way to hurt me!"

"And if Sonny were still around it would've been as a way to hurt Sonny. He hates me, alright? Cyrus hates me so much he wanted to hurt me, just as bad as he wanted to hurt you. It's not your fault that he's a monster." She attempts to help him see that it's not his fault, but he doesn't.

"The only reason you know about this business is me. Practically every bad thing you've gone through, Carly, is because of me by extension," he tells her, feeling a tear slip out of his eyes.

"You didn't force me to be a part of the business, Jason. Hell, it was your worst nightmare. I made that choice for myself, to marry Sonny and, when he died, helping you run his territory. I knew the risks and I did it for me, for you, for my family."

"For me?" Jason asks, confused. "How do I factor in?"

"How do you factor in? You're my family and you needed help. Of course I was going to help you! Even when you tried to talk me out of it," the blonde continues, smiling widely.

"That help could've come with Max or Milo or someone else."

"And there's a reason it came in the shape of me. You trust me more than them, even with this business," she smiles.

To be continued when school ends because FUCK IT'S BACK NO

@ryleighjosephine

[dolphin-enthusiast]

Part 13

Oh boy, tw: abuse, curses, family things, starvation, death, the usual.

( I did this in between heatstroke.)

“So I think the reason my hair grew is because my stand’s hair is long. It doesn’t usually grow that fast but it is shiny-” “Guys! There’s a new Italian restaurant here! When do think it open-” “WHERE IS IT!?!” “It says one hundred feet..” “That’s in front of the cemetery... Why would you open a restaurant in a remote place like that? How does it even attract customers?” “Well, I find it nice that people can dine while watching their loved ones.” “IT’S NICE BUT- Not a lot of people think like you, Sky.” “But still, it’s nice to enter a restaurant knowing that most of ingredients in the food won’t kill you.” They begin talking about how hungry they are. And I faint “Sky?!” And I awaken. “I skipped everything today.” “You weren’t hungry?” “No, I was. I’m just broke.” “Josuke, I’m jealous of you! Your hot mom cooks for you everyday!!! I gotta cook everyday by myself, plus I gotta take care of my pops. And Sky!You know how to cook from even the littlest amount of food AND since you’re a mangaka and you’re very pretty, people give you food!” “Alright, let’s go then! I’m just going to accompany you, you brought money with you right?” “I don’t have anything else in my house but money!!” “That sentence gave me more depression, Okuyasu!” “Let’s go! Sky! Bring your list of allergies!” “It’s more like a scroll of ancient wisdom but leT’S GO!!”

We get there and

“I FOUND MONEY!!!! AHAHAH FINALLY!!”

We notice that the menu is up to the person.

“Huh, that’s weird...” “JoJo, a serial killer obsessed with hands could appear and that’d probably be normal in this town’s standards

(Touché me, Touché...)

We enter, it’s weird.

“Josuke, shut the fuck up. If I come here I don’t need to socialize on the way out and that makes me happy. Besides, it could be like a restaurant near my apartment. The cook was the only one there and fewer tables means fewer work.”

“That’s right. I do everything myself here.”

“ODDIO!! MADONNA SANTA!!”

“Welcome, please sit.”

“Before you show us food, I have a scroll of allergies. I can deal with the smell with some mild irritation but if I eat it, I will literally die within minutes.”

And it’s just this long ass list:

•Peanuts

•sea animals with shell in general.(it literally lists the animals.)

•most fish except sweet water ones.

•Milk, but not dairy.

•cherry artificial flavoring

“You poor thing, how did you live like that?”

“Sir, my father starved me, I didn’t live, I survived.”

He introduced himself

“So you’re a foreigner?.”

“Yes. I am Italian. My name is Tonio Trussardi.”

“Wait, I knew I recognized you! I haven’t seen you in so long!!”

“What do you mean? I don’t remember meeting you...-

“Now?” “Wait, Sky?” “YES, I AM!” “It’s been a while!” Okuyasu chimes in “Wait, how do you know each other?” “Mum divorced my dad when I was very young. She then remarried into Tonio’s family. In fact, I was supposed to have a brother with with his blood.” “Can we meet him?” “Josuke, I said supposed to. My dad found out and he did whatever he could so she wouldn’t move on.” “How?” Mum has problems with fertility. I’m a test tube baby.” “What is that?” “Well, it’s in vitro fertilization. Normal babies are fertilized inside of the woman’s body. Me, on the other hand, was conceived thanks to a laboratory, then a whole process happened,and I was put into my mother and by pure luck I was developed. I quite literally didn’t chose this life, this life chose me. My dad,however, did not.” “Same.” “Josuke, your dad didn’t know you existed and I was there when he found out he actually had a son. He was ecstatic. I think. It’s hard to tell, I go blind randomly. Mine, even though he was there, didn’t like me. I was not born because of his love for my mum, but because he wanted American citizenship. He abused me in every meaning of the word, I-I don’t feel comfortable saying more.” “So what was Sky as a child?!” I nod, in defeat. “She always had too much excitement, but a really monotone face. She hanged upside down-

And her nose was a little bit higher.” “Wait, you had surgery?” “No, a girl broke my nose because I called her out and they had to put it in place but they messed up-WE CAME TO EAT, NOT DISCUSS HOW I WAS AS A CHILD NOW LET’S GET SOMETHING.” “So, how’s your mother?” “Mental hospital, my stepdad is nowhere to be found. He calls mum constantly though. And my dad is with his other family. So you’re literally my only family at the moment.” We sit down, Okuyasu asks for a menu. Tonio responds by saying there is no actual menu. He states that he will determine what he makes for the customer based on his observations. He noticed how fucked up Okuyasu was and next it was me. “You didn’t sleep at all tonight since you forgot to take your pills, you haven’t eaten a proper meal in a while, your Tourette’s is controlled as your tics indicate but you went too far with one and dislocated your shoulder too far-” and one tic I recently acquired, moving my head foward slightly, just activates, happens once and stops(tics are involuntary movements caused by conditions.) Just like when you were little, happens with mention. ADHD is fine, depression is not too serious, anxiety and PTSD in control, still both dyslexic and dysgraphic, you accidentally cut your wrist moving your favorite knife and it looks like you did it on purpose, you tripped and hurt your ankle-” “Listen, we both know that I have a lot of problems and you and I both know that what you’re saying is destroying what little self esteem I built up. I only have 3,500 yen I found randomly, my service dog Iggy is in my bag, don’t worry, I washed him before leaving, you know that because of every scratch, he doesn’t shed and he’s in a special bag so don’t worry about the germs or him. He’s fine. I have holes so he can breathe. And I’m not saying this to be mean. I truly appreciate you, but I will maim you out of instinct if you don’t stop and we both know that. I’ve done it before.” “That’s true, you broke my arm once.” We nod “Some juice would be nice.” Tonio heads for the kitchen to start preparing the meals. As Josuke tries to convince us to leave the restaurant should the food taste bad, Okuyasu takes a sip of water and states that he has never tasted water so good before. I take a sip of mine. Okuyasu begins to cry, asking for Josuke's handkerchief. After a time, Okuyasu can't stop himself from crying to the point where his eyes began to deflate. Tonio explains and then Josuke says “And what about Sky?!? She’s the sweetest, most loving person I’ve ever known and the poor creature is in constant agony!! ” “We both know that her insomnia is too deep. And it’s trauma based so I can’t do anything about that.” He whispers to Okuyasu and Josuke’s ears. “If you love her as much as you show, you’d realize that I know her a lot. You two loose sleep because of her, don’t you?” “It’s ok, JoJo. You learn how to ignore it. I basically don’t feel it anymore.” Okuyasu finally stops crying and mentions that his sleepiness is gone and that he has never felt better. Tonio has already prepared the next meal for Okuyasu, a mozzarella and tomato salad.

Part 14. Soon

[janiedean]

Reading the JB + stump meta, I felt there could be so much to unpack also about gender/roles in Westeros, there. J not being (a) "whole" (man) bc he thinks he can't *fight* or *have sex with a woman* without his right hand, C thinking he could only "fumble at" her and downgrading him from ideal lover/"me as man" to "undesirable servant I'll let fill my cup", B still seeing him as fighter *and* attractive + wondering if he'd like her to be soft and helpless even while playing knight to his DID..

man you’re opening the hoover damn here if you want to talk to me about jaime and brienne’s gender roles reversal X°DDDDDDD ANYWAY SINCE YOU SO NICELY ASKED

first, as my bro @ofwickedlight​ has pointed out here and here jaime is actually pretty.... not toxic-masculine for westeros standards actually all the contrary, and he already doesn’t have the notions about women being supposedly inferior that most other people have (I’m referring you to those metas because they explain it better than I could here), so we’re already discussing someone who technically is starting from a better vantage point when it comes to deal with that notion

now, going on each specific point you said...

jaime:

as far as jaime is concerned his problem isn’t specifically tied to his lack of masculinity attached to the hand but the hand itself in the sense that if he was born to be a warrior taking it from him is basically taking his main source of pride/joy from him and it makes him useless on his job since it’s being in the *kingsguard*, and given that he can’t be with cersei in public of course he makes up for it with his chivalric prowess... which he doesn’t have anymore. like, that is a self-esteem blow of epic proportions because if he doesn’t have that then he has nothing else going for his supposed usefulness (and mind how he keeps himself alive also thinking he’ll see cersei again because that makes him feel like he can survive another day - if he doesn’t have his skills he’ll have the woman he loves/who loves him, right?) and he has to command the kingsguard without what makes him a knight and so on. now, the thing is that he has to eventually find out that he can fight and have sex and so on also without the right hand and that doesn’t define him whatsoever, but that doesn’t matter because the way he processes things as I said in that other post, he equates feeling good with both sex and sword fights, so taking his ability from one also might mean taking away the other and guess what, if you don’t count the sept sex, he and cersei haven’t really... DONE ANYTHING that’s not her trying to have sex with him and him refusing her when he realizes she’s disgusted since then, which could cement it. but it’s not that it makes him feel like a woman in a derogatory sense, it’s mostly about him feeling like he doesn’t have anymore what makes him good at his job or makes him cersei’s mirror, and mind that until he meets her again and it goes like shit he’s subconsciously aware that she wouldn’t like it if he looked different from her:

The reflection in the water was a man he did not know. Not only was he bald, but he looked as though he had aged five years in that dungeon; his face was thinner, with hollows under his eyes and lines he did not remember. I don't look as much like Cersei this way. She'll hate that.

now, if she loves him that much, should she give a damn? yeah, my point exactly. and while he tells himself that he has to go back to her, he knows subconsciously that she would hate for him to be back changed enough that she can’t recognize herself in him, which should already suggest a lot. but we also have another thing on the other side of the barricade, ie when he asks after brienne when qyburn’s treating him:

"I will ask after her. What is this woman to you?""My protector." Jaime had to laugh, no matter how it hurt.

and okay, he finds it hilarious for obvious reasons, but he doesn’t go and think it’s ridiculous. actually, he is the first one who says she’s his protector. AND, in the tub:

"Does the sight of my stump distress you so?" Jaime asked. "You ought to be pleased. I've lost the hand I killed the king with. The hand that flung the Stark boy from that tower. The hand I'd slide between my sister's thighs to make her wet." He thrust his stump at her face. "No wonder Renly died, with you guarding him.”She jerked to her feet as if he'd struck her, sending a wash of hot water across the tub. Jaime caught a glimpse of the thick blonde bush at the juncture of her thighs as she climbed out. She was much hairier than his sister. Absurdly, he felt his cock stir beneath the bathwater. Now I know I have been too long away from Cersei. He averted his eyes, troubled by his body's response."That was unworthy," he mumbled. "I'm a maimed man, and bitter. Forgive me, wench. You protected me as well as any man could have, and better than most."

now, I think people wrote novels of meta on here but for my purposes, note that first he thinks the sight of the stump distresses her when instead she’s most likely skittish because she’s bathing naked with another naked guy and from someone who thinks she’s ugly/undesirable, bathing naked with someone else is exactly the kind of thing that’d make you skittish, so it wasn’t the stump, then he tells her everything he did with it and she doesn’t care, and she only jerks up when he mentions renly and her failure to protect him, not before. THEN he gets hard looking at her and he’s... I mean, you can see that he has a pretty fucked up conception of sexuality if he thinks ‘okay I’ve been too long away from c.’ then ‘oh fuck she’s making me hot’ when she gets him hard, but never mind that. also, he’s troubled by his own body’s response which is what a fifteen year-old guy would even think and he feels halfway guilty for having felt attracted to someone else which again, he has a fucked up conception of sexuality, but never mind that, what does he say to apologize? ‘I’m bitter and you did a better job than most would have,’ ie: men, and he’s aware that she basically kept him alive throughout that entire thing and doesn’t think she’s lesser for it, all the contrary.

tldr: jaime himself doesn’t see his own condition as ending up in the damsel’s position as demeaning nor has any problem seeing brienne as someone who can and will do what most men would, and has no issue whatsoever with the idea of her protecting him, which is why I keep on saying that we’re in full on reverse gender-coded territory here and that jaime can’t give two fucks about it - he doesn’t, but because he’s gone outside gender norms when he was young and has no technical issue with the idea of women not being inferior and so on (and he also gives zero fucks about how you look, see tyrion), but at this point he doesn’t have the scope to see the entire situation and he has no idea of that nor that he might actually be having feelings when it comes to brienne because again, he’s spent all his life 100% convinced that he and c. are a package deal;

and count that we’re talking about a guy who romanticizes everything he touches to insane degrees - knighthood, his sister, his family and so on - and that when seeing that it’s not the case reacts seriously badly, *but* his relationship with brienne is pretty much devoid of it because when they met they didn’t like each other and he didn’t exactly put her on a pedestal, she earned it in his eyes same as he earned his place in her chart of people she actually admires/loves.

the rest is under the cut because this got long bye.

cersei:

I’ll try to keep this short and objective lest people decide I need to chill (*rolleyes*) but as you said, the thing is that again: cersei wants herself in a male body because she wishes she was born a guy so she could be in the position she yearns for ie tywin’s heir. period. jaime’s needs or personality or whatever matter zero to her but until he thinks they want the same thing then it’s all I’M NOT WHOLE WITHOUT HIM. except that (affc quotes):

"Fool. No one who wears a crown is ever safe." She looked about the hall. Mace Tyrell laughed amongst his knights. Lords Redwyne and Rowan were talking furtively. Ser Kevan sat brooding over his wine at the back of the hall, whilst Lancel whispered something to a septon. Senelle was moving down the table, filling the cups of the bride's cousins with wine as red as blood. Grand Maester Pycelle had fallen asleep. There is no one I can rely upon, not even Jaime, she realized grimly. I will need to sweep them all away and surround the king with mine own people.

"You were better, before you lost your hand. Ser Barristan, when he was young. Arthur Dayne was better, and Prince Rhaegar was a match for even him. Do not prate at me about how fierce the Flower is. He's just a boy." She was tired of Jaime balking her. No one had ever balked her lord father. When Tywin Lannister spoke, men obeyed. When Cersei spoke, they felt free to counsel her, to contradict her, even refuse her. It is all because I am a woman. Because I cannot fight them with a sword. They gave Robert more respect than they give me, and Robert was a witless sot. She would not suffer it, especially not from Jaime. I need to rid myself of him, and soon. Once upon a time she had dreamt that the two of them might rule the Seven Kingdoms side by side, but Jaime had become more of a hindrance than a help.

like: the moment he tells her ‘cersei you’re fucking up’ and actually tries to counsel her, after he loses the hand, he becomes.... MORE OF A HINDRANCE THAN A HELP. like. I need to rid myself of him. that’s.... not exactly what you think of someone who’s your other half or should love no matter what. and as you pointed out, the moment he loses the hand she basically downgrades him because he can’t be the man she wants to be and who cares about what he needs or wants, that’s not even taken into consideration. and tbh in that moment cersei is being more pro-reinforcing gender roles than she’d like to think because the moment he loses the hand (which makes him her male counterpart too, and one who can defend her in time of need like no one else could) and shows that he has a personality that’s, surprise!, not hers, she has no use for him anymore. also counting that cersei is the incarnation of internalized misogyny the whole thing certainly doesn’t go in her favor. and she’s actually pissed off he doesn’t fill her cup and throws it at him while full of wine later but never mind that, the thing is that for how much she hates men for holding her down as a woman she does the exact same thing to anyone else she can get away with including jaime, and that’s not loving someone back regardless because they’re your other half which is what jaime desperately wants instead. like jaime’s entire system is built on the idea that he loves her but she loves him back, and when he finds out it’s not the case, well, friendly reminder he did burn that letter and is trying to put himself back on track;

also: count that she dreamed THEY’D RULE THE SEVEN KINGDOMS, but jaime could have ruled the seven kingdoms when he killed aerys and when ned went inside the room he basically went and said OH HEY HELLO YOU’RE JUDGING ME TOO BAD BUT YOU WANT THAT THRONE? YOU CAN 100% HAVE IT BYE. like. it’s her dream. it was never his and she doesn’t even realize that, which says all about how much she’s aware of his emotional needs but nvm that.

brienne:

this one is the most complicated to unpack imo but that’s because brienne is in the sort-of-unique position of being the only one in between the two of them who manages to go past gender roles completely but actually doesn’t necessarily relish it;

as in: a lot of people assume that brienne wants to be a knight because SHE WANTS TO DO MEN THINGS but no, brienne wants to be a knight because a) it’s the job that better suits her built, b) it allows her to not being stuck at home in a role she hates surrounded by people who make her feel inadequate, c) it fits with her ideas about honor and allows her to have a chance at good things. as in, her key quote in acok was:

"Because it will not last," Catelyn answered, sadly. "Because they are the knights of summer, and winter is coming.""Lady Catelyn, you are wrong." Brienne regarded her with eyes as blue as her armor. "Winter will never come for the likes of us. Should we die in battle, they will surely sing of us, and it's always summer in the songs. In the songs all knights are gallant, all maids are beautiful, and the sun is always shining."Winter comes for all of us, Catelyn thought. For me, it came when Ned died. It will come for you too, child, and sooner than you like. She did not have the heart to say it.

now, this is basically telling you black on white that brienne would rather live in a song where the sun is always shining, if you die it’s okay because people will remember you, the knights are never not gallant (like the ones that she had to fight off all her life), the maids are beautiful (like she’s not) and everything is always better than in real life, and in this sense meeting jaime basically strips that from her but not enough. in the sense that he makes her realize that reality and songs don’t go well together, but it doesn’t mean she won’t keep trying to behave the way a proper knight should, which is what she does through all of affc;

but brienne also fell for renly when they danced together (DANCING ie what ladies do) and she was wearing a dress and he was basically nice to her while letting her be feminine for once, brienne admires cat for having a woman’s strength and brienne is entirely down with protecting also women along the road and so on, so like... brienne doesn’t hate feminine things, she just doesn’t partake in them because a) she’s better at being a knight which is sadly a man’s job in westeros, b) everyone made fun of her whenever she tried which then added to her overall self-esteem issues;

now, brienne’s basically going around westeros risking her neck to do knightly things even when as a woman it’s 100% more difficult than it’d be if she were a man and taking on that role, but when she wants to weep on jaime’s shoulder she’s basically saying she wants to be vulnerable with him like the soft helpless maidens she’s not like, and guess what, he did that with her when he told her about aerys pretty much, but again, brienne has no preconceived notion of gender roles blocking her because she doesn’t hate the female-coded ones but has taken on the male-coded ones her entire life because she either had to or felt called to or felt more at ease with them;

so like, jaime gives zero shits that she’s defying them and that makes him look even better/more appealing to her because he’s the only man who took her seriously *for real*/for herself and not for how useful she could be. also, as much as some people would like to say she’s not brienne, being a woman into guys, definitely noticed that he’s attractive (the white cloak becomes you + half a corpse and half a god, HMMM) and like, of course she’s into him, but the thing is that on one side she’s bent on being his knight because he trusted her with it and she swore to protect him (before he sent her off), on the other she sees him as the only male candidate who - having come back for her in the bear pit - she could allow herself to be feminine/vulnerable with because that was the only time in her life she actually was the damsel and not the knight.........and he did it without the hand, so the thing is that to brienne he was the knight in not so shining armor (or armor, period), when he jumped into the bear pit without a weapon or anything else to save her life after coming back for her which no one has ever done before, actually until then she has fought off everyone for herself (ronnet connington/hyle and the other guys). so like.. to brienne, his most heroic moment is when he tries to save her without the hand, so she couldn’t link that loss to his supposed lack of masculinity or skills or heroism because he didn’t need that hand to save her;

also I would like to point out that it’s fairly telling that in affc on one side he punches in the teeth the guy that ruined her self-esteem for good and disrespected her so much that when she has the fever nightmare she sees him and wishes jaime was there and would come back for her, while on the other she kills (and fairly bloodily/not gallantly) both timeon and shagwell (who btw had been especially creepy to jaime in his asos povs) thinking that she’s doing it *for* jaime as well and of course none of them knows what the other is doing in this sense. but like, brienne’s literally going knight in shining armor on him to the point where she’s willing to die for him (and that’s why I’m 100% convinced she kills LS to save him doing also the aerys parallel) and she has no issues with that because that’s what she’s good at.... same as he has no issues with it because he 100% accepted that she can do that job and has done it for him better than most people would have. and at the same time she also sees him as someone who would or might let her be also soft and helpless while he sees her as *gentler* than his sister and trusted her with his most well-guarded secret after she literally kept him alive when he was sure he wouldn’t make it. and the hand, to her, matters absolutely nothing.

like, that is why I think that jb is a case of continuous gender role reversal in which he’s coded as the DID 90% of the time and she’s coded as his knight 90% of the time but switch places for that other 10% of the time to a point where they’re basically well outside gender roles both in westeros terms and modern terms (tbqh that too) but it works perfectly for them. like, the point with cersei is that, for as much as she thinks she’s not, she’s *completely* stuck into the westeros gender roles structure and can’t get out or maneuver around it the way cat did or genna did or other women try to because she wants to have the same power men have without beating around the bush and will stick to it and cares for having power more than anything else and works for that. on the other side brienne has been outside gender roles all her life and can’t give two fucks about it even if she suffers for being denied her feminine side, and jaime has seen enough to know that gender roles are bullshit and women aren’t lesser than he is and also mostly wants to have his emotional needs met which he hasn’t had since forever. which is why jb matches perfectly in that sense, because he wouldn’t mind being with someone outside gender roles who gets him and she needs someone who’ll have her exactly the way she is and be into her regardless of her look or her working outside the norms and who would let her also be soft and helpless if she needed it. and that works for them because they could and would and have been that person already, except that they haven’t quite realized it because they’re two assholes who are shit at understanding their own feelings. and that is also why cersei and jaime post hand-loss can’t work, because she needs someone who’s her and looks like her and wants what she wants and jaime does not and never has.

/peace