What's up!! OnlyFans | Patreon | My Face Ahhh yes, the typical retro home of a not so popular, not so funny former fan fiction writer. Here you will find a myriad of riduclousness sprinkled in with the occasional implied nude.. just to keep things weird! I mostly follow anyone who is active, over 21, and shares a similar interest. Note: My original Tumblr, 'thegreatlarryfisherman/jaseminedenise' was nuked in mid 2023. Which was probably a good thing.
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Fortheloveoffisherman - MDF | Dark Romance Since 2005 - Tumblr Blog
Me, respectfully, whenever I scroll through the dash and see my mutuals posting ass and tiddies
Temple on Tuesday: subject protocol
“Ask and you shall receive” or whatever that kind spouts off in the mist of mediocre battle. It is useful. Not too many people can be this proud. Consider this an installation of pattern recognition software and at the same time, consider it what the fuck it is. A blessing that is only received if carried out.
Things like this require more than work. They require continued effort and genuine commitment. Introducing into theory, “storyline” as a concept. Albeit borrowed, and despite lack of enthusiasm, the decision is pretty much unanimous.
“I need to swap storylines.” Is better than “I want to take away any opportunity for relief, for any joy ever again:” the difference is only as subtle as anyone paying attention. Spoiler: anyone is you.
When it flows, when you find the ability to apologize and synergize , when you can overcome the need to always be right, you become easier to connect to. You won’t have to keep going on tangents over explaining why you need to be connected to more than you want to be connected with. Communication is a practice and trauma pretends to dictate that it knows how much someone can and can’t handle the capacity to be around you. Acceptance isn’t a problem but communicating on a time limit is?
There won’t be need for be a need to be talked over. Because being heard won’t need to be taught. It’ll be felt. Until then, there’s no shame in going back and forth with someone who has the patience when they do. You are not the same overindulging child you were ten years ago. You’ve evolved which makes the learning curve seem as though it would still remain as easy as “this is the answer.” In reality, right is right. But you’re not always right. You’re not always wrong. You very much may be.. in the middle of a teachable moment that can’t be revealed in words.
There is no limit but also fearing lifespan is far more ridiculous. Convincing people to feel the thing that you hold and then convincing yourself it’s intangible because others are blind will kill you. Consideration for self is key. Consideration of.. others is subsidiary and not selfish. No human being has a clutch on this.
Your new story line.
Be your first.
your friends & partners will actually love it if you enforce your boundaries b/c then they will never again need to guess if they're ever making you uncomfortable & don't know. healthy living tip :)
Psalm 40:10 (NLT) - I have not kept the good news of Your justice hidden in my heart; I have talked about Your faithfulness and saving power. I have told everyone in the great assembly of Your unfailing love and faithfulness.
I just wanna cover my feelings up with tattoos tbh
Vitality // the codex /
(I’ll “tag” this properly when I’m not building a blanket fort in the backseat.)
You stared at the frame of your baby. Sitting next to the infamous Winchester impala, you were a scrub in comparison. Your baby has gone through literal hell and back and though it very much looked it, you were proud.
“A beauty.” You heard his voice as he walked around the car. You forced yourself to reject the flashback of the day he’d gone with you, in complete stealth mode to get your tires fixed.. how envious it was that an ex lover had access to your tire size. You shook your head and started back into the foyer of the bunker.
“Dean. I’m just saying.”
“I can stand to read a book or two. Look Sam, I didn’t even want Castiel flapping his fucking feathers in my face.. the last thing I wanna do is be swept up in your..” he waved his hand indicating he wouldn’t say more.
“But. If it helps, is it not.. worth it?”
Dean sighed. Sam was right. You’d been completely off the rails lately. Each hunt becoming much more physically taxing on you than the last. Sure, seeing you hunt at all was an honor and an art form.. but as selfish as it was, he was sick of the mourning. He wanted what he knew best.. his favorite choice hunting partner with the lethal draw. Still.. even he was exhausted of watching you battle with all of it.
“What?” He glared at his brother.
“So—“ Sam slid into the closest chair, his fingers gently holding the leather bound book underneath him. “They don’t need validation. They don’t.. when I said praise. I was thinking, compliments.. good job.. you know?” Sam’s perplexed face almost made you roll your eyes from your hiding place.
“Yeah, you pissed her off real good with that one.” Dean smirked over the lip of his beer.
“I know.. but it’s because I had it wrong. She recharges when others preen.” Sam paused for a moment, waiting for Dean to show a level of interest but was instead pinned with a glare.
“So the.. foundation of it, is her energy force, is when a human is.. happy. Unintentionally.”
“So we fake happy to knock her health bar back up?”
“I don’t know.” Sam shook his head. “No one has ever documented like.. the details.”
“So it could be made up.”
“Or no hunter has lived long enough.”
You stepped away from that, catching raven hair disappearing down the hall in your peripheral. After careful decision making, you simply retired to bed.
//
Waking up, you could smell the unholy smell of aftershave. You hear a soft hum and roll over to look at the clock. 2am. Why are your senses heightened. You can feel the flesh torn into your back underneath your skin.. something had reached your grace.
With shy bare feet, you’re floating into the hallway with curious eyes. Maybe you’re hungry. It’s been months and you haven’t quite gotten down what’s your hunger and his greed. Most mornings. You feel Dean checking in before he’s physically even awake yet. Today, you’re unusually, empty of the extra feelings.
But you feel something. A buzz. Happiness threatening to burst. You feel like a thousand puppies dancing at once. It’s the highest you’ve ever felt.
The sight materializes through the wall before you approach the source of your thoughts. Sam is in the bathroom shaving. One whiff tells you it’s a familiar scent to him.. a happy memory. Hopelessly, you sigh. Happy memories were hard to come by. Uncontrollably, your body is in contact with the wall, feelings screaming inside of you.
Suddenly, the door opens and Sam pokes his head out, beard trimmed and the toothbrush hanging from his lips.
“Y/N?” He asks as he steps toward you and the lights around you flicker. “What are you doing up this late?”
You can’t speak. It’s unusual he could even summon a sentence, when you’re in this life form. You even wonder if you’re talking when you feel a hand on your shoulder and your entire body practically shrink into itself.
“You okay?” Dean asks. You look at him, and you can feel your own smile.
“I’m fine. Sam that aftershave smells divine.”
“Yeah?” Sam smiles harder than you’ve seen ever. “Smells like..?”
You took another whiff and it’s as if someone has opened a window and let the fresh air in. You try and fail not to bask in it. The smell of your dad’s old car after John got out when your eyes were too tired open. The smell of a goodbye hug and a promise you’d see your two favorite brothers again if you just held on to the next hunt.
Immediately, pain seers into your eyelids and you collapse, Dean immediately rushing to catch your fall.
Flashes of danger flip through your mind like a comic. Street signs. Blood. Black eyes.
“Demon.” You blurt out and Dean cast a frantic look on Sam. “Forty miles. West. One. Two civilians. You’ve got about five hours.”
With those words, your body collapses. Sam slowly crouches down, can hear your breathing and looks over at Dean. “You think she’s okay?”
“No. I think preening is like a freaking Bat symbol to these.. to her.” He pulled back a strand of your hair, not vocally expressing to Sam that he’s checking for any single evidence of the pain that came with what he couldn’t see.
“So I shouldn’t be happy around her?”
“You pick your battles.” Dean’s response is Ahard. “The same thing that charges her could be the same thing that strips her vitality. Not everything in the lure should be an automatic experiment. She’s human Sammy! Not a test dummy for your Nordic fantasies.”
“Thank you.” Came the faint whisper from the shaking frame between them.
“Come on.” Dean hoists you up with little to no effort. “Hell are you doing wondering around with no blanket?” Too weak and still trying to take the smell of the aftershave with you, you simply cuddle his chest tighter and let him carry you back to your room.
Maybe Sam was right. Maybe you just had to learn to live with the powers you were given. Even if preening was a word you had to remember to look up in the dictionary in the morning.
8:45 am
“Please remember. That I never lied. And please remember how I felt inside now honey.”
I give up.
This morning, I’m violently shaking and clinging to a toilet bowl as it drags my stomach acid out for the fifth time in forty eight hours. I’ve finally mastered the art of not making that phobia anyone’s problem. That agonizing dead feeling intermingled with that used to be stupefying anxiety is simply “oh. There I am again. My own body rejected me.”
I summoned all of my energy to take the advice of the therapists and try to talk to my “support system” and gain some emotional support. It’s so crazy to have heard “the hospital is not what you need. You need emotional support and unconditional level. People who are willing to care for you.”
And then to step out in the real world and rip myself bare for that. Beg. And be told, people don’t do that anymore. It’s too difficult. Everybody has their own thing going on but “they can make time eventually.” I’m not even trying to force people to do something they can’t and won’t. I just wanted it to matter. 7 minutes is as far as I got, and like a match.. I spent 7 minutes, clutching it.. hours later, like I do every night and still got up and did everything anyway. I always do, right?
Eventually is too far.
I’ve lived through a broken heart and mountains of grief and have been fine. This was a cruel awakening for me that I consistently sit for hours and try to shake myself out of. This physically hurts. This psychological tortures me so hard I can’t see myself. I live in the shadow of “delusions” that are all I have, your smile when I manage to crack a joke. Your rage when people talk over me, and you have to pull me back because I’m so quick to say “no”, and you’re quick to say, “stop talking. You’re wasting your breath and you know it.” I’m the one who sees the good, who insists on trying, who truly felt I still had people I could count on to be by my side. To help me fight the same demons I’ve lured out of others with patience and precision, intent to kill.
I finally give up. I’m finally done trying. I finally realized that I’m not worth the breath it takes to say any of the words that should be said when your friend is fighting demons and trying to stay here. It doesn’t matter. All the words don’t mean shit. It’s easier to pawn the struggle onto anyone and anything else.
I’ve always been so eager to please and loud to live. I woke up this morning, 30 days from last time with that hollow feeling in my chest. I guess I’m really gone this time and no one is gonna notice or care. It’ll just seem normal. All I can do at this point is stop talking. Accept reality.
I used to cling to this shred of dignity that no matter how mad it got, at least people would gather and say words at my funeral.. and I used to fantasize about hanging around hearing it all.
I don’t want a funeral. I don’t want a bunch of people to sit and pretend like I wasn’t in their face in my last days begging for the same thing I’ve done time and time again.
It’s too hard with me.
What was I thinking? And why did I save “hey come show me the truth,” until the moment everyone looked at me and said “you gotta do it yourself.”
The sentence is so right unfortunately.
I don’t want anyone to get to mourn me. Not while I was right here and everything else was easier. Not after the buckets I sobbed in people’s faces. I don’t fucking want another chance for people to lie to this corpse.
I give up. Admission granted.
I said.. I have an idea!
Mark him down as scared and horny.