hellkitten-a-blog

[hellkitten-a-blog]

i have moved blogs!

i’m @hellkitten now. i’m not following anyone first so you have an easy out if you want it? but in light of. marble’s recent nonsense, i just. had to. and you are more than welcome to join me.

[hellkitten-a-blog]

i have moved blogs!

i’m @hellkitten now. i’m not following anyone first so you have an easy out if you want it? but in light of. marble’s recent nonsense, i just. had to. and you are more than welcome to join me.

[hellkitten-a-blog]

and always be that safe and serene and carry little cards that say ‘untitled’

         ( safia jama. )

[hellkitten-a-blog]

hi im panicking i’m 7 dollars in the red on my bank account from holds on money for food and if i dont pay this off immediately i’ll add 30 dollar fees every week. please please please help me my paypal is hghars@aol.com 

[hellkitten-a-blog]

foxdies:

writing a new post because the other is a bit dated now. 

hi, my name’s danny, i’m trans, mentally ill (bipolar, anxiety, depression), physically ill, and living in an abusive household. i dont get to eat as much as i should be eating due to government fund cuts (our foodstamps and my benefits, specifically, which have been completely taken from me). not eating is bad for both me and my dad, as i have POTS syndrome, endometriosis, and borderline diabetes, and my dad has heart problems and diabetes. 

i was going to go to new york this month for school and was denied the final thing i needed to attend: the last loan which would have covered my price completely. there’s no supplement available that could have covered the price so i was forced to withdraw and i’m being forced to stay with my dad for another 4 months to a year, i dont know, i have to look into local enrollment and see when that opens.

so as a result, i’m still not eating, i still don’t have food. if you have any spare cash you can comfortably give, my paypal is hghars@aol.com and i have a google wallet, that email is samthebravehobbit@gmail.com. if you want a doodle or graphics in return, please contact me to work out a price.

graphic example, art examples. 

hi, um, while this is still a concern for me, my biggest concern right now is transitioning. i need like 11 thousand dollars, the only surgeon in my area charges 10,880.  while i highly doubt anyone here can accumulate even a scintilla of that, if every person following me was able to spare 10 dollars, i’ve have 800~ shy of what i need. and that’s ENORMOUS. 

if you can spread this – to people who might be able to – that would mean. everything to me. i’ve hit a breaking point with my transness; our state rescinded trans health care so i have no other options.

[hellkitten-a-blog]

Shout out to south Asians

Shoutout to the south Asians who never see any representation for themselves, or any positivity Shoutout to the south Asians who feel excluded from POC and desi spaces Shoutout to the queer and questioning south Asians, especially those in environments where it’s unsafe to come out Shoutout to dark skinned south Asians who face colourism daily Shoutout to the mentally ill south Asians who aren’t allowed or supported in receiving medical help Shoutout to the south Asians who are body shamed by their own families Shoutout to the south Asians who are victims of abuse and assault and are shamed for seeking help Shoutout to the cross-cultural south Asian youth who aren’t able to experience all the things their peers are Shoutout to the mixed race south Asians Shoutout to the disabled and chronically ill south Asians Shoutout to the south Asians estranged from their culture and heritage

You are loved, you are valued, your experiences and voices matter and you do not go unnoticed. So here’s a shout out to my incredible south Asian brothers, sisters, and siblings; keep it up!

[hellkitten-a-blog]

jessica.

‘ well, if i’m your vicarious … whatever, and i’ve never had my shit together in my life, who’s driving the bus — ? ’

it’s meant to be something like a joke, jessica thinks, hopes, maybe, but it doesn’t come with the right air or warmth to direct it that way. her voice sounds too hoarse even to her own ears, like she’s trying to talk through a chokehold or a slit in her larynx, and either way she has to, badly, suppress a hard, grating, bodily shiver.

‘ i keep. waiting for this to be — harder. i spent the whole way walking over here thinking we’d just — stay stuck. i don’t really know what to do. now. but — thank you. for … hearing me out. i appreciate … it means a lot. that you’re listening. hearing me. ’

jessica inhales, draws her hands out of her pockets, watches them tremble and shoves them back the way they came.

‘ god, that was such a shitshow. ’ jessica’s exhale huffs, weakly. ‘ the whole … proposal, bullshit. i probably would’ve — screamed at him and ditched my own engagement party, so at least you handled that part better than i would have. ’

the attempt at something wry dims and falters, fades out and dies when jessica remembers where she is. what brought her — them — here, to this point, with this gulf between her and everything she thought she knew.

‘ that’s — why i care about your standards, trish. because you’ve lived. caffeine and spite or not. i don’t — even know what that means. i thought i did. but i was just. this is going to sound like some, angsty teenage bullshit, but i’ve been — carrying around a corpse, with me. the fights, the booze, the … fucking strangers, shit, falling on goddamn train tracks, it was all — i was just trying to make myself feel something. but i still look at myself and all i see is something that just doesn’t know it’s been dead. and i always thought that was just what he — … what kilgrave, did to me. but — now i know what came before that, too, and it’s — seventeen years worth. maybe longer. i don’t even know how much of this, of the shitty things i’ve said and done to people, is … me, or — trauma bullshit, or — if it’s hardwired. if it’s the accident, the experiments. maybe i can never change or fix any of this. maybe it’s in my brain and always will be. and i never learned how to work around that, because until now, i didn’t even know. but you — you lived. you were always, alive, to me. even when you had to fake it, or perform, or whatever. you’ve been alive. it took going to the darkest place i’ve ever been for me to even know i wanted to live. let alone know what that even means. so that’s why i care what you think. because the only things i knew about being alive came from you. and i can’t keep doing that. it’s not — fair. to either of us. if i make you the textbook for everything. ’

her key — the copy thereof — is cold in her hand and feels like the world lurching sideways. the roof shifts under her weight and doesn’t. jessica curls it into her palm hard enough that the teeth leave bruising marks. ( it won’t be like this forever. she tells herself that. some day, when — the idea of coming over and trish already being there doesn’t make her feel invaded, she can give this back. it’s not forever. just for now. until they’re both — ready, to do that, again. )

‘ — weekends. okay. ’

that’s — good. weekends. she can do weekends.

it still feels so anticlimactically simple, now that she’s here. they’re here.

‘ … and i wouldn’t — call it dating, so don’t get ahead of yourself. ’ but, jessica manages a fragile, feverish smile. ( it’s terrifying. but — it feels like it could be good, some day. to talk about — … dating, or whatever, with trish. with anyone. the idea that she might like to talk about oscar at risk of sounding like a goddamn high schooler might be the most foreign feeling of the bunch. )

          the joke is far enough out of left field to get a reaction; trish tries to laugh, mostly just rolls her eyes, but she knows, too. that bus has been abandoned for years, and it probably doesn't run. she leans back, weight on her palms; looks to the sky and not at jessica, who's talking about her like they're strangers and she has no one to blame but herself -- should have known you'd find a way to ruin this you al-- so all she can do is agree.

          ' i, uh. you've never ... christ. i'm sorry. i don't really know how to do the e-emotions thing. i'm not comfortable with mine, i don't like ... even with you. it's hard and if it's not constructive, it doesn't m-make me feel better. but i guess i never ... i'm sorry you couldn't talk to me. i should have kept asking. and, l-listening and a lot of things. '

          she sits back up, wipes her eyes on her sleeve, groans at the engagement party crack because, god, it’s only been a month but sometimes she impresses herself. almost. 

          ‘ well, you didn’t stick around. i never actually s-said yes, so i did a pretty good job of spoiling things myself. i, uh. thought it was a job interview? i was so disappointed. ’ there’s laughter in her voice and it’s mostly manic, disbelieving, but gives way to something softer. more human. ‘ — i wanted to tell you. y-you’re still ... i think of you first every time, good or bad, but i’m just ... i don’t think i k-know how to do it.  ’ exhale. ‘ reach out without feeling like someone else benefits. ’

                    — you were always alive to me. 

          there’s a dull irony in everything jessica’s saying, if only because she feels like that’s half the problem they’re addressing. the trish she knows -- though the closest thing to genuine available -- is also the one she created, albeit accidentally, by showing her ... but she’s a person. not the goddamn velveteen rabbit. she wants to ask her what do you think i’m like, when you’re not here and it’s more to take notes on than it is to possibly prove her wrong, to say that no, she’s never truly ... but she doesn’t, just listens, works on what she’s going to say. 

           ‘ it doesn’t sound ... like that. juvenile. i can’t imagine what you ... i don’t. know. i don’t have a-any of the answers, but i ... i know you and you’re n-not. a thing anyone made. but you’re not me, either? i mean ...  ’ in through your nose. out through your mouth. keep breathing. ‘ you wanna t-talk brains and ‘trauma shit’ — we, uh. set our standards really early. most kids learn normal shit and i learned to be whatever would pay the bills. i don’t have ... the right groundwork. to engage. that’s why it’s so easy to switch off. there’s nothing w-wrong with you for ... reacting. to trauma. but i can ... if you want, i have a neuro team? i could make some calls. get you in, whenever.   ’ 

          they’re talking schedules and returning keys and it’s all like the world’s most type-a breakup, which at least a part of her can appreciate, but it’s ... she sees how hard jessica grips the copy, knows this is probably even harder for her, and she’s -- “dating” or not, trish doesn’t miss that smile and it spreads, right to her own damn face.

[hellkitten-a-blog]

[hellkitten-a-blog]

i’m not going to let myself really. get into The Emotion Of It All because i’m still way too fragile but.

trish and jessica (separately and together) have been, so vital to my , literal survival the past 2.5 years and i just kind of, felt, like, i finally had One Thing where the showrunner and writers at least More Or Less Cared about the content they were taking on re: exploration of trauma and mental illness and, uh

i’ve never really had anybody else (other than kate austen from lost) on tv who i felt like i could actually somewhat realistically see myself in and i was just. perpetually so grateful that i had them and they had each other and Not The Worst Show In The World and i felt like i could maybe trust the show to, i don’t know, allow anyone to just, Work On Shit, heal from the crap they keep pulling, but here we are and i feel. so dumb for being optimistic and for letting myself care so deeply and also a lot of other fun things so. 

idk. i’m going to finish the thread z and i have going here and then i’ll be moving to another blog

[hellkitten-a-blog]

note to self while it’s on my mind, write a thing about how introspection Works For Trish because having to Do Honest Communication for once has made me realize a lot about how she processes things and like her own self image and/or lack thereof

need to try to nap but @hardbittten hold me to this if i’m broody and awol

[hellkitten-a-blog]

lieselmeminger replied to your post: i love … trish walker … my original goddamn...

at least… you got rachael taylor’s really good face fancast as your oc

that is so true? this bone structure? in My OC?

did i ever tell you you’re my favorite child

[hellkitten-a-blog]

i love ... trish walker ... my original goddamn character, and while i am flattered that she is so prominently featured in such popular current works of fan-produced media, i cannot condone the actions of these writers and wish them luck in their future characterization endeavors. here’s to producing something both decent and respectful within the next ten years

[hellkitten-a-blog]

jessica.

it’s not the first time, that the phone’s come up between them. jessica lets her hand fish into her jacket pocket ahead of the telltale twinned vibrations, buzzing numb against the bones of her palm until she slides the lock screen open.

her blink sticks hard enough to dully ache, at what meets her eyes. jessica’s exhale sounds too hurt to be a laugh, more like a quiet winding, like a solid blow to the stomach. it’s all so — far from you’re not helping me that she feels the muscles of her throat clench up, unsure for a moment if she wants to cry or throw up, but her stomach lurches either way. what’s supposed to be funny just hurts. – but it’s a clean hurt. maybe – maybe that doesn’t have to be all bad.

— but, for the rest, jessica is quiet, save for how the pacing strikes up again. it’s — not easier, but something like it, to take in, to process, the flood of words when she’s moving, even if she feels her hands shaking by the time trish, in turn, falls back into silence and she halts her gait.

‘ — … everything in me wants to say your bar’s gotta be set pretty goddamn low if you’re comparing people to me. ’

her eyes sting hot-sharp-salty until jessica blinks it back, but the lump in her throat doesn’t drive off so easy.

‘ but i, uh. i didn’t come here for that. i want … mm. i want that — for you. to have other people, to have … your own shit. so — if you feel good about them, so do i. and, uh. it’s … ’

shit.

‘ it’s good. that you’re doing that. meeting people, … branching out. i know that’s not — i mean, you give … really good bluster, and — performance shit, but i know it’s not easy. so. if this doesn’t sound — fucking corny, i’m proud of you. ’

( she tries not to think too hard about the last person to say that to her, and why, but a hot burning-nauseous sting leaks out from her left eye down to cool in the crevice at the side of her nose all the same. )

‘ uh — shit. ’ sniff, wet and ugly and animal, rubbed off against her knuckles. ‘ sorry. give me a minute, i. ’

something in jessica’s chest convulses, like a silent hiccup or a dry heave, and evens out by the time her hand lowers back to her side.

‘ it’s just … i — spent … a long time feeling small. around you. and every time i tried to move, the bar raised too. if i — remembered to eat, didn’t matter, because i forgot to charge my phone. if i took too long to tell you what i was dealing with, it wasn’t good enough that i told you at all, because i should have done it earlier. so it — i don’t know what to do with that. you … comparing people to me, giving — a shit about what i might think of them. i mean, i try to … fix things, and — every time i feel like i’ve made progress with you, the standards just keep getting higher, so i don’t know how … i can be the yardstick when i don’t measure up to anything. ’

a wave of clammy, hot-cold dizziness bleeds through in the pause, and it’s less of a sitting down and more of a stumbling, by the time jessica’s weight meets the ground, back meets the wall.

‘ i don’t know. how to do any of this. i feel like i’m trying to fucking — negotiate a goddamn kink contract but without the sex. which. is not anywhere near as much fun, by the way. maybe … uh. i mean, fill in the blanks whenever. but maybe we can — do phone calls? for now? once a week, or something, to. updates. you know. n — normal shit. ’ jesus, when did she catch trish’s stutter? ‘ and if that, mm, if that works maybe build — up to, uh, lunch, or something? ’

a weak huff, gaze faltering down to her crooked-up knees.

‘ i feel like such an idiot. i mean, what kind of asshole has to — make rules for her friendships, right? ’

           it's a disconcerting thing, to hold someone in such impossibly high regard and find out you've made them feel small. to know maybe the love you’ve tried to give has been more like -- well, that doesn’t matter. that’s her own problem for later. point being: trish didn’t always do her best, she knows that, knows she’s dishonest and that she uses people, that she’s overcritical for reasons any decent therapist would have a field day with. that she’s never known how to admit when she’s wrong because it feels like some kind of self-sacrifice and there’s just not enough of trish to go around. what’s news to her -- what hits her so hard she actually recoils, a little -- is that she wasn’t much better with jessica.  in through your nose, out through your mouth.  

          ‘ i’ve not ... i-i think i’m being helpful. and i’m not. it’s never been about you not being good enough, it’s like ... all this time i’ve seen you as the only part of me that really mattered, that was ... worth something. e-everything. and not because of ... what you can do, if ... i know i’ve put a lot on you you probably never wanted thinking everyone just, does and i never meant to end up here giving this goddamn dorothy walker ‘v-vicarious dreams’ speech but i guess ...  ’ inhale, exhale. remember.  ‘ i guess i can’t expect denial to start doing me any favors now, and, uh. thank you. for telling me. it’s not shit but i’m so sorry i made you feel like that and i know i can’t just undo anything but ... i’ll do better. i’ll b-be better.  ’ 

          ( a pause to get the hair out of her eyes, which have been drier but the tears won’t fall; she’s never been good at that part. )

          ‘ and i don’t ... get it, either, you know. i’m never ... together but i’m always like that. can’t let go. i was proposed to a month ago by a guy who never noticed i don’t buy groceries until he moved in with me, at which point i said, and i quote, ‘making lists stresses me out’ . so, you know. there’s your lifetime runner up in transparency, i guess. i don’t know what you see when you l-look at me that says to care about my standards, but i’ve lived off spite and caffeine since i was twelve.   ’ 

           trish smiles, or at least it’s half there; looks up and meets jessica’s eyes as best she can.  

           ‘ i'll be alright, you can ... stick to the schedule, but if i’m unreachable and you need. proof of life or whatever --  ’ ( which, okay, she’s fine by her terms but it’s a reasonable future concern; might as well )   ‘ i won’t change my locks. please don’t break any glass.  ’ she tries to remember to breathe but it’s getting harder, the tightness in her chest worsening with each word instead of loosening up. trish reaches beside her for her bag, pulls out her keyring. ‘ i want you to take this, though, ’ she says, unlinking jessica’s, holding it out. ‘ i d-don’t ... it’s not. good. for me to feel like i can just ... you’re dating your super, or whatever? it’s a half hour commute. an emergency key is illogical. ’ she looks away, focuses on making out details on the rooftop opposite theirs. 

         ‘ my weekends are almost always free, ’ she says, wiping her nose on the back of her hand in the most dignified way possible. ‘ if you called sunday or saturday it wouldn’t matter when you woke up and i don’t work then, so. ’ 

[hellkitten-a-blog]

He Wants to Know Why Sometimes in the Face of Conflict I Neither Fight nor Flee, but Instead Go Disconcertingly Mute, Eyes Locked Ahead Like Some Sad Dead Thing Looking off into the Empty of Its Own Future

Children who have no escape from the hands that harm learn to die over and over again.

— Jeanann Verlee, published in Hematopoiesis Press

[hellkitten-a-blog]

jessica.

                    ‘ yeah. uh. ’

       okay. okay. okay. jessica blinks hard and stiff enough she can hear it click and waits till her legs catch up to the command not to bolt. ( no more — running. no more leaving. she’s — )

                    ‘ uh, this is going to sound … phoney as shit. because — i definitely practiced it in the shower until it sounded right. but, i — i really need you to … listen, first, and talk after, okay. because if i don’t get this out now i might not — talk to anyone for another week, so. ’

       okay. okay. okay.

                     ‘ — … i had dinner. with oscar and vido, after the … after everything. ’ and there goes the pacing, soles itchy with the fractious energy of it. ‘ and it was — admittedly, terrifying. but — it felt … honest. it felt like i was doing something — real, and — and alive for the first time in months. and … i think i want to keep doing … feeling like that. but it got me to thinking, that — if i’m going to do that, i need to be real with you, maybe before — anyone else. i, uh, — ’ a huff that’s a badly wrought, hurt, bastard child of a not-laugh. ‘ maybe you remember, i … hated so much of high school, y’know, i never wanted to … so many of my classes were taught by idiots to idiots. but — i always liked algebra. y’know, find the x. i could always — find the x. and you … were always the constant coefficient. always the same, every time. you were always the 2 that multiplied the x. and as long as i had that one constant, i could solve … anything. but — i think i started doing that too much. putting — everything on one constant in a … sea of variables, it’s not — good. or fair. i’m – a fucking expert on doing the right thing for the wrong reasons. if i help this person, did i really do it for them, or am i trying to cancel out something else from all the shit on my scorecard. if i protect trish, is that really for her, or is it so i can be the one who slays the dragon. i’ve been trying to … cling to that constant when it wanted to become something else, and feeling … completely worthless every time i fell short, or failed, or took too long, or didn’t work hard enough, or couldn’t be everything you needed or expected me to be or do. and for as long as i do that, i can’t — i think i’m too close, to you. and it’s meant that i haven’t been a good friend. to you, to … myself, to anyone. and — i was going to just, remove myself from the equation. pick up and — run to fucking uruguay like it wouldn’t chase me. or just kill myself, i don’t really know anymore. but it would have followed me, this … thing, no matter how far i ran. and i – ’

       inhale. exhale. jessica comes to a hard stop, plants her feet, makes herself carve out eye contact from the fever.

                     ‘ i fucking hate this, communication shit. you know that. i’m not good at it. but — i think you and i need to … set some … boundaries. guidelines. something. because i really … scared the shit out of myself. and if i’m going to be honest, if i’m going to be … real, i need to make some changes. and i think that we need to — figure something out, so we don’t end up … hating each other. because i don’t — ever want to feel like that again. but i think that if we keep doing this, where we … make each other everything, and drop — everything for each other, and we don’t have any other friends, i really think we might. so — i don’t know. i don’t know if we need a, a schedule, or what, but there has gotta be something. because i can’t keep doing this. and — judging by the past few months, neither can you. ’

       inhale. exhale.

                    ‘ okay. your turn. ’

          when she was little, trish knew how to listen; how to be a part of a scene without constantly reasserting her own presence. how to be. she could watch people, scrutinize their actions without also needing to control them, and she’d lost that; ironically, maybe, had it taken from her. she knew what it cost to be silent but she’s been thinking, lately, about its value. how much she’s missed outside her own head. it’s sufficient to say, she’s trying, but the first thing trish does with the floor is pull out her phone, signifies one second.

                        jess: math metaphors are always radical                         jess: i’m proud of you for being here & i’m not upset. i just need a minute to do this right

          which is to say, it’s hard to get going, sometimes, and more often than not, she says things she regrets ( and then never apologizes for ). which is to say, for better and for worse, her relationship with jessica is worth more than her usual shallow passes at self-acknowledgment. which is to say, it’s so much more than just “i love you” that they never say, and it’s hard to keep track of who knows what, and she hates it but she doesn’t know how to stop. 

          ‘ i never wanted to be that for you -- everything, i mean. i don’t want you to feel like there’s things you can’t do or people you can’t see or anything because you have to put me first and keep me in one piece. i’ve always managed when i’ve needed to and i’ve never blamed you for not being there. i ... can ask for help if i need it, and it doesn’t always have to come from you. i don’t expect that. i think ... i just don’t know how else to be?   ’ trish’s mouth quirks and a hand goes up to mask it, scratching. ‘ i was never exactly ... well, i didn’t talk till about kindergarten? and i was homeschooled till a magazine called me aloof and my publicist had to talk my mom out of suing. so you, uh, really threw me for a goddamn loop, and i was so ...   ’ a shrug, defeated.  ‘ i kind of just transferred ownership of myself to you, but it was never really mine and you never asked for it. you never should have had to look out for me like that. and ... i’ve been trying, y’know, to do different things and meet different people, outside of work, but i keep kind of ... comparing them to you, worrying about you, wondering if you’d like them ...  ’ 

          ( a huff of a laugh; she shakes her head, almost disbelieving. breathes. )

          ‘ don’t over-flatter yourself but i’ve actually been kind of panicked about it, and i think ... i think i just miss you? i feel like we don’t really talk anymore unless something’s bad wrong and we’ve forgotten how to just ... coexist, i guess? and that’s n-not what i want for us? but it’s a good idea to set some boundaries, just ... whatever you need is okay. your turn.  ’

[hellkitten-a-blog]

so i guess i’m literally just incapable of speaking about it coherently without crying or worse and i’m way past the point of pride this year so whatever, i guess, here’s some bullet points? i’ve been up for idk 40 hours

s2 is 95% fake

... relapse will be acknowledged as continuation from s1 canon

i like griffin honestly he can stay. she’s still a lesbian but

trish wasn’t doing anything else that they were dealing with onscreen other than, unfortunately, being in contact with her mother, and being overhelpful with igh

no

fucking no

[hellkitten-a-blog]

jessica.

       is everything okay. the abortive question glues jessica’s eyes shut. lodges a shard of bile in her throat. — she needs something, anything, other than — birch street, i’m just a thought, you’re getting very good at — i know every side street in —

       her exhale threads tight, thin, between her teeth. ( sure. send her to a roof and see if she can battle the temptation to fucking jump, this time. — no, everything’s not okay. but it will be. it has to be. she wants it to be. she — wants it to be better than okay, than just surviving. which is fucking terrifying but something, somewhere, has to — give. change. move. )

       speaking of moving, she forces herself up and to the door.

                     ‘ yeah. okay. see you there. ’

       that bile’s still somewhere in jessica’s throat when she hangs up, and her legs feel numb the whole walk long, barely feeling the jarring once her boots plant on the roof after the jump. but she knows — she knows this has to happen. knows it’s the right thing to happen, which might just be more important or better than whatever she thinks she needs. ( turns out she’s still not a very good judge of that. )

       her hands shove a little too firmly into her pockets, and she feels chilled some way that has nothing to do with the cool.

                     ‘ hey. um. ’ god, this started so much better in her head. ‘ can you — sit down? i’m gonna end up, uh, pacing, or something, probably, and it’s no good if we’re both — acting like a pair of assholes. ’

               well, they're talking, or jessica's talking, which is a start. not that anything she's saying is especially reassuring, but what had she expected? nothing good had ever come from "we have to talk". she’s seen the movies; she’s been in the movies, she’s scripted enough of her own damn -- but they aren’t, anymore. she and jessica. not for a long time. move, patsy. 

                 ( she does, once she catches up with what’s being said; makes her way across the concrete to their usual spot, looks out to see what’s playing out of habit but there’s nothing on, it’s the middle of the week, of course it’s the middle of the week. )

               ‘ okay, i’m here, ’ trish says when it’s finally too much. ‘ as long as you want. j-just-- ’ there’s a glint of fear in her eyes that’s clouded over by personal disappointment; the self-loathing, as always, wins out. ‘ can you talk to me? ’