One day, I’ll finally be gone from this hell hole, the day just seems to get worse and worse and the anger just keeps on building up. I hope the day where I’ll leave this hell hole comes soon!
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If I'm rotting will you still love me? If I stop pretending to be a human being. If I show the void that lives in my being and eats away at my shell of a body. If I show you the decay that tears away at my organs and flesh. Will you still love me? Or am I unlovable for everyone I know? Because I am simply too much. Am I doomed to be alone? Were they all right in saying that no one could love me like they could? I feel like I'm crazy. Will you just look at me and tell me you still love me? Even if you see a beast that is not human and a hole of rotten meat that can never be filled. I am the broken machine, the shattered doll, the lost little rabbit with fangs ready to attack. Am I still good enough for your love?
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The scariest thing about viserys is that he, and men like him, do appear to be harmless on the outside. He’s soft spoken, seems to be a bit clueless and naive, he’s generally nice to people and may even seem like a “family man” but behind closed doors you finally get to see his true colours. He has a violent side but he hides it very well. We don’t see his ugliness very often but when we do his actions are clearly abusive.
Viserys showed aggression multiple times behind closed doors, he was misogynistic in the way he viewed women and yes that includes Rhaenyra who he only really started to indulge to ease his guilt of killing her mother. He used aemma as a broodmare and put her through multiple miscarriages and stillbirths before pregnancy killed her, she was pleading with him not to put her through another pregnancy after this one then when she was dying in childbirth he didn’t even allow her to die with dignity, in the way she wanted to. Publicly, He showed love towards Aemma and cried over her death. He allowed Alicent to have some power by letting her have a seat on the council, only after years of rape and forcing her to become a mother of 4 because he was attracted to her teenage body. Both Rhaenyra and Rhaenys reference Alicent as prisoner of her circumstances in both her early years and late years of marriage. He is shown as a doting father and grandfather to Rhaenyra and her kids but ignores the children he forced Alicent to have. Their son loses an eye and he’s only concerned about “rumours” spread about his grandsons. “Look at me” he screams in the face of 10 year old Aemond who just lost his eye and is in severe pain. Then he moves on to scream in 14 year old aegon’s face. Alicent begs him “please Viserys, he’s your blood” and in this scene it’s important to note that the boys did not incriminate their mother when their father was yelling, trying to incite fear into them, they didn’t want their fathers wrath redirected towards their mother. His favouritism of Rhaenyra overshadows his early treatment of her, ignoring her and underestimating her as a worthy heir until daemon mocked his dead son. He always indulged her and never went back on her being heir. He came off as a loyal, loving father who made his daughter a queen in her own right.
Viserys could have represented a certain type of terrible man, the kind that hides behind his harmless good guy image. The show could have addressed that he is just as bad as his brother daemon but with more self control and enough denial to think of himself as a better man. Deep enough in his own deception to convince us that he was the good brother when he’s just another brand of bad. They could have addressed the damage he did to his wives and children. They could have told the audience that yes you also fell for his act and the deceptive portrayal we gave you because men like viserys will have you fooled in real life. Instead the show, which claimed to be a feminist retelling of martins work made this weak king and horrible man be praised as good husband, father and king. Never allowed his suriviving wife or daughters or even his sons be angry at him or dare to blame him.
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More childhood best friend!Gaz headcanons because I cannot stop thinking about him
He’s your valentine every single year. Started as his dad trying to teach him proper etiquette when he was young and just never stopped. A bouquet of flowers on your stoop and a cheap card he scratches a note into. Never signs his name. Just ends ‘xx.’
He chaperoned your first real date in high school because your dad paid for his tank of gas. The guy you were keen on never called you back after. It took you until you were seventeen to realize that it was probably because Kyle was sitting on the same side of the booth as you and spoon feeding you bites of dinner.
He also ruined your first real relationship when he beat your boyfriend to asking you to formal (a full two months early). You tried to explain that it didn’t mean anything, but he just couldn’t understand. Kyle said it was for the better while you sobbed into his shoulder. “Tosser can’t cope with the fact he’ll always be second place. Better not to waste your time.”
His basic training was 26 weeks away from home. He went immediately after picking up his diploma. It was the most miserable summer of your entire life. Spent primarily waiting by the mailbox for the postman to deliver your daily letters back and forth. He’s started signing off “Garrick. x.”
Both of your families went to his graduation, but his mother insisted you were the one to tap him out. You barely recognized him, like the summer where his family took a month long vacation and he came back a full four inches taller. He’s bigger now, his shoulders permanently rolled back, but he still carries himself with that same cool ease.
He barely stays long enough to say his hello’s to everyone until he takes you back to the car and lays you out in the backseat. Griping the whole way about how “you’d be in a hurry, too. Couldn’t even get away with a wank in the shower.” And “s’your duty to the country. You wanna thank me for my service, don’t you?” You swear the two of you fit easier six months ago, but now he’s cramped between the seats. Caged in tight. His head bumps the window each time he snaps his hips into you.
You seriously considered moving close to base when you found out he was being permanently relocated after joining the task force, but he wouldn’t hear a word about it.
So you settle on sending each other disposable cameras back and forth. You’ve got a picture of him on a mission in Amsterdam framed up in your hall. He’s got a cigarette hanging out of his big, toothy smile, posing like an overexcited tourist in front of a lingerie shop with a display window that made your ears hot when you first saw it.
He called you a few days after his incident with the helo in Urzikstan. Boasted his adventure with only a whispering tremble on the soft underside of his tough facade. Carried on until you wretched dryly into the receiver. Working yourself up into sick with worry even though he promised he was fine, just sticking to the ground for a bit.
Even though you’re seeing him less nowadays, he’s still somehow coming between you and any romantic pursuits you make. You chalk it up to coincidence most of the time, but a blind eye can only be turned so far.
He seems to have a sixth sense for when you’re on a date or a one night stand. Sending texts and pictures that could be misconstrued as flirty to someone who didn’t know the dynamic at just the wrong moment every time. And there was the one time where he sent flowers to your desk at work just a few days after you’d said something about a coworker getting sweet on you.
It happened so often that you eventually decided that the dating scene just wasn’t for you. Resigned to focus on work and friends. Adopting a new mantra of “if it’s meant to be, it’ll be.”
You’ve got no idea why Kyle is so pleased to hear about the conclusion you’ve come to. Or why he’s suddenly coming back home for a few weeks.
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I wish I was lovable and not broken. I wish I had the chance to live like everyone else does. I'm sick of everything eating away at me. I hate being alone and the silence tearing at us. I hate the vivid flashbacks and memories. The dreams that make us feel safe because we are back in the home of our one and only. I hate this. I hate living like this. I wish it could just stop.
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