Ramsye The Epic Divorce Guy

He's just pure sunshine in bovine form~

(no wonder his boyfriend is a cat!)

Muscular Dragon Dude

Made with MediBang

Something I struggle with is the question of if I'm 'strong' or 'weak'.

Not to steel-ball-run my words but I mean in the sense of a protagonist. Some protagonists have a mind of steel. They take hardship on the chin and take on the burden of responsibility, or honor, or martyrdom. The stories I love to read the most are characters with little to no talent. They grind at the wall of talent and background until nothing remains, through the power of concerted effort and their only true talent of the iron will.

But I don't have that. I never have. I don't even find it relatable. I have spent my entire life keenly aware of it. I coast on talent, I lean on familial benefits, I give up when the going gets tough, and I choose the path of least resistance and most stability.

When I grew up the faculty of my school always would put the word GRIT on the walls. This hard won effort and willingness to endure that they advertised as the height of true internal strength. At the time, I was far too mentally ill, and found it insulting. Don't they know that some people can't afford effort?

Then time passed. I stamped down some illnesses and corralled some others, I become a new man a dozen times. And every time I'd check. Just maybe I'm strong now. Please. Please make me someone who can withstand hardship. Because I lived in fear of falling into hard times and being unwilling to survive them.

Other people lived in spite of circumstance. They fought and whether they win or lose it let them grow as a person. I just built myself from spare parts. I did not grow organically, I just kept replacing pieces of myself until I looked like a real person.

So I wondered. Did I live well under an unfathomable weight, and now I simply do not feel it? Or have I always lived it on easy street, whining over something small? Or is it some combination, and if so, am I stronger than I was when I was younger? Or have I grown complacent?

It's meaningless. I know it is. There's no way to quantify it. I'll just have to live without knowing if what I'm fighting is strong enough to warrant my current standard of suffering.

booting up... - [31/01/2024]

IDK WHAT TO NAME HIM BUT HES A SILLY DRAGONBORN BARBARIAN FELLOW FOR AN UPCOMING DND GAME!!! 🖤🖤

why am i simping for a dragon that lives only in my head

"the curse of knowledge is that you can't unlearn something" yes i can

The question of 'is it something you like or does it just replace something you don't?' haunts every single one of my preferences and opinions.

The pure eroticism of an Ace Bandage is not fully taken advantage of, I feel. The implications are clear.

Barely covering scarred skin, vulnerable flesh, a package to be unwrapped but also a rough texture made to protect them. The elastic and cotton arguing over it's texture pulled just barely not taut by skilled and gentle hands. To apply it is sex. To allow it to be applied is sex, to peel it away is sex, to reveal yourself as healed or still damaged is sex.

There's something so inherently vulnerable about dentist's offices, even beyond the hands in your mouth. It's the turning of your head before they tell you to, the forcible relaxing of an involuntary tensing up, opening yourself wider and feeling ashamed that they even had to ask you.

Like, I am not, by any stretch in my daily life, a bottom. But at a dentist's office or hair salon, I become so willing to do things for another person, bordering on the sublime desire. I think this is what submissives experience in every interaction.