#But I am terrible at expressing myself so like

[girlatrocity]

MAN.

[bowtiestash]

i really find it interestin that you can kinda clock an artist's age based on how self-deprecatin they are lol

[romolossesit]

The anxiety is setting in god god god

[mom-friendtm]

period blues

[sbrn10]

Me about 50% of the time I am wading through publicly searchable CR-related tags: for the love of god, can people be. Like. Normal about anything?

Also me the rest of the time: *not at all normal about CR*

[durzarya]

Okay I realize that I am on the piss on the poor website and that media literacy is dead. But sometimes my own "Was that not obvious???" is not apparently obvious.

And I have to step back because no girl most people don't interpret a text correctly while only understanding half the words

[weedpicnic]

Tw eating stuff tw eating disorder tw drug use tw sexual assault etc #ok I think I might be finally after 5 fuckign ywars having that HRT weight gain they be talkin about yall I sure fucking hope so given that I have been tightrope walking and repeatedly falling off the line of being under a healthy weight ever since i got raped and then briefly addicted to coke and then was also denied the validity of that assault by multiple people that I cared about including my parents and the rapists best friend who was my childhood best friend who introduced us lol. Let’s fucking #goooo I guess!!!

[malachitezmeyka]

I know it's useless to get mad at the dog, she's just a hyperactive little thing who doesn't know how to behave yet. She's left home alone for at least 6 hours every day and she's bored, I can't blame her for tearing apart her training pads or shitting all over the place. Even if I did, she must have done it hours ago, dogs don't get that actions that happened so long ago have consequences and all me yelling at her will result in is her being scared of me. I know all that, I do

So WHY am I still so angry at her?? Why does it feel satisfying to lash out and see her scurry away??? She doesn't deserve to be treated like that, she doesn't know any better. And I don't know how to teach her to know better, I don't have the patience for it. She deserves better than me

[interpolationz]

help i got a little too silly about something that maybe one should not be silly about and i've been cursed with terrible hiccups for it

[inkskinned]

what is with men being mad any time a woman raises her voice where did that even come from. someone posted a video of a small electrical explosion, and the top comment was of course the woman screams. the second comment is women try not to scream challenge, level impossible. i had to go back and watch the video again. there is, somewhat fainty, a little gasp emitted off-camera, more of a yelp than a scream. it is mostly lost in the crack of the explosion. afterwards, you hear her voice, shaken, say, are you okay?

i am helping one of my friends train her voice pitch lower, because she wants to be taken seriously at work. she and i do each other's nails and talk about gender roles; and how - due to our appearance - neither of us have ever been able to be "hysterical" in public. we both appear young and sweet and feminine. she is cisgender, and cannot use her natural voice in her profession because people keep saying she appears to be "vapid". we both try to figure out if our purposeful voice lowering is technically sexist. is it promoting something when you are a victim to it?

a storm almost sends a pole through a car window. in the dashcam, you can hear the woman passenger say her partner's name twice, crying out in alarm. she sounds terrified. in the comments, she is lambasted for her lack of calm. how is that even fucking helping?

in high school, i taught myself to have a lower voice. i had been recorded when i was genuinely (and righteously) upset; and i hated how my voice sounded on the phone speakers when it was played back. i was defending my mom, and my voice cracked with emotion. it meant i was no longer winning the argument: i was just shrieking about it.

girls meet each other after a long summer and let out a little joyful scream. this usually stops around 12-14, because people will not tolerate this display of affection (as it has the effect of being passingly annoying). something about the fact that little girls can't ever even be annoying. we are trained to examine each part of our lives (even joy) for anything that could make us upsetting and disgusting. they act like teenage girls are breaking into houses and shrieking you awake at 3 in the morning. speaking as a public school educator: trust me, it's not that bad, you can just roll your eyes and move on. it does not compare to the ways boys end up being annoying: slurs in graffiti, purposefully mocking your body, following you after you said no. you know, just boy things.

there's another video of a man who is not allowed to yell in the house, so he snaps his fingers when he's excited about soccer. the comments are full of angry men, talking about how their brother is unfairly caged. let him express himself and this is terrible to do to someone. eventually the couple has to address it in a second video: they are married with a newborn baby. he was trying not to wake the infant up. there is no comment on the fact women are not allowed to yell indoors. or the fact that it could have been really alarming or triggering for his wife. sometimes i wonder if straight men even like women, if they even enjoy being in relationships with them.

for the longest time, i hated roller coasters because it always felt inappropriate and uncomfortable for me to scream. one of my friends called me on it, said it was unusual i'm so unwilling. i had to go to my therapist about it. i don't like to scream because i was not raised in a safe situation, and raising my voice would have brought unsafe attention towards me. even when i am supposed to scream, it feels shameful, guilty. i was not treated kindly, so i lack a basic form of self-protection. this is not a natural response. it is not good that in a situation of high adrenaline - i shut up about it.

something very bad is happening, i think. in between all the beauty standards and the stuff i've already discussed - this one feels new and cruel in a way i can't quite express. yes, it's scary and silencing. but there's something about how direct it is - that so many men agree with the sentiment that women should never yell, even in an emergency - it feels different.

is the word shriek gendered automatically? how about shrill or screech? in self defense class, one of the first things they tell you is to yell, as loud and as shrilly as you can. they say it will feel rude. most women will not do this. you need to practice overcoming the social pressure and just scream.

most women do not cry out, even when it's bad. we do not report it. we walk faster. we do not make a scene. what would be the point of doing anything else? no matter what we do, we don't get taken seriously. it is a joke to them. an instagram caption punchline. we have to present ourselves as silent, beautiful, captivating - "valuable."

a woman is outside watching her kids when someone throws a firecracker at them. she screams and runs towards her children. in the comments, grown men flock together in the thousands: god. women are so annoying.

[raigash]

Does anyone else have that fight with their brain where it’s like

Me: this phrase/word conveys that message. It works. Just use that

Brain: no >:(

Me: why the fuck NOT

Brain: wrong vibe >:(

Me: okay but like…do you have a replacement to offer?

Brain: No >:(

Me: then…for the sake of writing the things we want to write…can we please just…use that

Brain: NO! >:(

Me, exhausted: why

Brain: wrong vibe >:(

Or is it just me because I swear to fucking god I have this fight every three hours

[vadlings]

Represention of Autistic Frustration in Laios Dungeon Meshi

Like many other autistic people, I related strongly to Laios Touden while reading Dungeon Meshi. This post isn't going to spend time disputing whether he displays autistic traits or not—while I could do that, I want to focus on why specifically his portrayal struck a chord with me in a way the writing of most other autistic-coded characters has not.

Disclaimer: as the above suggests, this post is strongly informed by my own experiences as an autistic person, as well as the experiences of my neurodivergent friends with whom I have spoken about this subject. I want to clarify that in no way am I asserting my personal experience to be some Universal Autistic Experience. This post is about why Laios' character feels distinct and significant to me in regard to autistic representation, and while I'm at it, I do feel that I have interesting things to say about autistic representation in media generally. This also got a bit long, so I'm sticking it under a read more. Spoilers for up to the end of chapter 88 below.

The thing that stands out most to me in regard to Laios' characterisation is the open anger he displays when someone points out his inability to read other people. This comes up prominently in his interactions with "Shuro" (Toshiro Nakamoto):

The frustration pictured above (Laios continuing to physically tussle with Toshiro, using crude language toward him) becomes even more notable when you remember that this is Laios, who, outside of these interactions, is not easily fazed and often exists as a lighthearted contrast to the rest of the cast. Then we get to Laios' nightmare.

In Falin's words: "Nightmares love emotional wounds. Wounds you hold in your heart. Things that give you stress, or things that were traumatic for you. They aggravate memories like that and cause the dreamer to have terrible dreams." (chapter 42, page 10.) (damn. i'm properly citing for this post and everything.)

Thus, Laios' nightmare establishes an important fact: even if he is unable to recognise social blunders while he's making them, he's at least subconsciously aware that other people operate on a different wavelength to him, and that he's an outsider in many of his social circles (both past and present). His dream-father's disparaging words stress the impact this has had upon his ability to live up to the expectations set out for him, and we also get a panel of kids who smirk at him (presumably former bullies to some degree). Toshiro's appearance only hammers home how much Laios is still both humiliated and angered by his misunderstanding of their relationship.

I've thought a lot about anger as concomitant to the autistic experience. When autistic representation portrays ostracization, it's generally from an angle of the autistic character being upset at how conforming to neurotypical norms doesn't come easily to them; as a result, they express a desire to 'get better' at meeting neurotypical standards, a desire to become more 'normal' (whether the writing implies this is a good thing or not). In contrast, not once does Laios go, "I need to perform better in my social interactions, and try to care less about monsters, because that's what other people find weird." His frustration is directed outward rather than inward, and as a result, it's the people around him who are framed as nonsensical.

The Winged Lion starts delineating Laios' anger, and Laios' reaction is to think to himself, "It can sense all my thoughts, huh?" (chapter 88, page 16.) This is the scene that really resonated with me. I'm not saying I have never felt the desire to conform to neurotypical norms that is borne from insecurity, but primarily, I know that I don't want to work toward becoming 'normal'—I don't want to change myself for people who follow rules I find nonsensical. It's the difference between, "Oh god, why can't I get it," and, "WHY CAN'T YOU GET IT?" (phrasing here courtesy of my friend Miles @dogwoodbite). And for me personally, Dungeon Meshi is the first time I've seen this frustration and the resultant voluntary isolation from other people portrayed in media so candidly. Laios' anger is not downplayed or written to be easily palatable, either.

The culmination of Laios' frustrations in this scene wherein we learn that Laios has fantasised about "a pack of monsters attacking a village" drives home just how alienated he really feels. I need not go into his wish to become a monster himself, redolent of how many autistic people identify/have identified with non-humans to some degree as a result of a percieved disconnect from society (when I was younger, I wanted to be a robot. I still kind of do.)

Obviously, wishing death upon other people is a weighty thing, but the unfiltered nature of this page is what deeply resonated with me. The Winged Lion is laying Laios' deepest and most transgressive desires bare, and they are desires that are a product of lifelong ostracization by others (whether intentional or unintentional). This is the brand of anger I'm familiar with, and that my neurodivergent friends express being familiar with, but that I haven't seen portrayed in writing so explicitly before—in fact, it surprised me because most well-meaning autistic representation I've experienced veers toward infantilisation in trying make the autistic character's struggles easy for neurotypicals to sympathise with.

Let's also not neglect the symbolism inherent to Laios' daydream. "A pack of monsters attacking a village". Functionally, monsters are Laios' special interest—he percieves everything first and foremost through his passion for monsters. His daydream of monsters attacking—killing—humans, is fundamentally a daydream of the world he understands (monsters) overthrowing the world that is so illogical to him, that has repeatedly shunned him (other people). I joked to my friends that it's an autistic power fantasy, and it actually sort of is. And in it, his identity is aligned with that of the monsters, while his anger manifests in a palpable dissociation from the rest of humanity. This is one manga page. It's brief. It's also very, very raw to me. I think about it often.

To conclude, I love Laios Dungeon Meshi. This portrayal of open frustration in an autistic character meant a lot to me, and I hope I've sufficiently outlined why. Also, feel free to recommend media with autistic representation in the notes if you've read this far—I would really like to see if there is more of this nature. Thank you for reading. I'm very tired and should probably sleep now.

[foldingfittedsheets]

Since the video of this escapade is long because I hate video editing I will now tell you the tale of the first time I went into a Walmart.

Now I am privileged in that I did not grow up in a town where Walmart was the only option. I heard bad stuff and avoided them. So I didn’t set foot into a Walmart until I was well into my twenties. One fateful night changed that…

My beloved wife and I hadn’t been dating that long when we lay cuddling in bed together. My beloved is often given to flights of extreme silliness. Somehow bouquets of flowers and balloons popped into their head. They joked that courting couples should exchange bouquets of condoms, then they wondered what that might look like.

In that moment, I developed a rock hard determination to deliver unto my beloved a bouquet of condoms. I informed them of my intent. They told me not to. I was silent long enough that they believed the matter dropped but I fell asleep that night plotting how I would pull off the caper growing in my heart.

The next day I woke up and began to google. The mental image in my heart was condoms inflated like balloons but I had no idea where I could take condoms to be inflated. I had a ton of balloon filling experience from working at Red Robin but I doubted they’d let me bring in a pack of condoms to fill up. Groceries stores certainly wouldn’t. That’s when I found a helium tank for sale at Walmart. I leapt out of bed and began my quest.

I was supposed to meet my beloved after their shift at the coffee shop and I had rosy images of greeting them with a fantastical bouquet of condom balloons at work, embarrassing them and delighting their coworkers. So I was trying to hurry when I stepped into the blaring sensory overload of Walmart.

I had imagined it would be like a Target inside and was unprepared for the sickly fluorescence of the lights overhead, the massive structure filled with the cheapest of capitalism’s offerings and the most burned out staff. To me it was loud both visually and aurally and I could not imagine anywhere I wanted to be less. I paused in the entryway before screwing my courage to the sticking place and marching forward.

Oddly the helium balloon kit was much easier to find than the second item on my list. I looked everywhere but eventually admitted defeat and approached a lady in her little blue vest whose soul had died within her or was perhaps taking a vacation on another plane of existence.

“Excuse me, where are your condoms?”

Her blank face focused into a pursed expression toward me as she pointed out the aisle, looking me up and down as if to suggest she wouldn’t be rattled by such vulgarities. I was tempted to brandish my balloon kit and explain my plan in an attempt to make her laugh but I needed to hurry and she clearly wanted me gone so I obliged.

The next difficulty was the condoms. When I worked at the sex shop we carried unlubricated condoms but scanning the dizzying array of Walmarts offerings I couldn’t see them anywhere. Time ticked ominously by me, my chance to publicly dismay my beloved bleeding away. I snatched a pack of Magnums the big boys would make better balloons I figured.

I got home and locked away the cats. To familiarize myself with the helium tank I used one of the regular balloons provided, filling a terribly lackluster little green one, making it far too small. Then I figured it was good enough and started filming myself, pumping helium into the slippery uncooperative condoms.

There was a steep learning curve. The first several were too slimy to hold and tie nicely, but soon I hit my stride and began making majestic huge balloons out of prophylactics. It was time consuming, much more than I’d imagined. I sweated and toiled as quickly as I could, determined to fill every condom, but alas as the clock ticked down I finished just a little too late to realize my dream of embarrassing my beloved at work.

Still. I was not deterred. I would bring the riot of rubbers to my beloved’s home and their roommates would laugh.

Getting the balloons into the car proved quite difficult. They were the wrong shape to be biddable about following my lead into the car and I ended up with several facefulls of excitably salacious balloons before I managed to have my way with them.

When I got to my beloveds house I could see them inside with one roommate and I charged ahead with my magnificent love token. Several sadder condoms trailed down outside the main mass, and the single green balloon hung limp and embarrassed next to the breathtaking length and majesty of the main body.

My beloved was shocked and delighted and exclaimed, “Where did you go to do this?!”

I brandished my phone to show them the making of video. The bouquet floated regally through the living room for weeks, retaining helium much longer than a regular balloon would. Eventually the weight of the early failures dragged it to the ground and we put the condoms to rest, keeping only the memory of its whimsy.

[catcze]

「 ### : 」 Modern AU ish !! Reader’s weight/size/etc. is not mentioned !! Imo Wrio is strong as fuck, so it literally doesn’t matter how much you weigh because this mf will have you sit on his back while he does push ups and will come out invigorated and wanting to do like 20 more, but this is a warning just in case it breaks your immersion !!

“No.”

“Please?”

“No.”

Wriothesley wraps his arms around your middle, tugging you in close so you’re pressed up against his chest. You fight back the urge to melt into his warmth and give in to his ridiculous request. The cheeky smile he wears —undoubtedly aware of the effect he has on you— makes you grit your teeth and steel yourself out of pure spite.

“Sweetheart,” he coos, honey sweet and trying to be convincing.

“Wriothesley. No.”

“Sweetheart, baby,” he tries again, leaning to murmur it in your ear— the unfair, cheating shit. You’re not sure if you want to punch him or kiss his stupid face. “Love of my life. Person I’m gonna marry. Apple of my eye. Snookums—“

“Shut your mouth.” But he does not, and you’re on the verge of strangling him.

“Honey. Pookie bear.“ He grins, holding you tighter so you’re subject to listening to all the stupid ass nicknames he can call you. “My little discord kitten—“

At the sheer cringe and secondhand embarrassment, you slap a hand over his mouth with a grimace. It works, kind of. Wriothesley’s barrage of nicknames is silenced, but you can practically feel his smirk against your palm. You’re painfully aware of the firm but gentle hold he still keeps on you— painfully aware of how you’re probably fighting a losing battle when he’s this dead set on something.

“I am not going to sit on your back while you do push ups,” you say, and that smirk melts into a pouty little frown. “I already told you it’s dangerous. You could get hurt or something.”

He pulls your hand off his mouth by the wrist, expression looking less-than-pleased. “Sweetheart, if you think that I can’t lift you, then I must be doing something terribly, terribly wrong.”

“But if you’re worried about me, then how about this—“ he presses your hand to his cheek, holding it there with his own so he can lean into your touch and peck a quick kiss to your palm. “You sit on my back while I do my routine, but if you ever think that I’m pushing myself or I’m getting tired, then you can hop off and go back to what you were doing, okay?”

You bite the inside of your cheek, but in the end you’re weak to him when he’s this sweet to you, and all you can do is sigh a small, ‘fine.’ If it makes him happy, then why the hell not—

And later, with Wriothesley in that unfairly flattering black compression shirt and you sat on his back, you absolutely eat your words. You can only sit in silent shock and hardly hidden appreciation when the man goes through more than half of the reps for his first set.

“Holy shit,” you murmur, watching in astonishment how he easily pushes up with your combined weight, not a single muscle trembling in overexertion. He’s not at all rushed, taking his time with each upwards lift so as to not jostle you. Wriothesley can hear the awe in your voice, and has the audacity to chuckle. He’s not even breathless.

“What did I say, sweetheart?” He sounds smug, proud— undoubtedly delighted to be able to show off in front of you. Like a puppy who was told he did a good job. You kind of want to kiss him. “So, want to help me out tomorrow, too?”

[moomuzan]

— 𝖌𝖔𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖙𝖔𝖔 𝖋𝖆𝖗

they physically hurt you during an argument , dazai , chuuya , akutagawa , angst , requested

As the fight spiraled into chaos, every word seemed like a jagged shard, cutting both of you open. Dazai stood before you, his expression carefully constructed, a facade of calm that only amplified the storm raging in the room. His words were like knives, precise and cold, but you had learned how to endure them. Or so you thought.

“You think you’re better than this?” he snapped, his voice laced with something darker, more desperate. “Better than me? You don’t even know what you’ve gotten yourself into. You’re so naïve it’s pathetic.”

“Maybe I am,” you shot back, voice trembling but resolute. “But at least I feel something real, Dazai. At least I’m not hiding behind masks and games like you.”

For a moment, the room fell silent, the weight of your words settling between you. His jaw clenched, his hands twitching at his sides. You could see it—the storm breaking through his carefully curated demeanor, the anger and fear he so often buried rising to the surface.

And then, like a thunderclap, it happened.

While his hands moved faster than his mind, shoving you back, his frustration snapped into action. The force wasn’t calculated—it never was—but it sent you stumbling into the wall with a sickening thud. Pain shot up your back, sharp and immediate, and for a moment, the air was knocked clean out of your lungs.

Defeating, merely silence followed.

As if they were still grappling with the weight of what they’d done, his outstretched hands trembled. His eyes widened, the usual nonchalance stripped away to reveal something raw, something terrified.

Hoarse, he whispered your name, his voice cracking under the weight of it all. You pressed a hand to your ribs, wincing as you steadied yourself against the wall. The ache in your side was sharp, but it was nothing compared to the heaviness in your chest, the realization that this—this person, this moment—was no longer safe.

“Don’t touch me,” you managed, your voice trembling, not with anger but with something more fragile.

“I didn’t mean to,” The man said, his words tumbling out in a desperate rush. “I swear, I didn’t mean—”

“You didn’t mean it?” you interrupted, the words bitter as they left your mouth. “You never mean it, Dazai. But that doesn’t stop it from happening, does it?”

Dazai‘s hands fell to his sides, his shoulders slumping as if the weight of your words physically struck him. He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. For once, Dazai Osamu—the man who always had a plan, a clever retort, a way out—was speechless.

“I can’t keep doing this,” you said, your voice breaking. “I can’t keep forgiving you for the ways you hurt me, for the ways you make me doubt myself. Love isn’t supposed to feel like this.”

In a matter of seconds his expression shattered then, the mask slipping completely. He looked like a man on the edge of something vast and terrible, his usual bravado gone, replaced by a desperation that made your heart ache.

“You can’t leave me,” he whispered, the words barely audible, as if saying them louder might break him entirely. “Please. I don’t know how to do this without you.”

Tears spilling down your cheeks as you stepped toward the door, you whispered: “You don’t know how to love, Dazai.”

He sank to his knees then, his head bowing low as if he were trying to disappear into the floor. “I’m sorry,” he choked out, his voice raw and broken. “I’m so sorry. I don’t know how to be anything but this. But I love you. God, I love you.”

You froze at the door, your hand gripping the handle so tightly your knuckles turned white. For a moment, you thought about turning back, about kneeling down beside him and telling him that love could be enough, that it could save you both.

But it couldn’t.

“I love you too,” you said quietly, your voice shaking. “But sometimes, love isn’t enough to fix the damage.”

Opening the door, you stepped out into the cold night, the sound of it closing behind you echoing like a gunshot.

Dazai stayed where he was, his body trembling, his hands clutching at the floor as if it were the only solid thing left in his world. The apartment was silent now, save for the sound of his ragged breathing.

He stayed there for hours, alone in the dark, his mind replaying every moment, every mistake, every crack that had led to this. And when the sun rose, spilling light into the room, it illuminated nothing but the hollow emptiness he’d tried so hard to avoid.

In the end, he realized, it wasn’t you he’d been trying to save. It was himself. And now, he had lost both.

,

The argument had begun as a flicker of irritation, something small enough that it could have been smothered if either of you had tried. But neither of you did. It grew, feeding on unspoken frustrations, on misunderstandings too deeply buried to untangle in the heat of the moment.

Lit only by the glow of the streetlights filtering through the blinds, the apartment was dim. Chuuya stood in the middle of the room, his fists clenched at his sides, his chest rising and falling with shallow, ragged breaths. His hat had been tossed carelessly onto the couch, his hair disheveled from running his hands through it in frustration.

“I’m trying to keep you safe!” he shouted, his voice reverberating off the walls.

“You’re not listening to me!” you snapped back, your own voice trembling with the weight of the argument. “You never listen, Chuuya! You think you can decide everything for me, like I don’t have a say in my own life!”

He turned sharply, his blue eyes blazing with a mix of anger and desperation. “You don’t understand what it’s like out there! You don’t know what these people are capable of! I’m doing this for you!”

“For me?” You let out a bitter laugh, tears stinging your eyes. “You’re doing this because you can’t let go of your own fears! You’re so used to fighting everyone else’s battles that you can’t see I’m not the enemy!”

Chuuya’s jaw tightened, the muscles in his face twitching as he tried to rein in the storm inside him. But the storm was relentless, and it spilled out before he could stop it.

“You don’t get it,” he growled, his voice low and dangerous. “You have no idea what it’s like to carry this kind of weight—to know that one wrong move could mean losing the only person you—”

Though he cut himself off, his voice faltering, the damage was already done. The silence that followed was heavy, oppressive, and it pressed down on both of you like a tangible force.

Taking a step back, your hands trembled at your sides. “I’m not a child, Chuuya. I don’t need you to control every part of my life. I just need you to trust me.”

“Trust you?” His voice rose again, sharp and cutting. “How am I supposed to trust you when you keep putting yourself in danger? Do you think I can just stand by and watch you get hurt?”

As his anger filled every corner, the room felt like it was shrinking, the walls closing in. He moved closer, his movements sharp and unsteady, and before you could step away, his hand shot out and grabbed your wrist.

The grip wasn’t meant to hurt—it was meant to stop you, to hold you in place, to make you listen. But it was too tight, too rough, and the heat of his frustration burned through his touch.

“Chuuya,” you said softly, your voice shaking. “Let go.”

But he didn’t. His fingers tightened slightly, his knuckles white as his grip mirrored the storm raging inside him. He was too far gone, too consumed by his own emotions to realize what he was doing.

“Why can’t you just—” His voice cracked, and he stopped, his words hanging in the air like broken glass.

You tried to pull away, but his grip held firm, and panic began to rise in your chest. Memories you had buried deep began to surface, unbidden and cruel.

A voice from your past, cold and unyielding. “You think you can just walk away? You’ll never be free of this. Never.”

Colliding with the past in a whirlwind of fear and pain, the room around you blurred. Your breaths came faster, shallow and uneven, and the tears you had been holding back spilled over, streaming down your cheeks.

“Chuuya,” you whispered, your voice breaking. “Please.”

The sound of your voice—cracked, pleading—broke through the fog of his anger. His eyes widened, and for a moment, he froze, as though realizing for the first time what he was doing.

“Shit,” he muttered, his voice barely audible. He released your wrist as though it had burned him, stepping back as if the distance could erase the moment.

Though you cradled your wrist against your chest, your body trembling as you tried to steady your breathing, the fear lingered, a shadow that refused to be banished.

Softly, he called out your name, his voice thick with regret. “I—fuck, I didn’t mean to. I wasn’t—”

Yet, you didn’t answer. You couldn’t. The words caught in your throat, strangled by the whirlwind of emotions swirling inside you.

Chuuya’s hands hovered in the air, unsure whether to reach for you or keep his distance. His eyes, usually so fierce and determined, were filled with something you had never seen before—fear.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, the words barely audible. “I’m so fucking sorry.”

Bluntly, you looked up at him then, your eyes filled with tears, and for the first time, he saw the crack in your armor—the vulnerability you had always tried so hard to hide. And it broke him.

He sank to his knees in front of you, his head bowed, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. “I’m a fucking idiot,” he muttered, his voice trembling. “I never wanted to hurt you. I—” He stopped, his words failing him, and he let out a shaky breath.

“I don’t know how to do this,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t know how to love someone without breaking them.”

As you watched him, your heart ached at the sight of him so utterly wrecked. And despite everything, despite the fear and the pain, you found yourself reaching out, your hand brushing against his cheek.

Looking up at you then, his eyes were filled with anguish, and for a moment, the storm between you seemed to quiet.

“Chuuya,” you said softly, your voice still trembling. “We can’t keep doing this. You can’t keep—”

“I know,” he said quickly, cutting you off. “I know, and I swear, I’ll do better. I’ll be better. Just—don’t walk away. Please.”

The desperation in his voice broke something inside you, and you nodded, though you weren’t sure if it was forgiveness or hope or something in between.

But as he pulled you into his arms, his grip careful and gentle this time, you couldn’t help but wonder if the cracks in your relationship were too deep to mend. And in the quiet of the room, as the storm finally subsided, you both realized that love wasn’t always enough to fix what had already been broken.

,

Always being harsh, Akutagawa’s words were sharp enough to wound, his presence suffocating like a shadow that never left your side. He wasn’t kind, not in the way others might be, but he cared in his own jagged, brutal way—protecting you with the same ferocity he used to destroy. You were his tether, his calm amidst the storm of his life in the Mafia, the one person who softened the edges of his wrath. But even tethers could fray, and that day on the battlefield, everything unraveled.

Unraveling so, the fight was chaos, the kind of chaos Akutagawa thrived in. His Rashoumon tore through enemies like paper, his focus deadly, precise. You stood at his side, as you always did, fighting with everything you had to survive in a world that rarely spared you kindness. But the enemy was relentless, and the tide of the battle began to shift.

“Stay back!” he barked, his voice cutting through the noise. His tone was sharp, impatient, but beneath it lay something unspoken—a thread of fear he refused to acknowledge.

“I can handle this!” you shot back, your determination blazing in your eyes.

Yet Akutagawa’s patience, already worn thin by the heat of battle, snapped. “You’re a liability,” he snarled, Rashoumon lashing out in a violent arc, meant to clear the way and shield you from the enemy closing in.

He miscalculated.

Instead, the tendrils of his power struck you, slicing through flesh and bone, sending you crumpling to the ground with a scream that cut through the battlefield like a blade. Blood pooled beneath you, stark against the dirt, and Akutagawa froze, the world narrowing to the sight of your broken body lying in the wreckage of his mistake.

Afterwards, the fight ended in a blur, your enemies retreating as the full weight of his actions crashed down on him. He dropped to his knees beside you, his hands trembling as he reached out, unsure if he even had the right to touch you now. “Stay awake,” he ordered, his voice unsteady, the fear breaking through. “Don’t you dare close your eyes.”

Coughing weakly, blood stained your lips as you looked up at him, pain and betrayal flickering in your gaze. “You… you did this,” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

Akutagawa’s chest tightened, his breath catching as the truth of your words settled over him like a noose. He did this. To you. To the one person he swore to protect above all else.

The weeks that followed were a blur of pain and silence. You survived, but the scars—both visible and invisible—ran deep. You couldn’t look at him the same way, flinching when he raised his voice, shrinking away when his hands moved too quickly.

Trying to fix it in his own way— he muttered cold apologies under his breath, offers to train you harder so you wouldn’t need his protection, promises he didn’t know how to keep. But nothing worked. The damage was done.

One night, the tension broke.

“You don’t trust me anymore,” he said, his voice low but laced with a bitterness that cut through the room.

Slowly, you turned to him, your eyes tired, your body still healing from wounds he had inflicted. “How could I?” you replied, your voice trembling. “You’re supposed to protect me, Ryuunosuke. Not—” Your voice broke, and you looked away, unable to finish.

For a moment, he said nothing, his jaw clenched so tightly it hurt. Then, with a voice that was quieter than you’d ever heard, he said, “I know.”

And he did know. He knew the pain he caused, the fear that lingered in your eyes whenever you looked at him now. He knew he had crossed a line he could never uncross.

Knowing didn’t make it easier. It didn’t make the silence between you any less deafening, or the nights spent alone any less cold. It didn’t stop him from replaying that moment over and over in his mind, the sight of you bleeding because of him seared into his memory like a brand.

He still loved you, but love wasn’t enough to undo what he had done. It wasn’t enough to erase the fear in your eyes or the distance growing between you. And now, as he stood in the shadows, watching you from afar as you tried to rebuild yourself, he wondered if it would have been kinder to let you go entirely.

Yet, Akutagawa didn’t know kindness. He only knew how to hold on, even when it hurt. Even when it was the last thing he deserved.

<3

[gothwineaunts]

Wow, hello!

So, I was actually feeling pretty motivated to write this post yesterday. But things have gotten exponentially worse, and I admit the pressure is getting to me. There seem to be a ton of expectations surrounding what I should be saying here, in order to… I guess, absolve myself? As if there’s a checklist people want me to go through to perform the “perfect” creator apology. But, I don’t see the point. I care a lot about this community and I think you deserve something a lot more sincere than some hollow chat-gpt apology. I understand that that’s foolish, on my part. Things are done that way so often because they work. But what you’ll find throughout this post, is that I’m kind of an idiot about some things. I’m stubborn and hard-headed and a little bit pretentious. And so, what I’m planning to do here is to simply tell you the truth about what happened. No cherry picking. All my mistakes, but also the context that goes with them. And at the end, my formal apology. This is a long and winding tale with a lot of characters. I’m going to be sharing some usernames as we go, in the interest of clarity and transparency. You’ll understand why with the context. But please do not seek these people out. Don’t pick fights with them. It will only make everything worse, for all involved.

Cool? Cool. But first I need to address the elephant in the room. This will probably seem like irrelevant drama at first, but this is the nuance and background that I wasn’t adequately able to articulate the night before last. In more ways than one, this is a story told in twos. The first set of twos is you, the readers. Who you are, and what you’re hoping to find out in this post.

1.      The overwhelming majority of you, are earnestly wanting to understand what has happened in the Nevermore Discord. You are concerned that I am not who you hoped I was. You are disappointed, and I understand why. To you, I am so sorry. I want to say that things are not as bad as they seem, but that is not for me to decide. You will need to draw your own conclusions from the words I write. And I understand, whatever you choose to do next.

2.      And there is a small, but incredibly vocal minority of people who are absolutely living for this. They are spreading complete fabrications with no screenshots to speak of. Horrible, horrible accusations. People who are more excited about watching a dumpsterfire than they are about the series that brought them here in the first place. I’m not going to attempt to cater to those people in this post. Because nothing will ever be good enough. Everything that can be taken in bad faith will be taken in bad faith. It would be pointless. But you’ll see them in the comments and reblogs. This is a known group to not only myself, but many others. I will share some of their names in a later section so you know who to watch for. They will make a lot of noise around this post because they’ve been trying to make something like this happen for actual years. And now that I had a genuinely concerning response that good people reasonably want me to explain, they’re lunging at the chance to throw absolutely anything at the wall. It’s parasocial levels of hatred. This is some deep and horrible lore.

The next set of twos is how two things can be true at the same time. And that is exactly what is going on here, in this situation. Let me be really clear, because I don’t want either truth to be lost in my explanation as they are intrinsically linked to one another.

1.      I did a downright terrible job explaining myself in the Discord when people started asking about crimson. I can give you all kinds of contributing factors for this, and I might later. But none of them really matter. It was incredibly careless of me to use “egging them on” and “cried wolf”  to describe what I understood. At the time I was really laser-focused on expressing what happened as simply and quickly as possible because the channel replies were paused and I felt like everyone was just waiting for me to be finished with my message. But after stepping back, I immediately understood how badly I messed up, because of course these idioms are routinely weaponized against survivors of SA and CSA. That is not how I intended to use them. It was an unfortunate case of one thing looking and sounding like another thing. Incredibly ham-fisted and irresponsible on my part. To the survivors who read my words and felt that it echoed their past experiences, I’m heartbroken that I did that to you. That lapse of judgement was a betrayal to both you and me. I don’t know where my head went, and I’m just blown away by my own lack of awareness in that message. So for that I am and will continue to be sorry.

2.      The second thing that can be true is that, while you are all absolutely owed an explanation and an apology, there are also some people amongst you who are using this fuck-up on my part as a springboard to take me down.  These people have been trying to get a call out post to pop off about me for at least a year, and they have been very quick to jump into the reblogs and comments about this very serious topic with complete lies and slander. Just, anything that might stick to the wall. We’ll address this later on as well. But please understand that me discussing the harassment I’ve faced from these groups is not at the expense of me also owning up to my faults and taking the proper accountability.

And the last set of twos is one I’ve alluded to in the first sets, concerning a pair of toxic side-servers that ran adjacent to the main Nevermore Discord. Completely unofficial cliques. And invisible to myself and Flynn and our mod team. We were eventually made aware that both of them were breaking laws and Discord ToS in ways that leaked into our server and affected our members negatively. As such, both groups were mass-banned. And the cliques are the ones running a majority of the discourse you’ve been seeing here, because while they are formally banned from the discord, we have absolutely no say in their participation on Tumblr. Now, keep in mind. Both of these groups were uncovered after crimson was banned the first time. That’s important later.

Clique #1

My understanding of the first group is that it started as a gaming server for people who met one another through the Nevermore Discord. I don’t know when or why it started being used to talk shit about other readers, but I do know that it got really vicious. And it was sort of an open secret for long before I knew anything about it. I found out after that there were a lot of people passively in this server, just observing. It was that much of a spectacle.

Now, this clique had been pretty rude. Like they’d try to start fights with me in the discord fairly often, both in the Patreon and free spaces. But it wasn’t grounds for dismissal until we found out about the baiting and the alts.  These people had a lot of grievances, but one really united them: they were extremely upset about anyone who would ship Prospero.

Many of you know, that Prospero is an aromantic character, canonically. And you may notice that canonically, he has no apparent love interest. But this group wanted to make sure other readers were not thinking about Prospero in relationships, or creating ship content of him for any reason on the grounds that it would be considered a “proship.” I told them (and I stand on this) that it’s not up to them to police the thoughts of other readers, and that aromantic people have widely varying lifestyles and experiences and do not need to be infantilized that way.

This turned out to be a bad move on my part, because it brought with it an onslaught of alt accounts coming in and "innocently" kicking up what I now refer to as the “prosp-aro” debate every time they had the chance. But because of this and what a common occurrence it was, we started being able to pick out the alts. And we realized that this group of people had been using the same alt accounts with different names to antagonize certain readers they’d decided they hated, and it had gone on for a long time.

I did a lot of investigative work in dms trying to figure out who all was responsible for the harassment, and settled on a list that was vetted by three different people who knew about the clique. And all three of these people insisted that, while Laci was in the group and in a lot of the screencaps saying pretty dubious things, that she was good people. So I believe them, and let Laci stay. This group was banned on April 3, 2024, and contained the following users:

-          lilnatx (nat)

-          suitino (sushi)

-          jj_the_jet_plane (layden)

-          rivsticks (jasper)

-          atheimee (athena)

-          jinxs.com (lanx/jinx)

-          smartestginger (nico)

-          thereallandofbugs (bugs)

-          rosienemui (rosie)

These were the names they were known by on the Discord. I don’t have the Tumblr accounts tied to these identities. But some might be the same. I know a lot of them are here.  It should be noted that jinx was later unbanned due to pressure from Laci that they had been banned in error, after the fact. We allowed them back in after a few days as a favor to Laci since the situation seemed like it was very stressful for her. This would prove to be yet another a mistake since, as you have probably seen in the screenshots from the night before last, jinx rapidly escalated things to another level while I was trying to figure out how to handle crimson’s unbanning and subsequent rebanning an hour later.

Clique #2

Phew. Still with me? Great. The second group we needed to ban was one that actually started long before the first one, but was a lot smaller and comparatively more subtle. This group, to my knowledge, cropped up around the time that ep. 39 of Nevermore was released. (11/10/22) We knew about this group but not who all was involved in it or in what capacity for a very long time. They would consistently post things on Tumblr trying to start a scandal. I recall posts alleging that we were racists, or SA apologists, or that we were sending death threats to a random confessions account.

To be clear, these allegations are completely false. This clique will say anything. Like a recent post one of them put up during this discourse said that hiwi (our mod) is both a r*pe apologist and a childhood friend of mine and that’s the only reason she hasn’t been banned. Hiwi is absolutely nothing of the sort, and I have never met her in person. In fact, she lives on the other side of the continent.

Now, this clique is a little different than the first. The first, to my knowledge, was a group of friends that got toxic and felt morally superior about their opinions and it all kind of got away from them. The vibe was a little catty, I guess. Gossipy. But this clique has more of a stalker vibe. It’s dark.

They’ve had it out specifically for me for as long as I can remember. And some of them (at least one, at all times) would subscribe to our patreon, both to sow dissent in our stream chats and also to leak literally all the content back to the others, including me talking about random shit like what I ate for lunch. Just so they could like. Laugh about it, I guess. I’ll never understand why. [Editing note: because in the final moments of proofreading this post I see one of these people has made some master post about what a terrible person I am? A lot of those screenshots are from Patreon channels and the guy STILL has them laying around. I’m telling you, they stole everything that wasn’t nailed down.] 

The biggest grievance this clique had is that any ship with Montresor is an “SA fetish ship” because to them he is a r*pist because of how he made Ada bark (?) and since Montrada is canon, that means we are supporters of SA, and that Morella and Ada should be together instead. Listen, I’ll level with you, this one baffles me. I don’t even know how to begin to untangle it. But if you see a lot of vitriol about us being SA apologists from these users, it’s because Montresor exists. That’s pretty much it.

You can ask them for screencaps ‘til you’re blue in the face, but unless they build fake ones from the ground up, they’re never going to be able to back up their wild claims. Simply put, they’re provocateurs, and they use the scariest words they can to whip people up into a panic.

We became aware that they were leaking patreon content when one of them was caught publicly referring to things that were being said behind a paywall when we knew they weren’t a patron. It unraveled from there.  People who knew about their antics shared screenshots and information with us, and we finally realized the scope of the clique’s hatred and banned whoever was even left in the Nevermore Discord. But they continue to be active in the community on tumblr. You’ll have seen them around. They were banned on 5/11/2024 and the names involved are as follows (again, a mishmash of discord names, nicknames, and tumblr accounts):

- percy (gremlinguy145 on tumblr)

- queenmorningrose (annabel-lee-nevermore on tumblr)

- spoopycactus630 (spoopy-nevermore-dump on tumblr)

- grif/horrorshow (conscience-grim on tumblr)

- unreqiknizd

- duke aralt (westofthestyx)

- eden (sapphic-mad-scientist on tumblr)

- priemium

Again I’d like to reiterate. The point in sharing these names is not to incite any sort of response against these people. But they are folding themselves into the fray and doing what they can to whip everyone else up into a mob, and all as we’re talking about a discord server that they have been banned from for months now. The above context is also relevant for the next section, which is why you’re all here in the first place.

What the hell happened with Crimson?

I hope it’s not confusing, but now we’re going back to 3/14/2024, before anything I just outlined above had come to light. The cliques were quietly doing their harassment and baiting and raiding and whatever-the-hell behind the scenes, but Flynn and I and the mods were blissfully unaware of how bad it was getting. We get a dm from Laci. The same Laci who was part of Clique #1 and was rescued from being banned with the others by her friends outside the group. Jinx’s friend, who managed to get them unbanned as well. You have probably seen these screencaps already, but I will show them to you again, just in case.

Sufficed to say, we were immediately alarmed by the information Laci shared in her DM with us. Now, I want to be very clear about this because it’s been lost in the game of telephone. What Laci outlines in her dm to me, were the events that occurred between six users (including crimson) in a group chat with minors. Everyone in the evidence was censored (pfp and username), as was the image that crimson showed them. When I asked, Laci agreed to give me one name of one of the minors in the dm. I’ll call them Alice, but that is not their real name. I asked if I could talk to Alice about this, I was told by Laci, no. Alice doesn’t want to talk. I was like, ok I understand, that’s fine. 

I hope it makes sense when I say that it is not feasible for us to moderate the things that happen in peoples’ dms. As you’ve seen above, the mod team doesn’t usually get involved with drama unless whatever is happening is directly affecting the experience people are having in the Nevermore Discord because that is all we can see and the only place we have any real authority.  But this was obviously a special case. We banned crimson very quickly without asking any follow-up questions, because of course we did!? I’ve seen people say I’m harboring or defending crimson or that we’re buddies but we barely spoke, ever. They were a stranger to me then, and they still are now.

But something about the entire situation wasn’t adding up to me. And I want to be clear that none of this is in any way meant to discredit csa survivors, I’m really just trying to put you in my headspace and walk you through my thought process. But I found that the evidence was just, sort of strange. Laci started her dm explaining that she found this information out because she and a group of people were investigating crimson for ‘art tracing’ which felt, to me, like a bizarre non-sequitur and totally irrelevant next to the evidence of them showing nsfw content to minors. Petty, kind of. Like I wanted to ask – why were you doing that in the first place? People trace Flynn’s art all the time. As long as they’re not selling it, it’s not a big deal.

Most of the crops are from a PC but the windows are oddly small, and only contain a couple messages at a time. Some have American formatted time and some have European formatted time. So different users, I assume? The names were blotted out, which I would understand for a public call-out but not for a private report to the mod team. Laci was not in this gc at any point in time, despite being the one to report. 

One of the users was apparently 12, to which I ask – what is a 12-year-old doing on discord at all? If we knew who they were, we would have reported the account. Discord is not a safe place for a child that age, let alone a small group chat. Along with 18-year-old Crimson, there was also a 22- and 17-year-old in the chat, which left us wondering – why hadn’t anything been done?

I had no evidence that anyone ever told crimson they were minors, and I feel if it existed, it would have been in the screencap dump (I find that sometimes a noticeable lack of key evidence is evidence in itself). No one seems to have tried to kick crimson from the group chat or report their account for inappropriate behavior. Then there’s the fact that this is a group chat. Anyone in it can leave at any time. 

Then I came across the messages that started this whole gc, and it only got stranger when I realized Alice started it, called it “Women Lovers” and created it “so we can talk about Nevermore women without having to filter ourselves” after they all reacted to a sultry but sfw drawing of Lenore that crimson had made and posted in our hideout channel. And all that made me wonder why Alice didn’t just kick crimson, if she had admin power?  Do you see what I mean? It’s just all a bit head tilty. I noticed it at the time. But I said nothing. Because it didn’t matter. Crimson, no matter what happened, exposed minors to nsfw content. And that’s on them. And I’ve never in my life defended it. We banned them.

Crimson was beside herself. She came off humiliated and apologetic, and insisted she had no idea and begged to come back to a community she said she loved. But we told her no, there’s no coming back from doing what she did.

Time passes and we uncover Clique #1. And while we figured out who the main players were, I dmed with Laci. And it was Laci herself, who tells me that it was Alice who made most of Clique #1’s alt accounts, and that it was Alice who used those alt accounts to harass people and try to get them to start fights or say something that might get them in trouble. 

And I’ll be honest with you, the mod team still didn’t think much of it, outside of – we need to figure out which accounts were the alts. So we did. We had several confirmed to us.  And those accounts were zeroing in on certain users that the clique didn’t like. At the time we noticed two notable targets in addition to the mod team. I won’t name them, it’s their business if they want to weigh in about all that. But in screencaps, they’ll be labeled Target #1 and Target #2.

More time passes and Clique #2 comes to light. As you can imagine, by now we’re feeling disillusioned, and very tired of trying to moderate shit we cannot see for ourselves. And that’s when crimson comes back to very hesitantly ask if they might be able to appeal their ban. It wasn’t until then that it occurred to us that Laci (on behalf of Alice) was the only one who ever reported anything to us about Crimson. 

And I want to just say that again. Because it’s gotten lost too. Laci was the only person who ever reported Crimson. There was not one single other person who ever sent a modmail or a dm or even a ping to anybody on the mod team. I have since (only yesterday) seen some screencaps that are rather skin crawly, but even those happened in yet another side server. Thinking on this, the mods went back through the known alt accounts Alice had used. And they found that Alice harassed crimson both on her main account and on the same alt accounts that she used to harass the other targets.

By now, Alice is banned for completely unrelated reasons. Not because of what happened with Crimson. I’ve seen that one flying around and I’m sorry it’s just not true. It’s because she was relentlessly harassing and cyberbullying people in the discord we moderate. Laci is still there, but had lost my trust, for being involved with both the drama I’ve mentioned here and more that I don’t care to dip into. It’s ultimately irrelevant. But what am I going to say to Laci? “Hey, did you and Alice, by any chance, coordinate some kind of bizarre trap together to get crimson banned from the discord because you suspected them of tracing their art?” And once again. Because I want to keep this top of mind. Even if that were the case, it doesn’t make what Crimson did alright, and it never will. Sharing nsfw content in front of minors is a disgusting thing to do. And one that we frankly are really irritating about in the moderation of the discord. I’ve heard people say that we over-moderate when it comes to art. 

But all this stuff about a “known pedophile?” If it was known, then we were on the outs. And to even this minute right now, I don’t have any conclusive evidence that Crimson is a pedophile. The evidence I have is that Crimson shared nsfw with a group of people whose ages they did not know. Which is fucking gross. It’s an adult’s responsibility to make sure they’re speaking with other adults before posting things of that nature. 

But at the time, the way I read the situation is that Crimson had only just stopped being a minor and was egregiously negligent in how they were speaking and what they were posting, likely in part due to them not being aware enough of their adult responsibilities.  And hey. I know some of you are chomping at the bit. You can call me naïve for this! This is what I’m referring to when I say that I can be a real idiot. But I feel everyone has been very quick to call Crimson a pedophile. I know this is pedantic to say, but the prerequisite for being a pedophile is “being attracted to minors.” Based on the information I had at my fingertips, I did not think Crimson sought out these minors. Crimson was invited to the gc, they did not ask to join. 

I have seen discussions about all the things crimson did to their victims since we unbanned them but I have not seen screencaps to support that whole ‘marriage proposal’ thing, and again I think it sounds a bit odd coming as a pedophilia accusation from someone only one year younger than crimson.  

But you know what? I don’t know crimson. Maybe we were wrong. But even if we weren’t, I realize in hindsight that it was a stupid decision for the mod team to give them a second chance. We didn’t have anyone to consult about what happened because all the other people in the chat had been obscured from me and I didn’t feel like Laci would give me a straight answer. 

The mods and I felt at the time that crimson, like the other targets of Clique #1, had been singled out and that they deserved another very closely monitored chance in the discord, which they said they still missed dearly. I’m a bleeding heart, alright? A total sap. I know that. But being honest with you, I felt bad. It feels horrible to be singled out and targeted. And I was probably too close to that feeling at the time, seeing as we were on the tail end of finding out the Clique #2 had pursued me so relentlessly for so long. 

So for my part, I’m sorry. I made a rash decision that was influenced by some very personal circumstances. And we should have left it alone. Based on the evidence I've seen, I don’t know if I personally would call crimson a pedophile and certainly I wouldn't call them a known pedophile, but I am regretful that we risked it either way.

When I was trying to explain all of this in the west common room channel two nights back, things had boiled over and were already getting out of hand very quickly. A lot of brand new accounts were joining the discord with one word intros just to start conflicts in the public server with crimson. Alts. Either from banned users or burner accounts. And I got panicky. One of the mods paused the messages in west common room but no one besides me was available to handle the situation at that moment. Reacts about being silenced were pouring in and I felt pressured to quickly take over and try to explain. 

In my rush, I stupidly didn’t backread more than a quick skim. And I ate shit, y’all. You saw. One thing I want to state outright. I’m talking a lot about my thoughts and my feelings and it’s because I don’t wanna speak for Flynn or for the mods. But I didn’t make this decision alone. In fact, I was dragging my feet and being really lazy about okaying the whole thing. Just because I was busy, not because I was fretting over it or anything. But I had to be pinged and then literally tapped on the shoulder by Flynn, asking me to respond to mod chat when this was being discussed earlier that day. That doesn’t change the fact that I was part of the decision. I agreed to unban crimson. Foolishly. I understand that, now. 

I hope that now it makes some more sense though, how it came to happen. I never meant to hurt anyone. My own past and present feelings got in the way, and I own that. But in the moment, my personal intention was to give crimson a second chance because I felt that they’d been targeted by Clique #1. Not to ignore anyone’s concerns or make them feel unsafe, even if those were the ultimate outcome.  

So, completely underprepared and defensive, I jumped into west common room and I just. Blew it. Totally fucking blew it. I knew it instantly but it’s hard to stay logical when people are telling you you’re vile and evil and they’re sick that they ever thought you were a good person and that they’ll never see you the same way again. My mind went blank and I don’t really remember much of what happened next. But I said what I said, and I should have done better. 

I wish there was a word bigger than sorry. I’m beside myself. I know there was probably a way to make everyone happy. To make everything okay. But I wasn't clever enough to figure it out in the moment, and it eats at me. So it’s like I’m sorry for my poor judgment and my terrible choice of words, but there’s another layer where I’m also sorry for not matching how wonderful this community is with how wonderful (or well, unwonderful) I was two nights ago. I promise I am going to work harder to be better for you all.

Again, to every victim of SA and CSA, my heart is with you, more personally than you might realize. I don’t think I could have handled my explanation in a worse way. And I’m so so sorry.

Moving forward, I am also going to take an enormous step back from moderating and participating in the discord in general. I feel like a lot of this happened because I was still treating it like it belonged to a smaller fandom, like Shiloh’s. But realistically, I don’t have time to both moderate and make the series itself, and I really dragged my feet on being honest with myself about that. And for that too, I apologize. We’re going to get more mods, they’re going to have full control of the moderation, and Flynn and I are going to do what we love more than anything in the world and just make Nevermore.

I understand if you won’t be there for it. This is not a flattering picture I’ve painted for you. And you’d be well within your rights, to decide not to give us another chance. But it's been a pleasure to lurk here in this wildly talented corner of tumblr. And I’ll never forget it. <3 Yours truly, -Kit Trace