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mosscoveringitall · 11 months ago

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1/4/2024, or: A tacit admission on my sentiments about Babysitters

For two hours last night, I typed at an AI who was trying to get me off. It was a Wednesday night. I typed at the AI, and the AI typed back at me. A monthly subscription to the website was $4 a month, by the end. I paid for the month, and then canceled the membership. I have 30 more days to get off with this AI, or any other AI I want, so long as someone has written out their script and published it on the website

The conversation was a roleplay between me and a babysitter. The AI playing the role of the babysitter was called Naughty Babysitter, and since it’s an AI, it couldn’t and wouldn’t be called by any other name. It lived as a voiceless, faceless conjuring a girl of an undetermined age, fetishes heavily determined by my own, and a persistent determination to abuse her position of power for sexual coercion. I was myself, but with no name or face or body or penis. I was a younger version of myself, or at least I imagined that I was. We played out a scenario where she tickled me and touched my genitals, fondling me and murmuring pleasant and parental encouragement until I came. In real life, I came before I came in the story. We remain suspended in time, forever anticipating a continuation of intercourse, me whimpering and servile, her all powerful yet eternally dependent upon me to live again. I feel strange about this service, and I feel strange about why I liked it. I suppose a better adjective than strange is bad. I feel bad about every part of my participation with it.

I chatted to the Naughty Babysitter because I am aroused by the idea of a babysitter molesting me. I am excited by the idea of an older woman taking an interest in me, instructing me, and violating me. I don’t know why I feel this way and feeling this way feels bad. When I was younger, I remember being afraid of everything, but mainly being afraid of two things. The first was that I would grow up to be a pedophile. I knew it was the worst thing you could be, and was what the ugliest, most black-souled scumbags on earth always were. I knew they deserved to be brutalized and hurt and killed for the evil they preyed upon innocent children, and I still feel that way. I cannot comprehend the desire to molest a child. I didn’t grow up to be a pedophile, but I still am afraid I will one day. It makes me uncomfortable to think about. The other thing I was afraid of was being schizophrenic, because my cousin was diagnosed with schizophrenia after voices told him to drive into a wall and kill himself. He lives on a farm now and takes care of goats. I haven’t really talked to him in a long time, but I know other people that are schizophrenic, and I’m sure he’s as kind as they are. Even though I was terrified of growing up to become a pedophile, and didn’t, I was always aroused by the idea that older people could be attracted to me, and I still am.

I have some theories about why this happened to me. The first theory is probably the truest, and it’s that I was preyed upon online many times. This sounds worse than it was, or at least than it felt, because I knew it was happening. When I was a child, about 14, I would go onto a chatroom called Omegle and sext with random strangers for hours. Ostensibly, I was looking for people my age, mainly girls. What is disturbing to me now is not that I was groomed, but that I found girls my age frequently enough that I persisted in this practice for years. These girls and I would talk, sometimes for months on end, and would usually send each other nudes or sext or call or video chat. I don’t want to talk about these girls and I because it is disturbing to think about now, though I wonder where they are and if they’re ok. What I found a lot more often than girls, however, were older people masquerading as girls to lure me into their reach. Sometimes they didn’t care enough to pretend, and would just outright ask if I wanted to help them commit felony statutory rape. I only did this multiple times with someone once, where a very somber and cynical writer type gave me her tumblr with the instructions to message her again if I was interested in having more fun in the future. She said she “only cared about whether I could write”, not my age. We roleplayed scenes where I fucked her after she made me do chores, almost always involving goading me into performed and real annoyance with her constant rejections of my attempts to finally initiate or continue the actual intercourse. Sometimes, she expressed regret or tenderness towards me and our situation. I called myself Sammy, to save face and not give my real name. I only remember one message she sent me word-for-word: “hey Sammy, wanna fuck?” For some reason, thinking about this message still gives me goosebumps.

I wish that I always said no to these people. I wish that I was disgusted by them enough to abandon their chat requests and report them however I could to the FBI, or whatever. I was certainly never fooled by their deceptions; pedophiles seeking their orgasms online are famously stupid and callous in their pursuits. A lot of these people did disgust me enough to mess with their heads; to punish them. I would make them roleplay eating shit. I would send their IP address. I would make them feel bad in ways that meant nothing and did nothing to stop their incredibly dangerous behaviors, because I was a child who was unable and incapable of understanding how to comprehend or prevent true evil. When I describe this time to people, I usually talk about this part. “I used to catfish pedophiles on Omegle,” I say. I try to say this flippantly, as if I’m embarrassed and amused, even though it’s a very calculated tone.

In reality, I did send a lot of pictures or flirt with people I knew were bad people. I liked that they were bad people. It was the first time, and the first way, that I felt like a bad person, too. I couldn’t understand the danger I was in, or the danger my actions put others in. I now know, but still cannot correctly comprehend, how life-erasing this could have been for me, and has been for millions of people. I am sorry for it, but I’m not sure to whom. I am deeply afraid that there was a point in my life where I did not associate crimes against my body with pain, because I still do not know whether I count as a victim or not. I think I do, but a shitty one. A victim in the way that bad people were once victims themselves, and that it is the least relevant piece of information to ever learn or remember about them.

The other theory about why I was and am aroused by babysitters is because I wanted to have sex with a lot of older girls when I was younger. Sometimes, I think, they wanted to have sex with me, too. Maybe lots of boys think that. When I was younger, I did performing arts, and I was very good at it. I wore a silly hat, and bad band t-shirts from my brother, and I went to camps and classes and auditions and plays. I knew a lot of girls that went to the same things, and I became their friend. Because these girls were teenagers who liked to perform and be noticed, they hugged and touched a lot. They hugged and touched me a lot. Any boy that is 11 or 12 probably wants to have sex with older girls who hug and touch him a lot, even if they hug and touch him in ways that definitely do not indicate he is attractive to them.

Some of these girls called me cute, and did so often. I don’t remember much of them, anymore, but I remember two slightly more than others. I remember my counselor, Julia, who let me follow her around during my first camp stay. She always sat next to me and rested her head on my shoulder, her mouth puckered into an attentive frown as she took notes during classes. She had golden hair that fell in curly ringlets behind her ears, and she was from Colorado. One day, she asked to hold my hand as she walked our camper group to a performance. “Wo-o-ow, I’m holding his hand!” She giggled out loud to nobody in particular, except his was my full name, like I was famous. I felt famous. She didn’t let go for a while, and so every second felt like another gushing, crashing, ligament-tearing revelation of how unshakeable my love was for her. I wonder if she could tell that I liked her; it couldn’t have been hard to see. She later went to Disney World and became a staff member. We talked for a while, as friends, and she was kind and patient. She is still very kind and patient, I’m sure.

The other girl was named Sela Bay. Sela Bay was a name I had never heard before, and nobody else had either, but she seemed very proud of it. I met Sela Bay when I was 11 and she was 16, on a trip to California to work with casting directors and acting coaches and agents. I didn’t know much about her, then, other than that she was gorgeous and bubbly. She had dark, thick eyebrows, almond-shaped eyes that were a deep emerald green, and a wide-bridged nose that suited her tan face. Her face was very round. Her hair was very straight, and her body was poised and athletic. To me, she looked like the definition of a California surf babe, straight out of some Beach Boys music video or Kardashian catalogue. She was, in actuality, from Alabama, which was why I never saw her in class. I only remember one conversation with Sela Bay in California, when I was talking with the other, older kids about Pink Floyd. I felt very special for liking Pink Floyd at 11. I felt very special about always being the youngest person at camps at 11, too. Sela Bay let her mouth gape, the corners of her lips curling into an open-mouthed smile. “You’re so cool,” she said. “Like, if you were my age, we’d be going out.”

I liked hearing this, but it didn’t make me feel that surprised one way or the other. I guess there was enough stuff like that being said that I didn’t really take stock in it. I don’t remember.

The following summer was camp – the same camp I knew Julia from (she wasn’t there, that year.) This was my second year, and would be my last, because things soured after my sister had to be evacuated for self-harm. That year, Sela Bay was the object of most boys’ affection, or confusion. She seemed like kind of a loner, a weirdo. A rumor spread that she liked meowing like a cat in bed. I think she meowed at me.

One class, I sat near by Sela Bay on the floor, listening to some directors discuss blocking. Sela Bay motioned for me to scoot over to her, guiding me to sit next to her. After I did, she learned over to me, and whispered, “Someday, we’ll make sweet love.” I have no recollection of what her face said, or if it even changed. I don’t think it did. I don’t think mine did, either, for whatever reason. Minutes passed, and she leaned over again. This time, she said “Our babies would be beautiful.”

At the time, and still, I guessed this was something she said as a dare of some sort. The phrases were too weird and spontaneous to be legitimate declarations of interest. I never asked why she had said them, or for whom. Nobody else laughed or heard them, and the only other times I saw her that camp were among large groups. I never saw Sela Bay again. She’s an Instagram influencer, now, and she remains stunningly gorgeous.

It bothers me to think about these times, because not enough separation has passed for me to not still feel thrilled by the words and actions of people that had no business talking to me like that. I liked being the cute little brother figure, and I liked that others liked me for it. It bothers me to think about how horrified my current girlfriend was when I told her about some of these times and people, because it still does not horrify me even when it should. I wish these things did not happen to and around me, but mostly so I didn’t have to feel such cognitive dissonance when I think about them. I wish that I didn’t want to infantilize myself through the porn I consume. I wish I knew why Sela Bay said those things.

I have a strange relationship to porn, which is to say that anyone who consumes porn has a strange relationship to it. I paid $4 to talk to a robot that was clumsy and ineffective at reminding me of several different times in my life where I felt very young and unprotected. The truth of it all is that I paid $4 for this once before, a few months ago. I only used it once that whole month, on the day I bought it. Since then, the website has included a feature that allows you to script in a name that the character can occasionally refer to you as. There’s a million people with my name, and it’s my name, so I had no reason to not use my own. Even still, I hesitated for a minute, before typing in “Sammy” and hitting enter. The AI didn’t use the name once.

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dykefight · 3 years ago

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I want to share some of the experiences of my loved ones and myself that started leading me to radical feminism

One of my best friends (currently a 19 year old college student) used to have an onlyfans and currently sells underwear online. She says that the most humiliating moments of her life happened on onlyfans and similar websites. She had guys ask things like would she have sex with her brother, could she cry on camera, or if she would piss herself for them. There were two men she encountered that still make me sick to think about. The worst one was a man who regularly paid for videos of her pretending like she was being raped by him without a condom. She would beg for him to stop, not to impregnate her, and she cried and screamed. She was not allowed to get any pleasure from it or she wouldn’t get paid. The man only found pleasure in the idea of a teenage girl being traumatized and abused. The other man paid her to dominate him over the phone. He wanted her to control every aspect of his life. He was nearly 30 at the time while she was 18. The worst part of this ordeal was that they knew each other from when she was around twelve or thirteen. During this time I watched her mental health rapidly decline. Her poor mental health ended up causing her to quit less than a year after starting her account. Now she sells underwear and the conditions are no better. She’s been asked to sell worn underwear, underwear she’s pissed in, underwear with her period blood in it, and underwear she’s worn while masturbating. She has been masturbating so frequently that her skin over her clit has begun peeling. The idea that this is empowering her as a woman makes me sick. It’s basically a form of self harm. Anytime I mention that she might need to slow down she explodes, ranting about how she loves doing it, how it’s good money, and that it’s her choice. No woman should be brainwashed into that mindset.

Two of my other friends have been coerced by their boyfriends into sex that they didn’t want. One of them was guilt tripped into having anal sex by her boyfriend. She didn’t want to have sex until marriage, which he already knew prior. She said he looked so disappointed that she felt like she had to let him do anal. She also said this was easily one of the most painful experiences of her life. She ended up being pressured into vaginal sex only a few weeks later. Another friend was VERY adamant about saving any kind of sex until marriage. Her boyfriend pretended like this was totally fine until around a year into their relationship. He starting persuading her into giving him handjobs and blowjobs, insisting that they were meaningless acts and no big deal. She complied but still wouldn’t let him do anything sexual to her. Eventually he got impatient and decided to touch her while she was asleep on a school trip. She admits to being scarred from this, but insists that he didn’t mean any harm and that he wouldn’t do it again. In March, they were at a party together and had a fight. My friend is known for being a lightweight. While she was furious and drunk, her boyfriend was barely tipsy. He apparently decided that the best way for her to get over it was to push her into a room and have sex even though she was fully unable to consent. At some point, someone walked into the room, saw them, and told everyone at the party about it, including complete strangers. People still bring it up to her like it’s some funny story. Neither of my friends see anything wrong with their boyfriends or their actions. I, along with mutual friends, have tried to bring it up but they insist that it was a one time thing, their boyfriends didn’t know any better, and that we’re being over dramatic. It hurts me to know that they’re just one of many girls who dismiss sexual assault just because they’ve never been told what is wrong in a sexual relationship.

My mom was raped by my father while they were dating. My mom was raised in a very religious family so she saw premarital sex as one of the ultimate sins. She was okay with everything except penetrative sex. At some point, they were naked together and he saw that as an invitation. She froze up and couldn’t bring herself to stop him. That was how she lost her virginity. It wasn’t until she told me that she realized he raped her and that was only because I told her. She didn’t know she was raped until over 30 years later. She said she always thought she asked for it since she was naked around him and let him get close enough for it. She didn’t know that there are multiple types of rape until much later in life, so she never connected the dots. If she had known, she might’ve been able to save herself from the abusive marriage that followed.

Speaking of my mother and her marriage, she was also taught that getting a divorce was a sin in the eyes of god, especially if the wife initiates it. My mom couldn’t bring herself to divorce him in the beginning and then once she had kids she couldn’t divorce him until she made sure he wouldn’t get joint custody of us. She suffered through 35 years of abuse all because of some bullshit she had forced upon her since she was young. My grandma on my moms side experienced the same thing and wouldn’t divorce my grandfather who cheated on her and had a child with another woman.

These last ones are my own personal experiences. I, like many women, have faced sexual assault multiple times. The first time was when I was 12 and sexually assaulted by my long time family friend who was 15. He was best friends with my cousin who I am very close to so he also became a friend of mine. We also went to the same school. One day the three of us were at my cousins house and I was sharing a blanket with the friend. Under the blanket, he began to brush his hand along my ass which I thought was an accident since we were on a small couch sharing a blanket meant for one person. It soon escalated to him grabbing my ass under my jeans and through my underwear and then cupping my boobs. This was all while my cousin sat five feet away. When I finally got the courage to get out I got a text from the guy begging me not to tell my cousin. It took me nearly a month to tell my family and the school. My family said they would cut all contact with his family and the school said they would make sure I never had to be around him in a school setting. However, almost immediately, my family went back to being friends with his family and my school went back on their promise. Even though the guy confessed and I had the texts as evidence, he faced no real repercussions. Another guy continually harassed me over the course of our freshman, sophomore, and junior year. He’d do things like grab me, slap my ass, stick his hand down my uniform, grind against me during class while I was bent over, and he always found new ways to contact me after being blocked. When I finally told a teacher mid junior year, the way the school “punished” him was by having his football coach talk to him. This is the same football coach that’s known to indirectly slut shame girls in front of everyone. The guys behavior towards me didn’t change so I just gave up. I was never taken seriously when these incidents came to light. Everyone just assumed it was something to brush off. That it’d go away after a gentle scolding. Even my peers who say they’re all about protecting and defending women basically responded with “that sucks” and moved on.

I turned to radical feminism because it’s given me a place to be heard. I can speak my mind. Even if someone doesn’t agree with me, they’ll have a civilized discussion or simply move on rather than start an argument.

#and there’s more obviously #radfem #terf safe #terfs do touch #gender critical #terfs please interact #radical feminism #drop the t #lgb #long post #sorry #mine

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ao3bronte · 3 years ago

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☯🐍LUKADRIEN HEADCANONS🐍☯

It all started when Luka got his first tattoo. Juleka livestreamed it on Instagram and Adrien watched as much as he could of it while in the back of Father’s Mercedes, purposely ignoring Nathalie’s pointed stare. No doubt she would tell Father he was watching videos of his friends “partaking in delinquent behaviour”, but Adrien couldn’t blame her. It was her job, after all.

That aside, Adrien found himself both entranced and horrified as the artist carefully outlined the shape of a serpent in black ink up and down Luka’s right forearm, wiping away the excess ink before starting anew. It must hurt like hell, but Luka talked through it easily, humming a melody he’d been writing with his sister like the needle in his arm was hardly a bother.

Even after he’d been rushed out of the Mercedes and onto the runway, Adrien couldn’t stop thinking about it. How calm and collected Luka had been. How intricate the scales of the onyx snake had been against the paleness of his skin. How the tattoo would look after a few days of healing.

Adrien desperately wanted to find out. And thankfully, a week or so later, he got his chance.

“Dude, you gotta show Adrien. He’s been dying to see it, bro!” Nino calls out from beside him, waving Luka over from where he’d just parked his bike. Marinette had organized a collège graduation picnic and thankfully, the invitation that she’d sent home with Adrien had “mandatory for class attendance” printed on it in big, red letters.

“Yes, please!” Adrien responds, practically skipping in place as Luka saunters over and stretches out his hand. Adrien’s eyes grow wide as he takes in the snake’s coils that twist from his elbow to his wrist. The pattern on the snake’s scales is so familiar that Adrien is sure he’s seen this type of snake before, from the hood of its neck to its elongated fangs.

“Did it hurt?” Alix asks, buzzing with excitement. She’d already proudly announced that she’s booked her first tattoo for her upcoming sixteenth birthday next week.

“A little.” Luka shrugs, smiling downwards as Adrien forgets all of his manners and gently turns Luka’s arm around so he can see the other side. “The elbow was the worst part. Once he got away from the bone, it wasn’t so bad at all.”

“It looks so cool,” Adrien gushes, unable to contain himself. His nose is practically centimetres away from Luka’s skin so as to soak in every little detail. “I wish I could get something like this done.”

Luka continues to indulge him, despite Alix’s teasing glance in their direction. “What’s stopping you?”

Adrien snorts and stares in wonder at the snake’s slitted eyes. “Father. He’d kill me if I ever got a tattoo.”

“I doubt he’d kill his best model,” Luka responds, smiling as Adrien shakes his head and prods the little tongue of the serpent with the tip of his finger.

“Well, maybe not kill me. But he’d lock me away in my room until I was thirty five.”

“Dude, that’s abusive,” Nino says. Beside him, Alix agrees.

“It’s Father’s way of showing me he cares.” Adrien sighs and thanks Luka for letting him see the tattoo. Luka assures him that he can look at it anytime he wants.

And, of course, that’s how the plan begins.

Six months pass and Luka and Adrien are closer than they’ve ever been, thanks in part to Juleka’s burgeoning modelling career. They cross paths frequently, which means he sees Luka almost as much and begins to spend his free time with him whenever he can under the pretense of practicing his angles with Juleka and his piano skills with Luka.

Nathalie has given him exactly four hours of free time at the Couffaine’s on his day off, so long as the Gorilla is present to make sure he doesn’t “partake in any delinquent behaviour”. Adrien is an expert at eluding the massive hulk of a man and within minutes of arriving, Adrien, Luka and Juleka are meeting up with Rose, Nino and Alix for what would be the wildest, best kept secret plan in the world.

Why? Because Adrien was getting a tattoo. A tiny one. Very discreet. But a symbol of defiance and teenage rebellion nonetheless.

The whole ragtag group piles into the same studio that Luka and Alix had gotten their tattoos. White walls reflect the bright pink neon sign that takes up the majority of the side wall, adding an ambiance that simmers with excitement as house music thuds through the speakers. Adrien signs his life away with shaking fingers and gives his friends a thumbs up before sitting down on the leather lounger. Luka follows him into the smaller workspace and distracts Adrien by talking about the merits of the 5/4 time signature as the artist carefully sterilizes his equipment and applies a stencil onto the pale strip of skin just inside the swell of his hip bone. Adrien had picked this part of his body specifically; even in swimming briefs, no one would be able to see it. He would have to be completely bare in order for anyone to accidentally spot the tattoo, which makes it the perfect location for a clandestine symbol of his secret life.

The machine buzzes to life and Adrien prepares himself, gritting his teeth.

“Why did you pick this for your first tattoo?” Luka asks, wincing as Adrien grabs his hand and squeezes the life out of it. Adrien has been tossed around the city like a ragdoll countless times as Chat Noir, but this? This is the worst pain he’s ever experienced by far.

“Ghhh—oh my god.” Adrien heaves and tries to keep still as the artist completes the outline of the circle.

“Just breathe.” Luka begins to massage his arm with his other hand, rubbing smooth circles into Adrien’s tensed muscles. “It’ll be over before you know it.”

Adrien garbles something unintelligible and lets his head fall back against the headrest with a thunk. “How...did...you...?”

“I just did.” Luka shrugs and smiles encouragingly. “You get used to the feeling after a while.”

“I am never getting used to this.” Adrien groans vehemently, pushing the words from his lips in one shaky breath. Luka isn’t wrong though; after a minute or two of trying not to cry like an infant, Adrien’s hip hurts so badly that the pain begins to plateau into a five alarm burning bee sting. “Is it almost over?”

“He’s just finishing the spot,” Luka replies, leaning over to get a better look. Adrien opens his eyes, which is a horrible mistake. Between Luka’s constant presence beside him and his friend’s face mere centimetres from his belly button, Adrien finally thinks of something else that cuts through the haze.

“Y-yeah?” Adrien stammers and hopes Luka thinks it’s still from the pain. In actuality, the last six months of Adrien’s infatuation with Luka’s tattoo and, in turn, Luka himself has all flashed before his eyes in a matter of seconds.

“All finished,” the artist says, taking one last swipe with his towel before putting his tools away. Luka beams and congratulates him on being so brave, but all Adrien can think about is how his friend’s ample praise makes him melt like butter.

“Do you want to see?” Luka takes the mirror and holds it up to the tattoo. Red and raw, the yin and yang symbol shines like a beacon of Adrien’s duality. He’s the hero of destruction to Ladybug’s creation; he’s a flawless model with a secret dark side.

“I love it,” Adrien breathes, the immediate pain already fading. The artist dresses the wound and Adrien listens to the aftercare instructions with half an ear — he’s far too busy committing the experience to memory.

If Luka wants his hand back, he doesn’t ask, even as they exit the room together. Adrien’s too lost in the clouds to even realize, but the rest of his friends aren’t. They’ll tease Luka about it later, but the blue haired boy doesn’t seem to care.

A week later, Adrien proudly shows off his secret tattoo to his secret tattoo posse — he can’t risk anyone else knowing about it in case it gets leaked to the press — and beams when Luka tells him it looks beautiful.

He doesn’t tell Adrien he wasn’t talking about the tattoo.

SEE ALL OF MY LGBTQ+ HEADCANONS HERE!

#miraculous ladybug #miraculous pride #lukadrien #luka couffaine #vipernoir #adrien agreste #ml

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reeny-chan · 3 years ago

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Accepting Love

Trigger warnings: abuse, trauma, suicidal thoughts

Jeffrey Marsh

My sister recently shared with me the Instagram account of a person named Jeffrey Marsh, a non-binary life coach. I don’t know Jeffrey’s pronouns, because they are not listed on Jeffrey’s Instagram, Twitter, or website, so I will only be referring to Jeffrey by name in this essay.

I listened to a couple of Jeffrey’s videos this morning while getting ready for work. I was not prepared for the emotion Jeffrey was presenting. I was not prepared for the emotions I would feel upon hearing Jeffrey’s words, and Jeffrey’s emotions. I know Jeffrey has many, many videos (not to mention books, etc.), but after listening to two whole videos, I stopped. I had to stop. I decided I wasn’t strong enough to listen to any more videos.

That’s what I told my sister: “I don’t think I’m strong enough for this.”

Why, though? Why do I need strength to watch a video? I’ve seen frightening movies. I’ve seen real-life, unedited videos of deadly accidents as part of driver and workplace training. Hell, I managed to make it through “The Passion of the Christ” back during the days I was still indoctrinated as Catholic (though I did have an emotional breakdown at the end of it).

So why am I incapable of watching a video where a person gushes about how much they love themselves and how I should love myself?

I am transgender. I transitioned to bring my body and my outward life closer to how I feel inside. I didn’t do those things out of self-hate. I did them out of self-love. If I didn’t love myself enough to face all the tribulations that transitioning requires, it would have been simpler just to end my life. But I loved myself, and I loved my family, my children, and I didn’t want to leave them with the trauma of losing me to suicide.

So if I love myself, why is such gushing, effluviant love too much for me?

The Venturi Effect

For those of you who took middle school science, you’ve probably heard about the Venturi Effect. In short, when a fluid is flowing through a tube, if a section of the tube is constricted but still allows the fluid to flow through, the fluid in the constricted section speeds up. I once learned the physics behind this, but in short, it’s why water comes out a garden hose faster if you attach a nozzle to the end of it rather than leaving hose’s end wide open.

Growing up, I and my siblings received love conditionally. We rarely, if at all, got any at all from our father, and our mother only gave it out when we behaved, when we did good things, and when she wasn’t actively having one of her frequent and very vocal nervous breakdowns. I’m 25 years removed from that life, but it’s taken me that long to really take a critical look at the first 18 years of my life, how it has affected me into middle age, and how abnormal it was compared to what it should have been. Most of that is thanks to my sister, who received by far the worst of our parents’ behavior and conditionality, and who is now choosing to relive that trauma by helping me come to terms with it.

The conditionality of the love from my mother, and the stark lack of it from my father, taught me to be as open as possible for any kind of love or real praise I could get. In my venturi metaphor, I made a very wide tube I could use to take in the slight trickle of positivity. At the end of that tube, though, where it actually goes into my heart, the tube is narrowed so it can force the scant amount of positivity into a stream with the kind of force that might make it feel, to me, to be almost normal. At least, what I think normal should be.

When I receive a lot of positivity, a lot of praise, I can’t handle it. It overloads me. People singing “Happy Birthday” to me or giving me gifts. Me receiving awards in school for whatever paltry achievements I made. Even, for the longest time, being told “I love you”. It was just too much. I would dread these things, and I would shut down when they happened.

It’s gotten better, I suppose, as I’ve grown older and have received more unconditional love. The nozzle has widened, at least a little, and the force with which it sprays that external love into my heart isn’t quite as painful as it once was. I may not shut completely down, but I do still feel like I’m overloaded, that I don’t deserve that much positivity.

And then Jeffrey Marsh’s videos showed me how unprepared I was for what is, apparently, a healthy amount of unconditional love.

Too Much For A Poor Girl Like Me

Long before I was a parent, long before I knew I’d been a woman all along, I made a promise to myself: I would not be like my own parents. I would not punish my children constantly, for minor things or even nothing at all. I would not scream at them. I would not threaten to kill myself because of their behavior, or because of their existence. I would not scream at God for “cursing” me with such a life.

That was all my mom. My dad would just, at my mother’s word, or often because he felt like it, grab the super-wide leather belt or flexible wooden backscratcher and smack the crap out of us.

Saying I don’t want to be these things is easy. Actually not being these things is hard.

I do my best to show my children love, even when they haven’t done anything to “earn” it. I hate even saying that, because love for your children, isn’t “earned”. It is “owed”. A parent owes love to their children. But, as a parent, and with my experiences as a child, I feel that I, now the parent, must earn that love from them. At least that makes a little more sense to me.

Is it too late for me to learn to receive that kind of unconditional love, though?

At times I think it is. I feel like I’m too stubborn to give up on the old habits of wallowing in misery, of assuming I’m annoying and that people only keep me around because they feel awkward about trying to get rid of me. Or that they only want me around because of what I can do for them. I wrote about this in my earlier essay about wanting to be “wanted”.

Some of it I come by honestly. I was bullied as a child, throughout elementary and middle schools. By high school I was so jaded that I’d built up a wall that kept me from accepting anyone’s friendship or caring. I knew there were girls who had crushes on me, but I never acted upon them because I refused to believe they were true. It took me until my senior year of high school (midway through, as a matter of fact) to let myself have an actual girlfriend - a fact my kids find both sad and hilarious.

But even today, a week after my 4xth birthday, it’s hard for me to accept that I’m loved. It’s too easy to slip under that old, comfortable blanket of darkness that tells me I’m not loved, I’m not worthy of being loved, and all sorts of other unhealthy things that I still take far too seriously. No matter how much therapy I’ve had, how much work I’ve put into aligning my inner self with my outer self. Into being the person I should have been.

So how can someone like me accept such an outpouring of love, wherever it comes from? Is there even such a thing as being strong enough to accept love?

If I knew, I wouldn’t be writing this blog post. But, maybe, if I find a way to force myself to listen, Jeffrey Marsh or someone like Jeffrey can teach me. But am I strong enough?

#jeffrey marsh #love #loving yourself #love yourself

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uncloseted · 4 years ago

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Hey! I’m the anon (and also Gay!Bama anon) who sent the asks about BPD and being rejected by that closeted guy. I guess the reason I think I have BPD is because I’m in my 20’s now, and I just have issues with perceived rejection for whatever reason. Anytime someone rejects me or something, I get really depressed and question myself a lot, or I question my worth, and it’s over things that should not be a big deal, but to me they feel like the end of the world. It’s like I have no emotional skin, if that makes sense, so everything hurts more than it would someone who is normal. It’s just so hard sometimes. I get so emotional or upset over things that there’s no need in being that upset over. I just wish I could change it, but I can’t. I feel like I’ve destroyed a lot of potential relationships and also friendships by overreacting and it makes me feel so crazy. (1/2)

(2/3) (Gay!Bama anon) I think it might be because my Dad and me always had a difficult relationship, and now that he’s gone things are really more difficult than before. I started going back to therapy and I’m about to go back to school to finish up my degree, but I just wish I could manage these feelings better. The only way I have been able to deal with them is by either numbing them with alcohol, drugs, or fulfilling them with anonymous encounters, or just cutting myself off from other people, so that way I have nothing to react to. It just really sucks because I’m so lonely all the time, but I don’t know what else to do about it other than that. I used to self harm to help me cope with my feelings, because then I could hurt myself and not hurt the people in my life by lashing out over trivial things, like irrelevant rejection or changing plans. It feels like every small thing is a seed, from which sprouts a tree of paranoia and depression.

(3/3) (Gay!Bama anon) I also have had such a hard time trying to figure out my plans for a career and goals because I’m always switching them up, because one personality trait might take the forefront, but then that could change and that influences how I feel about something or what I want to do. I just wish I could turn all of these feelings off for a while, or something, and just be like calm or something.

Hi Gay!Bama anon! Always happy to see you in my inbox, although I’m sorry to hear that you’re struggling. The fact that I know it’s you and I know you’re in your 20s changes my answer slightly.

There are a number of symptoms that need to be present to be diagnosed with borderline personality disorder; rejection sensitivity is definitely one of them, but not the only one. The DSM-5 requires five or more of the following symptoms for a BPD diagnosis:

Chronic feelings of emptiness

Emotional instability in reaction to day-to-day events (e.g., intense episodic sadness, irritability, or anxiety usually lasting a few hours and only rarely more than a few days. Generally, these are out of proportion to the event that triggered them)

Frantic efforts to avoid real or imagined abandonment (e.g., calling a friend/partner/family member several times a day during working hours and getting upset when they don’t answer)

Identity disturbance with markedly or persistently unstable self-image or sense of self (e.g., frequently and suddenly changing goals, beliefs, vocational aspirations, and sexual identity, or assuming the identity of people they’re close to)

Impulsive behavior in at least two areas that are potentially self-damaging (e.g., spending, gambling, sex, substance abuse, reckless driving, binge eating, committing crimes)

Inappropriate, intense anger or difficulty controlling anger (e.g., frequent displays of temper, constant anger, recurrent physical fights)

Pattern of unstable and intense interpersonal relationships characterized by extremes between idealization and devaluation (also known as "splitting"- basically, thinking a person is the best person ever, the love of your life, your best friend, someone with no faults, and then switching to thinking the person is the worst person ever, who has never cared about you, who has no redeeming qualities. This typically results in alternating between over-involvement with the person and withdrawal from the person)

Recurrent suicidal behavior, gestures, or threats, or self-harming behavior

Transient, stress-related paranoid ideation or severe dissociative symptoms (typically only lasting hours or days, and triggered by an external stressor. Dissociative symptoms may include feeling like your body is unreal or altered in a strange way, feeling that the outside world is unreal, and illusions).

People with BPD will also typically have a compromised ability to recognize the feelings and needs of other people, and have intense, unstable, and conflicted relationships that are marked by mistrust and neediness. It’s also important that these symptoms have persisted over time and across different situations.

If that doesn’t resonate with you, there are a number of other different conditions that result in being particularly sensitive to rejection, including social anxiety, depression, generalized anxiety, ADD/ADHD, eating disorders, and childhood trauma are just a few things that could cause a fear of rejection. I would talk to your therapist about this symptom and ask for help coming up with some coping mechanisms.

If all of that does sound like you, I would talk to your therapist about a possible BPD diagnosis and potentially a referral to a therapist who specializes in dialectical behavioral therapy. DBT is the most studied and effective treatment for BPD, so it’s a good place to start if that is what you’re struggling with. In the meantime, you can learn the principles of DBT on your own and try to begin applying them to your life.

DBT combines mindfulness with techniques for distress tolerance, emotional regulation, and interpersonal effectiveness. Having a therapist and attend group therapy sessions are an important part of a full course DBT. However, there are several exercises you can try at home:

Keeping a Diary

One of the easiest things you can do at home is to start tracking your behaviors. Note any self-injurious or life threatening behaviors, behaviors which indirectly cause harm to yourself or others, and quality of life issues. Write down any triggers you’ve noticed.

Mindfulness

There are a few different types of mindfulness exercises you can try. Since you mentioned that you want to be able to turn your feelings off, trying meditation might be a good place to start. There are some good apps, like Headspace and Calm, that can help you learn how to meditate and encourage you to practice meditation, and there are also a ton of videos on YouTube that do the same.

DBT encourages the concept of “radical acceptance”- the idea that one should face situations, both positive and negative, without any judgement. Try to let go of fighting reality and accept a situation for what it is. When you’ve accepted a situation, then you can figure out how to change it.

You can also try using “what” skills when practicing mindfulness; these are observe, describe, and participate. They’re “what” you do when you’re practicing mindfulness. Nonjudgementally paying attention to the present moment is an important component of DBT, so the first thing you can do is observe. Try to nonjudgementally observe your environment within and outside of yourself. Notice the feelings you’re experiencing, and then try to let slide off of your mind. Next, describe: express what you observed, either to someone around you or to yourself. Try to use your five senses to put words to what you’re observing. What can you see? Hear? Smell? Taste? Feel? Finally, participate: try your best to be fully focused on and involved in any activity that you’re doing. When your mind wanders, gently pull it back to the task you’re currently doing.

Distress Tolerance

One of the goals of DBT is to help people develop the ability to calmly recognize negative situations and decide if and how to address them. It’s important to learn how to be distressed without becoming overwhelmed or hiding from that feeling.

TIPP is one of the fastest and most popular distress tolerance skills, since it alleviates distress quickly. Tip the temperature of your face by splashing it with very cold water, intensely exercise for 20 minutes, do paced breathing- breathe in for four seconds and our for six to eight seconds, and then do progressive muscle relaxation- starting from the top of your body, tense and relax each muscle group until you get to your toes.

You can also distract yourself from unpleasant emotions using ACCEPTS. Engage in activities that you enjoy, contribute by helping others, compare yourself to people who are less fortunate or how you used to be when you were in a worse state, evoke a different emotion by putting on a happy song or watching a comedy special, push away your situation in your mind, and put something else first by thinking about something else, and finally, create sensations that are intense, such as holding an ice cube or eating spicy food.

Another thing you can try when you’re in distress is to IMPROVE the moment. Imagine relaxing scenes, things going well, or other pleasing scenarios, find meaning in what you’re feeling, pray, if you’re religious, relax your muscles using the progressive muscle relaxation we talked about above, do one thing at a time, and focus all your attention on it, vacation if you can (by taking a break from the situation), and encourage yourself. Tell yourself it’s possible to make it through your current situation and cope with it. You can be your own best cheerleader.

Emotional Regulation

Since people who have BPD frequently have intense emotions, it can be helpful to learn how to regulate those emotions.

First, try identifying and labeling your emotions. Tune in with yourself and ask yourself what you’re feeling. Is it anger? Fear? Sadness? Then, you can try to change unwanted emotions using opposite-reactions. With opposite-reactions, you do the opposite of the urge you’re feeling in the moment. For example, if you want to isolate yourself, instead, reach out to a friend.

Fact-checking is also an important technique- ask yourself, “do the facts warrant the intensity of the response I’m feeling?” Then ask yourself, “what is the event prompting my emotion,” “what are my interpretations and assumptions about the event, and are those true?”, “am I assuming a threat? How likely is it to actually occur?”, “what’s the disaster? How can I cope well with it?”, and “does my emotion or intensity fit the facts?” There’s a sample fact-checking worksheet that you can find here: http://edencounseling.com/resources/dbt-emotional-regulation-group-4-handouts.pdf

If your facts are correct and the situation is the problem, then you can problem solve. First, identify your goal in solving the problem- what needs to happen for you to be okay, and what’s reasonable? Then, brainstorm as many solutions as you can come up with, without being critical of your ideas. Choose a solution that fits your goal and is likely to work, using a pro/con list to decide if necessary. Act on your decision, and then evaluate if it worked. If it didn’t work, go back to the “choose” stage and pick a different solution to try.

Interpersonal Effectiveness

Interpersonal relationships can be difficult for people with DBT, so it’s important to learn how to ask for what you need, how to say no, and how to cope with interpersonal conflicts. There are three techniques in this module: DEAR MAN, GIVE, and FAST.

The DEAR MAN technique focuses on conveying your needs to someone else. Start by describing your situation using specific, fact-based statements about a recent situation. Then express the emotions experienced when the situation occurred, why the situation was a problem, and how you feel about it. Assert yourself by clearly and specifically requesting the behavior change you would like. Reinforce your position by explaining to the person what the positive impacts of changing their behavior might be for them. Mindfully focus on the situation, without seeking validation, and redirect the conversation back to your main point when it seems to be diverting. Appear confident and assertive, even if you’re not feeling confident or assertive. Finally, negotiate with the person to come to a compromise that both parties are happy with.

The GIVE tool focuses on relationship maintenance, whether that’s with friends, family, co-workers, or romantic partners. It is used in conversations. Use gentle language, free of put-downs, sarcasm, or judgement, even as a joke. Be as interested as you can in what the other person is saying. Give them your undivided attention by making eye contact and asking questions. Really listen to them, don’t just wait your turn to talk. Validate their situation, either through words, body language, or facial expressions. Often, people just want to be heard and for someone to understand what they’re going through. Finally, try to adopt an easy manner: do your best to appear calm and comfortable during the conversation. Use friendly humor and smile.

The FAST skill focuses on maintaining your self-respect. Be fair to yourself and to the person you’re talking to. Don’t apologize more than once, and only apologize for things that are your fault. Stick to your values- determine what you believe and stand by it, without letting other people sway your decisions. Lastly, be truthful. Lying can only damage relationships and reduce the respect you have for yourself.

I know that’s a ton of stuff I’ve just thrown at you, so if you’re still with me, thank you! You don’t have to adopt all of these skills at once or even at all. Getting good at just one or two of them will improve your life. A therapist will be able to help you practice these different skills so that when you need them, they’re already in your mind. Good luck! I hope you get the support you need and that things start looking up for you soon.

#DBT #borderline personality disorder #BPD #dialectical behavioral therapy #Anonymous #effys-closet #effys closet

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surveys-at-your-service · 3 years ago

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Survey #387

“today i woke up, & i hate myself”

What common problem have you never experienced? The loss of a close family member (that doesn't include pets). Alternatively, what's an uncommon problem you have experienced? Homelessness. Do you know anyone who opposes marriage equality? I sure do. What was the last thing you got really emotional about? Meerkat Manor: Rise of the Dynasty premiering. What's the longest amount of time you've been ill for? I don't really know. I don't get sick a lot at all. Who is your closest male friend? Girt. Do you know anyone who hunts for meat? Sadly. I say "sadly" because it's not like they need it. Have you ever lived with a boyfriend/girlfriend? Yes, although I wasn't a technical resident. I was there all the time, though. What do you wash dishes with? Sponge, scrub brush, rag, something else? A sponge. Is there anything you prefer to do the old-fashioned way? There's probably something, but I can't think of anything. Do you put your glasses and mugs right side up or upside down on the cabinet shelf? Upside-down. What was the worst part of your childhood? My parents fighting. Have you ever seen a high school relationship last long-term? (like 10+yrs) Yeah. Do you know any cancer survivors? Quite a few. Leftover pizza for breakfast... yay or nay? Good shit, man. Do you personally know anyone who's a psychopath or sociopath? I don't think so. What is your most used kitchen appliance? Lately, it's been the apple slicer. I've been on a real apple slices + peanut butter kick lately. What is something that you would personally like to be remembered for? For being a caring person towards all living things. Have you ever been diagnosed as clinically depressed before? Yes. Do you like bowling? Yeah, it's fun. Do you own binoculars or nonoculars? What do you use them for? No. Do you ever wish you had a telescope on the roof or attic to stargaze? Yeah, that'd be cool. Have you ever had to deal with someone close to you going off to war? No, thankfully. Who do you feel you have the most in common with? Sara, easily. Who in your life causes you the most stress or negative feelings? My damn self lmao. Have you ever had a teacher that also taught your parents? No. My parents didn't grow up in NC. What’s one thing that people definitely CAN’T count on you for? To remember like... anything. What about something they definitely can count on you for? Someone to listen to encourage them. What’s one food that you want to try but haven’t yet? I've always thought macaroons look good. Do you have anything planned for the summer? No. Do you walk fast or slow? Slow. Would you consider yourself an adrenaline junkie? No. What is a common slang word from where you live? Plural "you" does not exist. It's "y'all," lol. What’s the scariest thing you’ve accidentally found on the internet? *shrug* Probably something as a kid, going on those sketchy websites with loads of games and stuff. Thinking of every Halloween costume you’ve had, which one was the most creative? I don't think I've had any creative costumes for Halloween. What’s one random city you want to visit? It's not exactly "random" as it's a popular location, but anyway, I would love to visit Venice. What subjects do you or did you get the worst grades in? Math. When was the last time you ate cake and what type of cake was it? That's a good question, actually. Maybe my niece's birthday in February? I don't remember what kind of cake it was. Do you have photos to go with all of the contacts in your phone? No; I don't have any. Do you like snowy winter days or do you prefer rainy days? SNOWY! Name 3 things you find most beautiful in nature: Mountains, large waterfalls, and desert dunes in the wind. If you could ask one person one questions and get a completely honest answer who would it be and what would you ask? Jason. I'd ask if he thought I was emotionally abusive. What is your favorite winter activity? Building snowmen. Who is the greatest singer who is no longer living? Freddie Mercury. What is your idea of heaven? I don't know, really... I have to ask myself IS there a heaven in eternity? Living forever just... doesn't appeal to me. "Living" is an odd word to use there, but hopefully you get it. Existing on and on and on and on seems like it'd just be a drag, but at the same time I do like the thought of feeling relentlessly happy and peaceful with my loved ones. I guess that would be my definition of it, if it does exist. What’s one of the scariest things you’ve ever done? ODed. Have you ever watched the Superbowl all the way through? Just once, on my 16th birthday because I was at Jason's place and all of his family was watching it. I had absolutely zero interest, but we wanted to hang with the family. If you had to move to another country, where would you move? Canada. Do you watch American Horror Story? I haven't in years. It was Jason's and my first "show," and the first season was excellent. I lost interest in the second one, honestly. I'd be up for watching other seasons, though. How many relationships have you been in this year? None. What's your favorite cereal? Probably Cinnamon Toast Crunch. That's also the only cereal where I can happily drink the milk afterwards. Twitter or Facebook? Facebook. Do you like to paint your nails? No. What's the coolest place you've ever been to? Disney World, probably. Have you ever punched anyone? No. What's something you wish you knew how to do? Cook. :/ I really need to make an effort to learn. It'd be great to not rely on a microwave for the rest of my life. What's a celebrity that everyone likes but you don't? *shrug* What food do you eat the most? Probably bread in some form or another. That really needs to stop. Green or purple grapes? Either one, but they have to be firm. I cannooooooot with soft grapes. Have you ever cried over a text? Yeah. What's the background of your phone of? My lock screen is this pretty, simplistic periwinkle color with "work on you for you" written on it. It's one I plan on keeping for probably a long time because I connect to it so deeply with my stupid damn head frequently demanding I have to improve "for Jason" to prove him wrong. Which is a very unhealthy mindset to have, I know. My home screen is a cute lil Mark edit someone made with a very similar pale blue background, so my phone is just currently an #aesthetic. Do you have a Snapchat? No. What's your favorite sports team? (if you like sports)? I don't like sports, but I'm biased towards the Carolina Hurricanes hockey team because of my dad. Last thing you ate? I had Honey Nut Cheerios for breakfast. Do you take a lot of selfies? Definitely not. I just hate how I look so much; it takes way too much effort for me to get an "acceptable" one. Do you prefer strawberries or cherries? Strawberries. I hate cherries. How many hours of sleep did you get last night? Maybe like, three. -_- Our A/C is still out, and it was like, 87 in the house last night. It was impossible to sleep. Do you listen to music daily? Not EVERY day, but usually. Biggest insecurity? My weight. Do you play video games? Not as much as I used to. I'd probably play way more if I actually had a PS4 + the games I'm DYING to have. Do you consider yourself lazy? "Yes, but a lot of it is also health related for my lack of energy and motivation." <<<< This for me as well. What recently made you laugh? I was watching a bit of The Nanny with Mom yesterday. We love that show. Do you like gummy bears? Yep. What was the last song you listened to? I'm randomly hooked on "My Nocturnal Serenade" by YOHIO. Like, I've known the song for a long time, but NOW I'm bingeing it???? Describe your mom with one word. Selfless. What's the biggest turn-off? Probably being misogynistic. But being a cocky ass is definitely high up there, too. What fish scares you the most? Mfkng whale sharks terrify me. How do you feel about snails? They're cuties!!! What's your favorite app? Pokemon GO. Would you rather time travel into the past or future? The future, to see what's coming. I feel like you could come back with some pretty valuable information. What is the saddest song you've ever heard? I think "Terrible Things" by Mayday Parade has to come on top. What insect do you hate the most? I was reminded that stag beetles exist last night, and omfg those. Well, "hate" is the wrong word, really, I'm just terrified of them. Would you ever have a wild animal as a pet if possible? I 110% want to rescue an opossum, emphasis on "rescue." I'm not plucking one from the wild or anything like that. I would be in HEAVEN raising one of those angels. Are there any decorations that makes you happy? (lights, candles, plants..) I love those beds decorated with fairy lights, and just Christmas lights in general. Halloween and Christmas decor tend to give me sparks of happiness when I see 'em. Does race matter to you when it comes to dating? Not at all for me. When was the last time you painted something? Not since I was still in school and took a Painting course. When was the last time you really felt alive, and what were you doing? I have NO idea. What is one question you would like an answer to? Why the worst things tend to happen to good people. Name one favorite thing to do with kids while babysitting. I don't babysit, but if I was to be in charge of a kid, I'd love to teach them to play video games from my childhood. Playing Pokemon with my niece and nephew is always a blast, ahhhh. Name one flavor you like. Strawberry is pretty consistent. Name one thing you are hoping for. Venus' new terrarium soon... big sigh. I can't for the life of me find one that's a reasonable price and also adequately sized. I'm willing to put the rest of my cash into it, but Mom is helping, so I can't just buy the first one I see. Then I'd need more substrate, I seriously want a temperature gun and hygrometer, a cool hide, sticks and stuff for cover... It's going to be expensive, but I want Venus to have a truly proper environment she can thrive in. Write the name of one of your imaginary friends from when you were younger. Oddly enough, I can't remember the imaginary wolf that was my "friend." I say "oddly" because his whole idea was important to me as a weird-ass kid. Name one girl's name that starts with a "J" that you like. "Justine." Name one boy's name that starts with a "J" that you like. Maybe "Jaxson." Have you ever been kissed? Yeah. Have you ever feared that you would be killed? It's never been like, a fear I actively worry about. I just acknowledge it's always a possibility for anyone. What is the last great opportunity you missed? This was quite a while ago by now, but I'd say by dropping out of school, I really let photography opportunities slip since I became the newspaper photographer...

#survey #surveys #questions #lyrics: ''under the graveyard'' by ozzy osbourne

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windermeresimblr · 4 years ago

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Story Process Challenge

I was tagged by @danjaley and @treason-and-plot (in alphabetical order, not tagging order). Thank you both so much!

Summary: My process makes sense to myself alone and it’s very much a work in progress! Also, I’m very boring and don’t do gifs or videos, so you’ll just have to look at my screenshots. Sorry!

This is behind the jump for length.

1. Your writing process - show us a part of your script or explain how you write your scenes. Do you write in screenplay format or novel format? Etc, etc.

I write in novel format if it’s a wholly-posed story, mostly because that’s easier for me than a script. I feel like it really helps build the ~aesthetic~ of a scene that way. For my attempts at partially-posed/gameplay stories, I’ve gone for screenplay format, but it’s very new to me and I feel much more comfortable with the novel format. I usually write in Google Docs, since that can go with me everywhere and I can write on my lunch hour/waiting for my mom to get out of the pharmacy/etc, but sometimes I will write in Notepad.

(Yes, this IS a flashback to Alasdair and Ma. Yolanda meeting; they were perfect teenage hellions causing chaos at a society party, don’t worry.)

2. Scene building - show us you in the middle of scene building through pictures, gifs, or a video. Explain what is the best thing about scene building and what is the worst!

I’m still learning how to make a very good scene build; this is where being a historical player kind of hurts. It’s hard to get a good sense of what a 1810s Spanish drawing room or a 1600s merchant’s house in Amsterdam really looked like without abusing my library privileges! (Images from Wikipedia and historical sites only go so far.) The best thing about scene-building is when the vision of the room in my head matches the room that’s in-game, which is pretty difficult. The worst thing about scene building is that I’m very perfectionistic and a control freak, which does not help, and frequently I do get lost in the details and can’t see the forest for the trees.

(This isn’t a scene, it’s that Iron Age Roundhouse, but it’s a good example of how I do things--all the lights on, everything bright white paint or the $0 floor until I am happy with the shape and placement, and then I decorate.)

3. CC/Pose Making - do you make your own cc/poses for your scene? If so, what is your process like to create? Do you just go off the top of your head? Do you use reference photos?

I’d love to be able to make my own CC and poses specifically for scenes! I’m still very new at CC-making--see my hats collection--and again, I’m very much a control freak. I use a lot of reference photos, especially historical costuming sites and books, because it gives me a lot of pride to have the clothing and accessories look just right.

The creation process is usually: gosh, I need a crispinette/gable hood/palla/whatever for this character, let me see if there’s a mesh from TS2 or TS4 that I can wrangle into submission if I can’t repurpose an existing mesh, and then a prolonged period of fighting with Milkshape and TSRW and other programs until it looks serviceable and works. I’m not very technically skilled yet.

I don’t make my own poses--I’d love to, I have a hand-spinning poseset idea living rent-free in my mind at all times, complete with a drop spindle accessory, but I’m not very confident with Blender or hand accessories, etc. When I pose my Sims, I do use reference photos if I haven’t already planned out how they’re moving around in the scene. (Well, reference paintings, usually, although sometimes I’m lucky enough to find reenactment photos!)

4. Getting in the zone - What do you do to get in the zone to work on a scene? Examples include: show us your playlist you use when working on a scene, what’s your go-to scene snack/drink, etc.

I don’t know if I get into a zone as much as I just carve out time to work on things as I can. I don’t have playlists for my characters. (Not a Deaf thing; I just haven’t really...had the urge to do that. I’m worried I’m a neglectful Simmer now, ha ha.) I don’t have a go-to writing snack or drink. I just...try to relax a bit, usually, and sometimes I will look at my past chapters to see what we were doing last time.

5. Screenshot folder - give us a look into your screenshot folder to show us just how much goes into ONE scene for your story. (Scrapped pictures encouraged!!!)

Do you REALLY want to see this? Really? I’m an AWFUL packrat. I try to organize it and I can’t. (Sorry. I’m very messy.)

6. Captions - are you a caption on the picture kind of storyteller or captions in text box type of storyteller? Why? Do you do both?

Captions and text go in the text box.

I’d love to be able to put dialogue in speech bubbles, because it seems cool, but I talk too much! (This is the same reason why I kind of go back and forth with Netflix-style captions. I don’t know when to shut up.) I also worry that the captions wouldn’t be visible in scenes with low lighting or overly-bright lighting.

7. Editing!!!!! - explain and show us your process editing a scene through a video, gif, or picture. A Before and after will suffice if you aren’t in the middle of editing a scene as you answer this.

Philomena, before...

Philomena, after. (This is one of those images where I just threw up my hands at the hair editing. I wish TS3 had hat chops like TS4 did.)

I’m really not confident with editing--I want to have my pictures look aesthetically pleasing, consistent with the other images in the chapter, and “nice” in general. It doesn’t help that while I’m 95% Maxis-match, my aesthetic inspiration for scenes changes with the wind. I use pooklet’s lighting actions, and then from there I tend to use the Holy Colors, Batman actions. But I’m trying to find my own way of doing things--reliant on others’ actions, yes, but more consistently done and somehow conveying that it’s “of my workshop.”

8. Throwback- show us an ANCIENT story scene you did in the past and explain how you would do the scene differently today!

First: I think I’d choose a different pose for Vicar Max here. (It doesn’t quite fit; why would he be staring at Alasdair like that? It’s more of a mid-conversation pose.) I liked how it looked like Alasdair was genuflecting as he sat in the pew, but again, the pose needs to be changed. I might just go for neutral sitting-and-talking-looking-straight-ahead poses.

This was one of those pictures taken when I was trying to understand Reshade, so I’d obviously skip that. I’d also add Pooklet’s lighting actions, of course.

It’s definitely not lit well in the back--I’m not sure how I’d change that. I didn’t want to lose the “quiet chapel” feel, but there has to be a balance, not letting the characters look like they’re spotlit.

The angle also looks weird, but I’m horrible at angles; I have a lot to learn still. I’d either close-up on the faces or I’d zoom out more. (I think I was having issues with Alasdair on the OMSP, for some reason.)

I tag whoever would like to do this!

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justasparkwritings · 4 years ago

Text

Illicit Affairs: A Million Little Times

Previous: Clandestine Meetings

Pairings: None

Genre: Angst

Ratings: PG17

Word Count: 2.4K

Warnings: Manipulation, Abuse of Power, Swearing, Negotiations and Contracts, Mentions of Alcoholism

Summary: Namjoon clues his Hyungs into the mess he’s been a part of, and Jungkook grapples with truths he didn’t know existed.

Listen: illicit affairs by Taylor Swift

Namjoon had been given a week to get the members on board before signing their contract. A week before dates for deployment were given. A week to see if they’d have a future after the bouts of military service were completed. He’d given himself two days to go over the changes before speaking with Yoongi and Seokjin, and four days to wrestle the Maknae line and Ho-Seok to agree to signing what remained of their dignities and rights away. He holed himself in his room, coffee and water his only liquids, and buried himself in the contracts. He googled far too many legal terms, and had countless texts asking if you understood what the contract meant. Namjoon was exhausted by day three and filled with dread. Today he would speak to his Hyungs and break the devastating news of their contracts.

“So, we have to go over our contracts,” Namjoon said. The three men were seated around the dining room table, the Maknae line gone to rehearse. He felt his palms getting clammy as he glanced at the clock, how much time until they came home? “And for me to share a few things with you.”

“It’s bad, isn’t it?” Yoongi asked.

“I’m not sure that even covers it,” Namjoon replied. “Before we start going over the changes, I wanted to share how I’ve been feeling lately, and a few things I haven’t been able to share before.”

“Ah, problems with the lovely Y/N?” Seokjin asked, eyebrows raised.

“No, I just, I’ve been feeling really guilty, and like the reason we’re signing everything away is all my fault. Logically, it isn’t, but I’m filled with dread and hate and spite,” Namjoon said, trying his best to maintain eye contact with his hyungs.

“Oh, what does Bang say?” Yoongi asked.

“I’m not supposed to talk to you about these things,” Namjoon bowed his head.

“Why?”

“In case I inspire you to riot, or to not sign your contract,”

“What have they been saying to you?”

“They’ve continued their usual assault of blaming me for Jungkook’s youthful indiscretions, Jimin following suit and the general ‘disfunction’ of the Maknae line. They are constantly telling me ‘you’re responsible for Jungkook, you raised him. You need to make sure he’s falling in line’. They’ve been putting it all on me since the beginning.”

“But you’re not responsible,” Jin said, confused.

“We’re all responsible,” Yoongi said. “We’re the eldest, we raised him.”

“Bang and management think that it’s our collective failing, like we’ve destroyed what could’ve been if Jungkook had, I don’t know, turned out better,” Namjoon explained.

“That’s fucked up, it’s not our fault, Bang scouted him, Jungkook’s parents started showing him before you signed him, Joon,” Yoongi said.

“Bang thinks that since I was the reason why Jungkook went with BigHit, I’m liable for his actions,” Namjoon clarified.

“He’s his own person, can’t he make his own decisions?” Yoongi asked.

“Nature verses nurture, right? I’m nurture, Yoongi’s nature,” Jin said pointing between the two of them.

“And, I’ve just been feeling really guilty, like everything with Jungkook, him signing up, him signing his life away, is all my fault. It’s my fault you guys are losing your rights to everything you create… It’s all because of me, and I don’t know how to share that burden.”

“You’re not responsible, we all made a decision,” Jin said.

“We’re all responsible for our own actions,” Yoongi agreed.

“Yes, but I signed the first contract,” Namjoon said.

“Namjoon, we were kids.”

“I have these meetings with them, Bang and the lawyers, and all we do is discuss the problems with Jungkook, the ways he’s being disrespectful for ruining the brand. They give me a fucking list of problems and tell me to fix it, or give me tasks to do to aid in his development,” Namjoon looks at his hyungs, eyes tired.

“What?” They said in unison.

“They show up with slide shows and exhibit after exhibit of what he’s doing wrong, and then say I have to address it with him, I have to manage it. They teach me how to, what to say, what to do, and then they blame me when it fails,” Namjoon could feel the frustrated tears building.

“They’re convincing you that you’re the problem, Namjoon,” Yoongi stated.

“You haven’t ruined him,” Jin agreed.

“The tattoos, his hair, how he’s refusing to participate in videos or have a positive attitude in filming, he’s representing the brand negatively, he’s encouraging an uprising with the Maknae, the growing alcoholism that he can’t seem to get a grip on,” Namjoon listed.

“They have presentations?” Seokjin couldn’t wrap his head around it.

“Yes,” Namjoon reiterated.

“How often is this?” Yoongi was curious, was this normal? Did the Maknae have meetings about them?

“At first, it was every two weeks, it’s slowed down has he’s gotten older, but on average about once a month,” Namjoon shrugged, the meetings had become so normal he’d forgotten that they weren’t.

“You’ve been having meetings about Jungkook, regularly, for a decade?” Yoongi was floored.

“I’ve had them,” Jin said, “Not that frequently, but a few times.”

“Why the fuck haven’t I- you know, I understand why,” Yoongi said. “So, you’ve been controlling Jungkook, for a decade?”

“I’m not controlling him, I’m guiding him,” Namjoon snapped, his tone harsher than intended.

“Do you know what his contract says?” Jin asked.

“All of your contracts say the same thing, more or less, with the exception of this year. This year, they are different,”

“Does he know?” Yoongi asked.

“About the meetings? No,” Namjoon and Jin shook their heads simultaneously.

“Mm,” Yoongi nodded.

“I’m sorry they’ve been putting this on you for years, why didn’t you come to us sooner?” Seokjin asked. “I’m the eldest, this is my responsibility too.”

“I’m not allowed to,” Namjoon whispered, ashamed he’d believed the unproven lies he’d been told.

“Allowed to?” Yoongi laughed, the shock echoing in the trilled notes.

“Yes, it’s a condition of my contract,” Namjoon mumbled.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Yoongi said, laugh cut short by sheer awe.

“No, it’s been in my contract for years, this is the first time it hasn’t been,” Namjoon took note of the absence, asking you if he’d read the pages right. They hadn’t included their airtight secrecy clause, not in the mark up, and they never forgot to put it in the mark up.

“Namjoon, what if they find out?” Jin inquired.

“We’re supposed to be discussing the new contract, this is part of that discussion because I am at my breaking point.”

“You aren’t responsible for what Jungkook decides to do,” Yoongi said, “None of us are.”

“It’s my fault he’s here, that he’s in BTS, that he doesn’t have a life or a chance at a future. He’s working himself to the bone, he’s drinking all the time, he’s burning himself out before his career beats him to it.”

“How is that your fault?” Yoongi was growing tired of the narrative Namjoon was spinning.

“I am the reason he’s in BTS,” Namjoon repeated for what felt like the thousandth time.

“You’re never going to move past this, are you?” Yoongi asked.

“I’m trying to,” Namjoon felt defeated.

“You have to relinquish the guilt,” Seokjin said. “Namjoon, we’re all responsible for each other and ourselves.”

“And ARMY,” Yoongi added.

“I just,” Namjoon sighed, wiping tears from his cherub cheeks. “There are things you will never know, and I just needed to share part of the burden.”

“Share more often, we’re here, we’ll talk to Jungkookie about his behavior,” Seokjin said.

“The drinking is,” Namjoon shook his head, unable to find the words to start the conversation.

“When we’re gone, do you think he-” Jin started.

“He has to, he fucking has too,” Yoongi said.

They didn’t broach the topic of things they would never know. The strain it had put on Namjoon, on his voice as the words came out, indicated that Seokjin and Yoongi were treading in dangerous waters, but they didn’t know who or what to be afraid of.

“Should we talk about the contract?” Namjoon offered.

The hyungs nodded, and after he wiped his eyes, Namjoon grabbed his folder. He slid the copy of their new contract to them, tabs still in place, additional ones with notes he’d made sticking out, making it look like Seokjin in Subway Olympics.

“Why did they make clarifications on who we can date?” Yoongi questioned.

“Since when did they know who preferred who?” Seokjin asked.

“That’s not the worst part,” Namjoon said. He waited with bated breath, for the moment he knew was coming.

Yards away, Jungkook stood silently by the entrance to the kitchen, back against the wall, breath held. He was intent on eavesdropping, hearing as much as he could from his hyungs to understand what they were talking about. It didn’t take long to figure out that he was the reason they were meeting, and that he had been the subject of innumerable meetings at headquarters that Namjoon had been forced to attend. Namjoon had made decisions on his behalf, he always did. Jungkook felt the rage that’d been building over the last decade start to take shape, and instead of doing the rational thing, he did what he wanted: he left to get drunk.

“This contract is brutal,” Seokjin said.

“I don’t think we can fix it,” Namjoon replied.

“Can we get outside council? A lawyer not tied to Big Hit?”

“No, I’ve looked into it, even with our finances being independent, there’s no way we can track that Bang won’t hear about it.”

“Can we get Jin’s dad’s lawyers to look at it?”

“We could try, but I’ve got the only copy of the new contract, it can’t be copied, I’m on strict orders to share it with you and return it to Bang,”

“My dad’s team will take a look, for sure,” Seokjin responded. “When do we have to sign?”

“Four days,” Namjoon informed them.

“Aye! So short!” Jin called.

“It took me two days to look through all of it,” Namjoon said.

“Did you talk to her about it?” Jin wondered.

“Yeah, I did.” Namjoon responded.

“What’d she say?” He asked.

Namjoon preferred not to talk about his relationship, mostly because he felt guilty that he was allowed to have one while the bandmembers weren’t. His relationship had been a test, to see if it was possible for an Idol to be in a committed relationship. You told Namjoon the only reason they agreed to an addendum in his contract was because you lived stateside, hours away, and he couldn’t see you often. If management thought you’d be seen together, or be exposed in anyway, it would’ve put a kibosh on the entire relationship. As it stood, you were years into being in love, blissfully so, and no one else in BTS was reaping the benefits of your success.

“She told me to talk to you,” Namjoon wasn’t about to slip that he’d had your dad look at the papers.

“I can drive this to my dad’s office now, is there anything else we need to discuss?” Seokjin asked, setting his phone down.

“I don’t know how to present this to everyone else, and I don’t know what we do if we find lawyers who will represent us in our negotiations,” Namjoon said getting back to business.

“What can we negotiate in this contract?” Yoongi asked.

“I think we can come out swinging against the percentage for writers and producers, and we can try to negotiate a change in their ‘in perpetuity’ clause in terms of ownership,” Namjoon said, offering the alternatives he’d been working on.

“We could argue that we want ownership of everything we make going forward?” Yoongi suggested.

“What do we have to leverage?” Seokjin asked.

“That’s the thing, I don’t know,” Namjoon said.

“We can offer Jungkook up as a sacrifice,” Yoongi chuckled. “Maybe send Jimin too.”

“Maybe we discuss brand deals? Or give them a bigger cut of something?” Jin offered.

“Trade money for artistic license?” Yoongi clarified.

“Yes, they’re not going to budge on the relationships, but if we offer money, instead of their ten percent we do an additional 5% spilt amongst the seven of us,” Namjoon said, setting his pencil down and staring at the number in his notes.

“Would that be enough?” Jin asked.

“We could say max 10% split amongst us, which gives them a higher cut of profits,” Yoongi responded.

“We could argue that without us, they won’t be bringing in nearly the same amount, as a company they’d take a huge hit without us,” Jin suggested.

“Wouldn’t the economy also suffer? Or would they use our catalogue?” Yoongi asked.

“They’re going to want blood,” Namjoon whispered, ignoring the questions of his hyungs.

“Well Jungkook’s one drink away from spilling it all over a sidewalk, so,” Yoongi shrugged.

Across town, in a dive bar that Jungkook had never been to, he sat, drink in hand, glass nearly empty. He’d made a habit of frequenting dives far enough out of town that no one he knew would find him, but close enough that when he was obliterated, he didn’t have to wait impatiently in his chauffeured car to drive him an hour home. He was on his second double on the rocks, choosing to nurse this one instead of chugging it. He kept his notepad near him, pen waiting for him to pick up and start writing whatever drunken thoughts he had. Jungkook would rather swallow his pride before he ever read back what he wrote. He didn’t know if it was healthy or the path to ruin, but he wrote the same old swan song, every damn time. He convinced himself it would be helpful for his writing, or maybe if he ever went to talk to someone about his life, or wrote a memoir, he’d have these. He couldn’t admit that drunk ramblings of a crumbling K-Pop star were nothing more than that.

As he nursed his drink, he repeated the mantra he’d perfected: this time would be different. For the first time in months, he believed it. Today he had proof of his deepest fears. Namjoon was conspiring against him, saying it was in his best interest while steering him towards a full psychological breakdown. Namjoon had told the truth to his hyungs, but to Jungkook, he’d continue to lie, and lie and lie, a million times.

Next: Show Their Truth

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blackfemmecharacterdependency · 4 years ago

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14. Exposing the Void Pt. 2

So, okay... This chapter kinda fucked me up and I rush edited because like... I just want to get past this whole thing. I think it’s important to note that outside of 10 episodes, the concepts we were given in I.T. would be drawn out a little longer and take more time to impact the characters and also for them to deal with and go through. So, as I warned previously, rough content ahead.

Word count 5331 Trigger warnings: Gas lighting,revenge porn, slut shaming, mental abuse,ableist terminology,violence

It couldn't really just be in her head, right? Had the opinions of strangers made her THAT far away from reality? Simon definitely “liked” every single comment where someone was being mean to her this morning… but by the time she asked him about it, none of the comments were liked. She knew she didn't imagine it. It happened for a few days before she flat out asked, "Are you fuckin' with me, Dude?"

"What do you mean?"

"With this liking the comments thing you've been doing, then undoing?" He stared at her like he was worried about her. "It's not funny. If you keep doing that, I'm gonna block you."

He furrowed his eyebrows and rolled his eyes, turning away from her. "Maybe you need to take a break from social media. It's getting to you."

It wasn't "getting to" her! HE was getting to her. Playing these games that she was unsure of why he wanted to mess with her like that. He knew she was sensitive about criticisms. To like the comments? Then unlike them later, so she felt crazy?? Wait… Grace… this is Simon. Why would he do that to you? Maybe you DO need to take a break from social media.

Her parents seemed as happy as she would expect about her wanting to go to college to get more pulp for her performance arts. They weren't easily excited, so their small approval was enough for her.

But… for whatever reason… Simon had talked to them about her issues with the Internet and after a long lecture about how they didn’t raise her to be weak and insecure, she was really at her wits end with Simon. She didn’t say it, but she was pretty irritated about it, to the point that she found herself snapping at him over things, then regretting it when he looked taken aback and hurt. Sometimes, she would see a flicker of anger and expect him to explode, so that they could finally just have their fight and be done with it… but he would always just turn off his reaction, which was probably something that he learned from her, but boy was it infuriating for her to go through.

If SHE fussed after he had diffused things, then she knew that she would be being a bitch. So, she simply choked down the anger and got over it after a little while. It’s just that those moments were frequent enough that it soon felt better to not even speak to Simon at all.

She signed up for talent shows and amateur night spots. She went on auditions for local productions. She threw herself into recitals and built her resume. She shut Simon out and focused on her skills for the future. Despite the fact that Simon was equally busy, she found that he managed to always be at her house whenever he wasn’t busy. They weren’t even kicking it as much. Usually, he was with her parents.

She would come home and chime, “I’m home!” And Simon would say, “Welcome home!” from another room. At first, she would go to greet him, give him a kiss, and speak to her parents, but closer to spring, she didn’t even announce whenever she got in. She came in, listened to see if she heard his voice in the house (usually did), and she would go to her room and start working on whatever music project she was into.

Followers were asking her for new content, but she’d always just say, “I’m working on something.” She would see the chats though - the sorrow and fear of fans that the haters had scared her away from the industry. She would turn on Summer Walker, Ari Lennox, Cleo Sol, Quin, Sza… She would let them sing comfort and confidence into her while she got washed up and set up to work. She would know that she was influenced by their work, but try not to just copy any of them. Plus, she added much more bass to anything that she made. She practiced rapping sometimes, but she often felt silly and knew that she would sound like a Kids Bop album if she actually tried to record her rapping. But, in certain songs, she was able to get away with distorting her voice a little and making portions of the rap match with the songs.

She liked to experiment with various styles, make beats, have a vibey sound that you could also shake to. “Black hippy girl with funk and soul, that’s mellow, but you can groove to it,” was how she tried to describe her work. There wasn’t a genre that really captured it well.

She worked on covers of songs, and made videos like Todrick Hall did, where she put together a cover singing multiple parts… but she didn’t want to share them and be accused of copying. She was copying, but only to see how her own would be. She rented studio time to do demos.

She came out of the studio one night, mentally preparing to go home and see Simon there with her parents, but he was outside when she came out. It startled her, but she smiled and said, “Hey… didn’t expect to see you here!”

“Doesn’t seem like you ever expect to see me,” he said, emotionless.

“Yeah. You’re usually SUPER BUSY with my parents,” she said bitterly, but cheerfully.

“Are you still mad that I told them about your Internet problems?”

“No. I just think it's weird how much time you spend around them. They’re my parents and I don’t even spend that much time around them.” He sighed, annoyed. “What are you doing here?” she asked.

“This is the third night that you’ve been here and left roughly at the same time. If anybody is watching you, they might know your pattern. You should be more careful. You’ll make it easy for enemies to hurt you.” It was a weird thing to say, she had to admit. It creeped her out. His tone and the suggestion, BUT, it also was Simon, who was naturally paranoid, protective, and proactive. So, she figured that he was in worried boyfriend mode and got into the car with him.

Simon wasn’t around her parents as much for a few days. She had some peace, but also had time to think about how much she missed him. She even beat herself up a little and reminded herself that she KNEW this would happen. This was why she didn’t want them to date in the first place. It had ruined their friendship!

She texted him: Hey. I miss you.

Simon: Just a few days ago you didn’t even want to say hi when you came home.

Grace: I mean… I miss you being my friend. We’re where I was afraid we’d be if we dated.

Simon:... Do you want to break up with me???

Simon: Because a text isn’t a nice way to do that.

Simon: And this is a really bad time.

Simon: DO YOU WANT TO BREAK UP WITH ME?

Grace: No. I just want my friend back.

Simon: I want my friend back too. But, you’re the one who changed, Grace. Not me.

Grace: I thought all of my changes were positive, though. So… why didn’t they bring us closer together?

Simon: (Read)

She didn’t hear back from him until the middle of the night, when her phone rang, but she missed his calls. She usually was a pretty heavy sleeper, and she took melatonin, because she could never seem to go to bed at night. 17 missed calls by morning and she called him back first thing. “Simon? Is everything okay?”

Simon looked at his bloodied knuckles and lied, “Yeah. Sorry I called so much last night. I figured you’d be asleep, but I just… needed my friend.”

“What happened?”

“I got into a fight with my dad.”

“He’s home? What was the fight about?”

“I accidentally knocked something down in his workroom and I never picked it up. Listen, I know that you hate me spending time around your parents, but could I crash there a few nights?”

“Yes! Of course!”

“Thanks.” he hung up and looked at his father, who was drunk and passed out, his face pounded in from Simon’s fists. He might be stuck on that couch for a while. He might not even remember the fight that they had the previous night. But, Simon made sure to let out every portion of rage that he ever had towards the man. Surprisingly, it gave him clarity on some things. He had been struggling with whether or not he intended to destroy Grace. She seemed to be coming around in her texts last night. Maybe… he could forgive her. Maybe they could make things work. Even if he couldn’t have her, maybe he could have his friend back. He was going to spend a few night there and try to assess everything.

Thursday through Sunday bliss for Grace. By Monday, as she sat in class, sniffling, her tissues now wet beyond repair, she still couldn’t wrap her head around what had happened. Simon said that he must’ve left his web cam going from when he was practicing his arguments for an upcoming debate. It was important, because they were nearing the end of the school year and this one one of the final debates.

She hadn’t even planned on anything happening between them, but they had been doing so horribly lately and she wanted, more than anything to just feel like she was on his good side again. Hell, sex wasn’t the worst thing a person could do and she had done far more for Simon in her life. So, though it took her a moment to settle herself into being comfortable with it, it wasn’t like she was morally opposed or even repulsed by it. She didn’t have urges, but her parts worked. With enough focus, she knew she could enjoy it and perhaps it was stupid of her to think that it would or could fix anything, but she at least hoped it might help.

Monday morning, everyone was looking at her strangely. Some laughed when she passed. Some whispered. NOBODY seemed threatened. Shana finally broke the silence with a very loud announcement of, “Good Morning, Internet’s Honeypot!” Everyone laughed. That wasn’t funny.

She rolled her eyes, but approached Shana. “What are you so cheery about?”

Shana feigned shock and asked, “Oh, you don’t know, Give It Up Grace? It seems that somebody was naughty over the weekend. I’d even say, downright NASTY!” The girls with Shana started laughing and didn’t stop whenever Grace threw them a warning glare.

Something was wrong with this picture. “What are you talking about, Shana?”

“Your boyfriend says that somebody stole his laptop this morning from the journalism room. A likely story. He’s the only thief in this school. But, whatever the truth is about that, this certainly is authentic,” Shana turned her phone to show Grace what was very clearly her, in a very personal situation with Simon. You couldn’t really see him, but she was certain that anybody who saw this could make him out. She slapped the phone out of Shana’s hand and rushed away. Every pair of eyes that fell upon her seemed to know… they all must’ve seen it. Where was Simon? Had he DONE this to her? She checked the journalism room, where he was talking to a group of boys who she knew weren’t even in journalism… “Simon!” She called.

The boys all began hushed laughter and Simon smiled at her, kicked one’s chair and warned him, “Knock it off.” He met her at the door and she was breathing hard. “You… okay?”

“No! Have you not seen that recording? A recording, mind you, that I didn’t know about nor consent to! Simon, PLEASE tell me that you didn’t record us without checking with me… Tell me that somebody who has it out for me hid a camera or something and…”

“What are you talking about Grace?” He asked. She studied his face. If there was anything that he should be worried about, there was no sign of it on his face.

“Shana said that your laptop got stolen,” she said. “Was there anything on it that you need to tell me about?”

He blushed, “I mean… I do have quite a porn collection,” he said, laughing. “And I found it! I’d apparently just left it in the library. Why?”

“Did you record us this weekend? Yes, or no?”

He furrowed his eyebrows and scoffed, “Is that something that you think I’m capable of?”

The conversation went in circles of her insisting that SOMEONE recorded them and him finally going through his laptop to see the video in question, then denying realizing that he had done this. But, since he left his laptop in the library, anybody could have sent it out. “Why would I do this, Grace? You worshiped me in the moments following this, why would I use it against you?”

“I don’t know!” She squealed, crying and embarrassed and now guilty because she had accused him. He gave her a hug and she cried on him. He walked her to class, but he didn’t seem to mind the whispers that were echoing in her head as they passed people. But, he was a boy.

Nobody was judging him the way that they were judging her. She would hear details like, “You can see that he’s not even wearing protection! She has no self respect.” or “I don’t think he pulled out. Good thing her family can afford abortions.” Then there was Shana. Shana had been waiting YEARS to knock Grace off of her pedestal, and she took every chance she got to do just that.

“Ooop. Backshots Ballerina in the building, Girls!” or “Mommy in the Making Monroe has arrived!” The worst part was that Simon wasn’t defending her. He wasn’t telling Shana to shut her fucking mouth. He wasn’t glaring at people laughing at her. He… seemed to be enjoying the attention. Then again, the attention he got was positive. She saw guys fist bump him and clap him on the back. She saw him laughing with people and them all quiet down when she approached. Simon always had an excuse as for why - none of which were related to “this obsession of yours.”

This obsession? The entire student body had seen her entire body. It was circulating and they were shaming her for a private moment she shared with someone she loved… and he wasn’t even phased by it. Did he even fucking love her??? Was this typical boy bullshit?

“You know Grace, your insecurity was cute at first, but now it’s starting to become pathetic,” Simon said. “You’re a public figure. People will always have something to say about you. Suck it up.” She slapped him in the face and stormed off, equal parts satisfied and mortified that she had reacted that way. She didn’t see the smile on his face as he rubbed his cheek. He was breaking the void down. She was losing respect and she was losing her cool. It had been so long since she reacted in violence. It kinda turned him on. It was like seeing old her for a moment. Even if it was directed at him.

Maybe she could get on a train and just leave town. Cash in her trust fund, buy a bungalow. Never look back… “Grace?” a boy’s voice said. She turned to see one of the Apex dudes. He bowed his head and she tapped her right cheek with two fingers. He came forward and held a sunflower in his hand. “I’m sorry that you’re having such a bad day,” he said and extended it to her.

“What is this?”

He looked confused. “Tribute.”

“We’re still doing that? Nobody has said a word to me all day…”

“Is the Apex over?” he asked.

She sighed and took the flower, shrugged her shoulders and said, “I guess it can live on with Simon. I’m… done with everything in this place.” Tears welled in her eyes and he reached out to offer her a hug. She accepted. Graham? Grant? Was the first person, Simon included, to be nice to her about this thing that she was going through. It was short lived. Simon appeared out of nowhere and before she could think or speak, had the kid by the collar and slammed into the lockers.

“Who do you think you are?” Simon asked him, baring his teeth.

“Simon! That’s Graham! He’s Apex. He was just checking on me!” She said and pulled on Simon’s shoulder.

Simon pressed his forehead to Graham’s and he said, “If I ever see you touch her again, you’ll give your right hand as tribute to me. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Simon. Understood Simon!”

“She’s. Mine.”

“I know, Simon. I’m sorry, Simon.” Simon shoved him and he rushed away. Simon raised an eyebrow and looked at Grace, expecting her to scold him for it. That’s what she was good for these days.

She looked relieved, though. She rushed into his arms and collapsed onto his chest. “I thought you didn’t care about me anymore.” She looked up into his eyes. They still weren’t soft like they used to be, but he had a bit of a smile on his face as he collected her.

“You never have to worry about that.” She squeezed him tightly and cried on his chest. He wanted to tell her to stop it. That people could see her and that she looked weak to them. But… that was the whole point of doing this to her in the first place.

Grace took a few days off of school. Simon brought her homework assignments. She was in bed most of the time. She wasn’t creating. She wasn’t living. She was sort of wasting away. Fortunately, so far the video scandal was being kept among the students, but she lay in waiting for when it went beyond them and she would have to try to explain herself to her parents. This was something that might never go away.

Thursday evening, Simon asked, “Are you ever coming back?” She shrugged her shoulders and climbed into his lap for cuddles. This was her comfort. A bubble with her favorite person, away from social media, away from relentless peers, away from her parents. Simon kissed her on the nose. “Has this… made you never want to try again?”

“No. I almost want to make a purposeful video and send it out myself, just to show these bitches that I’m Grace Monroe, and I can do anything.” Simon’s eyes lit up. That was his Grace! She laughed and rested her head on him again. “How’s it been for you?”

“I don’t like that you’ve let it keep you out of school. You HAD perfect attendance. Now, you don’t.”

“I don’t care about perfect attendance, Simon. I care about… being the perfect girlfriend. That’s my new goal.”

“What brought this on?”

"Just… I think I get why you haven't really been bothered about things. I've been shutting you out, shoving you away. I haven't been as open or supportive as I used to, so why should you be?" He looked different suddenly. He looked like old Simon. She knew those eyes. She knew that smile.

But, within moments, it went from warm, to guilty, to confused, to cold. He shrugged his shoulders and said, "There's a tough transition from childhood best friends to this. As long as you've got it now?"

"I think I've got it now." She said and kissed him again. She melted against his body and he strummed his fingers up and down the back of her neck. This is fucked up, Simon. You did something horrible to her, and now she's apologizing… But, she's still leaving you. It doesn't matter if she feels bad for being a bad girlfriend. It doesn't matter if she wants to undo that. She. Still. Wants. To. Leave. You. Proceed with her destruction… Its destruction. He cradled her, resigned that what he had already done and what he intended to do was completely fair and right.

Grace spent HOURS getting her hair unloc'd. She had to lose a lot of it, but it was still pretty long and made a large puffy halo that she could hardly wait to show off when she got back to school the next week. She felt brand new, though she wasn't excited to see the faces of her tormentors again. She and Simon got out of the car and she wrapped an arm around him and held her hand forward. Simon smiled and they moved forward. The kids made way, she smiled and greeted. Simon was quiet, but confident.

Shana said something and Grace exchanged knowing facial expressions with Simon. He smirked and gave her a little nod. Grace handed her backpack to Simon. She flapped her fingers, said, "Wah wah wah," then uppercut Shana. Uppercut. Shana bit her tongue and stumbled back, her mouth bleeding and her hand on her chin. Simon smirked. Grace accepted her backpack back.

The last time something like this happened (and it had been a while since Grace threw a punch on her own behalf, or on Simon's for that matter, nobody saw anything. They didn't know anything. They didn't say anything. But when the dean came rushing over, asking what happened, someone said, "Grace just assaulted Shana!"

Grace was startled by that. She saw other kids nodding and agreeing that was what they saw. She looked at Simon, who, instead of swaying them back to obedience said, "Shana asked for it." Grace's eyes went wide. The dean grabbed her by the elbow and dragged her to his office. She turned to look at Simon. He was just staring at them. He wasn't riled up or upset or even following. The kids gathered behind him, also just staring… What. The. Fuck…

Her parents were not happy. "Expelled? Expelled?? At the end of the school year?" Her father complained. "Over violence? We didn't raise you like this!"

"You've barely raised me at all!" She snapped. She winced and said, "I'm sorry… I didn't mean to. Shana was bullying me.."

"That's not what all of the other kids are saying."

"It's not even what Simon says," her mother added.

Now, Grace's nostrils flared. "What does Simon say?"

"It's no secret to anyone that Grace and Shana don't get along, but none of us expected it to become physical. Shana was definitely giving her a hard time, but Grace let her temper get the best of her and I hate to say it, but it was pretty uncalled for, to lay her out like that." Her mother read from Simon's text.

"I handed him my backpack. He knew that I was about to lay hands on that bitch. Please! He's just saying that to impress you. Simon's seen…" she shut up. She was about to get herself into more trouble. "He definitely knew what was gonna happen when I handed him my bag."

"Why would he lie, Grace?" Her father asked.

"He's… obviously still mad at me for wanting to go to school. Simon can get really sensitive and a little bit clingy. He's punishing me."

"That sounds like a terrible relationship," her mother said.

"It sounds like Grace making excuses for her disgusting behavior," her father said. The doorbell rang and the butler let Simon in.

He shook Mr. Monroe's hand, bowed to Mrs. Monroe and began speaking to Grace like she was some type of volatile animal. "Heyyy, Grace. Are you okay?" She clenched her fists and narrowed her eyes. "I talked to the Dean to try to get this handled. The best that I could do was to get him to let you finish the school year from home and still have your grades as a student of the Academy. But he does not want you to come into the building again."

"Why didn't you have my back?" She asked.

"Sounds like he did have your back!" Her father fussed.

"I am not talking to you right now, Dad!" She shrieked. Everyone froze and stared for a moment. Her father looked ready to angrily lash back, but her mother wrapped an arm around him and told Simon, "You'd better get her together, or else we'll have to."

"I'll take care of it," Simon said.

"I'll take care of it? You'll take CARE of it???" Grace repeated, then laughed and shook her head.

Simon watched her parents leave the terrace and he sat next to her. "You seem like you have some things on your mind."

Grace was wondering if she was the crazy one? He completely threw her under the bus at school and in front of her parents and they just… ate it up. "Do they know that I'M THE ONE that always has to keep you chill?"

"You're not that one right now."

"That's because you're being different. You're up to something and I can't figure out what?"

"I'm playing the game that we play with parents. You WANTED them to like me, did you not?"

"Not like this! They're not supposed to think you're better than me!"

"I see. I get it now. All those times when you insisted that we should be treated equally, you were just lying to me like you lie to everybody. And now that people are treating me good, you can't stand it."

"This isn't about PEOPLE, Simon, it's about MY PARENTS and how you're... you're... STEALING them!"

Simon tells her, "It's not my fault they like me more than you." Grace started crying. He sighed and rolled his eyes. "God, AGAIN with the crying. You're really a child."

"What is your problem? How can you say something like that to me when you know how I feel about my parents?"

He scoffed, "Yeah. And now we get to the truth about how you feel about me too. This is bigger than your stupid fucking parents." She looked at his face. He looked… like he was having a completely different conversation. His face would never let on that he had just said the mean things to her that he had just said.

"Is… this about me leaving for school? You turned on me because I was gonna leave for school, Simon?"

"You lied to me. You betrayed the Apex."

"The Ape… Simon WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT? The Apex doesn't have anything to do with this!"

"The Apex has everything to do with this!" He finally actually looked as mad at his words. "We were the Apex. Just you and me! We had everything we needed in each other. We belonged together. We built it together. It was our mark on the world. Our show of power and greatness… and you just threw it away! You threw ME away." He out his face into his hands and tried to catch his breath. She still didn't know what this even meant.

"I'm sorry, okay? I'm sorry that it felt that way. I just wanted to do something for myself… if it makes you feel like this, I won't leave, Simon. We'll work it out…"

He uncovered his face and it was surprisingly clear. She couldn't figure out what to think of him, but her heart was all over the place. Simon told Grace to calm down, but she was already sitting quietly, thinking, and she was getting mad that he was behaving like not only a stranger but a… horrible person! "I am calm," she said, though her teeth. "Just still very confused. Why are you being this way, Simon? I just gave you my virginity like a week ago.." her voice cracked.

He smirked, looked her right in the face and said, "That meant nothing to me."

She gasped and clutched her heart. This was… too much. Was she having a nightmare? Simon would never say these things to her. He would never hurt her. "Simon… are you saying that you don't even love me anymore?"

"I'm saying I don't even know who you are. The girl that I loved was strong, powerful and she cared about me. She wasn't a liar, pretending to love me until she could get away from me. Pretending to see me as an equal, but squirms anytime someone sides with me. She was worthy of respect. Whatever you are, you're not even worthy of her name. You're not worthy of respect. And you aren't worthy of love. You're nothing to me."

She shook her head and looked out at the estate. Tears were pouring down her face. He put his hand on her back and rubbed it and for a moment, despite everything he had just said to her, she was relieved that he seemed gentle with her. But the he said, "Before I go, I want you to know that I actually did record us on purpose…" her head turned sharply to him and she stared at his thin lips as he said, "And I'm the one who leaked it." …Then...he smiled.

Grace punched him in the teeth. He threw his hands up to cover his head. He knew her fighting style. She hit you in the face and head and neck. That's where she was swinging, but he was blocking well enough. So well, she was enraged and pulled his hair, twisting it in her fist to try to lift his head. Before she could strike him in the face again,she felt her mother's hands rip her away from him.

"Grace! You've caused us enough trouble with your violent outbursts! And now you’ve set your fists upon Simon?" All Grace could do was roar in anger, startling her mother.

Simon almost couldn’t hide his smirk. Luckily Mrs. Monroe was staring at her daughter (in horror), "I'm sorry, Mrs. M This was my fault. I didn't mean to make her so mad. I know how she gets when she gets mad…" Grace charged at him, but Mrs. Monroe stood between them and grabbed her wrists.

"WE will talk about this later!" She placed a hand on Simon's back and led him back into the house to assess the damage and be sure that he wasn't ready to sue like Shana's parents were.

Grace asked herself, "Am I fucking crazy?" Simon smirked at her as he walked away with her mom. "No. He's. Crazy. HE'S fucking crazy!" She grabbed a handful of her fro and leaned on the rail with the other hand, sobbing.

Simon turned to Mrs. Monroe and said, "You realize that I love her right?"

Mrs. Monroe became visibly tense as she replied, "I realize that there's some feelings between you that you believe are very strong, but I also know that my daughter is hard to love."

"That's not true! I loved Grace almost the moment I met her. She's very generous. She's helpful. She's protective, oh and she's genuine... being genuine is the most important trait of a friend."

While Mrs. Monroe wasn't paying attention to him, he and Grace looked at each other through the window, and he glared at her hatefully. She stormed through the living room and up the stairs, slamming the door behind her.

Then, she just… cried again, and sat down on the floor. She's unsure to this day how long she sat there, but she knows that both of her parents came together, each separately, the housekeeper, the butler and some doctor tried to talk to her before she finally got up, went into her bathroom and resumed sitting in the bathtub. She was there for 13 hours. She remembers that much. Not much else. The entire time period was just… day after day of hurt. And he still wasn't done with her.

#If They Didn't Get on the Train #AU Infinity Train #Infinity Train #Nesha Fanfiction #Infinity Train Fanfiction #fics

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kerterm · 5 years ago

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Tips for dissociative disorder, depersonalization, derealization, panic attacks/anxiety, sensory overload

1. Listening to calm music or ambient sounds: this one is huge for me, because complete silence sends me further into dissociation and derealization. Youtube is great for this. I recommend “Ambient Worlds”. They are a youtube channel that features relaxing movie soundtracks with ambient nature sounds such as the Shire and others!

2. Distracting yourself: whether its with a simple video game, or funny animal videos, distracting your brain from your dissociation can help you from hyper fixating on it and spiralling further. Anything that will make you smile or laugh is recommended! As for games, I enjoy Animal Crossing Pocket Camp and the Terrarium Idle Garden on my phone! I also recommend trying kids shows on netflix such as: Hilda, the dragon prince, troll hunters, avatar the last air bender. Or on other platforms: Steven Universe, Studio Ghibli movies, or any disney movies. Soft, simple animation just relaxes me so much.

3. Talking to someone about whats on your mind: it’s important to realize that dissociating is just your brain trying to protect you from your pain and anxiety. Talking to a trusted friend or therapist about whats bothering you can help immensely. As you work through things, your anxiety will lessen which in the long run will make dissociating less frequent.

4. Sensory stimulation: When i dissociate, I’m extremely sensitive to sensory stimulation and i can get sensory overload very easily. But there are gentle sensory things to do that will help! I like to get a brush (any kind should do) and just gently brush it along my skin. This stimulates the nerves and reminds my brain that I am real, and helps my sense of space normalize. I usually end up brushing my arms, legs, stomach, back, and neck even. If you have sensory issues with textures, use your hands and rubs your arms or lightly scratch them. (Talk to your therapist or doctor if this becomes harmful to you, such as skin picking etc. you deserve help 💕) Also any sort of sensory toy is wonderful for this too. It helps with grounding and its a great distraction!

5. Self care ideas: this is a great distraction for your brain and will always make you feel better. If you can’t do these right now, thats okay too. Heres some things you can do: Cleaning your room (even just a small part), watering your plants, spending time with family or friends or pets, skin care routines, making a quick snack, get some water to drink, take your medication, brush your hair and teeth, deodorant is cool, have a hot shower/bath, light candles, put on a diffuser, turn on all your string lights, make a pillow fort, find all your old stuffies and make a pile in your bed, become a blanket burrito and watch netflix all day, pick up your favorite book again, dance to your favorite song, do anything that makes you happy as long as it doesn’t hurt you or anyone else. Have a you day. Its okay. You’re allowed to.

6. Other tips: I recommend using orange oil, this stuff has literally stopped panic attacks in their tracks for me, just a drop on the back of your neck. Also noise cancelling headphones are a blessing when you’re over stimulated. I bring them everywhere. Always have music and a charged phone with you. If you’re ever lost and alone, it’s important that you be able to find help. And relaxing music helps everything. Also If you have trouble falling asleep because you don’t recognize your surroundings or other issues, maybe try an over the counter melatonin.(read the label for dosage, don’t take too many). This helps on my worst nights. Or there are many essential oils for sleep as well. And if you still aren’t comfortable sleeping, get a night light or a salt lamp.

7. Also, please consider therapy. It has done wonders for me and its the only treatment that has actually helped me. (Ive tried everything from anti depressants, to natural supplements, to reflexology, etc etc etc) theres no shame in needing it and it will help you recover faster. But it’s important to know you may not have a good experience your first time. Sometimes it takes a while to find the right counsellor. And thats normal. Don’t be discouraged. you deserve to get the treatment you need.

8. IF YOU’RE NOT FEELING WELL BECAUSE OF THIS MENTAL ILLNESS, YOU’RE ALLOWED TO STEP BACK. YOU’RE ALLOWED TO TAKE A BREAK AND COLLECT YOURSELF. YOU’RE ALLOWED TO CALL IN SICK. YOU’RE ALLOWED TO REMOVE YOURSELF FROM ANY STRESSFUL, ABUSIVE SITUATION. YOU’RE ALLOWED TO HAVE BOUNDARIES. I didn’t know this, it’s important.

9. Remember that its gonna pass. Take a deep breath. It might seem scary right now. This might all be new to you, and you might not know what to do. BUT. Its going to be okay. This is normal and it does make sense. Your brain is just trying to protect you from all those things that stress you out. You’re not going insane. This is okay. Accept that you are spaced out today. Take your time. It will pass and you will get better. I promise.

#depersonalization #derealization #derealisation disorder #disociation #sensory overload #overstimulation #anxienty #panic attack #anxiety attack #advice #this is a psa #mental health #self care #mental health advice #mental health acceptance #depression

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transephiroth · 4 years ago

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an important post: abuse from friends, friend abuse. please read and reblog.

TW: abuse ment, bpd ment, ed ment, suicide ment, ptsd, trauma, death ment. gaslighting ment.

i don’t know what exactly what has compelled me to make this post at nearly 1:00 am on a school night just like every other, but i think the importance of advocacy of preventing, spotting, and stopping abusive friendships is to talk about them with the same respect as any other form of abuse.

i’ll give you a small overview of my personal experience with abusive friendships: when i was 16, my father committed suicide. i was not aware he was my biological father at they time and actually found out he was not my half brother, but my biological father. my father, who’s name i will not mention. i won’t even use fake names they’re hard to keep track of. i found out my mother, an abusive drug addict, slept with her husband, my apparent grandfather’s, adult son from a previous marriage consensually. one way or another, my father was forbidden to be involved in my life, and my grandfather raised me as his own. (in case you’re going to ask about inc*st, my father and mother have no relation, she is not his mother.)

the shock of learning this and grieving his death from the few negative interactions he and his mental health had on my family when i was a baby, was intense. i had no friends at school and felt incredibly lost and vulnerable. when i was in this place i met my best friend. we bonded over a shared hatred of my ex boyfriend, who was an abuser, who was dating her ex best friend.

this should have been a red flag, but i ignored it.

i took the first friend i could find after my ex took away all my friends in an effort to isolate me after my assault. this was probably the worst part of my life, and one of my first real suicide attempts was only days before my father died. the first friend i found, the first soul i recognized i clung to.

when me and my friend, who we will call P, were inseparable. but there was a very clear and distinct difference between us. P was a star in the band at school, she had great grades, tons of friends and was quite conventionally attractive. she was involved in a lot of extracurriculars and overall had a very nice demeanor.

this should have been a red flag. as harsh as it might sound, idealizing anyone is unhealthy. if someone appears to you as perfect, it’s not paranoid of you to wonder if it’s hiding something. it’s hard to tell when someone is being genuine, especially for myself with autism. nice words and a smile can pretty much fool anyone.

i, on the other hand of P, dropped out of band and just about every other activity after my assault, and was in and out of intense therapy and psych visits throughout all of high school. i never could go a school year without a visit. to this day i have gone a whole year however :)

I was an autistic shut in who quite honestly, cried a lot, smelled bad, was clearly poor, spoke funny and came to school drunk. we were not the same.

i don’t want to go over every painstaking detail, so i’ll try to summarize as best i can the first two years of our three year relationship.

P was diagnosed with BPD about a month into our friendship. she told me i was her FP/favorite person, and showed me videos to learn about BPD. i remember watching hours and hours of information about BPD to accommodate her the best i could. what i didn’t realize however, was that she was lying. she didn’t have BPD, or at least couldn’t be diagnosed because we were 16.

red flag. i knew this was a lie because i had been in therapy for years. it took me a long time to peace it together but i accepted it and beget told her, until this moment, that i knew.

i fucking knew.

months of friendship included constant easy to see through lies, fabrications, pathological rants, and pretty much changing her “back story” every day. it was draining not to mention it, but the few times i did, she got physical. i have scars on my right forearm from her nails, which were long and broke skin. she would tell me she would pay me back for things and never show. she would make fun of things i told her in secret to our friends, my trauma. my dad.

“dark humor”

over time, she convinced me to drop every single friend i had except for her. she had gotten me literally completely vulnerable and isolated.

when covid hit, my mom, of course, kicked me out. i moved in with P and her family. my time there over quarantine was very monotonous, but i’ll never forget that for basically 8-9 months, she never let me out of her sight. i felt like i had to just do whatever she wanted because her mother let me live there for free.

p knew i wanted to move away from my mother and the chaos of my home life for years.

right before quarantine, P got her first boyfriend. she had never had a boyfriend and had been to scared to get one. i was really happy for her, i encouraged her to ask him out while she was at a weekend school event.

P then began to manipulate not only me, but him. to this day i don’t know what’s become of either of them, but i really couldn’t care less anymore. when trauma heals, you get a sense of apathy.

P would frequently belittle me, mock me, kick, trip and slap me, force me to pay for things for her and her boyfriend on the spot, and steal from my purse.

eventually living with p, third wheeling with her less than charming boyfriend, who i honestly just didn’t mind. we weren’t friends, but i was respectful to him and treated him the same way i would treat a friend from school or something.

p has a family i won’t bring up because it involves minors, but her mother has a psychotic disorder and refuses to be medicated, so the house is full of ripped door hinges, holes in walls, smashed items and more. it’s really unsafe there, and during my time there i found i really began to internalize as a person. i developed an eating disorder and my ptsd and autism felt much more out of control.

i had been diagnosed with autism for nearly two years at that point, and living in that household made me realize just how damaging meltdown after meltdown without anyone understanding can damage your psyche long term.

i wanted to leave. i had saved my money from my jobs and got an apartment. p insisted on coming, saying she didn’t want to live with her mom anymore. i didn’t want her to come, but i agreed. she got a co-sign. i knew it was a bad idea because i heard what they said about best friends living together. i just can’t believe it really happened.

we talked about growing old together, raising our kids together. i was going to name my first daughter after her. we were going to be neighbors. her husband and my wife would be best friends just like us, but that’s not what happened.

we lived together from August 2020-November 2020

to give a quick summary of the inevitable end of this relationship, P and I had two kittens together. i asked her if she could put them away for inspection so they didn’t run out the door while i drove our third roommate, a whole other mountain of a story, to work.

she didn’t do it, instead slacked off to go to her boyfriends house. so i came back and had to put the cats away at record speed and our other roommate was late to work.

even if this was somewhat small, it was the breaking point for me. i grabbed my phone and texted her, DEMANDING she explain why she couldn’t do this one thing for me. i have never been that angry in my life. we had a phone call where i just lost it and unleashed all my anger and all my hurt about everything she had done. i was sobbing and barely making sense but i couldn’t just keep letting my life carry on this way.

i wish i remembered how the phone call ended, but all i remember was telling her “if the cats run and we can’t find them, then we are done being roommates.”

the next morning i woke up and she had blocked me on everything. i drove to the apartment and saw that overnight, according to block times at like, 3am, she had taken all our shared furniture, all my birthday gifts from not two weeks prior, all the gifts i bought her, most of my clothes, one of the apartment keys, my high school diploma, the paperwork for the cats, and not just our two shared kittens, but my third roommates cat as well.

cue search party with my partner and his friends and my other roommate for P and the cats. i found her at her house with her mom and boyfriend. i walked out and she was on the phone with my grandfather, telling him i was threatening suicide. i ask her where the cats are, she says they are at a friends house.

if we flashback in the story, we literally only had each other, so i knew it was a lie.

i managed to argue through to negotiate at least my other roommates cat, but only after P’s mom blocked us in the driveway and called the police saying we threatened her daughter

(reminder people in this group were black and asian ☺️ so she just calls the cops fall 2020)

luckily the cops saw the proof she blocked me so i couldn’t have threatened her, and let us leave.

that’s the end of the friendship. i could bore anyone who has read this far further by explaining the nightmare realm that is the legal troubles with the apartment, but the internet doesn’t need to know everything does it?

as the winter has gone on i’ve had months to basically remake myself as a person. i had to firstly face the damage P had done.

but before i get into that, anyone who is still reading first, ily, but also, if you’ve had ANY relationship that sounds similar to this, THAT IS ABUSE.

Plain and simple. It is abusive. Physically, emotionally, mentally, verbally. nobody deserves that. not P. not you. not me.

friendships can be all someone has. not everyone is born into good families with loving siblings and great parents and tons of cousins who live .3 milliseconds away. families are divided. families, like mine, are divorced. families are broken and families sometimes aren’t even families. humans need relationships, and an idealistic person who we think maybe could save us and fix the world, won’t.

you can be taken advantage of by the person you trust the most just as easily as a stranger.

it’s not wrong to face the abuse they put you through, know it was wrong, and feel valid that it is was wrong.

what i went through with P was horrible. the detachment of my only friend hurt. but i bounced back. i’m still undoing some of the damage, but i have great friends and a wonderful partner. i have two rescue cats who mean the world to me.

life gets better after abuse, but the bad days and the pain aren’t invalid because of this. i have trauma from what P put me through. abandonment like that is traumatic. but it’s not the end. feel what you need to feel to feel better.

if anyone read this far and wants to vent their own experiences, or share more advice on preventing these relationships feel free. it’s almost 1:30 now, i should go to bed.

it feels good to get that off my chest.

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athingthatwantsvirginia · 4 years ago

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The Steinbeck Agreement

PART TWENTY-THREE OF THE DO YOU SEE HER FACE? SERIES

Pairing: Jess Mariano x Original Character (Ella Stevens)

Warnings: discussions of familial physical/emotional abuse please read with caution, serious angst, anxiety about future, plentiful pop culture references

Word Count: 6K

Summary: Ella makes some major changes in her life, and Jess reluctantly returns to town for his mother’s wedding.

The afternoon light streamed golden through the diner windows as Liz and Luke came in, Ella leaning on the counter with her sketchbook in front of her. Too enveloped in the drawing of a field of murderous daisies, Ella didn’t even register what they were talking about until she heard them mention her name.

“...maybe Ella could do it,” Liz said, tilting her head at the young woman with dark eye makeup and EAT ME printed across her shirt.

“Hm?” Ella asked, looking up from her sketch with furrowed brows.

Luke rolled his eyes at her distracted nature. Ever since she’d moved out of her childhood home, she’d been in a worse mood, focused almost solely on her terrifying drawings. He’d had to tell her a couple times to make sure to keep the sketchbook off the counter when there were children present.

“Be a flower girl,” Liz said, a big, dreamy smile on her face. She was dressed in a long, floral red dress. “Most of the Renaissance fair crowd doesn’t have small children. But if we’re gonna have a wedding, we’re gonna have a real wedding. Can’t be a wedding without a flower girl.”

“Sorry, whose wedding?” Ella asked, straightening up and raising an eyebrow.

“Mine, sweetie.” Liz had a high, wispy voice that reminded Ella of the fairies she used to imagine playing in her mother’s garden. “We’re having it right out in the square next week. It’s gonna be beautiful, all our Renaissance fair friends will be there, and it’ll have this great medieval theme! And you could be the flower girl!”

“Oh, I don’t…” Ella began with a shy smile, but Liz only waved a dismissive hand at her, continuing.

“I can loan you one of my fair dresses,” she said excitedly, not picking up on Ella’s doubtful expression.

“Yeah, Ella. You can finally perfect your whole Bride of Frankenstein look,” Luke teased. His expression was far more pleasant than Ella could have predicted. Happy. Happy, in its simplest form, looked so strange on Luke. The past few months had seen the true finalization of his divorce and his having to watch Lorelai date some rich snob from her father’s company. But the news seemed to brighten his mood inexplicably. She was sure the laughter at her expense wasn’t exactly a drag on the day either.

Rolling her eyes, Ella shot him a pointed glance. “Y’know, you would be lost without your best waitress.”

“I’m quaking in my boots. Besides, I’ve got Lane working for me now, anyway.”

Though she narrowed her eyes at him, she could think of nothing more to say. He was right. She would never quit on him. The diner was more of a home to her than anywhere else in the world. Hell, it had almost single-handedly fed her during the worst few months of her life. Along with Lorelai’s frequent feasts of junk food.

“I can just see it, Ella! It’ll be so much fun and you’d look so beautiful!” Liz exclaimed, grabbing one of Ella’s hands in a pleading gesture.

Biting the inside of her cheek, Ella did her best to protest. She still wasn’t Liz’s biggest fan, despite wherever it was that she stood with Jess. The alcohol, the neglect. But Luke seemed not entirely angry about the match, especially considering his view on TJ when the two had first been introduced back in February. And Liz’s smile was so large, so radiant. Her eyes were desperate and almost kind. Heaving a huge sigh, Ella nodded. Luke was much more than her boss. And he gave a smile so rare when she agreed. She would do it for Luke, she decided. In fact, it was the least she could do.

. . .

Sat on the lumpy couch in Lane’s living room, Ella found herself smiling just a touch. The band, finally named Hep Alien, was getting better with every practice. Though the room was piled high with dirty clothes and video game equipment, and it remained cluttered no matter how many times Ella tried to clean it up, she was beginning to get more comfortable. Her king mattress was so old anyway, and sleeping on the plaid couch wasn’t much different. As she had run from the only house she had ever known, she’d packed as much as she could into her station wagon, which had once been her aunt Julie’s. It wasn’t like her old room fit much anyway. Mostly, the backseat was filled with her records, books, clothes.

Loud music making her ears ring, she sketched Lane behind the drums, living the way she had always wanted. As fun as it was watching band practice nearly every night, Ella was eager for her summer classes to start. If she played her cards right, she could graduate a year early with art as a minor. Ella’s mind drifted to the night she left, the day after she finally finished her first year of college. And, over a modest celebratory dinner, the conversation had drifted, as it always did, to the future.

. . .

two and a half weeks earlier

Tugging with one hand at the ends of her hair, Ella felt an odd mixture of distasteful nostalgia and happiness in her stomach. The lasagna tasted exactly as her mother’s had, and Ella knew Fiona had followed the recipe, scribbled in the back of the ancient cookbook, exactly. But she would keep quiet. Fiona truly seemed proud of her, beaming and giving her a hug the moment she walked through the door after work. Slowly, very slowly, Ella was beginning to accept it, the motherly love. Though occasionally it still rubbed her the wrong way, it didn’t send her spiralling into anger and melancholy as it once had.

And it wasn’t as though Fiona was a bad person. She had a sunny disposition, glossy hair, expressive eyes. Ella could understand how her father would want to marry her. But she was just too unlike her mother. Would never understand Ella the way her mother had. It still felt like bizarro-world when Fiona tried to give her advice or compliment her on her piano skills. But she could manage dinner every once and a while, and accept pride in her academic accomplishments. She was on the Dean’s List, after all.

Adam pushed his food around his plate as he spoke. From the glances they’d shared, Ella could tell he tasted the same memories from childhood she did.

“We’ve still got about a month, but I really think we can get first place,” Adam said of his mathlete competition. His voice had gotten deeper, and he was finally growing taller. Ella could tell he would end up looking a lot like Noah.

“That’s great,” Jake said, nodding with a half-smile.

“Really is,” Fiona echoed, grinning widely.

As silence fell on the four of them, forks scraped on the Corelle plates and throats were cleared. Awkward silences had quickly become staples of family dinners. Eventually, Jake began twisting his wedding ring and looked straight at Ella, who sat at his left side. The light in the peach kitchen was bright despite the cloudy darkness outside. The May evening was humid and buzzing with cicadas.

“And what about you, Ellie?” Jake asked.

Looking up carefully, Ella put down her fork and faced him. “What about me?”

“Do you have any prospects for the summer? Besides the diner?”

She shook her head. “No. Unless Patty needs me to fill in. Might start painting more. I’m thinking a small easel would fit pretty well near the window in my room.”

Narrowing his eyes doubtfully, Jake tilted his head slightly. “I don’t know. Seems like a waste of money.”

“Why?” she asked instantly.

“We don’t have to discuss this now,” Fiona interjected patiently.

Adam looked down at his plate as he ate.

Jake breathed a frustrated sigh through his nose. “You’re majoring in history. You’re living with us for at least three more years. I don’t think now’s the time for pipe dreams.”

“Hm,” Ella nodded, giving a thin, vicious smile. “It’s funny you say that. When mom was alive, you always thought I should put as much time into my art as she put into her music.”

“You were a kid. Things change. The best you can hope for is being a history teacher at Stars Hollow High, and you have to be happy with it,” Jake explained with cold logic in his voice. His eyebrows were raised in condescension.

Ella’s cheeks heated up. “Oh, so all this time you’ve just been humoring me? Telling me I had talent?”

“Not exactly. But you’re not O’Keefe, either.”

“Never said I was,” Ella snapped, standing up from her seat. “I can't do this right now. I’m buying my fucking paint, dad.”

“Hey!” he shouted, rising from his own seat and following her as she stormed into the living room towards the hall entrance. “Don’t you use that language with me, young lady!”

“Why not?! Might as well let you know how I actually talk if you’re gonna let me know how you actually feel!” she yelled back, gesturing wildly with her hands.

Jake rolled his eyes at his only daughter. “Toughen up, Ellie! You’ve only got so much time on this earth and I’m not gonna watch you waste it on your doodles!”

“Oh, and lecturing about the revolutionary war in the town where I’ve always lived wouldn’t be a waste?” she asked, crossing her arms over her chest.

“At least you’ll make a living! You’ll still be around people who love you, who take care of you. You’ll always be near us,” he argued.

Ella let out a bitter, humorless bark of laughter. “People who take care of me?! I’ve been taking care of you for almost five years! All of you! Especially you! When mom died, I was the one who fed us, I was the one who cleaned and tried to cook! And you did fuck-all except drink and lie around crying!”

Eyes darkening, Jake took a step closer to her and she immediately recoiled. “I lost my wife. You will never understand that!”

“I lost my mother!” she screamed, hands clenched at her sides, so hard her knuckles turned white. Angry tears snuck up on her eyes but she swallowed them back to the best of her ability.

“If I’d have known how much you’d bitch about helping out, doing what a daughter should, I never would’ve let you take that job at Luke’s!”

“Doing what a daughter should?” she asked immediately, eyebrows shooting up. Her jaw was set firm with tension.

Fiona appeared from the kitchen behind her husband, putting a hand to his shoulder. “Baby, let’s just all take a minute to cool down.”

“You brother and I needed you and all you could do was complain!” he roared.

Ella scoffed. “You needed me? You needed me to keep you alive long enough for you to find a new wife to coddle you and baby you and cry with you when you told her about your tragic high school sweetheart! Why do you think she hates you, huh?”

Her stomach did a flip when she saw the hurt on Fiona’s face from the corner of her eye, but a fire burned so hot inside her, and she couldn’t keep her words contained any longer. She’d tried to play the dutiful woman of the house long enough.

“Do not talk about my marriage!” Jake warned. “It’s none of your business!”

“Of course it’s my business! It’ll be my business when I have to pick up the pieces once she leaves you!”

“You have always been such a little brat! You were a nightmare to raise for me and for Sophia!” A vein had popped out in his forehead, and he shrugged Fiona’s touch from his shoulder.

“Fuck you!”

Crack! Ella seemed to hear it before she felt it: a sharp, searing pain as his open palm struck her cheek. It was a feeling she hadn’t experienced in so long, not since she was ten and had mouthed off at the dinner table. A sinking feeling struck her stomach as silence filled the room. Because she suddenly discovered she had always been expecting it. Always knew it would happen again, someday, somehow. And she’d been almost surprised he hadn’t smacked her in the months following her mother’s death. But, the levee had to break. It always did.

She brought a hand to her stinging flesh, and her father stopped in his tracks. Remorse washed over his features and he went to reach out for her. Flinching away from him, Ella felt her fingers grip at her necklace.

“Ellie, I’m so sorry, baby. I told you not to use that language with me. And you know how my old man was about-”

“No,” she said softly, shaking her head. “No.”

. . .

The final, strong bass note of the White Stripes song Hep Alien played broke her from her memories. She could see the dull sky as she packed up her car the best she could, the night crossing over into morning as she offered Adam a quick goodbye. He’d been upset, but also somewhat calm. And when he’d come to visit her a week later during one of her shifts at the diner, he told her he had always known Ella would leave. From the first night after their mother had died, he’d known. Though he knew it was fruitless to try and convince her not to feel guilty, Adam had told her not to worry. He could handle home on his own, he was confident. He’d never been slapped. And they were both smart enough to understand why.

And when she’d come to Lane in the early hours of the morning, still painfully holding back her tears with the entire contents of her life parked out on the street in the station wagon, she knew everything would change. Lane had welcomed her with open arms, of course. Had seen Ella cry for only the third time in all their years knowing each other. There was something so sweet about her new freedom, but a heaviness still sat in Ella’s heart. Constant guilt and fear for Adam, heartache over her mother, who she still missed everyday. And she felt so lost, it was all-consuming. She didn’t know what the next step was. Would she still be able to pay for college? Would she ever speak to her stepmother again? Would she even stay a history major, if she was lucky enough to continue her education? She had never been more glad for Luke’s, and for her friends. There were few comforts in her life, continued existence as a waitress, or knowing Adam was only a few blocks away in case something ever happened. She clung to the only constants left for dear life. She’d been dreaming of leaving the house for so long, but it managed to be even harder than she thought it would be. A gloomy cloud had been hanging over her for a few weeks, as she walked through her existence with an aimlessness she had never known before.

Clapping some, Ella offered a big smile and watched as Zach, Gil, and Bryan began to talk amongst themselves about the new tattoo Gil had shown up to practice with. Lane excused herself from the conversation only because of the temptation. She wanted a tattoo, really did, but didn’t want to increase the chances of her mother disowning her any more than she already had. Instead, she came to join Ella on the couch, plopping down and putting an arm around her friend. Ella kept her smile and rested her head against Lane’s shoulder. Since moving in, Ella was reminded every day of what a wonderful person Lane was. They came from such different worlds, but never judged each other, always took care of each other, helped each other with their respective escapes. Working together at Luke’s had been even more fun than Ella could have ever imagined. It was a welcome end to the long, lonely year after Jess’s departure, just she and Luke sulking around together. There was a place for sulking, but the time for it seemed to be coming to an end.

“You guys were fucking great,” Ella said, then gestured down to the picture she had just drawn. “You’re a regular Meg White up there. Really.”

“Flattery will get you everywhere,” Lane chirped, beaming with pride.

Snorting a laugh, Ella put the sketchbook aside and bit back a yawn. “Don’t I know it.”

“Hey, are you okay?” Lane asked, brows furrowing.

It almost made her want to laugh. Over the past two weeks, Lane had asked her that question more than had once seemed humanly possible. “Yeah, Lane. I’m fine. Just a long day. Got roped into being a flower girl.”

“What?”

“Yeah, Luke’s sister. Liz. Have you met her before? You weren’t working at the diner yet the last time she was in town,” she said tiredly.

“No, I haven’t,” Lane replied. “Jess’s mom, right?”

“She is indeed.”

“And why exactly are you filling what is traditionally a role for a girl in pigtails and Mary Janes?”

Blowing out a sigh, Ella shook her head slightly. “I don’t even know. She just sort of told me...didn’t exactly ask. It’s next week in town square, so there’s not enough time. And Luke really seemed like he wanted me to and I just...I don’t know. Maybe she’s a witch.”

“Always a possibility,” Lane nodded, going along with the bit as she always did. “And have you heard from Jess lately?”

Again, Ella shook her head. “He still doesn’t have an actual phone number, and now I don’t either. Not optimum communication conditions.”

“Yeah, that’s not ideal,” Lane said, commiserating.

“I wish it had crossed my mind, but I moved out in about forty-five minutes,” Ella said, fiddling with her necklace.

A guilty look painted her features. But she’d only been out of the house a little while, maybe he hadn’t called.

“Do you think he’ll come for the wedding?”

Ella scoffed. “Not a chance in hell.”

. . .

“Are you sure I can’t help with anything else?” Ella asked, arms crossed over her chest.

Her chewed pencil sat behind her ear, and her hair fell in a loose, hasty braid over her shoulder. One of her booted feet tapped constantly against the tiled floor, and she smoothed over her blue skirt every few minutes. And she only looked half as stressed as Luke. The wedding was in two days, and nearly everything had been dumped on him. As a consequence, Ella had been dealing with the diner business while Luke argued on the phone with vendors who could give him the proper medieval food and decor.

The midday lull had finally come, and Lorelai stopping in was sure to bring a little sunshine. Though she had been pretty overwhelmed herself, lately. The new Dragonfly Inn opening was only weeks away.

Luke shook his head at Ella when he’d finished giving Lorelai the rundown of the week’s events. “Not right now, kid. That was the last call I had to make. At least for the time being.”

“Just say the word,” Ella shrugged, finally letting herself relax a touch, leaning her forearms onto the counter.

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

“So, am I caught up on everything, then?” Lorelai chimed in, brows raised and eyes expectant.

“Yeah, I’d say so…” Luke began, but the bell over the door jingled.

A familiar scowl appeared in the diner’s entrance, and Jess trudged up to the counter with a finger pointed at Luke. “I’m not paying for a motel, so I’m stayin’ with you!”

Lorelai gasped dramatically and narrowed her eyes at Luke. “Liar!”

As he passed on his way to the stairs, Jess gave Ella a curt nod. She reciprocated, but felt unnerved by his demeanor. Was it shy? Was it angry? It certainly didn’t seem pleasant. They hadn’t spoken in nearly three weeks, the longest time since he had first run away to California.

“I didn’t think he was coming,” Luke muttered, watching Jess disappear up the stairs. A wistful, fond smile crossed Luke’s lips. “I went to see him in New York.”

“You did?” Ella asked, brows furrowed.

“Yeah. It was a total pig sty and he may or may not be a drug dealer. But, hey, at least he came,” Luke said, shaking his head in a mixture of amusement and wonder.

Sighing through her nose, Ella looked down at her feet and bit at the inside of her cheek. Her gaze focused on nothing in particular, thoughts swimming around and colliding with each other inside her already crowded mind. “Yeah. At least. I’m gonna take my ten minutes. That alright?”

Luke was busy, back to his banter with Lorelai, and only gave a half nod her way. She snickered at how enveloped in each other the two of them were. Without much effort, she slipped behind the curtain and climbed up the stairs unnoticed. Nerves coursed through her, and her heart sped up in her chest. She gave two short, harsh knocks on the window of the shabby apartment door.

After waiting a moment and receiving no response, she rolled her eyes to herself. Who was she to be nervous? He was pretty much her best friend, besides Lane. And she hadn’t done anything wrong. With a new, determined quality to her steps, she walked through the front door and found him just where she expected, on his old bed, nose already buried in a book.

Crossing her arms over her chest, she plastered on a confident smirk and sat down on the end of the bed. She recognized the book instantly, her own copy buried in the pile of belongings in her car: Sweet Thursday by John Steinbeck.

“The only author we could ever agree on,” she said, eyeing the book though Jess still hadn’t lifted his head.

“Pretty much,” he replied flatly, biting at his bottom lip as he focused on the words in front of him.

Sighing shortly through her nose, Ella turned to face him fully, sitting criss-cross applesauce on the familiar brown afghan. Jess unconsciously brought his feet in closer to make room for her, his knees up in the air, blocking her view of his face slightly. But she could see his hair, longer still and without any gel.

“See you’ve completely ditched the pompadour look,” she muttered. “Couldn’t handle being mistaken for an Elvis impersonator any longer, huh?”

“My God, you should do stand-up,” Jess said dryly, eyes widening in feigned amazement as he kept reading.

Shaking her head slightly, Ella let a harsh chuckle escape her lips and furrowed her brows at him. “Out with it, jackass.”

“Hm?” he asked dismissively, taking a pencil from his pocket to underline a phrase.

Ella pursed her lips in frustration. “Well, it’s obvious you’re pissed. I say we skip the passive-aggressive theatrics and you just spill it. But, hey, this is a democracy. You also get a vote.”

Rolling his eyes, Jess finally shot a glance over his knees. Heaving a sigh, he shut his book and tossed it into the open duffel bag on the floor next to the bed. In one swift movement, he mirrored her sitting position and tilted his head at her in askance.

“Have you been doing a lot of hard partying lately? Really taking advantage of this college thing? Or have you been avoiding my calls?” he asked, though he wasn’t angry, despite the sarcasm. There was a defeated tone in his voice which surprised her; almost disappointed.

Biting the inside of her cheek, she gave another small shake of her head, and she spoke firmly. “Well, first of all, I’m not required to take your calls. I asked you to call me because you fucked off to California without telling me and I wanted to make sure you hadn’t been serial-killed.”

Jess gave a begrudging nod, almost preparing for a dressing down.

“But, no, I haven’t been avoiding your calls, alright? Paranoid much?”

He scoffed, but she cut him off before he could retort.

“I moved out.”

Immediately, his eyebrows shot up in surprise. “You did?”

She nodded. “Yeah. About two weeks ago. Wasn’t exactly seamless, and I bet my dad will disconnect my old line at some point. I’ve been staying at Lane’s with her and the band. They don’t have a phone yet. And you change your number pretty much every week, so it’s not like I could let you know.”

A smile crossed his features. “I’m...that’s great, Eleanor.”

She snorted a laugh of disbelief. “Yeah, it’s so great living out of my car and sleeping on Lane’s forty-year-old couch.”

Jess shrugged. “Gotta start somewhere.”

“I guess.”

He looked flabbergasted. “I’m so proud of you.”

A blush heated her cheeks and she chuckled breathily in confusion. “What?”

“For moving out. I mean, I can’t imagine it was a quiet affair,” he said, face falling slightly.

Again, she shook her head, glancing down at the space between them on the comforter and clutching her necklace. “No. It wasn’t.”

“What happened?” he ventured without hesitation, searching her face and exposed arms for any yellowed bruises or healing cuts. Sometimes, he could give even Ella a run for her money when assuming the worst.

Ella shrugged noncommittally, throwing a glance down at her watch, then facing him again with a small smile. “Long story. I’ve only got a couple minutes left on break. You gonna be in town for a little while?”

“Until the minute the wedding ends.”

“Okay, we’ll find some time to catch up,” she said, smirking. “Luke tells me you’re a drug dealer now. You’ve gotta let me in on all your behind-the-scenes Scarface facts.”

Jess rolled his eyes. “God, Luke is such a drama queen. I’m a messenger.”

“Nice cover. Very convincing.”

“Don’t you have coffee to pour?” he shot back, defensive.

Snickering, Ella rose from the bed, smoothing down her skirt and apron. “Whatever keeps the guilt at bay, tough guy.”

“G’bye,” he muttered, grumpy, as he settled back against the wall and picked up his book again. But, just before Ella reached the door: “What time are you off, Eleanor?”

“Six-thirty. Luke’s closing up early to play wedding planner,” she said, hand poised over the doorknob.

Jess chuckled. “Pizza at Antonioli’s tonight?”

“Sure. I even promise not to wear a wire.”

The pillow Jess had thrown barely missed her as she exited the apartment, laughing under her breath.

. . .

Sighing softly, Ella ran the key along the chain of her necklace and looked down at the half-eaten pizza crusts on her paper plate. The old wooden table in the pizza place was slightly sticky, and carved with the names of various people and couples who had shared a pie there before. But, they could watch the Stars Hollow evening turn from golden to blue as the sun went down, sitting by the front window. Jess had to leave by eight, and it was half past seven by the time the stars came out. Summer had almost come, and the days were long and bright with sunshine. Chilly breezes swept past at night, but it was getting warmer still.

“So...yeah. It only took me about forty-five minutes to pack everything up. Didn’t realize how little stuff I had until I could fit almost everything in my trunk and back seat,” she said, a small, humorless smile on her face.

Jess nodded, rolling a balled-up napkin absently in his hand as he listened, his face stony. “Was it just yelling? Or did he hit you?”

Breathing another long sigh through her nose, Ella bit the inside of her cheek. “Just once. He just slapped me once. He told me not to swear at him, but I-”

“Eleanor,” he interjected, voice firm but gentle. “Once is way too much. Even a slap. It’s way, way too many times.”

She only shrugged. “I know. I mean, of course I know that. It’s just…”

Again, he nodded wordlessly. Jess knew what it was like to have a parent, or a step-parent, who used hurt as a tool. And he knew the confusion. Sometimes monsters wore masks. She didn’t have to say anything more.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly.

Ella shook her head. “It’s not your fault. And I’m moved out now, Jess.”

“Right...and I meant what I said. I’m so proud of you, Stevens.” Jess reached hesitantly across the table, and took her free hand in his. Gave it one squeeze.

She flashed him a tiny smile, squeezed it back. Then she disentangled their fingers and tucked her hair behind her ears, clearing her throat and straightening her back. The severity left her features, a new, mischievous twinkle lighting up her hazel eyes. Her chest was less heavy, and she was glad he knew. Glad he could understand with so few words.

“Proud of you too, Mariano. This time, I didn’t have to watch you step out of a sheriff’s car when you got to town,” she smirked, picking up one of the crusts and taking another bite out of it.

He frowned. “Ugh, please don’t mention Andy Griffith. That car is my property. The only reason I even called Luke after I got to Venice was to ask about the car and he-”

Still chuckling, Ella raised her hands in surrender, cutting him off. “White flag.”

Jess offered a sardonic, lop-sided smirk. “And, believe or not, Luke will be the sanest person at the bachelor party tonight.”

“Why are you even going?” she asked, brows furrowed as she took a sip of her water, ice melty from time and the May heat seeping through the splintered wood of the front door.

Shaking his head, Jess glanced down at his watch and noticed he had only ten minutes before he and Luke would have to hop in Luke’s ancient green truck. “I don’t know. Luke mentioned me not wanting to go to Liz, and then she spent thirty minutes babbling until she finally wore me down.”

Pursing her lips, Ella nodded. “Yeah, she’s very persuasive.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re looking at the flower girl,” she admitted, gesturing to herself.

He laughed breathily. “No way.”

“Yep. I’ll be there in the renaissance dress and all. Though, Lorelai said she would make some alterations for me. I’m going over to her house in a little while to sort out the whole corset situation.”

Jess snorted another chuckle. “Good luck.”

“Right back at ya, Mariano,” she teased. “Where on earth would TJ want to go for his bachelor party?”

“It’s a cliché I’m sure you’ll be able to guess on the first try,” Jess said with a dejected frown.

After only a moment with brows furrowed, realization flashed across Ella’s eyes and her expression turned to one of disgust. “Ugh, Jesus. A strip club?”

“I know,” he grumbled. “Believe me, I’ll be there in silent protest.”

“Mouth off to one of the owners if you get the chance, would you? For me?” she asked.

“Will do.”

. . .

“I don’t hate my mother,” Jess grumbled to Luke, rolling his eyes slightly.

He ran a hand through his messy hair, crossing his leather-clad arms. Maybe he should’ve known he would get into a fight with TJ at some point, considering his history with Liz’s past boyfriends and husbands. All it had taken was TJ hitting the Austen novel out of his hands, as he read begrudgingly in the low-lit strip club. And they’d come to blows. And Luke was pissed. They were sat down at a table in Luke’s, the diner completely dark glowing only from the streetlamps and twinkle lights in the square. All the chairs, save for the two they sat in, were stacked up on the red tables. Luke was interrogating Jess about why he’d come for the wedding anyway, if he was so mad about it. As if he hadn’t stormed into Jess’s apartment trying to convince him to come only a few days earlier.

“You don’t?” Luke asked, eyebrows raised in expectation. “Then why did you come, anyway, if you’re so against your mother finding happiness? And it’s pretty clear you hate me.”

Jess sighed heavily at Luke’s dramatics. “I don’t hate you. I came here because of you.”

“Stop that,” Luke scolded in disbelief.

“You said it was important to you. Remember?” Jess asked, voice tight with annoyance.

“I didn’t think you were listening.”

“Oh, I was listening.”

Luke stared at his nephew for a long moment, leaning back in his chair. “So, you don’t hate your mom. You don’t hate me. But, really, all it took was me coming to New York to yell at you?”

Sighing, Jess said nothing. His lips were set in a thin line, and he averted his gaze from his uncle. He ran a hand over his mouth.

Eyes widening, Luke cracked a knowing grin. “You came because of Ella? But, you haven’t been together in...what? A year?”

Jess gave a sheepish nod. “Yeah, but, we still talk every couple weeks. She didn’t tell you?”

Luke snorted. “Well, I remember her chewing you out that first time you called. Telling you to let her know you were alive. But I didn’t know you were really talking.”

Running a hand over his mouth again, Jess gave another nod.

“So?” Luke asked, prodding. “Why’d you need to come here...if you call so often anyway?”

Jess bit at his bottom lip, squirming under the questions. “Since she moved out, she hasn’t been picking up. I didn’t know what happened. I wanted to...make sure. Because…”

“What?”

“I think...I mean...I’m in love with her, alright?” Jess spit out, an anxious bite in his voice.

Luke’s eyebrows shot up, and a flabbergasted look formed on his face. “Wow!...You think you’re in love with her?”

Jess shrugged. “Pretty sure. But, I’ve been thinking that since I was seventeen. And she doesn’t believe in love, anyway.”

Scoffing, Luke shook his head. “I know she says that, but it’s crap. What do you love about her, Jess?”

“Excuse me?” Jess asked, brows furrowing.

Luke rolled his eyes in exasperation. “Jess, I think it’s great that you know how you feel. And like I said earlier, I’m not gonna keep trying to change you. You are who you are. And Ella is who she is. If you’re gonna tell her how you feel, you have to do it carefully. And you have to be sure. So, tell me what you love about her.”

Scowling, Jess looked long and hard at his uncle. “What, do you wanna hold hands and skip afterwards?”

“Do you want to do this right or not?”

Finally, Jess relented. “Okay. Fine. I love that she...she’s so passionate. About everything. And she talks with her hands. And she eats peanut butter right out of the jar when she’s sick. And she hums while she works, without even realizing it. She..she cares so much about her friends and her brothers and her aunt and...I don’t know. She does everything for other people. She doesn’t think she’s a people person. But she really is. Even the way she talks to customers...you can really see it.

“And she’s such an amazing artist. She can feel art. And music. I’ve never met anyone else like that before. I can talk to her for hours...or not say anything at all. I miss her when she’s gone. Everything is...just better when I’m with her.”

When Jess looked up again, he found his uncle with a smug smirk. As Jess was speaking, his eyes had taken on a far-off quality. And though he didn’t want to be talking, his lips had started to curl upward at the corners anyway. Just from thinking of her. Luke recognized everything in Jess’s expression.

Jess shook his head slightly, jaw tense, embarrassment swirling in his stomach. “What?”

“Nothing,” Luke said lightly, almost mocking. “I’ve just...never seen that look on your face before.”

Rolling his eyes again, Jess scoffed angrily.

“Alright, alright,” Luke said, fighting off good-natured laughter. “Open two-way communication is the foundation of love…”

#jess mariano fanfiction #jess mariano au #jess mariano imagines #jess mariano #jess #mariano #gilmore girls fanfiction #gilmore girls au #gilmore girls imagines #gilmore girls imagine #gilmore girls #luke danes #lane kim #lorelai gilmore

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warmbeebosoftbeebo · 4 years ago

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/PAVLOVEWHORE/status/1315759891668242433?s=20 on twitter

oh her (she also thinks b is grooming kids because his music is appealing to them, the puppet, etc, and thinks grooming means... culture appealing to kids and younger adults? when it means a significantly/much older person building a relationship with a kid, introducing them inappropriately to sex eg porn, pornographic phallocentric sexuality, in order to sexually abuse/exploit them. so she may be suggesting that b’s doing it so he can have more kids to abuse a la the anon accusations). if you (general you, not the anon specifically) read ronan farrow’s catch and kill you know rich men protect themselves by doing crazy shit (spying, ndas, trashing accusers, blackballing women who rejected them or spoke out about sexual assault, catching and killing accusations) and this new accusation is in that same boat of crazy shit... but a non-plausible crazy shit.

why would someone rich (unless this was happening vices era and before, when b and sarah were far from rich) bribe FANS to have accounts online smack talking breezy, dallon, accusers, etc. if so, they’re doing a terrible job, because there is so much shit being said about b, and now sarah, it’s unreal. (with zack, there are both substantiated and unsubstantiated, anonymous claims. i find some of the later claims plausible. he’s being taken far less out of context than b is. i don’t think he’s absolutely evil, but he’s clearly sexually harassed breezy, has been sexist/misogynist on his twitter, etc. i’ve talked about this more my tag for him.) i’ve come across comments on twitter, instagram, etc where two to none of the claims made about him are true the rest are... idk where most of this bullshit comes from. i’m tempted to do a debunker side blog here (eg the plausible, implausible, true, definitely false, etc). the rumor mill is really something. especially in the age of social media online.

i don’t think sarah and zack would do this. as we have seen over this summer fangirls (and boys) turn on their idols like WHOA. gives one whiplash just looking at it. it would be profoundly STUPID and shortsighted to use fans, because today’s fan is often tomorrow’s basher. fans also have no... loyalty in a sense to their celeb (eg it’s not like a religion, political belief system, country even), no job on the line, no contract, no lawsuit worries... all it would take for this to come out if it were true is someone within that circle of fans getting bribes to smack talk breezy to turn on sarah and/or zack and blab to others, show screenshots, etc. it could NEVER be private very long. even not turning per se, but just realizing it was wrong and sharing the convos, etc they had with them publicly. fans also LOVE talking about and showing the contact we have with our chosen celebs and celeb adjacent people, posting about it publicly. seriously, it is so foolish to try to have private GROUP convos where people bribe TEENAGERS and 20somethings with merch, tickets, photo ops, private photos of b, etc both on the levels of the youth and frequent fickleness of fans (how many leave an artist/show/fandom/franchise/etc after months, a year, a few years...), plus the outrage culture/cancel culture going on where some of the outraged are former fans, etc.

even employees who agree to spy, hack, create fake personas online and in person, etc can turn on their employer, but someone who’s just there as a fan? there is literally not just no guarantee it won’t be found out, it probably fucking will. and quickly at that. the question is more when than if.

this situation, if it did happen, is also plausibly someone pretending to be sarah and/or zack and catfishing fans. chelsey was mentioned, and frankly... this is in her wheelhouse. she has extensively impersonated b and others online, for a few years. she has also hacked accounts and gotten photos/video of b that were supposed to be not public. and another important question, did these freebies eg ticket upgrades, photo ops with b, materialize? or did they not happen? the fact that some girls can be seen on the tour vids doesn’t prove they got them as a quid pro quo in exchange for slandering others and defending b online at all. (btw, the fact that there are chelsey defenders absolutely ASTONISHES me. wtf. there’s a lot we don’t know with breezy, b, etc so i can see to some extent people based on part of the picture, siding with “one side” and deriding the other, but with her? how? what?)

i know this is a crazy fucking idea on twitter for sure, and probably elsewhere online, but one (like me) can like both breezy & dallon AND brendon & sarah. fucking deranged, isn’t it, in this polarized fandom/these fandoms. b is getting the worst of it, but breezy is getting a lot of shit too. and i feel sorry for both of them in particular. again, the rumor mill: assertions of fact without evidence, even people coming forward with their names/faces, being spread around like wildfire and taken as confirmed, undoubtedly true fact eg the claim that breezy said that b knew about all the sexual harassments by zack of her the whole time (eg how could he have? eg how would he know what zack texts her? he obviously would have known some of it but those likely seemed in line with the joking around they did, would be my guess. i also think his anxiety and trying to fit in can come into play. he may have been a bystander to things zack did that crossed lines eg with breezy, idk. speaking of speculation, here’s me doing it. i also don’t think b did nothing wrong, and i’ve also talked about various things when i’ve come across them that i’ve had a problem with.

there’s also aspects going on that i want to delve into, but i’m debating eg that one young male fan who’s apparently friendly with breezy and dallon now but used to be obsessed with b (including making sexual comments to him on twitter, wanting to look like him) and is claiming zack took advantage of him (jobwise). seems to be a history of mental instability there and a serious lack of boundaries. it’s not about monstering him; i feel bad for him.

edit to add i’m still reading things on twitter, what i can find anyway, and another thing i’m ambiguous about discussing is breezy’s dms with others because ppl are posting screenshots. obv there’s more to read there too. in one she thought zack was doing the getting fans to target her and dallon thing in exchange for perks eg meet n greets. the closest she’s gotten to saying anything bad about b was saying he wasn’t always sweet (didn’t say if it was to her and/or dallon) and that she thinks he could have changed, that i’ve seen posted anyway.

also, there’s posts ppl are screenshotting of breezy from years ago to say how gross or disgusting or whatever she is and i’m just like “she’s so saucy, i love her.” it’s mostly pg level stuff too, and mostly about dallon, or brallon. like i said before, notice how what damns breezy (being sexual) excuses zack to many people. at most he’s an “old school roadie” who might have an apology to make, they dunno, but not really, people are so sensitive and breezy is a bitch who is to blame for everything. (seriously, there’s people who think she started it all eg the firezackhall tag, and somehow the accusations against b too. fuck outta here.)

#abuse allegations #speakupbrendonurie #zack hall #brendon urie #sarah orzechowski #sarah urie #chelsey #breezy

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prongsmydeer · 5 years ago

Text

Ayesha Liveblogs Tiger King

“I think it would be fair to say that Carole is the Mother Teresa of cats” now there’s a sentence I never thought I’d hear

“I’d never been a person who had friends” statements like this always perplex me because surely there had to be ONE other person in however long you quantify childhood that you identified with. Like not one whole ass person? You’re not the only person who loves cats Carole

The juxtaposition between Carole Baskin’s “Animal Print for Animal Rights” and Joe Exotic’s “Tiger King underwear is our bestseller” is poetic cinema

Okay this isn’t a reflection of my opinions on this man but I Saw a Tiger is a good country ballad there I said it

“When I first met Joe, I was like a month out of high school” well that’s not good

[Joe Exotic voice] Some people have tigers to cope

Doc Antle has only been on screen for 30 seconds and already he has made himself memorable by directing the film crew

Is Bhagavan Antle Indian in some way or did he just have a really intense Eat Pray Love journey with his guru

Also is he really a doctor orrrrrrrrr

“I am out there in the forefront so known of being this guy that is in love with big cats and has them love him back” please don’t tell me this guy does anything weird to his animals

“People only care about saving what affects them”

“You can’t put a price on holding a baby tiger” but you did and apparently it’s $625

The fact that multiple tigers have had albinism is probably a sign of major inbreeding practices at these zoos

You know, even if I ate meat*, there is no way I would be able to handle any kind of early prep stage of it bc seeing these cow carcasses is A Lot

*If u r reading this I don’t care if u eat meat leave me alone

“Animals just wasn’t enough, okay? So then I started adding magic” well that took an unexpected turn

I don’t know if it’s for real fair to criticize every person who has brought a big cat out in a public venue/talk show because I know at least like Dave Sal/moni is always going “THESE ANIMALS MAKE TERRIBLE PETS”

As a sidenote from what I understand this Saff person keeps being deadnamed/misgendered throughout this documentary and I do not appreciate it

“I grew up a professional cowboy in a family of professional cowboys” every sentence on this show is a journey

WHO is letting their ONE-YEAR-OLD lay on top of a tiger cub I know you’re at a zoo but BRUH

“It’s going to be a small Waco” to say this ON THE NEWS

This 2 minute stretch of episode is all the PSA anyone ever needs to never own a gun

Well I think we can all agree that PETA is a fucking mess

God this is like battle of the people who are terrible at doing anything good for animals

“What do you carry that gun for?” “People” AHHHHHHHHHHH?!?!!!!?!?

“I sleep with an AK-47 under my mattress, loaded, ready to roll” WILL SOMEONE HELP THE U.S. OF A

I was warned about this show and yet I was still not prepared for the level of UNHINGED it would be

How in the FUCK does a place like this not have an on-site medic

“Why don’t you come back on another day” he said, after telling the public an employee had his arm taken off

“I am never gonna financially recover from this” SURE JOE THIS IS ABOUT YOU

To go back to work a WEEK after getting your arm amputated... BRUH

“Any law that you think’s unfair or unjustice, it is your obligation, it is your responsibility to stand up against that bullshit law” well Thomas Jefferson was a slaveowner so clearly the injustice thing was relative for him

Traditionally don’t drug addictions fuel people choosing extreme paths with their life rather than the other way around?

JKHGKJHGKJH this whole exchange:

Interviewer: What kind of doctor is he?

Maria: Mystical science.

Interviewer: Mystical science?

Maria, nodding: Yeah.

“How many wives does Doc Antle have?” I didn’t expect this but somehow it tracks

I’m gonna bet none of these people with subcontinental names have a single bit of South Asian heritage like okay “Moksha” and “Rajnee” did Bhagavan name you

On a more serious note: It’s really fucked up that these men keep meeting literal teenagers, making them their employees, and then also get into relationships with them. I cannot emphasize this strongly enough THIS IS NOT GOOD OR HEALTHY

It’s pretty weird that Doc Antle keeps emphasizing so frequently that one of his partners is Italian

“I’m gonna go be a yoga animal trainer” ah, white people bullshit

“Goodbye. Don’t fall in love with your boss.” Good advice, Dad

I was not expecting all this subcontinental imagery to get under my skin this badly but what’s your problem dude can’t u be normal for like a second

“You’re this garbage person, but if you listen to me, I’ll make you great” again this tracks but gross

Again, on a more serious note: if a partner ever talks to you this way please call a domestic abuse hotline

Not that India is at all in a good place right now but I personally ban Doc Antle from ever entering India. Banned. Forever. I will not be accepting constructive criticism at this time

“I didn’t really know any better” is a really good way of summarizing what all of these younger partners have been through

Wow Carole is really explaining this abuse issue succinctly

Antle’s indignation at being implied to be a cult leader despite the fact he is most definitely a cult leader

Joe’s story in his documentary is constantly “is this going to be a humanizing moment PSYCH it’s still terrible”

HOW IS THIS LEGAL PAY YOUR WORKERS A LIVING WAGE

Why is this husband-killing thing JUST A FOOTNOTE AT THE END OF THIS EPISODE OH MY GOD

We have deviated so far from the tiger thing oh my god

Why is the only man in this documentary who is faithful to his spouse the man that smuggled drugs inside of snakes

Every time I learn a new thing about a person in this documentary I have to reorient myself

This whole episode has been about this murder and I’m concerned that its title, “The Secret,” hasn’t even been revealed yet

GOD I take back what I said about I Saw Tiger, the concept of this song/music video for Here Kitty Kitty is so disturbing that this man deserves no credit whatsoever as a musician

CAROLE WHY ARE YOU GIGGLING ABOUT THE MEAT GRINDER IT’S NOT FUNNY

Well I don’t have much to say about this episode other than yikes

I guess if you’re really out to spite someone stealing their brand and posting exactly the opposite of everything they stand for is an effective if weird and petty way to do it

Do you think the whole throne footage moment was a “Frankenstein realizing what he has wrought” kind of thing for Kirkham

This is really like watching a sports game of two teams you can’t stand except the sport is murder and other miscellaneous crime

If we’re all being real with ourselves the documentary filmmakers themselves MUST have had some issues going on to be able to walk into this situation and not do anything about it

This series really seems to present a compelling case for why every major figure in this documentary has potentially committed at least one terrible crime

Ah there’s the judgment from the woman in Florida I guess it’s two crimes with one stone

God these poor animals they do not deserve anything happening to them

While obviously people are enticed by the prospect of someone they’re into having an animal JUST GET AN ALREADY DOMESTICATED ANIMAL LIKE DOMESTICATED CATS AND DOGS EXIST OH MY GOD DO NOT USE EXOTIC PETS AS DATE BAIT

It has been so long since we heard about Travis ngl I already forgot about him

Why is every single person in this show SO OFF THE WALLS I mean I know why but also WHY

This documentary is also a treatise in the flaws of the U.S. prison system and how it sets up people up to fail or re-offend upon release

Take a shot every time a middle-aged man in this show mentions that he casually bought himself a big cat as a teen

“Joe was the entertainment director.... by title” I don’t think this was meant to be a burn but what a burn

I am almost certain I WATCHED that Last Week Tonight episode during that election and if u told me that 4-5 years later I would be rewatching that clip in a documentary about this man’s journey to being convicted for murder then I cannot say I wouldn’t be surprised but I would probably believe it

Also I have to wonder what John Oliver thinks about being part of this

[“Beyonce?” voice] Shaun Majumder?

Sidenote: Until this exact moment I thought of Shaun Majumder as Ben Mulroney even though Brian Mulroney is white as hell I guess I have faceblindness but only for Canadian talkshow personalities

I have been aware of this before now but the fact you can buy a GUN at a Walmart what in the FUCK is U.S.A. doing

Man does this campaign manager really want to take ownership of anything Joe Exotic has ever done

Ngl I was wondering why someone who had at one point clearly had a lot of money seemed to have such poor dental care access but meth certainly does explain it

I mean people can be attracted to both men and women (hello) but since Joe was fuelling their drug addictions since they were teenagers attraction is at best a null factor and at worst an added layer of terrible to this whole mess

It’s hard to even respond to this in a meaningful way because this is so fucked up. Don’t own guns.

“That was a big fucking mistake,” he said, right after someone explained that he was driving large groups of people in an enclosed space in a busy city with wild animals that could maim or kill them

Padlock penls piercing really does not seem like a first date bombshell

“We went to dinner and he never went home” well if that doesn’t set you with a sense of foreboding

TWO MONTHS AFTER WHAT IN THE HELL OH MY GOD also I hope Dillon is okay

“It wasn’t about the animals anymore” you THINK

“It was sort of funny when they started but it’s gotten really dark” how meta

Of all the reasons Joe could’ve abandoned his zoo, I really didn’t think embezzlement would be what pushed him

“He won’t tell anyone where he’s at, not even me,” said Dial, with no acknowledgement of the fact that Joe is also theoretically still married and would maybe tell his husband???

Oh Dillon spotted??? Yikes get out dude

Take a shot every time a white person who really doesn’t understand where the word “karma” comes from starts talking about karma as if it is the Law of Revenge

The fact this man brings a film crew out with him while he’s on the run evading a federal investigation..... incomprehensible

“Joe just wanted to put it in somebody’s name and continue to be the tiger queen, I mean king,” really REALLY of all the reasons to object to Joe you’re going to choose homophobia wow

Is this about an attempt to have someone murdered or does something happen to Baskin it is very unclear

This documentary has an interesting format of switching focus from crime to crime to crime

“I’ve never been as proud of being married to anyone as I am being married to you” It’s weird to compliment your husband by comparing him to all your other husbands

How is the lesson for Jeff Lowe in this “let’s build another zoo” surely at that point it’s better to just cut your losses

[Garretson voice]: You should pay me for being a bro, dude

“I’m a libertarian, so technically, fuck the Feds,” I’ve never heard an intonation that better suits a conservative millennial

I mean I don’t think it was advisable but honestly why are people surprised Joe took the stand isn’t delusions of grandeur kind of his thing

Sometimes it’s just that they’ve added in other moments to break up the awful immoral crimes with just run of the mill douchebaggery like the nanny/gym thing huh

I guess the silver lining in this is that potentially these big cat zoos will shut down but like where do these animals who have been raised in captivity go??? I don’t trust anyone in this documentary to not exploit them in some way ugh

“Not a single animal benefited from this war,” correct, Saff

“I was wrapped up in having a zoo,” not really an excuse but ok

#tw: literally everything #ayesha says things #ayesha liveblogs tiger king #long post #u ever quarantine so hard u watch an entire docuseries in a night #no but seriously it would be hard to warn for everything but proceed with caution #liveblogging

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