#combined with tw homophobic abuse

[lime-peaches666]

they took my tags away

"sex scenes have no narrative purpose" is such a funny take on so many levels. people will really believe that the whole human experience is valuable to portray artistically except sex, which of course has never held emotional weight or significance for anybody

[theoi-crow]

TW: religious trauma, threat mention, weapons mention, child neglect, homophobia, abuse, coercion and religious PTSD.

Why fearing a deity keeps me from developing a genuine relationship with that same deity.

I grew up Catholic and one of the first things my mother taught me was the concept of Heaven and Hell. Essentially after death one gets judged based on the actions they took while they were still living and is either rewarded with heaven or punished with hell. It was a simple concept to understand but it brought up a question that ultimately made me leave the religion.

Do I genuinely love God or am I afraid of his wrath? (Like a held hostage who is coerced into choosing options that won't upset my captor out of fear of his retaliation)

Even the reward of eternal bliss felt like it was designed to lessen the threat of eternal damnation as a consolation prize for all those years of panic attacks and anxiety over the thought of being sent to Hell. I always hoped for a third milder option that allowed me the freedom to develop a genuine relationship with God without said god having to rely on coercion. I wanted to experience an honest relationship without a weapon pressed against my back in case I made the wrong move or asked the wrong question.

Due to this looming threat, the relationship I had with God felt transactional and lacked genuine affection because I knew God's love for me was conditional and depended on me following arbitrary rules from a book written by a lot of different people (each author having their own agenda different from the rest so they were constantly contradicting each other because the different entries were written in different time periods and places with vastly different political movements specific to their locations and situations but were combined together, like a mass Tumblr post with over 50 blogs that don't all agree on what the rules should be).

The many rules always made me feel like Alice playing a game with the Queen of Hearts with rules that were unclear and no one was interested in explaining them to me until I did something they didn't like and were able to find something in the book that condemned me for it.

Having to adhere to these rules in order for me to be rewarded and not punished felt like a relationship between a gay child and homophobic parents that expected said child to act a certain way. If that child obeyed, they were rewarded with affection and approval, but if said child didn't, they were kicked out and forced to fend for themselves against a world that wasn't built to protect and help gay children. Being Christian felt like I had a leash around my neck being held by an entity that constantly told me he loved me, so long as I did what I was told.

I didn't think it was possible to love a deity without fearing them until I met my gods.

According to the ancient Greeks: Once a human dies they go to Hades. Unless they make some kind of undeniable mark in the world everyone goes to Hades.

If you were a famous and exceptional human that changed the world in a positive way you'd go to Elysium but you purposefully had to do something so extraordinary your legacy and name became well known because according to the Elysium wiki, in the beginning "only mortals related to the gods and other heroes could be admitted past the river Styx. Later, the conception of who could enter was expanded to include those chosen by the gods, the righteous, and the heroic." (LINK) The ancient Greeks believed the gods were in charge of giving people fame because those who were famous were often related to the gods (for example: people believed Pythagoras (the one that the Pythagorean theorem is named after) was either the son of Apollo, or Apollo himself: (LINK)

Tartarus is strictly for gods and humans can't go there but the worst humans are still punished by Hades as shown in the myths of Sisyphus (LINK) and Tantalus (LINK) but you have to royally eff up. You have to do it on purpose like enacting laws that target vulnerable people (both Sisyphus and Tantalus were kings and politically involved) or commiting mass genocide as examples of the severity I'm talking about. These are crimes against humanity you cannot accidentally do, they involve terrible deeds that are premeditated with the intent of destroying the lives of innocent people.

But if my main problem is the concept of Heaven/Hell, why am I bringing up Elysium, Hades and Tartarus, concepts that influenced how Heaven and Hell work? (LINK)

Because unless you choose to dedicate your life, time and energy and become famous for making an undeniable mark in history (an effort that isn't just you doing normal good deeds or making mistakes you later regret but actually dedicating your life and becoming well known for your efforts like activist Greta Thunberg, or purposefully hurting innocent people like serial killer Ted Bundy) everyone else goes to Hades and I love that because when I work with my gods I may not get automatic access to Elysium but there is no threat of eternal punishment either.

Which means I interact with my gods because I want to!

Not because I'll be rewarded or punished but because I want to interact with them and develop a genuine connection with them! There's no condition of me needing to convert others, in fact I don't even have to tell people I believe in them! (the gods understand the world can be a dangerous place for their followers due to the many religious wars and religious politicians in power).

I'm not required to talk about them! I'm not even required to keep this blog but I do it because I genuinely love them and I love talking about them! I've even changed majors mid semester in order to dedicate my life to learning about them. I'm studying to become an archeologist who specializes in the ancient Greek religion in order to make that information more accessible to Hellenic Polytheists and anyone else interested in the gods. I don't do it so the gods will reward me because I don't need them to, they will be just as happy if I delete this blog, quit my career and go about my day living my life. I do it because I love learning about the gods and I want to share the information I learned in case it helps those that are interested learn more about their gods too!

I've even made it my mission on Tumblr to share what I've learned about the gods to hopefully help others connect with their gods more easily especially for those who are having trouble connecting with them. And this was all unprompted. The gods literally had nothing to do with this. It was my own choice because there is a specific god I sometimes have trouble connecting with due to varying factors and it makes me feel awful when I can't connect with him, especially when I need his guidance the most so I want to help others avoid experiencing that feeling by letting them know they're not alone and helping them figure out what's blocking their connection because it can be a miserable experience.

My favorite part about a lack of reward and punishment is having the confidence to say I seek the gods because I want to seek the gods.

I walk with the gods because I want to walk with the gods. This is my will, my choice, and mine alone. No one is forcing me to do it and there isn't some big prize at the end if I do, I can stop anytime I want and nothing will happen. I have made an independent choice to seek the gods, meet them and got to know them and I can genuinely say I love them more than I ever thought was possible. I do.

I love my gods.

[woomycritiques543]

TW: Mentions of Proship, Homophobia, "Cringe" Culture, Racism and Gay Stereotypes.

Just watched the new episode and... holy shit, that was foul!

It was terribly boring, was just used to show how "GOOD OF A PAL!" Blitz was despite the other episodes being canon and- The way homophobia was shown? OH GOD that was awful! Not because it was depicting homophobia or bad parents of gay people, especially as someone who's expericed homophobia in my own family, depicting homophobia as a "bad thing" is good and all-

BUT THIS!? WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS???!

It looks like what a homophobe would draw in the #alt-right section of Twitter! This, the dildos, the man tied up and being forced to marry another gay men who's the "predator" of the group, his homophobic father being "proven right" by how predatory all the gay men he meets are. Again- look at this image and try to tell me directly that "ITS NOT INTERNALIZED HOMOPHOBIA!" Because you cant, you literally fucking cant. This scene, along with most of the mlm rep of Hazbin and Helluva Boss is that fucking (unintentionally) homophobic with how it portays it's messages.

This entire scene, and all the dildo scenes and moments of Chaz just being "the creepy gay!" stereotype from the 90s felt awful to watch... a gay man, in a show with only mainly gay men who are sex predators being forced to marry a another man so the "OH SO HEALTHY FOR HIM AND ROMANTIC WOMAN" can save him from "the big scawy sex filled mlm!" and is shown as the hero despite letting him be abused and sexually harassed by his boss. This scene directly- directly made me feel insulted as someone who's bisexual. It felt like I was having "LOL UR HOMOSEX SO UR MOSTLY IN IT FOR THE SEX!" shoved in my face like the homophobes did back in fucking elementary school. It felt like I was being bullied as a gay person just by looking at it. Especially knowing of just how many biphobes are going to see this terrible episode and point to their freinds and be like "SEE? SEE?! ITS BETTER FOR BISEXUALS TO BE WITH A WOMAN MLM (OR WLW in the pilot so far) BISEXUALS BAAAAAAAD BECAUSE MEN WHO ARE WITH MEN END UP BEING PREDATORS MEN WITH WAMAN IS BETTER BECAUSE GIRLS TAME MEN LMAO!" and use it as proof of how "bad!" the mlm bisexuals are.

This is actually one of the worst scenes in the entire series.

This entire scerario, Moxxie's father only being proven "right" because ALL THE GAY MEN IN THIS SHOW ARE SHOWN TO BE "sexual degenerates" and are only "understandable people with morality" if they're with a woman while wlw is only shown as eyecandy. It's either men who are gay are seen as a "fetish" or "predatory abusers" or the women who like mostly or specifically girls are seen as "eyecandy" for the mostly male audience and as a result is validating the homophobes, racists, and ableists in her audience further. So its actually doing the opposite of what was intended for this franchise. It's validating homophobes, not challenging their mindsets to have it's cake and eat it too. They could have easily forced Moxxie to marry a woman (y'know, to show that straight fathers doing this is wrong?! A message we need in this current era of this still happening so much?!) to show how extreme homophobes are and how they see being gay as a "insult to being a man!" but instead they have him surround the marriage with dildos and force him to marry a gay man who's interpreted here as a "sex predator who wont give up his Moksie!" and all.

The fact that they made Chaz a literal 90s stereotype of a gay man here, most gay men in the show being depicted as "predatory" combined with the visuals of dildos everywhere and the only mlm marraige in the show being a forced one-

WHAT THE FUCK KIND OF MESSAGE IS THIS?!

Its no wonder so many fans who defend this show say the word "f^^got!" and "r^tard!" as a insult. This show validates people like that, constantly! Both Hazbin Hotel and Helluva Boss are used as "evidence" that we are "sex predators!" or that people with autism are "stupid butt monkeys who are slow and wont amount to much! So at the end of the day- no matter how much Helluva Boss fans claim that this show is "really helping the community" (in which if you like the rep, good for you, but the mass amounts of stereotyping doesnt it make it any less damaging for us all as a whole, the facts are the facts, showing homophobia and gay men this way gives homophobes more validation!) there will always be thousands of fans like this (TW: If you find this thread dont go too far there's literal Octavia ^^^^^ in it) fans like this because of how the show presents both lgbtq+, black people, and people with disablities:

If the show had good representation, there wouldn't be thousands upon thousands of the fans in websites like 4chan or K^wifarms. It's really that simple... if not extremely sad. AKA: Helluva Boss Season Two Episode Three is validating literal homophobes, racists, and transphobes. It's doing the complete opposite of what was intended and literally is giving homophobes a safe space. Jesus Christ! Also, Vivziepop likes South Park, a show full of transgender stereotypes and homophobia and is only "progressive" to cover up how awful it is.

So that explains how the episode came out this way.

Also, summary of the South Park Scene: Cringe Culture, same for the scene in HB mocking gay men who like furries, ironically, despite being a show that revolves around furries, just because it was porn that revolved around bronies (how cringe! somehow...) and not furry wolves because "ponies too gay lmao!" apparently. Also, they had the narrative react by having people throw up by seeing it. This entire episode was god awful. Season Two as a whole is god awful...

[applechip118]

all the mr:tm lore i have so far

i thought i should start posting about my ocs! the story is called Melanie Richards: Teenage Mercenary (probably not my idea lmao). i don’t have any official refs yet but here’s the official lore thus far!

TW for abuse, neglect, mental illness, murder, homophobia/transphobia, bullying, toxic yuri ❤️ , violence/body horror (like FNAF)

Melanie Charlotte Richards (Maurycja Celina Rodowicz) is a 13-year-old Polish-American girl who lives in San Diego in the early 2010s. She comes from a poor, abusive family, living with her mother and stepfather (her father passed away in the 2000s).

She’s the classic middle school weeaboo, obsessed with manga and J-pop. Don’t mention yaoi around her, she’ll start foaming at the mouth (not because she finds yaoi boys attractive though—she’s a lesbian in denial, but if you told her that she’d kill you on the spot).

She is autistic and has ADHD, BPD, OCD and likely PTSD, and because of this asks her parents for therapy but is denied because she’s “old enough to earn it for herself” (since her family can’t afford it). She’s forced to become a hitman in secret, going around killing middle-aged businessmen for other middle-aged businessmen with an old cricket bat. She’s terrible at being subtle so her parents likely have an idea something’s going on, but don’t care.

Andrea Claudia Campbell is a 13-year-old Jamaican and Native Hawaiian girl who also lives in San Diego, and goes to the same middle school as Melanie. She has a mom, dad and two younger brothers (11 and 8 years old). She is autistic and has ADHD, and her family is a little better off than Melanie’s.

Andrea is an absolute LOSER. NOBODY likes her!! She’s the bi, probably nonbinary Deviantart wolf furry kid, who dresses scenemo and probably posts edgy edits of herself to Facebook. She and Melanie quickly become best friends through their eighth grade art class, since they’re both unpopular and get bullied often.

Andrea’s home life is arguably better than Melanie’s (Melanie’s parents are emotionally abusive and neglectful, as well as bigoted traditional Christians. Andrea’s parents are less volatile, but still bigoted, especially homophobic/transphobic). Andrea’s parents end up finding her gay stuff on her laptop, and in a panic Andrea runs away from home and shows up at Melanie’s door. Melanie suggests that they run off and live in a shitty motel together, and being stupid 13 year old girls in a sapphic situationship, they decide it’s a perfect idea!

When Andrea becomes curious as to how they can afford to live out of a motel, Melanie figures she should introduce Andrea to her work and… yeah. She tricks her into helping her do a job, and in the aftermath, she comforts a horrified Andy by putting matching yellow band-aids on their ring fingers like a wedding. Me and the girl I pulled by traumabonding her to me ❤️

Eventually Andy comes around and they’re good for a while, of course until the school bullies catch wind of their situation and start talking. I’m not so certain on this part, but Melanie ends up betraying Andy and throwing her under the bus. I want to write it so that it’s a combination of her internalized homophobia, trauma and BPD (if anyone has any advice or experience please feel free to share!).

By this point Andy has earned enough herself to fend for herself, so they end up going their separate ways for a while. Working on her own, Melanie is given an offer by a client—a way to be much more efficient at her job. Still unstable and uncertain, she agrees. What she doesn’t realize is that this offer was to literally hollow her out FNAF scooper-style, and then turn her into a Springtrap-esque abomination of flesh and machinery ❤️

Andy, lonely and guilty despite Melanie being the one to betray her, returns and finds Hollow!Melanie. She’s rightfully horrified but also angry at Melanie for what she did. She confronts her but ends up breaking down and hugs her. Melanie, a literal and metaphorical machine, starts to remember her humanity from this and apologizes.

The ending is a work in progress but the main moral of the story that I’m trying to portray is that girlhood, especially teenage years, can be really fucked up, but it does get better because you’ll grow out of it. Melanie and Andrea part ways with a sincere “I’m glad you were in my life, now get the FUCK out”, and Andy is left with a hell of a middle school crush horror story to tell. The End ❤️

if you guys have any feedback or ideas please let me know!!!! this is all based heavily off of my own experience with abuse and trauma so it’s accurate to my own story but not necessarily anyone else’s. maybe i can get around to making refs sometime! (lying) but if you guys have any questions/submissions i will be so so SO happy to answer them :3 i felt like the ooftrop ucft writing this lmao

[aftgficrec]

Hey there it’s lucky anon again you’re never ever getting rid of me. Can I have all of your favorite Hp Aus? Thanks! I love y’all so much

Hello there lucky anon!  Since you asked for our favorites...here’s a nice collection of Harry Potter AUs, ranging from rather angsty to extremely fluffy to keep you fully entertained.  -F

Fear in a handful of dust by flybbfly [Rated M, 104521 words, Complete 2017, locked]

In which Neil doesn't have Kevin Day to convince him to play, so he becomes a sports journalist; Andrew is a keeper in more ways than one; and Quidditch is the sport du jour. Featuring a frankensteined team, eternal roommate Matt, and hawkish sports section editor Dan. Oh, and Andrew has a shady past (present? future?) that Neil can't quite figure out. But that's nothing new for Neil, who is constantly hiding everything about himself anyway—this time with magical abilities greasing the way.

(tw: references to past abuse, tw: implied/referenced noncon, tw: implied/referenced self-harm, tw: violence, tw: minor canonical character death, tw: ptsd)

Like a River by moonix  [Rated T, 65259 words, complete 2017, locked]

Andrew was a statistical anomaly. He was both a Seer and a Squib, an unfortunate combination of genetic traits that still somehow got him into Hogwarts. He had both hands full babysitting Kevin Day, resident Quidditch prodigy, after the drama with Riko Moriyama in fifth year, and making sure his brother finished his last year of education after the death of their mother. What he did not need was another stray to take in – Neil Hatford, formerly Nathaniel Wesninski, prominent guest in Andrew's prophetic dreams with his blue, blue eyes and death omens flocking to him wherever he went. What he needed even less was to start pretending they were in a relationship, but then, Andrew never had been very interested in doing what was good for him.

(tw: scars; tw: violence; tw: implied/referenced abuse; tw: panic attacks; tw: homophobic language)

a Slytherin, a Ravenclaw, and three Hufflepuffs by justadreamfox [Rated T, 8428 words, complete, AFTG Spring Exchange 2020]

Andrew goes to Hogwarts.

We're all happy little fluff-gremlins here.

(tw: implied/referenced child abuse, tw: implied/referenced self-harm)

this is me trying. by milominderbinder [Rated M, 40118 words, complete, AFTG Big Bang 2020]

In May, Andrew has a chance meeting with an interesting little runaway in Hogsmeade.

In July, a resurgent circle of Death Eaters are arrested and sentenced to life in Azkaban.

In September, finally safe from his father, a Quidditch-obsessed mystery named Neil Josten arrives at Hogwarts just in time for their final year — and just in time to completely get under Andrew’s skin.

NB: art for this fic by @puffins-studio and @black-glasses-and-books can be found here and here

(tw: implied/referenced abuse, tw: implied/referenced csa)

the magic in a single word by Leahelisabeth [Rated G, 3908 words, complete, 2020, AFTG exchange, locked]

Neil stood under the umbrella flowers, an uncertain smile pasted on his face. He looked different. Exhaustion was written in every new line on his face and the dark circles under his eyes. The scars on his cheeks were unfamiliar, straight lines on one cheek, circular blemishes on the other, likely made with magic so they could not be erased. Neil took one limping step toward Andrew, a tiny potted plant in his outstretched hands.

“Fuck off,” Andrew said.

After an attack on Hogwarts, Neil ran. Now, he's back but Andrew isn't going to just let him pick up where they left off.

(tw: references to past abuse)

Raspberry Friands by jemejem [Rated G, 8934 words, complete, AFTG Valentine’s Exchange 2020]

When Neil sends a letter for Aaron Minyard, addressed as A. Minyard, he doesn't anticipate crossing paths with his reclusive twin. As Hogwarts gets ready for its annual Valentine's Ball, will they figure out what they truly want?

Love's Keen Smell by rimmeniall [Not Rated, 5132 words, complete, 2019]

When the Sixth Years have to learn about Amortentia-the most powerful love potion in the world that gives off an aroma of the things that are most attractive to each individual who smells it-and Neil obliviously blurts out that he smells Andrew, they're both sent into a dumb, gay panic about what exactly that means to them.

the part we choose to act on by Idnis [Rated M, 16134 words, complete, 2017, locked]

During another detention, Neil finds himself sharing the potion classroom with another student,

one with expressionless, brown eyes.

Or: Neil and Andrew are gay for each other, as per usual, but now at Hogwarts.

(tw: blood, tw: violence)

[illogicallyinclined]

could i get some,, uh,, Remy family dynamics? what’s the deal with his stepbrother?

ah, the Beautiful Belmontes and Vile Varnerins

tws: internalized racism/assimilation, allusion to abusive relationships, overt homophobia, homophobic slurs (and queer being used as a slur)

okay, so. Remy’s parents are named Elizabeth and José Belmonte. as i’ve mentioned in a previous post (from like a billion years ago), they divorced when Remy was two years old, though they left on amicable terms. 

Remy spent most of his childhood with his mother because she lived closer to his school district, but his dad got him most weekends, so it wasn’t like the situation with Virgil’s dad at all. 

moreover, Remy’s dad is actually pretty chill; HOWEVER, he did selectively choose not to teach Remy about his Mexican heritage -- figuring it would be for the best that Remy assimilate with his predominantly white peers entirely -- which, in retrospect, probably did more harm than good in the long run

on the bright(?) side, Remy’s dad is like... loaded. and, because he feels some residual guilt for the challenges that Remy faced growing up as a direct result of his upbringing, he makes sure to send Remy more money than Remy knows what to do with on a regular basis

admittedly, Remy is still probably closer to his mother -- not because he’s bitter at his dad or anything, but because he and his mother are,,, very similar

listen. they’re both sassy. they both like treating themselves; they used to go out for Sunday brunch every weekend. they would get mani-pedis together. they had an entire face mask routine that they carried out every night. Remy was a little nervous coming out to his father, but he never worried about coming out to his mother At All. that’s just the kind of bond that they have.

the key difference between Remy and his mother, however, is that his mother exclusively has taste for horrible men

sometimes, Remy thinks that things may not have worked out between Elizabeth and José Belmonte because José was too boring (read: too nice) for his mom. after all, after the divorce, his mother only dated men who were self-absorbed or hypermasculine or entirely incompetent or a combination of the three. 

don’t get him wrong, none of them were ever overtly violent -- okay, well, one was, but the moment that he revealed this part of himself, he was booted out the door immediately -- but even still, all of them sucked in their own unique ways. 

some of them cheated on her. some of them ignored her. some of them were just... grown baby men who needed someone to do everything for them. disgusting.

she found the lesser of many evils in a man named Michael Varnerin, who she started dating when Remy was in the seventh grade, then married when he was in the tenth. and along with Michael came his son, Michael (”call-me-Mike”) Jr, who is even more annoying than his father

Michael, Remy step-father, is... a mix of hypermasculine and obnoxious that Remy can’t stand. he’s loud. he’s a slob. he wants, desperately, to be a family man, but he’s also super competitive and refuses to try and bond with Remy in a way that might be considered “girly.” he whines and complains about the stupidest of things constantly. he’s kind of like a classic sitcom dad, but with fewer redeeming qualities. (at least sitcom dads are funny sometimes).

Remy can tolerate Michael if only because he does, genuinely, care about Remy’s mom. he remembers anniversaries. he sometimes surprises her with her favorite flowers. when Remy’s mother is upset, Michael knows what to do to calm her down. 

and, although Michael entirely too macho for Remy’s tastes, he at least has the common sense not to say anything overtly homophobic about Remy to his face, which. well. 

(the same can’t be said about Michael Jr)

Michael “call-me-Mike” Jr is a homophobe, but one that doesn’t even realize that he’s a homophobe (which, in Remy’s opinion, is arguably the most annoying kind that there is). 

like -- he wouldn’t beat Remy up or shove him in lockers or anything like that, but he also made it clear early on that he never wanted to share a room with Remy (because “what if he looks at me while I’m changing,” “i don’t want him to see me naked,” etc, etc.) and although he consistently drags Remy out to group events, he sometimes demands that Remy “tone the gay down, i don’t want you to embarrass me in front of my friends”

and what’s even more infuriating is that, although Michael Jr makes these sort of statements, he’ll bend his own rules on a whim if he ever feels like it. for instance, he’ll occasionally introduce Remy to girls he’s dating and immediately out him (i.e. “this is Remy, he’s a queer”), or he’ll drop the f slur and then immediately follow it up with some variation of “i’m not homophobic, my step-brother’s gay.” he’ll openly mock Remy while he’s chilling with his frat bros, but then he’ll offer half-hearted apologies in private because “it’s not like you’ve never said anything mean about me to your friends”

tldr, he’s the fucking worst. Remy can’t stand him. and he’s built like a brick house, too, so. there’s little that Remy can do besides offer his sharpest responses and try to put as much distance between them as possible

[starkerforlife6969]

Starker- Anger

very loosely based on Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington from Stranger things. 

TW: Please be careful! Explicit abuse, parental abuse (tony’s dad, Peter’s step dad), violence, Tony punches Peter in the face once, both peter and tony are being abused by their parents, unhealthy coping mechanisms, brief mentions of homophobic slurs, somehow a happy ending, high school au, just- be careful, my lovelies! 

Tony’s known pretty boys like Peter Parker his whole life.

They aren’t worth the paper they’re printed on, and they are printed on paper: stick thin and flimsy. Two dimensional, boring, shallow, materialistic. They’re a dime a dozen back in Phoenix, and frankly, Tony wasn’t impressed with them there, so here, in this dreary little town where school spirit and pep leaks outside of the school’s hallways and into the streets, where popularity matters deep in the suburbs the same way it does in the classroom, Tony really isn’t impressed.

Pretty boys like Peter Parker are pretty, and that’s all they’re good for. A bit of eye-candy.

The bubbly-blonde, cotton-candy cheerleader who’s been assigned to showing him around the school, does so with an enthusiasm that’s borderline revolting. “There are loads of school clubs, you should totally join, like, all of them! Peter’s on the committee, and he’s so open to new ideas, if you think of a club just run it by him! He’d be so happy to! He also hosts these, like, killer parties! And it’s always open invitation, Peter’s house is totally lush, he has this huge pool and his parents are like, never home-“

Jesus Christ, it’s all so inane. Tony reaches for his cigarettes and the girl stutters to a halt as she watches him light it up right there in the hall. Her eyes are wide with awe- rimmed with arousal and wrongness. Tony resists the urge to smirk. It’s all so easy. Cookie-cutter town like this, where the most popular guy in school is on fuckin’ committees for school clubs, he’s not surprised that dark, slicked back hair, black-rimmed eyes and a cigarette will be enough to rework the social structure.

In fact, he’s sort of banking on it.

“Y-you’re not allowed to smoke in here,” she breathes in amazement, and Tony chuckles, fumes curling around his jaw.

“Yeah, sweetheart?” He says around his cigarette, giving her a wink. “You gonna tell on me?”

She shakes her head, hair swishing with her promise, and when the tour ends- she races off, no doubt, to tell the food chain of the cafeteria what she’s witnessed.

* *

Maria cries that night, when Howard kicks Tony’s face so hard he can feel his eye bulge a little.

Tony wants to tell her not to cry. He wants to gather her into his arms and spit blood and say I told you he wouldn’t change just because we’ve moved states. He can’t change, mom. He won’t change.

He loves her for loving him. He hates her for not saving him.

He swallows down putrid blood and sleeps in his car.

When he wakes up, there’s fresh bandages tucked into his glove compartment, a packed lunch, a blanket draped over his shoulders and a post-it note that says (in handwriting that trembles) that maybe he shouldn’t come inside for breakfast. I love you, sweetheart. I’m sorry. Mom xx

* *

The rumour mill has been churning, and when he walks into school with his shiner, it just spins even faster.

People gape, a few, braver ones, flutter over, hovering, but not quite speaking.

Tony feels pretty damn good. It’s nice to feel handsome. Powerful. Nice to know that somewhere, he can exude a little control.

But to be King, there has to be a de-throning.

“You,” he drawls, slamming a locker shut and narrowly missing a freshman’s fingers. “Peter Parker, where is he?”

The freshmen swallows hard, shrinking into his neck. “Uh-uh- p-probably in the a-art rooms, T-Tony.”

Tony grins, and pats him on the cheek. The boy already knows his name. Everyone must.

Without another word, he turns and heads for the art rooms.

When he gets there, his breath catches in his throat.

Dappled in sunlight, twisting spirals of cedar hair, amber eyes and practically drenched in a golden aura, is Peter Parker.

He’s frowning at a canvas, and it makes Tony seethe.

Pretty boys like that are all the same. Oh, is his biggest fucking problem the fact he can’t decide what to paint? He certainly doesn’t have any money issues, not if the expensive shoes are anything to go by. The designer jeans, the pink sweater with the ruffled lace collar.

Tony hates him. Fucking envies him. The sight of him- so beautiful, so serene- so troubleless, he has everything. He has everything. No doubt two parents who adore him, a nice house, money, talent, beauty- a future. And everyone here adores him, fuckin’ thinks he hung the moon in the sky.

“You think you’re worth anything?” Howard sneers, jabbing Tony’s shoulders hard enough to bruise. “You ain’t worth a damn thing, sport. You’re worth shit.”

“Well,” Tony smiles, all mean and sharp at the edges, and feels a vicious sort of victory in the way Peter jumps.

Like he’s not used to be snuck up on. Like he’s not used to being scared. “Oh, you scared me,” the boy laughs, a blush on his cheeks, “you must be Tony-“

“You’re as pretty as they said you were.” Tony continues, because he doesn’t want to hear Peter’s sweet voice. Doesn’t want to hear another word out of his mouth. “Prettier, even. They don’t do you justice.” He trails his fingers across still-wet canvases drying on easels, smudging and ruining the paintings.

“Hey, I think- you’re not supposed to touch those,” Peter points out worriedly, pearly teeth nibbling at his bottom lip. “You might accidentally-“

Tony moves so quickly it must look like he’s teleported. He backhands Peter so fucking hard, it’s so fucking satisfying, and the boy topples to the ground gracelessly.

There’s no movement for a long moment, before the boy lets out a strangled gasp, wrenches himself away.

Not far enough. Goddamn, he’s so weak. How can anyone be this weak? Tony knows to cover his head, to curl up in a ball, but Peter’s splayed out and defenceless.

Tony reaches down to grab him by the designer sweater, lifting him clear off the ground as Peter winces and recoils. The mark on his cheek is darkening rapidly, an ugly scarlet. “You run this school, Parker? You their precious king?”

“What? No! I…” there are tears sparkling in his eyes, he even cries like a Disney character. “I don’t- I don’t understand, please don’t-“

Begging never stops anything. Tony drops him and punches down in one swift motion, right onto Peter’s stomach- forcing all the air out of him, along with a pitiful whimper. “You ain’t king of shit, you get that, Parker?”

He doesn’t stick around for an answer, not that Peter could give one, with the way he’s wheezing, and he strides out; fingers streaked with paint and blood.

* * Peter doesn’t come into school the next day, and all eyes are stuck on Tony.

They’re not all as admiring anymore, but they are intimidated, and that’ll do. The girls still flock to him, the younger students still flee.

It’s easy to dethrone. History makes it look hard, but it isn’t.

“Liam’s throwing a party next week,” Cindy says over lunch. Tony’s sitting at the “popular” table. It looks like all the others, but the people there are substantially more attractive. He’s sitting where Peter usually sits, that much he can gather, and the students (his subjects) whisper with nervous fear. “You should totally come.”

“Maybe,” Tony murmurs, but he will go. Anywhere that isn’t home in the evenings. Anywhere else.

*** Tony feels good on Friday.

His dad is out of town on business, and he and his mom ate take out in front of the tv and didn’t have to worry when they spilt some on the rug.

He parks his beat up car in one of the teacher’s spots, and his entourage rush to greet him and update him on the gossip and prattle on about things he doesn’t give a shit about.

That is, until one of them says-

“Peter’s back in today.”

And that, Tony has to see.

He’s not technically in AP english, but he winks at the receptionist and she buckles like everyone does.

Peter sits at the front of the class, scribbling notes furiously, and looks entirely put together in a white chiffon blouse and green slacks. The bruise along his cheekbone is horrific. Darker and splotchier- there’s a tiny little cut above his left eyebrow- Tony doesn’t remember doing that, but that happens sometimes. He hits a little harder than he means to.

Seeing it is a weird feeling. It makes disgust well up inside him, something horrible and tortured screeches to be let out, and on the other hand-

He’s a king looking down on the enemy wounded.

Peter doesn’t look up at him once during the class, even though he goes out of his way to be annoying and aggravating.

The teacher kicks him out eventually, and when the bell rings, he waits by Peter’s locker.

The boy approaches cautiously. He’s alone. All alone. High school fans, so fickle, Tony tuts.

“Parker,” he grins, watching as Peter twists open the combination lock. “Finally decided to come back.”

“I guess so,” the boy says quietly, demurely, changing out his books. He has hard copies of everything, all brand new and shiny. They don’t look like the torn up, hand-down charity shop copies Tony uses.

Tony waits, but Peter offers nothing else. He feels too sharp around the edges, he feels like he’s shattering. “Well? Aren’t you gonna tell on me or some shit? I haven’t heard a word.”

“You want me to tell someone you attacked me?” Peter clarifies curiously, looking at him with huge, honey eyes. It’s like someone bottled sunlight. Tony’s winded by the sight of them.

“I-“

“What would that achieve?” Peter asks, blatant with honesty and genuine inquisitiveness. “It wouldn’t make you stop. It might get you suspended, maybe expelled, but then what? Not like you couldn’t come and find me outside of school. Then I call the police? Try to get you arrested for assault? You’d be released in a year anyway, and then what?”

Tony snarls, banging his fist against the lockers so loudly the entire hallway falls silent. He leans in and spits into Peter’s face: “How about some fuckin’ gratitude that I didn’t leave a mark, huh, pretty boy? Where’s my thanks?”

Peter doesn’t step away. He looks up and juts out his chin in a way that’s meant to be intimidating but is more endearing than anything. “Thank you.” He whispers. His lower lip shakes. “Thank you for what you did to me.”

“Don’t fuckin- stop cryin- get up! Get up!” Howard yells, hauling Tony to his feet. He stumbles, unable to stand, and Howard shoves him against the wall. “Fuckin’ ingrate, say thank you- thank me for taking the time to fuckin’ teach you!”

“Thank you,” Tony manages around a sob, sliding to the floor and bursting into tears.

Tony staggers back hard.

He’s not-

He’s not.

*** Pretty boy Peter is a bug under his skin.

Tony can’t stop thinking about him. Can’t stop wondering where he is, how he is.

Jefferson High is a huge school, but the fields and playgrounds are bigger, and that’s where students spend their time.

Tony finds Peter every lunch time, curled up in the big chairs in the library, buried in a book.

Sometimes he’s wearing oversized cream sweaters, sometimes when it’s hot, he’s in some fancy lace get up, and Tony eyes the smooth, soft skin on display. Sometimes he’s almost asleep, looks so peaceful and cosy (Tony wants to reach out and gently, gently touch) sometimes his eyes are moving so rapidly, his lips parted in exhilaration, fingers clumsy as they hurriedly turn the page that Tony would give anything to know what he was reading.

For Peter to tell him what interested him so much.

As it is, he doesn’t approach. Just watches from the shadows for as long as he can, before slipping out undetected.

He’s particularly good at that, thank years of practising.

The swarms that once worshipped the boy never hang out with Peter anymore, but oddly enough, Peter doesn’t seem to care, or even notice.

Tony can relate to that. Losing Cindy the air-head might actually be a relief. He’s tried to shake her off, but she latches like a leech.

Instead, Peter spends his time with a dreary-eyed girl. A girl Tony knows gets called dyke by the guys in the shower-room.

Tony doesn’t join in their bantering over jokes like that.

She’s cool, though, and clearly doesn’t give a shit. She’ll be something big when she’s out of here, and Tony wants to her see her succeed. Wants to flip on his television set one day in a few years and see her face.

When he gets home that night, he has the book Peter was reading at lunch tucked under his arm (the librarian too, is a sucker for his eyes).

Howard glares at him, kicks at him when he walks past like he’s a mangy mutt, but he makes it to bed and he flips on the switch, snuggled into threadbare sheets, and he reads.

*** Amidst the thrum of music, the boozy smell of alcohol, and lipstick on the back of playing cards, Peter Parker shows up to Liam’s party.

Tony’s halfway through a keg, but he’s not feeling the effects (so what? He’s built up a bit of a tolerance) and people are chanting King Tony! when he spots wavy brown hair and pretty pink lips.

He follows without even meaning to.

Peter’s face is healed now, back to as beautiful as ever. Tony heals fast too.

“Parker,” he greets, when Peter helps himself to punch. “You showin’ your face here?”

Peter smiles. “I was invited.”

That surprises him. “Really? Who’d wanna be seen with a nobody like you?”

“Liam and I go back.”

Well damn, not as fickle as he’d thought then. Anyway, the sight of Peter is thrilling. It’s troubling. “Get the fuck out,” Tony orders, because a rather large part of him wants to- wants to kiss-

“I was just leaving.” The boy corrects, turning away.

There’s a welt on his back.

It peaks out behind the strappy, vintage style blazer. But only just. It’s been cleverly covered up, if Tony wasn’t so familiar with the sight he’d never have spotted it and-

He reaches out, calls for Peter to stop- wait-

But he’s already gone.

*

It’s an obsession.

But it keeps him from the house. He drives around town slowly, cigarette hanging out the corner of his mouth, arm hanging out the window of his car, and he coasts through fancy neighbourhoods, sees wholesome families praying before eating their dinner in their grand dining rooms.

He hates them.

He spots Peter’s pretty red Camaro parked in the driveway of an enormous house.

He parks around the block, comes back, and lingers.

It’s totally normal. The curtains are shut, but Tony can see enough. They have neat hedgerows, cultivated fox gloves, and a bird feeder out front. There are three cars parked neatly, Peter’s, a blue beetle, and a large jeep, all lovingly taken care of and gleaming in the evening light.

The kitchen curtains have charming little frogs on them, the mat out front says welcome.

He can’t have seen a welt on Peter’s back, because that doesn’t fit.

It fits Tony. With his beaten down house, lack of kitchen curtains, lack of prayers, his scratched up, junkyard piece of crap, his bruised knuckles and his split lip.

He’s wrong.

*** His mom’s been saying that Howard’s getting worse.

Tony zones her out. She says stuff like this all the time. Other times she says he’s getting better, then he’s getting worse, but she never does a fuckin’ thing about it.

When he staggers out of the house at three am, bleeding bad, throbbing all over, and he falls into his car- can hear his mother screaming, can hear Howard demanding him to get back inside, he steps on the gas and tails it.

He’s driving to the hospital, hardly able to see through the blood and the pain and the black spots dancing across his vision, when he crashes into a street lamp.

It’s not a bad crash. Another dent in many, he thinks, but he suddenly feels warm all over.

He’s cosy. He could fall asleep.

*** When he wakes up, he’s on a cloud. He’s floating on air.

He blinks and there’s a warm, gold light, and two, beautiful honey eyes.

He’s in heaven.

But that can’t be right, he’s a piece of shit.

“You got that right,” comes a chiding, slightly teasing tone, and he squints against the dimness to see Peter Parker above him, dabbing at him with white cotton buds.

Feeling seems to come back all at once. First, an ache that drags through his whole body, then the blinding sting of whatever hell fire Peter’s putting on his face, third, that Peter’s straddling hm, and it’s a really rather nice hot, weight.

“Mm, baby,” he groans, sliding his coarse hands up Peter’s bare, smooth thighs, “this is a pleasant surprise.” He bucks his hip a little, feels his clothed dick nestle between two plump cheeks. He gets a little burst of pleasure that’s such a fucking relief from the pain that he grinds upwards again.

Peter’s hand is firm on his chest, pressing him down into the bed, not cloud. “You’re hurt, Tony. One problem at a time please.”

Problems. Damn. He has a lot of those.

“Tell me about it,” Peter sighs. “I’ve parked your car at the drive-thru theatre. I left a note at the lamppost. I hope no one minds.”

Tony blinks, dazed, and watches as Peter tends to him. It reminds him of that film his mom used to watch all the time, the fuckin horrible one with the dancing and the singing and the monster.

Beauty and the Beast, his mind supplies.

Peter’s face isn’t pretty. It’s beautiful. Dimples and prominent cheekbones, lovely eyebrows and long lashes. He has freckles and a beauty mark on his jaw, perfect for kissing. His forehead is creased in concentration as he works on Tony’s face, his tongue resting on his lips.

Tony may not be in heaven, but he is looking at an angel.

“Do you really…” he whispers, reaching up a clumsy hand to stroke tenderly at Peter’s face. The boy doesn’t even flinch. “Did you really have a…a belt mark on you…”

Those eyes snap to him, a vulnerability come to light, a hidden truth revealed.

Then they darken, and look away. “You need to get your rest.”

“It doesn’t make sense,” Tony croaks, eyes burning, “you’re perfect. It’s not meant to- not meant to happen to perfect people, only- only broken ones, like-“

“Nobody’s perfect,” Peter whispers wisely, dabbing cream onto his fingers, and then onto Tony’s face.

“Who does it to you?”

“Step dad,” Peter shrugs, “he never hits her, though. I think he misses his own son.”

“I’ll kill him for hurtin’ you, I swear,” he slurs, filled with righteous ire. Who could hurt such an angel-

“That’d be hypocritical.” Peter muses, opening a pack of antiseptic wipes and swiping at Tony’s temple. He’s good at this. He must be well-practised.

Tony drowns in self-loathing. “I’m a shit.” He hisses, “I’m a shit, I’m sorry, but my dad-“

“I understand.” Peter nods, fingers stroking through Tony’s hair. “I empathise. I don’t forgive you. Not yet.”

“You might, though?” Tony urges, craning into every touch. “Maybe?”

Peter grinds down once, making Tony’s dick jolt with arousal. “Maybe.” He whispers.

*** Tony hates his anger management counsellor so fucking much.

But Howard hates him going, so Tony always shows up on time.

Peggy is patient and understanding, but no-nonsense.

When he shows up with bleeding knuckles and a jagged cut on his arm, she offers him a lemon sucker and shakes her head.

“He started it.” Tony hisses, taking a sherbet and sucking on it.

She doesn’t say anything.

“It wasn’t Peter, if that’s what you’re thinking. I would never hurt Pe- I haven’t ever hit Peter again.”

She’s silent.

He feels like a kid. He hangs his head on his chest. “I get so angry.” He whispers.

“And does violence make the anger go away?”

He nods, looking at her through tears. He cries so much nowadays. Peggy says it’s a good thing. “It turns it into power.”

Peggy looks at him, urging him to get there on his own.

“It’s not power,” he mumbles, lemon on his tongue, “I feel helpless.”

“We all do sometimes, Tony,” she smiles, and offers him another lemon drop. “I want to talk about your mom today. About the things you think she likes best about you.”

Tony wants to run and hide, but instead he sits and listens.

* Sometimes, when Peter reaches over to hold Tony’s hand, Tony yanks it away, his whole mood sours, and he storms out.

He always comes back though. Shame-faced, small, and he reaches out for a hug and Peter gives it to him.

He yells sometimes too. When he’s trying really hard not to, it slips out. Horrible things, things he doesn’t mean, things he wishes he could take back but he fears are going to hang there in the air forever.

He always cries afterwards, and calls Peggy.

Peter yells too, from time to time, when he’s fracturing a little, when Kurt presses where it hurts.

Tony holds Peter tight when that happens, kisses his hair all soft and gentle in the ways he never thought he could be, and promises that they’ll both do better. They’ll both be better.

Peter sees Stephen Strange, a counsellor on the other side of town.

Peggy thinks it’s a good idea for Peter and Tony to heal independently of each other, just in case they become a support system for one being, rather than two people.

Strange says you shouldn’t feel guilty for lashing out. Peggy says you should apologise if you’re sorry.

Peter kisses the hollow of Tony’s throat and says: “I want to tell you all the things I love about you.”

By the end of the forty-minute list, Tony has to cut Peter off, because he can’t hear him over his own sobs.

After a month of no violence, Tony’s greeted to Peter covered in flour and icing, holding a poorly shaped cake that says one month of peace is groovy baby.

They eat it in an old tent, camped out on the edge of town. The cake is disgusting, and Tony’s new favourite. 

They have sex in the grass and Tony kisses Peter’s new welt, and says that he deserves so much more than this.

That, if he likes, Tony will try to give it to him.

**

They have a modest house in a modest town. They have curtains with kangaroos on them, and no dining table- just a coffee table with bean bags in front of the television.

They have one nice car that they share.

They have friends.

They meet each other in the drive way, both on their way home from work, and Peter blushes when Tony holds out the bouquet of tulips. “Pretty boy,” Tony grins, as Peter buries his face in the petals. “I heard from a little birdie that it was your wedding anniversary.”

“Mm,” Peter giggles, “that’s weird. Me and my husband promised each other no presents.”

“Ah,” Tony sighs, drawing Peter into his arms, kissing him silly for the whole neighbourhood to see (not that they haven’t seen it before. It’s stupid and reckless but it’s a good town). “So, if we go inside, there’ll be no freshly baked cake on the counter, right? You didn’t sneak home on your lunch break to bake me something?”

Peter sighs. “Who told?”

“Becky. She can’t keep a secret, Pete.”

Peter laughs, and they thread their fingers together and head inside.

It’s not a perfect ending, but it’s happy. They fight, sometimes. They tremble. They remember things they wish they could forget. They break down on the side of the road. They spend nights in motels.

But those are fewer and farther between. And in the end, they always come home- to each other.

The cake is terrible. It always is. But Tony eats every single bite.

It’s the same recipe as the one Peter made all those years ago, after one month of no fights.

It’s stale and it brings back so many memories.

“Is it good?” Peter asks worriedly, putting the tulips in water.

Tony takes a huge bite, and shakes his head in wonder. “Yeah, baby,” he whispers, “even after all this time, it’s still really, really good.”

He thinks it always will be. 

[ttxrtledeerr-olemtala]

Olem Tala

Main Story (Taussma)

Side note: All of these are mostly unfinished, and i change the stories a lot, so chances are they will change at some point. (Also, if you see any flaws, please point them out, thank you!)

The main story is about a schizophrenic wolf (Winter’s Howl). He ‘hallucinates’ about demons from a hell-like realm called Taussma.

Winter is constantly bullied and pretty much has no friends, so instead of imagining them as the demons they are, he imagines them as good people. He ‘imagines’ that Taussma is a place near where he lives, so he goes out to find it, thinking that he’ll be welcomed there. Well, he isn’t. He realizes that they aren’t as good as he thought they were.

The demons slowly gain more and more power, until somehow, they are physical entities (hopefully that makes sense). He runs away from Taussma after he realizes that they’re slowly trying to kill him, but little does he know, they followed him, and they’re gonna kill him, and everyone else pretty much.

Secondary Stories

Finley (Tw: abusive relationship, murder, etc)

Finley is the story of a woman named, well, Finley. She was forced into a relationship with a controlling and abusive 42 year old man named Scavenger.

Scavenger was very abusive towards Finley, but they end up having 4 kids together: Bella, Ezekiel, Clover, and Max. Finley adored the children, and would do anything for them. Scavenger hated the children and would get annoyed at them even talking to him. Eventually, when Max was 9 years old, Scavenger brutally murdered them.

Finley, rightfully devastated, finally realized that she needed to get away from him. She hid the children from Scavenger, and killed him the same way he killed Max, except this time slower, so that he would feel every bit of pain. She took her children, and they escaped off to a place far away called Taussma.

Greedy (Tw: homophobia, child neglect, etc)

Greedy is about a family of 4 people: Quin, Heinrich, Simon, and Pike. Heinrich is the father of Simon and Pike. He is a very kind man who looks for the good in everyone. Simon is really brave, and is a closeted gay. Pike is really adventurous. Quin is the mother of Simon and Pike. She’s very greedy, selfish, and homophobic.

In the family, there are also two pet foxes named Karkeo and Masseren. Karkeo is very sassy, and kind of a smartass. Masseren on the other hand is more calm.

When Quin finds out that Simon is gay, she beats him and tells him to leave. After he leaves, she takes her anger out on the rest of the family, mainly Heinrich, Pike, and Karkeo.

Sick of her bullshit, Karkeo leaves to go find Simon. Months pass, and Quin becomes more and more hostile. Pike decides that he’d rather die alone looking for his brother than die from neglect, so he leaves. Masseren, being protective over the young boy, follows him. Somehow, they manage to find Simon. Simon is now living with his boyfriend, Cecil.

Meanwhile, back at home. Quin becomes more violent. After a heated arguement between her and Heinrich, she beats him, ties him up with rope covered in thorns, burns the house down with him in it, then runs away to Taussma.

Rainbow (Tw: transphobia, violence, etc)

Rainbow is about a German family with three members. Verdrehte is the mom, Leemit is the older sister, and Viktor is the younger brother. Viktor comes out to Leemit as trans (ftm). Leemit is very supportive of him, and helps him with things like binding, training his voice, etc. She helps him work up the courage to come out to Verdrehte, thinking it would go well, but it didn’t.

Verdrehte was furious, calling him numerous slurs. She also started screaming at Leemit for supporting and helping him. She burned Viktor’s arms, chest, legs, neck, and face, and she broke Leemit’s jaw and nose. She told them that if they tell anybody what she did to them, she would kill them.

Viktor and Leemit both agreed that they would try and run away, and get help. They ran away from home, but Verdrehte caught them. Viktor managed to get away, but Leemit wasn’t as lucky. She was caught, and after refusing to tell where Viktor was, she was killed.

No more (I use humor for this one because I’m not really sure how to explain it in a serious way without it sounding cheesy or cringy. Tw: graphic)

No more is the stereotypical good vs evil story. Taussma is really strong now, so they’re gonna try and kill everybody. Some teenagers and 2 foxes decide that they’re stronger so they fight the demons.

One of the teens (Praise) shot the cougar in the head with a bow and arrow. It went through his brain and somehow put him in a rabid state. Bella somehow managed to yank out her own tooth and its somehow sharp enough to rip someone’s stomach open. She also stabs someone else’s eyes with her teeth and makes them go bilnd.

Eventually the goth h0 almost kills the gay demon prince, which leads to the rest of them retreating.

Canary (I’m gonna use humor again bc this is kinda fun lmao. Tw: abuse)

Canary is about these two twins (Remy and Charlie) who decide that it would be a good idea to explore an ‘abandoned’ factory. They go in and quickly find out that it is in fact, not abandoned. Almost immediately they encounter 3 people. Ryann, Ellie, and Oliver.

Remy and Charlie are seperated, and Charlie encounters some of the people that are stuck there. Some of those people are Pogo, an insane but friendly woman who looks like a cymbal monkey, and Ginny, a motherly woman who kinda looks like a burlesque dancer, and Lola, Ryann’s daughter who was supposed to die a long time ago but he keeps bringing her back to life just to abuse her and treat her like shit.

Remy encounters also encounters different creatures. Their names are Babyface, a mute clown, Herstel, a bear that looks like she got drenched in clown/fun house/carnival acid, and Urlen, a strange looking creature that looks like a combination of a bird, a deer, a sheep, and a very thin cat.

Eventually, Ryann tortures Charlie and tries to get him to show emotion, except he’s physically unable to. Ryann injects Charlie with something that makes him show emotions.

Ryann for some reason decides to burn the place down, with everyone in it, then escape, except the workers there are kinda stupid and forgot to contain literally the most dangerous creature there, which is Con. The cougar who was supposed to die, but didn’t somehow. Con attacks, and kills Ryann. Con tries to kill Charlie, but Pogo comes in and kicks Con into the fire and helps Charlie escape, So then they all escape and go home and pretend that nothing ever happened.

[lumberjanes]

How do you think Molly's mum treats her siblings? She clearly has two sisters as shown in the photo in the "Time Shenanigans" arc. Do you reckon they have to go through what Molly has to go through?

TW: Discussion of abuse

I don’t exactly know how Molly’s mom would treat the rest of the family, mostly since we haven’t seen much of Molly’s siblings (we’ve only seen them in one panel, I think?) or any of Molly’s family at all.

That one panel does highlight one thing, though - in the family photo, it’s clear that Molly is the one who feels the most alienated. This might be because her family is abusive to only her, it might be because her family is homophobic, it might be because eldest daughters are pressured far more than any other sibling to be perfect. It might be a combination of any of the above, or something else entirely - everything I’m mentioning is just speculation.

Personally, I hope that those two kids aren’t suffering the same thing Molly’s going through - nobody should have to go through that. But we don’t know enough about Molly’s family dynamic to be able to know anything for sure.

[lgbtqiahistoricalromance]

The Gentleman’s Guide to Vice and Virtue by Mackenzi Lee

A young bisexual British lord embarks on an unforgettable Grand Tour of Europe with his best friend/secret crush.

Henry “Monty” Montague doesn’t care that his roguish passions are far from suitable for the gentleman he was born to be. But as Monty embarks on his grand tour of Europe, his quests for pleasure and vice are in danger of coming to an end. Not only does his father expect him to take over the family’s estate upon his return, but Monty is also nursing an impossible crush on his best friend and traveling companion, Percy.

So Monty vows to make this yearlong escapade one last hedonistic hurrah and flirt with Percy from Paris to Rome. But when one of Monty’s reckless decisions turns their trip abroad into a harrowing manhunt, it calls into question everything he knows, including his relationship with the boy he adores.

Let me preface by saying, I don’t even know how to adequately review this book. Imagine if you combined The Three Musketeers, The Fall of the House of Usher, The Importance of Being Earnest, Pirates of the Caribbean, and your favorite Jane Austen novel into one book, but with a m/m romantic story line. This book has elements of the ridiculous (in the best ways), anachronistic language that shouldn’t work (but totally does), and grand romance (as in the original meaning of the word--not just a love story). It’s outrageously humorous in some sections, and definitely heart-breaking in others.

Monty, Percy, and Monty’s sister (Felicity) will be immersed in intrigue, and dash about the likes of England, Paris, Marseilles, Barcelona, and Venice in order to avoid capture at the hands of the evil Duke of Bourbon. Without his knowledge, Monty has picked up not just a trinket during a party, but an item of incalculable value and importance to the scientific world, not to mention the political.

On the journey to avoid capture, Monty will discover a secret about the love of his life, his best friend, and confidante, Percy. The secret, and the manhunt, are both life-and-death situations, and sometimes you will want to dislike Monty, and others you will want to wrap him up and keep him away from the world. Percy is dashing and brilliant, and you can’t help but love him. Felicity is a refreshing change from the typical society miss, and often takes the lead in their adventure. Monty is often his own worst enemy, and the path of true love isn’t always smooth. Their entire lives will change as a result of the Grand Tour becoming much more, and Monty will go from being a rather weak and selfish, to realizing a family is what you make of the people around you, not the family into which you’re born.

tw: abuse of an adolescent by a parent; depression; suicide mentions -- While this novel guises as a completely light-hearted romp, there are some excellent sections that deal with the repercussions of being the son of a homophobic father, and the violence that can result. Some of us may understand them all too well.

Contains period-typical homophobia and racism. Rated M.

The sequel deals with Felicity’s own adventure, and takes place two years after the events of this novel. The Lady's Guide to Petticoats and Piracy...

[anxieteawitch-blog]

21 Day Newbie Devotee Challenge! - Day 2 aka The Gang Gets Real

Are you just starting a relationship with a deity? Or have you been working with a deity for a while, but feel as though you’re stuck in a rut? Or do you just want to take the time to research your deity a little bit more? Despite being called the “Newbie” Devotee Challenge, this challenge is perfect for both beginners and well-seasoned devotees! This challenge is perfect for helping you reflect on both your deity, and your practice.

Tag all posts with “newbie devotee challenge” so we can all see your hard work! And please reblog this post if you plan on doing this challenge!

Day 2: What initially drew you to that deity? (Did they call you? Did you call them? How did you discover their identity? Etc.)

TW for alcoholism, marijuana use, depression, suicidal ideation, childhood emotional abuse

Well, if you just followed this blog, buckle up.

I was not in a good place when he made his presence known.

I have pretty much always had low-grade to serious depression because of childhood trauma. An early adult in my life was highly emotionally (and sometimes physically) abusive towards both me and my mother, and I never totally coped with it as I became an adult. Likewise, I didn’t fully cope with my learning disabilities OR my depression, so I was constantly struggling in school. I mostly got good grades, but also failed a lot of classes. I was pretty much constantly walking on the edge. Being my mom’s only child is probably the only reason I held it together. I was also deeply closeted because my childhood abuser was also homophobic in many ways (and even my mom, as much as I love her and as supportive as she’s been since I came out, once said she’d be disappointed if I turned out gay). I used to fantasize about having a “good” neurotypical, straight sibling. Combined with being told I was stupid and fat and angry and mean by my abuser since I was a child, I felt wrong and broken and vile in every way.

There were good days and bad, but pre-coming out I felt like I was in this miasma of disappointment and failure. I came out, my mom accepted me, my relationship with my childhood abuser steadily improved as he received treatment (on and off again).

But I’d already started drinking. I don’t know if I was an alcoholic...but between turning 21 and now, I was drinking way too much. It felt like the only time my brain released its vice like grip on me. And it was beginning to impact my health. It didn’t make me feel better, and when it was the only time a part of me didn’t really care if I lived or not. I don’t think I was ever really suicidal, but I definitely was passively self-destructive and I spent a lot of time fantasizing about that imaginary sibling, who could be good and godly and I could just BE a disappointment. It got worse and worse until I was pretty much either constantly hung over or drunk (a relatively short period of time).

I tried marijuana with my childhood abuser. He pushed me to keep doing more until I’d done too much. Like, the world went purple and a spider fell on me. I’d been having scary heart stuff with alcohol for a while, and my heart rate skyrocketed during the worst trip ever. I was convinced I was dying, and the person I was with refused to call an ambulance.

It was a long, bad day. I don’t know how much danger I was actually in, but it was definitely one hell of a stress test. I’m still worried I broke my heart somehow. It was a very low, low.

I had a dream around that time (it was either the night before it happened or the night after, either a warning or a comfort). Where I was in bed over a red cliff with an infinite sky, and a man was standing over me. The weed definitely had a component in the vividness of the dream, but I like to think the power in his words was real:

“I am Loki.”

I realized that so many of the good things that had happened in my life had been by very strange happenstance, and had something unusual or “cast off” about them. Most of the joy in my life has somehow come from the “Other”, from survivors, from jobs that I got by following my passion for games, from the fellow queer friends I met by accident. My dogs are shelter dogs we got by chance who needed me and my mom as much as we needed them. I’d felt like there wasn’t a god with a presence in my life, because the ways I’d been communicated with or comforted didn’t seem like ways the Christian God (who I only knew through my abuser’s family/passively believed in but believed was going to condemn me) would communicate. I don’t know when it occurred to me that “wow, what if it WAS a god trying to communicate with me?” but it was like someone turned on the lights. I’d always been searching for something to believe in, and finally I felt like I could see.

I didn’t identify with the order and organization I felt the Christian God demanded, but a god of chaos and chains and tricks? Who, from what I could tell, had been sending dispatches for some time, but made himself known when I was at my absolute lowest?

I started googling and saw that many Lokeans’ experiences seemed to most closely mirror my own. Likewise, neo-paganism in general was hugely inspiring to me—the idea of a religion without original sin was revolutionary. The idea of a god that could like, find amusement in my ADHD brain and saw kinship (?) in my off-brand queerness/could even celebrate me being bi and would be totally down with me experimenting with gender or presentation? Seeing the name “the God of Broken Chains” cinched it for me—I badly needed to stop drinking, and that felt like too much of a sign, along with the sudden, extraordinary acceptance I felt. I needed a god that wouldn’t agree with everything I did or how I was treating myself, but I also needed a god who loved me specifically for off-key traits that I should have been able to love and embrace.

I went out, I put together an altar (not everyone needs one! But as someone who came from Zero Religion aside from cultural/what I picked up from my abuser’s family, I needed the focus). And ah, that was it. A lot of cats and spiders showed up that week in weird places. I reached out, and the sensation I got was whatever the emotion is that goes along with the word “FINALLY”.

My sobriety has been kind of sputtering, first I quit cold turkey, that didn’t work. I started working out. I tried drinking less but I still got tachycardia three more times before now, where I’ve been totally sober for almost a month.

I don’t think he was causing the tachycardia per se...but he was definitely letting it happen and letting me make that mistake as many times as I needed to. I think he had a big role in dragging me kicking and screaming into a healthier lifestyle (you know that thing some Lokeans say about how he will bring change when he feels it’s needed and that sometimes it will be scary and uncomfortable, but not cruel? 100% my experience).

So...that’s the story. I know I’m definitely not the first person who ever converted to a religion after they stopped drinking or had a near death experience, but I also think he’s maybe the only god who even the mere concept of could have reached me through the miles of shit I was wallowing in.

He maybe saved my life? Or at least started me on a different path.

Hail Loki, Light Bringer, God of Broken Chains.

.

(And ah, sorry to hit y’all with the heavy stuff on Day 2 <.< I swear there will be upbeat posts in this challenge, too!)

[sapphicscholar]

maybe maggie running into an abusive ex and alex picking up that something is wrong, then when they get home maggie breaks down and tells her about it? I just left an emotionally and sexually abusive gf and it would help so much to see alex help her coz I often feel like i'll never find anyone better. thank you so much

Thank you for your message, and I hope this chapter helps. It takes so much strength to be able to leave those relationships, and I’m so proud of you (and I believe that you will absolutely find someone better, someone who treats you will all of the love and respect and kindness you deserve). 

If you want to read this off of Tumblr, it’s posted on AO3 here: http://archiveofourown.org/works/10724550/chapters/26577579 .

I combined this prompt with another similar one because, while both are important, I didn’t want to stay in that particular headspace too long. There are resources below. If this isn’t a chapter you can read, I completely understand, but I did want to include it, since things like non-physical abuse and LGBTQ-specific relationship violence are things we so rarely talk about. TW for discussions of past abuse (from a homophobic family and an intimate partner), allusions to internalized victim blaming, and someone being triggered during sex. There are no descriptions of graphic physical violence, as that’s not something I feel comfortable writing.

Prompt 1: maybe maggie running into an abusive ex and alex picking up that something is wrong, then when they get home maggie breaks down and tells her about it? I just left an emotionally and sexually abusive gf and it would help so much to see alex help her coz I often feel like i’ll never find anyone better. thank you so much

Prompt 2: can you please have alex and maggie start to have sex but maggie has flashbacks to something bad that happened and they have to stop? I always thought maggie wouldve experienced sexual harassment/violence as a lesbian (the ‘declaration of war’ fic on ao3 was amazing if you haven’t read it). I still deal with this, so please can maggie freeze/cry during sex, not wanting to tell alex what happened, then alex coaxing it out of her and taking care of her. it would mean so much to me, thank you

A/N: The number for the National (US) Domestic Violence Hotline is 1−800−799−7233 or TTY 1−800−787−3224. Their website is http://www.thehotline.org/ and it includes live chat options as well as articles about what relationship abuse can look like, what to do, how to heal, etc., including a whole section on LGBTQ abuse (http://www.thehotline.org/is-this-abuse/lgbt-abuse/).  Here’s another website with a list of global resources about domestic violence and abuse: https://www.domesticshelters.org/national-global and another international list that is still being built up (so if you have info for your own home country and feel safe contributing, feel free to do so), but it has hotlines listed: https://www.7cups.com/forum/DomesticAbuseSupportCommunity_121/DomesticAbuseResourcesandMedia_1045/ListofInternationalDomesticAbuseHotlinesContribute_65972/

Chapter Text: 

“Maggie?” a woman called out as Maggie and Alex walked past her on the street. “Is that you?”

Alex felt Maggie freeze, saw the way her whole body seemed to tense before she pulled Alex along.

“Maggie!” the woman yelled again.

Finally Maggie spun around. “Rachel,” she greeted, a forced smile on her face. “You’re in town?” Alex’s brow furrowed at the uncharacteristically gruff greeting. No, “How are you?” or “It’s been too long!” regardless of how fake both of the sentiments could be.

“I am. My wife is speaking at a conference here this week. Could’ve been you,” she laughed, though Maggie barely managed a smile. “But anyway, do you live here now?”

Maggie just shrugged. “I move a lot with work. Who knows where it’ll take me?” Alex stayed silent, but she wanted to ask why the lying, why the evasive non-answers to a pretty innocuous question. But she’d been undercover and on enough missions where details were unsure to know this type of vibe, to understand when something wasn’t right, and she knew better than to call attention to it at the time.

“Never were one for stability,” Rachel mused.

“Mm, yep. Anyway, well, have a safe trip here.”

“Are you going to introduce me to your…date?” Rachel asked, stepping closer before Maggie could spin them off in the other direction.

“Oh, this is Ashley,” Maggie mumbled. “Ashley, this is Rachel, my ex.”

Alex narrowed her eyes as she reached out to take Rachel’s hand, making a note to ask why Maggie had used her undercover name from the night they infiltrated another one of Roulette’s events together.

They exchanged vague pleasantries before Maggie pulled Alex along, walking briskly back to Alex’s apartment by way of backstreets and detours. Maggie was uncharacteristically quiet, and Alex still felt off, like there was something very wrong that she was missing, but she didn’t want to bring it up until the tension had eased from Maggie’s shoulders, until the tightness to her grip and the clench of her jaw had loosened.

When they got back into the apartment, Alex moved to put on water for tea, knowing that so often it helped Maggie to relax after stressful days. Still, something felt different. As tense as Maggie had been after running into Emily, this ex had been different, there had been something more to the story, something that led Maggie to lie and evade questions, to freeze up and move to run.

When she made it back to the couch, Maggie was still sitting exactly where she had left her—boots still laced up, coat on, phone and keys in hand. Of course, to Maggie, a whole lifetime could have gone by. But it wasn’t until she felt Alex’s hand, soft, just barely brushing against hers, that Maggie startled, pulling herself back into the present.

“Hey, I made tea. Are you okay?” Alex asked, her voice gentle, soothing, but still not quite enough.

“Thanks,” Maggie mumbled, placing her keys and phone down on the ottoman before finally leaning over to unlace her boots.

“Do you mind if I sit with you?” Alex asked again, not wanting to assume. She’d seen Maggie like this a few times before—days after she’d worked particularly challenging cases, ones that dealt with kids and trafficking victims and crimes that should never have been conceived of, let alone carried out.

“Yeah, yeah, you’re fine,” Maggie nodded, letting herself remember that Alex asked, Alex always asked. Alex cared about her, trusted her, believed her. Alex wasn’t Rachel. And suddenly she desperately needed to remind herself of that, needed to see and feel all of the ways that Alex was different, all of the ways that Alex would never treat her the way Rachel had. So she was throwing off her jacket and leaning into Alex, letting herself focus on the taste of jasmine tea and just a hint of the spearmint gum Alex had been chewing—nothing like the cigarette smoke that too often curled its way from Rachel’s mouth into hers, seeping its way into her clothes, into her home.

“You sure?” There was something almost forced about this, desperate but not in the good way.

“Yeah,” Maggie insisted, straddling Alex’s lap. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Alex confirmed, though something still felt wrong, like Maggie was trying to prove something to her. But then Maggie’s fingers were firm against her, holding her tight as she kissed her hard—bruisingly hard. So Alex wrapped her own arms tight around Maggie in turn, pulling her close and moving to flip them down so they were lying on the couch.

At the hard touch, at the movements that felt too much like an attempt to wrest control away from her, Maggie froze before pushing Alex hard, clambering back and putting several feet of distance between them. Her heart beat too fast, and it felt like her lungs couldn’t get enough air. Part of her wanted to run, but her legs felt heavy as lead, and, god, she knew this was wrong, knew it was Alex sitting in front of her, Alex looking at her with fear and care etched in her features, but she couldn’t get herself to focus on that fact, couldn’t help the way her mind swam with details from the past wrenched back into the present.

“Maggie,” Alex breathed out, her voice tight with worry. “Are you…what can I do? Can I help you?”

Maggie shook her head, forcing herself to reply. Alex hadn’t done anything wrong; she was doing something wrong by worrying her, by forcing herself on Alex, then pulling away. “It’s fine. Sorry. We can, yeah, we can, uh, go back.”

“No, Maggie, no,” Alex shook her head. “You—it’s not just you, I don’t—please?” She felt bad, felt guilty for not being able to find the words, for feeling like maybe she understood but knew she was missing something. “I shouldn’t have kissed you when you were like that. I’m sorry.”

“I wanted to kiss you,” Maggie insisted. “You didn’t, no, you didn’t force yourself on me. You’re always so good about asking and checking, even when you know the answer is yes.” She paused; this wasn’t how she wanted this to go—hell, she’d never wanted to have to deal with this again in the first place. “I just…” she trailed off, trying to find the words for something she’d barely even let herself process. But then she felt the familiar tingle at the back of her throat, the burn as she tried to blink back tears she didn’t want to fall.

Alex’s arms were suddenly reaching out, slow and tentative. “Can I hold you?”

Maggie nodded, letting herself be held, letting herself be pulled into Alex’s lap and cradled against her chest, letting herself be wrapped in the soft fleece blanket they kept draped across the back of the couch for movie nights. And she cried—cried in a way she rarely allowed herself to cry, rarely wanted to cry.

Alex didn’t ask for an explanation, didn’t ask Maggie to tell her why she’d been defensive around Rachel, why she’d thrown herself at Alex, why she’d broken so soon after. She just sat, holding Maggie to her chest, offering her tissues she could just barely reach behind them, brushing the hair back away from her eyes and face, offering her tea when her ragged breathing finally began to slow, gave her a hand to hold on to as she finally began talking.

“Rachel, um, she was an ex. You know that. But she, uh, our relationship—it wasn’t, it wasn’t healthy.” Maggie tried to give herself permission to say the words, but somehow it still felt like betraying Rachel’s confidence, like she was the one somehow doing harm. She tried to listen to the words of the therapist she’d seen for a few weeks before deciding it wasn’t for her, tried to remember the woman’s soothing reassurances that she had every right to name the abuse for what it was, that those feelings of guilt were feelings that Rachel had tried to instill in her, to keep her with her, to keep her from saying something. “It was abusive,” Maggie finally blurted out. Seeing the look of shock then anger pass across Alex’s face, she quickly tried to mitigate the claim: “It wasn’t physical. I mean, she didn’t, like, hit me or anything. And it wasn’t…I don’t know, it wasn’t rape. It was just, you know, the assumption that if I was hers…there were certain things you just did in a relationship,” Maggie shrugged.

But the look of anger on Alex’s face didn’t lessen at Maggie’s clarifications, didn’t fade at her explanations. It faded only when she turned to look Maggie in the eyes, her expression turning to one of nothing but love and care—though a love and care that burned with a protective streak a mile wide. “Maggie,” Alex began, her voice quiet but assertive. “You don’t owe anyone anything. You owe me nothing but what we have decided together, and those things are still negotiable, they’re things we choose together, day in and day out. You owed her nothing. And, I don’t know, I’m sorry if these are things I shouldn’t be saying. I don’t know. I just, I don’t like hearing you act like something was your fault. Because I get that, god, I fucking get it. But with you, I can see how much you don’t deserve that blame. No one deserves that blame.”

Maggie dropped her head into the crook of Alex’s shoulder and neck. She knew that with anyone else she would have yelled or scoffed at this point, told them they didn’t understand. Of course, she hadn’t exactly told other people, but she suspected as much. But with Alex—Alex, who was almost too earnest for her own good—she let herself believe it, let herself feel like she deserved someone like Alex, someone who treated her better, someone who respected her, someone who believed her. And she knew that doubt would return, but she also trusted Alex to be there with her through it, to hold her hand and kiss her softly and promise that they could work anything out together.

“Do you want to talk any more about her? About what happened?” Alex asked. “I can heat up the tea.”

Maggie shook her head no at first, though she still let Alex get up and heat up the tea. But when Alex came back carrying a tray, she began talking, suspecting that if she didn’t get at least some of it out now, she never would. “She just, at first it seemed sweet. Like, she was really protective of me. And after everything with my family, it was…nice. It was nice to have someone who cared that much. And she would get a little jealous, but, I don’t know, we’re supposed to find that endearing, like it’s some sign that someone likes you enough. But then she would get mad at me if my classes ran late or if she saw me meeting with my friends without her around. I don’t know. It just kept getting worse, like, nothing I did was enough to show her that I loved her. And when we finally broke up, she kept telling me that I wouldn’t find someone new or anyone who loved me like she did. And, I don’t know, maybe it’s stupid, but I believed her. I believed her for so fucking long. And sometimes I still worry that one day you’re going to realize I’m not as great as you thought, that you could do so much better.”

Biting back all of the rage she felt for this woman who had dared to make Maggie believe those things about herself, who had dared to hurt the woman she loved like that, Alex held her closer. “I promise, you are worthy of everything, Maggie. You deserve the world and all of the happiness and good things in it. And I know I’m not perfect, and hell, a lot of times I think that you probably deserve better than a thirty-year-old who just pulled herself out of the closet and is still trying to figure out so many things. But I know I want to fight for you. And I know you make me want to be a better person, to be good for you. Because you’re wonderful, Maggie, and all of that shit—you didn’t deserve any of that. And I can only imagine how strong you had to be to pull yourself out afterward. But I also want you to know that I’m here for you. You always tell me that there’s strength in asking for help, or asking you to be there for me no matter how much I think I can or should do it on my own. And I can do that for you too, Mags. I promise. Anytime. And if I’m doing something wrong, you can tell me. I want to know. Because I love you. I love you so much, Maggie Sawyer.”

“I love you too,” Maggie whispered. And she knew there was more to say, more to process, but for now, she just let herself be held, let herself be lulled to sleep as Alex whispered promises to her about their future, about healing, about growing together. And for now, she let that be enough.

[psykoz]

Alright here we go! before anything else i wanna say. im a gay man whos survived csa so im not just pulling any of this out of thin air. and also obviously tw for mentions of abuse, murder, childhood sexual abuse, and just whatever else u would expect in an essay abt eddie gluskin.

Eddie is clearly gay and repressing his feelings in a very very violent way. obviously i do not condone the murder and mutilation of so many people in and out of the asylum, as it stands by the time he died he was an inherently bad person, but a) all of this was brought about through circumstances that couldve been avoided and b) i think he could have been a genuinely different, better person if he lived thru waylon exposing murkoff.

So. eddie was born in 1966/1967 according to the wiki. this means he grew up in the 70s, was a teen in the 80s, and most likely was already in custody before the 90s. growing up in a time when it was still illegal in parts of america to be gay, and being a teen during raegan and the aids crisis, if eddie was gay it would make perfect sense to say that he would most likely repress any gay tendencies he might have, but thats not all. he had, at some point, been sexually assaulted by his father and uncle. that really, really warps a childs perception of sexuality, whats right and wrong, he would have attributed anything between men with what happened to him so getting feelings for other guys wouldnt exactly make him happy.

He clearly has an attraction to men. regardless of if hes trying to 'turn' men into women, hes still showing an attraction to men and expressing that he finds men pretty. hes only the bare minimum of what he thinks it takes to make a woman (which obviously is a whole can of worms on its own) but even then, he really only trying to do what is absolutely necessary for children to be born and raised. i dont doubt that if eddie ever magically succeeded in at least not killing one of his victims, for the most part they wouldnt look any different. he doesnt try to change anything else on his victims as far as we know, which indicates he likes the way men look.

Now lets go a little further! eddie hates women, his dialogue and his file express that he is misogynistic which is also bad and i also dont condone. again, hes a bad person as far as canon goes. i theorize that its a combination of growing up at the time he did with the type of family he had, as well as another form of repression. hes taking his own internalized homophobia and taking that self-hatred out on women, who he resents for not being attracted to like he thinks he should be.

Now for the type of family he had. eddie is the poster boy for good old fashioned 50s husband in his head, he tries to play the part of the perfect suburban nuclear family but kills all of his brides. eddie was born in the second half of the 1960s, by the time he was old enough to start actually comprehending life it already would have almost been the 70s. He had to pick up that perfect ideal from somewhere and most children, obviously, at least start out modelling themselves after their parents OR their parents expectations. which means either his family was the perfect, 50s style nuclear family, or they pounded into his head that he needed to aspire for that. theyre old-fashioned based on eddies age would likely have gotten married in the 50s. if thats true, that only gives more reason for eddie to repress gay tendecies. i seriously doubt a family like that wouldnt be openly homophobic.

Now. eddies file says that his csa was well documented. there was evidence on film and yet he believed his childhood was 'leave it to beaver' like. repressing memories can work like that, but usually it doesnt. you just have a block of time thats completely gone, or youll remember things that happened leading up to an event but not the event itself. even when a survivors brain does warp their perception, its usually not that drastic without outside influence. eddie had to be straight up gaslit by his parents/uncle while his brain was repressing those memories, probably as an attempt to keep him quiet and keep him from going to the police or getting the attention of social workers. on top of that if film from his childhood was presented to him as an adult who had already murdered multiple people, that meant that whoever owned the film kept it, for a long time. He didnt just suffer from sexual abuse once, it had to be multiple times and it had to be humiliating, scary, painful, and worst of all he had to be gaslit into thinking nothing was wrong.

So what would have happened if eddie lived? Well eventually murkoff would have gone down, eventually all of the variants would have been removed from mount massive and take been given actual help. and i think bc of the morphogenic engine, for the most part the variants wouldnt even be considered for going to court, they would have just worked on rehabilitating the variants and then seeing how they do from then on out. the obvious first steps for eddie is getting him to calm the fuck down and not kill anymore. then work on his really fucked up hero complex, wanting to bring a child into the world just to protect them and give them a better life than him. i could honestly see him being given a psuedo-child to take care of, like an animatronic doll, while he worked through a lot of his emotional issues. he could find comfort in the doll, and it would give him motivation to actually be a better person and not have violent outbursts.

i think the next big step from there would be addressing his homosexuality and his hatred for women. this would also have to involve his childhood, so of course that would have to come after eddie already had a base of mental stability so he wouldnt fly off the handle like he did after his arrest, when being presented with the evidence of his csa. hed have to learn that what his family did isnt his fault, that he isnt gross or wrong for experiencing feelings and attraction to men, that it isnt womens faults he doesnt love them, and most importantly that what he feels towards men is not comparable to what his father and uncle did to him. this would be a very difficult time for him and would involve a lot, a lot of backpedaling with his progress, it would make him volatile again, it would probably be one of the hardest parts of eddies healing. during this time he would most likely swing between violently hating anyone he felt like he had the wrong feelings for (women hes not attracted to as well as men that his is attracted to), and being borderline obsessive towards both men and women. on top of that, theres no way around that to get over his internalized homophobia and his misogyny he would have to unrepress his memories of his csa.

But do i think eddie could ever heal? well. yes and no. nobody ever fully heals from traumas like that, and he has a lot of traumas to deal with even without the morphogenic engine fucking with his head and drawing the worst out of him. hed always have to live with the guilt of what hes done, too. but i think he can get better. i think anyone can get better if they try, and i see so much potential for eddie to try. he does, genuinely care about children and that could be a huge motivation for him, as i said. it would take a long time and hed still struggle for the rest of his life to keep himself stable but yes! i think eddie could, at some point, be stable enough to live in an apartment, have friends, have a life. he just needs to constantly be working for it.

I wish outlast were more popular bc i have some really spicy hot takes abt eddie gluskin

[thebigbibee-blog]

New OC ayyy

Alright so here’s a teeny bit of art of my OC Jamie.

Age: 19

Gender: Nonbinary (They/Them)

Sexuality: Pansexual 

Height: 5′1″ (My smol child)

Likes: Hair dye, piercings, flowers, pink, pretty girls

Dislikes: Abuse, their parents, bullies, vegetables

More backstory (tw abuse (physical and emotion as well as drug abuse) and transphobic/homophobic material under the cut)

Jamie was born into a very rough family life. Their father was abusive and their mother was always chasing some sort of high. This combination led to them leaving their home at the age of 13 to go live with their grandparents. However, when they came out as pansexual and nonbinary, they were forced out of the household to live on the streets. They have little trust in men, as both their father and grandfather beat them from a young age. Despite this horrible upbringing, they grew to be a strong independent person.