#especially since those things I’d be accused are triggers of mine

[cosmiclumalee]

My favorite Kirby pairings 💘

I think we need to make it clear that I ship Elfilin and Forgo, because I like interpreting it as a system relationship, not as siblings.

As for Flamberge and Francisca I made a post about it in my main blog.

[olderthannetfic]

So I’m writing a fic that’s basically a vent based on my experiences with an eating disorder, since I’ve found that writing about it really helps me, and since I put so much work into it I thought I’d post it. However, idk how the majority of fandom would react to it and I was wondering if anyone else has ever published a fic with heavy ED + no recovery content. I’ve read ones before with a nice happy ending but mine is… really not. It’s pretty graphic and in detail (I deliberately tried to make it as grotesque as possible, especially with drug use, addiction, binging and purging etc., things that are part of EDs but aren’t restriction like most people think of). In the majority of the story the main character sees nothing wrong with their actions and they’re enabled by the people around them.

I’m worried that I’m going to be accused of “glamorizing” eating disorders or something like that. I’ve seen that accusation thrown at creators that I like who write, draw or film content about their experience, which is really disheartening and not at all encouraging for an ED-d person : (

--

Those people will accuse you no matter what you do. Delete their comments and block them on any platform you can.

I'd be more concerned about the ED symptom/behavior triggering potential, but that's easily covered by some tags saying there's graphic ED content inside.

[tiffanytoms]

Okay, so I was gonna let this review just rot where it was, but — as “Rebecca” intended — obviously I can’t stop thinking about it. And while I’m an adult who can’t get insulted out of a fandom and shamed from creating the art I wanna share, maybe the next person they try to come for will be silenced bc of this one person’s warped point of view and their insistence on spreading the superiority of their personal beliefs and boundaries. And that’s dumb — especially since they seem incapable of reading a warning.

Drama ahead. 🌶

Big sigh. Biiiiiiiiiig fucking sigh.

First of all, I want to say how frigging stupid this is, because I know me and this girl are on the same side even if she’s too holier-than-thou to see it. We’re both attracted to Jily for a reason, and one of those reasons is we’re not all those things she just superficially accused me of.

Second, this review is just so pretentious and condescending that… dude. I mean, I guess it’s no surprise that she read something that upset her on this forum, but instead of addressing it here, she anonymously wrote a review on FF and not AO3, because one allows for responses and one doesn’t. I can infer that she didn’t want an actual dialogue or nuanced discussion about the topics she brought up, but instead just wanted to lecture someone and feel better about herself. That much is obvious, but here we go anyway.

I acknowledge that anytime you have to start an argument by saying “I’m not racist or antisemitic like you just implied” you’ve already lost — something I’m sure she was well aware of, because this seems like an accusation she is well versed with leveling to try to win the moral high ground — but I’ll start with that bc, ffs, obviously I’m not, and I don’t condone any form of racist or antisemitic behavior. We just don’t live in the same reality where a fanfiction written of two characters from Harry Potter fucking each other all over the castle (which is literally the entire premise and point of the story…) mean such a thing. Like, wtf man. What type of twisted, trigger-happy universe does she live in? Stories can exist for purely hedonistic purposes and don’t need to have a moral. This isn’t a children’s book — it’s an adult fiction that was labeled and tagged as such.

And I don’t normally talk for other people (but I don’t think they’ll mind in this case), but I don’t think that either my readers or I are friggin nazi sympathizers for enjoying a story where a good girl fucks a bad guy (a premise as old as time). Again. For fuck’s sake. Saying such a thing is super insulting to people who actually have to deal with issues like fucking nazis. (Have your minds all melted from the stupidity of this all? Bc mine has.)

She asked me to consider what I’m writing, but I’d ask her to consider the slander she’s slinging. Because these insults aren’t just directed at me, but everyone who might have enjoyed a bout of escapism — perhaps from some of the very same shit she’s pretending she cares about and wanted to virtue signal every chance she got. (We get it. You think you’re a “very good person” and people who enjoy kinky sex are not.) But she forgot: it’s a flipping story. No one is getting hurt, it is meant for pure, unadulterated enjoyment. She knew she wouldn’t like it, but she read it anyway. She even acknowledged this fact in the first line of her review when she said that to her, Jily was inherently good. Great! Then don’t read a fic where one of them isn’t!! I think she came in wanting something to be mad about (and again, make herself feel superior) and then was glad that she found it so she could flaunt that feeling. So, at the very least, I hope writing that review gave her whatever she wanted out of the confrontation. No really — I do. Because that she’s trying to stifle someone from making art means she’s probably dealing with some shit, and I really do hope whatever she’s going through gets better. Because she said she didn’t understand why I wrote this fic, but girl, you’re just like the main character: you knew something was going to be bad for you… and you did it anyway. That is the entire premise of EW. So… maybe reading it helped her come to terms with herself a little bit? 🤷🏼‍♀️ One can hope.

More on the original point, I can’t believe I have to explain such a thing as perspective, but here it goes: how people interpret themes and characters, and whole fucking dramas that they’ve made up in their heads, is not how other people do. I’m glad she cares about such things as social justice — I really am, and more people should care in the real world — but trying to shame people out of what turns them on is not the way to achieve those goals. It’s a waste of her energy and mine defending myself when, AGAIN, I know we’re on the same fucking side. She isn’t making the world a less shitty place by making people feel ashamed of being turned on by the two people they want to see fucking, fucking. She’s just not. If she needs me to elaborate that further, she’s probably a child that shouldn’t be reading this kind of story (condescending remarks that make false assumptions about you aren’t fun, are they?) or an adult that knows that kink-shaming is no longer socially acceptable, but is still having a really hard time putting that principle into practice — opting instead to be a performative ally and merely say she’s cool with kink.

“This is just two people with extremely questionable morals fucking.”

Yes!

Yes!!!! Exactly as I said it would be in the warning!!!!

Exactly what some people wanted to read and enjoyed reading and shouldn’t feel ashamed for having done so!

“How is this any better than, say, Snily, Jegulus, or Drarry? Everyone claims to bash those ships while … writing a version of that?”

This is such a bad faith argument, but I’ll bite. For the first part, I spent 200k words describing how it’s different (your prejudices and superiority complex are really showing with your phrasing there…), so if you want to comprehend that, feel free to hate read it again. For the second claim… you make a lot of assumptions about others, but no I don’t bash other ships, I let people live their lives free of judgement. It’s not that hard.

“What I do not understand is why the same smut couldn’t have been with, like, good Jily?”

………. Because the whole premise is she wants to hook up with someone that she shouldn’t want to. Like. “Okay, why can’t you just have your story without the plot?” What kind of question is this 🤯 I already wrote canon Jily. If morally dubious content is not your jam, don’t read it, but don’t shame people for wanting to read something different than everything else out there with their Jily. How I write Jily doesn’t threaten you.

Also, just… the audacity to read an entire fic you claim to hate, and then complain about something that was in the prelude the whole time. I mean… I just?? 🤨 I warned it was not a romance, I warned it was an unhealthy relationship, and seriously? Lily turns out to be a bad guy that rules them all, so I dunno man…

Take your puritanical pearls and go clutch them somewhere else.

👋

[dontcare77ghj]

Contracts

WHAT DO YOU MEAN TUMBLR DELETED THIS? ISTG!

Bucky x reader x Steve x Sam

Non-reader POV

Maria didn't want this baby. The timing was terrible, her situation worse, and with her declining mental and physical health, there was no way she'd be a good mother.

Maria had never wanted to be a mother. Her ex-husband was deplorable and wanted a baby to better his image. Her mother always said once she'd grow to love her child, but as Maria's due date neared, she began to hate the life inside of her.

Maria loved the finer things, and her ex-husband had provided her with the life and luxury she desired. But now she had run, she was forced to live in poverty and thus triggered her plan. 

There was a house on the outskirts of town she had run to. The locals spun many tales about the inhabitants of the house. Some claimed the two sold their souls to the devil and cursed the locals. Some said a woman danced naked in the nearby wood. But many said they helped, made deals with the locals, providing services and acts no-one could explain.

When Maria made it to the house, she was surprised at the normalcy of the cottage-like home. She was more surprised, especially after the stories she'd heard when a normal woman opened the door.

"Hello, Maria." The woman smiled kindly. "My name is Y/N. I think you'd like to come in, wouldn't you?"

"Yes, please." Maria nodded, not asking how she knew her name. Y/N gestured for Maria to enter and led Maria into a small kitchen. "Buck, we have company!" 

"Who's this, doll?" A man asked, coming in from the back door. 

"This is Maria." Y/N introduced. "She wants to make a deal." She added as he wrapped an arm around her waist.

"Ah, business." The man nodded before holding a hand out to Maria. "I'm James. It's nice to meet you, Maria. Who are you here to make a deal with?"

"I'm willing to barter with whoever," Maria answered, subconsciously scratching her arm.

"I believe she'll be bargaining us both, Buck." Y/N told him. "Let's sit." Y/N said, gesturing to the table. 

"Alright, how can we help you, Maria?" James asked as the three sat down. 

"The baby," Maria started. "You can have it. Eat it, sell it, raise it, I don't care. I've heard plenty of stories from the town, I don't know which are true, but you can have it."

"I see," Bucky said slowly. "And what do you want from us?" He asked, taking Y/N's hand.

"I want youth. To turn back the clock, be young again, and not sick." Maria told the two. 

"That can be easily arranged." Y/N nodded, eyeing Maria carefully. "But you do know a deal with us can't be reversed." Y/N told her.

"I understand." Maria firmly said. "You can have the child. I don't care what happens to it. I just want my youth and health back."

"You have a deal." Y/N said as Bucky nodded. "Since health is more James's area, I'll take care of the youth."

"What do I have to do?" Maria asked.

"Your deal with Y/N requires a simple blood spell. However, I am not a witch." Bucky started. "I'm an incubus, so any deal with me is of a more sexual nature." 

"I don't care." Maria shook her head. "I'll do whatever I have to."

"Good, because if you're making a deal with us, you follow our rules." Y/N told her. "I don't care what you do afterward, but while you're pregnant, you stay away from drugs and alcohol."

"And you don't have any unprotected sex," Bucky added.

"It's not like I can get more pregnant." Maria scoffed.

"No, but you could get something," Bucky said. "Those are our rules, you follow until the baby is born. Do we still have a deal?" Bucky asked her.

"Yes. We have a deal." Maria agreed.

And that was the night Maria traded her baby for youth and health.

That was supposed to be it, but Maria could be greedy. Her mother had been a spiritual one and used to claim she could see all sorts of creatures.

One thing her mother would nearly screech about seeing was the fae. She'd spoken about the signs that they were around so often, Maria could never forget.

It was two weeks after making her deal with Y/N and James that Maria began noticing the signs.

Maria used to doubt her mother's ramblings, but given the deal, she'd made with a witch and an incubus, nothing was impossible.

So, she left offerings. She left cakes, honey, fresh fruits, old jewelry, and odd trinkets.

Three days later, she was proven correct when a blonde man sat inside a ring of mushrooms, munching away at the cake. 

"You have a lovely taste in cake." The man said, wiping away crumbs. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." Maria stammered.

"Why are you summoning me?" The man asked. "Most people don't even know we exist."

"My mother said fae made deals with luck." Maria began. "Is that true?"

"It is."

"I'd like to make a deal," Maria stated, taking a step forward. "A trade." "I'm listening."

"You can have my baby if you give me luck. Good luck." She clarified.

"That is a steep trade." The man mused.

"One I'm willing to make," Maria assured him. "The child for luck." 

"I can take this deal, but I'm going to need you to not leave me any offerings for a while. Feed yourself and the babe. You're too thin." He said before stepping out of the circle. "I'm Steve."

Maria didn't think Steve's deal would work considering Y/N and James' claim to the child. She wasn't thinking when she traded the child again to Steve in return for luck.

But she was definitely thinking when she found herself at a crossroads. It had taken many long nights and days, doing constant research to find what she needed for the ceremony. Anyone could contact a crossroads demon, but Maria wanted the best.

"The only humans I come into regular contact with are hunters, but I don't think you're a hunter, are you, Maria?" A man asked, appearing behind her.

"No." She shook her head, trying to not show her fear.

"Let me guess you want to make a deal?" He asked, circling behind her. "Brave little human." He mused after she nodded. "Most try to avoid the King of Hell, not summon him."

"I'm not most people," Maria told him.

"I can see that." He grinned. "Well, go ahead, little human. Present your deal."

"Immortality for the babe." She said bluntly. 

"You would sacrifice your child for immortality? A piece of yourself for more years on this miserable planet?" He asked, raising a brow at the woman.

"Yes. The child is yours. To do whatever with." Maria said firmly. "I don't need to ever see it again. All I want is immortality."

"I can see you have your heart set on this." The King said, pursing his lips. "Fine, we have a deal. The child is mine after you give birth, and then I will grant you immortality." He confirmed, holding out his hand.

Maria didn’t hesitate to take his hand in her own.

Maria's due date had finally come. Y/N and James had taken her in for the last month, intending to care for her and wanting her to give birth in their home.

Maria had been in labor for several hours now, and it was finally time. 

"One more push, Maria. He's almost out." Y/N coaxed, kneeling between her legs.

Maria let out a loud scream as she pushed, and suddenly, her cries were joined by the baby.

"Oh, he's perfect." Y/N cooed as James wrapped a blanket around the baby. The two were focused on the squealing babe until there was a loud whoosh and a flash of light.

"Who are you?" James demanded, standing up and in front of the women and child.

"I'm Steve, and I'm here for the child." The blonde said, taking a small step forward.

"Unlikely." The other man scoffed. "I am Sam, King of Hell, and I was promised that child." He introduced, strutting forward.

Maria didn't hear much else before she passed out from exhaustion.

Reader POV

"She's in the spare room," Bucky announced, entering the living room and standing beside you.

"Excellent. Now let's get down to business. Give me the child, and I will leave." Sam said from where he leaned against the wall.

"I don't know what the two of you were promised, but we traded with Maria months ago." You said, clutching the sleeping babe to your chest. "He's ours."

"So she gave you a meal?" Steve scoffed, causing you to hiss.

"How dare you? We're going to raise him, you pixie-" 

"I am a fae. Don't you dare compare me to a pixie." Steve snapped, rising from his chair.

"Gentlemen, lady, I have business elsewhere to attend to, if I could please just have my child," Sam said, pushing off the wall.

"We're not going to let you hurt this baby," You said, narrowing your eyes at the demon.

"Now who's making accusations?" Sam asked, raising a brow at you. "For your information, I have no intention of harming him." He promised, raising his hands.

"Why do you even want this baby?" Bucky asked him.

"Security. My position is consistently under threat, and an heir would secure my reign." Sam informed the room. 

"So you want him for political gain? He's a child." Steve said, crossing his arms.

"I understand that!" Sam snapped. "I didn't just make my deal for that. Hell is a lonely place. A child would be a great companion. And why do you want him? Do you plan on exchanging him with one of your own?"

"No, that wasn't why I agreed to Maria's deal." Steve sighed. "I saw a woman who wasn't looking after herself or her child. I wanted to help him." Steve said, gesturing to the sleeping bundle.

"As did we," Bucky said, wrapping an arm around you. "Maria was in a bad place when she came to us. She was using while pregnant, and she seemed desperate."

"We've always wanted a baby." Y/N added quietly. "I can't have children, and no adoption agency in town would let us adopt. But we've always wanted one."

"Look clearly, the two of you want the baby more, but I can't reverse my deal," Sam told you. "It's binding."

"As is mine," Steve said. "I couldn't take it back even if I wanted to."

"So, how about we come to terms on an arrangement." Sam began. "We each have a claim, and we've each grown attached to him, so we co-parent."

"And how do we trust you won't run off with him?" Bucky asked him.

"Because we'll make a deal. We make a deal, all of us, using whatever method we did with Maria. We bind ourselves to each other and the child." Sam explained.

"We'd have to schedule who he stays with and when," Steve said after a minute.

"And communicate clearly with one another." You added.

"We can add any constituents we have to to our deal." Sam agreed. "The point is he's our child now, and we raise him together. Do you agree?"

"Yes," Steve said.

"We agree." You chimed in as Bucky nodded.

"Now that we've agreed on this, there's only one thing we have to decide on." Bucky started.

"And what's that?"

"What do we name him?"

Maria had disappeared that day. Gone from the guest room, with no note and no clue as to where she had gone. In the two years since none of you had heard from her.

The four of you had been raising Anthony, Tony, for two years. The four of you had spent hours working on your agreement as to how you would co-parent him. 

Eventually, you would all come to an agreement you were all happy with. It was hard at first. The four of you clashed more often than not and argued about how you were supposed to be raising Anthony.

The arguments continued up until Tony's first birthday. For some reason, the four of you were able to overcome your differences and become closer as people.

Today was Tony's second birthday. Steve and Sam had arrived at yours and Bucky's where you set up a small party for the boy.

You'd all spoiled Tony absolutely rotten, despite the fact he probably didn't know even know it was his birthday. Your genius son had been gifted all sorts of toys, books, building sets, tools, and other presents that caused him to laugh in delight.

You'd just laid Tony down to bed with the hell-hound pup Sam had gifted him, which curled around him protectively, before joining Sam and Steve in the living room.

"Tony's all tuckered out." You announced, sitting beside Sam and taking a glass of wine from the table.

"You think we went a little overboard?" Steve asked, sipping his own drink.

"Don't think so. Besides, Anthony deserves to be spoiled." Sam assured him.

"Of course you would say that. You got Tony a dog." You teased the demon.

"You all agreed to it," Sam smirked. There was a loud sound from the kitchen that caused the three of you to tense.

"Buck? What was that?" You asked, standing quickly.

"Nothing!" Bucky called back. Putting your drink down, you turned to the two men.

"I'll be right back." You said before moving into the kitchen. Bucky was hunched over the kitchen counter, eyes closed, and gripping the countertop tightly. "Oh, Buck." You cooed, moving towards him. "I didn't realize it had been this long."

"My fault," Bucky grunted. "Forgot." He added as you stood next to him.

"I should have realized. Your thoughts are kind of screaming right now." You said.

"We've both been busy." He said through gritted teeth. You reached out and put a hand on Bucky's shoulder, only for him to pull you to his chest. 

"Buck." You gasped as he pushed a thigh between your legs. Bucky smashed his mouth to yours and kissed you violently. It was all teeth and tongue as Bucky forced you further into the counter.

"Did you forget you had company?" Sam suddenly asked. You pulled away from Bucky, who began biting at your neck, to see Sam and Steve in the doorway.

"Bucky's gone too long without sex." You said breathlessly. "His demon side is taking over."

"We could take Anthony and give you two some privacy." Steve offered.

"Or you could join us," Bucky said, pulling away from your neck, causing you to whine. "Don't think I can't see you, watching this," Bucky smirked, pushing his thigh into your center.

You let out another loud whine at the movement, causing Sam to smirk and Steve to burn bright red.

"I'm not going to deny anything," Sam said, stepping forward. "I'm always down for an orgy. Hell knows how long I've wanted this." He added, brushing his thumb down your cheek.

"Are you in love with us, Samuel?" You teased, cutting yourself off with a groan.

"Can you blame me, little witch?" Sam asked. "I'd be a fool to not fall for the three of you." He said, turning to Bucky and pulling him down to kiss the man.

"Are you okay, Stevie?" You asked, turning to the man still standing in the doorway. "You don't have to join if you're not comfortable." 

"I want to," Steve said quickly. "But when we made our deal was the only time I've slept with more than one person. And we weren't exactly focused on pleasure then." He added, taking a small step forward. “I might not be good at this.”

"We can teach you." Sam offered, pulling away from Bucky, who whined lowly. "Do you want us to teach you?"

"Yes."

"Come on over here, Stevie." You said, crooking a finger in his direction. "We'll teach you everything we know."

The four of you had spent the rest of the night satisfying Bucky's demon side, teaching Steve all you could, and attempting to keep quiet enough you wouldn't wake Anthony.

Eventually, the four of you had migrated back into your bedroom, where you all fell asleep.

As you began to wake up, you noticed fingers were lightly trailing down your side. The motion was slow and soothing, you noted before opening your eyes to see Sam looking down at you.

"Morning." Sam greeted with a smile.

"Morning." You responded. "Where are the other two?" You asked, noting Steve and Bucky's absence.

"Making breakfast. They'll be back in a minute." Sam told you. "We have some things to talk about."

"Yes, we do." You said before sitting up. "Pass me your shirt." You demanded of the King.

"Why do you need my shirt?" Sam asked, handing you the item. You'd just pulled the shirt on when Bucky entered with Anthony in his arms. 

"Look who's awake." Bucky cooed as the toddler reached for the two of you. 

"Good morning, baby." You said, taking him into your arms. Anthony immediately began babbling as Bucky sat on Sam's side.

"Steve said he'd join us with breakfast while I dealt with this little demon," Bucky told you, reaching over to pinch Tony's cheek.

"Cutest demon I've ever seen," Sam commented as Tony played with his fingers.

"How much have you three already talked?" You asked the two without looking away from the toddler. 

"Not much. Enough to know we need to talk." Bucky promised you.

"We wanted to wait until you were awake before we talked about anything," Sam added.

As Sam finished his sentence, Steve entered the room with four trays floating behind him. 

"Alright, who's hungry?" Steve asked, directing the trays to the three of you, with one staying by his side.

Tony began to chant 'me,' causing the four of you to chuckle. 

"You are? Well, that won't do at all." Steve teased, gently taking him from your arms and seating the toddler on his lap. "Alright, how do we start this conversation?" Steve asked as he began to feed Tony.

"Well, I don't know about the two of you, but Bucky and I have been talking about last night for a while." You admitted, cradling a mug of tea in both hands. "Ever since the night, we agreed to co-parent."

"Not exactly what happened last night, but that was the desired outcome," Bucky added. "We'd hoped to take the two of you out before we slept together again. But if the two of you don't want to go further or think about last night, we can forget about it." 

"I said it last night, and I'll say it again, I want this," Sam assured the rambling man. "I have been alive for thousands of years and been alone for most of them. I have never once felt alone with the three of you. So yeah, I want this. I want to be with you all, I want to raise Tony with you, I want this."

"Steve?" You asked, turning to the blonde. "Where do you stand on this?"

"Shouldn't you already know?" He teased, causing you to laugh weakly.

"I don't know anything right now." You said, looking down. “It’s kind of annoying actually.”

“I want to be with the three of you too.” He said, moving a hand away from Tony to take your hand. “I didn’t know you could fall for three people at the same time, and it really confused me for a while there, but there’s no other way to describe it. I’m in love with you three.”

“I know it might be a little too late now, but can we take we make you two dinner?” Bucky asked, causing Sam to chuckle loudly.

“Never too late for that, Buck, never,” Sam said, patting the brunette’s thigh. “I’d love dinner.”

“So would I.” Steve nodded. 

Tony took that moment to draw attention back to himself by clapping loudly. 

“Are we entertaining you, Mr?” Sam asked, holding his hands out for the boy. “At least you enjoyed our emotional struggle.”

“You don’t need to cry, mom, I’ll be back before you know it.” A fourteen-year-old Tony said, pulling you into a hug.

“If you think she’s crying, you should have seen your papa last night.” Bucky teased, wrapping an arm around Sam.

“Don’t be a dick.” Sam scoffed, hitting Bucky in the chest.

“Language,” Steve said as he stood next to you and Tony. “You know you need to let go of him, sweetheart.”

“I know. I know.” You sighed, pulling back from your boy. “You know you can always change your mind about this. You’re still young, you don’t need to go to college now.”

“I know, mom, but I want to.” Tony nodded. “I want to do this.”

“Okay, but say the word and we’ll take you home.” You said, hugging him once more before stepping back.

“Come here, kiddo,” Steve said, pulling Tony to his chest. “You’ve earned your place here, remember that. No-one can take that from you or how proud we are of you.” 

“I know that, pops.” Tony nodded into his chest. Steve stepped away and Bucky as next to hug your son. 

“Don’t do anything you don’t want to do, okay, Tones? You’re still a kid, and should still have fun but nothing you don’t want to do. Don’t let anyone pressure you into something you don’t want.” 

“I won’t, dad. I promise.” Sam was the final person to pull Tony into a hug.

“Remember we’re closer than a phone call away. If you ever need us, we will be there before you can finish our name. Your mom and I will know if you need us, and we will always be there.” Sam told him.

“Thank you, papa,” Tony said before pulling back. “Okay, I’m ready.” He let out a long breath.

“Knock ‘em on their asses kiddo.” Bucky encouraged. 

“We’ll always be proud of you, and we’ll always love you, Anthony. Go show them what you can do.” You said.

“I love you too,” Tony responded. “I’ll call you soon, I promise.”

“That’s a verbal contract. We’ll remember that one.” Sam smirked. 

“Have fun, Tony,” Steve told him.

“I will.” Tony nodded. Tony gave the four of you one last look before he walked into the dorms behind you.

“He’ll be okay,” Sam assured you, wrapping an arm around your waist. “He knows how to handle himself.” 

“Of course he does. Look at who his parents are.” Steve teased as he took Bucky’s hand in his own.

“I know. I just already miss him.” You said.

“He’s making his own way in the world, but he’s still our baby, doll. Always will be.” Bucky promised you.

Yes, yes, he would.

Taglist

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[ziracona]

What do you see happening after Josh is being rescued? Does he meet everyone of his friend eventually or some of them keep their distance? I read one of your answers about them abandoning him and honestly I don't think they didn't care at all about him, but the events were so traumatic and scary that they probably had a hard time taking into consideration that small possibility of him being alive. Plus I guess it's also part of the smooth flow of the game if it makes sense, Mike doesn't go after Jess either after he sees her falling into the mines and accuses Josh of killing her without being 100% sure that she is dead and without seeing Josh around when shit happened to her. But if I were Josh maybe I would be upset knowing they didn't come for me at all. So how would a reunion go?

That’s valid! You can interpret the lack of an interest in rescuing Josh to multiple things—that they are very sure he’s dead, if you want to be as generous as possible to them. That they think he’s probably dead and are afraid of dying too more than willing to save him, that they’re (sans Chris) too mad about the prank he pulled, etc. And I can see why people would go for any number of them. I think to me it has always read like they think he is probably dead, and the whatever he has, 30%, 20% chance? Of still being alive just isn’t enough for them to feel motivated to face very likely death to go hunting for him, especially with flamethrower dude just dead doing the same. Which makes /me/ angry, because Mike went batshit after seeing Jess wounded and dragged through a window and more trying to save her, multiple characters can kill themselves trying to save the others in the finale, etc, and I just think if you /can/ save someone who is your friend—or like, you have a shot anyway—you don’t know it is too late. You should. (& true Jess can still be alive and Mike will assume she is dead, but in his defense, so do basically all blind playthroughs she looks like she falls four stories or something while already almost dead I can’t fault Mike for assuming that was a 100% death there. Boy really tried. Whereas Josh’s vanishing from the shed is much less confirmed. There is no ‘I watched him fall’ here. Just a neither he nor his dead body were still in the shed so /something/ happened). Like I do get it, that’s a terrifying situation and not helping doesn’t = not caring, but I will hold it against characters if they don’t risk themselves to save their friends and I will be unhappy with them. Loyalty is very important to me. But it is a truly terrifying situation.

But I also get why they’d be terrified to go out there. I don’t think it makes them evil to not want to risk it till they have to, it just makes me disappointed in them. I don’t think I said I think they didn’t care about him—typo if I did, because I certainly don’t think that at all! I think Chris was traumatized and felt very sure he was dead, Ashley didn’t care (she explicitly says she thinks he deserves it and tries to stop Chris from saving him the first time), Emily doesn’t care a lot one way or another and is mostly on her own trauma right now and thinking about Matt and the awful shit she saw, that Sam does care but thinks he is probably dead and is in team mom mode and cares more about trying to keep as many friends alive as possible right now than anything else and doesn’t want to lose the others, and Mike is still pissed but also feels very bad and would prefer for Josh to make it but is also more focused on group survival and not losing anyone else since he just lost someone he loves horribly (based largely on how his reaction to the safe room scenario is either to kill Emily and feel awful but do it because he very vocally and visibly doesn’t want the others to be killed and she won’t go peacefully, and he’s terrified of losing them, or to try but not be able to because he loves Emily, and instead give the gun to the others to try to save themselves with in the event she /does/ turn). And although he’s a right coward bastard for leaving Josh if Josh gets grabbed instead of killed, down in the mines, I do think he cared about Josh. He seems truly sorry to some extent when he finds him, and does /try/ to lead him out of the mines. At the point they make the decision to go for the cable car key, I don’t think they don’t care at all, except Ashley. I just think they should care more. Although I tend to give Chris a pass because he just watched a man get beheaded, has strong reason to think Josh is dead, is injured, and spends the entire rest of the game more or less in traumatized mode quiet in the corner.

But that said I can also see why people would interpret the reactions to mean they all believe he is very dead, and mean they’re going after his corpse! I can see lots of basis in-game to interpret in quite a number of ways. And be generous to the fool kids if you want to! I /super/ hold abandoning Josh in the mines wildly against Mike, but Mike is still one of my favorite characters in the whole game. I love how flawed the cast is and that you go in hating most of them and only slowly grow to care because you don’t want them dead-dead, which keeps you there long enough to see some of their good sides. *cheff’s kiss* the great ability of the horror genre. The bar to initially invest is so low, it lets you have such a multi-faceted cast.

Okay anyway, original question! What do I see happening after Josh gets rescued and exorcised.

I think he meets up with all of them again eventually. Interesting to think from Josh’s pov how he’s going to feel. I expect to some degree he does feel abandoned, and fairly, and in RoB it is very clear he is afraid to some extent of Mike and Chris after being dragged off and tied up and left in the shed, and the things they said to him. He also /definitely/ feels massively guilty and self-blaming about all of it. He’s telling himself through Hill that no one will come for him and it’s his own fault by the final chapter. And mostly he’s just afraid of Mike and in ptsd dissociating mode by the time Sam and Mike find him. So, mixed feelings on his part I expect. Lots of fear and pain and hurt at being abandoned and so universally believed capable of murder, hurt, left to die alone in the mines. Pretty damn betrayed, and that on top of the hurt from what happened to his sisters and the inherent paranoia of paranoid schizophrenia. Hurt that they just left him. Hurt they didn’t believe him. Hurt nobody came for him until it was too late. Hurt he got betrayed again. Probably pretty miserable overall. But with that, also feels really bad about going too far and hates and blames himself intensely for everything, and I expect is also kind of not just traumatized but ashamed of what happens to him, and everyone knowing about the possession and the cannibalism. Probably he wants to lock himself in a room in the corner of a big house and never come out. But also is intensely and miserably and hopelessly lonely. Probably feels all of his friendships are likely broken beyond repair.

I don’t think they are though. Chris “I’m not your bro” six seconds later “bro are you for real?” Hartley almost dies trying to save him and wouldn’t care about the possession stuff except to be worried about him. Sam is angry and harboring some resentment, but clearly reacts to Mike reporting he is gone with regret. Mike would probably feel very guilty for leaving him and be hesitant to reconnect and then defensive doing it, but I think he cares. Jess wasn’t even there for this shit so probably she does. Same for Matt maybe? Ashley and Emily are harder to guess for. I think Ashley would be incredibly angry and resentful—I mean she wants him dead in-game, but might eventually join the others if the others got over stuff? Bc she’s also kinda a joiner? Really it’s hard to say she is a very...hair-trigger character. Volatile and intensely and massively changeable. Probably the least predictable of all. That kind of person scares me deeply in real life because I have been very backstabbed by them before. >.> But anyway hard to say. Also a lot of this depends on what ending, even assuming they all live. But I usually assume that like, Mike almost shot Em, didn’t, Matt tried to save her, Sam saw the workshop, etc ending. Emily I really don’t know. She’s a very self-reliant and hard person. She didn’t have anything very specifically for or against Josh with her experience, but wasn’t that close to him before, so I think she just kinda falls wherever she falls.

I think mostly though that they’d reconnect. Definitely Chris would jump to it, and I think Sam would too—she’s a well educated, empathetic and understanding person. She’d know he needs her. And Chris is his childhood best friend and cares the whole game. I think Mike would try to go too because of guilt, and because he’s a decent guy. Probably so would after not much time those least effected by what Josh did. I think Josh would be alone while being exorcised and probably reocvering in a hospital some after, and Chris would be the first, or Chris and Sam possibly. I think he’d be afraid to see them, and it would be complicated and messy and painful for them all, but it would be okay and sort itself out and they’d find old ground quickly. And having them there would be /incredibly/ vital to helping him recover. I think eventually he’d get back on his feet, and a lot of his old friends would be around and stay in his life. I think things would get better. I’d say the OG ExorJosh comic writer I think did a good job of guessing about what a lot of it would be like. Hard, and slow, and messy. But a lot of them care for him, and I think that would matter enough to help things get okay between them again.

[witchcraftingboop]

Re: Jbird & RainS. (Briar) Discourse

Previously, I have spoken with the person who made very serious allegations against JBird, calling him a racist, that were then used by others to spread slander against him. They have since apologized and admitted that JBird isn't a racist, and I genuinely think there was a stark miscommunication that went on to prompt such a claim. I don't want to name them or involve them here, since I do believe they've already reflected enough on the situation at hand, and is still deeply considering the multi-faceted hornet's nest of problems they've stumbled upon.

However, in light of the blatant dismissal and refusal to submit actual proof against the two, I feel as if I should share the information I offered this person before.

If you are basing your arguments against Jbird and Briar off of the previous, separate Discord group discussions of Trio & co. - screenshots of which have been, and continue to be spread years later, by Prim - then I especially implore you to be open to what I have to say. As a third party to this continually and rapidly spiralling debacle, I feel like there's not much I can say or do to assist my friends in being heard, but I feel as if I ought to try. Prim's following is large and actively prepared to follow her "do not interact even to ask questions" policy, so I worry it may be too late already. But I am not without hope or faith.

Tumblr is, unfortunately, a place where hate spreads rapidly, and while I do love the broad community it fosters, I am also aware that, even with the best of folks, it is hard to see the side of someone you've already decided is guilty and not worth approaching for an explanation.

First and foremost, I believe in innocence until proven guilty.

Now then! Onto my offered commentary/input! (Sorry to prattle on so much.)

To start, thedesertgod, also known as Trio, did go through and look for her personal information, which is messed up. But that person has already apologized, if I'm remembering correctly, and left Tumblr. And the other main user who helped spread information about Prim being a race faker also admitted wrong and left. The others in the chat, particularly Mystic and Ronan appear to just be making jokes and stating factual informative summaries, respectively. E-muete also said "ok no" after the Dolezal comment, which is a common "no that's too far a comparison/joke/statement" substitute among their forums and chats and often means they don't actually agree with what they themselves said. Ruby also politely reminds Trio that it's impossible to tell someone's race off of their appearance alone. So what I see here is definitely problematic, but entirely on Trio's part. I'm not saying it's not screwed up to find pictures of someone's parents and debate their race, but the persons who did those things have already left the Tumblrsphere.

Unfortunately, the people you've pointed out don't have a good history with Prim even before the whole "Trio nitpicking her race" thing. Prim used to follow more than a few of them and use their posts to fuel her platform, oftentimes creating uninformed mish-mosh articles with a voice of authority that simply wasn't warranted. As I'm sure you're aware, it's hard enough dealing with people stealing your content word for word, but to attempt to steal your knowledge? Your initiations and rites of passage? And use them to sell yourself as a master of a breadth of practices? The tradcrafters of that particular circle decided to band together and block her from interacting with them directly for that very reason. And because of that, Prim started telling her followers that they are all racist and elitist and ableist and gatekeepers. These terms over the years have become almost like triggers in that once they're said, everyone seems to put on a blindfold and fall into a frenzied rage. And to be fair, Prim is far too quick, in my opinion, to bring up racism as the reason others disagree with her. Most times, I've noticed at least, that if she calls someone racist or says they're unsupportive of POC, she nearly immediately brings up BLM activism in her posts or reblogs. I'm not saying I necessarily support calling all of her activistic inclinations performative, but where the tradcradt group she calls racist is more than willing to talk of and show proof of their contribution, Prim never has and avoids it if asked. I can see both sides, really. But the fact remains that calling someone performative in their actions, does not a racist make. Neither, in my opinion, does interacting with people who are assumed (without real and concrete proof) to be racist.

I can appreciate where you're coming from; honestly, I can. People have grown accustomed to hearing the prefix trad- and preparing for the worst. Racism is a systematic and prevailing problem in the society all around us, so it makes sense to be on the lookout for it. You want to protect yourself and your community. I can understand your sentiments perfectly. But I cannot support "guilty by association" viewpoints. As a WOC who grew up in some rough areas, I have seen boys killed under that very same reasoning. Jbird is a good friend of mine, and I have never questioned his morals or ethics. I have seen no sign of my being looked down upon for the color of my skin, nor anyone else who runs in that very same circle.

What I see is what I see in a lot of faces on this hellsite: hurt. Before Trio and after Trio left, the tradcraft community has been slandered and ostracized. They have shut themselves off to outsiders for the very thing you've done to Jbird just yesterday. They hold their secrets closer than most other communities now because persecution is seemingly forever at their door. On Prim's end too, there has been struggle and pain and needless arguing and hurt. If those you approach seem prickly, it is often because the world has roughened their edges, not because they personally are against you.

I asked for a couple examples from the group and one person (I'll keep them anonymous because I didn't confirm they'd like their name here) said: she has talked about saint magic (trio), hadean pamphlet (trio), hubris (Ruby), fairies, trad craft shit (Mahigan among others), etc etc

From what I personally have seen, her most recent was the Witch Fire podcast. A few tradcraft blogs had a debate/discussion about Witch Fire and its traditional eurocentric foundations in witchcraft not that long ago, and then Prim decided to put out a podcast that was so uninformed, I'm still worried about how younger or newer witches might be hurt by it.

Unfortunately the tradcraft community is vulnerable to that kind of thing [being called names or falsely accused] and an easy target. That's why being called those kind of harsh words - like gatekeeping, elitist, racist, and ableist - are met with so much anger from them. I take it very seriously because I've seen the kind of whiplash it has, especially on such a closed off group.

[A Reply.] Yeah no, Prim "apologizes" by talking about how she's been previously given a hard time with interjections of "but please don't go around spreading hate" and never directly apologizes to the tradcrafter in such posts. Unfortunately, her "apology" did more harm than good. I was hoping she'd just ignore it but . . . This tends to happen too 🤦‍♀️

I think that if both sides were able to approach it as openmindedly as you have, there would be a lot less drama and in-fighting on this app 😩 I really did enjoy talking with you though!

That just about covers everything I'd like to say on the matter.

I do not condone spreading hate, just as I don't condone misinformation or blind allegiance to what one person says. So if you can respectfully and openmindedly address your questions/comments/concerns, I don't see why you can't interact with Briar, Jbird, or myself. I understand it's easy to get caught up in the first perspective you're given, but it is my hope that Witchblr as a whole can be more open to hearing both sides of the story. Blindly blocking and cancelling certain bloggers is something I don't support nor encourage. I understand Prim must be tired of addressing all of the drama that churns around her, so I won't speak as to what her reasoning could be for suggesting such a solution. I'm simply stating what I hope for the community as a whole.

| | Note: The statements above were written early (I think, my sense of time is off) yesterday, and as of yet, I have still seen no concrete evidence that Briar or Jbird have ever made racist comments. On Briar's part, I have seen her observation that activism on a performative platform such as Tumblr can come off as performative, but she never once said she doesn't know or see why Prim would support and promote BLM activism. Something I think was misconstrued and lumped all together to sound as if she thought Prim were faking her contributions altogether. | |

[konglindorm]

Write What You Know

I frequently write what I know. I write about fairy tales, which I’ve been studying since I was a child. I write about high school and college, which I attended. I write about church, about characters with mental illness, about camping and cats and families that love each other. And I write about things I don’t know—princesses and romantic relationships and living in tiny cottages without modern amenities. But there are some things that I don’t write specifically *because* I know them. Some things, I’m just too close to.

I’ve never written a character that’s specifically bipolar. I’ve never written a character that deals with the specific romantic issues and experiences I’ve dealt with. I can’t.

Often, authors will say “I want to read a book like this,” and the responses they get are usually along the lines of “Well, write it, then.”

The books I want most, the characters I could relate to in the most meaningful ways—I can’t write those. It would be too difficult, too painful, and even too dangerous.

At this point, you may be wondering, how can writing something be dangerous?

When you are mentally ill, at least, writing something very personal can be extremely risky.

When I was 21, I wrote a novel featuring a protagonist who dealt with a lot of the same mental health issues I had dealt with, by that point in my life. I wrote this during the year I spent in one of the lowest spots I’ve ever been in. Now, there’s a discussion to be had there about correlation and causation. Writing this story didn’t necessarily trigger a breakdown—it’s entirely possible that already being in a bad spot is what inspired me to write about a character in similar circumstances.

But I am absolutely certain that writing that story worsened my mental health in that year. Because this was what I was writing about, writing ceased to be an escape—I went to hide from my real life, and found myself deep in the headspace of a fictional character who was even worse off than me. I always get very entangled with my protagonists when I’m writing, especially if I’m writing in first person, as I was at the time.

My protagonist started the book with an eating disorder. I ended the book with an eating disorder. And, to be clear, I’m not accusing a figment of my imagination, or the process of writing about her, of making me anorexic. But I’d been dancing around the edges of disordered eating for at least five years at that point. I’d known that I was the kind of person who was at risk for developing one. And I do believe that sharing headspace with an anorexic character is a large part of what finally pushed me over the edge. I do still write about mentally ill characters, but I never let their problems come quite that close to me. They’re on good meds when I start writing them. They have problems similar to mine, but not quite the same. I certainly will never again write a self-harm scene pulled directly, exactly, from my own experience.

That was….that was bad.

A very real danger of being a writer with OCD is that you become obsessed, very easily, with whatever you’re writing. My stories consume me. And when I was already in a bad place, continuing to work on that story made everything worse.

I’m still really proud of that book, but none of you are ever going to read it, because I’m scared that thorough revisions would pull me back into that bad place.

I want to read stories about characters who deal with the same really serious, intense stuff I deal with. Reading those stories gives me a few hours of relief, which is the exact opposite of what writing them does. I need to see myself in fiction—I think we all do. But there are parts of myself that I, myself, can’t put into fiction.

I spend a lot of time writing what I know, but I can’t write what I know best.

[poppyluxe]

i wanted to talk about my own experience with toni / taylor / swiftofrph / margotofrph / admin baby / quinn etc. around the time of 2013 - 2016 ( phew plz be patient with me as i’m not great w/ writing things out so i’ll try make it as clear as possible ! )

i must admit that taylor and i had a friendship that for a while i really appreciated. i cared about her a lot, which is exactly why her behaviour was so triggering and somewhat traumatising towards the end of our friendship. however, i have made a few friends through this experience that i am so fucking grateful for. i just wanted to put this out there for those who run groups and/or those who are joining groups, who want to know what kind of person she is/was, and to be wary, lest she proves that she can change her behaviour. 

( tw; writing adult content with minors )  -  i met taylor in a smut roleplay group when i was sixteen, so it would’ve been 2013 i think ?? there were no age restrictions in this group, as i was sixteen at the time, and my best friend, who was fourteen, was also in the group. taylor was a legal adult at the time, yet interacted with the both of us, and often pushed me to complete her ships and write heterosexual smut - mostly haylor - with her despite the fact it made me uncomfortable. i was young, anxious and eager to please, so i’d give her the ships she wanted, so that she’d give me the ones i liked in return. ( i was wrong to have been in that group but at the time i wasn’t aware of how dangerous it actually was. i was very naive at this point in my life, and due to trauma i wasn’t very good at noticing red flags. )  i don’t think i really realised until recently that she was one of the many people in the rpc who would roleplay sexual content with me being a minor, and with my characters being minors too. ( i don’t have any reason to believe that she would do such a thing now, but the fact that she didn’t find it questionable then is very strange to me. the second i turned 18, i instinctively knew that it was fucking creepy to smut with anyone younger than myself at that time. )

she’s proved herself to be incredibly ignorant over the years i knew her. at some point she was suggesting latinx names for my white characters, and pushing me to join roleplay groups that ‘would be okay with lesbian characters’. the wording of this threw me off, because even then i was under the impression that every group should be okay with LGBTQ+ characters. she also allowed a straight, cis female character into a sapphic-centric group so long as the character pretended to be gay.

she dismissed my mental illnesses, and implied that i ‘drove people away’ with the way i worded things in the ooc. she knew me for years, and knew about my intense anxiety and the social awkwardness that came along with it. ( i’ll admit i’m a little at fault here, but as an admin she should have tried to be a little more understanding, especially as someone who suffered from anxiety herself. )  

she allowed bubble roleplaying and didn’t make an effort to resolve the issue. there were several times i was excluded from her group i was a part of and she did nothing to prompt people to reply to my posts or interact with me. it was very cliquey at the time, and when i brought up these issues she called me impatient and told me to ‘wait for people to reply’. the issue wasn’t people taking days to respond, it was that people weren’t replying. period. she made me feel guilty about wanting to drop my characters due to lack of interaction. 

SHE ALLOWED CONSTANT HARRASSMENT + BULLYING FROM OTHER GROUP MEMBERS. this was what caused me to end the friendship with taylor.  taylor had a friend join the group not long after myself who went by the name heaven. i’d plotted with heaven, and after two dead threads, i didn’t interact with them again because i was socially awkward and figured i’d annoyed them. until they interacted with a starter of mine, in which their character made an advance on mine, which mine reciprocated. days later, without having interacted with heaven again, their character was accusing mine of sexually assaulting them. from this point onward, the gossip blog was full of hate towards my character that was all very obviously from the person who went by heaven - though it wouldn’t surprise me if taylor was involved in this too. i told taylor and the other admin about this multiple times. the other admin wasn’t much help but she was definitely more sympathetic than taylor. taylor didn’t even give heaven so much as a warning, and they were allowed to continue their harassment for weeks until they got bored of bullying me and left. it didn’t last long, however. taylor then allowed this same friend to come back under a new alias. it wasn’t hard to figure out it was them, since their writing style was the same, and the second they joined the group, their character was harassing mine, and once again the gossip blog filled with hate for my character. a good deal of the messages were also subtle digs at me as a person also, which was devastating.   taylor allowed this to happen. and basically implied that it was my own fault because my character had a mental illness, and it made her unlikeable. she once again let this harassment continue for weeks, maybe even months. from this point onwards, i tried to avoid dealing with taylor. 

THIS WAS A TERRIBLY HORRIFYING AND TRAUMATISING ORDEAL. i have an array of mental illnesses, and she essentially allowed people to push me to a breaking point. even though she didn’t directly harm me, she was actively participating in it by allowing it to happen in a group that she was in control of.

i was so anxious to be on tumblr that making an indie was incredibly difficult for me. i was constantly worried about taylor making an indie under a different alias, and risking the chance of having to interact with her again. 

while i can’t speak on her behaviour now, i can definitely speak on how she’s behaved in the past. i believe that people can change, but it certainly doesn’t seem like she’s made much of an effort to. i can only hope she learns from this experience, educates herself and treats people with a little more kindness. 

[awkwardtaco056]

so now that i’m no longer in the Hell that was school and after finding the lovely blog @endcringe i’ve decided to talk about my own experiences with cringe culture, bullying, and why it’s Really Bad to not let people enjoy inherently harmless things, especially neurodivergent people (read more because this is gonna get long and triggering at times, TW for mentions of bullying, suicide, child abuse, a brief mention of incest shipping. I won’t be naming any of the peers that I discuss my experiences with, because my point with this post is Not to “cancel” anyone, I just want to speak out on my experiences)

I’m neurodivergent; I was diagnosed with ADHD when I was 8 years old. I didn’t know a lot about it, and a family member even painted it as “oh it’s nothing blah blah blah just apply yourself more. Because of this, I had no idea about the concept of hyperfixations until I was in my late teens. Due to that, I would obsess over random things and my family would shame me relentlessly for it. My mother said I had an “addictive personality” and that she feared I’d end up a drug addict or alcoholic because of it.

I look younger than what I am, I’m short, and small. AKA, the perfect candidate for being picked on by people bigger and stronger than me. People made fun of my art when I was around 13, but fortunately that was an instance where spite fueled me to improve drastically. However, just because I happened to take the shitty comments and have it fuel me then does NOT mean bullying people will have that effect all the time. At some point someone put my old South Park fan art on a cringe blog. I was temporarily hurt, and a little angry, but I realized that if someone was making fun of a 15 year old’s art, they probably didn’t have much going for them in life, so I moved on.

Fast forward to high school. Everything was horrible and I’m not exaggerating when I say I barely made it out alive. I was living in an abusive household up until January 2018 and I found comfort in many different interests. I’ve always found great comfort in music and the arts in general. In 2016, I drew a picture of a mermaid. I was inspired by the chocolate opal gemstone, and I thought it’d be fun to draw a gay chubby mermaid with dark skin and a rainbow tail and freckles. Junior year was lousy and I wanted something that sparked Joy. I was immediately told that “scientifically, mermaids wouldn’t look like that. Mind you, my take looked like this:

Obviously I wasn’t going for realism, I just wanted to draw a cute mermaid. However, they continued to tell me that they wouldn’t look like that, going as far as writing so on the back of said drawing. When I got angry at her for taking it too far (as I’d established before that I didn’t like it when people wrote on my art without permission), they got angry back, accusing me of being unable to take criticism. Heated by the accusation, I went as far as asking my art teacher if it was fair for them to say that, and she said no, stating that constructive criticism would be talking about how I could improve my lineart and coloring in the digital version. I took her actual helpful criticism and since then have improved Drastically in digital art. Even with that being said, I found myself hesitant to participate in things such as MerMay because I was leery of hearing that peer berate me for having cartoony mermaids. 

 During high school I grew to love many musicians, a lot of emo/alternative stuff, a couple being Twenty One Pilots and Melanie Martinez. I love how unique TOP’s style is, their open discussion of mental illness, and as someone who had a rough childhood, I connected with every single song on Cry Baby. It was like nothing I’d ever heard. I started listening to mashups featuring all these different artists I love, adoring how they could change the tone and sound so drastically. A peer Bully of mine in junior year condemned these two artists, declaring that they made “Bad Music” simply because it didn’t fit their tastes. They’d throw my drawings on the ground, write over them in pen, steal my headphones so I couldn’t listen to music, push me around, complain that mashups sucked and gave them a headache, and in general shit all over conetnt that was actively preventing me from committing suicide. 

Some family members were no better. Once high school hit, I began listening to Fall Out Boy, Panic! at the Disco, and My Chemical Romance. Their deep complex lyrics stuck with me. I would write down quotes from my favorite songs and thanks to hyperfixating, I remember each studio album in order My mother resented when I fell in love with the “Emo Trinity” because “the Columbine  shooters were emo and that event traumatized me” Despite that, not only did the Columbine tragedy occur in 1999 and none of the bands got together until the early 2000s, but I have a pretty good feeling those groups aren’t For gun violence. The other side constantly criticized the fact that I love FOB, P!ATD, and MCR because I’m black and “why must you listen to that white people music.”

 I grew fond of Dan and Phil in high school (and I’m still a fan to this day!), I loved Phil’s kindness and positive aura and I deeply connect with Dan’s sense of humor and personality. Their content made me happy during some very dark times in my life. It’s November 2017, I’m over a close peer’s house at the time, and notice PINOF is upon us. I drew the PINOF whiskers on my face, my plan being to quietly watch them in the corner of peer’s bedroom on my phone through headphones, the others were doing their own thing and I knew they didn’t like them, so I thought they’d respect it if I silently indulged in it. Unfortunately, the complete opposite happened. I was immediately shunned and locked out of the bedroom, told that I’d only be let back in if I washed the whiskers off because “absolutely not”. Me, being stubborn, washed them off temporarily but drew them back on in the room. Life during then was especially bad for me, as the abusive household I was in was getting worse. They noticed, of course, and even though all I wanted was to enjoy this small tradition in a time during a deep depression, I was immediately shoved out the room and locked out, only to have said peer’s family members notice. I’m a relatively shy person, so this was honesty a really harrowing experience that had a lasting effect on me. 

I grew to adore Sanders Sides as well, but the moment I found out most of my peers didn’t like Thomas, I was terrified.  I stopped watching Dan and Phil’s content for months and shied away from other fandoms too, only occasionally indulging in times of complete solitude. One time when said peers were due to visit my house for the first time, I saw the Phandom and Fander stuff I’d hung up on my wall in my little sanctuary that was my bedroom (it was the first time in years I’d had my own room), and I was filled with panic and fear. I took them down and hid them away, genuinely terrified of what they’d do to me if they saw. It’s still incites so much anger in me to this day because they turned around and ended up shipping incest, but somehow liking D&P and Sanders Sides was So. Much. Worse.

They were baffled by my actions, despite having humiliated me Twice by going on a private blog of mine separate from everything so that I could fully indulge and laughing at everything on there, once at a peer’s house, once right in school. I don’t think they realized how traumatizing it was to have a large group of people in public laughing at something I was deeply self conscious about for all of my life. I put on a brave face at the time, but ended up crying in the bathroom after first period began. I continued to be treated as lesser until things came to an ugly head August 2018 when I ended up in the hospital because I nearly attempted suicide. Years of child abuse, bullying, and being deemed “cringy” made me feel like I didn’t deserve to be alive, that everyone would be happier if I were gone.

After arguably one of the lowest points in my life, I cut them off and slowly began to embrace the Real Me. I started letting myself enjoy the things again, made true friends and even found love, my first boyfriend ever at 18. I still get choked up retelling it, but when PINOF 10 dropped, after he found out how much I’d been hurt over the incident in 2017, I was greeted with a photo of him with the whiskers on his face. I cried for a while, blown away at such a pure act of kindness. He listens to me ramble about my interests, he compliments my taste in music, he watched K-12 with me. 

This got incredibly long, but my point is this: Cringe Culture hurts people. You might think it’s whatever if the Thing doesn’t apply to your interests, but content you’re denouncing as cringy could be something that’s keeping them alive, that one flicker of light in a void of darkness. When I was contemplating suicide, I listened to The Black Parade, repeating Gee’s words to myself over and over, that nothing in the world was worth hurting yourself over. Some friendly joshing here and there is okay, but actively ripping someone to shreds constantly to the point where they have a mental breakdown in front of you and later on plan their own demise is disgusting. Nobody should abuse anyone for having harmless interests, no one. Unless you’re participating in p*dophilic/inc*st/s*xual assault/inherently abusive ships/content and pretending it’s not bad because “Fiction doesn’t impact reality!”, you have every right to like what you like and be happy. Read homestuck. Play Undertale. Draw up the Wildest OCs you can imagine. And stay away from people who try to rob you of innocent fun, life is too short and in this cruel, unforgiving world, you deserve to be happy, whether you’re a 13 year old who draws cute furries, a 16 year old cosplayer on TikTok, a VSCO girl, a 30 year old who writes/draws self insert art or a 20 year old who adores Invader Zim. 

Cringe Culture is just bullying under a different name, and it can lead to many instances of people, especially fellow neurodivergent folk to feel isolated and ostracized. Attempting to bully someone out of an interest they have isn’t going to fix them; it’s more often than not going to cause more damage. I suffer from diagnosed C-PTSD, anxiety, and depression, and sometimes I still find myself trying to over-justify my interests. To all who are roped up in bad homes and lousy “friends” who berate you for your innocent passions, I’m sorry you’re suffering, things will one day get better even if it doesn’t feel like it, and fuck those people. I’d also like to note that sometimes even if it seems more terrifying, it’s better to have one or two close friends you can truly trust than a whole group that walks all over you. You have every right to call them out for treating you poorly, and if things don’t improve, you also have every right to leave.

You have a right to live your True Self.

[marlahey]

to the anon from last night re: maxence

the ask broke the read more again and my reply was massive so I’ve copied and pasted all your messages and my response below. 

side note does anyone know why the html for small text doesn’t work anymore??

[Not been on SM all week as seeing reposts of PoC murders is too triggering for me (I’m a 21 year old French black guy). Reading the stuff people wrote about maxence, all I have to say is that you and others were too focused on telling people off who were calling for action rather than fighting for black lives. People shouldn’t have sent them abuse, no. That was wrong, and most people have been acknowledging that. (Part 1)

[But axel at least uploaded a permanent show of support, whereas Maxence’s support has disappeared to his massive influence. It’s not a pedestal, it’s basic human decency in a time of crisis. Yes he posted petitions but they disappeared. Black lives don’t stop mattering after a 24 hour story. Please don’t police when black people ask for more from white allies in positions of power.

My Instagram posts get 100 likes, his gets thousands, and a permanent show would mean a lot, especially as France has such a racist history and present. Consider why people are asking for more before berating them for it, please. Not all who want to see lasting action are being rude, and while it’s great that he shared petitions, they only existed in his world for 24 hours, but the fight for racial equality lasts much longer. Consider that reality before dismissing critics of “putting celebrities on a pedestal.” It is not unjust for us to ask for action from people who in interviews frequently talk about their support for causes but don’t use the tools that best equip them to help. It’s great maxence went to the protest, I’m not saying he’s done nothing, but his most powerful tool is not his presence but his social media outreach and the thousands he could guide with a permanent link. Racism isn’t temporary. Please really consider this, and you’re own privileges, before dismissing people asking for help as being immature. Don’t lump everyone into the same boat. Don’t tar those with reasonable intentions with the same brush as those shouting abuse. Try and evaluate why your reaction was so blocked off to their plight. It is not unreasonable to ask those with power to help where they can, whether it’s money or SM reach or whatever you are equipped with. We have the right to ask for more.]

Hi anon. I appreciate that you’ve been away for your own health and safety, so I wish I knew specifically to which ask/post of mine you’re responding to. because I got several asks this week that devolved into lengthy responses; I’m hoping it wasn’t just the shortest post because I’d effectively run out of internet steam at that point and it does seem really dismissive outside the context of the rest of my blog/me as an actual person. that’s not my intention at all and I apologize if it comes across that way. I mentioned these things in another asks, but I’m not even sure how to respond to you now without trying to justify or validate my own actions to support the blm movement as an east-asian woman, my personal experiences with racism in canada and abroad – even literally in france as I lived there for a short period of time when I was 21 – or sounding like a jerk when talking about my first career as a teacher and my graduate education in media studies and communication. they frame a lot of my current thinking about the internet and celebrity culture, which I feel really strongly about even outside of this pivotal moment in global socio-political activism and black lives matter. but neither are the point here. to start, I completely agree with the everlasting nature of racism and the power of social media in general (stories vs post with a fucked up algorithm on insta is a whole other discussion, but I see your point in concept). I’m very aware of its impact and I would never purposefully suggest that you had no right to ask for support and allyship from those in positions of power – especially those who are white. I’m sorry again any post(s) of mine implied that. nor do I willfully accuse everyone who was calling for maxence’s more permanent support as being abusive or immature – I’m very able to separate the two and I obviously only condemn the assholes. asks that I personally received justified that behaviour with a ‘right motive, wrong message’ argument and a lot of condescension towards him, which is what I found more problematic than anything else they said. my personal expectations for any celebrity in the area of social justice (or general world awareness, frankly) are absurdly low. but that’s due to the lens of my own experience and education. that’s not to diminish or ignore their very real influence. I’m not sure how to phrase it without coming across like a complete weirdo, hipster, or porch sitting and fist shaking millennial, so I’m not going to try. I would also be an asshole to suggest that you’re objectively wrong in any way, because you aren’t. I have done this same labour for people in my own life, as someone who lives at the intersection of almost every minority qualifier – from woman all the way over to disabled person. but I’m still not a black person. I have a strange semi-privilege as the “model minority” (ugh) in a country where the most predominant and systemic racism is against an entirely different group of people. I feel like anything else I say about maxence specifically is going to sound like defending him no matter what, so I guess I can only talk about myself. social media and celebrities don’t carry real weight in my life. they don’t change the way I view anything besides the actual mechanisms of the internet, mass communication, and an ever-descending opinion of popular culture at large. but that’s a generally weird stance as a 28 year old so I try not to overly broadcast it. but it doesn’t mean these things don’t impact others. I enjoy what and whom I enjoy with a measured amount of critical thinking. I’ve had this blog since I was about your age, maybe a little longer, and this is the first time several people have genuinely come at me for innocuous tags or an offhand reply to a friend’s post despite a reasonably medium number of followers. it was a little overwhelming. that seems dumb to say but it was a hard week for a lot of other reasons, including the obvious, and everything felt a lot more intense than normal.  I don’t send anonymous asks ever, but there’s no other option than to publicly respond when you receive them, which means we have to have these discussions in a very visible way. that’s either great or not, depending on the ask. I’d much rather engage personally, but so is the internet. I would hope that no one who’s been following me since I was 21 would think as poorly of me as you may, or other anons have. but you don’t know me personally at all and that’s okay. it would be strange to say I don’t want asks at all because that’s the fun of community and interaction, but I guess I can only speak to my own thoughts on my own blog and they will be interpreted a million different ways that are out of my control. I accept that. I apologize for my part in detracting from a larger and way more important time in everyone’s life – especially yours. again, never my intention. I hope that you are safe despite everything that’s going on. if you ever need support, I’m happy to offer some. thank you for the conversation.

[bluepenguinstories]

Remoras Full Ch. I: Ray of Sunshine

Blankets of darkness spread across the Arctic, just as it did every night. Violent gusts of wind permeated through the air, and me? I was humming a nice little song.

See, I had too much to be joyous about. Even if a gentle darkness blinded all walks of life on the icy terrain, my spirit was as bright and warm as it could ever be. Just ask anyone, my wife, my patrons at the diner, they’ll all tell you how I just love a good rumor. Oh yes I do. Little legends cropping about, little anomalies here and there. Anything to scratch that itch. There was sure an itch as of late, too! Something about a certain bit of activity…

...That I was about to witness in action.

Call it intuition, a hunch, or the idea that I may have already known, but something was telling me to go ahead and sit down next to that huge chunk of rock next to me. As I crouched, I went ahead and removed my glasses, took out a handkerchief, and wiped the fog off. What a big mistake on my part. The utter fool inside me had awakened as while I took to cleaning, gunfire erupted.

“Ah, so I see it has begun,” I muttered, a grin spreading across my face. My excitement couldn’t be contained.

Off in the distance lay another person, also beside a rock. This other person had aimed their rifle at a pack of arctic wolves and took one out. My sympathies for the wolf would have to be extended, as that initial yelp of pain from that canine caused a tear to fall down my cheek. Something about cats and dogs, y’know? When they let out those cries of pain, my maternal instinct kicks in and I feel the strong urge to jump in and protect them. However, being as that I wasn’t a mom, and that instead, I was a dad, I would have to hold said instincts back. Besides, I didn’t quite want this hunter to know my presence yet.

So instead, I continued to enjoy the spectacle and gave my guilty conscience a rain check.

After the initial wolf went down, the pack scattered about and ran toward the hunter.

Glad to see they got protective instincts of their own. Saves me the trouble.

One by one they ran, but the hunter’s motions were quicker. The rifle reloaded and fired one of them in an instant. The other two, still toward the hunter, decided to split and take their chances charging at each end. Smart, if I do say so. But the hunter had a trick; the rifle itself split. Right in two it detached to form two smaller firearms. Just as she did so, that was how I knew I found who I was looking for.

Confirmed.

Sunny would be amazed at my findings, especially after she was so convinced that such a person couldn’t possibly exist given all that was logical in the world. Ah, but I said, “rumors don’t lie, honey bunches.” She then proceeded to call me “my sweet ray of sunshine” and the back and forth of pet names began. She would’ve said that she won, and she definitely won on the sweetness factor, but I think I got the most pet names in.

...What was going on again?

Oh right. Hunter. So, this hunter lady shot the wolves with her firearms, without missing a shot, and the whole pack then lie dead.

I watched as she reassembled her rifle, only to disassemble it further, piece by piece, and stuff it all into her backpack. Then, she stood, peering down at the massacre.

Her short dark hair blended in so well with the night sky, her multiple layers of heavy coats may have seemed peculiar to some, but it was the arctic. Some things you didn’t question. However, why she chose not to have her hood up was something worth questioning. Something that added to the mystique of it all and made you wonder if what you were seeing was instead some sort of ghost, or a monster out of folklore. But, as we all know, ghosts didn’t exist.

So, I picked myself up and made my way toward her, this living person, with slow steps. She either hadn’t noticed me yet, or was choosing to ignore me. Well, if it were the latter, I could understand. Her distaste of others was part of the rumors I so heard of this hunter.

“Bravo! Bravo! Encore, I say, encore!” I called out to her. That sure got her attention as she took to her backpack, reassembled her rifle, and pointed it at me, all in one quick motion.

“Whoa there!” For someone whose life was on the line, I couldn’t help being so jovial. I hadn’t been so giddy since the last time I cooked an elegant seafood dinner. All I could do was wish she hadn’t misinterpreted my excitement as hostility. “I come in peace, lady! All I want to do is have a little chit-chat!”

I continued walking, my hands up, a sign that I meant what I said. She must not have bought it. She lowered her rifle just a tad and fired, the bullet having landed just a couple steps in front of me.

I looked down and scratched my chin. Mhm. Was due time for a shave.

“I see. So you took out those wolves with no hesitation, but you’re choosing to let me off with a warning.”

“Correct,” she spoke. Her voice low, a sort of baritone drone. Emotionless sounded too harsh a descriptor, but cold? Ah, yes. There we go. Deep and icy. Just like where we stood.

“How merciful of you. I’ll be on my way, then.”

I turned around and started walking away, but I was really hoping that she’d say something like “wait. Tell me what you want,” but that didn’t happen. Oh well, I knew better than to conflate hopes and expectations. So, I turned my head. She remained where she stood, her rifle still pointed at me. What I expected was for her to have vanished into the wind. There we go. Double whammy. Neither hope, nor expectation, fulfilled.

Sunny had warned me about this:

“Hun, even if she does exist and is residing around these parts, why would she want to talk with you?” We had discussed one night when our humble establishment lay empty.

“Because, dear, as we all know, I am quite the charmer.”

“Mm...I’m not so sure about that,” she disagreed, but her voice was as perky as her spirit was. “But the idea that you think so is rather charming.”

“Oh, hun, you know me too well,” we rubbed our cheeks together. “So you ought to have a little more confidence. People ‘round here don’t call me a ray of sunshine for nothing.”

“That’s because that’s your name, silly-willy!”

“Oh, Sunny, my warmth, my light, what did our last customer say about me?”

“Hmm...something like ‘that Ray, always treated me like a close family member’?”

“Ding ding ding! You’re right on the money! You’re so smart, dear!”

“You’re smart!”

“No, you!”

“All right, all right. I’ll trust you. But this person sounds dangerous. I’d rather you not get any owie-wowies.”

“Promise! No owie-wowies here!” Thus, we proceeded to hug, rub our faces together, then we went our separate ways. Her back at the restaurant, me, off to find this rumored hunter.

Her gaze was burning into mine. That icy, cold stare. Damn, I sure had to work up my charms before I really did get an ‘owie-wowie’.

“Before I go,” I grinned. “I’m just a wee bit curious.”

“What?” She replied. I was taken aback. Not just that she replied, but how that one word sounded more of a continued threat than a genuine question. Ah well, I’d just treat it like it was one.

“About a year ago, a body was reported found atop the roof of a financial office building. Torso slashed open, dried blood, a matchstick in her mouth. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you?”

“Why would I?”

“No reason. If you don’t know, that’s okay. I’ll tell you a little more about the case. Seems there had been some fight that broke down. The body belonged to that of someone going under the alias of Clara Waters. There was a rifle, similar to yours, found at the scene.”

“Are you implying I killed this ‘Clara’ person?”

“Oh, heaven’s no! Besides, who do you take me for? Some kind of officer? Here to arrest you, am I?” I gave a bit of a chuckle. Couldn’t help myself. The idea of me working for such an institution. Ah, I may have been called a bastard once or twice in my life, but my interests lie elsewhere. “Besides, bold of me to imply that your existence would have anything to do with her death.”

“Well, lay your implications to rest. I have no interest in true crime stories.”

Was that a joke or something? If so, her delivery was rather flat. Still, had to roll with the punches.

“Don’t you think it’s the least bit peculiar that hers and your weapons happened to be so similar?”

She bared some fangs. If I wasn’t mistaken, I could hear a growl.

“Something tells me you were implying something, but not that I killed her.”

“Relax. I just came to chat, not here to make accusations.” Damn, it was hard defrosting this hunter, but I was giving it my all. “Maybe all I was getting at is that you knew the manufacturer of said weapon. Or maybe I just wanted to relay a tale to a stranger.”

She held her finger against the trigger, but didn’t quite pull it.

“I think I have more than a little reason to be suspicious of you,” she growled, a slight intensity raised to her snarl.

“And I of you, seeing as you just shot a pack of what is considered a protective species. Have you no shame, my lady? Couldn’t you find it in your heart to think of those poor animals and their species’ threatened existence?”

“They stole my kill. I’ll have to pray for forgiveness later.”

“So that’s what it boils down to?” I glanced to my right, where a mangled elk lay on the icy ground.

“I’m a hunter. I hunt for food. It’s what I do.”

“Very well, Ms. Hunter! Forgive this nosy house-husband!” I started to do a little spin, an eccentric act I seldom did, but my excitement was still in full effect. “I just have one more question: are you cold?”

She balked. “What kind of question is that? We’re out in the Arctic.”

“Mm...fair point!” I replied. I didn’t know what I was thinking with a question like that. Wrong time, wrong place.

I turned once again to leave her to her own devices. I waved a hand up in the air goodbye. Of course, an intense stinging sensation followed by a burst of pain and blood trickling down followed. She had shot me square in the middle of my palm.

It took every muscle in me not to break down and shout, to burst into a flood of tears from the pain. Oh, if Sunny were here, she’d chew me out for sure. But she weren’t, and I’d have to keep my dignity intact for when we reunited.

“You rubbed me the wrong way. Be grateful I didn’t aim for your head.”

I held my bleeding palm with my clean one. If the pain didn’t get me, the freezing temperature would. I took out the handkerchief and wrapped it around my wounded hand, then gave the hunter a weak smile.

“Ah, yes. I’m quite grateful for that. Very well, then. I thank you for this chat, and now I’ll be on my way.”

Just as I was about to part, the ground beneath us started to rumble and I could hear ice cracking in the distance. We both stared in the direction of the commotion: far off where the first wolf had been killed. There was a mountain beside the fallen beast, but that mountain soon split and what emerged was a splash of water, fish flying out onto the icy floor, and a beast taller than the mountain itself rising up.

Its fur a solid white, like snow. Like a polar bear. It stood bipedal, its fur standing on end, giving off the impression of a gargantuan arctic porcupine. If one were to assign a name, ‘yeti’ would seem most appropriate, but I felt it a disrespect to actual yetis (though being unconfirmed rumors, I don’t want to assume that they just exist), as this creature had facial features closer to that of a wolf, with sharp fangs, to boot. Then, there was the fact that this thing emerged from the ocean, as if some ancient aquatic being.

“Well, that’s a new one,” I remarked.

“Shit!” She hissed. “That was my last bullet.”

“Maybe this is one of those fabled frost giants from Norse mythology! Or, or, it could be something new! Something undiscovered! But it came from the sea! Like something aquatic! Fish, maybe? No, possibly mammalian? Or maybe reptilian! But a reptilian with fur? Hm…”

“Is this really the time to be ogling at that thing?” Her words fell on deaf ears. She just couldn’t understand.

“I’ve heard rumors of such a thing. Great creature that comes from the sea, defender of the arctic, but I never had any evidence to substantiate it!”

The creature roared a mighty gust of malice. We both shivered in our boots (yes, both she and I were wise enough to wear boots in these harsh conditions). Its face lowered as it peered down at the both of us.

I looked over to see her reach into her backpack.

“Maybe I could try taking it out with my fists,” she murmured, pulling out a pair of metal claws to attach to her hand.

Next to me, a shine sparkled on the ground. I recognized it as the bullet that pierced me and picked it up.

“You didn’t strike me as the reckless type,” I observed. “As if you could really slash something like that to death.”

“I have to try something,” she continued to murmur while averting my gaze.

“Maybe try using this?” I suggested, holding up the bullet in my good hand. She looked up and glared.

“Give it here.”

“Nu-uh,” I shook my head and reeled my hand back. “What do you say?”

“Really? We don’t have time for this. That thing is going to kill us both.”

“Oh, so now that it’s your life on the line, you want my help? How interesting.”

“Shut up!” She leaped forward, trying to grab it from me, but I swerved out of the way. “How about we make a deal? I give you this bullet and in return, you have to come with me to my diner.”

“I can’t believe I’m accepting help from a man,” I heard her say under her breath.

“Hm? What was that?”

“Fuck you. It’s a deal. Satisfied?”

I grinned. “Of course!”

I tossed her the bullet, which she caught, then loaded it into her rifle. As I waited for her to get it all set up, the creature took a mighty step, which knocked me off my feet. Just as the creature was about to lean forward, the shot was fired and landed right between its eyes. The force knocked the creature back and it fell back into the destroyed mountain, slain with a single bullet.

“Huh. For as big as it was, it was sure easy to kill,” I remarked.

“Get up,” she instructed. “As much as it pains me to say it, I made a deal. So take me to your diner.”

I grinned. Wherever Sunny was, I hoped she could sense the good news. Across land and sea, I was sending her the most positive of vibes.

We had made our way inside my humble establishment.

“So, Ms. Hunter, are you thirsty?”

“Got any liquor?” She groaned.

“Of course. All home-brewed, as well. We pride ourselves of only the finest--”

“Less talk. Ale. Strongest you got.”

I grinned. “Very well, Ms.”

In truth, the diner my wife and I owned was a little more than humble. Neither of us got to the position we were in by sticking with the ordinary. Back in the kitchen, there was a basement, which underneath, lie a brewery. It was the pride and joy of our establishment, and I figured if I were to show our hunter guest some hospitality, I ought to bring her only the finest.

“Now, let’s see...she wants the strongest...should I go with vodka, maybe? Whiskey?” Knowing her, she’d want a cold drink. But something that could knock her dead with alcohol poisoning, that was the tricky part.

“Ah!” The little imaginary flashlight above my head lit. I was at the very end of the brewery, with a giant keg that had a biohazard sign on it. “Perfect!”

Do I really want to kill my guest? Well, of course not! The biohazard sign was more of a decoration. Or, more there as a necessity in case one were to die upon drinking it and a lawsuit was filed. Think of such a warning label as a sort of unsigned waiver!

After pouring a mug of the infernal liquid, I brought it back up and served it to her table. She sat, her arms crossed, shivering.

“Are you cold, miss?”

“What do you think? We were just out in the tundra and you wanna ask me--”

“The heater’s on,” I pointed out.

“Still. We haven’t been in here very long.”

Heh. I was quite enjoying this. If only honey bunches were here to share in the pleasure of having such an honored guest.

She took a sip of the drink, then wiped her mouth.

“Vodka?”

“Only the finest,” I placed my hand on my chest.

“It’s okay, I guess. I’ve had stronger.”

I walked to balk at that, but then again, I wanted to believe she was bluffing. Yes. That would’ve been more likely, wouldn’t it? But the most likely was that she wasn’t bluffing, considering who she was. Or who she resembled, anyway.

“So cut to the chase,” she spoke after another sip. Her voice just as low and icy as before. “What business do you want with me?”

“Simple, really. My wife and I heard rumors of a peculiar hunter who roamed around these parts and we thought you would make a great addition to our team.”

“What? At this restaurant? That’s it?”

I sat at a stool, back to the counter, elbows leaned back against it, looking rather cool and laid back. “Hm...well, that’s not quite it, but...yes.”

“No.”

“She thought you might say that. She did say you were one tough nut to bust. Then again, I told her she didn’t quite know you. Then again, I don’t quite know you, either. We’ve just heard things here and there between the two of us. After an exchange of cutesy adjectives, I convinced her that I could get you to say yes.”

“You must be out of your mind, then. I’m a hunter, not a food service worker. I only cook the food I hunt, I can’t stand people, and I don’t care to clean anyone else’s place but my own.”

“Oh ho ho! That’s not quite what we had in mind!”

“What, like prostitution?”

I spat out. “What kind of person do you take me for?”

“You’re a man. I despise men.”

“Ah, yes. So I’ve heard.”

“There you go again. Saying you’ve heard things about me.”

“Mm-hmm. Maybe not ‘you’ you, but an image of you all the same. By the way, I didn’t think you’d have such dark red hair. Almost looks black. Rather, I thought you were described to have light blue hair.”

“People have said things about me, huh?”

I nodded. “Yep. How there’s some hunter about stirring up trouble, striking fear. All that silly little nonsense. I’m sure in reality, you’re more a hermit just trying to get by. Am I right so far?”

“More or less.”

“Some, particularly, in the criminal underworld, have spoken about someone who matches your description. Light blue hair, cold as ice, a seasoned killer, and poor social skills. Got me to wonder if there was something to that. If you might happen to be the infamous figure known as R--”

“Remora.”

“Hm?”

“I’m Remora.”

“Ah. So that’s what you’re calling yourself these days.”

“I just love how you can talk shit about someone you don’t know about.”

“Whoa! Easy there, killer!”

“The only thing I kill is fish. Sometimes elk, if I want a big meal. Wolves, if they happen to be trying to steal my elk from me.”

“Ah, you’re a fisherman. Er, sorry, fisherwoman. Also, that’s quite a few things.”

“Life out here isn’t always easy.”

“No,” I shook my head. “No it isn’t. Tell me, what are you doing around these parts?”

“I have a home I built for myself.”

“Somewhat of a hermit, are you?”

“I prefer my privacy, yes.”

“Perfect place for self-exile, as well. The Alaskan wilderness, Nunavut, the Siberian wastelands. All viable options to get away from everything. So then, why here?”

“What’s it to you?”

“Not much, really. You could say I’m just a cat waiting to get killed by my curiosity.”

“As if that wasn’t already self-evident.”

I gave a chuckle to that. Let it be known that Remora wasn’t without her humor.

“I like to keep a positive attitude about everything. Helps in such a bleak environment,” I smiled my warm smile. “Figure everyone could use a ray of sunshine every now and then.”

“Excuse me?”

“Oh, right. Ray Sunshine, at your service. Or as you could say, I’m just a regular Ray a Sunshine.”

“I’d rather not.”

“Excuse me?”

“Sounds too similar to my old name. I would rather just call you Mr. Sunshine.”

I wanted to spit out my (lack of a) drink (so spit...spit?) because of how funny that was. “So it really is you, huh?”

“I’m Remora. You could say I had a similar profession as this person you keep mistaking me for, but that’s behind me. I’m just someone who wishes to be left alone now.”

“Ah, forgive me, then.”

“Forgiven. At least you treated me to a drink.”

“Of course. My wife wouldn’t let me hear the end of it if I didn’t. Not after we both wished to see you in person.”

“Is that so? Where is she, then?”

“Out catching fish.”

“...What I should be doing right now,” she groaned.

“It’s a joint effort, you see. Running this place. She brings home the food and the supplies, take stock of inventory. In turn, I cook the food and serve the drinks and put the inventory to good use.”

“Sounds like she does most of the work,” she remarked and propped her legs up above the table. Then, she took another swig of her drink.

“If you wish to see it that way,” I smiled. Some may think I ought to be harder on her, but every guest is important to me, and she was as much a guest in this home as any other patron who may walk through the door.

“Here,” I pulled out my phone. “Wanna see pictures of me and my wife? We’re so adorable together! I just love her so damn much!” I started swooning just thinking of all the pictures we’ve taken of us together.

“No thanks,” she said, but I knew what she meant to say was “yes, of course! I just love such sweet sweethearts!” So show her, I did.

“What the fuck?” She remarked, that time it being her turn to spit out her drink. She wiped her mouth. “How did someone like you nab someone as pretty like her?”

“A regular Lancelot, are you?”

She shook her head. “No. I’m just stating facts.”

“Well,” I chuckled. “We were both high school sweethearts! We met on a sunny day, rays of sunlight hitting our faces as we stood on the bleachers after school hours. All the sports teams were off season, so we had the whole field to ourselves.”

Actually, that wasn’t quite how it was.

“Erm, to be more precise, we didn’t quite meet on that day. Rather, it was a rainy one, and I was alone that day, having heard about the fair in town. Being young and superstitious, I wanted to consult a psychic and ask if I could learn the secrets of the universe. While walking through the crowds of the fair, however, I happened to bump into a girl from my high school. We turned to face each other – me, a bespectacled lad with shaved dark hair, and a little bit of stubble, much like you see today, only a lot younger. Then there was her – a curly light brunette haired beauty with a fair bit of melanin and a smile that could light up the darkest of rooms.”

“Is this a long story?” She groaned.

“Of course not! Nothing is too long when describing the love between me and my sweetheart!”

Remora rolled her eyes. I went on.

“We introduced each other. ‘I’m Ray Sunshine,’ I told her. ‘I’m Sunny Reyes,’ was her reply. It was at that moment that we both knew we would be together forever. Do you believe in soulmates?”

She looked like she was about to open her mouth. I didn’t give her enough time to answer.

“Well, we were young, we were in love, and we were just a tad too superstitious for our own good. Because of our similar names, we became a couple and right after high school, we got married.”

“...That’s the most ridiculous thing I ever heard.”

“Maybe so, but love is a ridiculous thing!”

“I think I’m going to be sick.”

Just as Remora uttered such words, the front door opened and a gust of wind blew in. The wind wasn’t the important bit. What was important, or rather, the most important thing in the whole world, was who entered. My lovely little honeycomb herself.

“Hello, my ray of light!” She greeted, her words glistening with joy. Held over her back was an arctic lamprey which she must have dragged out from the depths of the seas herself. “One of our patrons requested this. You know what to do.”

“I’ll help you to the freezer, darlin’. After all, we have a special guest with us.”

“You don’t mean!” She gasped.

“I’m right here, you two,” our special guest groaned once more.

We both looked at Remora, wide-eyed.

“Indeed!” Both Sunny and I gave a synchronized gasp. The sign of true love. “What a catch, indeed!”

“That lamprey isn’t too shabby, either, my sunny day. I don’t think I’ve ever seen one so long!”

“Oh, and it was attached to a whale shark, no less! But the damn thing got away!”

“You two are disgusting. Being here is exhausting. Can I leave already?”

“Oh Remora, you don’t need our permission,” I crooned.

“But!” Sunny chimed in. “My husband and I would love if you heard us out!”

“Didn’t I already do that?”

Sunny, with the full strength of her luxurious beauty, threw the lamprey into the kitchen and I watched it land right in the sink. I knew such a gesture as “that fish can wait. We ought to talk business.”

“Remora, if you come with me, I promise my husband will cook you the best meal of your life.”

The hunter shrugged. “A free meal is a free meal, I guess.”

I beamed. I was willing to take whatever I could get.

The three of us walked together and behind the kitchen was another doorway where once opened, revealed the second half of the diner: our home.

What stood before Remora, Sunny, and I was a lobby. Rather plain, with a cubicle in the middle.

“Every independent business needs a side hustle, y’know?” I gestured to the secret beauty that was our home.

“What is this, an office?”

“Hehe, like a manager’s office? As it turns out, the only people who work here is me and my wife.

“I have been wondering about that. You mean you have no wait staff, no other cooks, no cleaning crew?”

“Nope!”

“...Do you even get any customers?”

“A few here and there. Researchers, long time friends, shady individuals in the criminal underworld.”

“What was the last one?”

I gave a hearty laugh. “We’re sort of a rumor, ourselves. Our little establishment, that is. The rumor of a diner in the middle of the arctic circle where a patron may request any dish and it shall be served. Likewise, a patron may request any little thing, in secret, and we may oblige, for a price.”

My wife must have sensed the air in the room grow stiff, as she spoke up. “Oh, but there’s nothing like ‘kill this person’ or anything else of the sort! Mostly, it’s just ‘investigate this place’, ‘find this ancient artifact’, et cetera.”

“So a sort of mystery hunter?”

“You may think of it as such,” I thought confirming such a thing would be a reassurance. “Of course, any request you accept and accomplish, you are entitled to a cut of the commission.”

“I have no need of money.”

“Everyone needs money. It’s just the world we live in,” I argued.

“My old job gave me more money than I ever needed and it still couldn’t cure me of who I am.”

She sure was good at dropping hints that she really was the one the rumors described. If I wasn’t mistaken, the truth was just as harsh as a world dictated by money.

“There are some things that do not go away,” I replied. “Like a persistent feeling you cannot shake. Or one’s past life.”

Remora nodded. “Then you can understand why my answer is still no.”

Heartbroken as I may have been to hear such words, I had to accept that such a thing was a definite possibility.

“I can, yes.”

Damn. She sure could make the air around her thick. If I wanted such a predicament, I’d have gone outside. But, the atmosphere was already what it was, and I had to respect a guest.

“It was nice to meet you, Remora.”

Both Sunny and I watch her take off. But something wasn’t quite right. I couldn’t just let her leave without letting her know where she stood with us. I ran after her, back into the cold.

“Hey!” I called to her.

“What?” Her tone sent chills.

“You’re welcome back any time! We’ll cook you any meal you want! Or, for the right price, we’ll fulfill any request you may have!”

She gave no reply, but I hoped she would have at least given a nod before she faded from view.

Once she was gone, I went back inside. On the counter of the diner was a note left by Sunny:

Dear My Ray of Sunshine,

Better luck next time, huh? Sorry, hun. Really. But I still think you did a great job! You managed to get her to come in and you even confirmed that she exists! Give yourself a pat on the back! As for me, I got pulled away once again. This time to a place in the South American rain forest. When I get back, I will be sure to shower you in lots of hugs and kisses and all that good stuff, so hang tight, my ray of sunshine!

Be sure to keep the diner clean for me, and make sure to keep a note on any interesting rumors so we may fish them out together! Best of luck out there!

Sincerely,

Sunny Reyes

P.S. You had better cook that damn lamprey! Save some for me, too, will ya? Know that you can call me any time and whenever I have reception, I will send you many heart emojis! Love ya lots!

Ah, that Sunny, the sunshine of my life. She sure could be gone for long periods of time, but whenever she returned, it was like another honeymoon. That’s why we dubbed one of the rooms in the back the ‘honeymoon room’ just for us.

As for me, you may find my little discovery disappointing, after she turned out to not be interested in our deal, but I had a feeling that the rumored Remora would appear once more. After all, call it my intuition, superstition, or a combination of the two, but I had a tendency to be right about such things.

[adhdtoomanycommas]

Emotional Abuse and ADHD

Ok, first real post on the ADHD sideblog, so lets dive straight into the heavy stuff.   TW/CW for emotional abuse, gaslighting, and probably some other things too (please feel free to let me know if I should add additional tags).

I had trouble sleeping last night because my brain kept insisting I needed to start this blog, like immediately, despite it being clearly not an opportune time to do anything of the sort. Or at least, it insisted, I needed to jot down all the essay/ramble/whatever topic ideas I had complicated thoughts on so I could start the blog today. I managed to resist doing both of those things, and get to sleep eventually, but here I am.  The first topic that brought this on was wanting to talk about my experience in an emotionally abusive relationship and how many aspects of that were exacerbated by various symptoms of my (then undiagnosed) ADHD. 

I’m going to assume a certain amount of baseline familiarity with some terminology and whatnot here, if you’re confused by any of the ADHD terms I use here I recommend heading over to theadhdmanual.com and reading their very helpful “three pillars” articles which do a great job of explaining Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria (RSD) and emotional hyperarrousal (also elsewhere called emotional disregulation, I’ll be using both terms interchangably but won’t be abbreviating the latter for hopefully obvious reasons).  On the emotional abuse terminology front, there’s a couple great articles on gaslighting on everydayfeminism.com that I recommend seeking out. 

It is possible I am slightly stalling here by providing all this context.

At this point damn near ten years ago, for most of my senior year of college and for a good few months afterwards (I don’t remember how long exactly since adhd brains suck at timelines and I don’t feel like logicing it out right now) I was in what I later realized (with help from the aforementioned everydayfeminism articles) was an emotionally abusive relationship.  My then-boyfriend, who I will call Al, was insecure and jealous. I had more sexual experience than him going into the relationship, and he used that as an excuse to guilt-trip, manipulate, and ultimately control me.  I realize now, that the primary weapon he would use against me was my own RSD. 

Whenever I did something that upset Al, (typical infractions included things like accidentally mentioning one of my exes, correcting him about something,  “flirting with” --read: talking to-- any of my friends who were more my friend than his, or singing along to music) he would generally make his displeasure known by ignoring me--withdrawing all physical affection, coupled with the silent treatment.  If you’re familiar with RSD, you can already guess how effective this was.  If you’re not, then for comparison you should know that ADHD people can spiral very quickly into completely irrational “they hate me, don’t they?” thought spiral from something as small as a delayed text.  Al would almost never tell me what I did to upset him, and in my guilt-spiral I would usually tearfully beg forgiveness for everything I could think of until I guessed correctly and/or he arbitrarily decided I’d had enough. 

As an aside,  he would often do this silent treatment toward me in public while being perfectly cheerful and whatnot with our other friends, often making it seem to others like he was just joking or messing with me. On one memorable occasion he refused to say anything to me but the word “spoon” with varying inflections for the better part of a day--a pretty skillful gaslight because to everyone else around this just seemed like goofy ol’ Al being his silly self, but from context I knew this was part of a punishment, and I couldn’t express any kind of being upset about this, even annoyance, without looking like I was overreacting to a dumb joke.

Ultimately much of what he actually did (or didn’t do) in public didn’t look like much to an outside observer, but he knew my (RSD fueled) insecurity would make it hurt, especially when I wouldn’t be able to address anything with him until we were in private later. 

Also (and I intend to write a whole different post about this later) my particular brand of emotional disregulation takes the form of crying extremely easily.  I cry when I’m sad, when I’m tired, when I’m happy, when I see something too cute to handle, and (most importantly, in this instance) when I’m angry.  Because of this, every time I tried to address some relationship concern I had with him, whenever I tried to call out some of his shitty behavior or bring attention to my own emotional needs, it was extremely difficult--nigh impossible--to do so without crying.  This gave him a massive amount of gaslighting ammunition--it made it very easy for him to say I was overreacting, overemotional, irrational, trying to manipulate him, et cetera.   And it was hard to defend myself against that, even to myself. After all, lacking the ADHD diagnosis and resources about emotional disregulation that I have now, I had pretty much internalized the idea that I’m just “oversensitive” when it comes to crying, so I rationalized that I was also being oversensitive about whatever concern I started with in the first place. So every time a conversation started with me telling him he hurt me some way, it inevitably ended with me apologizing to him instead of the other way around.

Just to add to the already nasty cycle, Al also considered crying over something he didn’t deem worth crying over a punishable offense, so it often triggered the previously discussed silent treatment. 

A third aspect of ADHD I haven’t discussed yet also played a major part in how I was abused--Memory.  I don’t have a good resource to link on this one (I’m pretty sure there are some good howtoadhd videos on it on youtube but I’m not going to go dig for them right now), but ADHD people, on the whole, have terrible memories, especially short term/working memory.  Mine in particular might be even worse for some kinds of things  for unrelated reasons (aphantasia, which I might write about later but this is already really long and it’s not actually that relevant here).

Al was perpetually convinced that I was cheating on him, and any time we were apart he would quiz me afterwards on where exactly I was, what I did, for how long, and in what order.  Any inconsistency in my account, or any “I don’t remember”s would mean he would accuse me of lying about the whole thing.  I am pretty sure I have in common with most ADHD people that between time blindness and bad working memories, giving a consistent and accurate account like that is basically impossible, so this rarely went well for me.  Just to further complicate matters, being accused of lying when I’m not is practically guaranteed to make me cry, and trying to keep from crying (to avoid angering him further) means I swallow a lot, and somewhere Al had heard that excessive swallowing is a sign that someone is lying, so again these various ADHD symptoms would combine to just make everything worse.  

 I eventually got out of that relationship, and not too long afterwards got together with my now-husband, who is wonderful, so that’s a happy ending. Getting diagnosed with ADHD a few months ago, learning about these symptoms, and figuring all this out has made this make much more sense to me than before.   But in addition to my ADHD symptoms making me more vulnerable to these emotional abuse tactics,  I’m pretty sure the leftover baggage from the emotional abuse may have made those very same ADHD symptoms worse, and while my new meds seem to help immensely with the executive disfunction aspects of ADHD, they don’t do a damn thing about RSD spirals or emotional disregulation.  Healing and processing it all is slow going, but it has gotten a lot better over the years, and knowing now that even another aspect of this isn’t my fault helps too.  And taking my meds today did help me motivate myself to write all this out, so maybe that will help as well. 

I’m not sure what the takeaway is here, other than I strongly suggest everyone learn what gaslighting and emotional abuse in general looks like, but especially if you have ADHD or suspect you might have ADHD because we might be more vulnerable to being on the receiving end of it than most people.  If anything I talked about here sounds a little too familiar, I strongly recommend reading up on gaslighting, and consider getting the heck away from anyone who sounds too much like Al.  Maybe us ADHDers will inevitably get into some nasty thought-spirals or bad emotional places sometimes, maybe we’ll cry over nothing or worry too much that something we said will make everyone hate us, but if anyone tries to use any of that against you, uses it to get you to do what they want, or intentionally makes you feel worse, they’re not someone worth being around, and I promise you deserve better.

Not sure if anyone will read this, much less any fellow ADHDers because yeah, it’s a big ol’ wall of text and I get that can be hard, but if you made it this far, thanks for listening and I’ll try to go not quite so heavy with my next post, (assuming, of course, that I have a next post and this blog doesn’t become yet another started-and-abandoned project).

That’s all for now.

[thelimeonade]

“You deserve better...”- ♠

[Warning: Contains reference to abuse, violence, toxic relationships, partially-forced sex, alcohol and some drug consumption and suicide attempts. Do not proceed if this triggers you.]

I should be offline

but...

I’m finally brave enough to do this – to speak up about what has happened to me and what is happening to other girls\ boys around me, what might happen to people who don’t expect it.

I pray that whoever reads it is armed by hope from my words, strength to break the chains that scars brain, heart and body, wisdom to be able to tell what’s real and what’s not later on in life, awareness to help those who are bound in a similar situation and couldn’t get out.

“This was never love. You never loved me. You used me. You killed me. This was poison-filled madness.” - Lime Jackson [November 13th. 2018.]

-Lime A. Jackson.

“When the knight in shining armor comes into town, metal breastplate reflecting rays of pure sunlight, showing off carefully engraved swirls of flowers, leaves, twigs and waves, everybody rejoices.

Everybody but one.

She who stands in the shadows of the cheering masses wondering why do they cheer for a knight who supposedly went to a battlefield filled with bloodshed and gore, yet returns unblemished, unscarred, not a single dent or a flick of dust or a scratch on his armor. The very same armor he supposedly wore to every single one of those wars, coming back ‘triumphant’. He was nothing but an imposter.

But she found out too late... after she had given him her all and woke up with nothing...” - An excerpt from a short-story called ‘The Dark Knight’ by Lime A. Jackson.

I do not deny being stupid when I met him. Having just recovered from the loss of the dearest person to my heart, he became a rebound, an outlet to my emotions and an input to the hole in my heart after I’ve lost my godfather.

This is how my very first boyfriend – my ex – came into my life... and he was my knight in shining armor. Everything about him was seemingly perfect, the perfect smile, the perfect charm, the good looks... it was everything girls had chased after, everything people respected from the looks of it, never the core.

I remember vividly being happy [or what I assumed was happiness] as every sweet word tumbled off his lips, as every ‘grand-romantic-gesture’ came that I forgot about the rotten underbelly of it all.

As I go through my gallery, see the pictures that has been taken on our small dates in cafes, as I read the date, I don’t see the smile but rather my eyes, the white of them turning a darker shade of pinkish red as the days went on, the purple bags underneath my eyes, so dark that I had resulted to borrowing foundation and concealers from my cousin – me, the girl who never wore make-up – that did nothing to hide the sleepless nights spent weeping. I ask myself over and over again “How were you so happy? Did you already forget about those words he had said to you the other day? Did you forget about that sex you never wanted but gave to him anyways or else he’d leave you? How were you so fucking OBLIVIOUS?”

I never found a solid answer. Never even brushed a hazy one with the tip of my fingers because nothing ever made sense the minute my foot stepped out of his circle. When reality unfurled before my eyes.

[Continue below the cut for the pained reality... then the relief.]

I remember how he had used my love for him more than once for sex... and I was so stupid that I said ‘yes’... anything to keep him close to me.

I remember how he had brought in his friends to prove a point... and that point was “You can’t be in a relationship without having sex.”

I remember how he had made fun of my only pair of jeans. “Looks like something my grandma would wear.”

I remember how he had accused me of being ungrateful when I spoke of my parents’ abuse to me. “Are you always this ungrateful?” But I never was ungrateful... I just wanted the abuse to be over.

I remember how he accused me of being a ‘sheep’ because of my beliefs. and kept pulling it up in every argument, “I don’t want to be in a relationship with a fucking Muslim.” but he keeps forgetting that both his parents are Muslims, that even his own name is Muslim and he became an atheist later on and I never once judged him for it. I listened and understood and loved him still...

I remember how he had made fun of my conservative clothing, made me wear short skirts and revealing shirts to impress him, turned me into his little Barbie Doll but whenever I explained that I wear baggy clothes because I’m insecure, he accused me of being stupid and – yet again – ‘a sheep’

I remember his first time drinking, how he had verbally abused me when he was drunk, how he had turned me into a laughing stock, taunted me and ridiculed me. “Why the long face? You are always so depressing. You don’t even want to drink. You are no fun.”

I remember how he had accused me of not loving him when I spent time on my studies, my exams, on my university applications, on the recommendation letters I was trying to get and my volunteer work. “Those who really love somebody find time.” and I clipped off time from all of those things for him. It was never enough. He was never satisfied. Now I’ve been rejected in over 11 Universities and forced to do a gap year.

I remember how I’d been so excited to share with him my book ‘Extinct Galactic’ and the effort I’ve put into it, the character I’ve fashioned especially to fit him and he had brushed it all off. “I wish you love me as much as you love those dreams.” And for the very first time in three years... since the beginning of my dream to become a writer, I was forced to delete all my drafts to make time for him.

I remember being threatened by break-up on more than one occasion and him going through with it just so he can see if I love him enough to beg him to stay... “You didn’t even beg me to stay. Your love is bullshit.” but I did...

I remember when I had told him about wanting to become a surgeon if I cannot become a writer, he accused me of being ‘a sheep’ yet again because all parents here want their children to either be doctors or engineers, anything else is a disappointment. But I really wanted to be a surgeon, I want to help people and I have the capabilities but he brought them down.

I remember when I told him about my dreams and his reply was that they were all stupid “If you have dreams and they don’t come true, you’ll be depressed and spend the rest of your life sad. So be like me, just live every day as it is and be happy.” “You dream too much, those will never come true.”

I remember when I told him about sharing my surgery workshop experience with a guy in my Advanced Chemistry class and the guy was so disgusted that the guy and I laughed at it... but he had accused me of cheating. “Instead of texting me, you are laughing with that guy in your class.” and he had made his best friend come guilt-trip me, accusing me of cheating and when I explained that the guy had a girlfriend, he said “How do you know? Do you talk to him a lot? Do you text him a lot?” he didn’t believe me when I said that the girlfriend calls him a lot in class so we all know. And that’s why I never gave him my instagram password, why I never let him touch my phone, why I always kept it face-down around him because at the smallest notification, the interrogation began and he never believed me. “You lied to me before. Once a liar, always a liar.”

I remember when he had spun lies into my head that I was toxic... he cut and showed me the scars and blamed it on me, said I’ve given him so much pain that he had to do this to himself to ease it, threatened me with cutting again and had planted the lies in everyone’s heads... even mine, even my best friend and we all fell for it. and when I slipped into the darkest pits of depression, when I tried to kill myself more than once, he had yelled at me for it.

I remember how he accused me of turning the words ‘I love you’ into something emotionless from how much I said it... but I meant it every time...

I remember the way he gripped my forearm to force me to listen to his poison, to drink it in, to be the way he wants me to be.

I remember so much more shit... so much more things he had done and said and forced me to do... I remember how he planned to cheat on me to make me regret hurting him and love him more... when I never hurt him... I remember it all.

and I vividly remember how he walked in a week after our final break-up with a new girlfriend, rubbing her in my face.

And I was never the same...

I lost everything: my heart, my dreams, my ideas, my universe... and I couldn’t breathe. I didn’t want to live. I stopped taking my medications hoping that one day the world would be so kind to let my brain problem kill me... it never did.

I waited. I consumed everything I was allergic to as a form of self-harm, my allergies to spices (Capsaicin to be specific), my lactose intolerance, all of it.

I feigned happiness, I smiled when I was told, I laughed when a joke was told but nothing felt worth it, nothing at all.

I did feel some relief, my ideas did return but only momentarily before I felt the tilt in the rollercoaster tracks before the final drop, into depression and never coming back up.

.

.

Then he came... My Dark Knight... and I didn’t realize who he was exactly.

*Throwback to March 18th 2019*

-“You wrote this book? on your own?” [Extinct Galactic after I’ve made a story about struggling with keeping up with the events on instagram] =“Yes, I did. It’s my pride and joy.” -“Can I read it?” =“It’s still not ready... I’m sorry. Do I know you?” - “Hm... not exactly. I know of you, though. We go to school together but I’m a junior.” [I’m a senior.] = “Oh.” - “*he laughs* yea... I guess that means introductions are in order from my part. Hey, I’m ♠...” [I will not disclose his name, not until he agrees at least, but rather the symbol I always refer to him by.]

*end of throwback*

And we had talked everyday, nearly throughout the night and I felt comfortable sharing everything with him.. and for him too, he felt comfortable telling me things nobody knew about.

Then comes my prom night March 25th 2019 

My ex has broken up with his girlfriend... aimed to take me as a date then when he found out that I was taking ♠ as my date [just as friends] he flipped... he told me to better ‘not fuck it up because I know you always fuck shit up’ then proceeded to pull my leg by telling me that ♠ was actually part of his circle and he was well known for having girls back then and that he was probably playing me.

What my ex didn’t know is that ♠ had already told me all of this, the whole truth about his past, about how he was actually friends with my ex, every single bit and his exact words were “I understand that I have now painted myself before you as the ‘danger. do not approach.’ guy and you have every right to turn away right now. I won’t be angry or upset.”

and I stayed. I’ve never been so proud of myself for staying.

Ladies and gentlemen, I introduce the man whose quote titles this post, my boyfriend... the one who helped me up and sees me as the best thing in the world no matter how much I try to tell him otherwise. Who has done the impossible for me, who had loved me more than anyone in less than a month...

He asked me to tell him what happened to me before, all of it and he had held me when I was close to falling apart. “You deserve better...” he told me over and over again, he still does whenever I’m in doubt. “You deserve to be loved, cherished and respected without having to change anything about you. You deserve the best.” and this is something I want everybody to hear.

I just want to give you all some situations and comparisons to show you what toxic is like and what real should be like:

Prom night. I never wear heels, only when the situation requires it and prom meant heels. I couldn’t walk in them, let alone dance so I stopped by my table [Which I shared with my date, my ex and his friends and some old friends of mine.] to take them off. “Are you okay? Do you need help?” ♠ asked as I struggled to take off my heels. “Just leave her. We will miss out so much if we wait for her. Let’s go.” and I encouraged ♠ to go with them but he got down on his fucking knees to help me with my heels when I told him countless times not to.

Still same night. Buffet came and while I was eating, I forked up something and just as I was about to take a bite, ♠ twisted the fork in my hand and ate it himself. People laughed and thought he was just playing but in reality, he had leaned over and told me it was spicy. [I told him about my severe allergy and my self-harm using capsaisin. He did this because otherwise I would have to tell people about my problems.]

He never once made a move on me unless I gave him the brightest of green flags to proceed and when I say not now, he would smile and say, “Good things are worth waiting for. So imagine perfect things like you...” and he said that but my ex threatened me with break up whenever I said no.

After he asked me out, asked me to be his girlfriend he said “I know my timing is horrible and my past is even worse. So if you don’t want me, please say it and be clear. I’ll understand.” and when I was so dumbstruck that I was whispering, “I don’t know.” he had taken it as a No and smiled before saying “It’s okay. Can we still be friends?” as he prepared to leave, to fully accept my rejection but then I said yes to being with him a hundred times. He never once made me regret it.

When I confessed my dreams, he confessed his too and he encouraged me and actually made me believe in myself more than what I thought possible and he made me.... so fucking happy.

When I told him about Extinct Galactic, he actually listened and the next day I noticed that his phone background changed from his favorite rock band’s logo to a picture of space and stars.

I never once kept my phone face-down with him. In-fact, his fingerprint now unlocks my phone and he knows the password to my instgram just like I know his. I thought his first reaction upon having it was go through my DMs like my ex but instead he went to my archives and said “Why did you archive all these beautiful pictures of you? Can I screenshot them?” and when I showed discomfort regarding an embarrassing picture, he immediately deleted it from his phone.

One thing I hate about him is that he refuses to let me pay for anything. Even when I sneaked a 200 pound bill in his pocket after a meal he paid for, I went home and when I opened my bag the 200 was there with a note that said ‘ Nice try. ♥’

When my ex had accused my gasps and screams and grumbles over book characters in the book I was reading to be stupid, ♠ would literally go like “*gasp* how dare she!?!?” with me over Maeve in Throne of Glass. [Eventhough he never read the series. Never even heard of it but he listens to my rambling anyways.]

When I spent months looking for Kingdom of Ash, the final battle of the Throne of Glass series and couldn’t find it. I saw the look on his face, threatened to castrate him if he even tries to buy it for me (especially since it’s so expensive here in my country). Next day, he opens his backbag at school and pretends that he has ‘no idea how this Kingdom of Ash book jumped into his bag’. I might have slapped his shoulder with it really hard.... before crying and hugging him.... but still I’m mad at him and planning the castration.

When my mom threatened to ruin my relationship with him, he fucking called her and told her how much he loves me. When everybody fears my mom. When he knows damn well of her abuse, that she might hurt him too, he went up to her when she was picking me up from school, basically told her ‘If you don’t want me to be with your daughter, better just run me over with your car, that’s the only way you will stop me because I’m never going to stop loving her.’.... straight into my mom’s face.

One day he got drunk and had drunk dialed me and I was waiting for him to cuss me out, to have a go at me, instead he tells me how much he loves me over and over again then proceeds to apologize for 15 fucking minutes for being ‘a stupid drunk’ because of my experiences before and might have been crying on the phone??

@mediocre-prose vouches for him because she knows what’s up and she texted him once. And let me tell you....She would shove a nuclear bomb up his ass if she disapproves but she doesn’t lol.

There’s so much more I want to say... so much more.

But my message here is to say that ‘You deserve better.’ and better will come. Whether it’s soon or late or in ten years. It will come.

And if it’s late, it’s still good. An Egyptian saying says “Every late thing brings something good with it.”

So hold on. ♥

You are beautiful, you are perfect, you are not ugly, you are not a sexy toy, you do not deserve shit. You are a queen and you deserve the best.

Hell, you don’t even need a knight at all to save you. [No offense to the good knights out there who helped] be your own fucking knight!! If I could do it long enough, if I could pull myself out of those cuffs my ex had wrapped around me claiming they were satin clothes fit for a queen instead of iron shackles, if I could take off that fucking collar he used to leash me to him, then so fucking can you.

Give yourself time to heal too. Don’t be hard on yourself. Some things might never be the same but that’s also good. You know why? Scars are thicker skin to ensure that you will never be hurt again. A bone can never be broken in the same place twice because when it’s healed, it’s stronger.

If it weren’t for my ex’s abuse, I would have never felt the need to write Extinct Galactic or find an escape among aliens in a far-away galaxy and even-though he fucked me up, I’m better than him and I will not hold any hate in my heart and I’m thankful for every bit of venom he made me choke on because his abuse turned me unbreakable.

Never give up! Never. Never. Never.

If somebody does not see your worth, tell them to piss off and I assure you somebody else will. Because if somebody as flawed as me can survive and find happiness, then so can you.

“YOU DESERVE BETTER. YOU DESERVE THE BEST.” -♠

[p.s. for those who wonder why the ♠? My favorite card in the playing deck is Ace of spades and that often means ‘misfortune’. Yet people forget that what doesn’t kill you only makes you stronger and if the Ace of spades is drawn upside down, it means the greatest fortune there is.]

[Edit: This is not meant to paint my Ex as the evil person in this. He is good in some aspects but what he had done to me was wrong. I do not hate him but I do not love him either. I only hope that he becomes a better version of himself for whoever he might share his life with later on in life and if he is in need for my help, I won’t hesitate to help him just like I won’t hesitate to help many others.]

[Edit 2: My ex did not rape me. I told him yes with my own tongue. I was fully aware when I said that. I wanted it back then because I did not want him to leave. He is not a rapist. But he is an asshole.]

[dsmadmin]

#BeastofBrayRoad

Written by @DaemoniumJager & @LoneHuntressDSM

John: Shoutgun in hand tromping through the brush pushing ten o'clock at night I hear a howl in distance. Taking off in a run towards it, been out here for hours waiting to get my chance and nothing till now. Slowing down to listen raising the Mossberg, butt resting against my shoulder. Measured steps coming up on a smell, blood... inching closer hard to see in the dark. Wet smacking and flesh being ripped away from it's prey.

Low growl, it was quicker than I'd anticipated. Didn't get a shot off as it locked down on my arm sinking it's teeth into me. Scrambling with the weight of it, fingers in the dirt managing to grab the gun. "BLAM" I'd turned my face away as I pulled the trigger close range afraid of getting peppered with lead. Ears ringing, wet with thick blood I push the dead-weight of the wolf like creature off me.

Just laying there on the earthen floor of the forest looking up into the tree line, watching the dark clouds move past the moon giving more light at the moment to see by. "What the hell was I doing?" Been at this now a few years and it just kept getting crazier. The boys on my mind but the job I'm suppose to be at getting me up off my ass, blood running down my fingertips from the bite.

Least I'd got the bastard. This thing had been terrorizing the area around here. Livestock at first but it had killed two small kids around Dean's age too. Nudging the black fury beast with the toe of my boot, taking out a flashlight to get a good look at it. Taking a few pictures with my camera to put in my journal for later reference. It's hind legs looked like something the mythical Minotaur had but this was not a werewolf. Otherwise I'd be screwed because it just bit me. Thick black fur and sharp teeth, nothing overly special besides those hind leg's.

Looking down at my watch cursing. I was /late/ again for work. I needed to get a move on. The shotgun blast had done enough damage it wasn't coming back to life. I didn't have time to bury it so I just high tailed it back to the Impala. Opening the trunk I pulled my bloody jacket off and overshirt. Blotting my arm with the ruined shirt. Cleaning it up with some whiskey quickly and wrapping it up. No time to change, I just wipe my face off and close the trunk. Forty five minutes later I pull up to the shipping depot and get out.

Head down I already know I'm gonna hear shit from the boss. "Nice of you finally make it Winchester." "I'm sorry, I'll get right to work." "No, I've had enough of you." "Please I need this job I've got two boys to feed." "I don't want to hear it. You're late /again/ covered in blood. Get your shit together and stay out of the bars fighting if you really care about your boys."

I tried my best to talk him out of firing me but dejected I walked back to the Impala, dreading having to face the boys when I got back. We were running way low on food and money. Rent was up on the motel and it just seemed I couldn't catch a break. Walking into the grungy motel room, I was greeted by Dean who's got big as a silver dollar. "Dad?! What happened to your arm? Wh... is that blood?" "Easy son, little accident at work. It's okay." Not sure he bought it but he seemed to calm down after a hug. Checking on Sammy who was asleep I headed in to take a long shower. Dressing the wound, feeling like a new man I smiled. Dean was standing on a chair making grilled cheese sandwich's with a hot plate. Taking over we sat down and ate them in silence and went to bed.

::::::::::::::::

Annie: I wrinkle my nose at the paper. It was something. I had to be something. I knew in my gut.

While most of my graduating class went off to college or... I gag... got married... I decided to find out what was out in the dark. I knew personally that monsters were real. At least werewolves were.

What else was out there? Was Frankenstein real? Mummys? Vampires? Godzilla?

I packed a suitcase and load it in the back of my Firebird. I had enough cash to make it through my summer road trip. If I needed more, I'm sure I could find a small job or figure something. I was very resilient.

So Delavan, WI was my destination. The article mentioned people found ripped apart be 'wolves'.

Wolves generally steer clear of people. We were their enemy. So I didn't buy that cover story.

I pull into the motel parking lot next to an impressive '67 Impala. Then head into the manager's office.

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John: -Early the next morning John got up at the sound of the door being beat on. Groggy eyed he got up shirtless and answered the door. The hotel owner stood there looking pissed. Heavy sign, he wanted money. Wordlessly I walk over and pull the last money from my wallet and hand it over. I hate to find work and if need to look for churches that would be willing to help. The owner smiled showing his missing teeth. As he left I grabbed a shirt and slipped my boots on. Going out to the Impala I popped the trunk looking for the last bit of canned food we had.-

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Annie: I couldn't help but hear the pounding on my neighbor's door.

Who beats on someone's hotel room door /this/ early in the morning?

I peek out of the dark curtains and watch as the manager berates my neighbor. I can't help but feel for them. My neighbor's voice sounded defeated when he spoke back to the manager.

I'd open the curtain slightly wider when the manager walked off triumphantly. I continued to watch my neighbor through the window, smiling as he walks to the Impala that I'd been impressed with the day before.

I bit my lip slightly as I swing open the door, I shouldn't stick my nose in but damn if I did anyway.

"Morning," I say making eye contact.

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

John: -John looked up from the trunk and found himself staring at gorgeous redhead. He smiled at her.- Morning.

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Annie: "Sorry, couldn't help but overhear," I let my eyes move over the man and then to his car. Losing my train of thought. I move closer, my bare feet on the cool cement. I hadn't bothered to change from my pajamas when was spying on my neighbor. So I stand there gawking in thin shorts and a t-shirt.

The black paint of the Impala reflects the morning sun that is peeking over the rooftop of the other building. "She's beautiful. A '67?"

I raise my eyes to meet his. Damn, he had dimples too.

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John: -His was widowed not dead and his eyes lingered. He could make out her nipples pressing against the thin shirt. At the mention of Baby he grinned.- A woman who knows her cars... yes she is. Best purchase I ever made.

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Annie: I noticed his gaze and smirked. I didn't mind him looking. Hell, it was hot to have a man with his /experience/ look at me.

"I love cars," I walk around meeting him at the trunk and point over to my Firebird, "that one's mine." I glance down at the contents of his trunk. Seeing his shotgun.

"You, hunt too?"

:::::::::::::::::::::::

John: -Looks over at her car, bold just like he bet she was.- Hunt? Oh yeah no and then when things are in season.

:::::::::::::::::::::::::

Annie: I look at the items in the trunk then back to him, frowning slightly. Did I misread something? I'm so new at this that I guess I don't know all the signs. But this guy looked like he could hunt.

I see the torn and bloody shirt that was tossed in the trunk and then his bandaged arm. "You ok, sweetheart? That looks like it is fucking painful," I run my fingers lightly over his arm, "I heard there was a wolf thing in the woods near here. That's why I came."

::::::::::::::::::::

John: -He didn't pull away and listened to her, the soft-touch got him revved up a bit though. He'd been trying to play it off about being a hunter because from what he'd seen that wasn't something people shared too openly. Voice lowered he leaned in.- You're a /hunter/ like evil shit in the dark?

::::::::::::::::::::::::

Annie: I meet his gaze with mine and nod, "The weird shit like that fascinates me," I say softly, "I've only run into a few guys at a bar that said they believed in it. But really they were just teasing me or trying to get in my pants."

I tuck a strand of copper hair behind my ear, "So do you really believe there are monsters lurking out in the dark?"

:::::::::::::::::::::

John: Yeah. I’ve seen the shit up close and personal. No place for a lady to be chasing down though. Does your family know what you’re up to?

:::::::::::::::::::::::::

Annie: "Lady?" I give him a smile, "Don't think I've ever been accused of being a lady before."

Somehow the word though falling from his lips didn't seem so foreign. I take a couple of steps closer to him. I'm not sure if his goal was to intimidate me or to scare me away. But I don't scare easily.

"I've seen stuff too," I tell him, "my family thinks I'm on a road trip across the country before college."

:::::::::::::::::::::::

John: So you’re out here alone hunting? You should go home and stay away from this stuff. The deeper you get the harder it will be to get out.

:::::::::::::::::::::

Annie: "What if I want to go deeper?" I ask him. "I want to learn this. I want to be able to protect myself from the monsters out there. I know I don't know everything. But I'm in too deep to turn back now." I lock my gaze with his, "Please, don't treat me like I'm a little girl in over my head. Teach me?"

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

John: -John's frown deepened, thinking about Mary that image was /fresh/ in his memory.- I'm new at this too, I could get us both killed. -Thinking on it though might be smarter with two instead of one especially since he needed to look after the boys as well.- If I show you what I know... you promise to be careful? I got my boys with me I can't afford to half-assed or jump the gun you know what I mean?

:::::::::::::::::::::

Annie: I'm not sure why but something about this man made me trust him. I only hoped I gave him the same feeling. As much as I could being a strange girl standing in a motel parking lot in my pajamas.

"I promise I'll be careful. I don't know about you," I give him a smile, "I like living so I'm not gonna do anything to put a stop to that if I can help it." I quirk a brow as he mentioned his boys, "You have kids? How old?"

::::::::::::::::::::::::

John: -Distracted a minute thinking about things, he came around and answered.- Dean's five, Sammy is just a year old.

::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Annie: "Oh, you've got babies, huh?" I look up at the man who towered over me, "By yourself?"

:::::::::::::::::::

John: Yeah... my wife... something killed her. I should go check on them they're still so small but get in trouble easily.

::::::::::::::::::::::::

Annie: I watch as his expression changes as he mentions his wife. The sadness in his eyes. "I'm sorry. I lost my boyfriend to a werewolf," I tell him, my tone dropped the cheerfulness I'd had before. "Ripped him apart in front of me. No one believed me. But it happened."

I push the thought back and look up with him smiling, I didn't have to dwell on it anymore, life was too fucking short, and I had to find the creature so no one else died, "How about you go check on your boys and maybe come by some time," I point to my room, "I gotta get a shower and dressed and stuff," I turn on my bare feet heading back to my room, then turn back towards him, "I'm Annie by the way."

::::::::::::::::::::::

John: -He looked back watching her walk away, the revelation about her boyfriend gave him an understanding. They were out here chasing crazy for the same reasons.- I'm John. -Heading back inside the hotel he found Dean passed out holding Sammy, cartoons playing on the fuzzy television screen. Picking Sammy up he smiled at him.- Big brother is exhausted so it's me and you for a bit. -John got the Sammy bathed and changed then put him in the makeshift crib that was basically a milk crate padded with a pillow. Putting the blanket over him he made him a fresh bottle. Once the small one was settled down John looked to Dean and his heart broke all over again. Dean was stronger than most adults he knew, hell we was certainly stronger than him. Sitting on the edge of the bed he ran his fingers through his hair. Dean looked peaceful right now and he prayed the boy would sleep and not have nightmares. He'd waken to screams on more than one occasion and poor Dean would be white as a sheet calling out for his mother. John felt like such a failure for not being able to protect Mary and the kids. Whatever this thing

was that killed her he was gonna find it and kill it no matter what it took. Not just for her but for the boys, he wanted the boys, especially Dean to see that no matter what the hell you faced it could be dealt with. John needed them to know that, not be scared of the world and just go with the flow. No, you had to stand and fight not cower and fear. Putting another blanket on Dean then laying down himself he fell asleep.-

:::::::::::::::::::::::::

Annie: I made it back to my room. Glad I finally met someone that knew what was really going on. I'm a novice. And it seemed that John was pretty new at this too. But it was a start. And he didn't seem to be some creepy guy who was trying to make some kind of play.

I tugged my pajamas off and tossed them in a pile by the bathroom door. Then walk into the bathroom and step under the running water. Taking a shower was time for me to recenter myself, to wash off every bad thing from the days before. Lately, things hadn't been great, but they hadn't been bad either. They'd just been.

I wanted so much to learn more about what was out there. I know what's out there is dangerous. But I wasn't scared. Not sure if that made me stupid or brave.

I wrap a towel around myself and run a brush through my hair as I thinking I should take my newspapers over to John and may together we could make heads or tails of the creature that was out in the woods. The thing that appeared to have attacked him.

I got dressed. Shorts, a t-shirt, and tennis shoes. then head out with newspapers tucked under one arm and a box of pop tarts in the other.

I peeped out his car again as I walked by it. He was telling the truth about having kids. There was evidence of that in his back seat.

I tap lightly on the hotel room door. Hoping I was not bothering him.

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

John: -He'd slept hard and thankfully Sammy had slept through the night. Shit, showered and shaved he sat with his journal open and a map. Dean was eating a can of fruit watching cartoons with Sammy propped up on a blanket sucking on his binkie when the knock on the door came. Dean looked up at him with a tense expression. The poor kid was thinking the same as him "was it the manager again" John reached down and ruffled his hair.- It's okay champ I'll take care of it. -With that he got up and opened the door to not find the asshole manager but the looker from yesterday. His tense expression changed.- Hey there, Annie right?

::::::::::::::::::::::

Annie: I offer him a smile as he swings the door open, "Right. Hi. Sorry. I know I asked you to come to see me but I thought maybe I could come over and we can work on something."

I didn't stop rambling. I don't know why. I wasn't nervous even though the man was ridiculously handsome. And stood probably a foot taller than me. I liked talking to him.

"I brought breakfast," holding up the box of Pop-Tarts, "and all the papers they had at the convenience store around the corner. Thought maybe there'd be some clues about what was out there, you know."

::::::::::::::::::::

John: -Dean's head popped up at the word "breakfast" and his eyes widened eyeing the pop tarts. John smiled at her and backed up opening the door wider.- Of course, please come in. Dean, come here and say hello to the pretty lady.

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Annie: I give the younger Winchester a smile and hand him the box of Pop-Tarts as I stepped inside their motel room, "They're Strawberry so that's fruit right?"

It wasn't much different than mine. Other than the makeshift crib in the corner. "Thanks for not shutting the door in my face," I look back up at the older Winchester, "I thought we can do something," I take a seat at in a chair at his table.

:::::::::::::::::::::

John: -Dean was smiling ear to ear and John nodded it was okay and he went back to watching his cartoons and now munching on a pop tart. Taking a seat he looks at the redhead.- I'm not in the habit of being rude to women. What do you have here? -Looking at the papers she was holding.-

::::::::::::::::::::::::

Annie: I handed him the newspapers that I'd gathered showing him the stories that I'd circled, "I found these stories," I point to the story showing the guy that had lost his leg in a 'hunting' accident, "you think we should go to the hospital and interview him?"

:::::::::::::::::::::

John: We could if we can get in. Dean, can you watch Sammy for a little while? -He hated leaving Dean so small to look after Sammy who was just an infant but what else could he do?-

::::::::::::::::::::

Annie: "I can get us in," I give him a smile as an idea churns through my brain. "I know a guy that can make us an ID. Very convincing. But do you have a suit?" I quirk a brow.

:::::::::::::::::::::

John: No, I don't but I saw a thrift store up the road. Surely I can find it there.

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[enchanting-cheesestick]

Marriage, part one.

Trigger warning: sexual assault/abuse/rape, narcissist(?), marriage, divorce, possible emotional abuse(?)

The past year.. God, actually the past two years have sucked. I spent 14 years married to a man who didn't physically want me, didn't care about my wants or needs. I'm pretty sure he's a narcissist, and I'm pretty sure the lack of sex was a way to control me. I say this because the few times I tried to talk to him about it, how seriously it bothered me, and that I wanted to fix it, he basically made me feel attacked. There was never any "I'll try harder" or any influx of him initiating after our conversations. Instead, I got treated to such gems as "when you tell me you're unhappy my first thought is great who's she leaving me for now" and "I'm not willing to take a little blue pill to please my wife" (after I mentioned that he might need his testosterone checked, because it could be a reason and it could also be a serious health issue). I'd already completely stopped trying to initiate myself at this point, because I'd literally been turned down every time I tried, from the first month we were married.

I was emotionally numb after the conversation that featured both of those statements, which I started off by telling him that I was unhappy with the lack of sex, and wanted to try to fix it. Oh. I forgot one. I tried to dress up for the drive to the hotel we stayed at, tried to get his mind working and see if that made him more interested in sex. I tried to "accidentally" flash him getting out at one point. He told me that I was trying too hard and it was off-putting. You can guarantee that I never tried that again for him.

I probably should have left him at this point. Things were never the same. But I loved him, and I supported him. The entire marriage, my mother and I supported him financially. We worked hard to make his dreams come true, opened three small businesses to try and give him a way not only to have something to do, but a way that he could try to help support us. We worked at these businesses, and at our paying jobs. We did everything we could for him-I'm very service oriented, I guess, when it comes to showing love, if I'm falling for someone, or straight up in love with them, I find myself wanting to do things for them, buy things for them, help and spoil them. I think I learned part of that from my mother. Luckily, I've taught myself other things that she doesn't know, like how to move forward and move on, how to look at the past, the pain, and instead of feeling sorry for myself or spend my life loving and missing someone who's caused me more pain and then moved on, figured out how to make myself happy, got a sense of the me I'd always wanted to be, and made myself happy. Some of the reasons I've been able to do this better has been my age. Some, technology. Some are that I spent just over half of the last year those 14 years working on myself and my self esteem, because I already knew it had to be over, I just didn't know how to do it at that point.

Probably May or June of 2019, I'd decided that I didn't care if I ever got to have sex, or intimacy of any kind, again. I loved my husband, and I'd give these needs and desires up for him, to be able to continue taking care of him. At this point, it had been 5 years almost since we'd had sex (which was always about his pleasure, not mine). The same time since we'd kissed passionately, probably. Just quick pecks. We cuddled, sometimes. Usually if I got off earlier in the day, I went to the business and helped. If I got off later, and he was home, he'd be watching something in the living room. I'd try to sit with him, but most of the time, if my mother hadn't cooked supper, I had to cook something for us, or get something out for us. Then I'd have to go to bed, because I probably had to wake up early the next day for work. Anyways, so I'd decided I'd give everything up. And then about a month later, a miracle happened. He told me that he wanted to try and work on the sex life, finally. I told him that I was willing to try, but at this point, it had been so long that it almost felt like he was a stranger, when it came to sex. I'd entirely taken him out of that box, so that I didn't pressure him. But we tried. He tried two different times that month to have sex with me, but he couldn't even finish himself. I didn't comment on it, I tried to keep him from feeling bad. Then he told me that he had to admit something to me. He was attracted to my best friend.

She'd been coming around more and more, because her marriage had issues too. She had lower self esteem than I did, and is conventionally more attractive than I am.

I told him that while it hurt to know, especially since I hadn't felt like he was attracted to me for a long time, that it was only natural, and that I wasn't upset with him. I thought about it, and even gave him permission to be flirty with her. I thought it would be good for her to hear from someone that she WAS pretty, cute, whatever, because after the 3 months of being numb from that one conversation, what had saved me was that I wound up in an emotional affair with a friend, and the flirting and things helped my confidence a little bit. *

I trusted that it would just be flirting, and that if anything happened, it would be after a talk with me. He flirted some, and they cuddled, and I was fine with it. We all got really close, and I was happy, though I felt my esteem slipping. But I'd decided that if they were into each other, I wouldn't stop them.

She wasn't interested in him beyond as a friend.

She stated this to me multiple times, and I assume to him multiple times, because when she said that she was more interested in me sexually than in him, he pushed me to explore with her. I made sure she knew that if she was interested in him, but afraid to tell me and hurt me, that she could tell me and I'd be okay, that I wouldn't stop them. But she wasn't.

Things were still relatively normal at this point. Then he had a heart attack. It was like a switch got flipped. A week after his heart attack, he took innocent cuddling, and turned it into groping her boobs without her permission. Rubbing his hand over her nipples. Maybe squeezing a bit, I don't remember. I think she said he rubbed her ass some, too. She's had issues with rape and assault in the past, and her reaction isn't fight or flight, it's the third option, it's shutting down. She shut down and had to work herself out of it to stop him before he'd stop. They told me the moment I walked in the door. I was hurt, because he hadn't really wanted to touch me that way in so long, but I kept calm, and I asked again if she wanted that attention from him. She once again said that she didn't. We all had a long talk about boundaries, and I thought things were going to be okay. She still worked at the business (she got paid for her work, I didn't). She still stayed with us. I honestly don't know why she was comfortable with that, but I didn't want to question it at that point, I guess. We'd talked, we'd reset boundaries, and I trusted him.

He stopped touching her, but didn't stop flirting with her. He also had started to make very inappropriate comments to her while she was working, saying that he wanted to lock the door, take her to the back, and bend her over and fuck her. I didn't know. He told her not to tell me, because it would hurt me. She didn't tell me for two months. This went on for two months, and she kept working there, putting herself in that position, and keeping his words from me. He knew it would hurt me to hear that he was saying these things to her, because he'd never said those kind of things to me. He'd never been so attracted to me that he thought about those things. I was the good little wife who gave him everything financially, who took care of him. He didn't have me in his life for anything sexual or romantic. Just to take care of him. He'd never cared about my desires or needs, I think the only reason he ever touched me was to keep me placated enough to stay, while tearing me down and making me feel like I was just too fat and ugly for anyone to ever want, that I didn't deserve, and would never find, someone who was truly attracted to me. And I believed that, for most of 14 years.

*No, I'm not proud that I'd had that,and didn't mean for it to happen, but I think it was integral to me being alive again, and honestly I don't know if I'd have bothered to continue living if I'd stayed numb. And no, I never admitted to my then husband that anything inappropriate had happened. I felt like I'd already been basically accused of it in the conversation I mentioned, when all I'd done was try to make the relationship stronger. I was afraid of what he'd turn it into, afraid of the pain he'd emotionally inflict on me over it. I was probably wrong to not admit it to him. But I chose that path, and I stuck to it. I had never stopped loving him, but I was also seriously depressed when it happened, it snuck up on me, and it helped me to work out of that spiral I'd found myself in.

[language-rxgers]

Best Boyfriend You’ve Never Had (Bucky x Reader)- Part 2

Summary: Reader tells Nat, Wanda and Sam of her situation, and confides in them the unexpected reason behind her denial that it will lead to happily ever after.

Characters: Bucky Barnes, Reader, Natasha Romanoff, Sam Wilson, Wanda Maximoff, Steve Rogers (mentioned)

Warnings: Feels, slight angst

Word Count: 2152

A/N: So sorry it’s been a while, but here’s part 2! I don’t know for sure when part 3 will be up, but it’ll be soon! Thanks for reading, and enjoy!

Masterlist

Part 1 (Previous) / Part 3

*gif is not mine; credit to rightful owner*

The next day, Bucky had gone on a small trial mission with Steve. He hadn’t been out with the team in the field since his return from Wakanda; while T’Challa’s scientists were successful in thoroughly erasing HYDRA’s trigger words from Bucky’s mind, he still suffered from haunting nightmares and PTSD from both his time in the war and as the Winter Soldier. However, he had been getting better, with the help of yourself, Steve and the rest of the team, and after months of training and recovery, he finally felt ready to join the Avengers on missions. Now, mind you, this wasn’t a real mission; it was just a trial scenario- a simulation set up by Tony and Maria, with former SHIELD field agents Hill had recruited acting as the enemies. You hadn’t a shade of doubt in Bucky though; he was really doing so much better, and he was so thankful to finally be free of HYDRA’s hold. He still had a ways to go, but you knew he would never be alone again, not while you were still breathing.

At around noon, after finishing the last of some paperwork, you headed down to the kitchen. You entered to see Sam and Natasha sitting at the counter, both nursing steaming cups of coffee, and Wanda was cooking on the stove. It smelled intoxicating, but then again, anything Wanda made was fantastic. Though the team had made a schedule for grocery shopping and cooking, it usually ended up being Wanda who would take over for the meals, claiming no one on the team knew how to cook. Not that you were complaining. You smiled at the young Sokovian as you claimed the stool next to Nat.

“What’cha making?” You leaned over the counter to peak at what was cooking in the frying pan, face splitting into a pleased grin at the sight of brown rice and steamed vegetables in one pan, with chicken breast in another beside it. It may look simple, but Wanda had some sort of secret recipe for the meal that was like no other. “Oh, Wand, I adore you.” She grinned, tending to the stir-fry.

“So, any news from Steve about Bucky?” She turned down the heat on the stove, looking up at you. You shook your head.

“Steve said it would most likely take a few hours, but I’m not worried. I’m sure Buck’s gonna do great.” A giddy grin split across your face at the mention of the chestnut-haired soldier. Ever since you had agreed to bring him as your fake boyfriend to your sister’s wedding, your chest swelled in excitement at the thought of him. Nat, of course, took note of this. She bumped your shoulder.

“What’s got you all excited? Ever since yesterday you’ve been irritatingly chipper.” She sipped nonchalantly from her mug, eyeing you from her peripheral. You simply shrugged.

“I dunno. Just in a good mood.” You played with a pen laying on the marble countertop. Nat gave an insinuating hum.

“Wouldn’t have anything to do with a certain team member possessing a certain metal appendage?” You felt heat spread through your cheeks. Your eyes flashed to Sam warningly, who was staring bug-eyed at your reaction, trying desperately to hold back a teasing remark. You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding.

“Okay, it’s not what you think-“ you pointed an accusing finger at a smirking Nat. “I know that look, and it’s not like that, but I guess I do have something I need to tell you. I’m only telling you guys because if I don’t then Sam will start a rumor-“ the mentioned former pararescue airman feigned an offended expression, placing a hand on his chest, “-and then everyone will suddenly think I’m in love with Bucky. I’m not, okay, he’s just my friend.” Please, don’t let them see through it, keep your face straight, (Y/N). “This doesn’t leave this room, got it?” Sam, Nat and Wanda all simultaneously nodded their heads with fervor, eager to hear your confession. Wanda leaned forward, rice and chicken forgotten on the stove. You took in a deep breath. “Alright, so yesterday, I got a letter from my sister- an invitation. She’s getting married.”

Cheers of congratulations were exclaimed, before you shushed them, smiling in gratitude. “She’s getting married, and I’m a bridesmaid, but she said that she expects me to bring a plus-one for once. I didn’t want to be that one sister who still doesn’t have boyfriend again, so I may have told her I have one. She was so excited, I felt like I had to, you know? I mean, I haven’t been on a date since dinosaurs roamed the Earth, and every family reunion, it’s always the same questions: ‘So, (Y/N), anyone special in your life yet?’; ‘Well, (Y/N), I’ve already met everyone else’s dates for the night, where are you hiding yours?’; ‘Oh, you still aren’t in a relationship? That’s fine, I guess. But not for too long, I hope, I’d like to have grandchildren sometime before I die.’ I just couldn’t do it again.” You sighed in exasperation. Nat frowned.

“So, you said you had a date, but you don’t. What next?” You bit your lip and met her eyes; you had a feeling she knew what was next.

“Bucky came by my office after I hung up, and I vented to him. I wasn’t expecting him to do anything, but next thing I know, he’s offering to be my plus-one. And I mean, plus-one, plus-one.”

Wanda’s eyebrows shot up. “Like a fake boyfriend type thing? Like the movies?”

You nodded. “Yes, it was like a scene straight out of ‘Can’t Buy Me Love’ or like one of those Hallmark movies.”

Sam straightened, pointing a finger at you. “Hey, don’t drag the Hallmark movies, they don’t get nearly the credit they deserve!” You raised an eyebrow at his outburst. His mouth fell slightly agape, hand slowly lowering as he sealed his lips again and avoided your gaze. Wanda held a hand over her smirk, giggling softly. Nat rolled her eyes and inhaled, turning back to you.

“So, what, now Brooklyn Boy’s playing your guy for the wedding?” You nodded, grimacing. You slumped forward onto the counter, head resting in your hands.

“This is a terrible idea, I’m so awful at acting. There’s a reason I never go on undercover ops. And even if I was, they’ll never believe Bucky’s with me. Ugh, I should just call my sister and tell her I’m coming alone. I’ll say we broke up or something, wait for Bucky to get back and tell him he’s off the hook.” You felt a hollow pain radiate through your skull, recoiling and sitting back to look at a wide eyed Nat. Her brows were furrowed in disbelief and her hand was still resting in mid-air. “What the fuck!? Did you just hit me upside the head? Who does that?” The bitter smell of burning chicken assaulted your senses, and you, Nat and Sam all turned to the stove. Wanda met yours eyes before snapping her head down to the sizzling food below.

“Shit!” As she scrambled to turn off the stove and salvage the meal, Nat turned back to you after the shock wore off.

“Are you insane? Why would you do that? Haven’t you ever seen a romantic comedy in your life? This is great!” You narrowed your eyes at the bright-eyed redhead, quirking a questioning eyebrow. She sighed in frustration. “Obviously, you guys are supposed to go to the wedding together, pretend to be a couple, fall for each other- if you haven’t already, which I seriously doubt- have some sort of falling out or misunderstanding, realize you can’t be without the other, reunite, and make up with some huge romantic gesture. Happily ever after’s practically been served to you on a silver platter in the name of James Buchanan Barnes.” You almost laugh at how naïve she was being. Someone like Natasha, who was raised knowing nothing other than the cruelty of life, that love is a fantasy children make up in blissful ignorance of the harsh realities of life.

“Nat, you know damn well that there’s no such thing as happily ever after. Especially not for people like me. That’s a pipe dream for idealists.” Wanda frowned, setting down the frying pan she was wiping down.

“People like you? What exactly do you mean by that?” Her question left no room for nonsense, but there was a softness in her eyes, a genuine confusion as to why you thought you wouldn’t deserve to be happy. Your eyes widened at your slip up.

“Uh- us. I meant people like us. T-there’s no certainty in what we do, anyone we dare to love could die at any time. Missions, threats, enemies- we’re surrounded by danger; we can’t risk getting close to anyone. It’s hard enough not being able to save innocent people you don’t know; I don’t know if I could handle losing someone who wasn’t just a civilian to me.” The kitchen fell into a somber silence as the other three pondered your comment. They knew it was true. They couldn’t not.

Nat shook her head. “(Y/N), I know that you’re scared. You want to protect everyone. But you can’t close yourself off and keep yourself from being happy for the rest of your life. Yes, this life is hard and unpredictable. But that just makes it so much more worth it to find happiness for yourself, in whatever form you can, for however long you can. You need to just run with it, be happy, for once. And you’re wrong. There is such a thing as happily ever after. Maybe it won’t last forever, but in that moment, it does. Even if it’s lost five minutes later, that five minutes of happily ever after is so worth the pain. Better to have had and then lost, than to never have had at all.” You were struck by Natasha’s words. Her peridot eyes shone with wetness, a faint smile gracing her full lips as her eyes glazed over in nostalgia.

You knew she was talking about Bruce. You had been there for her through every step of their story; her realization that she loved him, her confession, his hesitance due to the fear that he couldn’t give her a love she deserved, their brief moment of happily ever after, her heartbreak after his decision to disappear, and her recovery from it all. You had always thought that you would never let yourself hurt the way she had hurt, but now, as you reflected on how happy she had been before Bruce had hit stealth mode on that jet after Sokovia and disappeared into an oxymoronically fond yet painful memory, you felt a foreign sense of desire for that moment before the heartbreak. That perfect moment before the tide falls.

While you knew Bucky didn’t love you as you secretly did him, you knew that with your life, you rarely would get a moment in which there were no worries of impending threats and responsibilities. While maybe it wouldn’t be a romantic one, perhaps your five minutes of happiness could be that brief moment of serenity, a weekend away with your best friend and family, celebrating not a successful mission in which there were no casualties or lost friends, but the joining of two innocent lives on a path leading to their own happily ever after forever.

You met Nat’s eyes again, letting out a soft exhale, and she knew she had finally gotten through to you.

“You’re right. It won’t end up being romantic like the movies, but maybe it’ll be worth it. A weekend away with my best friend and family. Be a nice chance to get away from all this for a second. Pretend to be on my way to having what my sister has. Love, stability, I guess it is kind of a nice idea.” Wanda reached across the glossy marble and grabbed your hand, squeezing it gently. The corners of your lips brushed upwards in gratitude, then you met Sam’s eyes over Nat’s shoulder. He nodded, giving you a soft and genuine smile.

You and your three teammates- and now, confidants- fell into an easy chatter while you ate Wanda’s impressively salvaged meal, entirely unaware of a fourth presence lingering just outside the doorway.

Bucky leaned against the wall, mulling over the conversation he had been shamelessly eavesdropping on for the past few minutes, the same thought constantly repeating in his head. While you had insisted that your arrangement with Bucky wouldn’t end up to be romantic, you had never explicitly denied that you didn’t want it to. He knew it was a reach, but a flicker of hope sparked in the blue-eyed soldier’s chest as he continued on his way down the hall to his room.

‘Love, stability, I guess it is kind of a nice idea.’

A/N: Sorry it took a while, but here it is! Part 3 coming soon.

Part 1 (Previous) / Part 3

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