#having a vicious and abusive mother is also suffering

[waywardcrow]

Haircuts and coffee.

Summary: A little story about how Fairy and Bucky meet and how far Fairy could go to protect someone.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x F!Reader.

WC: About 1600 or something.

TW: Very poor science kwnoledge by me, a pair of assholes talking shit, language, references to Bucky’s past as the Winter soldier and the abuse he suffered at Hydra's, physical violence (don’t try this at home), goofiness, someone trips and falls, fluff and feels, reader it's pictured to don't be above 5'3 but I try to don't specify too much, let me know if I missed something.

Disclaimer: English is not my first language, please tell me if I make grammar mistakes.

Everybody talked about “the incident” for a while.

That’s what Tony decided to call when his favorite lab tech decided to blast a not tested powerful weapon at some jerk agents.

In your defense, he had it coming.

Agent Smith was rude, obnoxious and misogynistic, he smelled like instead of water he used his awful cologne to shower and he made the mistake to be rude to Sergeant Barnes in your presence.

Three weeks ago Sergeant Barnes was found innocent of all charges against him and Captain Rogers took him to the Avengers compound so he could start living there while he finished his recovery, you remembered how happy he was that morning, not even Tony’s teasing could get under Steve’s skin and you were so happy for both of them, obviously not everyone shared the feeling.

There were some people whispering, not very enthusiastic about having the former Winter Soldier living there, free, but you decided to don’t engage with them, Agent Hill made very clear you couldn’t keep getting into fights with your coworkers even if they never were physical.

You weren’t a violent person but also you weren’t one to stand and watch something happening when you knew it was wrong.

So you focused on your work.

A simple weapon that could be camouflaged like a normal glove but it had all the power of Tony’s blasters, it was a delicate experiment because the material wasn’t resistant enough to the power source so it ended on fire or the blast wasn’t powerful enough, firing some sparks that only will scare you and no one else.

Tony told you over and over again to don’t pressure perfection which was bullshit because the man survived on caffeine and impostor syndrome most of the days, just like you. You continued to work until you were sure it was good, that’s why you decided to try it in a safe environment and, it was then when it happened.

You heard a couple of agents talk on your way to see Tony, they were watching Sergeant Barnes from the hall without an ounce of shame while he poured some coffee for himself in the kitchen, what you heard made your stomach drop.

“I don’t know why they let him out, he’s a fucking freak” Agent Smith said with a vicious smile in his very symmetrical face.

“Yeah man, they should never left him leave prison” the other, Jameson, agreed.

“They actually should send him back to Hydra, so he gets what he deserves”

At that, you saw Sergeant Barnes flinch and you realized he could hear them even if he was a very good distance.

It broke your heart.

He was so polite when Steve introduced you, he had such a kind smile when his best friend told him he would take him to the best burgers in the city that night as celebration and you read some of the files years ago when Nat put out all of SHIELD and Hydra’s information, you knew things you wished that could get erased from your mind and specially you wished the man in front of you never would have to suffer them, ever.

So yeah, you threw Hill’s advice through the window and went to agent jerk and agent douchebag.

“Take that back, assholes”

You were well aware how you looked, a small nerd with very big glasses and a very short skirt facing some six foot something idiots who could kill you in a heartbeat. Your mother always told you to stop being too impulsive but your father always smiled about it, calling you a troublemaker.

“Don’t get your nose in things that doesn’t concern you, lab rat” Smith didn’t like you, not so much after you declined his offer to go out which was predictable from someone like him, beside him Jameson let out a laugh that made you see red.

“I said: take it back and apologize”

Smith got too close to you for your liking, enjoying being able to stared down at you, like you were nothing.

“Or what? Are you going to cry? Or would you ask your new friend to kill me like he used-“ you didn’t let him finish, with a flick of your wrist, he got send backwards alongside his buddy, making both of them fly across the hall to the empty conference room to end in the garden, a floor below.

You looked at your hand, the good news was your experiment worked, the bad was Maria would not like this.

That was how you ended in disciplinary action, thankfully Tony and Steve interceded for you, watching with Friday’s help the footage of the incident, Smith and Jameson had to apologize to Sergeant Barnes and you didn’t have to do the same with them. When they presented a complain, Tony swore the footage of the incident was gone and there was no way they could prove you hurt them. Also he promised them they would have nice assignments waiting for them after their recovery… in Alaska.

Maria was not speaking to you, tired of cleaning everyone’s messes. Yelena gave you lots of high fives that made you want to hide when someone else watch you both, and Steve, he was thankful for your intervention and you didn’t regret it but his friend couldn’t look at you in the eyes anymore.

It wasn’t that obvious because as part of you punishment, you had to spend a lot of time in the training facilities with Nat, Maria was convinced that it was perfect because you hated exercise and she was right, you were in hell.

Even if Nat was one of your best friends, she was a relentless trainer, tough and disciplined, all you weren’t when it came to run in circles.

“Come on, Fairy” she yelled at you from her position, very ahead of you “I need you to run like Pedro Pascal is waiting for you!”

The sweat was blinding you, your lungs felt on fire and still you managed to scream at her like a suffocated turtle.

“Don’t you dare use Pedro’s name in vain!”

The redhead laughed, running backwards like it was easy, for her it probably was and then you saw him.

Not Pedro Pascal, of course, although you were sure he was friends with Pepper and she didn’t want to tell you.

You saw Sergeant Barnes coming towards the run track, it wasn’t strange since he and Steve used it a lot but his hair, it was different. He had cut all his long locks leaving only a very modern haircut that make his cheekbones more evident.

Before you could think about closing your mouth, your foot got caught in something and you fell.

It was so embarrassing being in the med bay for this.

Sam would never let you hear the end of it, Yelena got the footage and made a tik tok reel just for you, Morgan was the only one who took pity on you and left you a bag of Sour patch when she went to see you.

You were fine with all of that, the teasing of your friends and even your sore wrist but your literal high school celebrity crush saw you hit the dust, all because you were so busy staring at him. It was a good thing he was avoiding you.

Because life loved to make fun of you, he went to see you at the med bay.

“Hi miss, Fairy, I mean miss Fairy” he wasn’t sure he could get to call you by the pet name everybody used with you even if Steve had introduced you like that. Bucky knew your real name, of course, but you seemed to like being called Fairy and if he was honest with himself, it suited you.

“It’s everything ok, Sergeant?” your first instinct was to check on him and it didn’t went unnoticed by Bucky.

“Yeah, I am” he put a cup pf coffee in the bedside table and looked at you like he wanted to run from there “I came to see how you are, it was a very bad fall”

Your cheeks burned, why did this have to happen to you? If seventeen year old you could see you right now, she would slapped you for making this impression on Bucky Barnes, your favorite Howling commando, the reason you wanted to join SHIELD and even when you couldn’t, you still tried to do something good with your life.

“Yeah, it wasn’t- I mean, I’m fine” you smiled but it looked more like a grimaced gesture.

He wasn’t convinced, your arm had scratches and your left cheekbone was red, Bucky felt bad for waiting until this happened to talk to you.

“I brought you some coffee, Steve told me you like it like this” he lied, Bucky had observed you enough to know how you liked it, which was natural since you drank it like it was water. He fought the urge to hide his gloved hands on his pockets “I didn’t get to thank you”

“What for?” you asked before taking a sip of your cup, it was perfect.

“For standing for me, that day”

His voice sounded small even being this close to you and he hated it.

He hated you heard what they said, he hated that you felt bad for him and that he found you so beautiful when he had no chance with you.

Biting your lip, you left your drink and looked at him in the eyes.

“I didn’t want you to think they represent us, they don’t, there’s a lot of douchebags but there’s also a lot of good people here and we will support you” it sounded so cheesy but it was true, what kind of superheroes organization they would be if they don’t take care of their own people?

Bucky stared at you, not wanting to believe you were real, why were you being so kind with him? And why did he wanted more?

“Thanks, Fairy” this time, your pet name sounded sure on his tongue and it made you smile.

“No need to thank me, Sergeant”

“Please, call me Bucky”

Hello! I wanted to write this so bad and I didn't care if it was very self indulgent and silly, I needed this, I love Fairy and Bucky so much and I hope you love them too, let me know what you think.

Love, Lily.

[ihopesocomic]

As someone who suffered from an abusive mother, genuinely thank you for making this comic, and especially how you portrayed Vicious. Thank you for condemning her actions while also acknowledging she is an abuse victim. Mother went through something similar and ended up being terrible to me.

Too many works make abusers themselves victims of abuse to justify or erase what they did to others,

or they justify the abuse they went throught by saying "they ended up becoming evil so they deserved to be mistreated in the past before they became evil"

Thank you for not treating her like that

Thank you showing that she didn't deserve to be abused but Jasper, but it also doesn't excuse her actions and what she did to Hope

No problem, anon! Sorry to hear about what happened to you and I hope you're doing OK nowadays.

And completely agree. It's also a thing that applies to irl too. Too many people think that being abused enables other people to be abusive too and that's not remotely how it works. Like you can totally show pity towards said people and hope that they get therapy but completely enabling and excusing said behaviour is always going to have the whole 'I was treated awfully so therefore I get to be awful' cycle just carry on. - RJ

[360degreesasthecrowflies]

The BBC is already not being impartial during the UK election 2024

I shouldn't even be surprised but here we are. So much for any kind of journalistic standard.

Those of you who were around for the last election campaign may remember at that point a far-right party member's claim, which was repeated uncritically and as if it were factual by many media outlets, that he was 'assaulted' by 'a youth on a bicycle' throwing a yogurt at him while he innocently campaigned for his party, which was an example of political violence against his beliefs.

Except it turned out that there was CCTV in the area and no 'youth on a bicycle carrying yogurt' was seen.

What was in fact seen, was the man in question had brought a packed lunch with him for his day out, which contained... a yogurt. Which he either accidentally or deliberately spilled on himself while campaigning, and then took the opportunity to report to his party leadership and the media as an assault, which was then spread around as if factual and it definitely happened, inciting sympathy for the poor innocent far-right people.

Well folks. They're at it again this year.

Here's a fun uncritical headline from the BBC that dropped today:

"Reform election candidate 'attacked' in Cornwall"

What evidence is given for this attack, I hear you ask, given that the BBC has reported it as a factual event in the title?

Well, the chairman of Reform, the party in question, has claimed that it happened, and has made a social media video stating that it happened. Three days ago.

Here's how the article describes it:

"A statement from Reform UK said Mr Rubidge, 51, was handing out election leaflets in Event Square when he was verbally abused by a man believed to be in his 20s. The party said that, as Mr Rubidge tried to leave the scene after two other men turned up, he had a bag he was carrying grabbed off him by the first man.

He was eventually able to "wrestle the bag" back off the man, but he was punched and kicked multiple times, leaving him with injuries to his ligaments, Reform added. The incident left Mr Rubidge shaken and shocked, the party's statement said.

In his social media video, Mr Tice said he was "appalled" after hearing about the alleged incident. He said: "This is no way of having a democratic debate and discussion. "We can disagree, but we don't fight each other. That's not what our democracy is about."

He added Mr Rubidge did go back on the campaign trail for a further four hours on Saturday."

Nowhere in the article (archived ver. June 18th 2024) does the BBC make clear that this is not an impartial account of what has been determined to have actually happened, but rather, a biased account from a political party representative that has likely been crafted in conjunction with a PR specialist in order to stretch the truth as far as possible in order to present the campaigner as innocent, a victim, and suffering due to his innocent political beliefs that are UNDER ASSAULT by vicious strangers who are JUST INTOLERANT for no reason.

The article, of course, comes complete with a smiling image of the campaigner in question, looking as innocent as possible. The article is careful not to mention any of the content of the leaflets that the campaigner was handing out which may have caused some backlash if, perhaps, the camapigner was also shouting about some of the content of the leaflets while handing them out in a city center at midday on a Saturday: for context, Reform UK as a political party want to ban ALL immigration to the country, to deport international students even if they have already paid for their education in the UK, to remove all unemployment benefits from citizens who are struggling, to stop investing in any kind of renewable energy sources, to get rid of all diversity and inclusion practices, and to ban 'transgender ideology' including the admittance that trans people even exist from all schools and educational institutions. They also believe that 'the majority of mothers want to stay at home' instead of working.

Going back to the article, apparently the poor campaigner in question who was definitely ASSAULTED HORRIBLY and completely UNPROVOKED ended up with 'injuries to his ligaments'. This is a serious injury and would be quite debilitating to deal with and would require immediate treatment and some bed rest and gentle exercise for days therafter to aid recovery.

Interesting then, isn't it, that the campaigner in question was then able to then keep campaigning for a further four hours with such a horrendous injury?

The BBC and other media outlets need to realise that this isn't a fun RPG or game of who can present something the most quickly to 'win', accuracy be damned, or a situation where it's fine to save time doing your own research by just repeating a political organisation's press release about an incident as factual, verbatim.

This is a real election, the only election that will happen between now and 2029. The BBC is supposed to be impartial. Reporting an alleged assault as if it were factual and exactly as described by somebody with an interest in making it out to be as bad as possible, and trusting that all readers will be able to read between the lines of what is said and understand that your write-up of the event is actually just reporting what someone else SAID about the event rather than an unbiased record is at this point in time EXTREMELY irresponsible.

Journalists, your job, especially now, is to report what's happening to inform the public. You can report what someone THINKS is happening, but only if you make very clear that you are doing so, and ideally only report that within a larger piece that discusses just the facts of the situation. It's okay if details are unknown - it's better to note that than to put anything in, no matter if it's been fact-checked or not. The BBC is publicly funded, it and its staff don't need to be the first on the scene to react or comment on any given situation, it's not like anyone's going to get more funding or any reward for doing that.

You can't claim to be impartial on the one hand and on the other, uncritically report something that a political party has a vested interest to lie about as if it were definitely and wholly factual. And the BBC keeps doing this, as if there's no way anyone could ever lie about a situation in order to advantage themselves.

Wake up, BBC.

[smilesession]

extremely candid, tell-all thoughts about sacrifice and familial codependency, potentially emotional incest, mentions of abuse

I have watched sacrifice become the root of all suffering, but sacrifice has become cemented as a vicious cycle with no clear path of escape as its own result.

How can I dare to place judgment or blame on my mother? A woman who gave up so much of herself in service to her disabled husband and disabled child. I watched her, when I was growing up, working up to 80 hours a week, sometimes I would stay up all night with her at the office and feel bewildered and exhilarated from exhaustion. For me it was an adventure, for her it was obligation and I can hardly imagine how she felt. Its evidence of her incredible fortitude. While she worked this hard, she was also solely responsible for taking care of the home, taking care of a significantly autistic daughter, and taking care of a negligent, drug-addicted, manipulative husband. She also hit me almost every day.

When my parents met, my father was in his early 30s (to my mother's mid-20s) and he was dying of late-stage congestive heart failure. He had 6 months to live. He lived in absolute squalor, working part-time doing something or another to do with printing signs, in spite of having a business degree, while my mom was a homeowner and worked full time in a finance position despite not having a college education. On their first meeting, my mom gave him advice on how to better maintain his long hair that he grew out to his waist but didn't wash or take care of. She was not particularly interested in him until she found out he was dying. My mom attached herself to the idea of future-widow, secretly, finding a promise of eternal validation in martyrdom. They married after 6 months and she played the role of dutiful wife; she moved him into her home, she navigated the medical system for him, she and her own mother kept him fed and comfortable, she paid for his increasingly experimental and niche treatments, and she sat at his bedside in the Mayo Clinic, both loving him and privately waiting for his death.

He didn't die. I was conceived shortly after the heart transplant. She wanted to leave him when he went back to using drugs, feeling that it was an act of disrespect to her, to her family, and to the young man who was his organ donor. She decided that leaving wasn't an option, due to the extent he depended on her. He also refused, by threats and by stubbornness, to let her leave.

The next best thing to being a widow is to be a martyr. She conceded to letting him never go back to work, and she began working longer and longer hours and striving harder. His job was to take care of me and the home. For him, this was a free ticket to eternal adolescence; for my entire childhood if he wasn't verbally abusing me he was locked behind a door, in his private room, getting high and watching either the news or Adult Swim or old concert videos on TV. He resented my natural neediness as a young child, and said to me, quantifiably more than he said anything else, "the next time you need something, I won't be there for you", and he stuck to his word. In my memory, I can't remember a single time he reacted to my needing something with anything more than complete disdain, by waving me off with his hand. He would sleep for most of the day and sometimes forget to pick me up from school. He would not sacrifice one moment of comfort for anything in the world - he is pathologically incapable of it. My mom, on top of working as much as she did, solely took care of keeping the home clean, attending to my needs, and attending to him. Again, she also hit me almost every day and openly despised me until I was an adult.

They never divorced, even though I begged her to. She would always say to me, "he wouldn't be able to survive on his own". He doesn't require around-the-clock medical care; what she meant is that he doesn't possess basic life skills. He never learned how to use the internet, does not manage his doctor's appointments, has never cleaned anything, and has never submitted a job application for himself. My mom handles all of this. When he did finally get a job, part-time at a casino, my mom delivered him lunch every day.

Once when I was really little, maybe a 2nd grader, I wrote a set of comics while at school, "My Mom is Busy!" and "My Dad is Lazy!" where I drew her going to work and him laying in bed. I wasn't trying to be mean, I was trying to depict my life. When he saw them, he insisted that I'd done it to humiliate him by lying.

For my entire life, I've watched my mom run from herself by dissolving into service to others. She dissolved her own will in service of him, by overworking, and taking on charitable volunteering on top of it. The older I get I simultaneously gain more respect for this, and more grief. I think that amount of sacrifice is a type of escape, and a type of bargaining, and a type of groveling. I think its a cycle in which she wants to do anything possible to try to prove the slightest bit of worth in herself, because she doesn't feel she has it inherently.

My entire childhood she talked horribly about herself and called herself fat and ugly even though she's always been objectively beautiful. We often dieted together and I liked it because it seemed like it made her happy in some way. I think I carry every part of her pathology, replicated into me.

Self-martyrdom is trying to outrun yourself, to displace pieces of yourself into other people, trying to force others to being your mirror, all the while making it less and less likely. It's implicitly a humiliating insult. It's implicitly dehumanizing to everyone involved. I can never dislike my mother, because you can't help but love and admire someone who faces adversity by giving more and more. I have eternal, bottomless love for her that's only made stronger by the contrast with my father, who responded to adversity by making it everyone else's problem, by being entitled and ungrateful, for feeling like heaven and earth were owed to him for absolutely nothing.

As my mother's daughter I become a martyr inherently by loving her. I want to be that perfect mirror, I want her to see the good in herself in me, instead of seeing "proof" of her perceived insufficiency. Sacrifice inherently makes you look to others to know who you are. I know firsthand that when you sacrifice yourself for a weaponized-incompetent partner, you see yourself as a subhuman, you see that nothing you can do is good enough. And it goes on permanently and you become more twisted and monstrous in your own eyes the less and less you're "appreciated". It's about the self, but it feels like overly simplistic pop-psych to call it narcissism proper. Focus on Self is displaced entirely on caretaking the Other. In this kind of sacrifice, you erase yourself and become a sacrificial object. My mom isn't a narcissist, she's completely invisible to herself. My dad is blatantly a narcissist. On top of all of this, he degrades her for her tastes and preferences and requires everything be done in accordance to his own. She is not able to watch tv shows, listen to music, etc without his open judgment, mockery, and condemnation.

But is it not narcissistic to think you can save anyone from their own decisions? Making yourself a sacrificial (thereby holy, superior, not-human) object in service is still believing you're capable of the impossible. She would have been lucky if he died. I wish he could have died even though it means I wouldn't have been born. I would sacrifice myself for her.

I struggle to break the cycle because it would be betraying her.

[crisiscutie]

Why do you think some people think just because Hojo is unattractive to them, that somehow makes him not Sephiroth's father? Do they not consider that maybe Hojo looked like Sephiroth when he was young or maybe he got his looks from Lucrecia?

*cracks knuckles* You got me stepping into hot water, now. Disclaimer: Most of this is just my opinion.

I think this phenomenon also comes from the camp of people who just want Vincent to be Sephiroth's father. While people can hold differing opinions, the cold, hard truth is that Sephiroth is, without a doubt, Hojo's son. Not only by their physical similarities, particularly in 7R, but also by the several overlapping personality traits that they share. The apple doesn't fall far from the tree. If I recall correctly, they even have a similar laugh!

These strong similarities are also why Hojo projects on Sephiroth. His son is the living embodiment of his dream of transcending humanity through his scientific brilliance. He is also undoubtedly an abusive parent who displayed an unhealthy obsession with his child. He repeatedly endangered him, objectified him, and followed him obsessively. I mean, the Silver Elite existed before Sephiroth was even a teenager!

As for their personality traits, it's important to know Sephiroth and Hojo share a ruthless drive towards their goals. They do not care about morals and ethics. They will get what they want no matter what. Hojo also shares Sephiroth's intense narcissism and disregard for most humans. Yes, even pre-Nibelheim Sephiroth had shades of this as well. While Sephiroth's narcissistic tendencies can be traced back to his position as Shinra's prized weapon, it becomes more reminiscent of Hojo's narcissism after his descent into evil. I believe it's possible that Sephiroth suffers from a form of Acquired Situational Narcissism. Give that link a click to learn more about it.

Their physical similarity is debatable in older games, but in 7R? They share a much stronger resemblance. It's clear they have many similarities in their facial features, including their nose, lips, facial shape, hairlines, and so on. Of course, Sephiroth still has traits from his mother as well, some in personality and appearance. But boy, do some underestimate the similarities between father and son.

I also think a good deal of this phenomenon is due to Draco in Leather's Pants. Sephiroth is a tragic villain, but it's easy to forget that "villain" part as well. It's disgusting and tragic that our Crisis Cutie was subjected to such inhumane experimentation, exploitation, and other abuse which nobody should ever have to go through. But since Nibelheim, Sephiroth has become a sadistic and vicious man who will do whatever it takes to achieve his goals.

He deliberately seeks to hurt Cloud, his friends, and others. He takes great care in planning his words and actions accordingly. No one truly knows if Nibelheim Incident Sephiroth was acting out of his free will or was being controlled by Jenova, but I've always believed the former, with hints of Jenova's influence. From what I believed, his intense anger and feelings of despair, he took out his frustration on the innocent people living in the town he happened to be in, killing and hurting even children. The main characters, especially Cloud and Tifa, have good reason to fear and despise him.

Advent Children Sephiroth, I consider being pure evil. He sees everyone, even his own remnants, as tools to be used and he is out to make everyone suffer. I don't think some people understand how horrifying Geostigma is. The disease not only causes physical deterioration, which happens slowly and painfully, but it also viciously attacks your psychological state. You are feeling agony and despair in EVERY SENSE. And guess who makes up a majority of Geostigma victims? Children. Especially those who come from disadvantaged circumstances. Sephiroth had it out for everyone (especially poor Cloud) in that movie.

What makes Sephiroth interesting for me is his complexity. Even though he thinks he's above humanity, he demonstrates his humanity on multiple occasions, in subtle and obvious events. He finds solace and love in Jenova as he projects his motherhood fantasies onto her. He feels that both she and he were wronged by humanity, thus need to need to enact their vengeance on the world. And not only does he feel a strong sense of belonging with Jenova, but he also desires to carry on her mission of conquering and obliterating other worlds in the universe in her name. That is some serious devotion and love right there. I recall a moment in 7R where, after the party defeats the Jenova Dreamweaver, Sephiroth just looks so dejected as he picks up Jenova's body. Seeing an extension of his mother getting hurt is obviously upsetting for him.

Jenova is a tool for him to project his fantasies onto her, and with her being a blank slate, she can transform into anything he desires, his insecurities aren't present around her. But around Cloud and others, the insecurities are present. Sephiroth deflects to protect himself and to manipulate Cloud and the group. He is well-aware of the similarity between him and Cloud. Check out this gifset for an example of those common Sephiroth deflections.

As I said in my rules, we love the Crisis Cutie at his best and worst on this blog. Although Sephiroth is a tragic villain who did not deserve the horrific abuse he suffered, he made the conscious decision to continue a cycle of pain and hatred created by Shinra.

I'm crossing my fingers that Rebirth and Ever Crisis can capture the complexity of his character and give him the treatment he deserves. I don't want Sephiroth to be woobified more than he is already, but I also don't want his villainy to get overplayed either. I want to see more of Sephiroth's complexity and his identity crisis.

[thegreymoon]

Oof, Minglan is ruthless.

A senior member of the family commits a crime and the servant takes the brunt of the blame. She has learned the game.

***

Aww, Wang Ruofu is actually begging for her.

Her biggest problem is that she is not inherently cruel and evil, but she is so biased and stupid and easily led, that she may as well be.

***

I still don't understand how these gags in c-drams work and why you can't just spit them out.

***

Seriously! She just kidnapped a bunch of people.

How is this legal?

***

Seriously, how are they allowed to do this?

Servants or not, they at the very least belong to another government official's house and you can't just torture and kill a bunch of them at will!

***

LMAO, vicious!

***

Yikes 😬

This mafia don behaviour, and while pregnant, too! Poor servant, she should have kept her mouth shut.

***

Oh, yeah, you fell for her meek and obedient act hook, line and sinker!

This time, you really chose the wrong person to mess with.

***

LMAO, I love that she is calling Minlgan heartless and ruthless when she herself just tried to poison an old woman just because she got butthurt.

And that's before we even get to all the crap she is responsible for in her own house.

***

OMG, Minglan?? 😮😮

Taxian-jun would be proud 😅

***

Isn't that the thing, though?

Wang Ruofu didn't raise her. Minglan suffered all that neglect and abuse because she was not actually her daughter and her true mother was dead.

***

LMAO, eldest sister-in-law is the only sensible one here 🤣🤣

She sees things are getting out of hand and that Minglan has lost her entire mind. Better get Changbai home ASAP!

***

LMAO, looks like the Kang house is saying, good riddance! And the Wang house is trying to save face.

I feel like Aunt Kang's husband would also send Minglan a gift basket if she by some miracle followed through on killing his shit wife.

***

Oh, shut up.

I am so tired of her screeching and whining.

***

I love how these shit people keep calling Minglan ruthless and evil when they are the ones poisoning people left and right.

They just ended up poisoning the wrong woman because they were so used to getting away with everything.

***

LMAO, Wang Ruofu deserves this. Of course this wretch threw her under the bus.

***

LMFAO

Because now that Changbai is absent and Granny is out of commission, Six Miss is the only one with a working brain among them all. OK, I'm unfair, the eldest sis-in-law also has a working brain, but she's not getting involved.

***

WTF?

What is Minglan's endgame here?

[deathlygristly]

Sometimes I find things I wrote online a long time ago and they contain memories that I no longer have.

I've seen that post about what would you have posted about if you were on here when you were 11, and I was like hmmm, the Holocaust, My Little Pony, ACC basketball, Sherlock Holmes, Edgar Allan Poe, The Little Mermaid, Animaniacs, Tiny Toons, and also apparently according to the old posts I found Gandhi and MLK Jr. It would appear that several years ago I remembered a fascination with them coming after the interest in the Holocaust.

Which makes sense, I guess. Little me trying to find some hope in humanity afterwards. I mean, that is around the time my mother signed me up for Big Brother, Big Sister. I heard her on the phone saying that she didn't know what to do with me and I was terrified she was giving me up for adoption. Turned out it was more that she didn't know how to handle an existentially depressed preteen who would look at the most beautiful spring days and imagine smoke rising from the crematorium.

Also when I wrote those posts I was having a similar reaction about healthcare here in the US, trying to find a way to live in a world where I was under the control of other members of my species who were fine with extreme suffering and cruelty and who enjoyed causing it. It was shortly after the ulcer where my choices were to go to the ER or die, so the cost of healthcare here was on my mind a lot.

Then came Trump, and finally my choices were adapt to living on the same planet as humans or die. I chose to adapt. Got medication for the anxiety and managed to find some level of seeing and appreciating the most beautiful spring days and being extremely happy with that and just letting the human darkness go so I could live.

So if I don't reblog much political content on here and I unfollow/block people I don't know well who reblog a lot of the darker and more vicious stuff, it's because of that choice. Me talking about how awesome the spousal person is, about how it's fun to watch kdramas and try teas with him, about how cool the cats are, etc - that's all me choosing to live.

Humans are gonna human and I can't stop it or control it or do anything about it, but I can appreciate beauty and I can laugh and I can pet cats and I can hug the spousal person and I can live as well as I can, since I was born on this planet and I have no other choice anyway.

It is still interesting and fun occasionally to wonder about how humans work and to try to understand where the cruelty and enjoyment of causing suffering comes from or even how much of it is the result of conscious choice and how much of it is just the unfortunate result of how human brains work in certain situations.

And if anything trying to learn about that more has helped, because the more I've learned the more I've realized that a lot of it comes from a cycle of abuse and trauma and how human brains react to that cycle, and how most humans aren't scary monsters who enjoy hurting others. They're mostly just traumatized and/or ignorant and/or trying to survive as best they know how and/or desperate to stay included in their tribe. They're more pitiful than scary, and I mean pitiful as in inspiring much pity, not as an insult.

I think probably the only thing I can do about humans being human is to try to be kind and help others, and doing what I can to keep myself joyful helps with that.

I don't know. Anyway tonight we're going to pick up a sanity pill refill, aka escitalopram, and eat at our favorite restaurant, so we'll only have time for one episode. Which there aren't any new shows airing today that we're into so it'll be an episode of Faith, aka The Great Doctor. It's from 2012 when kdramas did not have the budget they have now and it's very amusing. Also it's from before the Joseon Exorcist controversy so it's actually based on real history near the end of the Goryeo dynasty and it's fun learning about the real people the characters are based on.

[navree]

I remember one of your answers you said that the most similar characters to Aegon are Tyrion,Theon,and Aeron why these three specifically ? I'm curious

So for those who don't remember that, this was specifically about who I would compare show!Aegon to in response to all those people who were like "omg new Joffrey" even tho he's not like Joffrey at all (there's an ask about that somewhere but I can't locate it at the moment), and I do believe I said that show!Aegon reads more to me as an amalgamation of Tyrion, Theon, and Aeron.

All three of them share a common trait in that they have used or still do use debauchery as a coping mechanism for deep internal wounds. Tyrion drinks way too much and frequents sex workers because of the ableism he's endured all his life and the abuse he's suffered at the hands of his family, Theon is vain and unserious and cocky to make up for his feelings of otherness and displacement due to being a hostage at Winterfell, Aeron very likely was using drinking and whoring and playing around to try and deal with the lasting trauma from being a victim of sexual abuse, and Aegon, as I've mentioned numerous times, is clearly a wastrel who hardcore abuses susbtances to deal with the fact that he feels not only unloved but genuinely unlovable. Each of them developed unhealthy and negative coping mechanisms to deal with feeling pained deep inside in ways that they feel cannot be alleviated, only medicated and steadfastly ignored, and this has negatively impacted how they're viewed by others, including by members of their own families, which only compounds the feelings of isolation that they all deal with (Tyrion again due to being the undesired dwarf son, Theon due to being sent away, Aeron due to just having consciously separated himself and devoted himself to the Drowned God, Aegon due to being seen as a disappointment by his mother and his siblings in spite of their love for him).

Complicated relationships with their families is something that they all share, though to varying degrees of toxicity. Tyrion and Aeron have it worse, since Tyrion was put down and viciously abused by his father and his sister, and by Jaime due to his complicity in the Tysha debacle, and Aeron not only doesn't appear to have been close to any of his brothers (with the exception of traumabonding with Urri, who he harbors a lot of guilt for "killing" before his conversion) but was also serially molested by one of them, which has had a longlasting impact in the form of what's clearly severely untreated PTSD. But Theon himself feels outcast from his family due to the time he spent in Winterfell and how they seem to blame him for the crime of being a hostage, and Aegon's feelings that his family doesn't love him in spite of how much he cares is just the vicious cycle of parents and children and siblings fucking each other up until he and Alicent start clearing the air with the "do you love me" exchange and trying to defend each other from Meleys. They've also got complex sibling dynamics that are all messy and not easy to untangle (Tyrion with Jaime and Cersei, Aeron and his brothers even aside from Euron being his abuser, Theon and Asha, Aegon and Aemond and Helaena but particularly Aemond, as I have ranted about substantially in the past) and that are all going to play huge parts in whatever arcs remain to them for the rest of the series.

Aegon's similarities with Aeron himself have already been more firml outlined, such as a tendency to turn to religion when dealing with bad things happening to them and a lack of personal closeness to others, and again, bad coping mechanisms. Theon and Aegon share that feeling of isolation specific to having an otherwise cohesive family unit, like the way Asha is not only so much more at home in Pyke than he is but also how much closer she is to Baelon than he is, and how she views herself as better than him (though not without reason), while Aegon clearly feels at odds with how close his mother and Aemond are, and his own feelings of inadequacy as it relates to Aemond even as he loves him and Aemond's apparent disdain for him, since we know that Aegon is willing to go to the mat for Aemond (ironically not dissimilar to the way that Asha does for Theon), though Aemond himself is willing to also go to the mat for his brother and that relationship is only going to get more codependent as the show goes on. Tyrion and Aegon also share a similarity in how their arcs are going to go, as Tyrion is clearly spiraling further and further into darkness and is likely going to be a corrupting influence on Dany before he's either pulled back or goes all the way and dies, much like how Aegon himself is going to slip slower and slower into darkness and ruthlessness, culminating in how he executes Rhaenyra and how he almost kinslays Baela, both motivated by strong feelings of loss and feeling that there's nothing left (Tyrion killed his dad and feels he lost Jaime due to the Tysha confession and not to mention his entire feelings of hopelessness about Tysha and that tragedy, while Aegon's going to lose nearly all of his family members and the near death of Baela is motivated by his grief over losing Sunfyre). And there's a minor thread in the connection to food and poison, and Tyrion wonders in ADWD if The Mushrooms are poisoned, while Aegon himself does die of poisoning (either murder or suicide).

I think all three characters share similarities with the show's interpretation of Aegon, both as a group and on their own individual merits, certainly more than fucking Joffrey.

[zeciex]

What's your favorite quality/charactistic about your OC? Least favorite? And did you put some/a lot of yourself in your OC?

These are such great questions, thank you for asking them!

I think my favorite quality/characteristic about Daenera is her duality; How gentle she can be, yet how vengeful and vicious. She has her own moral compass and it can go from poisoning her husband/murdering him to childishly throwing herself into Helaena's lap to complain about how annoying Aemond is. It's fun to write a character that can do both.

My least favorite thing about Daenera is that she can and will be stupid sometimes. She has a tendency to make things harder for herself, and she is very much willing to suffer in an effort to save her pride. Does she have to keep quiet about the abuse? No, but she is stupid and prideful. Could she have Finan communicate with her mother? Yes, but she doesn't want to risk it even though it would save her A LOT of trouble down the line. Maybe its not so much stupidity but general pride.

I definitely put some of myself into Daenera; her love for poisons, her interest in stories/history and scrappy-ness. I can be very creative and often sees a lot of things differently, which means I handle it differently.

But Daenera is very much an amalgamation of some of my favorite characteristics that I find in characters; willful, conniving, scheming, subtle, sly, self-sacrificing and yet selfish. I love characters that use what they have to get what they want--I love characters that scheme and plot, I like the ones that can be cruel and malicious but is damaged an in need of a hug. And I also thought it was important to get a female character that was feminine, that has flaws and can be stupid, idiotic and can fail. I wanted her to be biased and very much be informed/a product of her environment and those around her, and I wanted her to fit within the world of A song of Ice and Fire. While she doesn't like the patriarchy she can both fall victim to it AND be a perpetrator of it, as this is the most realistic within this world. But I still give her some grace about it.

Daenera has a lot of love to give--and once she's found someone to love, she has a hard time turning it off again.

[radiomonkeys2]

More Yabanverse worldbuilding. Originally drawn by Ishida1694, here's the introduction of Drugatsko and the Devastators.

This is perhaps the "fullest" arc within the Yabanverse itself, and certainly the most in-depth I've done (even moreso than the history of Kollidor, at least at this point in time), but to truncate it extensively:

Drugatsko is a bolloi who has become the Ultra-Khan and Ido of Planet Mezara, reigning over a race of humans known as the Devastators. The Devastators were once a race of humans self-named as Shaeshens. Long ago, their world was fairly modern (similar to 1950s Earth, if also a fantasy world). But a cataclysmic world war left only one country standing as the sole superpower right as that nation was undergoing a severe ultra-traditionalist revival that left a Taliban-like totalitarian regime in control. This country imposed their will on the entire planet, forcing their technological civilization to collapse back into a pastoralist and quaint theocratic society, vicious and totally repressing their women to the insane point that they even banned the depiction of female characters in fiction. Despite their fanaticism, they did these things and more out of a desire to live a pacifistic lifestyle opposed to war and conflict. But one day, a mysterious female warrior arrived from outer space. She had been injured in a battle with a martial wizard and crashlanded on Mezara in a desperate attempt to avoid dying in space. This was Drugatsko, and she recognized Mezara as a world that had been visited by the Ultra-Khan of the Yabans. They had rejected the Ultra-Khan's message to prepare for the Universal Awakening Plan, instead turning away from the martial path and seeking peace. Indeed, ironically it had been the Ultra-Khan's message of imminent total cosmic war that had helped to trigger the fundamentalist uprising, for they presumed that Rahal had been an emissary of the Antichrist instead. Now that Drugatsko was alone with this disarmed race of weak humans, even in her own damaged state, she managed to effortlessly crush those who attempted to impose their religious restrictions on her and get her to submit. So enraged was she by the Shaeshen's turn towards religious pacifism that she took her sweet time making sure the end of Shaeshen civilization was as slow, drawn out, and painful as she could make it. How pathetic! To disarm yourself! To give up war! To turn away from combat! These weaklings were so pathetic that finishing them off would be too kind.

Indulging in pure Saiyan monstrousness, she didn't collapse the last standing nation until almost five years after she landed, all because she craved to soak in the raw despair and despondency of the Shaeshens. Oh how lovely it was to see these old grandfathers and their black-clad crones weep in despair over fallen icons and burning churches. How laugh-inducing it was to watch communities tear themselves apart over bread, starved by the collapse of agriculture, only to run in fear and horror at her very visage. Observe as political leaders and high-priests fall unto their knees, begging her for mercy forgiveness. HER. Not their god. Oh their God has forsaken them. She walks their God like a dog.

Drugatsko, a bolloi, a fellow female in this cosmic sorority, could have been the fem-Messiah for Shaeshen women and overthrow this wretched patriarchy. How could their star-sister not take pity on them? Could she not see how horribly her kind were suffering under the yoke of male supremacy? The women did nothing wrong except be born without dicks and with human emotions, and for that, they were abused so horribly, treated as defective property and not even allowed to have their own word. They weren't women— they were "the other kinds of people," a deliberately cumbersome moniker.

She, the space warrior, is just a wife and mother to be. She could be a competent warrioress who has laid waste to all planets in any number of galaxies, conquered trillions of civilizations, and defeated any great number of proud warriors, and the only thing they’ll care about is her answer to the question, “But can you cook and clean?” Please, the other kinds of people begged, save them.

And she replied, “No.” The women were betrayed.

Drugatsko had every woman on the planet murdered. She made it so that they were often killed in front of their families, just to amplify the pain and horror and rile the men to greater hatred. Some misogynists and incels celebrated at first until they realized they were now forever without sexual satisfaction. And then they joined the despairing collective masses while Drugatsko watched on from afar, laughing and coiling her tail, her Yeren scimitar raised to the heavens.

The technological regression was reversed, and Shaeshens were able to build breeding chambers and artificial wombs that Drugatsko further pruned to help engineer even more warrior-ready Shaeshens. Before, society was quaint, very much similar to the Amish or Mennonites in a Taliban-like society. Now it was something like a gladiatorial Airstrip One, except headed by a war-sick Yaban. Making things more processed, she brought in slaves and goblins from other worlds to do the dirty work of running society so that the Shaeshen men would not be distracted from their duties of infinite war.

And Drugatsko herself rechristened them with the delightfully boyish moniker "Devastators."

That was over 400 years ago. The Devastators today are a brutalitarian race of ultra-warriors. Mercenaries, barbarians, berserkers, space pirates, hypermasculine mildew distilled. The sudden shift into a unisexual race certainly became clear when they started adopting a BDSM look. Chains and leather, studs and laces, skull armor and facepaint, helmets and mohawks, glammy hair and lipstick, big muscles and battle scars, oh they look like freaks. They ride on hypermasculine heavy metal machines and scream through the night, always hunting for war and conquest. They're fairly well known for looking like road warriors and drag pirates, though with barbarian pelts and skullcrusher gear. They'd all have horribly cheesy death metal names like Wolfmaster Skullcrusher, Killmaster Supreme, King Dick, Godric the Demon Raper, Megas the Heart Eater, Turbo Joe, Max Powersteel, and more. And beyond even them are specially engineered freaks, pseudo-hulks of power known as "Mutoid Men," disgusting displays of raw power with multicolored skin that are oft fed cocktails of pure nexcidium to keep them in a permanent nexcidious berserker rage.

The full story of Mezara and its history is much, much longer than this, as I've detailed pretty much the full historical timeline from a certain point onwards, to the point if I so desired, I could turn the Mezara saga alone into an entire series of alternate universe/history fantasy novels without ever even touching the arrival of Drugatsko.

Devastators are a loveletter to that style of glammy, homoerotic 80s ultramasculinity of big men with big muscles, often clad in new wave/glam rock duds and face paint with punk or metal hair, road warrior fashion, and military worship, essentially Rambo and Arnie filtered through Bruce Lee, Kenshiro, Max Rockatansky, and every adorably badass 80s arcade character.

The concept behind the Shaeshens/Devastators stems back many years.

Around 2018-2019 or so, I came up with the concept of "masculinist-primitivists"— manosphere types so extreme that they'd even be willing to erase female characters from fiction.

And that wasn't even something I came up with really. It was more me recognizing actual trends in the world, especially in Afghanistan under the Taliban:

The Devastators themselves came from me listening to this over-the-top thrash metal song called "Male Supremacy" and combining it with that above mentioned dystopian society

I thought "Wouldn't it be ironic if a Planet Taliban came under the bootheel of a Saiyan-like war freak? Especially a FEMALE war-freak?" Imagine if Fem-Raditz dropped onto Earth, defeated Goku and Piccolo, and decided to take over the planet to create a rival to the Freeza Force instead.

And as a result it became some bizarro mixture of Nineteen Eighty-Four, Mad Max, Hokuto no Ken, and Warhammer 40k

[amnotaqueen]

I Didn't Know He Lies To His Friends Too

Ever since the elders shepherding call, I have gone downhill emotionally. I had gotten to the place of radical acceptance, or at least I had gotten the closest to it than I had ever been before. I reach out to the elders because I don't have a support system. I don't want my husband doing cruel things to my son and I and everyone have no knowledge of it. It bothers me that no one in the congregation knows the truth about how he is. It also bothers me that it seems like people would rather stay as ignorant as possible of my little situation that I've gotten myself into.

True, I was in and have been in a poor state and made poor decisions. Also true, I did not create a lying, scamming, wolf in sheep's clothing. I did not allow such a person into the congregation. I was vulnerable sheep, easy prey. Sometimes sheep are weak, dumb, and don't know how to protect themselves or find their way home. Who are supposed to protect the sheep? Who are supposed to render aid when the sheep gets itself lost or is under vicious attack by a predator? The shepherds. The shepherds can go all out like David in the Bible, fighting lions and bears to protect the sheep. Or they can stand to the side and shake their heads from side to side as they watch the sheep get abused, thinking there was nothing they could do to help.

To be fair though, the elders are not watching me get abused because my narc husband wouldn't destroy his own facade by abusing me aggressively and directly in front of them. If they pay attention, they would see smaller, nonaggressive things like how he never waits for our son and I so he can walk into the kingdom hall together. I'm always following him holding our son's hand (because I wait for our son and my son waits for me). He can't wait the 10 seconds so we can walk together, all three of us. They are not in a position to be watching all the time, exactly, but they are in a position to be listening. I've felt that they don't even want to listen to what I say to them about the abuse I've suffered. Why should they listen if the position is that they can't take sides, it's both of our fault equally?

I have not been good since the recommendation to work things out with my husband. He was pretending, of course. He had no interest in working out our marriage to better get along. My feelings mean nothing as always. Everything is about him having utmost control and unending servitude to him to satisfy his desires. We should think like him. I think he actually wants us to worship him. He is no real Christian.

So I've been going around in circles again with him for the past weeks. I had developed expectations of him foolishly again. Ended up very frustrated and depressed. My sleep had not been good. I reached out to the elders to pray for me. I reached out to a couple Nigerian brothers who are friends with my husband for years, since childhood. I asked them to pray for me as well.

When I made this request to one, he ended up telling me how my husband had promised to give him $200 to help him out. He said his wife had been sick for months (I believe they live in Ghana). They had been going from hospital to hospital to find out what is wrong with her. He himself had lost his job. He told me that my husband had promised to give him some money, but has since stopped answering his calls and messages.

I was stunned. I thought he only made promises to me, our son, and business acquaintances that he did not keep. I thought he was close to this particular friend the way he described how they met and how he had lived with this friend and his mother at a time when he had nowhere else to go. Unbelievable that he would ghost his friend in his time of need. My husband wasted more than $200 on the hotel we had booked to go on our weekend get-away but then canceled because he had to be at work for an employee's last day. There was no refund. Money down the drain that could have helped his friend.

Plus, this weekend, he went to Georgia by plane to attend a gathering of fellow worshippers (supposedly). I was told that I could not go, so I and our son stayed home. He left without telling me which family was having the gathering, where he would be staying the night, no address given, and no detailed info about when he would come back (I think he said Sunday).

The plane ticket cost $800 he told me. So, he couldn't keep his promise to an unemployed friend with a very sick wife to give them $200, but he gladly and eagerly spent $800 on one ticket for himself to attend a gathering that probably lasted a few hours. Disgusting to me. But now I see that I'm not the only one he treats like dirt. Why do they keep him as a friend? They are not married to him, neither do they have a child with him like I do. If I did not have a child with him, I would disappear from his life, like 'poof'. There is no question in my mind that he does not love me and would walk over my dead body singing happily,but would feign sadness in the view of others.

Something else I just discovered. I usually used turbotax to process our taxes. However, for 2023 I did not do them. He had just acquired his business in January 2024 and we had moved from Georgia to Texas. He said he had found someone who could do our taxes. We file jointly so I gave him my w2 for the part time job I had worked. Later, when I asked about the status of our tax return, he couldn't give me the name of the person he hired to do it. Said he had met the person at some restaurant he went to. He couldn't give me the person's business card. He couldn't give me a copy of the return. He told me we didn't owe anything and we didn't get anything back either. I didn't believe him and asked for a copy of the tax return. He said ok, he would get it. Of course, weeks have gone by and no tax return. I messaged him, asking him again while he was away this weekend to give me a copy of the tax return. The guy is in Chicago or Indiana according to some other people. So, that was his excuse. Ummm, with modern technology, people can be reached from long distances and pdf documents can be e-mailed. What difference does it make if he is out of town? He gave no indication of when he would be back. Still couldn't give me a personal name, a business name, or phone number for the guy. When I asked, more than once, he simply did not respond at all to those questions.

Then it occurred to me that I could get copies myself from the IRS. So, I did just that. Turns out, my husband was indeed lying to me. We had received a refund of over $7,000. I was unaware of it and didn't see any of it. I wasn't even aware of when the supposed guy had finished processing our taxes. And looking at the info from the tax return transcript, I see business expenses that I'm highly suspiscous of. I plan to look into this further. Im going to get an actual copy from the IRS hoping I can find out who this tax preparer is and if he followed legal protocol. Definitely, next time, I will not be filing jointly. He is a liar, cheater, scammer, my Nigerian Jehovah's Witness husband.

[misophorism]

Captain's Log #2

I haven't logged into this account in about a year. The good news is that I have people in my life (one person) that I feel I can share things with without being ignored, something I haven't truly had before. On the other hand, I don't think this is something I actually need to say to another person.

I'm reflecting on writing. For the past two to three years, the overwhelming theme in all of it is anger.

It began truly with The Suicide & The Scythe. Obviously, in that book, I'm furious at Neiditch, and my anger expands as the book progresses. In my last novel, the anger is much more personal. The book, ASF, is about my childhood broadly, as well as a few other of my interests creating a concatenation of gothic tragedy, romance, childhood abuse and trauma, lasting resentment, addiction, alcoholism, suicide, and post-traumatic stress disorder. You're right: one of these things is not like the others. But there is also quite a bit of legalese in the book, which I will not be explaning.

Anyway, the protagonist, Alice, is overwhelmingly angry. This is a part of myself I haven't tackled before. Rage factors into The Misophorism Trilogy, of course, but it manifests as a response toward suffering more than anything. In The Misophorism Trilogy, anger is presented toward others for not understanding the principal emotion: despair.

Here, rage is that principal emotion. Alice's anger is fiery, explosive: searing, burning, blinding. It makes her deaf to the voice of reason, it renders her cruel, vengeful, vindictive. We are privy to some incredibly ugly thoughts aimed at her childhood and her mother. In The Misophorism Trilogy, Death is a desideratum. In ASF, it's what the object of Alice's wrath, her mother, deserved long ago. Fantasies of violence: white knuckles, gritted teeth, clenched steering wheels.

Alice's anger has been brewing for almost twenty years, and it has manifested in distrust toward others, rabidly vicious attempts to set boundaries and keep her walls up, and the complete eradication of any close relationships. She has been wronged so often, for so long, that she cannot help but wish to wrong back: to snap at anyone who would dare tell her a wallowing story, demand her attention, guilt trip her. Nobody cared about her when she was suffering, so she cares about no one.

Obviously, all of this is deeply autobiographical.

I sincerely hope none of my readers are reading this right now because I just gave away the plot. But I do this because this reflects, I think, the main conflict of my life in the past four years, which is essentially the same as Alice's. I'm furious. I want to hurt. I want to attack, maim, beat, scream: I want to inflict so much harm on those who have hurt me for so long that it can tear me apart. I can almost never get closure; I am never apologized to, I am always blamed, always on the receiving end. And when I respond in kind, it's my fault that things escalated.

Obviously this is a simplistic and almost childish reflection of wrongs and rights, but this is often how it feels emotionally: a wild, frenetic, primal anger that has just barely been held in abeyance for years.

I started a new manuscript a few days ago, and if it goes in the direction I think it will, Alice's anger will look like practice. There is substantial unresolved hurt here. This is the only way I can deal with it. All Gaul was pacified.

I'm pretentious.

[rametarin]

The old piece of shit has found a new target of ire.

I've often stated that due to health problems and money problems, I'm stuck living with an abusive and antagonistic piece of shit. My mother. Her antagonism exacerbates my health problems, and her greed and entitlement exacerbates my money problems. And as a result of both, I can't escape. Which becomes a vicious cycle she deliberately keeps up to keep me from escaping, to keep being a worthless and abusive piece of shit.

I can't make money living under her roof without her spending her share + mine on bullshit, howling about how she "can't afford her bills" as justification to take my money from me, and that effectively leaves us both barely dangling. A phenomenon that miraculously ceases when I don't have any money for her to steal. So, to keep from pounding myself into the ground going into circles that do nothing but deteriorate what health I have, I don't work. If and when I can ever escape from her, I will. But while I live with this tyrannical piece of shit, I simply can't spare the health or mind to tolerate a job and the soul crushing results of someone else turning a minimum wage paycheck into piles of junk food, piles of shit, and making it rain on family members that don't deserve a dime, much less what could be a nest egg.

So, I live with her. And she's a petty disgusting tyrant.

How petty?

Well, so petty that she decided she didn't like the specific towel I favor. So she decided that unless I'm willing to pay ten dollars every time I use it, it doesn't go in the dryer. It's just a fucking towel. It has colors. It doesn't have any political messages, it doesn't have any coherent symbol or logo. It's just a striped bath and beach towel. Claims it's "too big to wash regularly" because "it's expensive." So this specific towel, the only one I like, doesn't get to go in the dryer.

And when she was really suffering from money problems due to answering when a scam assed fake electric company called offering her cheaper rates, the bird brain inside of her went, "BOK BOK BOK.. CHEAP POWER!?" and signed on. Then the electricity costs skyrocketed and she was locked in to the scam.

At that point she was running around unplugging every appliance when it wasn't in use and even hitting the big red outlet switch to turn off our furnace (which also served as our hot water heater) under the impression that she'd be preventing, "vampire power" from sapping electricity and running up her bills. Just, imagining any scenario she could to handwave control over the situation to limit how much this bird brained attempt at saving money now was hemhorraging cash instead. More than once she went on a tangent speaking to herself (which is what she does when she wants a one-sided conversation with me, or the younger brother) about how us not turning the lights off after we leave a room was the reason electricity cost $500 a month. The way a programmer speaks to a rubber duck, or a narcissist talks into a mirror to reaffirm things they want to be true.

Well, ever since my younger brother bought an electric leafblower, we've been using it as a handheld, light duty snow blower. And this has made my worthless bitch of a mother upset, because for some reason, she likes when we have to invest effort into things and suffer. That's not hyperbole, she despises the use of the leafblower for no other reason than because she believes it's a "cheat" to investing effort into labor.

So whenever it has snowed, she tries to narrate the situation and browbeat. "Oh nooo! It's snowed. Guess you'll have to get your coat on and go shovel. Do you want me to pour you a drink before you get your coat on and go shovel? I was thinking of going to town after you get your coat on and go shovel."

Yes, the bold and italic is such because she thinks she's being subtle or mindfucky. She genuinely believes that is how you "trick" people into doing what you want, how you want. By acting and performing what she wants is the only mechanical possibility. When I correct her and say it can easily be done with a leaf blower, she gets mad and insists that the snow is too heavy to be leaf blown.

95% of the time, she's wrong.

She despises how little effort it takes, for someone that isn't even her, to go clear a path of snow. And she's like this, rain or shine. A fat, disgusting, selfish bitch that believes if you aren't bleeding for her when she feels like you should be bleeding, then you're, "getting off easy." And thus, owe her some other sort of labor to compensate. Even if the labor is utterly pointless. It's like she has this weird robotic quota of control in her head she needs to convince herself she's employing over someone else every day, and if she doesn't get it, she becomes antagonistic and combative.

But that's not how women do combative. Women antagonize you and then scream and threaten to call the police if you confront them over it. So the only form of "fighting" is endurance, compliance, or non-compliance- which just becomes endurance, as those stupid cunts stand right there in the doorway while you're recovering from shoveling and feel the need to go "Keep shoveling!..... Keep shoveling!... What's the hold up?" Just to try and incentivize you to stop resting and keep working. If only to shut them the fuck up and convince them to leave you alone.

So rather than stand in the doorway and blow off the porch in under a minute, she gets mad and insists I suit up in winter gear and go entirely outside to do a one minute task. As punishment, I suppose, for not having to put in the effort of shoveling everything.

But oh, Ram, I hear you say; she has a point! Doesn't opening the door make the heat go out?

Why yes it does. That never stops this stupid cunt from opening the door and wanting to have meaningless shouted conversations just to grab your attention for minute at a time while you're shoveling. The time it takes me to blow off the deck and stairs from the doorway is less than the time she spends farting out her stupid fucking face to say and accomplish nothing from the door, or the window, while I'm trying to concentrate and focus on shoveling.

Stupid conversations while I'm busy and trying to do labor that accomplish absolutely nothing but giving her attention, while I'm trying to do something else. That, ultimately, is the point of wanting attention while somebody else is busy; to put yourself above whatever labor is occurring and demand they give you priority, if only 51%.

"SURE IS COLD OUT THERE, HUH!? LOOK AT ALL THE SNOOOOW! BLAHBLAHBLAH, CAN'T BELIEVE IT-, FEEL THIS-, DIDN'T THINK THAT-, MY STUPID SISTER SAYS."- I don't fucking care, leave me alone, this 'conversation' can take place INDOORS when I'm not trying to do manual labor. Leave me alone. Worthless, lazy bitch. You don't shovel, you don't even clean off the car. This isn't helpful, and you know it actively pisses me off.

This petty bitch refuses to get tools to reduce the amount of labor involved in solving petty chores, specifically because it's designed to make me exert more effort to do them. So when the younger brother buys these shortcuts and there's nothing she can do about the Golden Child's purchases, tries to handwave and mindwarp reasons why they don't apply to the situation. She got inordinately mad about the leafblower, because having a rake on hand was how she got hours of work out of me in the fall just raking leaves that didn't need to be raked.

After the leafblower, we could do hours of work in minutes. She felt less like a slavemaster, I suppose, so decided if it wasn't going to take us hours to rake leaves, we needed to do more labor on a tighter routine, more days out of the fall. To a point. It's blatant what she's doing, but she knows she can't maintain the justifiablity thing even to herself, after a while. It becomes blatantly obvious you're just trying to ride somebody's ass for the joy of riding somebody's ass when you have no reason to do it.

[msrenai21]

oh it’s been a long time since I needed to vent

for the first time since April, I feel suicidal again ;3; not enough to act but just thinking about it and it’s mainly my mom’s fault (again)

all 3 physical aspects of my life are major stressors right now. Work is stressful, home is stressful, and school is insanely stressful.

Work is stressful bc I’m a fucking moron and I’ll prolly mess up something soon or get yelled at

Home is stressful bc my mom is being horrible to me again. She still treats me like a burden and ugh she treats me as her “second wallet” and demands that I give her money whenever she needs it. If I say ‘no’ she’ll guilt trip me by saying “but I can’t support us both”. Okay, if you really needed extra money, stop buying alcohol and cigarettes multiple times a week. Cut down on buying expensive clothing and your $100 lotion. You don’t NEED that lotion for fuck’s sake you’re already old you’re not gonna look younger.

At one point (like a year ago??) she tried to steal my wallet once so now I have to go back to hiding it bc she might steal money from me. She’s always demanded that I forfeit my money to her as if she’s entitled to it. This has been going on since I was 8 years old, where I’d get like birthday money and she’d pull me to the side and bully me into giving it to her bc she needed it “more than some kid.”

I mistakenly told her that I could help her out with one of my paychecks in October, thinking she might not actually need it or she’d only need like $20. She told me yesterday that she expected me to give her $50+. I told her that after I deposit money into my savings for school ( you know the whole reason I got a job for???), I’d only have just under $100 for the next two weeks. She got so fucking mad at me and starting yelling “well how are you gonna survive off of that??? how are you going to buy gas once you give me the money??” like whoa ok chill i never agreed to $50+ so now I’m incredibly anxious and dreading october bc I’m gonna be broke and starving just so she can pay off some bs that she technically makes enough money for (if she would just stop buying shit that’ll kill her but whatever honestly)

on top of that, I have a hair appointment coming up in October that’s very pricey and my mom keeps pressuring me to stop dyeing my hair pink and go back to natural hair. Now I don’t know if I even want my hair appt anymore and if i should just listen to her. I don’t want to tho I don’t wanna go back to my natural hair bc I feel happier with the pink hair but I don’t know anymore;;;

and then school is another bullshit thing with a bullshit teacher who’s so fucking rude and unorganized I can’t even deal with her. On top of that, for 2 classes, I have to pay a total of $60 to do 4 assignments. Everything’s ridiculous

My depression has gotten so much worse in the past week that I don’t wanna even be here anymore. I feel sick to my stomach and fuck I’m just worried about money bc my mother genuinely believes that she’s entitled to the money that I make by working at my job. Ugh she had the audacity to ask how long it’s gonna take to save up for school when I told her that I can’t be helping her every time she needs money bc it’s my money I’m allowed to refuse. I told her it’s gonna take like 6-7 months bc hello??? I have to save up money for 3 semesters??? like are you fucking kidding me

and honestly she really doesn’t need help with bills it’s just that this bitch doesn’t know how to fucking save her money so she gets bills in on time, but she’s just big mad that I’m not helping her buy her alcohol and shit bc every time she cries and complains we dont have money, they somehow get *magically* paid for :///

and it’s funny how she begs me for help when she raised me to always be independent, to never ask people for money, to always assume worst case scenario, to assume that no one in the world cares for me and is never willing to help me when I need it, and yet, she doesn’t listen to her own advice. 

[see-arcane]

Defanging Dracula—The Noble-Romantic-Playboy VS The Horror Villain

Now that the ranting and raving on behalf of Lucy, Jonathan, and Mina’s character portrayals in media adaptations is out of the way, I think it’s only fair that Dracula has someone vouch for him too. Not because he deserves it as a person—being an entity powered exclusively by the Need to Be a Bloodsucking Bastard—but as a character who has always been, and deserves to be respected as, a genuinely insidious, terrifying, incredibly engaging monster of a villain.

To be clear, if this prick were to be updated on the state of all the myriad movies and spinoffs and offshoot tales centered on him, I have no doubt he would be delighted with what his fellow heroic cast members were relegated to. The man lives for other people’s misery. Up to a point, I think he’d love things like Francis Ford Coppola’s take, his Castlevania counterpart, even the Sexy von Suaveman version of himself in, The Invitation.

But he would only suffer it up to a point. Because hilarious as it must be to see his favorite victims watered down, pimped out, and/or erased outright? There’s no way he’d be able to stomach the unironically wistful charismatic prettyboy romance novel-cover treatment he gets subjected to.

Canon Dracula: “Wow, you’re really going all out on this ‘fake pining for the mortal chick’ stance. Amazing how you don’t break character.”

Assorted Noble-Romantic-Playboy Draculas: “Oh, it’s not an act. We legitimately are just on the hunt for the Right Lady to sate our sensual and yearning hearts. Also taking revenge when she dies. Or reincarnates. Or whatever. Anyway, all our acts are powered by sexy sexy desire and liberation and love :)”

Canon Dracula, has aged another 300 years upon hearing this: “…Is this what it’s like for the humans when they’re around me? Because I can feel every atom of my being trying to retreat and die in an effort not to suffer your presence.”

Really, I want you to sit and think about the last time you ever encountered a Dracula—or the goth heartthrob being sold as ‘Dracula’—that was horrifying. Not ‘ooh, he’s such a bad boy!’ not ‘oh he’s such a tragic villain!’ or ‘oh he’s so badass and cool!’ dark fantasy crap. I mean actually, legitimately frightening.

The kind of creep you would feel watching you at a party. And leaving the party. And going down the street. And in your room.

The kind of bogeyman you pray every night isn’t standing in a shadow—or is the shadow, trailing along after you, waiting for you to wear out. Because you will. He won’t. He’s got all night, friend.

The kind of walking, talking, smiling nightmare that embodies the worst (affectionate) of mastermind manipulative abusers and no-frills vicious monstrosity. Psychological torture for his ‘friends’ and idle slaughter for the cattle (sorry, tiny children, nameless mother, Demeter crew, Mr. Swales, the mastiff pup, the list goes on).

Dracula is meant to be intimidating. And sure, that can be alluring. But before that, and after that, the intimidation has to come from the fact that he is a next level sadist. Directors could never throw this guy into a romantic setting without defanging and sandblasting him down to a smoldering caricature.

If you had Canon Dracula in a story with an interested admirer going full-blown willing victim~ ;) <3 xoxo at him, all while their friend tried desperately to break through the haze of contemporary, ‘But humans are the REAL VILLAINS, monsters are just HOT INHUMAN OTHER-METAPHORS who want love..!’ lens to point out, hey, this guy has absolutely rancid serial killer vibes, we should go, do you know what would happen?

Dracula would, in evil cat fashion, either ignore or immediately kill his admirer and set his sights firmly on the person who wants absolutely nothing to do with him. Why? Because he’s fucking Dracula and he wants what’s most miserable and terrifying for everyone.

He’s meant to be gleefully evil. He’s meant to be The Classic Supernatural Gothic Villain © ™. None of this misunderstood monster shit. The characters understand him. He understands himself. And that understanding is that he loves being a torturous (not tortured :’c), unrepentant overpowered utter asshole of an immortal self-made demon.

The world is his playground and unlimited blood buffet. But fresh necks and undead babes aren’t even the half of it. We’ve seen how much fun he has playing mind games as much (or more than) the actual fruition of the fulfilled threat. This guy burned two whole months on toying with Jonathan. He’s just starting the slow burn game with Lucy. He’s all about savoring the flavor of a well-seasoned nightmare inflicted on new playmates/playthings.

And that is so goddang interesting in a monster! It’s rare! It’s unique! Here’s a guy who has nothing but time and power on his hands, and he uses that to amuse himself with picking out victims to turn into hobbies. Some get menaced and massacred. Some special cases get the full ‘courtship’ play as he drags them kicking and screaming into conversion against their will; which, if we’re looking at his pattern so far with Jonathan and Lucy, is absolutely his preference.

He. Is. A. Bastard!

And I love that for him! I love hating him, I love studying him like the malicious little bug he is, I love watching the victims and heroes put up a fight against him, I love all the tasty horror genre menace he’s been radiating for over a century!

But even he isn’t immune to being compressed and warped into a mockery of himself for adaptations’ sake. The vision of him as some Don Juan ravishing/wooing/pining for/avenging [INSERT DAMSEL HERE] has become practically the only version of him the general public is aware of. And that’s just as unfair as what’s been done to Mina, Jonathan, and Lucy.

tl;dr: Directors of all eras are seemingly allergic to treating the plot and cast of Dracula with any kind of respect in their takes, including the eponymous monster man himself. But as a token of goodwill, the Count has cordially invited all of them to a dinner at Castle Dracula to talk things over civilly. We’re sure they’ll be fine in the company of such a noble and trustworthy fellow.

[gxthicwxrm]

No One Like You- We Aren't Just Friends Part Two.

Pairing: Eddie Munson x fem reader

Warning: sibling death, abuse, cussing, angst, Vecna

Summary: Your boyfriend Eddie is unaware of your recent symptoms, you intended on keeping it that way. Vecna had other plans.

Word Count: 3875 words

MINORS DNI! This is an 18+ account. You'll be blocked! 

Please don't translate or copy my work! You do not have my permission to copy or translate my work. Feedback is always welcomed! Requests are open! Enjoy!

Tag List

*not my gif*

Note: please let me know if yall like this part or not! This is my second Eddie fic!

Part One: We Aren't Just Friends

--

This week has been the craziest of your life. Not only did you start an official relationship with your long term best friend and town outcast, Eddie Munson. But, You also found out about a parallel dimension that copied your hometown, Hawkins that's accompanied by a vicious monster hellbent on infecting our world. 

Not only has your life been disrupted as you knew it but your headaches have grown increasingly worse since they first began a few days ago. We’ve found out that they are connected to a demon named Vecna who preys on vulnerable teens, teens like your friend, Chrissy. Your heart pangs with guilt as flashes of her smiling, cheering, even at the picnic table as she shyly announces herself to Eddie and you. That was the last memory you have of her before she and Eddie headed to his trailer for more drugs and to her death. 

You look over at Eddie who sits adjacent to you at the Wheeler’s. Sadness takes a tighter hold on your heart as you think of him alone having to witness Chrissy’s final moments and the scar that those memories will have on him forever. Suddenly, a sharp pain washes over your head from your neck. Pressure builds as if someone is pressing down on your head, squishing it. You shut your eyes tightly as your ears begin to ring with a loud chime of a grandfather clock.

The noise is so loud and real that your eyes fly open despite the searing pain attacking your head. Everything is…wrong. There's no better word to describe what was before you than wrong. You were still at the Wheeler’s but you were alone and it was dark. Vine-like tendrils wrap around the world like it’s being held, hostage. You recognize it to be the Upside Down. Within a blink of an eye, your father stands before you.

Chills snake up your spine. Fear freezes you as if someone dunked you into an ice bath. Your relationship with your father was complicated, to say the least. He was a cruel man, a drunk man. You and your mother suffered at his hands for years before he almost killed you both. Your father bares his teeth at you as he spits at your feet.

“You’re nothing but a whore like your mother. That slutty uniform and your stupid little boy toy. Do you think that freak is going to save you? He’s gonna be your death sentence, you little ungrateful bitch.” His words carve a hole into your chest as you try to push the memories away. You refuse to let Vecna torture you. Flashes of Eddie pass as you close your eyes. Your father's presents disappear as the world suddenly feels lighter.

“Y/N? Are you okay? You spaced out a little there, babe.” Eddie’s concerned voice floods your ears as you open your eyes. He was only a foot away, bent down in front of your position on the couch. You smile up at him.

“I’m sorry. I’m just processing everything. It’s still so unbelievable to me.” You lie. Guilt wrecks you as you hide the telltale signs of Vecna’s curse. You can’t put more anguish onto the boy in front of you than has already been dealt with him. With a nod, he leans down to kiss your forehead. His lips linger before he pulls away. 

“I know. I’m still processing it myself. I’m here for you, okay? Just know that you can always come to talk to me.” His voice is earnest and firm. He analyzes your face to which you give him a small smile, accompanied by a chuckle.

“I know you are. I’m okay.” You shrug him off. Trying to change the subject you look around, despite your fear of seeing the other world, for a distraction. Unable to find one, you look back to Eddie who is still squatting in front of you with nothing but worry about his beautiful features. 

“Y/N, I’m serious. I will always be here for you. A shoulder to cry on or a hug when you need one. Whether we are platonically, sexually, or romantically involved, I’ll always have time for you and what worries you.” He opens his heart to you. A need to get away from any subject that might lead you to talk about your symptoms multiplies.

“In that exact order.” you deadpan. Eddie furrows his brows with confusion. 

“What?” He questions. 

“We have been involved in that exact order.” You answer, smiling lazily. “We’ve been involved platonically, then sexually. Then finally, romantically.” Understanding takes over Eddie’s features as he realizes. As if a light bulb popped over his head, Eddie straightened up with a finger hovering in the air.

“Actually, whether you won't admit it or not, we were romantically involved way before we were sexual, milady. We were a couple before we knew we wanted to be.” Eddie’s admission warms your heart as he smiles happily at the memories that no doubt are flashing through his head as they are flashing through yours. All of those late-night talks about his campaigns and your current book obsession, your smoking sessions that always ended with you two spending the night, you lay with his head in your lap, reading to him or your head resting on his chest as music hums in the background, him trying to teach you to play guitar, and the countless kisses that followed the first and the childish giggles that erupted from you both every time you realized that kissing was something you two could do. Butterflies erupt from your stomach as you reach out for his ring-claded hand, holding it in your own

“That is very true, my good sir.” You say back, voice filled with reassurance. You fiddle with his rings before interlocking your fingers. Lovingly, you kiss his knuckles while looking up at him. His other hand reaches for you, to touch your cheek. But, all you can see is your father’s fist coming towards your face and you flinch. Eddie’s expression twists into one of immense worry. Before he could address what had just happened, Steve enters the room.

“Max wants to drop some letters off to some people, do you guys want to come?” Steve asks, his head popping around the doorway. Quickly, I get up from my position on the couch and walk towards the doorway, dropping Eddie’s hand in the process.

“Yeah, I wanna make sure she’s alright.” Since her stepfather left the picture, Max has been staying across from Eddie. You nod and go to follow Steve. Eddie reaches, grabbing your wrist as Steve goes back to the car. Instead of saying anything, he tilts his head. As if to ask,’ What just happened?”. You shake your head, not wanting to talk about it, and kiss his cheek to try to reassure him. You turn and head towards Steve and the kids. Max’s headphones rest over her ears as she looks at the distance. A wave of guilt cloaks over you as you long to let the younger girl know she isn’t alone. She won’t die alone. But you can’t. Not without breaking Eddie’s heart.

Knowing what it’s like having a deadbeat dad, you connected with Max. You looked to her as a younger sister, like the one you never got to be with. When you were twelve and your sister was sixteen, a terrible accident happened. Your father was drunk off his ass, like usual, and was driving you two girls to your mother’s for the weekend. They had a terrible conversation on the phone prior to the drive over, so your father was already livid. Swerving all over the place, other cars honked viciously at us as he went down the two-lane road. Suddenly, a deer jumps out from the woods. Your father swerves hard to miss it. The car spins out of control as you barrel towards a massive tree. The car twists as you grab onto your sister before her side smashes into the large oak. 

That was the last memory you had of the accident before waking up in the sterile hospital. Not even Eddie knew the story of how your sister passed. Everyone knew that it was a car accident, but that was it. You blamed your father and rebelled against your parents. Quickly, your mother took full custody of you and you never saw the man again. Not until Vecna picks you to prey upon. With a shake of your head, you keep walking to the kids. Swiftly, Max takes her headphones before reaching into her bag.  Before you can say anything, Max reaches out an arm, and a letter extends to you.

“Thank you. But we won’t need these. You are going to be okay.” Those words were the final ones you spoke to your sister, they won’t be your final to Max. She shrugs you off. With a smirk, you reach out and pull the young girl into a hug. At first, she retreats before her arms wrap around you. She holds onto you tightly. You let her hug you, knowing you both desperately needed it right now. 

“Hey, I’m sorry to interrupt. Everyone is ready,” Lucas comes up from behind Max. You both let go of each other as Max turns to face Lucas. 

“I’m coming,” Max says before throwing on her headphones and following Lucas to Steve’s car. Eddie stands with Steve beside the car as they let the kids get settled in the backseat. You start to make your way over when a thought strikes you. Patting your sides for your bag, you realize you left it in the house. Eddie notices your frantic pat down and starts to make his way over to you after wrapping up his conversation with Steve.

“You ready, princess?” He rests his hand on your shoulder before sliding down your arm to hold your hand. You shake your head.

“No, I forgot my bag in the house.” You look back at the house. Understanding takes over Eddie’s confused look. 

“Do you want me to go get it?” He moves to walk towards the house, but your hand reaches out to stop him. Your hand rests against his chest.

“No, baby. I got it. Just don’t let them leave without me.” You joke. A beautiful laugh leaves Eddie’s lips as he goes to explain to Steve what’s happening. You turn towards the house and head to the basement where you were last. You glance around the room, looking at the couch you sat on at last. Suddenly, a coldness creeps along your spine as you spin around to see this is no longer the Wheeler’s home. This is the house your family fell apart in. Slowly, you move from the hallway and make your way into the next room. The room was your old living room. Your father sits on the couch watching television. A beer in his hand and three empty ones sitting on the coffee table in front of him. The TV is on but mute. That was his way of listening in on you guys so he could hear us if any of us talked back under our breath. 

To your surprise, you accidentally knocked into a vase that rested off to the side. The metal clangs loudly against the hardwood flooring. With a gasp, your hand flies to your mouth, covering as you could swallow back the sound you caused. With a snap of his neck, your father’s dead shark-like eyes watch you. You back up, knowing he will strike you if you don’t calculate this correctly. With a blink of your eyes, Your father is in front of you, hand around your throat. Pain pulses from your neck where he crushes your windpipe. His nails bite into your skin as you begin to lift up. His inhuman strength holds you, feet unable to feel the ground. You thrash around to flee, which causes his grip to tighten.

“It should’ve been you. It is all your fault.” His voice is eerily calm as his face gets closer to yours. Tears fall down your cheeks as you scratch at his hands in a desperate attempt to move his hand. Your legs flail, trying to kick him, but it seems impossible.

“You killed your sister. She’d be alive if it wasn’t for you, you piece of garbage. I should kill you right now. I could. We both know that. You are nothing. I’m glad she’s dead, so she doesn’t have to see what a terrible disappointment you are.” He throws you down on the ground, raising his fist. You flinch, shutting your eyes before you hear loud honking. You look up and see you are no longer in the house. You now are standing on the road where the wreck happened. Suddenly, headlights are heading straight for you before cutting to the side, smacking into the tree line. Multiple screams erupt from the car. Your feet pound into the ground as you make your way over. The vehicle is pinned against a large oak tree. Desperately, you reach for your sister. You see her lying unconscious in the backseat of the car, but you can't open the car. The door refuses to budge as you put your entire body into pulling it. With a loud ‘fuck’, you kick the car door before punching the window. You crawl in, carefully picking her up before leaving the car. 

Blood pouring from her head, you lay her on the ground. Before you could've checked her pulse or done CPR, her eyes flies open. Her hand locks with a death grip on my wrist as she pulls herself up in a flash. Her skin is now washed out, dead. Her eyes clouded over. Decay covers her skin.

“You should’ve been the one. I should be alive with friends and boyfriends. You don’t deserve it. Any of it.” She screams in my face as tears stream down her face. Sobs wrack through your body as you desperately try to pull your arm from her supernatural grasp. 

“You don’t deserve them. Eddie would be happier without you. Lying to him when you know that you are going to die, just like Chrissy! I. Should’ve. Been. You. I had so much life to live! You should’ve died.” Her words strike you like an ax chopping wood. Hard, fast, and unyielding. Her other hand grabs your throat like your father did moments before. She raises your body while standing to her feet. “You will die this time. We will end your suffering.” Her voice distorts into a deeper, meaner voice. It’s not your sister in front of you anymore. Vecna standing before you, arms reaching for you. Fear subsides as you realize your time has come. You can’t fight this monster, no matter what form it may take. Your thoughts drift to Eddie as your eyes start to flutter shut, accepting your fate.

Music blasts into your ears as your eyes shoot back open. Vecna is still in front of you, but you two aren’t alone. Behind the decayed monster, a whole opens up showing you floating in Nancy’s basement with Eddie screaming for you to come down. Max’s headphones resting on your head. 

“Girl, it's been a long time that we've been apart

Much too long for a man who needs love

I miss you since I've been away

Babe, it wasn’t easy to leave you alone

It’s getting harder each time that I go

If I had the choice, I would stay” 

“No One Like You” By Scorpions breaks you away from Vecna’s torture as your foot curls up, kicking him in the chest over and over again. His grip loosens as you kick a final time. You drop to the ground. Eddie’s cries lace in with the music, crushing your heart as you start to run to him. 

“There's no one like you

I can't wait for the nights with you

I imagine the things we'll do

I just want to be loved by you”

Memories of Eddie humming your favorite song into your hair as your head rests on his chest, a finger tapping the beat on your bare thigh. You push yourself further as you close in on the gate where Steve and Eddie are both trying to pull you down. Max and the kids are begging you to come back

“Girl, there are really no words strong enough

To describe all my longing for love

I don't want my feelings restrained

Oh babe, I just need you like never before

I just imagine you'd come through this door

You'd take all my sorrow away”

Flashes of Eddie keep you going. Eddie tickling you because you wouldn’t give him something. Eddie teaching you how to roll a joint and messing up massively. Smoking with him. Your first kiss and every kiss since then. 

Suddenly, You’re back in your body, falling to the ground. With a blood-curdling scream, you crash into two sets of arms, music still blaring in your ears. Speechless, You reach out to grab anyone that you can. One hand grips onto Eddie’s denim vest, who you were leaning against, while the other has held onto Steve’s arm. Gasps leave your body as you look around frantically. Dustin, Lucas, and Max drop right in front of you, pulling you into their arms. One side of Max’s headphones slides down as you lean your head on Eddie’s shoulder, trying to catch your breath. 

“I thought you were going to die. I thought it was happening all over again. Why didn’t you tell me?” Eddie mumbles more to himself than you, tears streaking down his handsome features. 

“I’m here. I’m still here.” Noticing your headphones slipped, Eddie quickly puts them back, muttering something you couldn’t catch as the music floods your ears. After you settle your breathing and then calm down, you see Steve and Eddie talking. Both sets of eyes move to you every thirty seconds or so. Steve nods his head at Eddie before they each turn and look back at you. Then, Steve grabs the kids' attention who was sitting beside you, Max hugging your side. Lucas is the first to get up, not before hugging you. Dustin follows him, walking behind Steve upstairs. Lucas waits at the bottom of the stairs, waiting for Max, who is still hugging you. With a tight squeeze, she pulls away. Looking into your terrified eyes, she reaches for the headphones causing Eddie to say something to stop her. With an understanding nod at Eddie, she gives you a sad smile before going with Lucas upstairs. 

Now alone, Eddie paces back and forth in front of me. I know that he has questions. Ready to address them, I pull off the headphones. The music hums from the headphones still, faintly. 

“I’m sorry.” You croak, voice sore from Vecna. Eddie stops. Looking up from the ground, he stares at the wall for a minute before turning to you. His face is red and wet, eyes bloodshot and overflowing. He doesn’t attempt to stop them as they drip down onto his Hellfire Club shirt.

“You’re sorry?” His voice is just above a whisper. Disbelief floods him. “That’s all you have to say?”  Memories of Chrissy’s body on the ceiling stain his thoughts as he looks up at the roof of the Wheeler’s basement. He lazily points at the spot right above where you were floating.

“You were going to die. Right. There. That exact spot. I was going to watch you die. Do you know what I felt when I came down those fucking steps-” He points to the stairs leading into the basement. “ those steps right there? When I saw your fucking eyes hazed over?” You open your mouth to speak, but he cuts you off.

“Wanna know the worst part?” He asks, anger lacing his voice. You shake your head, tears falling from your eyes as you hear his pleas for you to come back to him. “I knew exactly what was happening to you. And I fucking knew I couldn’t stop it, just like I couldn’t stop it last time.” He was livid but relieved. Relieved that he had you and that you weren’t like Chrissy. At the thought of the cheerleader, anger boils in his chest.

“I didn’t want to worry you. I wanted handle it my-” 

“I don’t want to fucking hear the words you are about to say. I can’t handle the thought of you accepting that!” His finger juts towards the ceiling again. “You were going to die, Y/N. Fucking die! Do you understand that? I did the moment I came down those steps. You were already fucking floating, Y/N. I thought I was too late. I thought I was about to watch your body crumble and your fucking eyes get sucked out.” With the mention of how you would’ve looked on the ceiling, both of you break down. Eddie crumbles to the ground, hands covering his face as he cries. Sobbing, you crawl over to him. Gently you wrap your arm around him, to which he opens his, pulling you in greedily. 

“I am so sorry, Eddie. I was scared and didn’t know what to do. I am so sorry I hurt you.” You cry into his chest. 

“You can always come to me. I told you that! I will always be here for you. You didn’t hurt me. You scared the fuck out of me.  I’ve never felt fear like that in my life. I just got you, Y/N. We haven’t even been together a month, Y/N. I thought you were about to leave me, right in front of me, and I couldn’t do anything. I just got you.” He mutters the last part more to himself as his head is buried in your neck. “Please talk to me next time. Tell me this shit. I can’t lose you, not now, not ever. Please.” His voice is hoarse and broken as he lifts his head to look at you. A bruise is forming around your neck, causing another tear to fall down his face.

“I will. I won’t keep this from you again. I am so sorry, Eddie. I love you. I can’t lose you either. You’re what brought me back. I could…” Your voice trails off as your find strength inside you. “I could hear you. I heard you all screaming for me, so I ran as fast as I could go.” Your hand cups his cheek as he leans his forehead against yours.

“I love you. Just know that. I love you more than anything, and we will beat this fuck. I won't let Vecna take you from me. I promise. ” He replies. With a smile, you close your eyes and lean against him as his hands hold yours. Fear still keeps you on edge, but with Eddie by your side, you feel better than before. You can’t begin to process how you’ll defeat this creature, but until then, you'll work on building trust back up with Eddie, knowing he’ll be vigilant now. None of that matters as you just allow yourself to feel his warmth as he wraps his arms around you, holding you tightly, never letting you go.

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