#i have done nothing wrong in my life to deserve this

[zyafics-recs]

reblogging comment review from @zyafics

guess who has to be studying for another exam but instead she needs to catch up on this fic? (this girl) little annotations below ⬇️

Or the next. You couldn’t. Every time you picked up one of the stupid boxes, your heart would drop to the pits of hell and your hands would start sweating. You’d shove it back in the drawer like it could disappear if you just ignored it hard enough.

manifest it girlypop

What if it was positive? Then what? The thought of seeing his name pop up on your phone after you blocked him, or worse, hearing her voice if she picked up...you’d rather die. He didn't deserve to know.

i eat up any scenes where she wants nothing to do with him and he barges into her life and finds out all the things he's been missing out? the angst of not being able to go backward in time no matter how much you regret it

You heard that voice in your head, the one that sounded like your mom, at least what you remembered from watching old videos.

i would burst out in tears

Your younger cousin, Topper the bitching backstabber, had been born and raised in Los Angeles before he moved to Figure 8 when he was five. 

i was like why r we bringing up topper's bitch ass here and then i realized it to put in a frame of reference that she couldn't possibly know topper's birth bc he moved to kildare later. i just thought reader needed to put in a quick jab about topper 😭

You weren’t exactly the picture of health. What if you weren’t strong enough? What if something went wrong, and you ended up in a hospital bed, alone, because Rafe sure as fuck wouldn’t be there. It was just you.

i love the spiral of madness. i'm reading (and analyzing) it and i'm so so amazed by how ur structure descends. it flows so smoothly - from one topic to the next - all at a great pace and with a lot of internal turmoil. it builds up to me feeling everything reader feels.

It hit you just how ironic this was. You were sitting here, freaking out about being possibly pregnant, scrolling through nightmare stories about abortion and pregnancy complications, while Lily was talking about a fundraiser for children’s health. Kids. It felt like some twisted repulsive joke the universe was playing on you.

ugh, i love the parallels between her being (potentially) pregnant and the idea that she has to wrap her life around this foundation for children.

The fucking nerve. To your gala. Your blood boiled instantly, your fingers gripping the phone so tight you almost cracked the screen.

i love her i feel like she inches closer to insanity every day and i, too, feel the same

If Rafe wanted to play games, you’d ruin his life if you had to. He thought he could fuck you over, leave you with all this—leave you with nothing? No. You weren’t going to let him have that power.

like i said

You were shaking now, but it almost felt good. Even if it was just a stupid guest list. Let him find out when he got there and there was no table for him. No seat. No fucking room. 

BABES 😭 YOU'RE CARRYING HIS CHILD oh this is too good, the idea that she wants to erase him from her life and leave no space for him (mind), but her body is accommodating spacefor his child, making her reserve a permanent space for him in her life

Every year. He’d sit with you while you struggled through every word, telling you it was okay to take your time, reminding you that you didn’t have to do it if you didn’t want to. And when the gala came, he was always by your side, standing just off stage, waiting for you after the speech was done. You’d run into his arms, and he’d whisper that you 'did great baby', holding you until the room stopped spinning so much.

i fear i would crash out if i am currently stressed with the idea of being pregnant and remembering my ex bf and remembering my lost parents

If he thought you were weak, if he thought he could break you, if he thought you were the same girl who used to cling to him like he was the only thing keeping you together—he was wrong.You were going to do this without him.

my boss baby!!!

There was a sigh on the other end, the sound of him trying to not to lose his patentience, like he was the one in the right here. Typical Topper. Always wanting to smooth things over, play peacemaker between you and Rafe, like this was just another fight you’d get over.

topper, in the words of reader, a bitching BACKSTABBER

“Maybe what? That he could swoop in and save the day?” You let out a bitter laugh. “He’s not your golden boy, Top. He doesn’t fix anything. He ruins things.”

ugh i love ur dialogues sosososo much

You were having a meltdown, and he’d stepped in, like he always did when you went off the rails. That was the problem with him—he cared, even when you didn’t want him to. He was family, the only family you had left, and he was too loyal for his own good.

so fuck his parents then ig

You sat down, staring at the stick in your hand. This was insane. You were insane. Who the fuck took a pregnancy test ten minutes before they’re supposed to host a charity gala? 

apparently me

There it was.

+

💌 — aaaaaaaaaa, i'm so glad i waited until after my exam to read this and truly experience the gift of ur writing. i love the juxtaposition and parallels in this scene! especially with her deleting rafe from the gala's list, erasing space from him in her life, but having his child grow inside of her. i love love how she has to have a gala for children—and crippling over the current dilemma of whether she has a child herself. and i love that she's very isolated in a sense, because it amplifies how this child can truly make or break her. topper was so enjoyable—especially their conversation. u always write dialogues so smoothly!! honestly, i thought this scene would end with rafe showing up unannounced at the gala, haha but ig we'll see in next chapter

LOVED YOU AT YOUR WORST - r.c series - TWO

pairings: ex!sweethearts; rafe x thornton!reader; rafe x sofia. chapter warnings: mentions of possible pregnancy, of abortion, of pregnancy risks & death. self-loathing. chapter one

You lied.

You didn’t take the tests the next day.

Or the next. You couldn’t. Every time you picked up one of the stupid boxes, your heart would drop to the pits of hell and your hands would start sweating. You’d shove it back in the drawer like it could disappear if you just ignored it hard enough.

Once you knew, you knew. 

There was no more pretending as if nothing happened.

No more pretending like you didn't care that Rafe moved on like he didn’t just dump you, with no real closure and ran to the next girl he found. 

Fuck, why did he have to look so happy that night? He got to be carefree, living his perfect little life with her, and you were there, sitting on the bathroom floor, too scared to even pee on a stick.

What if it was positive? Then what? The thought of seeing his name pop up on your phone after you blocked him, or worse, hearing her voice if she picked up...you’d rather die. He didn't deserve to know.

He didn't deserve anything from you anymore.

You started googling abortion clinics before you even touched the tests. You could afford it. That wasn’t even the issue.

You had more money than you knew what to do with. Your inheritance was just sitting there. You could book a flight tomorrow, pay for whatever procedure, whatever it took—fly out of state, out of the country, if you had to. 

But that wasn’t the point. It has never been about the money. It was the overwhelming shame. The fear. The realization that Rafe might have left you, but he was still there, stuck in your head, in your body, in your fucking life. Even when he wasn’t.  

He didn’t have to worry about any of this. He was most likely out on the boat, not even thinking about you. Not thinking about what he did to you. 

And you— you were left with this. Sitting on a bathroom floor for hours a day, trying to figure out how you were supposed to make a decision that changed everything.

You started looking up clinics again, scrolling through the options, but your mind was barely even there. It was legal in North Carolina for now, but you read something about the 12-week ban they passed in June, and suddenly you were spiraling one more time, wondering how much time you even had. 

Could you wait? Could you put it off like you’d been putting off the tests, like if you waited long enough, maybe the problem would just... disappear? Shit, wouldn’t that be easier?

You heard that voice in your head, the one that sounded like your mom, at least what you remembered from watching old videos.

It was depressing how life didn’t let you hold tightly to your memories sometimes. She always reminded you of the kind of person you were supposed to be. The type of girl who had her shit together. The type of girl who didn’t get herself into situations like this, in the first place.

But instead, you were the girl who lost everything—the life you were supposed to have—and somehow, you’d still found a way to screw up what was left.

You kept scrolling like you couldn’t stop.

One page led to another, and soon you weren’t just looking up clinics—you were looking up everything. 

What happened during the procedure, how long it took, the side effects, the complications. You read horror stories about infections, about women who thought it was over and then bled for weeks, about people who changed their minds too late.

You even looked up what could happen if you didn’t get an abortion—what pregnancy could do to your body. And that was a whole other rabbit hole you didn’t need to go down. Your body changing, your hormones going insane. You thought about your boobs getting sore, your stomach stretching, the possibility of throwing up every morning, and it felt like your body was already betraying you. And then you read the serious stuff—gestational diabetes, preeclampsia, all these words you didn’t even know existed before that night. There was a minefield of things that could go wrong, things that would go wrong.

Complications. Risks. Dangers.

You read about women who almost died in labor. About miscarriages and stillbirths and the trauma of carrying a baby for months, only to lose it. You never even thought about that, how pregnancy wasn’t just this smooth, magical process people make it out to be. It was brutal. But you’d been the little sister, you never saw your mother go through it, or anyone for that matter.

Your younger cousin, Topper the bitching backstabber, had been born and raised in Los Angeles before he moved to Figure 8 when he was five. 

You were terrified—not just of being pregnant, but of what it meant to stay pregnant. Would your body even handle it? You’d always lived off coffee and takeout half the time. An unreasonable amout of parties. Too many drinks some nights.

You weren’t exactly the picture of health. What if you weren’t strong enough? What if something went wrong, and you ended up in a hospital bed, alone, because Rafe sure as fuck wouldn’t be there. It was just you.

For a second there, you thought you might pass out.

You’d thrown your phone across the room, it hit the wall with a thud, but it didn’t help. The anxiety was still there, vibrating under your skin, making you want to scream. You glanced at the bathroom drawer again, where the pregnancy tests were hidden like some cursed thing.

Maybe you should’ve just taken one.

Rip off the bandaid.

The stupid phone rang, like was having fun pissing you off, vibrating on the floor where you’d thrown it. You stared at it for a second, debating if you should even pick it up. You didn’t feel like dealing with anyone, especially not whoever was about to ask something from you.

But it kept ringing, and of course, it was a number you recognized—Lily, one of the coordinators from your dad’s foundation. Shit. You forgot about the gala. Again. The one that was happening in two freaking days, the one you haven’t even thought about preparing for.

You swiped to answer, “Yeah?”

“Hey, I didn’t want to bother you, but we need to go over the final details for the gala,” She greeted you, sounding way too perky for how you were feeling. “I really need your input on the seating arrangements, and the auction items, and—”

It hit you just how ironic this was. You were sitting here, freaking out about being possibly pregnant, scrolling through nightmare stories about abortion and pregnancy complications, while Lily was talking about a fundraiser for children’s health. Kids. It felt like some twisted repulsive joke the universe was playing on you.

You blinked back into the conversation, realizing she still talking, and you hadn’t said a word. “Uh, yeah, sorry. I’ve been busy. Can you just handle it?” you muttered, feeling guilty but not enough to actually deal with any of it.

“I’ve already taken care of most things,” she said carefully, “but we really need your approval on the final guest list and the speech. You’re the face of the foundation, after all.”

The face of the foundation. The legacy your dad left you. It was supposed to be this huge responsibility. And it was. You’d always taken it seriously. The one thing in your life you never ruined. But this year, you hadn’t written the speech yet. Jesus, you forgot it was even happening. And the guest list? No clue.

You rubbed your forehead, “I’ll look at it later. Just send it over.”

Lily hesitated again, probably sensing that something was off, you'd always been a control freak. “Okay, I’ll email it to you. Just let me know by tomorrow, alright?”

“Yeah, sure.”

You hung up before she could add anything else, staring at the ceiling. One more thing. One more responsibility piled on top of everything else. You were drowning in all these expectations—being the good daughter to dead parents, the responsible one, the perfect kook girl who was supposed to have everything. You were supposed to be the girl who had the trust fund, the perfect life, the foundation that helped kids in need.

You earned to be her.

Your phone buzzed again, this time with an email notification. You rolled your eyes, already knowing it was from Lily. She’d sent over the guest list, and you groaned, thinking you’d skim it, give it a half-assed glance, and send it back. But as you scrolled down the names, you stopped.

Rafe Cameron.

Of course, he was going to be there. Why wouldn’t he? His family had been involved in your dad’s foundation for years. It was like you couldn’t escape him.

The fucking nerve. To your gala. Your blood boiled instantly, your fingers gripping the phone so tight you almost cracked the screen.

Fuck him. 

If he thought he could just show up and rub his new life in your face, he had another thing coming. Without thinking twice, you deleted his name, erasing him like he didn’t even exist. And then, without checking another name, you sent the list back to Lily.

You didn’t give a shit if it was petty. You didn’t care if it wasn’t professional.

If Rafe wanted to play games, you’d ruin his life if you had to. He thought he could fuck you over, leave you with all this—leave you with nothing? No. You weren’t going to let him have that power.

Not over this. Not over you.

You were shaking now, but it almost felt good. Even if it was just a stupid guest list. Let him find out when he got there and there was no table for him. No seat. No fucking room. 

You still sat there staring at the screen with that stupid blinking cursor. The email from Lily sat open in front of you, and somewhere buried in the list of attachments was the speech. Blank.

Your speech—the one you were supposed to read at the gala in two days. The one you hadn’t even started writing.

This was always the hardest part. Writing it. Saying it. You used to cry every time. Standing in front of all those people, talking about your dad, your family, how the foundation was this beautiful way of keeping their memory alive. It was never just a speech—it was like ripping your heart out of your chest and letting everyone see it, year after year. It never got easier.

But Rafe, used to be there with you.

Every year. He’d sit with you while you struggled through every word, telling you it was okay to take your time, reminding you that you didn’t have to do it if you didn’t want to. And when the gala came, he was always by your side, standing just off stage, waiting for you after the speech was done. You’d run into his arms, and he’d whisper that you 'did great baby', holding you until the room stopped spinning so much.

You could still hear his voice in your head sometimes, 'you’re stronger than you think'.

That’s what he always said, even when you didn’t believe it. He’d hold you, kiss your forehead, and make you feel like it was true, like you really could get through it. He was always so sure of you. But this year? He wasn’t going to be there. He’d stop believing the lies he fed you. You were angry. You were seething. You were utterly alone.

You’d been avoiding this moment—writing.

This time around, it wasn’t just about the speech. It was about the fact that when you walked out of that stage, you wouldn’t have him waiting for you.

You’d step down into nothingness, with no one to catch you.

Your fingers hovered over the screen, but they wouldn’t move. What were you even supposed to say this year? How were you supposed to stand up in front of all those people and talk about love and family and legacy when yours was shattered?

You hated looking at yourself in the mirror, feeling like you’d lost every single piece of who you used to be.

Fuck the speech. Fuck the gala. Fuck Rafe Cameron and his stupid lies, his stupid smile, his stupid promises that he never kept.  

If he thought you were weak, if he thought he could break you, if he thought you were the same girl who used to cling to him like he was the only thing keeping you together—he was wrong.

You were going to do this without him.

You were going to stand up there and give that speech, no matter how much it hurt. And if it killed you, so be it. You’d still do it.

Because unlike him, you didn’t just walk away from the things that mattered. Even if it tore you apart. Even if it was killing you to keep pretending like you were fine. You weren’t fine. But you’d fake it. You’d fake it until the whole world believed it. 

You’d barely hit send on the email when your phone rang again, and this time it wasn’t Lily.

It was Topper. You hadn’t talked to him since that night—the night. The party where you’d found out, where you’d seen Rafe and Sofia together for the first time. Where you realized that everyone knew.

How he’d called Rafe over, like you needed him to fix it, like he was still yours to rely on.

“What?”

“Hey…” Topper’s voice was cautious, “I, uh, I wanted to call and apologize for the other night.”

You snorted, leaning your head back against the wall. “Yeah? For what part? For calling Rafe like his little bitch or for getting in front of my car when I was trying to leave?”

“I didn’t mean to fuck things up. I was just trying to stop you from doing something stupid.”

“Like what?” you snapped. “Leaving the party? Getting out of there before I had to watch him with her for one more second? Yeah, Top, real dumb of me.”

“You almost ran me over,” Topper shot back, his voice rising just a little, like he was offended you hadn’t mentioned that part. “Kinda felt like maybe you weren’t thinking straight.”

“You jumped in front of the car you fucking idiot. What the hell did you expect me to do? Slam on the brakes and listen to whatever bullshit you and Rafe had to say? Because trust me, ’m all out of patience for either of you.”

There was a sigh on the other end, the sound of him trying to not to lose his patentience, like he was the one in the right here. Typical Topper. Always wanting to smooth things over, play peacemaker between you and Rafe, like this was just another fight you’d get over.

He never really got it.

“Look,” Your cousin started, calmer this time, “I didn’t mean to call him. I just thought—”

“You always think calling him will fix things,” you cut in, “Like he’s the answer to every problem I have. He’s not. Not anymore.”

“I get that,” He added quickly, like he was afraid you’d hang up. “But I didn’t know what else to do! You were upset, and I thought maybe—”

“Maybe what? That he could swoop in and save the day?” You let out a bitter laugh. “He’s not your golden boy, Top. He doesn’t fix anything. He ruins things.”

Topper went quiet for a second, probably trying to figure out how to respond without setting you off on an angry rant again. “I get it,” he said finally, “You’re pissed at him. You have every right to be. But I didn’t call him to hurt you, okay? I was worried about you.”

You hated how genuine he sounded, hated that he meant well. He was a nuisance half of the time, sure, but he wasn’t malicious. He never was. He just had terrible judgment. 

“Next time, don’t,” you muttered, rubbing a hand over your face. “I don’t need you playing little brother and calling him when things go wrong."

“I wasn’t trying to clean anything up,” Topper explained, a little defensive now. “I just didn’t want you driving like that. You were upset.”

You rolled your eyes. “Upset doesn’t mean I need you or Rafe deciding what’s best for me. I’m not a kid.”

“You’re not,” he agreed, “But you weren’t exactly in a great headspace, so yeah, I stopped you. I wasn’t gonna let you leave like that and end up in a ditch somewhere.”

It hurt like a bitch, because deep down, you knew Topper had a point.

You were having a meltdown, and he’d stepped in, like he always did when you went off the rails. That was the problem with him—he cared, even when you didn’t want him to. He was family, the only family you had left, and he was too loyal for his own good.

“You could’ve told me,” you confessed what had been upsetting you, your voice losing some of its initial attitude. “About them. Instead of letting me walk into that party blind.”

Topper sighed again, “I should’ve,” he admitted. “I didn’t want you to find out like that. But it wasn’t my place to say anything. And I didn’t want to make things worse.”

Your hand instinctively moved to cup your stomach. You didn’t even realize you were doing it at first, but the second your fingers touched your shirt, the earlier panic welled up inside you again. If he only knew how bad things were. How bad they could get. You yanked your hand away like you’d been burned, heart hammering against your ribs most painfully. There was no way you could even begin to explain what was going on inside your head—or your body.

Not to Topper. Not to anyone. If he knew, he’d freak and you didn’t need that right now.

You clenched your jaw, pushing yourself to focus on the conversation, on Topper still yammering on about apologies and guilt You shook your head, a bitter smile tugging at your lips. 

“Are you even listening?”

“Unfortunately,” You sounded apathetic even to yourself, fingers tapping against the phone, agitated. “Look, Top, I don’t have time for this right now. I’m busy.”

He sighed. “I know you’re pissed, okay? I get it. But the gala’s in, like, two days. You... you still going, right?”

“Of course I’m going,” you scowled, barely able to hide the bitterness in your voice. “I have to. It’s not like I can just dip out and pretend it’s not happening.”

Unlike some people, you thought, but you bit your tongue.

“Good, because I’ll be there too. And I—”

“Oh, joy,” you interrupted, “Another chance for you to babysit me and make sure I don’t make a scene? Can’t wait.”

“Jesus, I’m just trying to help!” Topper groaned. “I didn’t want to make things worse the other night. I—”

“Yeah. Whatever, I’ll see you at the gala.”

You hung up. You didn’t have the patience to deal with him right now. 

The day of the gala came faster than you thought it would.

It was like you blinked, and suddenly, you were standing in the middle of the venue, walking through final checks with Lily, nodding along as she rattled off details you barely absorbed.

The room was all glitz and glamour, with chandeliers dripping from the ceiling, and everything draped in the foundation’s signature gold and white. 

Crisp tablecloths. Flowers in perfect, elegant arrangements. Waiters in black-tie uniforms were circulating, making sure everything looked flawless. Flawless.

That word made you want to gag.

You moved through the space like a ghost, smiling at the right moments, giving half-hearted approvals when needed.  You didn’t care. People were running around, asking for your opinion on this or that. You’d stayed at the venue longer than planned, making sure everything was in order, but your mind was stuck in that floating-place. You wanted to burn the whole thing down, if you were being honest.

You should’ve called your doctor. Days ago. Hell, maybe weeks ago.

Making smart choices wasn’t your thing lately, was it?

When you finally slipped into the room where they’d set up your glam team, you just wanted to sleep. The room itself was a suite off to the side of the venue, a private space meant to make you feel like royalty.

A massive mirror ran across one wall, surrounded by soft, glowing lights. A table was set up with everything—hair tools, makeup brushes, palettes, serums. Bottles of champagne sat chilled in the corner, the condensation dripping down the glass, untouched. It was the kind of place you were supposed to feel special in.

Normally you did. But this year you were numb.

The stylist worked quietly on your hair, soft curls falling into place as she tugged and pinned each section with meticulous care. The makeup artist was dabbing foundation onto your skin, blending and contouring until you didn’t even recognize yourself in the mirror. The dress hung behind you, a shimmering white gown, custom-designed by Versace for the occasion.

You looked like you were stepping into one of those perfect, glamorous lives. But on the inside, you felt like you were going to lose it at any second. You nodded along, giving tight-lipped smiles when they complimented you, and then they finally left.

The room was dead silent now, just you and your reflection. You stood in front of the mirror, staring at yourself, the perfect curls, the glowy skin, the gown waiting behind you. It all felt wrong. It felt fake. You didn’t bear a resemblance to yourself.

You looked like the version of you that the world expected—the untouchable girl. A doll.

Your rifled through your bag for your phone, but instead, your fingers brushed something else. Cold, hard. 

You hadn’t even realized it was in there.

One of the pregnancy tests. You must’ve thrown it in without thinking earlier that morning when you were rushing out the door. You hadn’t even noticed it until now.

What the fuck were you doing?

You had a gala to host in less than an hour. People were going to be looking at you, waiting for you to give the speech, expecting you to hold everything together like always. And there you were, standing in a private dressing room, about to do something so monumentally stupid. Maybe it was the pressure of tonight, or maybe it was the anger you’d been shoving down for weeks, but suddenly, you didn’t care.

You were going to do it.

Without even thinking, you stormed into the bathroom. You were so fucking tired of avoiding this. Tired of pretending like everything was fine, like you were fine.

What the hell was fine about any of this? You tore open the box, hands trembling as you pulled out the test. The room was so quiet, you could hear every little sound—your breath still uneven, the rustle of your dress against the tiles, the click of the test cap as you flicked it off.

You sat down, staring at the stick in your hand. This was insane. You were insane. Who the fuck took a pregnancy test ten minutes before they’re supposed to host a charity gala? 

You couldn’t get a proper breath out as you waited, heart pounding so hard it felt like it might rip your chest open. You leaned against the sink, gripping the edge. Your stomach churned, the nausea rising again, and you had to close your eyes to stop the floor from spinning.

What if it was positive? What if it wasn’t?

You stared at the test, willing the result to appear, but it didn’t. Not yet. The little window stayed blank, as if taunting you, making you feel like you were losing your mind. You knew you had to wait longer. You weren’t stupid. You’d read those instructions a million times by now, but you hated waiting.

Hated not knowing.

You couldn’t take your eyes off the stupid little piece of plastic. Just one line or two. That was all it came down to. One fucking line or two, and your entire life would either fall apart or what? Be fine?

You glanced at the mirror, catching another glimpse of yourself, and it almost startled you—your eyes were wild. Desperate. They were the eyes of someone who was just about ready to do anything to get this over with. 

You tried to picture telling him again, but the idea alone made you sick. You thought of Sofia, of her perfect smile next to his, and bile rose in your throat. Your hands never stopped shaking. You wanted to run. You wanted to throw that thing in the garbage can and never stare at it again.

Your thoughts spun in circles, going nowhere, just making everything worse. The clock on your phone ticked louder and louder, and you knew—somewhere out there, everyone was getting ready. Guests were arriving. The gala would start soon, and they’d all be waiting for you. Watching you. Expecting you to be the poised, perfect version of yourself you’d spent your whole life pretending to be.

And you were in here, trying not to lose your fucking mind.

You peeked back at it. Still nothing.

No line. No answer.

It felt like you were suspended in time. You closed your eyes, gripping the sink harder, praying for it to end—something to happen, anything.

Then finally, you felt it in your chest—a heavy, sinking feeling, like the moment before a fall.

You opened your eyes. 

There it was.

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[echoalyssa]

No Love | Dick Grayson

“You’re falling in love.” He whispers.

My heart throbs wildly in my chest and I glance away, hoping he won’t catch the swirl of emotions in my eyes.

I can’t confirm or deny his statement.

He sighs, running a hand through his hair and gripping the back of his neck. “I think you’re way past that.”

My eyes start to water and I clamp down on my lip. “It’s been a year…”

Dick’s jaw works. “What do you want from me?”

I look everywhere but at him, knowing that the second our eyes connect I’ll burst into tears.

I’m his little solider. I don’t cry. He doesn’t want me to cry.

“I don’t want anything from you… I just, I wasn’t supposed to feel this way about you but I do and you don’t feel the same and-“ I pause to wipe furiously at my eyes. “I’m upset and I know you don’t understand but I just wanted to be enough for you.”

“You are.” He leans forward, rubbing my knee with the thumb of his left hand. “I don’t understand where this is coming from. Everything was fine.”

I risk a glance up and the concern in his irises make my heart clench.

“I don’t know. I r-really don’t. I just… I don’t understand why you don’t love me.”

He doesn’t love me. He doesn’t love me. He doesn’t love me.

“Y/N… I care about you. I do. I don’t love people.”

“Neither do I!” My voice is louder than I intend it to be and I start to cry. “I didn’t hear those words for years growing up. I-I can count on one hand how many people I love in this world and you’re one of them. You don’t love me.”

Dick grimaces. He means well. He wasn’t behaving any differently than what the two of us had talked about when the whole ‘friends with benefits’ situation arose. I was the one that had caught feelings.

I love his friends. I love his family. I love the life we have together. I love our dynamic and his passion for the things he cares about. I love him. Almost painfully.

Dick had done nothing wrong and yet it felt like he had stabbed me through the heart. We had talked about this. Like mature adults. We’d laid down our ground rules and expectations.

We had different views for our futures. And because I loved him it meant knowing that he deserved more than a future with me.

To fall in love was to accept weakness. To have someone who can be used against you.

Still, I can’t help but ask the question because hope is a dangerous thing. “Do you think that’s going to change? Could you see y-yourself on the same level as me ever?”

Dick crosses the distance in half a stride and then he’s cradling my head to his chest, carting his fingers through my hair.

“I couldn’t even tell you how I’ll feel tomorrow. One day at a time remember?”

The tears fall heavier and I hiccup because he’s crushing me and it’s not even his fault.

“Don’t cry baby. Please don’t cry. Just enjoy being in the moment with me.”

It feels like the world is coming to an end. They say to love someone is to surrender complete control of your feelings and that’s true.

I let him hold me but inside I shatter. How could two people so perfect for each other not be together? How could he invest this much time into me and not love me? How could he look at me and touch me the way he did and not love me?

“It’s okay.” He murmurs but it’s anything but okay.

[moonlitwitchdaisy]

i’ll tell you the truth, but never goodbye

✰ warnings: +18 Minors Do Not Interact +18 (sorcerer suguru geto x non-sorcerer fem reader, manga and anime spoilers, angst, dead bodies, blood, regrets, mentioning of depression)

✰ a little note: it was something i had written before. since i’m in an angsty mood lately, i wanted to edit and share it. i hope you like it.

September 2007

Suguru Geto’s Family House

ᯓ★ ᯓ★ ᯓ★ ᯓ★

Deciding what is right and wrong has never been easy. Some powerful people choose to kill the weak for a better life. Because, after a certain point, dealing with their incompetence is nothing but a waste of time. The weak, who can’t even help themselves, ruin not only their own lives but cause the strong to lose themselves as well.

I was not weak. I never was.

Being born lucky wasn’t my choice. My mother and father couldn’t have known either.

Until recently, I believed that Jujutsu sorcerers lived to protect regular humans. But all of that was nothing more than a fucking lie.

Monkeys should disappear. Only then could sorcerers like me live in peace. Special people like us don’t need to waste our time protecting monkeys who do nothing but create trouble.

This is my truth. I don’t give a damn what others think. I was never able to laugh in this world. At least in the world I’ll create, I want to be happy.

“Suguru… what have you done?”

Standing in front of my father’s corpse, I turned toward the only voice in the world that could calm me.

I never wanted her to see this.

“Don’t look at me like an idiot, Suguru! I’m asking what the fuck you’ve done.” She spoke to me, her eyes filling with tears, and she was visibly furious.

God, I love her face so much.

When I looked back at my father’s corpse and then at her again, I didn’t know what to say. God, I hated this. Explaining what I had done was difficult while she looked at me that way.

I never wanted her to see me like this. I didn’t want to pull her into my darkness as I drowned in it. I knew she had seen and understood everything. She hadn’t left my side, not even for a moment, while I was depressed. But she didn’t deserve this.

“What do you want me to explain?”

She furrowed her brows as if she couldn’t believe what I was saying. “GET A GRIP, SUGURU! HOW COULD YOU DO THIS TO… TO YOUR FAMILY?”

Because they are nothing but monkeys standing in the way of the world I want to create.

Except for you. You could never be like them.

“They are not my family.”

As if her legs couldn’t support her body anymore, she collapsed to the ground. With eyes red from crying, she looked at the lifeless bodies of my parents lying on the floor.

“How… how can you say that? They loved you so-”

“DON’T YOU DARE FINISH THAT SENTENCE!”

“WHAT? DID IT BOTHER YOU THAT THEY LOVED YOU, GETO?”

I walked over to her, grabbing her arms and pulling her up. I pushed her body against the nearest wall, looking at her with a fury I’d never shown before. She, on the other hand, watched me with disappointment.

“Of course I know.” I replied calmly, as if all my anger had vanished. “Do you think it was easy to see the love in their eyes for me while I killed them? But they aren’t like me. Love can’t surpass everything.”

“I’m not like you either.”

No, you’re not, but I don’t care. I could never hurt you.

“And I… I love you too.” She closed her eyes and continued speaking. “I’ve known you since I was ten, Suguru. You were always the person I dreamed of.”

You’re that person for me too.

“I knew you were different. Not because of your special powers. You were the person with the most beautiful heart I had ever known, Suguru. That’s what made you special.”

I wanted to die. I wanted to shatter into millions of pieces at that moment so I wouldn’t have to hear these truths spoken by the girl I loved.

“Do you remember the day I confessed to you? We were on the balcony of this house. Just the two of us. I thought it was the perfect time to tell you everything inside me.”

Yes, I remember. I still remember every detail, from the blue dress you wore to the messy bun you had in your hair.

You were beautiful. You always are.

Still with her eyes closed, as if afraid to look at my face, she continued speaking, “God, I was trembling with excitement. I was so curious about what you’d say. You were always kind and caring toward me, but I didn’t know if you wanted something more.”

I did. I do. I’ve loved you since I saw you when I was ten.

“When I clumsily told you everything I felt, I couldn’t even look at your face.” She laughed after her words. “I was so sure you’d reject me. But you didn’t. Instead, you pulled me close and hugged me. Then you whispered in my ear that you loved me.”

Yes. That’s what I did. In that moment, I was the happiest person in the world. Every time I tell you I love you, I’m the happiest person in the world.

Finally, she opened her eyes and looked at me with a genuine smile. I couldn’t stand it any longer. I wanted to destroy anything that made her sad and make her smile again. But it was me who made her cry. Damn it, I was the one who caused the person I loved most to cry. And no matter what I did, I would never be able to fix that.

“I can’t believe it’s been three years since that day. I’ve loved you since I was ten, but it took me four more years to finally tell you. But I didn’t care.”

Please, stop.

“I didn’t care about your special powers. Or the millions of girls who wanted you. I still don’t.”

Please. Enough.

“When you were depressed, I did everything I could. Even when you tried to push me away, I… I insisted on staying by your side. I knew you were struggling.”

“Please stop…”

She didn’t stop. “I told you everything would pass, that you’d smile again like before, because that’s what should happen. You would be with Satoru and Shoko. You’d protect people like me, people who have no power. And—”

“Stop—”

“You’d be with me.” She looked at me with tearful eyes again. “Damn it… we’d be happy together. We’d go to see the northern lights we always wanted to see. You’d buy me that ring you promised. We’d have a family.”

“I still want that—”

“HOW CAN YOU STILL WANT THAT?” She began shouting. “HOW CAN YOU LOOK ME IN THE EYE AND SAY YOU STILL WANT THESE THINGS, SUGURU? WHEN YOU’VE FUCKED EVERYTHING UP? WHEN YOU’VE BECOME A MERCILESS KILLER?”

“I don’t know. It’s just that the part of me that’s still good wants to live the life you described.”

“STUPID, STUPID, STUPID,” she kept hitting my chest with her fists, cursing me with every word. I deserved every blow for each moment I hurt her. I wanted to be better for her. I wanted to be the man she deserved. I should have shown up as the man she once knew and fixed everything.

But I couldn’t.

With my hands pressed against the wall on either side of her, I cupped her face and did what I had longed to do.

Her lips were still so soft. Kissing her felt like a drug. Even if I knew it would eventually kill me, I still wanted her.

I was a damn addict. I was addicted to everything about her. And I never intended to break free.

I kissed her as if I knew I’d never see her again. Her fists stopped hitting me. This time, she clutched my white shirt tightly, pulling me closer as if she wanted me even nearer.

There wasn’t a single moment when I wanted to be away from her.

Breaking the kiss, I rested my forehead against hers. I don’t know how long we stayed like that. Silently crying without saying a word.

She was the one who finally broke the silence. “Are you going to kill me too?”

She could have said anything to me. Called me a coward or someone who didn’t understand love. No words could have hurt more than what she just asked.

I let out a small laugh. “Kill you? Shit, maybe I should, but I can’t. Do you know why?”

She didn’t say anything, just looked at me with heartbroken eyes.

“Because I can’t imagine a life without you. Even if I never see you again, just knowing you’re alive is enough for me to keep going.”

“Weren’t you the one who just said love can’t surpass everything?” She spoke with a bittersweet smile.

“Yes, but you… you’re different. When it comes to you, everything stops.”

Still smiling, she wiped away my tears with her fingers, placing kisses on my cheeks.

“I know you love me, Suguru, but there’s no going back from here. You made your choice.”

Yes, I did. I wish some things could have been different.

“Do you know what’s worse? I still love the new version of you and I don’t think I could ever stop loving you.”

Please, don’t. Because no matter what, I won’t stop either.

She held the hands that caressed her cheeks, lowering them so I’d let go. I knew she was going to leave. Staying with me would only make things worse. Her soft lips, her warm body and her beautiful laugh were gone.

In truth, they’d been gone for a long time.

“I hope you find happiness in the new world you create, Suguru. All I wish is for you to smile again, like before.” She placed one final kiss on my lips and started walking toward the door of the house where I’d killed my family. When she turned back to look at me once more, she said, “Maybe we’ll meet in another life, right?”

My freshly dried tears began to roll down my cheeks again. “I’ll find you in every life, my love. I just hope that in the next one, I’ll be the man you deserve.”

She didn’t respond to my words. She only smiled, and then walked out the door.

After she left, my eyes drifted once more to my parents’ lifeless bodies, lying in a pool of blood.

There was no turning back from the path I had chosen. The only thing left to do was to try and find a way to smile once in the new world I wanted to create for sorcerers.

all rights belong to the @moonlitwitchdaisy do not copy, reproduce, or translate my work.

suguru art in the cover made by @reynisxxsimart

[liquidorcard]

HEY Y'ALL IT'S MIKAILER WITH AN "ER" WHY IS THAT SO HARD TO GRASP!?

---

Did I get your attention, Mikaila? I hope so, let's see.

Mikaila, I don't like you. You've done shit that's soured my opinion of you. I'm acknowledging that now to get that out of the way. I'm not here to be two-faced about this or blow smoke up your ass.

But as one idiot who stayed in a toxic relationship to another-- I'm not making fun of you because I think I'm better. I know. Being in a relationship like that brings out some ugly shit. You resent and fear people will never forgive you. You don't know if you will forgive yourself. I'm not making fun of you because I think I'm better than you.

And it feels kinda good, being treated badly? In a weird way? When you're used to it? When you feel you kind of deserve it? It did for me too. My abuser did some fucked up shit to me. I don't know how to describe to you the strange feelings I'm left with now. Sometimes I think I finally hate her, sometimes, as pathetic as it makes me feel, I still miss her. It's a rot in you that never really goes away, but you learn to live with it. I understand that agony. I understand that anger of how fucking unfair it is.

You know my opinion of Lily. You're not going to trust me that I'm not saying all this just to get you two to break up to hurt her. Fair. Very fair, not going to pretend like it's not. But if Lily loves you, nothing I'm about to say should be an issue. She should want what's best for you, right?

Here's the rub Mikaila, it's been a few years now. I know you want out of your situation at home, but it doesn't seem like Lily's going to be able to help you with that at this point. I'm sure Lily's given you plenty of reasons as to why, and it's time to listen to her.

If you're heart's set on coming to Canada, your best bet is getting a job here. Or even, going to school. Art degrees (Here in Canada) aren't as expensive, provided you go to the right school. Even taking out a student loan for just one year to figure your shit out. I know you're in quite a bit of debt right now and don't want to get into more, but. You gotta do what you gotta do.

Here's the college I went to. Yes, your work is sufficient to potentially get admitted. Believe it or not, art school's get that illustration is a learned skill. Artists start from all different levels:

Look through the admissions requirements to see if you have the academic records to be admitted. If not, you could also consider upgrading through online classes aswell.

Again though, your best bet is to try to find employment. The cost of living isn't great here right now, but it isn't great anywhere. I doubt you'll be able to find cheaper rent in America.

Once you're here or wherever you end up, away from the chaos of your home, you might find it a lot easier to get your head around, establishing some better independence and becoming a citizen by yourself. It's a shitty process, but not as bad as the one you guys have in the States. We stan an immigrant here.

You need to look out for you, Mikaila. It's not selfish. It's not a matter of whether you "really deserve it or not." Nobody's going to save you. You're emotionally spent because of your parents, You're emotionally spent because of Lily. And it feels kind of nice how much Lily needs you. But you can't help her until you help yourself - and again, if we're all wrong and Lily really loves you, she shouldn't have a problem with you finding your way.

My own mother once told me I was "born sad." I've never not hated myself. I ate up any little bit of love and validation no matter how many bitter, razor pills that came with it too. That's just how it is for some of us.

But you know what Mikaila? Fuck em. Fuck all of them. Fuck everything. Fuck me, Mikaila. You've got one life. One body. One you. Whatever you think of her, someone's gotta fight for that poor bitch. Why not you fight for you?

Everyone's a stinky meat bag stripped down, Mikaila. Everyone's made a fool in the wake of the shit people like you and I have been through. Not everyone's going to be able to forgive everything, but everyone's not wholly past forgiveness.

I'm no better than you Mikaila. Nobody is. Some of us just get to know the worst sides of ourselves better than others.

I don't like some of the things you've done, girl. But I see you. I get it. Tell us all to eat shit. Fix your life. Don't rely on Lily to make you feel whole or to save you. To make you feel worthy. No person can do that. She could be the reincarnation of Mary Mother of God herself, and you couldn't expect that from her. Be your own advocate. If your relationship isn't toxic, it can survive you becoming a more whole you.

This asshole is rooting for you. Give me an excuse to undoomer "Mikailer." My girl needs a win.

[1apple-fox1]

ngl the influx of rar asks and art got me pretty stoked- but when i think about drawing humans again im like 'ew'

[beautifulterriblequeen]

Horrible new theory about Runaan's shirt today.

-no, not the new one, the one he lost-

He's still got his green assassin shirt here on the balcony, and vest too:

But by the time Gren is thrown into the dungeon a couple days later, it's missing.

Runaan's also sporting bags under his eyes because he'd been kept awake all night, enjoying Viren's frustrations about losing Harrow and also getting denied the crown of Katolis.

So. About that missing shirt.

I can't think of too many things worse for a guy who wears four shirts at once than to have them all taken off while he's badly hurt and manacled to the wall, and then be tickled half to death all night long, on his birthday.

[bravesung]

even  though  wetness  stained  your  cheeks,  you’ve  done  what  you’ve  been  accustomed  to  doing:  you  gave  him  your  softest  smile,  hand  motioning  as  if  you  were  swatting  the  assumption  away.  ❛   I  should  be  hearing  back  in  a  little  while,  assuming  my  message  went  through.  if  the  dojo  is  in  tokyo,  then  this  will  be  alot  easier with  her  help.  also  .  .  .  you  didn’t offend me ,  I  assure  you.  you  have  a  really  kind  soul,  mister  rock  ━━ I  am  not  surprised  that  was  your  response.  you  want  to  see  the  good  in  people,  and  there  is  nothing  wrong  with  that.  ❜  it  was  an admirable  thing  to  bear  such  a  gentle  heart  still  when  raised  by  someone  so  demonic.  such  resilience,  such  dedication.  feeling  like  your  chest  is  caving  in,  you  head  toward  the  kitchen  area,  but  not  before  saying  what  has  been  circling  in  your  mind,  speaking  slightly  above  a  whisper.  ❛ someone  .  .  .  will  be  so  lucky  to  have  you. ❜

now,  in  the  kitchen,  you  bite  down  on  your  bottom  lip,  everything  that  happened  up  to  this  point  replaying  in  your  head:

he  didn’t  like  how  much  you  hung  out  with  sachiko,  so  he  isolated  you  from  her. he  likes  coloured  hair,  so  you  dye  it. he  loses  a  bet,  so  you  have  to  embrace  the  punishment. you  tried  to  leave  without  his  permission,  so  you  ended  up  chained  in  the  room. you  didn’t  say  ‘I  love  you’  to  him,  so  you  had  to  put  on  extra  makeup  to  make  sure  the  bruises  didn’t  show. he  apologized,  so  you  stayed. it  was  for  your  parents,  so  you  stayed. you  were  worthless  if  otherwise,  so  you  stayed. it  made  your  mother  happy,  so  you  stayed. so  you  stayed  .  .  .  so  you  stayed.

so

          you

                         stayed.

you’re  shuddering  and  shivering,  the  walls  feeling  like  they’re  closing  in  on  you.  never  in  your  life  did  you  feel  like  you  despise  someone,  but  you  were  realizing  how  much  it  was  bubbling  in  the  pit  of  your  stomach  when  you  thought  of  koji.

you  would  have  never  loved  him. you  would  have  never  given  yourself  to  him. you  would  have  never  birthed  his  children. he  would  have  never  deserved  you.

rock,  on  the  other  hand  .  .  .  wait,  what?

siennas  shifts  left  and  right;  you  pretend  that  the  last  segment  of  internal  monologue  did  not  exist:  you  do  not  even  know  rock  howard,  yet  somehow  that  thought  found  a  place  in  the  forefront  of  your  mind  (  maybe  it  was  just  his  kindness,  maybe  it  was  the  way  he  protected  you  back  there.  you’re  overthinking.  ).  trying  to  focus,  you  run  your  hand  through  your  hair,  eyelids  widening  as  fingers  stop  midway  through  lengthy  tresses  :  he  liked  your  hair  long  ,  so  you  didn’t  cut  it,  no  matter  how  much  it  bothered  you.  that  was  it!  locating  a  pair  of  scissors  on  the  countertop,  teeth  grit  together  as  you  pull  your  hair  into  a  low  ponytail,  lined  the  blades  to  be  shoulder-length,  then  proceed  to  cut  it.  instantly,  you  felt  lighter,  more  tears  streaming  down  your  face.  you  actually  .  .  .  felt  free.

in  the  moment,  you  didn’t  realize  right  away  the  phone  you  were  given  was  vibrating  ━━  seeing  the  familiar  number  made  you  quickly  exclaim  once  you  answered.  ❛  you  got  my  voicemail!  ❜   there  was  a  laugh  on  the  other  end,   ❛  of  course  I  did!  I  needed  to  make  sure  everything  was  in  place  before  I  called  back.  I  have  a  friend  who  helped  me  out,  too.  you’ll  like  him! I  wish  I  would  get  more  than  his  first  name,  though.  anyway.  I  am  going  to  wire  you  some  money  to  your  other  account.  take  the  6:15am  train  from  kyoto  to  shinjuku,  might  be  the  best  way  to  go.  i’ll  meet  you  at  the  station.  i’m  so  glad  you  got  away  from  that  weirdo  ━━━  oh  shoot,  it’s  almost  about  to  be  three  minutes,  he  told  me  that’s  the  max  before  it  can  be  tracked.  okay,  love  you,  bye!  ❜  once  sachiko  hung  up,  you  head  back  into  the  main  room  to  tell  rock  the  news.  ❛  I  am  so  sorry!  I  will  make  the  food  soon,  I  just  got  the  callback  ━━━━  I  also,  uhm  ,  forgot  I  had  your  phone,  so  I  apologize  .  .  .  b-but,  my  best  friend  is  sending  me  money  to  an  account  that  koji  didn’t  know  about  and  we will  need  to  take  the  6:15am  train  into  shinjuku.  she’ll  meet  us  there  ━━━  she  has  a  friend  helping  her.  I  hope  that’s  okay.  .  .  !  ❜

━━   ❝   𝐈'𝐦 𝐬𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐲. 𝐈 𝐦𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐨𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐲𝐚.    ❞  After all, who was he to give an assumption of her mother? He’s not met the woman period so there was no way he could gauge what she could have been feeling throughout her daughter’s CRUCIBLE, to hear that she would advise Hana to grin and bear it, to not upset her future husband really didn’t sit well with him at all. It was probably for the best she remained in the kitchen preparing them both tea and perhaps a small lunch. Well..whatever she could make with a lot of canned foods. This place IS made to keep him hidden for quite some time, it’d be beyond the place’ purpose if he kept quick perishable foods.

“I know I’ve got tons of instant noodles, with tongs of canned soup and veggies. Look hard enough in the pantry and you might even find canned tuna or salmon..not that they’ll go good with the soup. Either way the people you called, where did you say they’ll be waiting to meet us?? Because I know that bastard has a dojo somewhere in Tokyo. That could be the first we overthrow.”

[yourgamemasterthewhiterabbit]

For someone who's autistic and poorly socialized, it's surprisingly not often something happens to me socially that I just do not fucking understand or feel like I would have to make wild assumptions to wrap my head around. Normally when I am confused it has slightly more to do with being on the asexual side of demi and not understanding that people flirt sometimes.

So truly baffling interactions with family are rare. Usually I understand what's going on socially from an objective standpoint, even if I can't groc why they are treating me that way and can't seem to realize the absurdity of it, etc...

But the scenario is as follows:

Background:

I have had more than one stalker by the age of 18. One of which is banned from multiple public places because his MO was to hang out in public placed you would be known to frequent, like a mall, catch someone alone and beat the ever-loving shit out of them, usually for being gay or trans. We are talking multiple 'peace bonds' against this person by the time he was 18-20 himself. He also has a habit of cornering younger women and pressuring them for sex when they are someplace isolated and around a general tendency to make threatening comments. He started dating me when I was 14 and in the years since I broke up with him and left town I have become increasingly openly gay and trans, and he has done a lot of asking about WHERE I went off to.

I am not unaware that him specifically asides, people can use recognizing me in shared public spaces as a way to target me without knowing my exact address, the the rule has been that anyone who knows me isn't allowed to tell anyone else even what city I live in. I take other precautions like not having myself or my home in photos that haven't had the metadata scrubbed, like using a vpn obsessively and not taking photos outside with potentially recognizable landmarks or landscapes, etc... But very generally the main rule everyone else has to follow is just not fucking allude to where I live or where I will be visiting ahead of time because someone who used to know me might figure it out and if he can figure out even what mall to wait at, he might hurt me, or someone else might use the same MO.

That fact that multiple other exs since have taken up some stalkery-ass behaviour is kind of just terrible icing on the issue. The fact that I voice strong opinions online and might become a somewhat noted author at some point if I get my way is kind of a side note, but also relevant.

The problem so far:

My sister has fucking habitually refused to stop mentioning where I live or where she assumes I live or where I will be visiting for the holidays. She makes allusions to it or mentions she will visit my mother and I at the same time when I actually lived close to her and etc...

Neither of them would take this threat seriously. The fact that my sister is a compulsive liar who will just invent information and insist on it to try to get her way should be beside the point, but instead it means my mother believed her account of what this guy is capable of or interested in more than my own, and -for whatever reason- despite trusting my judgement on most things when it's convenient to her, will not trust my judgement that my city of residence being public knowledge is actually dangerous to me.

My sister would not stop mentioning where I live, accurate or not, so the rule became not to tell her where I live. Period. So my mother started playing this game of letting her guess and assume where I had moved to and simply not correcting her when she got it right.

My sister also has a habit of being very verbally abusive to me and just yelling at me the entire time I am trying to have a conversation with her, so at some point I cut her off for a couple years, and then told her the rules were that she could talk to me on the condition she stop calling me names. And that she was not allowed to know where I lived.

During the time we weren't speaking my mother kept saying shit like "So what? I'm not ALLOWED to have both my *daughters* in my life >:(" and generally guilt-tripping me about not speaking to my sister, and still basically ignoring the rule about not telling her where I live.

And my sister may have eventually stopped even vaguely alluding to having contact with me, but mostly after she stopped having any contact with me.

The current problem:

My mother will start to agree with me that I am being reasonable and that she's plenty capable of doing what I am asking if she finds out I am going to move, and still refuse to move in with her, and right after I move until she gets my address again, and then she just cycles back to the same bullshit, including trying to talk me into living with her so I can take care of her all the time and so I have no choice about her or my sister knowing where I live. Always under the guise of saving costs.

So I find out my mother has been -in effect- continuously confirming for my sister where I live, no matter how many times I have reminded her that the general city is as important a secret as my exact address. She was all "Well obviously she knows you live in [redacted]!", when there's no way to know that without her losing a game of 21 questions or telling her, and when I got upset and tried to explain the FUCK AGAIN why it has to be the city too she cycled right back to "Oh get over it! >:(" and "can't you just live in isolation alone for ever and never make an opinion know online so no one has any reason to target you so that I can just keep doing what I want without you bitching!?!"

And I just... After the realization that she was always going to cycle back to this once she personally had gotten my address out of me, and that it was going to make it unsafe for me to live anywhere forever, most of all in the cities I loved the most, my second pick, my third and so on... I just... I finally just hung up on her.

And I got the expected slew of unacceptable texts, suicide threats, guilt tripping, emotional manipulation...

But the thing about your parents trying to use guilt and shame and emotional manipulation to control you since you were a literal toddler, is that the "grey rock" response isn't an act, It's genuine, it isn't just an automatic way to cope, or pretending not to care so they don't feel like their shitty behaviour is being rewarded, you genuinely stop caring, lose interest, and emotionally shut down about the issue. She flicked the switch in my brain where I go from hyper-empathy towards the well meaning, to absolutely no empathy at all for people who are intentionally trying to take advantage or cause harm, and I am not in control of that. So she can throw tantrums all she fucking wants and there is literally no going back. Sorry if you want to know why I am like this look at the people who fucked to make me and then screwed with my head for 16 years and called it parenting!

My sister in the meantime had started tentatively texting and calling me again after years of being allowed to but simply opting not to, probably out of fear she would fuck it up. And we were getting along! She wasn't being mean and we were good!

But the moment I cut off my mother and dropped to 2 texts a year for birthday and xmas, and any necessary legal shit for paperwork, my sister stops talking to me.

No response to happy birthday or merry x-mas [which I don't even celebrate but whatever]. Nothing. Dead air. One text where she tried to defend that mom never technically told her where I lived. And then silence.

And two things stand out to me:

I get the sense that this is about her feelings towards me because I specified multiple times this was nothing to do with her at this point, that the rules for her hadn't changed, and that now mom was just on new boundaries because she couldn't fucking be trusted to respect mine

I get the nagging sense that despite that mom guilt tripped the shit out of me for not talking to my sister, she is not, in fact, bitching at my sister to text me back. I get the sense that instead she is trying to commiserate with her about how unreasonable and cold-hearted I am, and perhaps even trying to convince her to cut me out to teach me some kind of lesson.

But these are wild guesses because my sister has not communicated fuck all to me except to simply stop talking/interacting. I actually have very little idea if any of my suspicions as to why actually hold any water.

This is not an AITA post because victims -or anyone- deserve to set boundaries about their personal information and have them fucking respected regardless of how rational you think they are being. I don't think it's unreasonable that if shutting up about my location is just not physically or mentally realistic for them that they shouldn't get to know where I have moved to. They don't get to demand to have that information and also demand to do whatever they want with it even if it makes me unsafe.

I am just genuinely a little lost as to why cutting my mom off means my sister has decided she doesn't want to speak to me, or if she thinks this somehow means I don't want to speak to her.

That's it though. That's the reason I don't speak to my sister either since my mom "fucked up", I didn't cut them both off as some kind of unit or packaged deal or something [lumping someone in thoughtlessly with my sister by association is their job]. She -again- stopped talking to me the moment there were new boundaries involved. And to be honest, I actually do not know why this time. It's as inscrutable to me as whatever the real reasons are my father never bothers talking to me.

Anyway if my mother actually wanted both her kids in her life she could have stopped perpetuating the reason for contention between us, she could have respected my boundaries herself and she could respect my fucking gender. She could have actually bothered to be on her best behaviour for my sake instead of only pretending to respect my boundaries when other people were watching, or if she figured I wouldn't KNOW [and therefor would have no idea I was in danger].

And if I the fuck find out she's been trying to pit my sister against me now [we did not need help struggling to get along bitch]...

[upsidedowngrass]

im thinking abt liam and bryce SO much rn now. theyre dynamic is so. sorry liam. sorry bryce

[bokuwadekinaiko]

cw post / tags. sorry

i don't even know if i have the words

to express this

she's gone

and its all my fault

[lesbiansanemi]

Bad day. Horrible awful terrible bad day

[yujeong]

Fic snippet #2: BostonNick

All the previous times, Nick had been preoccupied with crying his eyes out to even entertain such a thought. This time, though. This time it was different. This time something clicked in his head as he was listening to the tape. He was calm and relaxed, just out of the shower, and when the noises started getting a little more intense, there was movement in his pants. Oh well. It wouldn't be the first time he jerked off to something that he shouldn't.

[opens-up-4-nobody]

...

[davy-zeppeli]

I feel fucking horrible

[the-casbah-way]

i’m so burnt out every time i wake up the idea of going outside and pretending to be a functional adult is so unbearable i just want to stay in bed all day so i can be in my own head because the world i have invented there is the only one in which i can find any kind of peace or comfort and it’s because i don’t exist in that version of the world. i’m not compatible with reality and i’m not compatible with normal people and it takes so much out of me to keep functioning that once i get home and peel it all back there is literally nothing left. it’s so annoying because even though i constantly wish i was dead it’s not because i actually want to die because i don’t want to die at all. i just want to stop feeling like this all the time and i want to exist in a world that isn’t so overwhelming and horrible and confusing for me and if i could just take the time off that i need to rest and decompress when i’m overstimulated and burnt out then i’d probably be ok. but the real world is just relentless and if you want to get a degree and hold down a job you’re not allowed to stop so i guess i have to just do this until it kills me

[onlyseokmins]

hahahahaha yeah don’t imagine dk with hand wraps and how pretty his fingers would look. or his arms weighed down by boxing gloves. or like a really loose fitting boxing vest hanging down over his chest with his arms out. or him all sweaty with his hair pushed back. or his fucking calves over the tops of those boots they wear, in baggy shorts. don’t do that to yourself. definitely do not think about it - 🍿 x

I AM OFFENDED (BLESSED) THE ABSOLUTE DISRESPECT HERE