#in abusive relationship they will often get the partner to slowly cut contact with the people they know | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

readbyred · 4 years ago

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i was wondering if you could do a gender neutral reader with the "having a crush on you" preference except with the Black Friday cast (i don't really mind what characters from the cast as along as Ethan's included) it's completely fine if not! Thank you for reading.

Of course! Thank you so much for requesting^^

Having a crush on you - Black Friday

i wanted to finish this on the same day so i made some cuts, i really wanted to write about sherman (gary and older!ted too to be honest) but mayhaps i will get back to it in the future^^

Linda

she’s very,, confused

because she wants to show you love and all but promises herself she won’t sink that low

tries to impress you so hard it’s not even funny

but i assume the fact that she’s rich doesn’t instantly make you swoon

so that leaves her with little to no ideas

she’s SO over the top and unironically uses the ‘oh i didn’t see you there’ because she’s too proud to admit she’s been seeking you

wants to make you fall for her as fast as possible because she feelslike you should be pining for her not the other way around

has some self doubt if you are blind to her (terrible) advances but would never admit it

she tries to be funny and be mean to ohers like she berated becky because she wants to make you laugh and she would die if she was nice for 5 seconds

remember draco from avpm? yeah she’s like that but worse

actually stops sleeping around as fast as she catches feelings

Lex

very casual about it

trusts you with her private life and just in confides you in general

but other than that she doesnt treat you any differently

she thinks she doesn’t have time for relationships and she needs to focus on work and on her sister

when pamela started pushing more illegal activities onto her she distances herself

if you stick through it she’ll grow closer to you

comes over a lot if you allow her

tells you about her plans for the future and asks about yours

meets you for smoke breaks to talk about work and life and how much both suck

teases you sometimes

gets high and plans the future with you on the days her mom is out and when hannah is asleep

can get blushy at times but masks it well

Frank

he’s very extra but thinks he’s being smooth

makes himself out to be the good guy of every situation because he wants you to be on his side

very flirty

talks a lot about you

lex will probably ‘accidentally’ slip up about this if he was being a bigger jerk than usual earlier that day

in general does a 180 with his attitude to seem more nice

since his accomplishments (and worth a bit too) to him mostly consist of how good he’s doing at his job he will gladly brag about it

tries to show you his side and his ideals

overall he wants you to like him but he’s not really putting in the effort to be a more likeable person

Ethan

the second he sees you his iq drops to negative 20

so most people can tell he likes you just by how stupid he’s acting

would do anything for you if you asked and does many favours in general even if you didn’t ask

wants to impress you SO BADLY which woud be alright if he would’t also show off

now he’s not much of a show-off usually but if someone dares him he will do a lot of stupid things to make you laugh or impress you

but that’s the more dangerous side, he also tries to take care of you and help you in stuff

firstly because he likes to see you happy but he also wants you to see him as someone who’s good enough for you because he’s not very sure he it

surprisingly he’s somewhat shy about phisical contact but will gladly gove you some if you initiate it first

and did i mention he’s extremely protective (not posessive for the record) and can and will get into a fight if someone threatens you

in most cases he’ll listen to you if you state that you don’t want him doing so

jokes with you a lot too

but can be serious if you need it

like when you are upset he’s the first one to come and offer you comfort even if he’s not always the best at it

saves up to give you nice things too

Tom

(i dont really like him so it will be short)

very soft for you

slowly opens up to you

after some time introduces you to Tim

has times when things are going too quick and he steps back

very nervous and awkward in the beggining

i mean as time goes on it doesn’t get THAT better but he has his moments

protective of you

asks for your opinion often and likes to listen to you talk

Becky

you thought tom was awkward? well she’s worse

tries to compliment you but is very shy about it

always listens to what you have to say

doesn’t ask you to meet but always gladly accepts your offers

gives you some phisical affection if you consent (like hugs when she greets you)

very worried for you and always makes sure you’re okay if something bad happens

praises you a lot even for small things

the whole town knows at this point

Wilbur

he will jump right into action and by that i mean he will be a creep

i’m sorry but he’s just like that at this point

catcalls and makes comments

he knows all timelines and uses that to show you that being with him will end better than some of your other lives (having aliens wear your skin, dying in a explosion) which isn’t much but he also uses details from your personal life too like in two years time you’ll have an abusive partner do you really wanna that over this

look, i said he likes you i never said that’s a good thing

and well, you don’t know how he got there but he’s sometimes hanging around your apartment now and that’s just life now

personal space? privacy? who’s are they?

flirts heavily but doesn’t get romantic, i feel like he’d be more all bark no bite type with it

lots of casual phisical contact

might steal your clothes,,,

Cineplex teen

at first he tries to avoid you because he doesn’t think you’d like him back

but also because he doesn’t want to embarass himself

he’s smitten and a bit of a mess but he’s also very tired so usually his lack of energy prevents him from doing something unusually stupid

if someone he doesn’t know questions him about his feelings he’ll deny it not to make you uncomfortable

but if a friend does he just tells the truth already having given up on the case

if you need help with something (and he works everywhere so location isn’t important here) he’ll gladly help you and will give additional tips

sometimes zones out staring

#black friday x reader #black friday preference #black friday lex #cineplex teen #black friday becky #black friday tom #starkid #black friday starkid #black friday frank #black friday linda #ethan green #ethan green x reader

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prose-for-hire · 5 years ago

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Love and other lies we tell ourselves

Pairing: Spike x reader

Request: Hi, could you do a Spike x Reader where the reader is in a controlling/abusive relationship and one day everyone is together and Spike notices and protects her and it’s just really cute and fluffy?

Warning: reader is in an abusive/controlling relationship. I’ve written it in a way that the reader is trying to reassure themselves that this behaviour is normal. The behaviour is not normal.

A/N: It isn’t so fluffy/cute but Spike is soft with the reader. If you want to pop another request in, I can try and write something fluffier for you, but this is where I went with it.

If you, like Spike, recognise this in a loved one’s behaviour, please talk to them or offer them support. And if you recognise this yourself, please talk to someone if you are safe to do so.

This day was one you were dreading. You knew it was probably going to end up here, but you were hoping you could cling onto this part of your life a little longer. Your partner had been getting a little jealous of all of the irregular hours. You had tried checking in every hour, calling him up when you could, but eventually this wasn’t enough. He didn’t like you going out for long in the day, let alone strange hours of the night. It had fast become a problem. He told you it was because he loves you so much. He wants to make sure you’re okay and you believed him because, why else would he want you to be with him all of the time? Stop contacting your friends so he could have more of you? This is love. Passionate love. Right?

You were sat in the magic box, waiting for everyone to arrive. You hadn’t slept the night before, having debated yourself well after the sun rose in the sky, peaking through your blinds and casting a golden glow across the room as he held you against him. But you felt anything but golden. He had apologised profusely after the argument. He only shouted because you meant something to him. Because he cared.

When everyone arrived at the Magic Box, you made your short announcement, “I’m not helping you anymore” You say evenly, trying to iron all of the emotion from your voice.

“What do you mean you’re not-”

“I don’t want to do this. I want a normal life. I want to be happier” Because maybe, if you did this, things at home would get better. If you cut yourself off from your friends. If you stopped going out at night. That way, he wouldn’t shout if you forgot to phone within the hour or if you did something wrong when you were eventually home. He was irritated when you were home but that could be because of all the time you spent away.

Maybe if you stayed with him more often, reassured him, things could get better. Anything was better than the argument you had last night. He had never been violent before, you had forced him into a corner with it really, trying to cling to him. Show your affection through your embrace. He didn’t want your embrace and he had grabbed your wrist, pulling it away violently with a sickening crunch. You had never seen him like that before and you knew. You knew you didn’t want to hurt him like that again. So that’s how you came to your decision both in leaving the Scooby gang and in wearing a long-sleeved top today to hide the bruising around your wrist.

“You can’t just leave!”

“No, they can. If I wasn’t the chosen one, I’d like the choice to go” Buffy stuck up for you as the others started to shout. Shouting made you cry, which was what you were fighting against as Xander started to rant about leaving the world to save itself.

Spike had been silent throughout, just staring at you. Spike loved you, he really did. So watching you was something he found himself doing often. However, recently he had noticed subtle changes in your demeanour. You never smiled as much, only having heard you laugh on a handful of occasions with the others when you used to giggle infectiously all of the time. You barely looked him in the eye anymore and today you appeared to be cradling your wrist as if it was a new-born.

He had also noticed how desperate you were when your cell ran out of battery two nights ago when you were patrolling with him and you cried silently until you found a payphone. He hadn’t mentioned anything at the time, but he had heard the conversation which was just you apologising over and over again in a way that he knew wasn’t necessarily in character. You were a very strong person, this hadn’t changed, but the great flashing alarm bells when you had started acting so different were concerning him. This was the final straw. You would never turn your back on your friends. On fighting evil.

“I’m sorry, just, please give me some space. I just want to be away from all of this now” you gestured at them all. The way you said that, implying to everyone loud and clear you didn’t want them contacting you for anything. This made them frown, you had always been a good friend, reliable. Why were you being so cold?

Some words were exchanged, not all kind, before you left the store. Spike was the only one that followed you out.

“You know what I think? You don’t want this really” Spike said, as he matched your pace. You were still biting back tears after saying goodbye, in your mind, for probably the last time to your friends. You weren’t going to see them anymore, so he could be happy with you again.

“Spike, please, I need to get home” You said bluntly, wiping your eyes on your sleeves, not realising your sleeve had slipped slightly to reveal your bruising. His jaw tensed when he saw it, which is why he bit back.

“Why? So he doesn’t use you as a glorified punch-bag when you walk in the door?” You stop dead. This was why you were hurrying, he had never physically hurt you before until last night and you didn’t want it to happen again.

“That’s not funny” You warn him, hugging your middle as you knew Spike was the type of person that could see through stuff like this.

“I’m not laughing, y/n” He said, his face set. You just stared and he went to comfort you, a hand on your shoulder but you pulled away. Flinching ever so slightly, if he didn’t have vampire senses, he may have missed it.

“He’s been hurting you, hasn’t he?” He asked and when your eyes dropped to the floor, he knew it was true. The bruising wasn’t an accident or a demon, “Bastard – you just wait until I-”

“He-he didn’t mean it. He was upset, he missed me…” You tailed off, knowing exactly how it sounded as you pulled your sleeve back down. His jaw tensed, angry at the way he had made you feel. The way you were folding in on yourself under his gaze, questioning the intent behind it.

“Even before that, love, you’ve not been happy… you don’t do this to people you love” Spike said gently this time, his head to the side as he tried to catch your eye. Your silence was deafening and he wasn’t sure what you needed, but he wanted to help you so desperately. He continued, “Well, I’m not gonna let him have a hold over you like that. I’ll throw him about myself if I have to, I’ll get a hell of a headache but it’d be worth it to see him-”

“That’s okay, Spike, really” You assure him, itching to leave so you weren’t late and disappointing the man waiting for you to come back home.

“Do you want to be with him? Do you want to be scared like this, pet?” He asked, not accusing, just wanting to hear your answer. You paused, thinking it over. Eventually shaking your head, no. You knew it wasn’t right. You had been trying to convince yourself for so long it was a giant breath of relief someone else putting your concerns into words. He was right, you didn’t want this. You wanted love, but not like this.

“You’re coming back with me, to the crypt. I’ll sort you out”

“But he’ll be-”

“Forget that bastard. What do you want?”

“To be loved, Spike” You say, your eyes betraying you now as hot tears started to fall. His eyes widened, he knew the feeling. He knew casting your own happiness aside for the chance of being loved by that one person. He wanted to tell you that there were other people that loved you as you are, without your apology. Without moulding yourself to fit in the way they liked. But his words failed him in the moment. He slowly moved towards you, opening his arms to show you what he was doing to gauge your reaction. Through your tears you nodded and he enveloped you in his arms, cradling your head as you wept. You both stood there for a while, in the warm embrace, you trying to tell yourself not to worry about what he would say if he saw you hugging Spike and Spike badly wanting to take you away from your situation.

Feeling how cared for you were with Spike made you think. This is the type of thing your heart wanted, not the way you were being treated now. You did go to the crypt that night and Spike even offered to get some of your stuff for you, so you didn’t have to go back and face him until you were ready.

Things weren’t okay yet, but maybe there was hope now. You could see it could be good again one day.

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justasparkwritings · 4 years ago

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Codename Cupid: Chapter 8

Previous: Another Shot At Love Pt. 2

Pairing: Min Yoongi X OFC, Park Jimin X OMC

Genre: Secret AgentAU, AgentAU, Government Agent AU, Slice of Life

Rating: NC17

Word Count: 3.5k

Warnings: Swearing, Legal Alcohol Consumption, Degradation, Humiliation, Verbal Abuse, Horrible Family, Bullying, Sibling Rivalries, Homophobia, Toxic Masculinity

Summary: Codename Suga joins Codename Cupid at her parents house for family dinner. It’s both everything he imagined, and so much worse.

Codename Another Shot at Love Part 3

Fall Post Graduation

Park Yoongi, Codename Suga, arrived at the Lee residence dressed to the nines, a new suit, top of the line glasses and Ferragamo loafers that Hoseok had picked out especially for him. Nothing about his look screamed mid-level employee at a top-level bank, or government agent bent on destroying a company from within, which was the point. Namjoon had determined that to impress the Lee’s, Codename Valentine, Suga had to be runway ready. His hair was slicked back, and in his arms, a bottle of Makers 46, a bottle Cupid had ensured her father would appreciate. In his ear, a flesh-colored earpiece, specially designed, allowing his teammates, Codenames RM, Worldwide Handsome and J-Hope, to feed him lines when needed.

Adjusting his spectacles and turning them on, Suga’s vision was momentarily blocked as the sensors began their job scanning everything and everyone insight, transmitting data in real time to his set up at OT7 headquarters. The glasses, a creation he had spent the better part of a year working on, were a modification of his third-generation specs. Not only could they recognize faces, scan for heat sensors, but log sounds such as alarm codes and lock patterns, decoding their passcodes in seconds. This was a marked improvement from the generation twos, which recorded sound and took up to 24 hours to decode. The recorded surveillance was wired through the major databases used by OT7 to track down faces of everyone Suga came in contact with. Tonight, their goal was to memorize every aspect of the Lee’s estate, transmit the layout into a CAD (computer aided design) drawing and print a scaled blueprint. They were also responsible for identifying every human in the Lee’s house, pulling names, birthdays, permanent addresses and social security numbers. In his glasses case, Suga had placed several microscopic microphones, which he placed on any surface he touched. They might not have eyes inside the mansion, but OT7 would have ears.

“Park Yoongi,” The attendant declared as he stepped through the foyer and into the sitting room, where the entire Lee, Codename Valentine, family sat waiting for him.

“Good evening,” Yoongi bowed deeply, a remnant of his heritage and a sign of respect.

“Yoongi!” Euna said, standing and quickly wrapping her arms around his neck. Leaning in, she placed a delicate kiss on his cheek. “Mom, dad, this is Yoongi, my boyfriend.”

Mr. Lee rose, looked Yoongi up and down before he spoke, “I hear you work for us. Good.”

“Yes, sir, I do,” Yoongi nodded.

“Your work is good, you fly under the radar, if you’re to continue this with Euna, you will need to do better,” Mr. Lee extended his hand, shaking Yoongi’s, before moving past him.

“Sir, I brought you a gift, I heard it’s one of your favorites,” Yoongi handed the man the bottle and watched as he unwrapped it. His oafish hands tore through the tissue paper, impatient to get his hands on something he didn’t buy but eagerly wanted.

“Ahh, a bribe, thoughtful,” Mr. Lee said before handing the bottle to the head of house, who had quietly walked into the room. She took it and carefully moved to place it on the shelf which housed an impressive collection of whiskey.

Mrs. Lee looked at her cohort of older children. “Don’t be rude.”

The three children rose and walked towards Yoongi. Towering over him, Dae-Seong and Jun-Seo glared down at him, a sinister smirk on both their faces.

“Dae-Seong,” He said, squeezing Yoongi’s hand harder than necessary.

“Jun-Seo,” He repeated the action, his hold lighter, his smirk faded into a thin line, laced with more concern than Yoongi imagined Dae-Seong could ever muster.

“Yoongi,” Kwan-Min bowed before extending her hand, “Kwan-Min.” Her smile mirrored Euna’s, gentle and vibrant. Her eyes told the same story as her brothers, watch your back.

“Nice to meet you,” Yoongi responded. Carefully taking a seat next to Euna, he smiled tersely at the family.

“Yoongi, tell us about yourself,” Mrs. Lee requested. She slowly clinked the perfectly shaped sphere of ice in her glass, it slowly melting into the brown liquid.

“Is there anything specific you want to know?” He responds politely.

“Your file is thin, you don’t seem to want to advance at Lee Enterprises, so how’d you end up here?” Dae-Seong doesn’t mince words. Much like the booming timbre of his voice, his words cut straight to the point.

“I worked in the Manhattan branch every summer of college, had two internships my junior and senior year, and then applied for an entry level position,” Yoongi could hear Namjoon, Codename RM, in his ear, repeating the fabricated story made ever more real by Hoseok’s ability to forge documents.

“They moved you out here?” Mr. Lee questioned.

“Yes, they asked if I would transfer,” Yoongi replied.

“Why?” Dae-Seong was perplexed, no new hire was asked to transfer unless they were a problem worth handling.

“They said I was polished, and my work was good,” Yoongi shrugged. WWH reminded him to lean into the nonchalance, the ultimate fuck-you attitude the Lee’s hated.

“Seems vague,” Jun-Seo remarked. “Your childhood was rather bleak, wasn’t it?”

“It wasn’t the best, but it was temporary,” Yoongi knew this was the line of questioning they’d take, and not just with him, with anyone not from the upper echelon, anyone not worth less than 100 million.

“Your parents were, sorry, are, quite poor,” Dae-Seong pressed.

“Poor to some is rich to others,” Yoongi answered.

“But poor is still, poor,” Jun-Seo responded.

“You haven’t dated much, either have you Yoongi?” Kwan-Min’s voice was velvet, soft and supple in the tense air.

“I’ve had a few relationships, but none like Euna,” Mr. World Wide’s voice was clear and gentle, sell it Suga.

“What makes her so different? Clearly you see things that we don’t,” Dae-Seong snorted back a laugh, it was a hideous sound, loud and haunting.

“I see a lot of things in Euna. She’s thoughtful, considerate, she’s caring and funny. She accepts me for who I am, and makes me a better person,” Yoongi laid on the compliments like he hadn’t spent the last two weeks rehearsing them for OT7.

It had taken him a while to list the characteristics he liked about Cupid, and ultimately had recruited WWH to write it for him. He stared at the words Mr. Handsome wrote, and was shocked that he still cared this much about her. Yoongi felt none of these things, none of these adjectives or memories that Mr. Handsome had strewn together resonated with him in the slightest. Cupid was a mark, a pawn in the play, nothing more.

“Huh, lucky someone does,” Jun-Seo laughed, ribbing Dae-Seong and leading him in a cackle all their own. Yoongi glanced at Euna to see her jaw set, cheeks flushed, eyes glossed.

“Jun-Seo, you have a guest,” The attendant from the front door announced, standing taught at the door. A blond-haired man entered, smirking with a hint of humor. Yoongi stared at his dazzling smile and kind eyes.

“You made it!” Jun-Seo stood to engulf the man in a hug, lips pressing aggressively to his lips. “I thought you said you were busy.”

“I got away,” The blond responded.

“It’s lovely to see you,” Mrs. Lee stood to embrace the man, followed by Kwan-Min. Yoongi watched carefully as Dae-Seong and Mr. Lee scowled, arms crossed, brows set. They didn’t have to speak their distaste for Jun-Seo’s apparent partner, it was written in their body language.

“It’s lovely to see you too,” He said. His eyes didn’t glance at the elder males but landed squarely on Yoongi and Euna.

“Lee Euna, is that how you greet me?” He questioned, a hand resting on his hip, hair lightly falling in his eyes.

“I’m so happy to see you!” She bounded off the settee towards him, arms around his neck, holding him close. “I didn’t think I’d get to see you before the big trip!”

Yoongi stared, dumbfounded, and blinked quickly, trying to understand the rapid change in her demeanor. Gone were the tears, the anger, the hate that was coursing through her body. It was replaced with care? Genuine excitement? What the hell is the big trip?

“I had to get in one more family dinner before I’m gone for the month,” The blond smiled warmly at Euna, a twinkle in his eye as he glanced at Yoongi. “Is that?”

“Oh! This is my boyfriend, Park Yoongi. Yoongi, meet Jun-Seo’s partner, Cho Jimin,” Euna said. The two men exchanged a handshake before sitting down next to their respective partners.

“How long have you and Jun-Seo been together?” Yoongi inquired.

“Hm, a year?” Jun-Seo replied, a hand resting gently on Jimin’s thigh.

“Did you meet at work or-

“Twenty questions with the twinks! Line em up, it’s time to play!” Dae-Seong yelled, earning a chuckle from his father. “First question, who tops and who bottoms? Follow up, is Jun-Seo as weak of a top as he-

“Dinner is ready,” The head of house said, stepping into the room just in time. Rolling his eyes, Dae-Seong stood.

“You’re gonna need your strength,” He winked at Jimin before brushing past them and heading for the dining room. Yoongi followed obediently and cautiously, taking his time putting one foot in front of the other as he followed the Lee’s. Pausing every so often, he carefully trailed a finger over a surface, leaving a singular mic, completely invisible, behind.

The dining room was stunning, taken out of the palace of Versailles with a Korean twist, the marble floors and ornate chandeliers were out of this world. Flowers blooming in ancient vases, artwork that looked to be that of Picasso and An Kyŏn, Monet and Manet, lining the walls like the Louvre. There wasn’t anything the Lee’s money couldn’t buy, even 15th century originals were bound to become fodder in their quest for prestige.

Draped across the table, a gold runner, glittering with what could only be described as actual gold flakes. Waterford Crystal glasses, and hand painted china rested delicately against the gold, the white shining brilliantly under the lights of the chandelier. Awaiting the guests, an endless array of traditional Korean food: Jjajangmyeon, Bulgogi, Samgyetang, Kalguksu, Galbi, Dubu Kimchi, Kimchi Fried Rice, with bowls of Hobakjuk as everyone’s appetizers, and Gyeranjjim waiting on a refined plate to be consumed with each passing spice.

Yoongi’s eyes were wide, his lungs breathing rapidly to take in the scents of home, of familiarity. How peculiar to be eating the cuisine of his ancestors, of his blood, in a room with people who would willing spill each other’s.

“Yoongi, sit next to Dae-Seong.” Mr. Lee instructed.

Excellent, Namjoon muttered in his ear.

“Dae-Seong, I hear that you’re making quite a splash as the Chairman,” Yoongi voiced.

“Only bottom feeders eat my ass, Yoongi. For that you need to see Jun-Seo, appointment only,” Dae-Seong rolled his eyes.

“Please, do not speak of your brother’s depravity at dinner. Save it for dessert,” Mr. Lee scolded, eyes hard on Dae-Seong.

“When are we going to discuss Kwan-Min’s latest triste?” Jun-Seo inquired.

“Now seems like the perfect opportunity,” Mr. Lee answered. “Dae-Seong?”

In some sort of twisted ritual, Dae-Seong cracked his knuckles, then his neck, swirled a sip of whiskey between his lips and leaned in. Batting his eyes delicately at Kwan, he bared his teeth. Yoongi restrained from asking “you getting this?” to his team, because they were in fact, watching with bated breath.

“The category is, colossal fuck ups. The reining champ, for the first time in, Euna, how old are you? Never mind, age has no number when you’re a twat. Kwan-Min, for a million dollars, explain how you found yourself cunt up with a political fundraiser? I’m sorry, a Republican political fundraiser?”

Mrs. Lee gasped, her soup spoon dropping aggressively into her bowl, rattling the china. Euna didn’t look up, but quietly shoveled soup into her mouth, feigning ignorance.

“Kwan-Min, how could you?” Mrs. Lee demanded.

“If the rumors are true, and we’ll need Jun to confirm, Mr. Brady, I believe?” Dae-Seong inhales, eyes never leaving Kwan’s, voice even, “He’s particularly gifted in a few areas, and very well endowed and what was that other word? Oh yes, generous.”

“Quite a generous tongue on that one,” Jun responded, shame flickering past his eyes in a brief moment before his resolve solidified.

“How could you?” Mrs. Lee repeats again. “You are the second eldest of this family, the face of our philanthropy, and you are consorting with a known republican? Not to mention a man so cruel he, he,

“He thinks Dae-Seong is weak,” Euna spoke. Her wavering voice echoed over the table, everyone’s eyes turning to her. “I mean, that’s what you’re doing, right Kwan? Find someone so repugnant that Dae is outraged, spurring on another break down in hopes he’ll OD and you’ll what, become chairwoman of the board?”

“Fuck you for insinuating I make my decisions based on Dae. Do you live and breathe at his request?” Kwan spat, the heat from the food and the fight rising in her cheeks.

“No,” Euna was incredulous, how could Kwan assume that?

Through gritted teeth she responded, “Neither do I.”

“For two million, Mr. Chairman,” Jun motioned toward Dae, “explain to us how you could be fucking a member of the opposing party, who has tried to ruin this family numerous times? Is the dick that great?” Jun-Seo pressed.

“Don’t pretend that you haven’t fucked him, fag,” Dae laughed. “You two are the biggest whores in the game.”

“That’s not true,”

“The fact that you’re Eskimo siblings, not once, not twice, but have shared more than three sexual partners is revolting. You’re fucking freaks, sodomizing the legacy of this family for some log cabin taint who can’t even be bothered to pay the child support for the kids he knows about.”

“How do you know so many categories of gay men?” Euna asked, eyes narrowing at Dae-Seong, “You been experimenting?”

“Oh, don’t even get me started on you and your choices, Euna,” Dae rolled his eyes then glanced at Jun-Seo, who was sneering at him.

“What could you possibly say that you haven’t before?” Euna cackled, a sound so foreign Yoongi can’t help but feel his eyes bug out.

“Whoa,” Mr. Handsome says in his ear.

“Oh shit,” RM responds.

“You’re not even worth discussing,” Kwan-Min stepped in, and swinging the last of her cocktail back, she turned to Dae-Seong. “I’m more interested in your affinity for homosexual stereotypes. Tell me, when you’re alone in your house, your wife sleeping in a separate apartment, cities away, is that what you’re watching? Is that what gets you off? Picturing a willing gaping hole, just waiting to be ruined? Or no, I’m sorry, but Jun, don’t you think he’d be-

“A power bottom? Absolutely, he spends his nights ogling over submissive bears, trying to find one big enough to fill him, scrolling through chatrooms under, what was his username?” Jun-Seo doesn’t look at Kwan, he knows she understands what is about to transpire.

“Beary-willing007,” They recite together.

J-Hope guffaws in Suga’s ear, followed by a loud “oh shit!”

“I can’t imagine how it would look if your little, what did you call it?” Kwan asked.

“The twink or the fag?” Jun-Seo repeated Dae’s words so seamlessly, so effortlessly, to a blind eye it would’ve been hard to tell that Jun wasn’t Dae’s twin.

“Both, if your nefarious activities and browser history was discovered, or dare a say, leaked?” Kwan raised an eyebrow.

“You think you scare me?” Dae-Seong asked. “Summer, 2012, what happened to you?”

“Why would you bring that up?” Kwan’s glare faltered, a subtle shift in her brow, the sneer dipping before returning at full capacity.

“We need to know what happened summer 12,” RM stated, voice low as he jotted down the date.

“You want to throw dirty laundry out into the open, might as well air yours,”

“Fuck you,”

“I didn’t start this,”

“Yes you did,”

“Jun-Seo, care to tell us what happened to you winter, 2014?”

“No,”

“I thought so,” Dae pointed his knife at each of them, “Before you go accusing me of being a fucking homo, check that I don’t have your history sealed and filed.”

“Did you get that?” RM asked.

“Yeah, got it,” J-Hope responded.

“And Euna,” Dae turned his attention to his youngest sibling, who sat quietly eating her food. “Don’t ever bring a bottom feeder home again, unless he’s going to eat my ass, you hear me? Or I will do to you what was done to Kwan-pussy-ass-Min.”

“Fuck you Dae,” Euna spewed.

“Excuse me?” He yelled, standing to his full height.

“I said, fuck you,” Euna repeated with a little more gumption.

“Oh Euna, little Euna, too smart for everyone, too polite and meek to ever be taken seriously, to fucking boring and oblivious to know that her boyfriend’s only date her for access or career status, so stupid that she can’t recognize that the only reason she’s getting the company is that she’s so incompetent, no one will believe her when –

“Dae-Seong!” Mr. Lee yelled.

“Don’t bring a fucking knife to a gun fight, Euna, I will end you.” He seethed.

“What is your problem with Yoongi? He’s the first man I bring home and you-

“What do you not understand about our family? What do you not understand about the caliber of person we need to be with in order to-

“What, watch porn, order sex workers and pray the gay away?” Euna yelled.

“Watch your tone,” Mr. Valentine said.

“You’re acting like you don’t have secrets, like your marriage is pure and good, it’s not Dae. I don’t blame her for leaving you, anyone with a modicum of sense would see that you are nothing more than a toxic, manipulative, alcoholic coke head, who only has his job because daddy loves him the most.”

“You think your relationship with Yoongi is going to be any different?” Jun-Seo spoke up, deflecting from the rising anger in Dae. “What makes you so special?”

“First, I love him,” Euna responded, earning a scoff and eyeroll from every member of the Lee family. “Second, if he makes it out alive from this dinner with you assholes, then he truly is the most resilient person in the world. Finally,”

“Thank fuck,” Jun-Seo exclaimed.

“Finally, he was raised to be kind and respectful, unlike the four of us,” Euna concluded with a haughty exhale and a glare at her mother.

“Wait – are you sure that’s not just Seokjin in a new suit?” Dae-Seong cackled, nodding at their father who also laughed.

“I hate this family,” Euna rose and tossed her napkin on the floor, a dramatic flair that sent her brothers and father into a fit of laughter.

“You act like you aren’t the ingrown hair on the taint of this family, and I think I speak for all of us when I say that I would love to extract you,” Dae said.

His words hung in the air as Euna walked out of the living room, Yoongi on her tail.

Catching up to her, Yoongi reached for her hand, which she hastily pulled away.

“Euna,” His voice was measured.

“Can we please just go?” She whispered, tears beginning to stream down her face.

“Yeah, can I just run to the bathroom quick? Grab the coats and I’ll meet you outside,” He pressed a kiss to her forehead before following one of the workers to the nearest bathroom. Hoping to shake the worker, Yoongi deftly exited the bathroom before wandering down the hall. He followed the sound of voices and stopped short of what he assumed was Mr. Lee’s office.

Mr. Lee stood next to Dae-Seong, a fresh glass of whiskey in hand. “Did you read the brief on UAE?”

“Yes,” Dae-Seong answered.

“I want your recommendations tomorrow by 9AM,” Mr. Lee instructed, “None of that pussy shit you drew up for Spain, either.”

“Pussy shit in Spain is child’s play in the Emirates. I’ll bring something, nuclear,”

“Don’t jerk me around like you do with your pathetic excuse for a cock, Dae. I do not want to have to fire you and replace you with Jun-Seo,” Mr. Lee slammed his glass down before retreating through a door Yoongi hadn’t seen when he’d glanced in.

“I’m sorry father, I will have the materials ready,” Dae’s voice was pathetic, deflated in the wake of his father’s anger. He hated being belittled and demeaned, hated the hurt his father hurled at him, the constant need for him to be better than everyone else. He hated how easily it came to Euna, how she could understand the numbers and draw connections within seconds of being presented with the problem. He hated Euna’s prowess, how businessmen and women flocked to her, a cello prodigy, ballet star in training, perfect grades, whored out to different branches so she could learn the business. Every fuck up Dae-Seong had made resulted in Euna’s success, and their father and mother, though more covertly, had egged his jealousy on.

Yoongi placed a mic on the inside of the door before slipping back into the hallway and out of the Lee estate, to Euna’s embrace.

“Your place or mine?” He asked as he sat in the driver’s seat of his car.

“Anywhere but here,” She responded, eyes blinking down tears as Yoongi drove.

Next: Searching for Seokjin Pt. 2

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coyotesongwriting · 5 years ago

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Damned - Ch. 1

Avengers - Bucky Barnes/Reader

Chapter 1 - Baghdad

Story Summary: When your mission goes sideways and you find yourself locked up through a case of mistaken identity, you don’t see how things could get much worse. Until you find you have no way to contact the team or even let them know you’re alive. One disaster after another leaves you facing a series of impossible situations, and your very life hangs in the balance. Will Bucky find you in time or are you Damned?

Series Warnings: Abuse, Torture, Murder, Death, Graphic Descriptions Of Violence, Death Row, Jail, Assault, Threats of Sexual Assault, Abuse of Power, PTSD

Word Count: 3588

Author’s Note: I hope you enjoy this one! It’s going to be a darker fic, and I can’t promise that there’s going to be a happy ever after for this one. In fact, the ending of this fic is up to you guys! If you want your vote to be counted on whether or not there is a happy ending, go to this post and cast your vote.

Disclaimer: I don’t own the characters so don’t sue me please. I just really like them haha

Series Masterlist

The best part of being home was waking up pressed against Bucky’s chest. In the mornings after you two were finally reunited after a long mission, you’d wake up facing each other, your face buried in his chest. The two of you would usually stay up late on those nights, unwilling to look away as you memorized the other’s face. Your missions could keep you away for months, and since your assignments left you so deep undercover most of SHIELD didn’t know you existed, the two of you could often go weeks without getting to exchange a phone call or even texts. No matter how long the distance, the two of you always seemed to make it work though and you’d been together for four years now.

The worst times were when you’d return from a long mission only to find Bucky had been sent on his own assignment. Unfortunately, it was beginning to feel like Fury was against the two of you. You’d come back from a two-month mission in Japan to find Bucky was in the middle of an assignment in Peru. By the time he was coming home three weeks later, you already had your orders for your next mission in Baghdad. This next one was going to be a tough mission, you’d be going completely undercover with no one but your partners, Maya and Kevin, to have your back and you’d be out of contact with everyone for the duration of the mission. If things went right, you’d be home in 9 weeks, tops.

Bucky’s soft moan drew you back to the present as he brushed a gentle kiss to your forehead. He was always soft and gentle in the quiet mornings before the day started. The early morning sunlight danced across his face, lighting up his gorgeous eyes. God, he always looked so gorgeous in the morning light, not that he wasn’t always handsome but these moments where it was all softness were your favorite.

You let out a quiet hum as you leaned up, capturing his lips in yours. His warm hand slowly began to run down your side, and you let out a breathless chuckle as he rolled onto his back, pulling you on top of him. Your fingers tangled in his hair as his hand rested on your hip, but before things could go much farther your stomach let out a harsh growl.

Bucky had finally come home yesterday and after catching up with the rest of the team, you’d retreated to the room you shared. You’d stayed in your room all night, not leaving for anything - not even to eat dinner and it seemed like your stomach wasn’t a big fan of that decision. He laughed as you groaned in frustration, throwing your head back.

“Come on, Doll. Let’s get some food in you.”

“Bucky” you whined dramatically, “Can’t we stay in bed a little longer?”

“I wish we could, but did you hear your stomach? I don’t want you waking the whole tower.”

You shot him a playful glare, smacking his shoulder as you rolled off of him to lay on your back by him, “It wasn’t that loud, jerk”

“Whatever you say. Now come on. Fury will kill me if I let you leave without eating.”

You threw your arm over your eyes, “Don’t remind me. I can’t believe we don’t even get 24 hours this time.”

“I know. I was going to wait until after breakfast to tell you this but… I told Fury that when you get back from this mission I’m taking a month off and if he doesn’t like it? I don’t care.”

Your eyes lit up and you quickly moved to look at him, “Really?”

He nodded but before he could speak you’d leaned forward, crashing your lips against his. His hand found its way back to your body and your hands tangled in his hair. You never made it to breakfast, or out of the room at all until it was time to leave. In the end, you didn’t even have time to grab something from the kitchen, already running late.

“Really [Y/N]?” Maya laughed, throwing a brown paper bag at you as you stepped onto the Quinjet.

“Do you own a clock [Y/L/N]? We were supposed to be in the air 15 minutes ago.” Maria sighed, quickly finishing the pre-flight checklist and getting the jet into the air.

You were taking the Quinjet over to Ohio, and then you’d take a car down to Houston where you’d fly out from. Bucky had tried to convince Fury to let him fly it back, but Fury had wanted no part in that plan so instead, Maria was tasked with accompanying you two as far as Ohio.

“Sorry, got a bit held up” you smirked, opening the bag Maya had thrown to find a sandwich and chips. Maya knew you so well. You set the bag down for a moment, and curled your hands into the shape of a heart, mouthing ‘I love you’ before you began to dig in.

“Sure you did. Long night?” Maya winked, tossing her mousey brown hair over her shoulder. She’d been talking about chopping it off for a while now, but then Fury had told you about this mission and she’d been forced to wait until after unless she wanted to deal with a wig - her least favorite thing. All she’d talked about lately was finally getting to chop it off and rock a pixie cut.

“And morning.” you chuckled, quickly meeting her high five.

Maya had been your best friend since middle school when you’d both been sent to the same group home, and you’d quickly become joined at the hip. Maya had been abandoned as a newborn and had nothing from her birth family, even her name had been given to her by her caseworker. No home ever come for her and instead, she’d spent years bouncing from foster home to foster home. You’d never known your father, and when your mom died of a drug overdose you’d ended up in the system with her.

Luckily, you’d stayed at the same group home for a few years, and when you were removed from there due to overcrowding, your caseworker had managed to find a foster home who would take you both. As far as the rest of the world was concerned the two of you were sisters, and even the others had quickly learned not to try and argue otherwise.

You’d been there for each other through everything, from your first heartbreaks to when Maya was struggling with her sexuality. She’d eventually come to the conclusion that she was bisexual, and when your foster home tried to say that wasn’t a real thing, well, you’d managed to get kicked out for threatening to beat them up if they didn’t leave her alone. You’d ended up separated for a few months that time until your caseworkers could find a new home who would take both of you. After that, you’d both vowed to never be separated again, and you’d kept true to that.

When you turned 18, you both went off to a local college, working full-time jobs to afford your degrees. You ended up getting your bachelor’s in Criminal Justice, and Maya got a bachelor’s in Computer Science. You’d both decided to minor in Russian. By the time you’d graduated, you were both slightly obsessed with the idea of becoming spies and had enlisted in SHIELD. It hadn’t taken the two of you long to rise through the ranks, and you’d quickly caught Fury’s attention.

He’d begun placing you on harder and more secretive missions until he’d finally made the decision to have you work directly under him. Since neither of you had families, your deaths had been faked and new identities with no connection to SHIELD had been forged. For safety’s sake, you both had codes and fake names for the SHIELD emergency lines so you could get through if you needed help, but they were for extreme emergency use only.

The flight to Ohio passed quickly, you and Maya trading playful barbs about your relationships. She’d started dating this sweet girl at the coffee shop down the road, and for the first time, you’d actually approved of Maya’s relationship. Maya had the unfortunate penchant for picking the worst people, but this girl seemed perfect for her and you couldn’t wait to see where things went next for the two of them. Honestly, it wouldn’t surprise you if they ended up married someday.

When you arrived in Houston, Kevin was waiting for you. Kevin was one of your least favorite people you’d ever met. An arrogant prick was putting it nicely and he always gave you bad vibes whenever he was around, but he was good at his job. Kevin was a professional driver and an amazing translator, one of the best in the business, he had never been in a situation he couldn’t get his way out of. He was fluent in more languages than you’d even heard of, so on this trip, he’d be helping out with any translation or getaways that you required.

~~~~~

“Miss Allen? The car is here.”

You looked up from the book you’d been pretending to read to glance at Maya as she spoke. Her hair was pulled up into a tight bun, her hazel eyes scanning the busy hotel lobby. In her long pencil skirt and long-sleeved button-up, she looked every bit the respectable assistant. Of course, her clothing hid the knives that covered her body. She carried a gun or two at all times for safety’s sake, but she much preferred getting hands-on with a blade so she usually carried at least 5 different blades.

“Thank you, Annie” you smiled politely at Maya and ignored the short glare she shot your way, knowing just how much she hated her fake name this time around. There’d been an awful bully in one of the foster homes named Annie, so Maya was pretty displeased when Maria gave her that identity. You’d already been in Baghdad for six weeks, so if everything went as planned today she’d be done with the name in another week or two.

Fury had received information that SHIELD weapons were being sold illegally and had needed someone to investigate, but since SHIELD was involved he had to be very careful who he put on the mission. No one at SHIELD knew you and Maya existed except for Maria Hill and Fury, so you two were the obvious pick.

The two of you walked to the car in silence, it was time to head to your meeting with Mr. Bahar who was selling the weapons. On this mission you were a businesswoman from Canada who ran a small agency responsible for the safety of celebrities abroad, come to buy some weapons and Maya was acting as your personal assistant.

The ride passed quickly, neither of you wanting to speak too freely in front of Kevin. He’d never been outright rude towards either of you, he merely liked to think he was God’s gift to the world and so that made him a miserable conversation partner. Thankfully, it was only a short ride to Mr. Bahar’s home where you hoped the deal would finally be sealed. As soon as he sold you the weapons, you could begin tracing them back to where he was getting them, and then you could just do some clean up before heading home.

Home. You couldn’t wait to have one month with Bucky, no missions, no trips, just the two of you getting to finally be together. This would be the longest time you’d get to spend together in one stretch in almost two years and the thought of it had you wanting to race home now. Hopefully, the mission would continue to go smooth, and you’d be back in his arms within two weeks.

Mr. Bahar was there to greet you as you climbed out of the car in the courtyard of his home. Bahar had signaled for Kevin to stay behind with the vehicle, but you’d quickly explained he was your translator and Mr. Bahar had frowned slightly but had waved him along as well. You and Bahar exchanged polite small talk as he led you through his home.

Bahar’s guards were everywhere, and you quickly began to count, memorizing their faces and stations as you headed in. His house was large, and the office he led you to was very carefully decorated. From the set up of the room and lack of any computer, you immediately knew this office was merely a decoy, not the place where he truly got his work done. Maya took a seat next to you on the couch while Kevin stood behind you, his face unreadable.

The meeting was boring, long ago the standard illegal weapon purchases had become so commonplace you could just about handle them with your eyes closed. Everything went according to plan, a price and delivery location finally agreed on. You slipped a bug into the couch as you headed out of the office. When the time to leave was drawing near, Maya asked if she could use the restroom. When they pointed her down the right hallway, she slipped off to go plant some more bugs throughout the house and find the real office.

The minutes ticked by as you made more small talk with Bahar, regaling him with tales of your favorite soccer games. It had been too long. Maya should have been back by now, and Bahar was beginning to grow suspicious. You could see the wariness in his eyes as he began to study you and Kevin, and you opened your mouth, preparing to offer an excuse for her absence. Before you could say a word, gunshots rang out through the courtyard. You and Kevin dove to take shelter in an alcove on the side of the home.

Bahar’s guards shoved him towards their SUV, but before they made it even a few feet they were gunned down, collapsing onto the sand at his feet. Bahar turned to you, his eyes wild with panic as he began to race towards you. He didn’t even take two steps before another shot echoed and the back of his head seemed to explode. He fell, his vacant eyes staring up at you as blood seeped out the gunshot in his forehead.

“We need to get Maya” you growled to Kevin, drawing your favorite pistol from its holster.

Kevin didn’t say a word, merely nodding his head as you lead the way carefully towards the side door a few feet to your left. Your heart pounded as adrenaline coursed through your veins, you couldn’t see the shooters on the roof, they were on the building directly above you and you could only pray they didn’t see you. The stars seemed to be on your side as you both managed to slip through the door before the sand exploded behind you with a missed shot.

The hallway you’d slipped into was thankfully deserted, and you nodded your head towards the archway on the left. Kevin didn’t argue, merely nodded his head and pulled his gun, heading off on his own as you headed right. He may be an ass, but he was good at his job and he would do everything in his power to find Maya, of that you could at least be certain.

You slipped down hall after hall, rounding corners quickly. The building was deadly silent, the quiet only broken by the occasional crack of a gunshot and you found yourself praying that it wasn’t your team getting shot. Your ears strained, searching for any sounds, a whimper of pain or the slow thud of footsteps to give you any clue as to what was going on.

The creak of a door to your left gave you just enough to move before the vase behind you shattered into a million pieces, the ceramic raining down to the floor with a loud clatter. You whirled to face your attacker, the shot ripping from your gun as you squeezed the trigger. The man didn’t stand a chance, the bullet piercing his eye and he crumpled to the ground.

You didn’t even spare him a second glance as you rounded the corner and came face to face with a heavy wooden door. You pushed the door open and the door fought back, something had fallen against the door and you struggled to get it open enough for you to slip through. You didn’t look at what it was until you were in the room, and once you did you felt the air fly from your lungs as your knees slammed into the cool marble floor.

Time stopped as lifeless hazel eyes stared up at the ceiling and a whimper tore itself from your throat as you studied Maya. You were frozen, unable to move for the longest time as you studied her. She lay in a pool of blood, her pale yellow shirt stained with the vibrant red. You could see the hole in her shirt, directly over her heart and knew that her death had been instant. The stillness that had overcome you was broken, and you set your gun down, scooping Maya’s body up in your arms and clutching her to your chest.

Thoughts began to race through your head, memories of everything you’d been through flying past and the promises you’d yet to fulfill seemed to fill your mind. She’d never get her happily ever after, she’d never get to go to the bar with you again. You’d never stay up late with her talking about love and loss and she’d never help you prank Bucky again. Realizations of everything lost in that one gunshot were all that it took to leave you sobbing, all memories of the warzone outside the door forgotten as you held your dead sister.

Her head lolled back in your grasp and you pulled her tighter to you, not even noticing the red that began to sink into your own clothing. You didn’t notice the door opening, didn’t register the hand on your shoulder until they tried to pull you back away from her. You shrugged out of their grasp, not even looking at them, not caring.

“We need to go. They’re killing everyone they find” Kevin’s voice was soft but determined.

You barely heard him speak. It was like being underwater, his voice muffled and distant. You were too lost in your thoughts, too lost in the memories to care. After everything you’d faced with Maya, with every battle you’d won and fight you’d lost, a mission as simple as this should never have been her downfall. Kevin’s hand squeezed your shoulder, and his repeated calls of your real name finally seemed to pull you out, and you realized for the first time that the low keening you’d been hearing was you.

“[Y/N]. We have to go. Now” Kevin tried to pull you away again.

You shot him a death glare, your voice breaking as you spoke, “No. I’m not, I’m not leaving her.”

“Maya wouldn’t want you to die too,” he growled. Footsteps were drawing near, and you were supposed to be in charge.

He swept your pistol up from the ground and began to pull you away from her body. You fought him, struggling to remain with her, only giving up once he slid your pistol back into your hand. Kevin had locked the door and as the door handle began to jiggle, he pulled you from the room through the window.

You managed to spare one last glance behind at Maya’s body, her head had fallen facing the window when Kevin had pulled you away, and her gaze seemed to be locked onto you. After a long moment, you tore your eyes from hers, wiping the tears from your eyes as Kevin pulled you towards the car. Dust began to rise in the air from the tires as you sped away, leaving Maya lying alone on the floor.

~~Five Days Later~~

“You wanted to see us?” Bucky asked, taking a seat at the conference room table, the last one in like always.

The whole team had gathered, and Fury stood at the head of the table. His face was unreadable as always, but there was an unexpected tension in the room and Bucky began to grow impatient, tapping his fingers methodically on the coffee mug in his hands when Fury didn’t speak right away.

Fury’s voice was steady as he spoke, “Five days ago, [Y/N]’s team went for a meeting with a man suspected of selling SHIELD weapons to anyone with the money. We lost all contact with the team after a shootout.” Bucky sat up ramrod straight, his heart beginning to race as Fury continued, “Unfortunately, we can now confirm that Maya was killed in the fight. We identified her body this morning. Kevin and [Y/N] are missing, and we have been unable to find or contact them. We’re doing our best.”

Silence fell over the room, everyone afraid to be the first to speak. No one wanted to be the one to ask if you were dead if they Fury thought there was even a chance you were still alive. A loud crash broke the silence as the mug in Bucky’s hand shattered, coffee spilling all over the table.

Find This Story On AO3

~~~~

Taglist: @he-is-chaotic-she-is-psychotic @queenoftheunderdark@redfoxwritesstuff @brokenthelovely @collinsstanharbour @samsgoddess @imma-new-soul @firefly-in-darkness @wolfiegal98 @brynnloh

#bucky barnes x reader #Bucky Barnes #Winter Soldier #winter soldier x reader #Fanfic #Marvel The Avengers #Marvel's The Avengers #marvels the avengers #Marvel's Avengers #marvel #Avengers #The Avengers #reader insert

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missmentelle · 6 years ago

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Your partner’s mental illness is not an excuse for them to mistreat you.

Anxiety is not an excuse to look through your phone every night.

Borderline personality disorder is not an excuse to constantly accuse you of cheating.

Bipolar disorder is not an excuse to threaten suicide if you leave them.

Depression is not an excuse to drain you financially for years on end.

PTSD is not an excuse to hit you.

Social anxiety is not an excuse to make you cut off contact with your friends.

OCD is not an excuse to make you constantly prove where you are.

Anger issues are not an excuse to break your belongings.

A lot of the people who come to me for advice about obviously abusive relationships will tell me something along the lines of “my partner is mentally ill, so I can’t break up with them over this”. Mental illness is not a “get out of being a good partner FREE” card. This is not a court of law - there is no “insanity defense” when it comes to relationships. Mistreatment is never okay. Period. It doesn’t matter how the behaviour is being justified - it’s not acceptable, and it has to stop.

Mentally ill people are not children. They are not helpless. They did not ask to be mentally ill and their conditions are not their fault, but that doesn’t mean they get to have different expectations than everybody else. Mentally ill partners may need extra support from time to time, but they do not have a blank check to abuse you or make your life miserable. If your partner has a mental illness, then they also have a responsibility to manage that mental illness and step away if they aren’t able to keep their symptoms under control. That’s not an unreasonable thing to ask for.

It’s also important to remember that the vast majority of people with mental illnesses are able to manage their conditions successfully, access outside help whenever they need it, and they never, ever mistreat their partners. Your partner does not get to be the exception. In most relationships, mentally ill people are actually more likely to be the victims than the aggressors, and claims that your partner has to treat you this way because of their illness are pretty flimsy. If your partner tells you that a healthy relationship is impossible for them because of their condition, they are either full of shit, or they are in no condition to be dating. “I mistreat you because I’m mentally ill” is more often than not an excuse to garner sympathy, and to let abusers avoid taking responsibility for their own actions. The diagnosis - if there really is one - becomes a crutch that the abuser leans on as hard as they can to feel justified in the way they treat you.

Even if your partner is really, truly working as hard as they can to control their mental illness, if they are mistreating you, you still have a right to decide that this isn’t a healthy situation and that you need to leave. You don’t owe anybody your mental health or safety, ever. For any reason. Even if you love someone dearly and you’re their main source of support, you have no obligation to stay in a relationship that is slowly grinding you into the dust. Best case scenario, you slowly become their frustrated parent. Worst case scenario, you slowly become their unwilling hostage. Sometimes the best thing you can do for someone is to leave an unhealthy relationship with them, and let them rely on professionals to get them through.

I loved my ex-partner with every fibre of my being, but I could not be in a relationship with someone who had delusions and intense abandonment issues and refused to get help; neither of us benefited from being in a relationship where he constantly woke me up in the middle of the night to frantically ask if I was cheating on him. Leaving him was incredibly hard on both of us. It was also the best thing I could have done. I was able to follow my dreams and find a truly healthy relationship, and he finally had no one else to turn to but a psychiatrist, who got him on the medication he needed. Life is short, and your mental health is precious - you don’t owe either your time or your energy to someone who can’t give you a healthy relationship, no matter why that’s the case.

Mental illness is not an excuse to abuse.

#missmentelle #askmissmentelle #mental health #mental illness #mental disorder #depression #anxiety #relationships #relationship tips #relationship advice #relationship

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chinarsi · 5 years ago

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( DACRE MONTGOMERY + HE/HIM ) — Hey, were you just talking to ANTONELLO LUCCHESE ? The THIRTY year old is a STRIP CLUB OWNER/UNDERBOSS who resides in MANHATTAN. HE has been living in NYC for TWENTY-SIX YEARS, and is known to be EFFICIENT and AFFECTIONATE, but can also be IMPULSIVE and PERVERTED. Word on the street is they’ve got some heavy ties with THE GUERRAS so I’d steer clear if you know what’s good for you.

**TW: **implied attempted murder, child abuse, abandonment; mental illness mention

First name: Antonello

Middle name(s): Giuseppe / “Pinky”

Surname: Lucchese

Age: 30

Date of birth: November 19, 1990

Religious values: Raised Roman Catholic but considers himself agnostic and a vitalist

Location: Spanish Harlem, Manhattan, New York

Occupation and length of time: Underboss/Strip club owner, 15 years

Affiliation: Guerra

Sexuality: Heterosexual

Relationship status: Divorced

Nationality: Considers himself Italian American ( fathers’ side is from Palermo, Sicily, mothers’ side is from Eastern Germany )

Languages known: English, Italian, German, Russian

Style of speaking: Politically incorrect

Birth Country: United States

Hometown: Crown Heights, Brooklyn

Parents: Bill and Teresa Lucchese

Siblings: Amy Lucchese

Pets: Amethystine python, Jinn, and an albino boa constrictor, Rasputin

Height: 5'11

Weight: 183 lbs

Eye color: Light blue

Hair color: Dark brown

Build of body: Stocky, muscular, aka a brickshit house

Tattoos: None

Piercings: Earlobe

Typical clothing: Business casual to very casual, button-downs/linen pants and vintage suits (*Three Looks by Jenna Marbles plays quietly in the background*)

Personality: “ Did you guys come by ? “ ( Ends at 8:32 ; it’s worth the watch, I swear lmao )

“ Como se dice ? How you say what happing ? whA HAPPING HEA. ” ( Starts at 2:52, ends at 11:36 )

Likes: Winning, music, Friedrich Nietzsche, indulgence, working out, and reading

Dislikes: Birds, uncertainty, technology, anything grape flavored, waiting, swimming in open water/the ocean, drama, younger generations

Pet peeves: Being ignored or interrupted, knuckle cracking, people eating with their mouths open

Hobbies/past times: Running, swimming, cooking, fencing, journaling, marksmanship, knife throwing, reading, avid glass collector and tobacco aficionado

Guilty pleasures: An old soul; loves red wine, Telenovelas, listening to either Nina Simone or Amy Winehouse, and pain

Talents: Can play piano, coronet, drums, braid hair and relocate an entire family in less than 48 hours

Education: Highschool dropout

Fears: Heights, dying alone, being asked to go to Italy

Goals: Settle the family dispute and to keep his ex-wife in the dark about what he does

General attitude: Quiet, reserved, snarky

General intelligence: Somewhat above average

General sociability: Average to below average

Illnesses (if any): Traumatized, most likely very depressed, bat shit crazy and probably a bit of a sociopath, but views seeing a Dr./Therapist is just as dangerous as becoming an informant.

Allergies (if any): Cats, amoxicillin/penicillin

Sleeping habits: Sleeps 3-4 hours normally, gets up early and stays up late, is sometimes up for days

Energy level: Depends on the day, could be moderate, low and very rarely high

Eating habits: Eats more than three times a day, mostly pasta, meat, bread, and sweets

Memory: Fair and remembers faces well but tends to repress quite a bit from his life/childhood, under certain circumstances it is poor

Any unhealthy habits: Overspending, binge eating, smoking, not getting enough rest, binge drinking, uses recreational drugs daily

Peaceful or violent: Unpredictable

Weapon (if applicable): Gun, golf club, curling iron, hands

Favorite types of food: Anything you put in front of him

Favorite types of drink: Water, wine and Ski soda

Favorite colors: Black, earth and neutral tones

Favorite types of music: 1. 2. 3.

Hobbies/past times: Running, swimming, cooking, fencing, journaling, marksmanship, knife throwing, reading, avid glass collector and tobacco aficionado

Guilty pleasures: An old soul; loves red wine, Telenovelas, listening to either Nina Simone or Amy Winehouse, and pain

Strengths: Efficient, passionate, observant, protective, loyal, brave, affectionate, poised, fair, chivalrous, playful, honest, romantic

Weaknesses: Intolerant, childish, negative, stubborn, short-tempered, impatient, perverted, aggressive, blunt, reclusive, paranoid, impulsive, secretive

Wcs: His ex wife, house mom/house dad/business partner, fwb, old friends, regular/associate turned bff, rival that manages to win & screw him over, fwbs that get involved/find out about his double life and are put in danger

Quirks/facts:

* Nicknamed “pinky” by a small group of friends when his now ex-wife found out he spent his life savings on a strip club and attempted to sever his pinky finger with a pair of thinning shears, also due to the simple fact, he never leaves the house without his grandfather’s gold teamster pinky ring placed on that exact finger

* In most situations he’s the extremely respectful, strong and silent type

* Extremely quick to anger, doesn’t take much to aggravate and provoke him, but he can also be an unpredictably warm, affectionate, goofy individual

* Agnostic and believes you should indulge in all of your desires but always in gentle moderation

* Has a machivelian yet moral mindset

* His respect for women knows no bounds

* Has a really loud sneeze and goes into sneeze fits

* Brutally honest

* Likes to go on late night/early morning shopping trips

* Gets too emotionally attached to people that shouldn’t matter

* Always carries a tiny notebook with him

* No shame in his game but cautious, composed, and always aware of his surroundings

* Has to move things around in a certain pattern before going to sleep

* Experienced alot but tends to keep to himself, there’s very few people that actually know him

* Bruises super easily

* Writes and eats with his left hand but is right hand dominant

* Likes to memorize numbers instead of saving contacts in his phone

* Gets homesick very easily

* Brushes his teeth up to five times a day

* Generous with his money, purely for selfish and superstitious reasons, but only for close friends and associates

* Likes to stay off social media

* Gets his heart broken too often

* Holds grudges like no other

* Will be loyal to the mob until he takes his last breath and would rather die than be forced to send anyone to prison

* Firmly believes in the healing power of sit-downs

* Would never take advantage of a drunk woman, but defintely would get drunk just to get taken advantage of

* Don’t fuck around though, has high libido and occasionally low stamina; a wrong look alone could get you pregnant

* Sanctioned hits directly from the boss have always made him uncomfortable and nervous, no matter who he’s working under

* Takes murder very seriously

Bio: Antonello Guiseppe Lucchese was born three months prematurely to Bill and Teressa on a chilly November night in Brooklyn, New York.

He doesn’t remember much from his childhood other than he never really had a mother and father, but figures he might have gotten luckier not having them around. Apparently, his mother worked numerous jobs to keep a roof over their heads for years, until dealing with the constant absence of his father became too much to bear. Then, at just the fragile age of three and four years old, both Amy and Antonello Lucchese were carted off to Crown Heights, New York to permanently stay with a mixed family of uncles, cousins, and loving grandparents, almost all the surviving members of the Lucchese crime family in a small three-bedroom apartment.

Most of their wives had passed away or left them by the time they’d arrived, so it was a lot like growing up in a dingy old bar but, both children grew up and learned quickly from their mistakes. Learned to use them to their advantage, but every once in a while there would be unnecessary punishments, overdramatic arguments, dinners missed and uneasy, awkward mornings, but. It was more than what anyone else could have given them, so they were grateful nonetheless.

Everything changed drastically for Antonello when he entered the fifth grade. Things became easier to deal with at home, but not exactly in the way anyone had expected. Especially not his grandmother. He’d always clung to her for guidance, support, and love but the moment the family exposed the young heart to their lifestyle, he broke away and heedlessly dove in.

No one had forced him into anything, but as the years passed, most relatives and himself included were absolutely convinced that he was made for it, and it was made for him. Although it was in his blood, after all, a large number of them also knew it marked the end of his innocence, and the beginning of ruthless trek towards a twisted, egotistical version of manhood and success.

In the span of six years, he’d become the youngest in the family to rise through the ranks in a proud, composed fashion and landed a spot right beneath his grandfather. He was creative, intelligent and respectful in a way that the elders of the Italian mob began to appreciate more than the efforts of his own immediate family, so soon after Antonello realized the long list of dead or incarcerated relatives were mostly rats, scumbags, and hypocrites, coincidentally, he was asked to leave.

Then while out at the local bowling alley, his cousins spotted one of his better friends groping his girlfriend. He didn’t even make it twenty-four hours after his grandmother had broken the news of the heartless eviction, and the younger boy spent almost two weeks in the hospital. Luckily, her grandson wasn’t around long enough to suffer any harsh consequences, or god forbid a life sentence but, one punishment that should have been totally unrelated, would slowly begin to ruin his life.

Out of pure fear of her older brother and grandparents, Amy Lucchese decided to finish her high school career at home and cut all ties with him. Shortly after the devastating blow, a family friend was contacted and made arrangments for him to stay in East Harlem.

Present: Has resided in East Harlem for the past fifteen years, staying moderately silent and unlocatable until being promoted to underboss. Currently works for the Guerra family, laundering money and holding meetings through his own business until the doors open every evening. He is recently divorced, lives alone above an old pizza joint and prefers a conventional lifestyle even though he loves what he does.

Although Show N' Tail opened in 2017, the wide variety of male and female dancers, elaborate drag shows, light shows, warm and cozy atmosphere, has made it one of the most decadent and revered clubs in the area.

#( about. )#tw

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nashbashwithshells-blog · 6 years ago

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God, people can suck. Like really suck.

When I look back at the beginning of that relationship, I see this 20-year-old girl lost in the midst of college. Moving into my first apartment, trying to figure out what I wanted my life to look like and probably developing some questionable drinking habits. I was young, never been in a “real” relationship, naive, and definitely a people-pleaser. On top of that, I had this very college-girl mindset that I had to be an adult and prepare for life after graduation and find a guy and find a job and get married, the whole nine yards. Looking back on it now, it’s like shit. Everything really was set up so perfectly for him.

The beginning of the relationship wasn’t anything out of the ordinary. In fact, I would say it was pretty great. We started dating right before the summer between our junior and senior year. I remember how excited I was when he asked me to be his girlfriend. I could barely contain myself. I spent at least every other weekend out at his house in Holly, Michigan through that first summer. We went to the Detroit Zoo, we went to cute little diners for dates, we took walks together, we went on day trips to Frankfurt, Michigan, and when we couldn’t see each other, we’d talk on the phone for hours and send each other stupid gifs back and forth all day. It was like it was out of a storybook and yea, I was pretty happy.

But when we moved back to college for our senior year, it was like things slowly, slowly started to change. The first sign of an abusive relationship is isolation. The abusive partner starts to isolate the other to keep them from confiding in friends and family about the abuse. I mean, it’s not like he woke up on day and said “Alright, so this is the part of the relationship where I isolate you from your family and friends so I’m gonna need you to cut off all contact with anyone other than me and my friends.” Instead, it was a very gradual process over the course of time. In fact, it happened so slowly that I didn’t even notice it was happening right before my eyes. It started with me spending almost every single night at his house instead of my apartment. This then started to affect my relationship with my roommate, who I now never saw. Next, it became my friends. Each friend he had a perfectly orchestrated reason or lie as to why I could no longer hang out with them. Sometimes it was “She’s not your real friend if she doesn’t approve of me.” Other times it was “I heard her say she doesn’t want to hang out with you anymore in class today.” Each one, I believed. Why wouldn’t I believe him? He had never betrayed my trust before. This was the same guy that wrote those thoughtful cards on my birthday and on Valentine’s day and the same guy that surprised me with a cute dinner date after my midterm exam. He was just looking out for me, right? The funny thing about this part of the relationship was that I was 100% allowed to spend time with his friends and the people in his friend group. He had already tricked them into thinking that he was this charming, loving friend of theirs and he knew that if I ever spoke up to one of them, they likely wouldn’t believe me (which I later found to be true). Even when he would yell at me in his bedroom while our friends were downstairs or he would publicly degrade me and belittle me in front of his friends, they would brush it off as just “Josh being Josh.”

This is also kind of when things started to get messy in bed too. This guy wanted to have sex almost every night. I mean, at least four nights a week. Let me be clear here: he never brutally raped or used physical force in bed with me. But he also made it very clear to me that it was not okay for me to say “no.” This is when I first started to see the aggressive side of him that I became so painfully familiar with in the following months. If I said no to sex, he became furious and would spend the remainder of the night accusing me not finding him attractive and blamed me for his insecurities and degrade me in front of his friends for saying no to him. He would go on for days if he had to until I would finally give in. The message became crystal clear to me. If I said no to him, I would pay for it and so I quickly learned that this just wasn’t an option. Or sometimes if I said no to him as he tried to start things with me or even right before we were about to have sex, he would pretend he didn’t hear me or just completely disregard the comment. When I look back on this, I just feel this intense level of discomfort take over my entire body. I can feel it in my toes, in my chest, in my thighs, in my stomach. God, it just sucks. So anyways, back to the isolation part.

Then, it came my family. This one was definitely the hardest for him and this is where a lot of the controlling part of this relationship comes into play too, so buckle up. My grandpa died in February so the beginning of our second semester of senior year. Talk about poor timing, right? You see, my grandma had made it very clear that she didn’t want any of the grandchildren’s significant other’s to attend my grandpa’s funeral and we were all pretty much in agreement to this. None of them had even met my grandpa, so why would they drive all the way out to St. Clair, MI to attend his funeral? Well, Josh certainly didn’t agree with this. He completely twisted it around that my family didn’t want him in their lives and they weren’t welcoming him into the family. Josh very quickly made it known that I wasn’t allowed to see my family unless he told me I could. From here on out, he always had a say in when I saw my family and for how long I saw my family. I even remember one instance about a month or two after my grandpa’s funeral that he told me I couldn’t go home to see my family. My family and I had planned a fun weekend together filled with going out to dinner, going to the movies, spending time together, and even going to a basketball game. It was going to be the first time together as a family since my grandpa’s funeral and likely one of the last time together before I made the move to Nashville after graduation. The point is, this weekend meant a lot to me and he knew that. So naturally, he took it away. I remember sitting on his bed in tears as he yelled at me for wanting to leave him all alone at college while I went home and that it was horrible for me to not invite him and that I wasn’t enjoying my last few weeks at college like I should. Somehow, I always ended up being the one apologizing. I remember sitting in his bed and calling my mom in front of him to tell her I couldn’t come home because he “didn’t trust me enough” to call her later on my own. This is definitely one of the more heartbreaking phone calls I’ve had to make. It was like with each and every day, he drove a bigger and bigger wedge between me and my family. Sometimes I feel like moving to Nashville was just all apart of this plan.

So. May finally comes and off we go to Nashville. If I could go back and tell myself that this was going to be one of the biggest mistakes of my life, I would. But even if there was a massive billboard outside my apartment that read “Don’t Move to Tennessee” I still would’ve gone. I was so blindsided by the glory of graduating and moving to Nashville and moving in with my boyfriend. Little did I know that the hardest eight months of my life lied ahead of me. My new norm became not being able to spend time with friends I had made at work, not being able to call my mom when I was around him, not being able to talk to any of the guys at work, not being able to go home and see my family. I remember when he would come home from a long day at work, he would find something, just something to get mad at me for. And every time, I believed him and I apologized and I genuinely felt guilty for ever doing something to make him this mad. I had never felt like such a shit human being in my entire life. He made me feel like I did absolutely everything wrong and I was so lucky to have him and often found myself wondering why he put up with me all the time. Looking back at this truly makes me feel sick to my stomach. How did I ever let it get this far? I remember one night locking myself in the bathroom in our apartment as he yelled at me (for God knows what). I still to this day have never felt so genuinely scared of another human being. I mean, he was a big guy, he grew up on a farm and I was just this 140-something-pound girl that has zero way of defending herself.

I don’t know what it was that final day that made me leave him. It’s not like there was an massive argument going on or anything. Just something in my brain clicked. Still to this day, I don’t know what it was that made me wake up that day and say “I’m breaking up with him” but God, am I glad I did. From that day on, I’ve truly never looked back with regret or guilt and that’s something I’m incredibly grateful for. I’ve never once thought about going back and I never will. But I gotta say, those first few months out of the relationship were far from easy and my fight was far from over. It’s not like I just ended the relationship and all my problems were gone. In a lot of ways, a lot of my problems were just beginning. Those two months I had to live with him after we broke up were just plain shit. I slept at my friend’s apartments and when that wasn’t an option, I’d sleep in my car in the Walmart parking lot (which is still something I’ve never really told anyone, oops). I remember dreading leaving work because it meant having to find somewhere else to go. I’d work from 6:15 in the morning and stay until 5:00 at night because I just truly didn’t have anywhere to go. With that being said, I was still paying rent and I did still shower in my apartment before Josh would return home from work and all of my clothes were still in that apartment. But the thought of having to face Josh truly terrified me. In those two months, when I would be around him, he never actually hit me. He’d grab me, throw things at me, yell me at me and threaten to hit me but he never actually hit me. If I didn’t sleep on my friend’s couches or I didn’t sleep in my car, I think that would’ve been a very different story. I remember some nights when I would see him (mostly in the few days right after the break-up), I never knew which Josh to expect to walk in the door. I could get a furious Josh that had veins popping out of his forehead and got noise complaints called on us from his yelling OR I could get the Josh that would cry and promise change if I came back and even swore he would kill himself if he had to be without me. I still don’t know which one was worse.

Once I finally moved back to Ann Arbor, I was hopeful. I thought “Ok, now all of my problems have ended.” But again, most of my problems were just beginning. At this time, I was still (yes, STILL), in denial of the fact that I had been in an abusive relationship. (I know, I know.) There’s still so much of it that I’m working through but I’m making progress nonetheless. After a year and a half of being blamed for everything and for being the root of all the problems in a relationship, it’s hard to go back and unpack everything and make the realization that maybe it wasn’t all my fault. Let me rephrase that, it’s hard as hell. Going to a therapist in Ann Arbor has been one of the better decisions I’ve made for myself since moving back here. There’s so many things from that relationship that I just truly don’t want to tell anyone in my life. My friends and family are just so much better off not knowing or maybe just knowing the very surface level stuff. Seeing a therapist has helped me keep all of it from getting bottled up in my head. I’ve felt so many emotions unpacking that relationship. I’ve felt anger, regret, sadness, anger, depression, anger. Did I mention anger?

I feel like I’m getting there though. I’m getting through to the other side of this shit show. I’m finally starting to feel like I can see the light on the other end of this miserable, fucked up part of my life, which is definitely something to be grateful for. Sometimes I think about what life would have been like if I didn’t wake up that one day in October and decide to break up with him but I’m damn grateful that I’ll never know.

#abusive relationships #relationships #life sucks #followers #blog #rant #emotions #depression #therapy

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larissaloki · 6 years ago

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Abusive relationships,

Yes another one of these, ths my own personal experiences with a relationship that ended nearly two years ago. I’ve only just gotten the confidence too share as to this day, my son is still negatively affected by the aftermath.

Thankfully my relationship only lasted 2 months before i wised up and kicked his ass to the curb. These kinds of relationships can happen to anyone, not just women, so this post will hopefully serve as a warning for everyone on what to look out for.

Before i continue i will warn that content can be sensitive for some (obviously) but also mentions of a bdsm esk lifestyle. Not overly explitic but it’s still there. Also I am just writng out as it pops into my head so bare with my ramblings as this hard to get out.

To start off with, I am a single mum living in a flat and at the time i was working part time (18 hours a week a the time) with a 2 year old toddler and 22 years old. Despite having a son I was lonely a lot as a lot of friends stopped contacting me and my weekly dnd group was disbanded so my human interactions where limited and lets just say retail doesn’t equate to good human contact.

Fast forward because you don’t want to hear about my struggles wth dating as humourous it is. I met (lets call him D) D and as always, things see well- D was sweet and charmng and was seemingly ok with me having a toddler. Brillant! i thought i had hit gold with this guy.

This how abusers are, they make themselves seem to sweet and amazing that you become blind any faults. You know that saying “I’m not like those guys, not all guys are like that” D used these words when describng himself and in conversations. in my experience with him and a few other people, people that have used these sentences are often exactly like the ones they say they aren’t.

So far everything he’s done is present a pleasent package that sound and looks trustworthy and a nice guy. Making the bad traits come across as just mere off days. I was so blinded by the fact that he seemed to sweet and nice that i didn’t realise exactly what he was doin for a mere two months. thankfully talks at schools and thing’s I’ve read online and family members helped me clock onto his games.

ALWAYS LISTEN TO FAMILY! i say this because they noticed within weeks what he was doing and were trying to find ways to warn me. He seemed hesitant to meet my family after a month of dating which for my family is odd, as we are a pretty tight family more or less at the times. My mum met everyones partners quickly as we all visited each other a lot at the time.

when she did meet him a month into dating and was talking to him, D admitted that he would read my phone over my shoulder ALL.THE.TIME. This is not good, nothing i thought was private actually was. But his own phone was protected like it was the holy grail of all holy grails. I never actually asked to see his phone but it’s somethin i noticed after we broke up that he would always hide the screen from anyone in the room. He would try and create arguments over anything with my mu and sister when they were at my home while i was working, watching over my son. At this pont i wasn’t still comfortable enough for D to be along with my son.

When i then got home, my mum and sister would leave quickly unable to stand being in D’s presence. this made me think they simply just didn’t like him, so when it annoyed me, D would jump onto my rants and feed them. Make my anger at my mum and sister worse by telling white lies, basically fanning the flames. People, if your partner does this- take a step back and wonder why.

D was purposefully driving wedges between me and my family and later my best friend by complaining about each and trying to get me to join his point of view. Tryng to get me to view them as hinderences rather than support. Driving me to focus on him completely and not them. Do not let anyone destroy your family ties, especially ones with your closest family.

then theres the other little things, like comlaining how i wash my hair and which products i use saying i was damaging myself. everything i used was of good value and methods professional hairdressers adviced me to use. But apparently a guy who doesn’t even condition and had short balding hair had better knowledge then me. this is another form of control, trying to tell me how to do things. same with cooking, I’m not a bad cook i can make somegood meals but he insisted on cooking saying he’s amazing at cooking. He would often put in way to much garlic and onion making the meals he made full of to much flavour and would get upset when my poor 2 year old wouldn’t eat or I wouldnt. Even when i told him not to put so much he would snap saying he knew what he was doing.

Then theres the guilt tripping and telling me how to raise my child. A person who has no children was apparently more knowledgable than me who read articles and books and have a mother who’s had 4 kids herself. When out and about he would get annoyed when my 2 year old had a tantrum and play up.

saying that my son was being a disrespectful shit to me and would publically shame me for ignoring or trying to appease my son depending on what the tantrum was over. RED FLAG! A 2 year old cannot be disrespectful, my son struggles with speech to this day due to D demanding my son uses his words and not cries to display hs wants. D’s view was that kids should be perfectly articulate at 2 year old and understand all these adult social cue’s.

Then at bed times, D hated that i cuddled my son till he slept and that my son came intomy bed halfwa through the night for comfort reasons. So he demanded i changed the night routine to involve maths for my 2 year old and a story while my son was in bed then just walkout of the bedroom. leave my son alone regardle if he was upset, my heart broke at my sons cries as D scared my son back into bed and kept leaving him. Ignoring my concerns with this method saying it wht he read online and eventually my son will sleep. worst two weeks of my life until i broke the cycle as I just couldn’t allow it to continue.

i was fas growing afraid of D at this point. One night he flipped his shit as i turned over in bed declaring it was to hot to share the bed due to my memory foam topper and that he runs hot anyway. he threw his phone at the wall over it. Another time he yelled at me for not trying a certain stores jellybabies when i said. didn’t like jellybabies, saying that i was being stubborn as this stores jelly babies were delicious. i promised to try them later- when he was out i threw them away and just told him that yes they were ok.

He mocked the games i played and liked, i love final fantasy and rpg games a lot. i find them entertaining but he mocked them saying i should play more fighter interactve games. he made me play one that i just found dull and did not like at all.

After this he was also scaring me with his bsm ettiquette, anyone in bdsm know that you respected your partners limits and repected their safe word and what they tell you the are ok with and what they aren’t ok with. A few times he violated this. He liked to give pain and i liked mostly pleasure and rope play. A hard limit for me was belts- i was not ok with them at all, he used one one session and i had to safe word out quickly which he found fuckng funny. This is not ok. Another time we wanted to try a new pose with ropes and the position i was in was making me feel ill half way through beng tied, so i safe worded and asked me to get me out as i felt sick.

If your partner is in rope and feels unwell or safe words out- get them out fast! Cut the ropes if you need to you can always buy more ffs. But D didn’t, he sighed and slowly untied me. No matter how much i begged him to hurry up he went at his own slow ass pace. Do not do this as something someone once found enjoyable suddenly no longer is.

And lastly, do not snap at your sub if your rope plans dont go to plan. Do not make them feel bad if something doent work. I was snapped at when ties he was tryng for the first time weren’t working, nothing i could help.

towards the end he told my mum when they again where at mine alone that he would be moving in in 6 months time so she had best get usedto him being here. we had only been dating at this point for less than 2 months. I have a rule that i don’t move in with someone unles i’ve been with them for more than 2-3 years at the minimum.

8 MONTHS IS TO SOON.

the event that pretty much spelled the end for this? was my sons bday and D turned up after eveyone had gone which fair enough, lots of kids wasn’t his thing. I had some alcohol and energy drinks as well, he offere weed which i had had before unaware of him slipping me ectasy as well.

All of these things did not respond well to me, hours later in the next morning as i had this 9 pm the night before, by 10 am D left to go home and i was dealing with what i think was the come down. Badly. Ikept having panic attack and was not right for two days after. My heart kept going dangerous speeds that i had to call my mum and sister for help as D said he woudlnt come over as i wa just beng silly and that it would pass. I was worried for my son if something was to happen to me over it.

After this i talked to my mum and the truth was coming out in small bits. I stupidly was on the fence about what my mum was telling me as i was reliant on D’s affection and we i went to get a coil (birth control device) and D hated that i was going with my mum and that i had been talking to her.

He got defensive and was telling me i didnt need my mum in my life. His mum wa dead and he was doing well, so i didn’t need mine in hs eyes. This is maniplative as fuck and he was an asshole trying to use this. By thi point. Was wising up to his tactics and games with teh help of my mum exposing what he hadsaid to her and i dumped him.

He tried to then play around with getting his things back and tried to arrange it when i would be alone. Never meet an ex like this alone people i beg you, i got my mums bf to wait for him instead,and i prepacked his stuff so he couldnt possibly steal anything. When he saw my mums bf his aggressive pose he had at the door dropped away. He was suddenly polite and cordial and left with little fuss once received his things. Never meet an abusive ex alone.

After he left my life i found out he had gotten onto my computer that was a christmas gift and had wrecked it beyond usable it quickly broke and i lost everything on it. All my musc and pictures and works. My computer wa my escap and coping mechanism for depression and anxiety. Same as my music. Im still struggling in life around men due to this and my son is strugling to learn to speak still.

Please be careful and never cut out people from your life because a partner says so. Friends and family mean more than someone you just met.

#larissaloki #abusive relationships #life struggles

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vex-bittys · 7 years ago

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Only Blue: A LamiaSwap Story

This is the third place fic raffle prize for jezziconvair, who asked for a yandere lamia but left most of the details up to me. I hope the finished product makes up for the long wait!

Contains: murder, yandere behavior, hypnosis,drugging, captivity, mentions of abuse

(There is no sexual content in this story. It is under the cut for length only)

Since you were a child, since the first time you heard about the breaking of the Barrier, since you first watched monsters emerge from the Underground to stand in the sunlight once more on your television screen, you dreamed of having a monster friend, and Blueberry, or Blue as you frequently called him, was a dream come true.

You met the rare skeleton lamia at a community center which held events to promote human-monster relations. Blue possessed an irresistible personality, coupled with blue, star-shaped eyelights and an ever-present grin. He fascinated you from the moment you laid eyes on him, and from his exuberant greeting- a tight hug that lifted you right off of your feet- you guessed that he felt the exact same way about you.

Blue referred to you affectionately as Human, and after your first meeting, you got together time and again to go out for food or coffee, partake in hikes and other outdoor adventures, and stay in to binge watch shows and movies. Blue answered all of your questions about monsters in general and skeleton lamias in particular, and you did your best to explain life as a human living on the Surface to him.

You trusted Blue completely, so when your significant other turned violent, you placed a tear-filled call to him in the middle of the night and ended up as platonic roommates. You were too shaken by the attack to talk to the police, but Blue assured you that he handled the situation, and your ex never called or bothered you again. The whole ordeal strengthened your friendship with Blue even further.

Blue, ever the vigilant protector, visited you every day at your job, dropping you off and picking you up and even stopping by for spontaneous check-ins just to set your mind at ease. When you and Blue went out, he often playfully put his arm around you to prevent potential suitors from approaching. If they didn’t get the hint and flirted with you anyway, a warning hiss usually scared them away.

You were grateful to Blue for his big brother tendencies. After your last dating experience, you weren’t ready to put yourself back out on the singles’ market quite yet. Nothing would change your mind until a stranger gave you a shy smile one day. You recognized the person; you’d seen them around town at many of the same restaurants and events that you and Blue frequented.

You struck up a conversation with them, and the connection between the two of you sparked to life in that moment. They seemed to like you, and you couldn’t deny the attraction you felt for them. You gave them your number, and they promised to call you that very night.

Their calls became a nightly ritual, and you spent hours talking to them every week. You couldn’t help gushing to Blue about how happy it made you every time you saw a text from them or fell asleep to the sound of their voice. You asked Blue if he minded if they joined you for a movie over the weekend, and he gave you a curt head shake. You thought nothing of it until the day of your date-and-a-half arrived.

Blue’s behavior could only be classified as odd. He acted like they weren’t even there, answering any question directed at him with icy silence. The movie ended with the three of you standing awkwardly in the lobby. Blue glared at your crush, and your crush rubbed the back of their head awkwardly under his scrutiny. You wondered what the lamia’s problem was, and you confronted him about it when you got home.

“Why were you being so rude?” you demanded. Blue never treated anyone that poorly. Did he know something about them that you didn’t?

“I don’t trust them,” replied Blue smoothly. “They creeped me out. I just want what’s best for you. I just want you to be safe.” Blue’s eyelights radiated sincerity, and the longed you locked eyelights with him the more his words made sense to you. Maybe you weren’t thinking clearly after your last relationship? Blue just wanted you to be safe. You trusted Blue. When they called you that night, you didn’t answer the phone.

Your mistrust faded away overnight, however. Your crush called later, apologizing for imagined scenarios, and you relented, accepting their offer of dinner and dessert for tonight, just you and them. They promised to pick you up at seven, and you found yourself actually looking forward to the date. You shared your excitement with Blue,and he smiled, a sweet and genuine smile.

“I’m so happy that you found someone,” he congratulated you, setting your mind at ease.

You were ready for your date by six, picking out a flattering casual outfit for what you hoped would be the first date of many. Seven o’clock came and went. Eight o’clock passed by as well. Around nine, Blue slithered through the door, brows raised in surprise at seeing you still waiting in the kitchen where you’d been when he left earlier.

“No date?” he asked innocently.

“No,” you told him, barely holding back tears. “They didn’t call, and they won’t answer my messages. We made our plans today, why would they cancel?”

Blue wrapped his arms around you, pulling you tight against his ribcage and coiling his long, ecto-flesh around you, surrounding you in his comforting presence.

“Shh,” he soothed, “It’s alright. There’s nothing to worry about. I suspected they might do something like this. You’re better off without them.” You felt so tired. Blue was right. Blue wouldn’t lie to you.

“I’m better off without them,” you repeated softly as the tension left your body. Blue lifted you gently into his arms and carried you into your room.

“I’m here for you. I always will be. It’ll be just you and me,” he murmured as you kicked off your shoes and pulled the blankets over your still-clothed body.

“Just you and me,” you repeated his words again. It sounded so safe and comfortable. Just you and your very good friend Blue, who would never let anything happen to you. Your head nestled into your soft, downy pillow and you drifted off into a dreamless sleep immediately.

You awoke well-rested, but the sadness from being stood up the night before lingered. You checked your texts and voicemails, but your crush hadn’t contacted you at all. You left a vague voicemail for them, asking them if they were ok and telling them that there were no hard feelings over the missed date. When you finally left your room, dressed for work and starving for breakfast, you discovered that Blue wasn’t even home to give you one of his famous hugs. It was going to be a long day.

Fortunately, you shared your shift with your favorite co-worker and high school partner in crime. As soon as you came through the door, she embraced you. With a happy sign, you leaned into the gesture. How had she known you needed this? It took you a moment to realize that she was crying. You pushed her away, holding her at arm’s length while you absorbed her puffy eyes and the streaks of eyeliner and mascara running down her face.

“What happened?” you asked, your own problems forgotten in the wake of your friend’s misery.

“You didn’t know?” she asked in shock. “Oh, honey, I’m so sorry.” You must have looked as utterly bewildered as you felt because she led you into the break room, waving at the TV where news anchors covered a breaking story that held the other workers captivated.

You stared at the TV with an open mouth. Photo after photo flashed across the screen. Over a dozen faces of apparently unrelated men and women slowly filled the screen. You recognized two of the images- your abusive ex and your recent crush. Your eyes darted to the news ticker, attempting to catch up with the words marching across the bottom of the screen.

Anxiety thrummed through your entire body as you picked out words and phrases, putting the story together as different images appeared on the TV. Bodies found. Mass grave. Secluded area. No suspects. No leads. Just victim after victim being exhumed.

How could this be happening? You’d seen your crush yesterday! You collapsed onto the sofa in the break room, processing the information sluggishly. They were dead. They were gone. They were murdered. Numbness swept through your body, chasing away the energy of a restful night’s sleep. You friend shook your shoulder, repeating your name until you regained enough mental fortitude for an eloquent “Huh?”

“Are you ok? Do you want to go home? I can drive you.” You considered it, then nodded. Blue must surely be home by now. He would know what to do. He would take care of you, he had to because you couldn’t function right now. Not after this.

Your friend dropped you off at Blue’s house, waiting outside and watching you through the windshield to make sure you got into the house alright. You fumbled with your key before simply turning the knob in frustration and finding it unlocked. You’d locked the door behind you when you left for work that morning, and that meant Blue must be back from his early morning errand.

As soon as you stumbled across the threshold, you heard the sound of the shower running. You didn’t think you could drag yourself through the house to the bathroom in your shaken state, so you called for him, just him name, but it was enough. The shower noises ceased, and Blue hurried to your side, toweling himself off as he went.

Distress must have been written all over your face because he let the towel fall onto a pile of dirty clothes on the floor- an unusual sight in the tidy lamia’s house, but not noteworthy enough to distract you from the horrible newscast you’d witnessed. Blue held you close to him, stroking your back in soothing circles. He didn’t even ask what was wrong; you’d tell him when you felt ready.

Breaking away from the hug, you sat on the couch and wordlessly patted the seat next to you. Picking up the remote, you flipped through channels until you found the same news story as before, although they were all reporting live coverage of the same event. More pictures had been added to the list of victims, and your stomach twisted as you remembered meeting some of the other victims before as well.

The man in the top left square made beautiful silver filigree jewelry. Blue had purchased a necklace from him for you at a local art fair. After Blue fastened the necklace, with its butterfly shaped pendant, around your neck, the man had kissed your hand and called you exquisite. Blue’s hand laid on top of yours on the couch cushion, and as if he could read your thoughts, he brushed his thumb along the back of your hand where the man had placed his kiss.

A young woman two pictures down on the same side had laughed at a joke you told when Blue took you out for ice cream. She’d even given you an extra scoop for “making her day a little brighter.” Fresh tears welled up in your eyes to join those that had already trailed down your cheeks over the untimely and unexpected death of your crush earlier. In the lower right corner you recognized the face of another person who had held a door open for you and waved you into a restaurant like royalty. How was it possible to be familiar with so many seemingly random strangers? More importantly, who had done such a horrible thing? Someone committed these crimes, and they needed to be found and held accountable!

The newscast cut to a press conference with the chief of police. The shuffling of papers sounded deafening in the pregnant silence as the press waited for an update on the victims or information about a potential suspect. The police chief inhaled deeply, preparing to drop a devastating statement to those gathered around, hoping for swift justice for all of the lives lost.

“We have no suspects at this time.”

The conference room erupted into startled gasps and worried hushed discussions. It took a moment for the reporters to compose themselves and start launching questions. The police chief wore a harried expression as he sifted through the cacophony to answer specific individuals.

“Is there a connection between the victims?”

“At this time, the murders appear to be random and unrelated, spanning over the course of at least several months. Currently, we are only able to theorize on how the perpetrator has been selecting their victims.”

“Does this mean that anyone could be targeted if the killer strikes again?”

“Unfortunately, yes.”

You didn’t even notice when your body started shaking, but the warm security of Blue’s muscular tail encircling you with gentle protectiveness made you realize how badly the story was affecting you. Your crush had been murdered while you waited for them to pick you up for a date. You stood in the kitchen, calling and texting them, and at that very moment, they might have been fighting for their life. What if you were next? The killer could be anyone, and their target could be anyone as well.

Everything suddenly felt so unstable and unsafe. You slumped against Blue as alternating waves of anxiety and numbness washed over you. Your eyes fell on Blue’s discarded clothing, and you stared at it, unseeing. It only caught your focus because it was out of place. Blue never left a mess. He even picked up after you sometimes.

“It could’ve been me,” you whispered. Blue chuckled, the sound jarringly out of place considering the circumstances.

“You’re safe. The killer won’t hurt you.” Blue’s words instantly calmed you, the way they always did.

“Safe,” you murmured. That’s right. You were safe. Nothing to worry about. Except you still felt unsettled. You couldn’t put your finger on it right away, but something was definitely out of place. You concentrated, continuing to stare at the clothes strewn across the floor. It dawned on you slowly. The shirt and scarf and the floor around them were smeared with bright red mud, the same color mud you’d seen when the news cameras panned over the mass grave.

“Blue, how did you get that mud on you?” you jerked away from him before he had a chance to answer you, but his coils tightened around you, preventing you from escaping. You struggled, but he overpowered you easily. “Blue, what’s going on? Did you murder them? Did you kill those people?” Hysteria crept into your voice.

Blue’s tail tipped your chin upwards until you were forced to look him directly in the eyelights. The fathomless depths of blue threatened to swallow you whole, but you couldn’t summon the willpower to blink or avert your gaze.

“There’s nothing to worry about,” he intoned. “Everything is fine.” Your body sagged; you suddenly felt like you weighed a thousand pounds, as if gravity had somehow increased on you specifically. Blue kept on talking to you, purring reassurances that vibrated through you, right down into your bones until your panic finally subsided. Fatigue tugged at you, and your eyelids, previously reluctant to so much as blink, could barely stay open.

“Nothing… to worry… about,” you managed to murmur, words slurred by exhaustion. Blue’s assurances made sense; they always made so much sense, especially when he stared right into your SOUL with those dazzling eyelights. You didn’t remember going to bed, but you woke up late into the afternoon the next day wearing your favorite pair of pajamas.

You checked your nightstand, your floor, under your bed, and even in your laundry basket for your phone, but you just couldn’t find it. You gave up and stumbled into the kitchen for breakfast, which Blue had thoughtfully prepared for you. You shoveled down forkful after forkful of Blue’s delicious cooking, wondering why you were so hungry. Did you miss dinner last night? Your memories of yesterday were foggy and distant. You lifted a hand to your forehead to see if you were coming down with a fever.

You couldn’t get your hand to obey you though. It hung limply by your side despite your best efforts to move. You tried to explain your plight to Blue, but you couldn’t get your mouth to form coherent speech; all that came out was a garbled groan. Shadows crept forward from the edges of your vision until everything went black and you collapsed forward onto the table.

Blue made a tsk-tsk sound as he picked you up and carried you back to your bed. As much as he hated using hypnosis on you, he hated drugging you even more. He couldn’t let you leave the house though, not anymore. You obviously didn’t understand the dangers of the world around you. Blue needed to take care of you, to protect you from your own poor decisions, like the possibility of you leaving him for another mate or making accurate by unwanted accusations to local law enforcement.

The lamia had already reported you missing. He’d disposed of your phone in a dark alley already overflowing with trash. He claimed that your whereabouts after you left for work a few days ago were a mystery to him, but he feigned concern like a professional actor, even summoning up some crocodile tears for the officer who interviewed him. Now two officers were planning to visit the house to look for evidence.

Blue sighed, slinging your unconscious form over his shoulder. It was so much easier to hide dead bodies. You could toss them around without fear of harming them, not that he cared about harming those foolish humans when they were alive either. You belonged to him. If they didn’t understand that fact, they deserved to die. Nobody would ever take you away from him. He just had to hide you in his storage unit for a few days until the police lost interest, then he could have you all to himself forever.

The manacles on the twin size bed fastened with a satisfying click. Now you could sleep safely, away from the watchful eyes of nosey neighbors and investigators alike. You flailed listlessly for a moment after he put the blanket over you, but you settled soon enough. Blue padlocked the door behind him with a serene smile on his face. With enough hypnosis and the aide of powerful sedatives, you’d learn to accept him, and he wouldn’t need the restraints anymore.

You attempted to claw your way free of the sludge that clogged your mind. You were trapped, but you kept forgetting where you were and how long you’d been there. You lost track of the passage of time. Dreams became muddled with reality, and all you could truly comprehend were the two mesmerizing blue eyelights that haunted your perpetual twilight.

Your struggles weakened. You saw no reason to fight. You were safe here. Blue protected you. Blue took care of you. Blue knew what was best for you. Nothing else mattered. Nothing else existed.

Just you and Blue.

You and Blue.

Blue.

Endless blue.

INDEX

#vexy writes #underswap #lamiatale #lamiaswap #yandere blueberry #yandere trope #hypnosis and drugging #forced captivity #fic raffle prize

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smelllikeholyhell-blog · 6 years ago

Text

Analysis of abuse

I told myself that this is where I was going to use this site to do my B I G A N G E R Y P O S T I N G so I might as well stay true to it.

Editing in some precursor TWs: I detail acts of abuse, sexual assault and manipulation below with the intent of analysing what allows those things such prevalence in society. If that’s uncomfortable for you I respect that and wish you a good evening/day : )

Through recent events in my life, developments concurrent with my own ability to criticise myself being at its highest, I’ve started reevaluating a lot of what behaviour is and isn’t abusive. This is predictably an incredibly uninspiring and unproductive exercise, most abusive behaviour is actually just abusive behaviour. But in paying attention to the attitude, aftermath and the vigour of abuse from abusers seems to dictate more than the actual behaviour itself.

Hot take for the post: All people will be guilty of abuse at some point or another in a relationship, and unknowing abuse is still abuse.

I’ve said this to a lot of people and it feels like almost all of them become apprehensive and feel a need to guard themselves and their friends in that situation. A few lines of reasoning appear; What about mentally ill people? What about when your partner won’t communicate abuse? What about in early relationships where you actually couldn’t know better? What about when the person has no control?

At the end of the day abuse is one thing and one thing only and that is the mistreatment of something or someone. I think an important standard to have set for yourself in your personal relationships--or at least a healthy and safe one--is to be able to identify patterns of abuse where they are. An important secondary one is to be able to identify the source of that abuse.

Some trauma victims engage in abusive behaviours as a way of meeting a standard of self-protective coping they’ve developed for themselves. I can say that their intentions aren’t even predominantly bad, just self-sufficient in the ways they’ve learned how to be. I can attest to that personally and also say that it’s something I’m working on. I have found myself doing strange things in fits of panic, things that are extremely worrying too. I can also say that almost every one of my significant others has, at some point or another, engaged in abusive behaviour of varying severity ranging from sexual violence and physical violence to a downright flagrant manipulation of emotion.

I’ve had exes try and separate me from my entire social life. I’ve had exes accuse me of things they themselves have done to me. I’ve had exes try their absolute hardest to convince me to commit suicide after a breakup, or sometimes close to one. Contrary to those actions; I would not consider all of them to be abusers.

I think a differential classification between abusers and people who engage in abusive behaviour is slight, pedantic and something I’ve done mostly to benefit myself but I also believe my reasoning behind it is sound. I believe an abuser is someone who engages in abusive behaviour with the added circumstance of no remorse, no willingness to change, or a complete indifference to how they’ve treated someone else.

I have two anecdotes I can use to separate these two types of people:

In 2013 I dated a girl named S, she was extremely sweet, very cute, and had a habit of emotional manipulation. She would buy affection and feel entitled to sexual interaction afterwards, if she didn’t get it a fight would ensue. When I explained to her that I was depressed she’s condescendingly disregard my state of being and respond that I’m “Always depressed, and pretty bad to be around like that”. I would consider that strong of an amount of emotional neglect, coupled with the desire to purchase the ‘right kind of partner’ to be abusive. I would, however, not consider her to be an abuser. Years later I presented her with what she had said to me, how she treated me, the precedents she set in that relationship, and told her I found it abusive. Her reaction was one of legitimate guilt, an actual desire to make things right. Over a few months I saw her actually change as a person slowly but surely, she didn’t just internalise that she had done something wrong (a distinguishing moral characteristic that separates abusers from people who inadvertently engage in abuse); she sought to fix the personality traits and habits that led to that pattern of behaviour. We had disagreements and a falling out anyway but that happens! And it’s okay. Not everyone you don’t like in this world is abusive, sometimes you both look at each other and just think “wow what an asshole” and stop talking.

My second anecdote is extremely recent, fresh in my mind, and one that can showcase what I did wrong too.

In 2018 I dated a boy named T. T raped me. T gaslighted me. T hit me, spit in my face, mocked me for being neurodivergent, mentally ill, having an ED, and for my history of self-harm. He enabled the abuse of other people around me too, for example his sister who would verbally abuse or berate me any time I came into contact with her.

Before I go any further into this anecdote let me explain what I did wrong too, that’s fair and I’m mature enough to work on my problems and also admit to them openly; In that relationship I was insulting. When an argument was started and an insult was thrown my way I wouldn’t just double down on retaliation I would metaphorically nuke the opposition out of existence. It took one or two insults to set me off to a degree that I feel incredibly guilty for, and had no right reaching. I yelled a lot, in my family we do nothing but yell and for all that I like to tell myself that I’m better than my family, more often than not that isn’t true. In arguments I would yell and I would shout in situations where a calm tone of voice not only was doable but was outright beneficial. I had issues with respecting personal space which is made even worse by the fact that at the age of 21 I’ve spent 14 years trying to cultivate the most dominant and intimidating physical presence in the room at any given point in time. I internalised reactions to abuse and turned them into different forms of abuse. I would make A feel trapped in some spaces, my physical demeanour would come off threatening. This is something I can happily say I rectified over the course of that relationship once it was brought to my attention but I still have no excuse for my behaviour, and will never do anything but admit to it wholly.

Let’s return to him, though; During an argument one day where I mentioned feeling a lot of disdain towards T for how he’d treated me, he pointedly asked “What did I ever do to you?”.

The response you could guess was coming; You raped me.

T’s response, significantly harder to guess but one that still haunts me to this moment: “I could tell people the same thing about you, how would you like it?”. In this relationship not only had T sexually assaulted me twice, coerced me into sex I didn’t want a half dozen other times, and made me extremely unsafe around him. He knew I’d been abused as a child. Not only abused, but disbelieved as well. When reporting the abuse of a close family friend to my family I was called a liar. I was smacked by my mother. Over the course of a long conversation that I don’t particularly want to remember the details of I was told that one day someone would say the same thing about me and I “wouldn’t like it too much then”. T knows this. T knows this and several different points in time he made it his mission to exploit that knowledge.

This sent me into a panic attack which resulted in T leaving for a week.

When he left, I went to a nonbinary support group we frequent and asked an organiser for help. I wanted him blocked from returning to that environment because I wanted to begin cutting him out of my life as quickly and efficiently as possible. I needed him gone, so I told an organiser everything that had happened. They said okay. That they believed me. But that they were going to contact T to tell him what was up.

As you can imagine I said: or how about fucking don’t, dude. This was ignored. T was contacted. He returned and began 6 months of cruel manipulation. He would trigger PTSD episodes, panic attacks, he’d hit me, yell at me and after all of this he would play the role of victim no matter what happened. Even if the retaliation was just me saying “You’re being abusive” this was somehow, in his mind, an act of aggression. These would become more flagrant around friends, in isolated situation with specific people. He’d started trying to divide me from my friends. Doing nothing with me but then constantly taking every opportunity to demand that I separate myself from my friends. Any situation that could be twisted into my friends being the ones making me unhappy would result in me being told I shouldn’t talk to them anymore, if I railed against that it would result in an argument where I was mocked for being mentally ill or neurodivergent. This sounds like hyperbole but this was a consistent pattern over the course of six months as well as a pattern of physical abuse and sexual coercion and manipulation.

Many, many more things happened but this isn’t an autobiography. The reason I give such excruciating detail to T’s behaviour is that he never felt remorse for any of it. Never changed any of it. When it came time to face the repercussions of what he’d done, T flipped it on me to the best of his ability. He took great strides to make me look abusive, to make me look deranged or unstable. I would consider T, regardless of his excuses and manipulation (or perhaps because of them) to be the quintessential abuser. Someone whose pattern of abuse is so hardwired into their daily existence that they see it as natural, that anyone disagreeing or disavowing that behaviour is the abuser. Even when confronted with the facts of their behaviour not only are things just not their fault the abuser says that those behaviours are healthy. That the victim is wrong. That nothing can be done, or if it can be done it’ll take so many years.

We can draw these lines in the sand as much as we want but let’s ask ourselves what contributes to these systems?

In T and I’s relationship we had a mutual friend named X; X always had excuses for T. Because T was afab, and I was not. If T was hitting me, slapping me and screaming at me I was expected to just leave, even if there was no option. If I hit T back once to get away I was immediately the abuser. Why? Because T was afab. And I am not. If T raped me while I slept it was because, well, in X’s words “consent is such a grey area”. Between this, the unconditional support from a twin sibling with a bone to pick, and a stunning lack of resources and social acceptance for amab people who are victims of abuse. It isn’t difficult to stretch our imagination to such an extent that we can see what causes this system. Because it takes no imagination, the contributing factors to this are laid out plain and bare in front of us; Only about half of abuse victims are seen as valid. And even more so, less than half of abuse types are valid. Sexual entitlement is a fundamental part of all cultures where men are present, be they trans or cis. Sexual entitlement removes the need and steps of obtaining consent while in a relationship because it is seen as “natural”. “Of course your significant other wants to have sex with you 24/7! And if you want it you should take it! Don’t even ask, champ, just go out there and grab it”. This attitude lends a toxic credence to the belief that consent is a “grey area”. It isn’t. Consent is a yes or no question, if you can’t get a yes or a no then do nothing.That’s final.

Just as well, the psychological aspect of physical abuse is completely unspoken of around amab people. Amab people know what they face if they retaliate to abuse. We know what the response from the legal system is. We know what repercussions we face if we defend ourselves, if we retaliate, if we leave. I know how I look in the eyes of the world, and no amount of being a pacifist will dethrone the birthright of complacency and resilience I’ve inherited. If I am hit I “deal with it, not like it could hurt that much” (spoiler; it does, physically and mentally). If I’m shoved “he’s so small, it’s not like he could send you flying”(spoiler; not the point and he has knocked me down).

And this is just what I can vouch for as an AMAB person myself, I am completely unable to even imagine what AFAB people have to put up with. But the psychological aspect of being hit, shoved, screamed at, degraded and raped and at the end of it all just being told “Well it’s not that bad really” destroyed me. It broke my will to leave my abuser. There is a social and political structure in place to demand a level of resilience from people that they cannot feasibly provide based solely on how they were born. In an equal society, or any society that strives to BE equal, we cannot expect that from anyone. We cannot expect victims of abuse to suffer their abuse and continue happily singing their song. When we place that expectation on anyone. When we place an expectation of “Don’t hit back” on anyone. When we place an expectation of “don’t ask for help” on anyone. We have all contributed a significant amount to perpetuating systems and structures that churn out abusers at a remarkable and terrifying pace, with remarkable and terrifying success. The continued existence of people like R. Kelly and Chris Brown is enough proof anyone could ask for that the current systems that have existed up until this point serve a multi function; To enable abusers the full control and automation they need to perform any abusive acts they could want to perform. To face no repercussions in the aftermath of that abuse, be they social and or political. And instill a deep sense of unequaled fear in the victims of abuse who seek to escape their situations.

When we fail to distinguish the difference between an abuser and a person making an abusive mistake--When we fail to distinguish an abuser with the appropriate connotations applied to their actions. We have opened the door for them to pass undetected through everyday life. Unless there is a significant and unified focus on deconstructing and disabling the perpetuated existed of structures that enable abuse, we have in turn enabled the continued presence and existence of abusers in safe spaces. We have enabled them to continue existing undetected in everyday life, unafraid of the consequences of their actions.

Think critically on systems of abuse and contribute where you can in dismantling them.

#abuse tw #rape #gaslighting

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reyskyber · 7 years ago

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‘my current partner is possessive and violent and i need a reason to break up with them so will you pretend to be my ex’ bellarke au with super protective bellamy?

Okay, so I’m really sorry this took so long. But it’s a lot longer than I intended? This sort of thing it not what I’m used to writing so it was somewhat of a challenge. As always, I altered the prompt slightly, I hope you don’t mind.TW: mentions of emotional abuse

Clarke pushed the cart down theaisles and tried to remember what she needed. She mentally cursed herself for not making a list, but she’d been insuch a rush to leave the house she hadn’t given herself time. She tried to remember what snacks Michael hadsaid he’d wanted. A cold chill went downher spine at the thought of her boyfriend and she pushed the thought away, notwanting to think about that now. Sherounded the corner to the confectionery aisle. She spotted a familiar mop of black curls and mentally cursed, notwanting to deal with Bellamy Blake today. She was about to turn the cart around and carry on when he popped hishead up.

Clarke stopped in her tracks,like a deer caught in headlights. Bellamy smiled and she took a deep breath. Not wanting to appear rude, she made her wayover to him. Her and Bellamy had asomewhat strained relationship, to begin with. They’d argued like hell the first few months, before their friends toldthem to cut the crap and they begrudgingly started a truce to appeasethem. Eventually the truce worked andthey became sort of friends. A pang went through Clarke at the thought ofher friends – she hadn’t actually seen them in months.

“Hey, stranger,” Bellamy teased,a smirk playing on his face. She felther stomach drop and forced a smile onto her face.

“Hi,” she replied, coming to astop next to him. “I’ve been busy.” She rushed out, trying to stop theconversation before it even started. Hereyes darted away from his, checking the area for her boyfriend. It was stupid, she told herself, he was atwork, she knew that…but it didn’t stop her worrying.

“Clarke?” Bellamy asked. Her eyes snapped back up to his face to seeit full of concern.

“Yeah?” She asked, trying for an airy and easy-goingtone. It came out breathless andstrained and she mentally cringed.

“Are you okay?” Bellamy asked, worry evident in his voice ashe placed his basket on the ground. Clarke felt a lump form in her throat, not prepared for his concern, orthis conversation in general. Bellamycame to stand in front of her and his eyes scanned her face. She looked away, not trusting her eyes to notbetray her. Bellamy sighed as she pickedat one of the threads from her sweater.

“Clarke,” he said quietly. She looked up to his face, shocked by thesoftness in his tone – she assumed it was the same tone he used with hiselementary students and that made her feel even worse. Tears prickled her eyes. “Please let me help,” he pleaded and shehuffed a laugh.

“I don’t think you can help, Bellamy,” she told him,gripping her cart, ready to leave. Bellamy stepped in front of her and she stopped.

“Try me,” he challenged and shesighed. He wasn’t going to let up onthis one.

“I have shopping to do, Bellamy,”she told him firmly and he stepped away with a sigh. She saw a defeated look cross his face butlooked away, avoiding his gaze as she passed him.

Flustered from her interaction,she quickly did the rest of her shopping and headed home before she ran intoBellamy again.

She unloaded the shopping fromher car and made quick work of putting it away. As she returned from the car, she caught a glance at herself in themirror and stood shocked. Her hairlooked dull on her shoulders, she hadn’t washed it in days, the dark shadowsunder her eyes made her face look thinner and made her normally bright blueeyes look dull. No wonder Bellamy wasworried about her, she looked a sight. She sighed and pushed her limp hair away from her face and startedgetting dinner ready. Michael would bearound soon and he would only get angry if dinner wasn’t ready for him when hegot home. She felt a pull of dread inher stomach at the thought of Michael getting angry at her but pushed thosethoughts away as she re-entered the kitchen.

She was halfway through dinnerwhen the doorbell rang. She frowned, shewasn’t expecting anyone apart from Michael, and he had a key. The doorbell rang again and she sighed.

She opened the door to seeBellamy on her doorstep, she smiled at him.

“Hey, Bellamy,” she said ingreeting. “What’s up?” He frowned at her easy tone.

“Clarke, can I come in?” He asked and she felt panic rise inside her. If Michael found Bellamy in her flat he wouldassume the worst and would almost definitely get angry with her.

“Bellamy…” she trailed off.

“Clarke, please? I know something is wrong, I’m worried aboutyou.” He moved forwards and Clarkesighed, knowing she’d already lost. Shewas touched by his concern and she felt her resolve crumble. She stepped aside and let him into her house.

He followed her into the kitchenwhere she made herself busy making coffee for both of them. She was spooning coffee into the filter whenshe felt a warm hand cover hers, she didn’t realise how badly her hands wereshaking until that moment. She looked upto Bellamy and her breath caught in her throat. Every worry and stress she’d felt over the past few months built up andshe felt a lump rise up in her throat and tears prickle again.

“Clarke, whatever it is, I’mhere,” he said softly and she felt all her restraint leave her. Tears fell from her eyes and Bellamy pulledher to his chest, coffee long forgotten. She melted into his embrace and could not contain the tears and sobs asthey ripped themselves from her chest. Bellamy held her through it all and rubbed her back soothingly.

When she had calmed down shepulled herself from his arms and wiped the tears from her face, knowing itwould be red and blotchy.

“Sorry,” she said in a wateryvoice.

“Please tell me what’s goingon?” Bellamy asked and Clarkesighed. She gestured with her head and theymade their way to the front room. If shewas going to talk about this, she needed to be sat down.

Bellamy sat close to her, closerthan he normally would and Clarke could feel the heat radiating from hisbody. It was weird, she thought, theywere barely friends and she was about to tell him something she hadn’t eventold Raven, her best friend, but this felt right.

She started from the beginning,explaining how she’d met Michael online by accident and how it had all seemednormal and he was really nice. Sheexplained how the first couple of months had been great and she really lovedspending time with him, but then he’d turned on her. She couldn’t help the tears falling as sheexplained how Michael had gotten possessive, how he’d stopped her from seeingher friends and slowly bullied her into stopping seeing her mother.

“Clarke,” Bellamy breathed,pulling her to his side. She crumpledinto him, the tears flowing non-stop. “Has he ever hurt you?” He asked,suddenly tense next to her. She shookher head into his chest.

“No,” she replied. The notyet left hanging in the air. Bellamytightened his arms around her and she continued to cry into his shirt. Bellamy didn’t say anything else, just heldher while she cried and Clarke was thankful.

The key turned in the lock andClarke froze, petrified as she heard the front door open.

“Bellamy,” she hissed as shepulled herself from his embrace. “Youneed to leave.” She pleaded with him,her eyes searching his face.

“I’m not leaving you alone withhim.” His words were final and Clarkesighed. “Just follow my lead,” heinstructed and Clarke frowned. She wipedthe tears from her face. She knew it wasa futile attempt without even looking, her face was often blotchy from cryingherself to sleep and simply wiping the tears wasn’t good enough.

“Clarke?” Michael called from the hall and Clarke frozeagain. Bellamy took her hand and gave ita squeeze. Before she could pull herhand from his grasp, Michael had rounded the corner and was stood in thedoorway. He took in the scene before himand stopped in his tracks. Clarke sawanger cross his face and she subconsciously stepped closer to Bellamy, scaredhe would lash out.

“What the fuck is this?” He seethed as he stepped into the room. Bellamy stepped in front of Clarke and Clarkefelt anxiety rise up in her chest.

“Who are you?” Bellamy asked in a calm manner, lettingClarke’s hand go so he could cross his arms over his chest. Even from the other side of the room, it wasclear that Bellamy would tower above Michael.

“Who am I?” Michael scoffed as he stepped closer toBellamy. “Who the fuck are you?” He asked, his voice raising. He moved across the room slowly, like apanther stalking its prey. Clarke hadseen this behaviour from him before and it did only made her worry more. At least this time, she told herself, Bellamywas here.

“I’m her husband,” Bellamyreplied slowly, cocking his head to the side in a silent challenge. Clarke stood frozen in shock. She stepped from behind Bellamy and shot hima quizzical look. His answering gazesaid “trust me” and she nodded,turning back to a very confused Michael.

“Clarke? What the fuck?” Michael spat. He was closer to her now, but she didn’t feel scared like she usuallydid, Bellamy was here with her and he’d protect her.

“It’s true,” she replied, holdingeye contact with him. She saw a flash ofanger in his eyes and he stepped backwards and regarded her up and down.

“And you didn’t think to tell methis when we started dating?” He asked,a cold laugh escaping him.

“I thought he was dead,” Clarkewhispered. Clarke refused to look overat Bellamy and held eye contact with Michael. “He was in the army and didn’t come home for months.” She looked away, not trusting her eyes not togive her away. Bellamy moved forwardsand put his arm around her.

Michael frowned and spluttered ather. He stood there for a few momentstrying to make sense of everything.

“You are such a bitch!” He exclaimed abruptly, stepping towards heragain, the anger was clear in his stance, it was almost vibrating from him andClarke flinched. Bellamy moved to standbetween them and Clarke pressed herself behind him.

“I think you should go,” Bellamysaid in a cool, clipped tone.

“Or what?” Michael challenged, moving to stand right infront of Bellamy.

“Or I call the police and reportyou for trespassing.” Clarke held herbreath as the two men held a silent face off. Clarke couldn’t see any of what was going on. She heard Michael suck in a breath and sheheard a shuffle as he moved away.

“You can leave your key too,”Clarke called, stepping around Bellamy and crossing her arms over herchest. Michael sneered at her butcomplied. He all but slammed the keydown on the cabinet before storming out of her house.

The front door slammed and Clarkesagged in relief. It was over, he wasgone. She turned towards Bellamy who wasalmost vibrating with rage.

“Bellamy?” She asked cautiously. He snapped his gaze to her and instantlysoftened.

“Clarke, I’m so sorry,” he saidas he walked towards her.

“It’s not your fault my boyfriendwas an asshole,” she said as he came to a stop a few feet from her.

“I think asshole is putting itpolitely,” he joked and a ghost of a s mile crossed her face before she was rememberedwhat just happened.

“Thank you,” she whispered. He nodded in response and she pulled him infor a hug. Bellamy stood shocked for asecond before wrapping his arms around her tightly.

They stayed like that for awhile. Relief washed over Clarke againand again and before long she was laughing with happiness. If Bellamy thought this was odd, he didn’tsay anything, just held her there while she let everything out.

When they finally pulled away,Clarke was at an instant loss of the contact. Bellamy’s hand came up to her cheek and he wiped away some of her tearswith his thumb. She leant into theembrace and smiled up at him.

“So, it turns out I might havecooked too much pasta…” she joked and Bellamy chuckled.

“Well, I’m never going to declinefree food,” he replied. She sighed inrelief, not wanting to spend tonight alone after that. Bellamy understood that and she felt herheart swell.

They washed up and got ready fordinner. It was slightly overdone, aftereverything, but Clarke didn’t care. Shewas too relieved to be away from Michael.

Bellamy sat across from her andit was one of the nicest meals she’d had for a while. At one point, Bellamy reached across and tookher hand, she squeezed back. She knew itwas too early to be thinking about relationships after everything with Michael,but Bellamy was here and that was enough for her. Clarke felt herself smiling properly for thefirst time in months and she finally started to feel like herself again.

#fanfic #the 100 fanfic #prompt fills #mywriting #youleftme-clarke #asks

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trendingnewsb · 7 years ago

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Growing Up in Pornland: How Porn-Addicted Boys Are “Sexual Bullying” Our Teen Daughters

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By Melinda Tankard Reist

“[I want] better education regarding sex for both boys and girls [and] information about pornography, and the way it influences harmful sexual practices.”

These are the words of Lucy, aged 15, one of 600 young Australian women and girls who took part in a just-released survey commissioned by Plan Australia and Our Watch. The survey, conducted by Ipsos, gathered responses from the girls and young women aged 15-19 in all states and territories.

In the survey report, titled Don’t send me that pic, participants reported that online sexual abuse and harassment were becoming a normal part of their everyday interactions. And while the behavior seemed so common, more than 80 percent said it was unacceptable for boyfriends to request naked images.

Sexual bullying and harassment are part of daily life for many girls growing up as a part of this digital generation. Young girls are speaking out more and more about how these practices have links with pornography—because it’s directly affecting them.

Pornography is molding and conditioning the sexual behaviors and attitudes of boys, and girls are being left without the resources to deal with these porn-saturated boys.

If there are still any questions about whether porn has an impact on young people’s sexual attitudes and behaviors, perhaps it’s time to listen to young people themselves. Girls and young women describe boys pressuring them to provide acts inspired by the porn they consume routinely. Girls tell of being expected to put up with things they don’t enjoy.

Some see sex only in terms of performance, where what counts most is the boy enjoying it. I asked a 15-year-old about her first sexual experience. She replied: “I think my body looked OK. He seemed to enjoy it.” Many girls seem cut off from their own sense of pleasure or intimacy. The main marker of a “good” sexual encounter is only if he enjoyed it. Girls and young women are under a lot of pressure to give boys and men what they want, to become a real-life embodiment of what the boys have watched in porn, adopting exaggerated roles and behaviors and providing their bodies as mere sex aids. Growing up in today’s porn culture, girls quickly learn that they are service stations for male gratification and pleasure.

When asked, “How do you know a guy likes you?” an 8th-grade girl replied: “He still wants to talk to you after you [give him oral sex].” A male high school student said to a girl: “If you [give me oral sex] I’ll give you a kiss.” Girls are expected to provide sex acts for tokens of affection and are coached through it by porn-taught boys. A 15-year-old girl said she didn’t enjoy sex at all, but that getting it out of the way quickly was the only way her boyfriend would stop pressuring her and watch a movie.

Seventh-grade girls are increasingly seeking help on what to do about requests for naked images. Receiving texts like “send me a picture of your tits” is an almost daily occurrence for many young girls. The girl asks: “How do I say no without hurting his feelings?”

As the Plan Australia/Our Watch report found, girls are tired of being pressured for images they don’t want to send, but they seem resigned to send them anyway because of how normal the practice has become. Boys then typically use the images as a form of currency, to swap and share with their friends. Often times boys will use the revealing pics to humiliate girls publicly if there is a bad break up.

Seventh-grade girls are asking questions about bondage and S&M. Many of them have seen 50 Shades of Grey, and wonder if a boy wants to hit me, tie me up and stalk me, does that mean he loves me? Girls are tolerating demeaning and disrespectful behaviors, and thereby internalizing pornography’s messages about their submissive role.

Girls describe being groped in the schoolyard and being routinely sexually harassed at school or on the school bus on the way home. They are saying that boys act like they are entitled to girls’ bodies, like girls are only there to pleasure them. It is partially true what defenders of porn often say, porn does provide sex education—but not in the way they think. It teaches middle school boys that women and girls are there for his pleasure and that they are always up for sex. To them, no just means persuade me.

Girls describe being ranked at school on their bodies, and are sometimes compared to the bodies of porn stars. They know they can’t compete, but that doesn’t stop them from thinking that they have to. Requests for genital surgery have tripled in a little over a decade among young women aged 15-24. Girls who don’t undergo porn-inspired waxing are often considered ugly, dirty or gross by boys, as well as by other girls.

Some girls suffer physical injury from porn-inspired sexual acts, including anal sex. The director of a domestic violence centre on the Gold Coast wrote to Collective Shout about the increase in porn-related injuries to girls aged 14 and up, from acts including torture:

“In the past few years we have had a huge increase in intimate partner rape of women from 14 to 80+. The biggest common denominator is consumption of porn by the offender. With offenders not able to differentiate between fantasy and reality, believing women are ‘up for it’ 24/7, ascribing to the myth that ‘no means yes and yes means anal,’ oblivious to injuries caused and never ever considering consent. We have seen a huge increase in deprivation of liberty, physical injuries, torture, drugging, filming and sharing footage without consent.”

The Australian Psychological Society estimates that adolescent boys are responsible for around 20 percent of rapes of adult women and between 30 percent and 50 percent of all reported sexual assaults of children. Just last week, Emeritus Professor Freda Briggs argued that online pornography is turning children into copycat sexual predators, acting out on other children what they are seeing in porn.

A 2012 review of research on “The Impact of Internet Pornography on Adolescents” found that adolescent consumption of Internet porn was linked to attitudinal changes, including acceptance of male dominance and female submission as the primary sexual paradigm, with women viewed as “sexual playthings eager to fulfill male sexual desires.” The authors found that “adolescents who are intentionally exposed to violent sexually explicit material were six times more likely to be sexually aggressive than those who were not exposed.”

The proliferation and globalization of hypersexualized imagery and pornographic themes make healthy sexual exploration almost impossible. Sexual conquest and domination are untempered by the bounds of respect, intimacy and authentic human connection. Young people are not learning about intimacy, friendship and love, but about cruelty and humiliation. As a recent study found:

“Online mainstream pornography overwhelmingly centered on acts of violence and degradation toward women, the sexual behaviors exemplified in pornography skew away from intimacy and tenderness and typify patriarchal constructions of masculinity and femininity.”

It is intimacy and tenderness that so many girls and young women say they are looking for. But how will young women find these sensual, slow-burn experiences in men indoctrinated by pornography? Psychologist Philip Zimbardo says of young men: “They don’t know the language of face-to-face contact… Constant arousal, change, novelty, excitement makes them out of sync with slow developing relationships—relationships which build slowly.”

Most importantly, it’s young people themselves demanding change. Josie, 18, is quoted in the Plan Australia/Our Watch report:

“We need some sort of crack down on the violent pornography that is currently accessible to boys and men. This violent pornography should be illegal to make or view in Australia as we clearly have a problem with violence, and boys are watching a lot of pornography which can be very violent… This is influencing men’s attitude toward women and what they think is acceptable. Violent pornography is infiltrating Australian relationships.”

Girls like Lucy and Josie deserve our response. It is wrong to leave sexual formation in the hands of the global sex industry. We need to do more to help young people stand up against warped notions of sexuality conveyed in pornography.

Visit Fight The New Drug today to learn more about how you can join this mission.

**This version originally published on Fight The New Drug.

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Read more: https://faithit.com/growing-up-pornland-porn-addicted-boys-sexual-bullying/

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#IFTTT #Viral News HQ

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lovenotesuggestions · 7 years ago

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I hit 5k followers in the last couple of days! Thank you for all of your support, I never could have imagined this little blog would get so much of a following, and I’m so grateful I could share this with you. Seeing you guys tag your significant others and send in your suggestions and asks about the people you love always brightens my day.

I realised I’ve never actually told the story on here of how I got together with my boyfriend Elijah, the person who inspired this blog, so I figure now is as good a time as any! (Content warnings for mentions of emotional abuse, depression, anxiety, suicidal ideation, self-harm, consumption of alcohol, and transphobia) It’s sort of a long story, so I’ll put it under a cut.

Elijah and I met in school when we were about 14 - he transferred to my school from a different part of the city. We became close quite quickly; we were in some of the same classes, and lived nearby to one another so we would often walk home together, and he ended up falling in with the friendship group I was in. (I ended up finding out later on that he actually had a crush on me around the time we first met, and I was his first “same gender” crush - neither of us had come out as trans by that point. People sometimes asked if we were a couple because we were quite physically affectionate and walked home holding hands a lot, and it was pretty well-known by that point that I was queer.)

We got even closer as time went on, especially seeing as we ended up going to the same college (the last two years of high school in Britain, which you attend age 16-18). It was a fair commute from where we lived, and we grew a lot closer while we were there, partly because we spent a lot of time travelling across the city to class and back together, especially in second year when I passed my driving test and bought a car, so it was just the two of us driving back and forth almost every weekday. I have memories of glancing over to check my wing mirror and seeing him out of the corner of my eye and feeling my throat go dry when I was first starting to crush on him.

However, until this point nothing had really happened between us beyond friendship, as for the duration of our friendship up to that point, I was already in a long-distance relationship with someone else.

Things really started happening around spring 2016. My life took something of a downward spiral. A combination of the stress from the build-up to final exams, and a realisation I was unhappy in my relationship kick-started a very dark period of my life. The relationship I was in had never been healthy, but things were pretty much getting worse and worse over time, and evolving into emotional abuse. I won’t go into too much detail about it here because it could be very triggering, but I’ve talked about it on my personal blog if anyone is interested. The posts are here: 1 | 2 (Obviously, major trigger warnings for mention of emotional abuse, transphobia, self-harm, and depression)

At the same time, I was starting to have doubts about the relationship for other reasons, namely that my attraction to my partner was waning and I was worried it might be because I was a lesbian after all (I had identified as a lesbian for a while when I was around 13/14 before coming to realise I was probably pan instead). What I didn’t realise at the time was that my attraction was waning because he was an asshole, and not because I had been secretly gay the whole time. At first, I had felt sort of been a generalised desire to be in a relationship with a girl, but after a short while, I realised it was more like I was interested in one particular person: the aforementioned best friend Elijah, who at the time had not come out to me as a trans man.

After some soul searching, I figured out that the issue with my sexuality crisis wasn’t the gender identity of my partner, it was my own gender identity. I thought I was unhappy because I was dating a man, but it had actually been because I didn’t want to be a girl dating a guy, and the sexuality issues I was having were actually a result of misdirected dysphoria. I eventually began to suspect I was non-binary, and things started to make a lot more sense. However, I still hadn’t quite figured out the other reasons I was unhappy, namely that my partner was abusive. And the revelation about my gender identity didn’t do anything to make the feelings I was developing for my friend go away.

Elijah and I came out to each other as trans at the same time a short while after this, and even though our gender identities and what we wanted out of transition were different, I found his support invaluable, and having someone who knew how I felt was really encouraging. As we grew ever closer, it became harder and harder to deny I was falling in love with him.

I did what I thought was the responsible thing and came clean to my partner at the time about the feelings I had for Elijah, thinking that would be the best way to work through them (he could tell there was something wrong anyway, and it wouldn’t have been realistic to hide them), but it only made things worse. My partner’s jealous tendencies and possessive/controlling behaviour got worse tenfold, and by the summer of 2016, things were getting really difficult, especially combined with prospect of moving in with him. We had been long distance, and he was planning to go to the same university as me in the autumn of that year and we would live together. I was having major doubts as our relationship grew more toxic, but he manipulated me into agreeing to it. That, combined with the stress of having taken my exams, the lack of routine over the long summer break, my ongoing battle with figuring out my identity, and the guilt I was feeling over my emotional unfaithfulness (plus the normal difficulties of what I thought was an unrequited crush) dropped me into a pretty bad depressive spiral.

All of that culminated in me kissing Elijah at a party we were at in the mid-summer. My boyfriend was freaking out at me via messages and harassing me constantly well into the night because he hated me going out with friends in the evenings, which I did very rarely anyway. It got to the point where I felt so suffocated that I just stopped caring, and I got really drunk and basically confessed to my friend (though I did it in a jokey way so there was an element of plausible deniability) and I ended up kissing him. In a way, it was sort of a cry for help - I wanted out of the relationship so badly that I thought the only way might be to cheat so that my partner would break up with me, because I couldn’t break up with him without being manipulated and guilt-tripped. But of course, there was also an element of being so head-over-heels that I couldn’t stop myself. When we finally got home from the party in the early hours of the morning (Elijah stayed at my place because his mum is weird about him getting home late), we fell asleep cuddling, and it was the first time I’d felt truly tranquil in a long time. I remember so clearly falling asleep with my arms around him and thinking how perfectly he fit in my arms, and how beautiful he looked in the light of the sunrise.

But of course, it had repercussions. I had been hoping my partner would leave me when he found out I had kissed my friend, but it only made things worse. His controlling behaviour got a thousand times worse, and he attempted to make my friend and I cut all contact, which I put my foot down at, but our communications were limited and heavily monitored. Shortly after, I moved into my university halls with him, and the downward spiral continued. I was stressed from schoolwork, stressed from my constant anxiety from being trapped in a tiny room 24/7 with my abuser, and my depression meant my immune system tanked, so I was completely knocked out by a very nasty strain of fresher’s flu for the best part of a month. I was isolated from my friends and support systems pretty much entirely, and I was sort of at rock bottom.

Things started turning around in the winter time of that year. I finally recovered from being ill, and my partner was slowly beginning to relax about me seeing my friends, though I was still very restricted in how long I could spend with them and it still made me very anxious to talk to him even about plans to get coffee with my friend group because his reaction was always negative, just less so than before. But after a considerable amount of time of being very isolated, being able to see my friends, but especially Elijah, improved my mood quite dramatically. I tried to find any opportunity I could to see him around our work and school schedules, because being with him was the only time I was ever really happy.

And then the Christmas holidays came around, and my partner went home for Christmas to his family, and it was only when he was gone that I realised how much safer I felt when I wasn’t around him. I went home to spend the holidays with my parents, and it came as a shock to me how much my anxiety subsided being away from my boyfriend. I could also spend more time with Elijah without him breathing down my neck about it, and we hung out a lot - we went ice skating with our friends and spent most of the time sitting together chatting and cuddling and nose-kissing, and we went to a Christmas party together and people assumed we were a couple and said we should get together (we’ve always been very affectionate) and the whole holiday period was something of an epiphany about how much brighter I felt about spending more time with Elijah and away from my abusive partner.

And then when my partner came back after Christmas, and I was suddenly miserable again, and I realised something needed to be done. I’d had conversations with friends over the time I’d been apart from my partner that gave me the uncomfortable realisation that my situation wasn’t sustainable. My plan had been to stay with him until the academic year ended as there was no way to get out of my housing contract with him, and I feared what would happen if I had to continue to live him after we split up, but I was starting to realise it wasn’t realistic, and I wasn’t actually sure if I would survive that long - my self-harm habit was getting worse, and I frequently found myself wishing I didn’t exist.

But I was still struggling to actually go through with it. I tried a couple of times to broach the subject and tell my boyfriend I just didn’t want to be with him anymore, I didn’t feel the same way about him as he did about me, but each time, I felt guilted into promising I would try to fix things; he was convinced he would never love again and he would be alone forever and spoke as though I was condemning him to have nobody care about him forever, and seeing as I’d been pretty much trained to put his needs before my own, I was always talked into holding off.

I finally managed to break through in early January, and I couldn’t have done it without Elijah. I was trying to spend as much time with him as I could because I’d missed him over the autumn months (I had to lie about who I was with to my partner to swing it) and I would come home afterwards grinning uncontrollably because I was so happy from being with him.

I ended up kissing him again a few times while we were hanging out together, and we basically acted like a couple the whole time we were together - we had a Harry Potter movie marathon and cuddled in his bed, and it was the happiest I’d been in a long time. I felt like I’d forgotten what being happy felt like, and even though I wouldn’t normally encourage or condone infidelity, I feel like it gave me the agency and strength to finally push through the guilt and manipulation and fin escape the abusive relationship. I finally managed to break up with him, even though it took days of fighting and guilt-tripping until he finally accepted it, and even then he begged for us to basically act like we were still together even if we were officially broken up. He was still reliant on me and expected me to support him through the breakup and deal with his distress, piling on more and more guilt, but this time, I finally had someone pulling me through it, giving me the strength to put myself first rather than letting him manipulate me. I had seen what it was like to be happy and to be with a person I actually felt safe with, rather than with someone that I feared.

The day after I officially got out of the old relationship, I went to see Elijah again, and we had the “what are we” discussion and officially became a couple. It was the happiest I’d felt in years, and it was sort of surreal in a way. I felt safe and respected (my old partner had never really respected my gender identity, but one of the first conversations I had with Elijah after we got together was about what I wanted to be called in terms of gender-neutral terms for boyfriend/girlfriend) and things only got better from there.

I moved part-time back in with my parents; thankfully I only study about 10 miles from my parents’ place, so I could commute to class unless I had super early lectures and I only had to stay at halls a couple days a week, and I reduced contact with my ex, until I finally moved out for good at Easter, after which I didn’t have any more timetabled classes, so I didn’t have to see him pretty much at all after that. I was right in thinking things would be bad after we split up, and it took me a while to realise that I didn’t need him in my life, and to eventually come to terms with the fact that his treatment of me was emotional abuse. But it was worth it in the end, because with Elijah, I’m not afraid. I don’t have to live in fear of anger or jealousy or possessiveness. I can speak honestly about how I feel, and I’m valued and my boundaries are respected. He’s patient and kind about even my most irrational of anxieties and triggers from my past relationship. I started to feel optimistic about my future, my self-harm habit pretty much disappeared overnight, and I didn’t want to die anymore. I’m still working through the anxiety that sprung from my abuse, but by far the thing that’s helped me the most is having someone with me who loves me and treats me how I know I deserve to be treated. I have a whole life to look forward to with the love of my life, and I don’t want to waste a second of it.

We’ve been best friends for nearly five years, I’ve been in love with him for a year and a half, we’ve been officially together for 9 months now, and living together for 2, in a home where we can both be ourselves without fear. He’s proof that things really do get better, and I love him more every day.

#about the mod #not a suggestion #about a love #long post #abuse /#depression /#self harm /#suicide /#alcohol /#anxiety /#transphobia /

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dontbeallupinmyfriesdawg · 7 years ago

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Could you write one with klaroline+crying ?

So this is a trainwreck but hey I tried.

The phone call came at 11:45pm after particularly miserable Thursday afternoon. While Caroline had been in foul mood because an event she’d been organizing for months was ruined by an unexpected change in weather (the clients still had to pay her but that wasn't the point) Klaus had returned home in an uncharacteristically cheerful mood, he and his partners having just landed a particularly large client at their law firm.

It was a challenge remaining in such bad spirits especially when Klaus returned home a bottle of expensive champagne in tow, insisting on taking Caroline somewhere upmarket and outlandishly expensive to celebrate and lift her spirits. After a glass of said champagne - two more at the restaurant - and a plate of overpriced seabass, Caroline felt far more agreeable, the unfortunate events of the day at the back of her mind and in a much better state of mind to indulge Klaus as he took pleasure in describing, step by step the method he and Stefan employed to lure in and ‘hook, line and sinker’, as it were, the client. He would never be so candid with anyone else about the tactics he employed in business but after nearly five years of marriage, there was no one he trusted more.

Once they returned home Klaus’ good mood didn’t diminish. Having had considerably more to drink than she had, he was all hands and illicit touches (which was usually the denouement of one of Klaus’ ‘good moods’). Which Caroline didn’t mind at all considering how busy both of their schedules had been recently and the lack of time they’d had for intimacy.

After particularly, athletic round culminated in them both passing out from exhaustion, they came to eventually and ended up nestled beside each other. tangled in the sheets enjoying what Caroline believed to be a pleasant end to an otherwise hellish day. When the phone rang Caroline’s lax muscles and Klaus’s wandering hands and lips (despite him being utterly spent) told her to ignore it. But out of human instinct, she got up and crossed the room, stark naked, ignoring Klaus’s salacious look as she did; answering the phone on the off chance that it was an emergency and God forbid someone had died.

She hadn’t expected Elijah’s grave voice on the other end of the line, his usually polished tone of voice and impeccable grammar forgone; the unmistakable sound of whom Caroline believed to be Rebekah crying gently in the background. Passing the phone over to Klaus, she wrapped herself in the sheets sensing something grave and foreboding. Klaus’s expression changed and answers became more and more monosyllabic, save for the brief “I’ll be there immediately,” he promised Elijah down the phone. Slowly he rose from the bed and began to dress without so much as a glance at Caroline.

When the call ended, Caroline struggled, to get a straight answer from Klaus and only held back from snapping at him in frustration because she sensed he was upset by whatever it was Elijah had said. Piece by piece, sentence by sentence she extracted the story out of him

“Something’s happened”

“Elijah and Rebekah are at the hospital”

“Kol is on his way”

“They need me there”

“Yes all of them are fine”

“No, it’s not my mother”

“Yes”

The question matching Klaus’ last answer was: “Mikael?”

A name that had become somewhat of a curse word in their house. Since the early stages of their relationship, Caroline had steadily gained an understanding of Klaus complex relationship with his father and with his family in general. To say it was a lot to take in was an understatement.

It wasn’t as if Caroline had no experience of dysfunction within families. Caroline herself was a child of divorce. Her father had left the family after realizing he was gay well into his late thirties which would have been fine had he and his partner not moved several miles away and Caroline actually heard from him regularly on occasions that weren't her birthday or Christmas. Liz Forbes had tried her best at raising her alone, this Caroline knew but being the sheriff in the small town Caroline had grown up in meant that, for want of a better word, she was absentee in the majority of Caroline’s life especially post-childhood.

Her two best friends were no stranger to dysfunction either. Bonnie’s mother had left her at birth and left her to be raised by her grandmother (who was sectioned eventually due her firm claims that she was a witch who could make contact with the dead) and her father who shared Liz’s unfortunate dedication to his job as the town Mayor. Not only did Bonnie’s mother leave she also adopted a brand new family which included a son who Bonnie nearly ended up, dating but that was another story.

Poor Elena and her brother were orphaned by a car crash that killed their parents. Following this was a large string of guardians who were all varying degrees of unsuitable: from their uncle John, a raging alcoholic who turned out to be a fascist too; to their well-meaning aunt Jenna a struggling student who also died after an altercation with a vengeful ex-boyfriend; to their history teacher, Alaric a family friend who’s ex-wife turned out to be Elena’s birth mother (yeah) and John’s drunken teenage one night stand who had given up Elena to the Gilberts, married Ric later in life and subsequently divorced him to join some sort of cult and shack up with a dude who actually turned out to be one of Elena’s future boyfriends but again - another story for another day...

Klaus’ family history was equally as complex and disturbing if not more so. His father Mikael had been abusive, a drinker and an all-around tyrant; terrorizing his wife and children but harboring a specific hatred for Klaus who was always the main target when Mikael had one of his ‘episodes’. It was later revealed that Klaus was illegitimate, the product of an affair between his mother, Esther and one of her former lovers. Although Mikael’s behavior prior to this realization was never explained, the violence only worsened from then on. Although his siblings were rarely ever on the direct receiving end of Mikael’s rage, they had a front row seat watching Mikael batter and abuse both their mother and sibling day in and day out.

The family’s issues, however, ran far deeper than that. Esther (perhaps as a result of the abuse, perhaps not) was cold, manipulative and deceptive. Often playing the children against each other, especially Klaus’s eldest brother Finn, the most susceptive to her ploys.

While she neglected some of her children, mainly Rebekah and Kol and doted on others (Finn for his loyalty and Klaus perhaps out of guilt for how he was conceived and Mikael’s treatment of him) her eldest daughter Freya was handed over to Esther’s equally as emotionally unbalanced sister Dahlia during her separation from Mikael at the beginning of their marriage. His violence had manifested for the first time during their relationship and although she was unwilling to leave him, she worried about bringing a child into their unstable situation (despite going on to give Mikael six more) and thus depriving Freya of growing up with her siblings and leaving her with an Aunt who would be both emotionally and physically abusive to her.

Needless to say, the Mikaelson’s were an intense bunch, all with deviating forms of codependency on one another, paranoia, alcoholism and emotional damage. They didn’t give Caroline an easy time by any means, however, one by one, they reluctantly began to warm to her once it became apparent she wasn’t going anywhere.

Klaus being the most paranoid and emotionally damaged of all should have set off alarm bells in Caroline’s head and sent her running for the hills. To this day she couldn’t decide if it was her falling in love with him or her strong, stubborn urge not to let Klaus and his defensiveness, mood swings, and tantrums scare her away. But somewhere along the line, her neuroticism and his childhood trauma met half way and they ended up building a life together, relatively void of drama - well that was a lie. But they were happy at the very least.

Klaus had effectively cut his stepfather, his mother, Finn and anyone particularly disagreeable swiftly out of his life like a tumor as soon as he was old enough to no longer be dependent on his family. That evening as they clambered into Klaus overstated, secret service style SUV to ride to the hospital, Caroline knew that the only reason Klaus was even going was for his siblings, mainly Rebekah. The other Mikaelson’s may not have had the best relationship with Mikael but grief was a strange thing and his death was sudden and understandably quite upsetting.

Rebekah had always been quite sensitive and - as if forcing six children into a miserable existence wasn’t enough - there was a 7th Mikaelson: Henrik, an eleven-year-old who was still in Esther’s custody even though the others were all of age (and had tried - unsuccessfully - to take Henrik out of Esther's grasp despite the fact that he was largely raised by nannies and Esther and Mikael had long since divorced). Klaus really had no other choice but to be there, they stuck together Caroline understood that. Still, in the dim light of the car, Klaus was hard to read. Tentatively she reached out and placed her smaller hand over his as he used the other one to drive. Klaus didn’t look up but squeezed it.

The funeral was quite possibly the worst Caroline had ever been too - and she’d been to a lot. The majority of which were for members of Elena’s family.

When they arrived, the church was, strikingly empty, bar the family and a few stuffy looking, middle-aged men, who sat at the back (business associates of Mikael Caroline assumed). The minister got caught in traffic and was nearly an hour late. Kol, in addition, arrived at the service inebriated.

Esther sat at the front of the church in sunglass and a fur coat and refused to speak to anyone but Finn. Henrik was thankfully spared from the entire horrible affair (he was sent to a friend’s home for a sleepover) and frankly Caroline envied him.

Despite them being on relatively good terms after years of petty adversary, Rebekah was a raging bitch towards her during any attempt Caroline made to comfort her. Between venom laced insults mostly directed at her (and at one point even the insistence that she leave) Rebekah was a loud sobbing wreck the entire day and if Caroline didn’t know better she’d say that Rebekah was using the tragedy to garner copious amounts sympathy and draw attention to herself.

Going back to Kol, he spent the entirety of the surface putting Jack Sparrow to shame with the amount of whiskey he was able to imbibe from the silver flask tucked in his breast pocket. Freya and Elijah between them, acted as a silent force of calm amongst the disarray both looking the appropriate amount of remorseful. Considering though, they were two of Mikael’s oldest children, having suffered the longest, out of all their siblings Caroline couldn’t quite tell how deep their sadness ran respectively and whether they were just putting on a brave face for their younger siblings (Freya additionally for Finn as they’d always been close).

Klaus remained unreadable. With Rebekah glued to his arm, Caroline was forced to trail behind after him, avoiding the others (Kol was unpredictable intoxicated, Elijah was polite in the best of situations, eerily cold int the worst - and she’d never liked Finn). Although, every now and then Freya would offer her polite conversation

“Thank you for being here”

“Niklaus is lucky to have you”

“There’s space in my car, come with me”

which Caroline was immensely grateful for.

The burial was equally as disastrous as the funeral. Kol point blank refused to do his job as one of the pallbearers (besides he wasn’t sober enough to walk in the first place) and everyone knew better than to ask Klaus so they were short two men and had to awkwardly solicit the help of one of Mikael’s business buddies who had obviously come purely out of politeness and for the sake of keeping up appearances and were reluctant, to say the least.

Esther made a show of spitting in Mikael’s grave once he was lowered into the ground (cue more loud sobbing from Rebekah). Kol had to be ushered inside and had to be babysat by Elijah, likely out of a fear he’d fall in the gaping hole in the earth and to put the shiny cherry on top of the cake the burial came grinding to a resounding halt as the groundskeeper approached the party, apologising profusely because actually, the plot of land they’d chosen was unstable and prone to sinking (whatever that was) so Mikael’s body being put into the earth had to be postponed.

It could have been her imagination but Caroline could have sworn she heard Esther scoff and whisper to Finn “Do you see? Not even hell wanted him”.

It was hours later before she was alone with Klaus. They sat in the car, after making their goodbyes. Klaus had kept his promise and done the one thing she’d requested of him, by not drinking at the funeral or after since he insisted on driving (and she knew all too well what sort of Klaus he became when he drank). When he didn’t start the engine Caroline didn’t comment, thinking he needed a moment. Out of politeness - and because she couldn’t think of anything to say to comfort someone who probably didn’t even want to be comforted (because he wasn’t grieving over Mikael right?) - Caroline rifled around in her purse for a little while until the silence became too much to ignore.

She was about to propose that she do the driving on the way home because honestly, she could use the distraction when Klaus made a noise that as if something was stuck in his throat. Caroline recoiled in surprise as he drew back his fist and slammed it down violently on the steering wheel.

“Klaus!?” she exclaimed, mostly out of shock and partly anger. He was upset, she knew his feelings would manifest one way or another - he wasn’t as good as keeping them bottle up as he thought - but there was only so much Caroline could take. Klaus gasped and slumped forward of over the steering wheel, tears streaming down his face which was now red as he struggled unsuccessfully to catch his breath.

“Klaus-” Caroline attempted to soothe him, hesitantly reaching out to stroke the side of his face, feeling that he was trembling as he did.

“I hate him,” Klaus hissed “I hate him. He’s dead. I should be free.”

Caroline shifted further towards him on her seat and pulled him by his shoulder until his head rested in her lap.

Outside the car, it was nearly pitch black. Elijah’s home, where the Mikaelsn’s had returned after the service, was on an isolated street and Caroline doubted anyone would be coming out of the house anytime soon.

“He was your father,” Caroline whispered softly, stroking the sand colored curls on his head gently. “He was a monster, he was a terrible man who did unforgivable things but he was your father. The only one you’ve ever had and you can’t erase that by hating him.”

“Him dying was never going to give you instant closure. He’s always going to be a part of you but you have to learn to accept what happened and move on. In the meantime Klaus, you’re allowed to feel. Anger, sadness-”

Klaus shook his head vehemently.

“-Regret,” Caroline insisted. “All of those things, you’re human Klaus. Please don’t do what he did and repress your feelings until they build and you end hurting someone you care about.”

At her words, Klaus lifted his head abruptly and his greyish eyes locked with her’s.

“You know I would never hurt you,” he said softly, but with ardent determination.

Caroline gave a soft nod and pushed the car door open.

“Get out,” she said, “I’m taking us home.”

#klaroline #klaroline fanfiction #klaus x caroline #klaroline shippers club #klaus and caroline #kc #klaroline drabbles #klaroline drabble #angst #the mikaelsons #fanfiction #klaroline stan club #Anonymous

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fyrapartnersearch · 5 years ago

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i'll wait for you inside the bottom of the deep blue sea

Alias: Aali Age: 27 Gender: Female Personality: I like to think I'm pretty easy going and easy to get along with. I make a lot of jokes and may or may not send you lots of memes and cat pictures once we build up a decently familiar relationship with each other. I like having someone to chat with on and off through the day, and I love swapping ideas, music, inspiration, etc. I get anxious if I feel like I'm always the one starting convos, so I appreciate a partner who isn't shy either and enjoys chatting as well. About Me: Hmm, let's see. I've been RPing in and off for like 14 years now. I'm currently on a site I love, but I'm looking for a private buddy (or several) to explore some different character ideas and plots I've got rumbling around in my mind and to keep my muse up. I almost exclusively RP original characters in a supernatural setting, though I'm willing to push my comfort zone every once on awhile for the right plot. I like my stories dark and angsty, pushing characters to the very limit to see whether they rise or fall. I like to balance this with a healthy dose of dark humor and occasional moments of light to break the tension. I like going in with a rough plot idea, but keeping things very loose so that the characters themselves are the one driving the ship. I need a partner with strong willed, fully formed characters who can surprise me and push the plots in new directions. Basically, partner is the operative word there. Do you like to use messengers to chat? Yep, I'm on discord in my phone on off throughout the day. Basically, I might not always be able to respond immediately but I'll get back to. How long have you been roleplaying? 14 years or so About Roleplaying What is the plot (or plots) that you'd like to play out with someone? Alright, so I have a semi specific sort of plot that I'm going for, and this is what I have for it so far: In a deeply forested area in the southern United States, a group of over 100 people has recently cut off contact with the outside world. Even before this, rumors have been swirling about them for quite some time, whispers of cult hidden in plain sight, spiriting away friends and family members, never to be heard from again. What no one knows is that there is something far more sinister at play then religious zealotry. Long story short, a cult that is slowly upping the ante on their fanaticism runs off and creates a forest commute, only to unearth some sort of supernatural being or curse along the way that starts eating them from the inside out. This is a horror heavy plot, with room for both psychological horror and more straightforward gore and violence. Character A (my character): A troubled mercenary sort, hired by a local to find a family member who had ran away with the cult. Still recovering from a traumatic, supernatural experience from her past, she soon finds herself trapped within the forest right along with the group, outnumbered, facing something far worse than a charismatic, slick tongued cult leader. Character B (your character): Whatever you want! Really, the only thing I want is that they're attached to the cult in some way. Either a high ranking member, the person my character is looking for, the person who asked for her help in the first place, or hell, maybe even the cult leader themself, trying to stay afloat but slowing losing their members to some hideous force. Really make it your own. That's just the beginning if what I have so far, but I'm totally into the idea of multiple characters, intervweaving plots, all kinds of fun stuff. I would definitely like to play with the more human, sinister side of a cult like power dynamics, strange rituals, emotional manipulation, as well as supernatural horror, and I kind of see this as a slow build from one to the other. Hell, there's room for romance, friendship, and everything in between. My goals are kind of lofty lol. How often do you generally post? I'd say once a week would be a safe bet, but more or less depending on life. I think it's all about communication, and I will be open with you if you're open with me. I absolutely adore rapid fire, but very rarely have the time for it anymore. That said, if it happens from time to time that'd be lovely. How much do you generally post? 600 words or so would be my average, I suppose, but I can write much more or less depending on needs. I can be wordy, for sure, and i really like exploring the internal side of characters along with the physical. You'll definitely be getting a peak into my characters head. Do you like to write in first person or third person? Third Who are your favorite playbys (PBs)? I don't have a super strong preference any one way. I prefer not just having a slew of models though; I like fcs with something quirky or interesting to look at about them. I'm cool with no fcs either. What playbys (PBs) do you hate? See above. What rating are you comfortable with? 3/3/3 How do you feel about writing out graphic scenes such as violence, drug use, and sex? All about it. All three will likely feature heavily in this plot and my writing in general, particularly violence and substance abuse. As for smut, I only really feel the need to write it if it's something that progresses the character relationship or dynamic. I'm just as soon to fade to black if it's smut for thr sake of smut, but I do see the importance of exploring it in certain instances as well. How do you want to be contacted?

Email: [email protected]

Anything else? I might, just maybe, be open to discussing other plots involving similar themes (cat and mouse, toxic relationships, residual effects of trauma, manipulation, etc.), but please don't contact me if you just want me to play a dude for a fluffy romance. I have no problems playing any kind of character, but too often I find the plots I'm searching for ignored and something not even in the same ballpark thrown at me instead. I want something with teeth.

#independent roleplay #multiple paragraph #email #submission

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