#instead of pressuring myself to meet expectations that I may never meet

[wonlvures]

FALLING FOR YOU ୨୧ - SIM JAEYUN

PAIRING: idol!Jake x Idol!reader

SYNOPSIS: you and Jake secretly have a thing for each other when you guys are idols and have a secret relationship

GENRE: fluff, romance

AUTHORS NOTE: this was highly requested by a generous user!

Jake had always known that being an idol would come with its fair share of challenges—late nights, early mornings, grueling schedules, and fans who loved him unconditionally. But there was one thing he hadn’t expected when he first entered this world: to meet someone who didn’t seem to care about any of that.

It happened on the set of a variety show. Jake, along with his group, had been invited to participate in a cooking challenge against another group of idols, and Y/N was the one chosen to co-host and judge. She had been in the industry for a while, but not in the same group as Jake. He had seen her on TV, admired her work, but he never imagined their paths would cross in such a casual way.

The cameras rolled, and the challenge began. Jake, known for being a bit of a perfectionist, was focused on the task at hand, but there was something about the way Y/N smiled and teased the contestants that caught his attention. She was sharp, quick-witted, and radiated a warm, approachable energy that made everyone around her relax. Jake noticed, too, that she didn’t treat him like a star. While others hesitated or were overly polite, she was relaxed with him—like they were just two people doing their jobs.

During the break between filming, they ended up sitting next to each other. Y/N turned to him with a grin.

“You know, I’m actually kind of impressed by your cooking skills. I thought idols couldn’t cook.”

Jake laughed, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “I may not be a chef, but I can follow a recipe. Plus, I’ve been living on takeout too long. I had to learn something.”

Y/N’s eyes twinkled with amusement. “I totally get it. If I didn’t learn how to cook, I’d be living on ramen forever.”

As the conversation flowed easily, Jake realized just how down-to-earth she was. She didn’t talk about her fame or her achievements. Instead, she asked about his hobbies, his favorite food, and even complained about the exhaustion of being in the industry. It was refreshing. She wasn’t fawning over him, or putting him on a pedestal—she just treated him like a regular person, which, for Jake, felt rare.

When filming wrapped up, they exchanged numbers to keep in touch for future shows. Jake didn’t think much of it at the time—he figured it was just part of the job. But over the next few weeks, he found himself looking forward to her messages.

Their texts started off small—simple messages about scheduling, a funny meme here and there, or asking each other for advice about their upcoming performances. But something shifted as the days went on. They began to open up more. Y/N shared her worries about the pressures of being an idol—how fans’ expectations sometimes felt suffocating. Jake, in turn, confessed his own struggles with the constant demand to be perfect, to always smile, to always give his best even when he was running on empty.

It was during one of these late-night conversations that Jake found himself looking at his phone, fingers hovering over the keyboard, uncertain of what to say. He had never been the type to wear his heart on his sleeve, but there was something about Y/N that made him want to.

He typed, then deleted, then typed again.

Jake: "I know we’ve only known each other a little while, but... I feel like I can actually be myself around you. And I’ve been thinking about you a lot lately."

Y/N’s response came just a few moments later.

Y/N: "Jake, I feel the same way. I’ve never really had a chance to connect with anyone like this in the industry. It’s... kind of nice."

Jake felt a weight lift off his chest. For the first time in a long while, he felt like he was talking to someone who wasn’t interested in his status as an idol but in him—the person behind the image.

It wasn’t long before they started meeting up in person. Sometimes it was after a late-night show or a photoshoot, where they’d steal a few quiet moments for themselves. They didn’t have to go to fancy restaurants or glamorous locations. It was the small things that mattered—grabbing bubble tea together, walking around the park after a long day, or just sitting in a cafe and talking about everything and nothing at all.

One evening, after a particularly exhausting day of filming, Jake texted her again.

Jake: "Hey, I don’t know about you, but I’m about ready to collapse. Want to meet up for a quick bite? Somewhere quiet?"

Y/N read the message and smiled, already feeling the same fatigue, but also the familiar pull of wanting to see him again. There was something comforting about being with Jake—something that allowed her to forget about the bright lights and the pressure for just a little while.

Y/N: "Sounds perfect. Meet you at the usual place?"

They met at a small, out-of-the-way restaurant, a little hole-in-the-wall that had become their spot. It was the kind of place where no one cared who they were or what they did for a living. No flashing cameras, no eager fans. Just food, laughter, and quiet moments together.

As they sat down, Jake looked at her across the table, watching the way she pushed her hair behind her ear, a habit she had when she was nervous or thinking.

“I’ve been meaning to tell you something,” he said, his voice softer than usual. “Lately, I’ve realized I look forward to our conversations more than anything. It’s... it’s strange, but it feels different with you. Like I can finally relax.”

Y/N felt her heart flutter, her chest tightening with an unfamiliar warmth. She had thought about Jake a lot too—about how easy it was to talk to him, how much she enjoyed his presence, and how it felt like they were falling into something that was beyond just friendship.

“Jake,” she started, her voice a little more nervous than she intended, “I feel the same way. You’re... different from everyone else I’ve met. I feel like I can just be myself.”

There was a long pause, and Jake’s gaze softened. Then, almost as if he had been holding his breath, he leaned in slightly.

“Y/N, I like you. I’ve been thinking about it for a while now, and I—"

Before he could finish, Y/N reached across the table, placing her hand on his.

“I like you too,” she said, her smile genuine and a little shy. “I’ve been trying to figure out when the right moment would be to say it, but I guess... now’s as good a time as any.”

Jake laughed softly, the tension in his body releasing. He didn’t need to say anything more—he could see it in her eyes. They had both been tiptoeing around something that had always been there, and now, it felt like they had finally crossed that invisible line.

From that night forward, their relationship deepened. They still had their moments of uncertainty—moments when the pressure of being public figures weighed heavily on them. But through it all, they kept finding ways to support each other, even when the world seemed too loud or too demanding.

They continued to meet in secret, sharing quiet moments in the midst of their busy lives. Sometimes they would slip away for a quick coffee, other times they would sit in the park at night, talking about their hopes for the future, about what they wanted for themselves and each other.

One afternoon, after a particularly grueling practice, Y/N found herself waiting for Jake outside the practice room. When he stepped out, exhausted but smiling, she couldn’t help but laugh.

“Are you always this tired?” she teased.

Jake grinned, his eyes bright despite the exhaustion. “Pretty much. But it’s worth it when I get to see you.”

Y/N smiled, feeling her heart flutter once again. It was in moments like these that she realized how much they had changed each other—not as idols, but as people. Jake wasn’t just the idol she had admired from afar; he was someone she could trust, someone who understood the difficulties of their world and who was willing to take the time to show her that there was more to life than just the spotlight.

And as for Jake, he had never imagined that something so simple, so pure, could grow out of the chaos of their shared world. But with Y/N by his side, he began to believe that maybe, just maybe, there was a chance for love to bloom amid the flashing cameras and the noise.

Their love wasn’t something they shouted from rooftops or shared on social media—it was something they kept close, something between the two of them. But in their hearts, it was more than enough.

Together, they learned that sometimes the most unexpected connections are the ones that last the longest.

[cumikering]

Toxic Phillip Graves x reader

3.4k | angst, suggestive The commander with plenty of years ahead of you never saw you like you saw him, not even close

Next to the large window of the coffee shop, you sat with your book. You sipped your latte – the latte your cousin raved about endlessly the past month that tasted closer to milk. She wasn’t a coffee drinker evidently.

“’Scuse me, miss. Would you mind if I sit here?”

You looked up at the owner of the smooth, southern voice. The man wore an easy smile – too easy, like he knew he looked good. Your eyes wandered past him, to the many empty tables before meeting his blue ones again.

“Sorry, I’m Phillip. I couldn’t help noticing your read.” He held out his copy of the exact same book. This is Where I Leave You by Jonathan Tropper.

You gave him a polite smile. “Go ahead.”

“Not my usual read, but it resonates with me.” He sat and placed his cup of tea on the table before cracking his book open where his steel bookmark lay. “He shouldn’t have led her on,” he commented.

“But her story wouldn’t have started otherwise.”

He smiled. “That’s true.”

Phillip ordered you another drink as you discussed your common interest in literature. Before you could finish the tea, the alarm on his phone went off.

“It was such a pleasure meeting you, miss, but I’ve got a plane to catch.” He placed his bookmark back in his copy.

It was then that you noticed the scar across his right cheek. As if the cause had the full intention of ripping him off the Earth – like a personal vendetta, but divine intervention let it bolt past, catching the cuff of his ear instead.

“Would it be alright to call you sometime? Maybe we can meet again when I find myself in town.”

You put your number in his phone, not expecting anything to come out of it. Not from a chance meeting with a charming man more than a few years older than you.

But days later, Phillip asked if you’d finished the book. You spoke on the phone for half an hour, listening to his analysis of the characters. He was sharp, brilliant, eloquent. It showed that he was well-read and took pride in it.

He was initially vague about his job, saying he travelled a lot. You didn’t think it mattered at all what he did. He was an online friend who was into the same things as you were. A month later when he told you he was the CEO of a private military company, you weren’t surprised at all. It was plain in the way he carried himself, his poise and decisiveness. The way he filled a room to the brim even when he didn’t try to.

Over the months, he mailed you books to read and discuss once a week. Then twice, and thrice and the calls grew more frequent, longer, later. Quieter, deeper.

He became more than a name on your screen, more than a voice at the other end of the line at nightfall. Your conversations bled into the daylight. You felt less like a secret, more like a part of his life. Like an affirmation that, maybe, you were not the only one in the liminal space.

Thinking of you, sweetheart.

Always love hearing from my woman during the day.

Your man is having some good lunch. Wish you were here to share it with.

You make me feel like I may be close to some, but never close enough.

I’ll show you how much you mean to me when we meet again.

“You promise?” you asked one day.

“I make guarantees,” he affirmed without missing a beat. “I’ll have the last week of this month off.  Why don’t you fly here? I’ll take care of your flights and hotel.”

“Are you serious?”

“Of course.”

“I’ve never done this before… Flown to meet anyone.”

“No pressure, darlin’. You mean a lot to me, you know that? Don’t want you doing anything you don’t want to.”

You booked your flights and hotel. You weren’t going to be a freeloader even that you knew it would have meant nothing to him judging by the suit he showed up at the airport in. You wanted to cry when you saw him and his boyish smile, carrying a large bouquet of roses and a sign of your name. You ran into his open arms.

“What are you doing dressed up like that?” you asked with a chuckle when you pulled away.

He kissed the top of your head. “Taking my darlin’ out on a dinner date.”

He helped with your suitcase to his grey SUV and waited for you to get ready in your room before taking you to a skyscraping French restaurant. Sat next to the floor-to-ceiling window, you couldn’t take your eyes off the view, the shadows of the city dainty against the gold seeping into deep purple.

“Gorgeous, huh?” He placed his hand on yours, making your turn to him. “I knew you’d like it. We can come back whenever you want.”

“I love it, Phil.” You beamed. “Thank you so much.”

“Anything for my darlin’.” He took your hand to his lips before raising his champagne flute. “To us.”

You clinked yours against his.

At your door, he asked if he could kiss you. You nodded, not meeting his blue eyes as you bit down a smile. He called you when he was in bed, and when you both refused to hang up, you wondered what kept you from staying at his instead.

Phillip spent the next two days taking you around the city and walking you to your room at the end of the night with a kiss, which lasted longer each time.

Darling, I need to take care of something on base. Would it be fine if you’re on your own for the day? His text read the next morning.

Instead of brunch with him, you wondered around the city on your own, reveling in the tall buildings and how friendly the people were. With a sweet Southern drawl, the older women called you honey, darling and everything else Phillip had called you. It made you miss him more.

As you enjoyed your dinner, your phone buzzed with his call. It didn’t take him long to pull up at the restaurant and give you a peck in front of his SUV. You’d seen photos of him in his full gear, but seeing him in his combat uniform in real life made your cheeks heat up as you held onto his biceps. With vivid eyes and a smirk like that, he was dangerously handsome.

His touch seared when he pushed you against the wall of his entryway, fingers grasping your jaw, as he licked and nipped.

“You kiss better than last night,” he mumbled against you.

You paused at the comment, but he didn’t relent. He hoisted you up, wrapping your legs around his waist as his hands roamed. He carried you to his kitchen, setting you on the counter, icy against the backs of your thighs.

His mouth trailed down the side of your neck, sucking harder at the base than you’re used to, but it hurt so good. You shuddered as a small gasp escaped you. He pulled away with a satisfied smile before setting you down on your feet, turning to open his French door fridge.

You took in his kitchen, All-black, with spotless marble countertops and seamless cabinets.

“What would you like, darlin’?”

“J- Just water, please.”

You were breathless with your cheeks warm when he led you to his living room which looked equally as lavish with the large TV in front of his plush leather couch. When he pulled you onto his lap, you let out a small squeak, making him chuckle.

“You’re always so adorable.” He kissed your cheek.

He put on some football on as he held you close, his hot, wide palm on your mid-thigh, exposed from him pushing your dress up. Every so often, he’d give it a squeeze as he sipped his beer, making your breath hitch.

“Darlin’, it’s getting late. Let’s get you back.” He patted your thigh. “Unless you want to stay? You can pick any room you want.”

He gave you a quick tour of his place, and you picked the room next to his. He gave you toiletries and his clothes for the night, and told you to come to his room when you were ready for bed. You opened his door to him on his bed in sweats, a book on his lap. He motioned for you to sit next to him, and you did, leaning onto his bare chest. You read with him, his arm around you, thumb rubbing your arm occasionally.

“Phil?”

“Yes, darlin’?”

“I just- Well-“ Confidence eluded you as fast as it graced and your heart raced. “Nevermind.”

He laid his book down and turned towards you. “What is it? You know you can tell me anything.”

You felt small having to ask, embarrassed that it was even something that bothered you. But when you looked into his eyes, welcoming with that warm smile, you thought maybe it was alright. It was Phillip after all.

“I wanted to know… What are we?”

He kissed your forehead. “Whatever you want us to be. I’d love to be your man if you let me.”

You smiled, relieved as you nodded.

“Anything for my woman.”

Phillip wasn’t in his room when you woke in his bed the following morning. You figured he was in his office, and he was, with the door open.

He looked up from his computer with a smile. He’d put a t-shirt on, his light brown hair tousled now. You noted he didn’t have his usual cup of coffee with him.

“Good morning, darlin’. Sorry I didn’t mean to leave the bed so early, but I’ve got reports to send.”

“That’s okay.”

“I hope you slept well. Feel free to use the kitchen. I’ll join you when I’m done in a bit.”

You went to his kitchen, the counters lustrous in the morning light. Next to the fridge, something glinted. It was a bottle cap of his favourite beer from the night before, a foreign brand you’d never seen. You put the cap into your sweats pocket - a keepsake of your first visit to his. You made coffee for the both of you, and when you were scouring the cabinets for some sugar-

“Sorry, sweetheart, who are you?”

You gasped, turning to the kitchen entrance where the voice came from. It was a middle-aged woman, carrying grocery bags. She blinked, her smile polite but confused.

“Uhh, Phil?” You looked straight at her with wide eyes, at a loss for words.

“What is it, darlin’?” he replied from a distance.

“Phillip Graves?” the woman called out, voice thundering.

In a second, he rounded the corner.

“Mum. Hey, I wasn’t expecting you.” He took the bags from her hands, placing them on the counter before giving her a hug. “This, uh- this is a friend.” He gestured to you.

“Hi, Mrs. Graves.”

“Good morning, sugar.” She nodded at you, her eyes warmer as she unpacked the bags. “I stopped by to drop off some fruits. I was at the farmer’s market.” Her eyes flicked to you, a playful smile on her lips. “He never has anything in his house other than beer, does he?”

You let out a small laugh, and he had an amused smile as he shook his head.

“I’m still in the middle of something. I’ll finish up real quick.” He left again.

“He’s married to his job,” she commented as she opened the fridge, stocking it with the colourful produce she brought.

“Um, do you know where the sugar is by any chance?”

She turned to you and glanced at the two mugs on the counter. “If he hasn’t had his coffee yet by now, that’s probably because he’s out of sugar.” She smiled. “And you know how much of a sweet-tooth he is.”

You did.

She continued lining the fridge with apples. “He really does run on coffee. He never learnt to cook, that boy. Lucky he’s got you taking care of him.”

Your heart swelled. Did he tell her about you already?

“All done now,” she said, closing the fridge. “Tell him I say bye, will you?”

“Okay.”

She gave you a squeeze and pinched your cheek. “I’ll see you again soon, sugar.”

You beamed as you walked her to the door. She didn’t hate you, and it made you irrationally happy.

“Phil?” You stood at the door to his office. “Your mom just left, told me to tell you bye.”

He beckoned you to come in, and he pulled you to sit on his lap, his hand squeezing your thigh.

“You know why I said you’re a friend, don’t you? I promise I’ll tell her soon.” He gave you an easy smile. “It’s like introducing vegetables to a kid. You gotta do it in small doses.”

“That’s okay, I understand.“ It didn’t bother you seeing how warm she was towards you. Still, you held on to his words.

“Okay, I’m almost done now. I’ll drive you to your hotel to get ready and we’ll go out for lunch.”

As well as the day went, you went ahead of yourself, like you often did when things felt too good. It dawned on you this was a little dream, a fleeting paradise in your ordinary life. Like a ticking bomb, it was going to detonate into a million pieces, and you’ll wake up with nothing but little mice, a pumpkin, a tattered dress and the sweetest memory.

The demon lingered in the backroom of your mind, pounding relentlessly at the door, begging to be set free. You felt like you’d gone too deep, like you shouldn’t even have started with all this.

“What’s going on in that pretty head of yours, hm, darlin’?” Phillip asked when you entered his house, tossing his keys into the entryway bowl.

You couldn’t even fake a smile.

“Did I do something to upset you?” He rubbed your arms and led you to the couch.

He turned your body to him, but you couldn’t meet his eyes. You couldn’t drown the riot in your head.

“Please. If it’s my fault, let me fix it.”

“How is this going to work?” Your eyes flicked to his, continuing in a smaller voice. “We don’t live close at all.”

“Got me worried there,” he exhaled, pulling you to his chest. “You can move here, of course.”

“It’s not that easy, is it?”

“I know it’s not. If I’m honest, I don’t have an answer for that yet.” He sighed as he caressed your hair. Silence lingered before he continued, “You know what my drill sergeant used to say? You can’t fly when you keep worrying about falling out of the sky.”

“You told me.” A smile flickered on your lips.

“We’re just a two-hour flight away from each other. As long as you still want this, don’t think too much of what’s going to come. It will work itself out.” He tilted your face to him by the chin. “We’ll work it all out.”

Perhaps he was right. You just needed to focus on what’s right in front of you. When you asked if you could extend your stay for a few more days, he gave you a peck on the lips.

He held you wordlessly for a long time until he got a call for an emergency meeting. He told you not to wait up if he wasn’t done in an hour. You hadn’t planned on staying the night, but you still had your toiletries from the other day. You got ready for bed and rescheduled your return flight, extending the timer on the proverbial bomb, even just for two more days. You wanted to float in this dream a little longer.

It was past 2 in the morning when your door creaked open. You turned, the dim light from the hallway bleeding into the dark.

“Why are you still up?” he asked, closing the door behind him.

“I should ask you the same thing.”

He turned the bedside lamp on and sat on the bed, holding your hand.

“I’ve been thinking. You’re really special to me, darlin’. I want to work this out. I promise we’ll find a way, okay?”

You choked out a sob. His words like balm to your burning chest. You sat up and wrapped your arms around him.

“You’re so emotional. It’s adorable.” He let out a small laugh as he stroked your back. “I love you.”

When your tears stopped flowing, he laid you down, caging you between his forearms as he kissed you. Your arm wrapped around his neck, a hand cupping his lightly stubbled jaw. You fell into the kiss, into the sensation of his perfect lips. His hand wandered, pinching, squeezing, rubbing, his lips unrelenting, ever intensifying.

You squirmed under him. “Phil, that’s- you’re being a bit rough.”

He pulled away. “My ex liked it this way.”

You appreciated his passion, but the comment didn’t sit right. He stilled for a second before lying beside you in silence. You didn’t know how long you lay there, but in the dark, your eyes blinked open at the click of the door.

Your heart drained, hollow, hanging by a thread like it was going to float away out of your gaping chest any second. What you thought was going to be a comforting night turned unkind, instead leaving you feeling less than. You let out an uneven breath, pulling the comforter closer around you, willing it to drown the ache.

The next morning, Phillip was quiet, not even meeting your eyes as he told you to get ready. It was jarring, when for days it was as if he couldn’t keep his hands off you, but that day felt like he didn’t even want you anywhere near him.

Perhaps he had a lot in mind, maybe something about his meeting the night before – you knew it happened sometimes, but this time, the stillness made you nervous. Rejected, unwanted, out of place. Something was brutally wrong and it hung heavy in the air, it made you hard to breathe.

He finally broke the silence when he pulled up at the hotel lobby. “This isn’t working out.”

You turned to him, not believing your ears. “What?”

“This is a mistake,” he declared.

“But… Last night, we just- You said you loved me.“

“Why are we talking like this is some kind of negotiation? It’s not.”

The harsh tone sent chills down your spine. He’d never used that voice on you.

“I thought you liked sex, sweetheart. Why’d you wear those cute outfits otherwise?” His smirk turned to a frown. “Also, you laugh too loud. It’s off putting.”

You froze in your seat, like you wanted to scream but your voice a prisoner in your throat. Your stomach churned, bitter, singeing.

“You didn’t think this was real, did you? Don’t worry, it’s not like I don’t want to see you again. We’ll get coffee when I visit, okay?”

Your lips quivered as you blinked your tears away, but you were not going to let yourself cry.

“Oh, come on! Don’t start crying now. You’re making me look like the bad guy.” He threw his hands up in exasperation.

Was he not? When he told you all those things, some of the kindest words anyone had ever said to you. When the gold he gave you was brass at heart.

“Fuck you, Graves.” You got out of the car, slamming the door shut. Your tears stained your cheeks as you walked away.

It was the last time you saw or heard from him until two months later.

Hey, just wanted to let you know I’m attached now. We’re visiting next month. Want to meet up?

You regretted not blocking his number. You wiped away the tear that slipped.

Three years later, the universe sprinkled chaos and stirred its pot. You met another Phillip. Your cousin asked if it was the Graves variety. You said no, with a smile brighter than you ever remembered smiling.

This one held your hand and brought you home to meet his mum. This one didn’t bring up his exes when you didn’t ask. This one laughed harder when you cackled.

This one didn’t have to lie about his intentions, because a few years later, his promise of forever came without you even having to ask.

Thanks @shadofireshinobi for making me write this <3

@tiredmetalenthusiast @two-gh0sts @rowanyaboats

[justanapplenothinghere]

MEPHONE4 (PERSONALISED ) CHARACTER ANALYSIS.

I was debating whether to post this after the whole movie was finished however, due to the recent episode I am really scared of all you coming after me because this character is a heavy kin. Please bear that in mind. This work has taken me months to type and analyse. I didn't do everything due to how long this post would end up being. So just the major points were discussed.

Mephone4’s generalised overview:

MePhone4 is one of the main characters in Inanimate Insanity, a popular YouTube object show created by AnimationEpic. As a sentient smartphone, MePhone4 serves as the host of the competition, a role that places him in a position of authority and power over the contestants. His character is defined by a mix of ambition, arrogance, and emotional complexity, which is what makes him one of the more dynamic characters in the series. From a first glance, when watching, some may view him as just a rude and arrogant host with no mental well being of concern for his contestants.

Whilst that might be somewhat true from the start of early episodes into Season 1, he progressively begins to change his character through the course of the other two seasons.As shown for example in Season 3 his attitude begins to change, from a distance the show makes it obvious to us that he DOES CARE about his contestants, just has a hard time expressing such emotions.His character is complex, especially as the series progresses, revealing deeper layers of psychological trauma and emotional conflict.

Mephone4’s background (TW: mentions of abuse/manipulation. As a victim myself of these, this part maybe very detailed.):

MePhone4 was created by the character Steve Cobs (a parody of Steve Jobs), who represents a father figure to him. However, the relationship between MePhone4 and Steve Cobs is strained and toxic. Cobs is demanding and controlling, treating MePhone4 as nothing more than a tool for his own ambitions.The trauma begins with MePhone4's creation, where he is given life, his identity is defined entirely by his purpose to serve others (In other words just Cobs and the Meeple company alone).This lack of agency and the constant pressure to meet Cobs' expectations contributes significantly to MePhone4's psychological issues.

Cobs created MePhone4 with a "highly-advanced emotion emulator," allowing him to experience emotions deeply, unlike other Meeple products. However, instead of focusing on the tasks assigned to him by Cobs, MePhone4 became enamoured with reality TV, which led to disappointment and tension between them. This foundational conflict likely left MePhone4 feeling inadequate and rejected, contributing to his later insecurities and anxieties. His love for competition and showmanship can be seen as a coping mechanism—a way to channel his emotional energy into something he enjoys and excels at, perhaps in an attempt to gain the approval he never received from Cobs.

Most evident in his anxiety and insecurity, which are central to his character. He is often portrayed as anxious about the show's progression and its eventual end, indicating a deep-seated fear of failure or losing purpose.This being evidenced in seeing Mephone3GS.That experience alone caused a sense of realisation he needed to finally leave Meeple.The way Mephone3GS is..that could end up being him in his place. Whilst it is unknown how 3GS gained his scars the best bet to assume it was from / or somehow Cobs did contribute to it himself (Back in typing this before ACT 1 CAME OUT). If that is the case that would explain Mephone’s sudden urgency to leave the company.However, a fascinating factor is Mephone took MEPAD, WITH HIM. That within itself is noble, Mephone could have just left by himself. But he didn’t. That’s the thing. This already shows Mepad’s and Mephone4’s deep level bond to the point Mephone could’ve taken any other Meeple products with him, yet again he specifically took Mepad. He saved him. He saved him from the possible future abuse that could have been inflicted exactly like Cobs has done to Mephone4.Even if Mepad seems somewhat not exactly aware of all the details.

Mephone’s competitive nature may also stem from a need to prove himself, reflecting an internalised pressure to meet expectations that were never fully articulated by Cobs.

Furthermore, MePhone4's "out of sight, out of mind" mentality is a clear indication of his avoidance coping strategy. Instead of confronting his past, especially the painful memories associated with Cobs and Meeple, he chooses to erase them from his system. This physical removal of memories symbolises his desperate desire to escape from the emotional burden they carry. His consideration of re-erasing these memories after they resurface suggests an ongoing struggle with his unresolved trauma. It highlights his inability or unwillingness to process these emotions healthily, leading to a continuous cycle of avoidance and emotional suppression.

Impact on Relationships:

His trauma significantly affects his relationships with others, particularly the contestants and his assistant, Toilet. His lack of regard for the contestants' well-being and his blatant bias during eliminations suggest that his trauma has warped his sense of empathy and fairness. By showing favouritism and making shrewd comments, MePhone4 exerts control over the game in a way that might make him feel more secure or powerful, counteracting his underlying feelings of inadequacy.

His treatment of Toilet, whom he sees as an "unhelpful menace," further illustrates how his trauma manifests in his interactions. MePhone4's disdain for Toilet can be interpreted as a projection of his own insecurities. By belittling Toilet, MePhone4 may be attempting to distance himself from his own perceived flaws and weaknesses. This dynamic reflects how his unresolved issues with Cobs influence his behaviour, leading him to replicate similar patterns of emotional neglect and dismissal.

Mepad:

Relationship between MePhone4 and MePad is characterised by a clear hierarchical structure. MePad is the professional assistant, always respectful and subservient, referring to MePhone4 as "sir" and fulfilling his tasks with precision. This dynamic reflects a classic power imbalance where MePhone4 holds the authority, and MePad exists primarily to serve and support him (Though I do not believe Mephone does so with any malicious intent). MePad's professional demeanour and lack of overt emotional expression reinforce this power dynamic, as MePhone4's emotional volatility is contrasted with MePad's calm and measured responses.

MePhone4's authority over MePad is not just professional but also emotional. MePhone4's insecurities and anxieties often lead him to rely on MePad for solutions and advice, placing MePad in a position of subtle influence despite his ostensibly lower status. This creates a complex dynamic where MePad, though subordinate, becomes a critical emotional anchor for MePhone4, helping to manage his chaotic emotions and the stress of running the show.

Despite claiming that he "can't feel anything," MePad's use of sarcasm and his occasional concern for others indicate a deeper, more nuanced emotional landscape. This suggests that while MePad may not experience emotions in the same way as MePhone4, he has learned to navigate the emotional environment of the show, adopting a dry, ironic tone as a coping mechanism or a way to fit into his role.

MePad's emotional suppression is most evident in his calm and composed demeanour, even in situations where others might express frustration or concern. However, his growing concern for the contestants, particularly Marshmallow, reveals that he is not entirely devoid of emotional response.

The relationship between both of them revolves from one of strict professionalism to something more complex and personal. While MePad starts as a loyal assistant, his actions later in the series suggest a growing sense of independence and moral judgement. His willingness to challenge MePhone4's decisions, as seen when he lies about Marshmallow's whereabouts.

Truth or Flare (ii 15):

MePad's conversation with MePhone4 about quitting the host position of Inanimate Insanity II is a pivotal moment that causes the shift in their relationship. This conversation suggests that MePad is not only concerned with the show's logistics but also with MePhone4's well-being and the overall direction of the series. MePad's ability to confront MePhone4 about such a significant decision reflects a deepening of their relationship, where MePad moves from being a mere assistant to a confidant and advisor, someone who can influence MePhone4's major life decisions..

CONCLUSION:

Whilst many claim and point fingers at Mephone4’s behaviourisms after such a pivotal moment. There is something that must be addressed that I noticed as I am writing this analysis. In this episode, he struggles with handling the pressure of hosting and maintaining control, revealing his insecurities. His tendency to put his own desires above the contestants is a key aspect of his character, as seen when he prioritises entertainment value over fairness. Throughout the episode, MePhone4 becomes increasingly panicked as the game show format starts to unravel, whether that being even something simple as Suitcase trying to reassure Mephone about his past trauma.A pattern I have noticed is that people will try to justify themselves that they hate him because of how he doesn't care about his contestants or his co-hosts. When he clearly does! It is shown subtly throughout the season 2 and 3 he does care, just isn't sure how to show it. The only way he knows is by doing what he is doing. He learnt everything from TV, his views on things will be skewed.He's going to have weird views on what is considered care. Because this man hasn't HAD a single OUNCE of it in his life. He doesn't KNOW what care is, properly.There's a reason why he was suddenly rude and dismissive,there's a reason why he didn't keep answering suitcase,despite suitcase, trying to reassure him that it's okay to talk about it and that she's there for him if nobody else is. Mephone doesn't know how to respond to that. How would he anyway?

If you don't agree with me. Please do NOT come after me. This is just MY personal analysis because he is a heavy kin for me, for a good reason. And It makes me really anxious and REALLY uncomfortable when I see people hunt him down as a character,I am not excusing his actions but I am explaining it.

[prismatica-the-strange]

Death By Anyone's Hand But His Would Taste As Sweet | I Don't Know You, But I Would Love to Meet You

Warnings: 18+, death, franchise typical violence, I still haven't watched much Clone Wars

Anakin and Freida's first meeting

We Should Be Friends by Josh Ramsey | Picrew | Dividers @saradika-graphics

He doesn't know why both he and Obi-Wan were pulled off the frontlines to escort some spoiled princess to Coruscant. Doesn't she already have a private guard for things like this?

Hell, he's never even heard of this planet before.

"Try not to look so cross, Anakin," Obi-wan chides, "We're not here to scare the girl further, she's already been through quite the ordeal."

"I'm sorry, master," He huffs, "I just think my talents would be better used elsewhere."

"I'm sure you do."

He follows the older Jedi off their ship, where they're met by a man with pale blue hair tied back in a short braid and wearing a light-colored tunic.

"Welcome to Jein'ta, Master Kenobi," He greets and Anakin has to be careful to not roll his eyes too obviously at being ignored, "My name is El'Tar Baltwin. If you would follow me?"

He leads them down a pathway and a sudden pressure hits him, and by the look on his face, Obi-Wan feels it too.

"She's strong," His master comments and El'Tar sighs with a heavy nod.

"Yes, that," He says, "You get used to the feeling after a while."

They wait in the foyer of a decently-sized house while their host goes to collect their charge.

He catches the tail end of an argument when he wanders closer to the stairs.

"... don't want to leave. Father please!"

"You have a duty to your people to control this... thing and keep them safe!" He snaps back, "You will go with them, and that's the last I'll hear of it!"

El'Tar looks flustered and annoyed when he comes back, "My daughter will join us in a moment."

A few minutes pass and the pressure changes. The aura proceeding her is suffocating, yet his chest has never felt lighter.

All eyes are on her as she steps out from the stairwell, solemn look on her face. Her pale pink hair is gilded with golden stars and pearls, and the silk skirts of her pastel gown drag the ground at her feet.

"This is my Daughter, Freida," Her father introduces her.

"That's all a bit much to travel in, don't you think?" He blurts out and she finally raises her face to look at him. The timidness in her red-slitted eyes catches him off guard, having expected a bratty retort.

"It's best for our people if we act as though nothing is amiss," Her father answers for her, "She is one of our most-loved priestesses, this is what she shall wear."

"Your Eminence," Obi-Wan smiles at her with a slight bow that Anakin mimics, "I would like to assure you, as long as you are in the care of my padawan and myself, you will have nothing to fear."

"Thank you, Master Kenobi. I put my trust in you," She does her best to return the smile, her voice soft. She glances at him for the briefest second, the faintest hint of a blush on her cheeks, "Both of you."

"My dear, I think it's best you leave as soon as possible."

She feels as though she may cry with the way her father is rushing her to leave all she's ever known like some kind of pariah. But instead, she holds her head high as she follows the Jedi to their ship.

Her friends and neighbors greet her as if it were simply another day and the pain inside her grows.

She stops in her tracks just before stepping into the ship and turns around, taking in her homeworld for the last time for Maker knows how long.

"You coming?" He asks and her shoulders shudder as she tries to hold back tears.

"A moment, please," The way her throat tightens adds a sharpness she didn't intend and he rolls his eyes again. Brat.

"My dear, it's time to go," Obi-Wan tries, much softer than he, and she nods, letting him lead her inside.

"Gentle, Anakin," He says once they start taking off, "This is all new to her, and she's scared."

She's silent for most of the trip and when he turns back to glance at her, her face is blank, devoid of any emotion.

Just as he's about to say something the ship shudders and an alarm on the controls begins to blare.

"What was that?"

"I don't know," He snaps, flicking a switch to turn on a display, "Damnit- There's a ship behind us. I think they're scoundrels."

The rip lurches again.

"Hold onto something!"

He tries his best to get away, but they end up crashing on a nearby frozen moon.

"Your eminence," Obi-wan kneels beside her as Anakin assesses the damage, "Are you alright?"

She's shaken up, but otherwise, "I-I'm fine."

The ship is damaged, and Anakin argues that he can go by himself to a nearby village to get the parts they need, but Obi-wan insists he stay with Freida and the ship.

So he sits across from Freida, arms crossed, miffed because he's been put on babysitting duty.

"So why did your father decide to send you to train with the Jedi now?" He asks after an hour or so.

She looks at him with wide eyes, mouth slightly agape, "I..."

He straightens in his seat when her face falls and her brow furrow, the whole atmosphere becoming heavy.

"I didn't-" She freezes mid sentence, eyes narrowing, "There's someone outside..."

It takes a moment, but he feels it too, the presence of various people lurking outside the ship.

"Stay in here," He says, "I'll take care of it."

"But-"

He turns back to her to see her worried face.

"It'll be alright."

He's busy dealing with blasterfire and scoundrels when he hears Frei, "W-wait!"

He spins around to see one of the pirates with his arm around her throat and a blaster pressed against her temple.

"Pu that Saber away, pretty boy, golden girl's comin with me."

"Let her go."

The man laughs, "And why would I do that? She's going to fetch me a small fortune in the slave tra-"

His voice cuts off and he looks confused. Panic quickly overtakes his features when he realizes he can't breathe and Anakin watches him let her go to claw at his throat before he flies back against a tree.

He quickly pulls her to his side, "I told you to stay in the ship!"

"I did!" She snaps, "He came in and grabbed me! What was I supposed to-"

A laser bolt hits the side of the ship and they both turn to see a barely standing marauder pointing a blaster in their direction, but before either can do anything, a large cat-like creature lands on him, ripping him in two.

Anakin doesn't hesitate to pull her behind him, but she stops him when he goes to activate his lightsaber, moving to stand between him and the creature.

"It's okay," She says softly, more to the beast than him as she raises her hands to show she's not a threat, "It's alright. Everything is fine."

Memories flash in her head. Pain. So much pain and fear. And being crammed in a cage.

"I'm so sorry," She whispers, "But it's okay, now. We won't hurt you."

It's defensive stance slacks slightly and it cocks it's head at her.

Anakin is beyond confused, wondering if this was a skill she taught herself with the force, or if she was just odd.

He shifts behind her when she steps closer and the creature immediately looks at him, back arching with a growl.

"Nono," She tries, reaching out to sooth it with the force, "It's okay, he's not a threat."

He takes action when he sees it rear back, thinking it's going to attack.

"Wait stop!"

He quickly runs it through with his lightsaber, tensing at the strained noise Freida lets out when her connection with it is suddenly severed.

He turns to find her frozen with tears in her eyes, her face contorted in horror.

"Your eminence-"

She falls to her knees in the snow, lips trembling.

"What have you done?" She cries.

"I just saved your life!" He scoffs.

She looks up to glare at him before getting back to her feet.

"It wasn't going to hurt me!"

"And how do you know that, princess?"

"It was just scared and confused!" She yells through tears, hitting his chest, "It was taken from its home by poachers and tortured! You would be too! I was calming it!"

He looks at her with wide eyes, not sure what to say when her anger turns to pain, "You didn't have to kill it."

His anger and annoyance soften when she collapses against his chest as she weeps.

She shivers when a particular hard gust of wind kicks up the snow around then and he lifts her in his arms with little protest.

He settles them in the ship with her on his lap, and he thinks there be more to her mood than a dead beast as she continues to sob into his chest.

He does his best to calm her but as his warm hands rub her back it works a little too well when she soon falls asleep in his arms.

He dares not move once he feels her tail wrap around his calf, not wanting to disturb her.

As the night goes on a blizzard howls to life and he knows Obi-wan likely won't be back until morning.

"Anakin, what do you think you're doing?"

He groans and clings tighter to his pillow.

"Anakin!"

"Sleeping!" He snaps at his master.

"Well yes, I can see that," Obi-wan scoffs, "Is there any particular reason to need to be holding the priestess to do so?"

"What?" He opens his eyes to look at him in confusion when the thing in his arms moves.

Freida nuzzle into his neck, claws digging into his robes as she purrs contentedly in her sleep.

"I! Th-this isn't- I don't know how this..."

She yawns, back arching as she stretches and kneads against his chest, "What’s with all the yelling?"

She blinks the sleep from her eyes and looks at both of them for a moment before she jumps away, her cheeks turning deep purple.

"Would either of you care to explain the bodies I found outside?"

"Well, Master, about that...

[elbarkla]

Check it out everyone, 3 years of art progress! And I wrote a guide for beginners! 😊

Hi! I’m Laura, age 31. I’ve always drawn occasionally, but never really stuck with it. Frankly it stressed me out. I’d draw for a month, then cry a bunch, then quit for a couple more years. But this time I turned it into a habit somehow. I’ve been drawing near-daily since Feb ‘21 and my life is better for it. Art’s a huge part of me now; it affects how I spend my time, how I express myself, and how I see the world. I feel like a happier, more complete human being.

So here’s what worked for me. This is a guide for hobbyists (I don’t have commercial ambitions) and it may or may not work for you. But I hope you can learn something from it regardless. Without further ado, my thesis:

 ~ Laura’s Steps for Drawing A Lot and Hopefully Getting Better ~

 1 – Manage Your Health 

Know what’s bad for your art? Depression! Glad I got around to treating mine. But for real, if you lack self-confidence you might want to check your mental health. It isn’t the sole factor but it can rapidly overtake the others. Every day I see a post like “how do I improve, every time I try to draw I’m overwhelmed with thoughts I’m bad at everything and a burden to the people around me”. That’s relatable but not a healthy way to see yourself. Low self-esteem can be treated. Please consider talking to someone - you’re a wonderful, lovable person and deserve a happy life.

Also, try to get plenty of sleep and eat regular meals; it helps with everything. Exercise is worth a shot too. Going for walks is good for your mind and body. Yes it’s boring, but boredom gives you space to imagine things.

 #2 – Make It Fun

You’re taking this too seriously. Yes, you. It’s just a hobby. Take the pressure off. Have fun.

What does that mean? It means you need to make art approachable. It has to be a comfort hobby you’re naturally drawn to. That means killing all thoughts of what you SHOULD do. If it makes you want to draw, go for it. Anime characters? Pretty ladies? Fanart? Furries? Doodles from imagination? Zentangles? Pencils? Digital? Do it. If drawing the “right way” burns you out, draw things the wrong way instead. You know who draws a lot? Children. You know who doesn’t draw super well? Children. Have that mindset. Draw like a child. Don’t compare yourself to others; just enjoy the process of creating something. You had that ability once and I know you can reacquire it.

 Intimidated by an empty sketchbook? Don’t wanna ruin a white page? That’s OK; find something you don’t mind ruining. Grab a half-used notebook and a ballpoint pen. You EXPECT those to look horrendous. If you can have fun filling that notebook, you can have fun drawing regularly, and if you draw regularly you can slowly improve your art. It happened to me. I went from rarely drawing to wanting to do it every day. I still sketch in ballpoint now; it’s fun and comfortable.

Also, if drawing’s NOT fun? That’s OK too! There’s loads of ways to express creativity; go do do one of those. For me it was The Sims 3, then knitting, then drawing. Find something accessible and build your confidence up. The world needs bonsai trees and Minecraft castles just as much as drawings. <3

#3 – Seek Instruction

You’ve made drawing a habit, congratulations! You’ve probably learned heaps already; it’s natural to work out techniques as you go. But deducing art wisdom from scratch isn’t super efficient. There’s no need to reinvent the wheel when you can learn so much from others.

You can do a paid course (great way to meet people), but you don’t have to. All the information’s free on the internet! Teachers will cover the same things in different ways or from different perspectives. There’s no exclusive knowledge; the more you study, the more overlap you’ll notice. It all comes together for a more complete understanding of fundamental concepts.

Here’s some of my favourite resources (currently all available free online)(except the Winslow one which was taken down, boo):

  r/artfundamentals, ie. drawabox.com . A great starter course on how to hold a pen, draw lines, build forms and so on. You can follow structured lessons or just practice whatever you need to.

How to Draw: Drawing and Sketching Objects and Environments from Your Imagination, by Scott Robertson. This book’s the gold standard on perspective and great for technical thinkers. It gets VERY advanced but there’s basic stuff to learn from as well. If the textbook intimidates you, try this excellent video playlist by Dan Beardshaw. He walks you through the same concepts in a simple approachable manner. Vital information if you want your work to look 3D.

anything by Andrew Loomis. He’s an icon for a reason; the Loomis head is a standard art tool to this day. I also enjoy the anachronistic career advice (“all advertisers will pay for a well-drawn head” or whatever it was). Here’s the ones I’ve read and enjoyed:

Fun with a Pencil

Figure Drawing for All It’s Worth

Drawing The Head and Hands

Creative Illustration (my current fave, great for composition)

Classic Human Anatomy in Motion, by Valerie L. Winslow. Hot take – people who say “learn anatomy” to beginners are idiots. SO MANY fundamentals come before anatomy if you wanna draw good-looking characters. You’ll get better results studying proportion, form, gesture, shapes and composition first. But if/when you want to learn bones and muscles, this is the book for you! It’s probably overkill, but I loved the breakdown of facial muscles and how they create expression. Top-tier reaction image material.

Proko!! Fabulous Youtube channel. Not only is Stan a great teacher, he invites on other artists too. Just go to his search bar and plug in a keyword; you’ll always find something helpful. I recommend his channel if you want to draw humans (loads of gesture, forms, proportion, anatomy etc.), but there’s a video or two on everything. Some of my other favourite videos:

Mind-Blowing Realistic Shading Tricks. Simple effective intro to light and shadow, I still go back and learn from it.

How to Draw Dynamic Shapes – FORCE Series Part 3. So compelling I bought the book afterwards. Blew my mind, instantly improved all my shapes and in turn my composition and gesture.

Painting Skin Tones and How Light Affects Color. Marco Bucci’s a genius with colours, he explains value and saturation in such fascinating ways.

Digital Shape Carving with Scott Flanders – good companion to the shading video above, teaches dramatic silhouettes and cel-shading within a really interesting workflow.

Google. Any question. Throw it in. Someone’s made a video or reddit post about it. You’d be surprised! I swear, the number of times I’ve typed “composition tips” or “digital watercolour clip studio paint” or “how draw horse head”.

Remember, take it easy. Don’t burn yourself out. Back off if you feel the tears creeping in. Study should supplement your drawings, not replace them. If in doubt, revert to step 2 – “bad” art is better than no art.

4– Study Life

If you did step 3 you’re way ahead of me on this one. USE REFERENCES. Draw things from photos (or real life if possible). Fill your brain with visual information. Here’s a thread I made for sharing references of humans.

What if you prefer to draw from imagination? That’s fine – try a hybrid approach. Doodle whatever comes to you, then look up references and try again. For example I’ll doodle a bear, then draw from photos of bears, then doodle new bears using the things I learned. It’s fun and also a good way to test your knowledge. You may also enjoy combining different references; eg drawing animal fusions, combining poses with an outfits etc. It gets easier to do the more you practice.

Between art pieces I keep a balance between drawing from imagination, drawing from reference, following art lessons, and studying other artists. Speaking of which –

5 – Study Art

Ever heard “Don’t draw anime until you’ve learned anatomy?” or “Learn the rules before you break them?” I strongly disagree with both of those statements. Fundamentals are great but there’s never a point you stop learning them, and studying life won’t teach you how to stylise. That’s why you also need to learn from your favourite artworks. This gets easier/more efficient as you build your broader art skills, but you can learn styles at any point of your art journey (see – step 2). In fact, it makes study more enjoyable, since stylised art can look better and feel more “you”. You already know what you want to create– why not start now?

Let’s take anime as an example. That’s a huge genre with loads of variation. So, what’s your personal taste? Round and cute, or sharp and serious? Choose your favourite shows and study how they do it. Observe their lines, shapes and proportions. Then try it yourself. Make fanart. Not only is replication good art practice in general, it’ll teach you a bunch of new tricks. For original work, pull from loads of sources, the more diverse the better. Work in your love for Silver Age comics or medieval tapestries or German expressionism. The more places you learn from, the more unique and personal your style will be. Your art becomes a visual scrapbook of all the artists you love. I think that’s beautiful. <3

 6 – Find Community

Art friends! Best thing ever. You can bond over your shared obsession, commiserate over tough parts, and learn about art together. A lot of my drawings are in-jokes exchanged with my BFF. I’ve known them from childhood (lucky) but apparently adults can make friends too. Fandom spaces are great for this; many Discord channels have a dedicated artists’ zone. You can also try r/sketchdaily or challenges like Mermay/Inktober if you want a sense of community.

If you don’t have art friends (yet), that’s OK; parasocial works too! I like watching “Draw With Me” content on Youtube. It’s great to put on while you���re creating, especially when you don’t have the energy for something educational. Not only is it inspiring, you can learn tips and tricks along the way. And of course, you can never go wrong with Bob Ross.

 7 – Be Interesting

The very first step was to manage your health. In a way, we’ve looped back to the beginning.  Because no matter what you do, art begins and ends with who you are. You can practice fundamentals 12 hours a day but if you never live your life, you’ll never make interesting art. No one cares for artists whose only character trait is how hard they grind. So go be the most vibrant version of yourself. Take up weird hobbies. Make weird friends. Seek new experiences. Question the beliefs you grew up with. Read books for a while instead of drawing. Develop your principles. Embrace what makes you different. Survive the worst year of your life somehow. Learn what makes you thrive. Your art won’t be for everyone. But it WILL mean the world to some. And to me, that’s the whole point of doing this. Good luck, fellow artist. The world is your adventure yet to come. I believe in you. <3

[autisticlee]

I cant bond with people by talking to them anymore...I realized the only way I bonded with people was either by sharing special interests and only talking about that (and losing that friend when one of us lost interest), by trauma bonding and only talking about our traumatic lives back and forth, or because we went to school together and saw each other every day.

I don't see anyone regularly anymore. i'm too burnt out to have a set special interest to get completely absorbed in, to know enough about to talk about it, and don't even know how to talk about interests anymore. and trauma bonding is so exhausting and I do not want to do that anymore. I do keep finding myself accidentally falling into the habit of it when i dont know what else to say, and then i feel like im stuck there, I ruined it already.

for years online my method of making friends was meet because of special interest and bond over that, get to know each other through trauma bonding and bond over that, ir a combo of both shared interest snd trauma bonding. twe trauma bond daily and/or talk about the shared interest. then after a while we either stop being friends because they expect me to be their therapist and get mad that i'm still sharing MY trauma and "dismissing" theirs, or one of us loses interest in the shared interest and the conversations fall apart until we stop talking because we have nothing else in common.

I don't know HOW TO TALK TO PEOPLE NORMALLY. i've seen and met so many people who had beat friends for their whole life and they have barelt anything in common and I just dont understand how they do it lmao.

I truly don't know how to talk to people and it's too exhausting to keep trying. I know you're supposed to do small talk because it's important to them. but I can't even do that right and don't enjoy it at all. but then what after that? I don't know! I never feel any connection to people during or after small talk. I don't know when you're allowed to stop the small talk to info dump your interests. but also people don't like the info dumping....but I don't know about anything else besides my narrow set of interests that are never the same interests as anyone around me.

I don't know how to share things about myself without it accidentally becoming trauma dumping. becasue there's not much to me outside of the trauma and "negative" stuff. I panic and syart oversharing when I think they are getting bored of me because they're barely responding and not suggesting other topics, but I don't know about other topics. i'm uncomfortable asking them potentially invasive questions about themselves. I dont know whats appropriate or how many I can ask before they think i'm being invasive and nosy and get uncomfortable by it. I rather let them talk about what they're comfortable sharing naturally instead of pressuring them to tell me everything. (ive has may experiences with people getting hostile because I tried to get to know them by asking questions) I dont know how to be entertaining and not bore them. I don't know how to respond to 1-5 word responses. I don't know what to do if they stop responding. (most times i've come to find it means they don't want to tall and get annoyed when I keep trying) I domt know how to carry conversations about things I don't know about or care about. I don't know all the cool tiktok trends and stuff or celebrities or movies or tv and don't get their references. I don't live a "normal" life so I can't relate to most people.

the only interesting things to me are my interests that no one else ever cares about. I don't like asking people a bunch of invasive questions about them to "get to know them" because I prefer things to naturally come out over time when they want it to. I prefer to naturally learn things about them as we hang out and they are comfortable sharing. I rather DO things than talk and try to carry a conversation. I can't do back and forth conversation. it's either one sided where I just listen to them and usually be their therapist, where they talk about stuff I don't know or understand and have to pretend I understand to make them happy, or I have to carry the conversation and end up oversharing because I cant carry the conversation any other way. sometimes i'll get the autistic back and forth where I say a thing about me, they respond a related thing about them, and so on. thats easiest to do.

but even that lately has been exhausting and unenjoyable. especially if we run out of things to tell about ourselves/our interests and have nothing to talk about anymore. but also the fact that i've done it SO MUCH over the years that i'm bored and tired of telling every new person I meet the same exact things, having the same exact conversation over and over and over with different people. having to keep telling people the same things about myself and ask the same questions about them. its exhausting and boring. I know that's "how it works" but I dont have the energy for it. i'm tired and bored of it. that's why lately I feel it's easier to try to convince people I already know to be my friend again.....even if that's bot working out for me at all. I can at least skip the "get to know each other" phase for the most part

I think I just want bonds where we can do things together that we enjoy. quietly. comfortably. no pressure to converse and be socially acceptable. a bond we feel naturally and don't need to fight for it. I think I need an irl friend more than online ones right now. because I can only chat with online ones and I don't really want or need someone to chat with right now! I don't want to say words! I wrote this blog to say words and talk to my therapist! I don't have many words to say and I want soneome who is ok with that, but still wants to be around me! I need someone to do things with! to hang out, not talk. an irl person to share regular activities with instead of having endless conversation. but those are even harder to get and I cannot figure it out despite how hard i've been trying! because it always required the small talk and conversation that ends up dying very quickly because I cant do it 😭

I also know I can't expect people to meet my needs and do the interaction the way I need them to go. I have to do what's expected of me and meet them in the middle instead of them meeting me. i've tried asking people to meet me in the middle and explained my needs and stuff, but that has lead me to being alone. so I cant expect or demand it. but I don't have the ability to give them what they want anymore 😭 "finding the right people" isn't something that just happens. it's not easy. see all the above to know why. I need them to find me, but know they won't. but I don't have the energy and ability to look and keep trial and erroring people for years and years straight...I'm out of options. no choices. don't know what do.

does this make sense?? words are hard

[megumi-fm]

20th - 25th Dec || 145 to 150 of 150dop

this is a late post because I was away from home for the holidays and I didn't really have the time or good enough internet to update you guys, but here we are!!! thank you to everyone who tagged me in cute games during this time (i will be doing them only next year tho hehe) and especially to @chaotic-diaries-of-yours-truely and @winryrockbellwannabe who sent in really comforting asks during this time <3 you guys are my favourites. (I will answer them soon I promise! I've just been swamped 😭)

🎧 Son O-Gong by Seventeen

📋 Tasks

🩺 Radiomics Projects ↳ BCR: draft next year timeline ↳ GBR: download source code and learn mechanism 📝 English Proficiency Test ↳ results are out!!! I did really well, yay!!!

🎨 Personal

I went to my hometown (it's not so much my hometown as it is my native place) and got to meet a lot of family friends and relatives!! It was a lot of fun!! I had a great time!! 📺 Shows this week ↳ My Love Mix-Up JP ✅ ↳ Cherry Magic TH 🔽 (can I just say that I love this adaptation wayyy more than I expected. I really like that it is not trying to be a replica of the JP version and instead focusing on the same themes in a different light) ↳ Last Twilight 🔽 ↳ I also kind of started Trillion Game (meguro ren the man you are)

and we're finally done!! this was my first challenge after setting up my studyblr and I am so happy that I made so many wonderful friends on here who have been checking in on me and supporting me through the course of these 150 days. Even if you're just sharing these posts or liking them, it has really motivated me to do better and keep going. And you guys, who have also been working hard to meet your goals, y'all inspire me day in and day out, I really wouldn't be here if it wasn't for this wonderful studyblr community <3

I initially started this series in july and it was only supposed to be for 100 days, but now, after several days skipped in between, and the 100 days updated to 150, and constantly changing goals, we're finally here. At the end. And despite all the modifications, I've only really met 50% of the goals I set for myself. But that being said, i'm proud of myself for making it through. I tend to struggle with consistency a lot, but I'm happy that I still tried my best to be regular with posting. I'm also happy that I was kind to myself through the duration of these 150 days- that I didn't get too rigid with the structure and I let myself have off days or club several days in a post together. At the end of the day, it wasn't supposed to feel too pressurizing or like a chore, and I think I succeeded in that. I also learnt a lot about planning, and I've also in general come to accept the truth that goal setting is a dynamic process and goals and due dates will change over time and that is okay. So yeah. I felt really challenged throughout this series, but that being said, I'm never doing this again 😭. May next year bring new challenges hehe

37 - 42/final42 // the end.

[noriadi]

cw/tw: thoughts.

♪ ── strong girl : niki

it's to the death, or less than nothing i'm a pendulum, i don't know where i'll land, i just know that i can swing it, i'll always swing it

cause goddamn it, fuck if i'm not everybody's strong girl, who am i if i can't be everybody's strong girl? ♫

when i was in my late teens, i was that typical teenager who hated everything about her life. i was consumed by negativity because i couldn't envision a future where i would feel truly happy again.

i tried to find my worth through the approval of others and my achievements. i was the kid who constantly sought academic validation, believing that my value depended entirely on what i accomplished.

i was once seen as the strong, independent girl in my family, the one who could do and learn everything on her own. they believed i didn’t need help, so they rarely offered it. but beneath the surface, i was struggling, feeling the immense pressure of their expectations. i was so close to erasing myself, burdened by the fear of what might happen if i could no longer handle everything alone. what if i wasn’t actually the strong, independent person they thought i was? what if, in trying to meet their expectations, i lost sight of my own well-being? i began to realize that even the strongest people need support, and admitting that doesn’t make me any less capable. it makes me human.

but over time, i learned that even in the darkest moments, there's always a glimmer of hope. i started to shift my focus, embracing small joys and gradually building a vision for a brighter future. now, i understand that happiness is a journey, not a destination, and every step forward, no matter how small, brings me closer to the life i truly want.

but instead of letting that fear consume me, i decided to embrace my vulnerability. i reached out for help and discovered that strength isn't about carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders—it's about knowing when to ask for support. by allowing myself to be open and honest with others, i found a new kind of strength—one rooted in connection, resilience, and self-compassion. i learned that it's okay not to have everything figured out and that true independence is about trusting yourself enough to lean on others when you need to. in doing so, i began to redefine what it means to be strong, finding empowerment in both my strengths and my struggles.

softness is a strength woven in whispers, a quiet power that blooms in the heart. it is the gentle hand that soothes in a world of rough edges, the tender light that shines through shadows of doubt. in a world that often glorifies the hard and unyielding, softness is the bravery to remain open, the grace to offer kindness when it’s needed most. it is the resilience of the flower that bends with the wind yet never breaks, the courage to love even when it’s easier to close off. softness is the silent strength that heals, nurtures, and connects. it’s the melody of compassion in a cacophony of noise, the calm in the storm. to be soft is to be unafraid of your own depth, to let your heart lead, knowing that true power lies not in the armor we wear, but in the tenderness we give.

i may no longer be the strong girl everyone once relied upon, but i will forever be the soft girl, whose gentle heart brings warmth and grace to the world.

[monotonous-minutia]

Work rant. May delete later. Don't feel pressured to read.

I'm ticked off.

As some of you probably know by now, at my job we work with kids who can get physically aggressive towards staff. Pretty much everyone who works here has been hit, kicked, pushed, or bitten, sometimes all of the above. People always ask me how can I handle working here and the weird thing is after a while you just get used to it. We get a ton of training and on the job practice so after a bit you just know what to do and work with it motion by motion.

Even so, it can still be scary and overwhelming.

Now my issue is my boss (who I no longer appreciate or trust for a really involved reason) today got scratched by a kid. She was telling him to put his phone away, he didn't want to and started yelling, she went to radio for backup (we all have walkies on us at all times), he reached for her radio to stop her, and accidentally scratched her with his fingernails, which I know were too long because I talked about it to him earlier.

Obviously that's not fun. I'm sorry it happened to her. But he wasn't trying to hurt her and she kind of acted like he was aggressing towards her maliciously and called a code red so like half the building came running to help her. Immediately after she removed herself from the situation, she grabbed her stuff and went home early.

I don't want to engage in trauma Olympics but the reason this irks me is because a few months ago I was alone in a room with a kid who punched me in the head six times, knocked me over, and started kicking and hitting me while I was lying on the ground. I had to radio for help three times before people started showing up and between my calls I heard them talking like "I can be there if no one else can" or "someone switch out with me and this kid" instead of rushing to my aid when I'm getting pounded by a kid half a head taller than me.

When people finally showed up to help I crawled out of her range and ran to my office to sit down and have a full-on nervous breakdown. Several people checked in on me which was nice and my favorite coworker (the one who left) sat with me for a while and talked me through it. But no one told me I could go home. I had group half an hour later and another one after that and then a meeting. No one said they would cover for me and that I could go take care of myself. I had bruises and a headache that lasted two days. (For all I know I had a concussion but I'm never going to the hospital again so who knows.)

Thing is my boss is a little out of touch I think because she's not in group and with the kids on the front lines constantly working with their escalations. And when she is involved she always has a big reaction. Big reactions are fine, we all still have them. But I've been getting in a lot of trouble for being "disregulated" (there was literally an intervention and other things I won't get into but are the reason I no longer trust my boss because of the way she handled it). So it seems really hypocritical of her to have big reactions and leave work early when a kid scratches her but I'm expected to suck it up when a kid beats the crap out of me. I can't cry at work or express frustrations without people using it against me to say I'm doing a terrible job.

I love the work I do in spite of the risks because I want to help these kids. I used to feel like my coworkers are so supportive and understanding. But now I feel like I can't be myself or ask for help. I'm constantly walking on eggshells waiting for someone to point out all the things I'm doing wrong. And the one person I trusted isn't there anymore. So I go every day into this high stress job with no outlet and no ability to admit when I'm overwhelmed. I suck up my tears and smile and say it's just another day and then go home and kick the wall.

I'm currently looking into different jobs and figuring out what my best options are. I hate leaving the kids and this work but it's so unhealthy for me to be there constantly worried that one more mistake is going to be the end of me.

[zkes]

ACADEMIC PRESSURE AND STRESS: Welcome to High School

Academic pressure is a serious issue among high school students that affect their well-being.

Also known as academic stress, this is derived from the desire for perfection, parental pressure, demands of school works, assignment, exams, reporting, quizzes, and the desire to achieve academic goals.

High expectations from parents, teachers, and peers make students insecure, anxious and pressured which impact their mental health. Oftentimes, these pressures are compounded by other issues cause suffering to teenagers which include personal relationships, family problems, and health issues, among others. When left unattended, academic pressure can lead students to nervous breakdowns, panic attacks, burnouts, and depression.

They expect highly from me, "push yourself". I often find myself in a situation where I aim for the high expectations and destroy my mental health. If the first thing my parents ask me after a day in school is “how was your day?” instead of “how did you do on your math test?”, I feel like they place more importance on my grades over anything else. I believe I'm worthless if I do not meet my parent's academic (over)expectations.

I know that success is often measured in terms of the highest scores on the most difficult subjects and a number of extracurricular activities. "Anything better than failing". Despite of my hard work and effort, I'm plagued by the guilt that I'm "not good enough" or "have not done enough," I gave everything, my sweat and my energy I sacrifice my sleep and I couldn't eat at the right time for academic works. They said na “tayo ang gumagawa ng grades natin and nag eencode lang sila.” that words can't convinced me kasi hindi ako mag sasacrifice ng ganito for that undeserving grades, nasaamin nga ba ang mali?

Being bullied affect everything about me; how I see myself, my friends, school, and my future. Depression, low self-esteem that may last a lifetime, shyness, physical illnesses, and threatened or attempted self-harm. I experienced to miss school, I saw marks drop or even leave school because I have been bullied. Only when students learn to respect and accept each other will bullying become reduced?

Being backstabbed by those I thought were people that I could get along with. I stayed true and positive, yet unaware of how I became a topic of inconsiderate, untrue, and self-centered people. The kind of people that are two-faced being "good" yet talk bad whenever you're not around. People that will make someone you never met hate you. People that will even talk literally about how you fold your sleeves. I thank my friends as they are the ones that had believed and supported me throughout my Senior High Journey. My friends that will face and correct me whenever I did something wrong. My friends that became my helping hand on my problems, and celebrated with me on my success.

Through this journey I learned that, Don’t pressure yourself too much. This is one of the reason nowadays students experience they always pressuring themselves to be a better students but they didn’t know sometimes they forget to have a time for themselves to enjoy their teenage life. To lessen your stress and pressure that you experiencing, just enjoy every time you’re learning new things. Get some friends that can help you when you’re experiencing difficulties in your studies. And always seek help from Him.

[mabelpodcast]

ive been achieving my 'dreams' and doing things that make everyone around me happy and are supposed to make me happy but I'm still not happy. will i ever be happy?

Your answer is in two parts.

First: achievement doesn't always bring the emotions we expect. Meeting a goal can often lead to a feeling of dissatisfaction, especially if we place enormous pressure on ourselves ("once I finish this piece of art, I'm finally going to be proud of myself!"). Success is a process, not a place we can walk to. And sometimes the disconnect between what we expect to feel and what we actually end up feeling can be disappointing, frustrating, or even panic-inducing.

That

being

said.

If you don't feel any pleasure whatsoever at your achievements, if it's not just a case of "I thought I'd feel better than this" but instead an endless sense of dissociation and emptiness, if achieving your dreams causes you more stress and misery than even the smallest amount of pride and joy, then these are not your dreams. If you are measuring yourself against other people's milestones, no wonder you don't feel other people's sense of accomplishment. Your first step is to find out what matters to you. Your goals may not be other people's goals. Don't let a prescriptivist society rob you of your own happiness. An example from my own life: everyone I know, and most of my family, told me I had to get a college degree to be successful. But college was frankly horrible, and dropping out was one of the best things I could have done for myself. I have never once regretted it. You can always find your own way through the world. Give yourself the space to envision what that might be.

[leafstrippytrip]

Life, according to a 17 yr old boy.

Personally, I could never find myself to fit in to any religion. Christianity, Buddism, Islam. I could never picture myself faithfully, and more importantly, truthfully believing in such ideologies. But, I do believe that religion gives faith to the unfaithful and hope to the hopeless which is a magic in itself. The ability to conjure connections and string bonds from nothing still amazes me today, no matter how many times I try to digest it.

Atheist Thoughts

Absurdism

- The idea if life being absurd in general, and that life in itself is a black hole. Diving into such a hole searching for meaning will only scratch and hurt you.

Yeahhhh, this was Camus’s whole shtick wasn’t it? “Man is the only creature who refuses to accept what he is.” In a day of modern society, the Kafkaesque-ness of life and the mundanity of days, we are given direct goals and expectations to reach.

However, even stripped of these distractions and the confounding environment of modern society, man still strives to surpass. Surpass the other animals, surpass the previous generation. This pressure to succeed is amplified if your family are immigrants or have deep financial trouble. As the youngest myself and probably for many others of you, we have felt a deep debt to repay and a high expectation to justify our right to exist and our parents hard struggle to get us in this newfound country. In a more global sense, what a man slaves a lifetime away to only partly unveil a discovery or concept may turn into only tertiary level education 300 years later. That is the prime example of adaptation and the strength of humanity yet its biggest pressure. However, this poses a question we all ask time to time. Why not accept? Why not accept a bad grade or that you’re never going to succeed. And even if you do reach the top, you realize that nothing is waiting for you at the top. So you work and you work and you work. But for what? We are only temporarily motivated to work for little goals here and there. A leadership role here, an award there. Once you pay off your debts, succeed in every sense, you exhale a sigh of tiredness, for there is nothing to meet you at the top. But, maybe it’s better to not get too philosophical here (how ironic). After all, it’s the accomplishment of little goals and tasks and not the meaning that makes us happy. We continue everyday for achievement, not because of the bigger picture. And once we reset ourselves back at the bottom of the mountain, we’ll all happily roll our boulders back up.

Camus proposes that there are a few solutions to this conundrum of life. Suicide is not one as your freedom will be revoked, and you’re giving into the absurdism of life. Instead, we must do what man is designed to do. Revolt. Rebel against life and accept that the search for meaning is in itself meaningless. Absurd. Humanly impossible. Thus, to live absurdly is to accept that there is no greater meaning above the mountain top. Fate doesn’t guide your path since the path is fucked up since the beginning. Embrace the imperfections of life and accept the absurd.

However, my thoughts on the matter are that:

This idea of fulfilling expectations and acceptance reminds me of when m

Camus’s ideas directly conflict with extentialism

[sillybillycanadian]

TW: depression, sui ideation, the big sad, etc etc

I hate schoolwork. It’s petty, it’s silly, it’s beneath me, but I am so fed up with it. I am 20 years old and I haven’t graduated high school. There are so many good messages on here about not needing to meet any artificial timetable. That we can do things in our own time. But holy crap guys I’ve been stagnating for so long. I’ve been fighting an uphill battle with this part of high school for three years now.

I started homeschooling halfway through Grade 10. I have self-guided courses that I can do on my own time which still earn me credits to go towards my high school diploma. When I started, I was working at a pace that (if maintained) would have let me graduate a year early. I was masking ADHD, anxiety, and depression so all of that slowly leaked out. I was procrastinating, oversleeping some days then under-sleeping others. I developed an unhealthy habit of eating when I felt bored and like I needed a distraction. Some life things happened like my mom getting cancer (she’s alive and well, but her neutral state of “healthy” will never be the same) and my dad kicking out the three of us (mom, brother, and me) for a while because my dad and brother had a fight.

Those nights were the closest I got to killing myself. We had nothing but the clothes on our backs and some cash we were able to use for a hotel. He did this to his immunocompromised wife during the height of the pandemic. He didn’t care. Even when we were let back in the house (because we threatened to involve the police) he didn’t speak to us for days. I was hardly eating. A family friend talked to all of us over Zoom and referred to my dad’s doings as a “hiccup”. I want to be a forgiving person. I like to think that everyone deserves a second chance. But I can’t say honestly that I’ve forgiven my father. I don’t think I’ve even forgiven the family friend for calling it a “hiccup”. He probably didn’t even know the whole situation, but it stung so bad. And I hugged my father that day. As if it was fine. As if he doesn’t still scare me and I lose the air in my lungs when he stands behind me.

Ever since then my life has been derailed. In the summer of 2020 I started treatment for depression and anxiety. The summer I should have graduated. Some time in 2021 I was diagnosed with ADHD twice because the first person to do it never kept proper records and then left the hospital she was working at. So it was as if my diagnosis never happened. So 6 months after the first time, the second diagnosis finally happened. I’m on medication for it now. I thought it was helping, but I’ve been so useless again for months now and with no changes in meds to explain it. I also might have undiagnosed autism, which really stings because I was neglected when I was younger and the excuse was that my brother needed the attention since he’s autistic. Anyway. I don’t have the energy to shower regularly. I hate needing to make food for myself. I literally have two courses left then I’m done high school for good. 5 basic-ass assignments then it’s over. But instead I watch YouTube and try to make stupid music on my laptop to get a tiny hit of dopamine. I search “help” and sort by latest on Tumblr to see if there is anyone I can comfort or cheer up. Is it actually altruism? Or am I just so starved for attention and validation and companionship that I try to please anyone I can? Do I try to help others because I may as well since I’m the only person I can’t come through for?

With all of this, I have friends who are pressuring me to move out very very quickly. They know how much living at home is making me hurt and ache so I know they’re coming from a good place. But I can hardly take care of my own health and hygiene, how they hell do they expect I can take care of a home and hold a job?

That’s why I don’t just hate schoolwork. I definitely do, but that’s not all of it. I hate schoolwork because it’s a testament to just how stuck I am in life. In this one place. Writing a few sentences to an essay each day if I’m lucky. I hate it. I just hate it so much.

One of those friends. We like each other. So so much. We want a future together. Her and I. But she is one of the ones trying to rush me. I know we both want me to be in a good place before starting a relationship. But she also doesn’t want to be in limbo forever while I work out my issues. So it’s like an ultimatum. At this rate I need to move out in the next month or two or I’m gonna lose her for good, it seems. That’s as far as one of our mutual friends of the group knows. So now I have another point of pressure to get my act together before things crash and burn even more. But it had the opposite effect because I feel lost and stuck and like I can’t do anything.

This is just to vent. Cause idk what else to do than rant and maybe just maybe I’ll stop being a piece of trash. God. I hate myself so much rn. I’m such a stupid worthless prick. Dammit.

[heyitsmetonid]

Word Count: ~4,376

Reading Time: 17.5m

Warning: Foul language. Mention of attempted r&p3. Slavery.

More works here!

As a host of a top-rated talk show, “I Was There,” I often rehearsed my lines and reviewed my note cards. Preparedness is crucial in this line of work. You never know what will happen or what someone will say, which may steer the direction of the show. Sometimes, I let the topic veer off just to address what happened or was said. Other times, I have to reel it in. Regardless of what occurs, I always get back on track to keep things organized and timely. 

This particular night was like any other night. I was in my office reviewing my notes when a knock came to the door. 

“Hey, Toni! Our guest is here,” my assistant Eddie said.

“Great! I’ll be there in a moment. Offer them a nice … refreshment,” I instructed. 

I always felt weird saying that. “Offer them a nice refreshment.” The fact that the company kept fresh blood on hand for guests was surprising and disturbing. I tried not to think of it too much and instead stood from my desk and walked over to the full-length mirror, giving myself a once over.

“Alright, chick,” I began giving myself a pep talk, “you’ve got this. Another vampire, another story. No pressure. Let’s see what this one has to say.”

I walked out of my office and towards the guest dressing room with a pep in my step and determination in my heart. I always wanted to improve and make the next show better than the last. This show, I thought, would be legendary. I could feel it in my bones. 

I arrived at the dressing room and knocked. “Hello? It’s me -”

“Yes, come in,” said a voice within. “I’ve been expecting you.”

I opened the door and found an attractive, tall man sitting in the makeup chair, wearing a makeup cape and a bright smile on his face. His beard and hair were neatly trimmed. He wore a black leather jacket, black pants, and a nice blue shirt with a sparkly dark-colored scarf. A silver necklace adorned his neck with what looked like two ruby crystals. Despite the makeup artist putting whatever amount of makeup on his ethereal face, I could tell that his skin was flawless. Actually, I’ve never met a vampire who didn’t have flawless skin, so I didn’t understand why there was a makeup budget for guests.

“Mr. Jackson! I’m Toni D. It’s very nice to meet you,” I greeted him with my hand extended.

He took my warm hand into his cold one and gently squeezed it as if not to break me. His touch was inviting and almost magnetic, like a bond was being made through this handshake. For some odd reason, being near him nearly felt natural.

“Please, call me Silas,” he insisted, placing his other hand over mine, thus encapsulating my hand between his giant ones. “There’s no need to be so formal.”

The way he looked at me made my face catch fire. I had a hard time staring this beautiful man in the face, but I held onto the little professionalism I could find to not fluster and break eye contact.

“Alright. Silas, it is. How are you feeling tonight?”

“Like I’ve hit the jackpot,” he said, smiling and caressing my hand. “Tonight is undoubtedly one of the best nights of my life.”

“Oh! Is being on my show that important to you?” I asked, glancing at my hand momentarily, then back into his mesmerizing brown eyes.

Silas grinned. “Not the show but someone.”

I couldn't help but blush, feeling slightly embarrassed. I tried to recover as quickly as possible by smiling brightly again.

“Ah, okay!” I responded and looked down at my hand, which was still in both of his. “Is my hand keeping yours warm?”

He chuckled and let go of my hand. “Ah, I’m sorry about that! I am just thrilled to have finally met you.”

“No worries! I’ll step out and let Celeste finish your makeup, and I’ll see you on stage,” I said with a wink.

Silas stared at me, tilting his head slightly, and smirked. “See you then.”

I said farewell to Celeste and stepped out of the room gently shutting the door behind me. Then, I ran to the bathroom and rushed over to the sink. I splashed some water on my face and studied myself in the mirror. Since I’d washed some of the makeup off my face, I could see my face was flushed. I could feel the blood rushing through my veins, and my heartbeat was so loud I was afraid he could hear it.

“Calm yourself,” I panted. “What’s gotten into you? He’s not the first vampire - or handsome guy - you’ve interviewed. Get it together.”

I snatched a few paper towels from the dispenser to dry my face. Then, I headed to my makeup artist’s station so she could reapply my makeup.

“Alright, Mr. Jackson,” Celeste said, looking over his face, “I think we are done here. Just allow me to put my makeup away and I’ll take you to the director backstage.”

“Thank you, Celeste! Marvelous job!”

Celeste grinned from ear to ear. “Oh, you’re most welcome!”

Silas smiled back. At that moment, he quickly turned his attention toward the door, then toward what he understood to be panting. She was panting, and her heart was racing. He started to rise from his seat to check on her, but he thought it was best not to, fearing he’d expose himself.

So, he held onto the armrests of his chair tightly, metal collapsing under his grip, and he closed his eyes and focused on the sound of her heart. After about a minute, her heart rate slowed and her breathing started evening out. 

“That a girl,” he whispered as he loosened his grip on the chair.

“What was that?” Celeste asked giddily.

Silas glanced at Celeste and rubbed his hands together. “Oh, nothing! I was just thinking of Toni. She is quite charming.”

“Oh.” Celeste’s smile faltered a bit with the realization that Silas’s attention was on someone else. “Yes, she’s something else,” she said dryly, putting away the last of her tools.

Silas gave Celeste a sympathetic smile and clasped his hands together as he waited for her to finish cleaning her area.

Yes, more than you’ll ever know. So charming with that little wink of hers. He used to do the same, too.

The bright lights shined onto the stage and illuminated us as we sat across from each other in our comfy armchairs. The director stood behind the cinematographer as he did his countdown. Then, the red light lit up on the camera, and that’s when I knew it was time.

“Hey! It’s me, Toni D, and thank you for tuning into yet another episode of “I Was There”. Tonight, I have a very special guest with me. One who has been in the Richmond area for a very long time and has witnessed many things that I certainly could never fathom. Please, help me give a big welcome to Mr. Silas Jackson!”

The audience applauded and cheered. Silas waved at them and nodded towards me.

“Thank you for having me, Toni,” he said, expressing his gratitude. “I absolutely love the show and what you’ve done with it.”

“Ah, thank you so much! You are so kind, Mr. - I mean – Silas! Hehe!” I blushed, almost totally forgetting the fact that he preferred I refer to him by his first name. “So, let’s get into it, shall we?”

“Let’s,” he nodded.

“How long have you been in Richmond?”

“Since birth.”

“Since birth,” I repeated. “And when were you born?”

“March 3, 1750.”

“Wow! That’s almost 275 years ago,” I stated. “Tell me, what was life like back then? Any childhood memories that stand out?”

Silas hummed as he thought of a response. “Well, life was certainly much more drab then. Quite honestly, it was horrendous. I was born a slave, and as soon as I was able to stand steadily on my own two feet and walk properly, I was put to work. While most people today spent their childhoods on playgrounds or in school, I spent mine in the tobacco fields, and it was laborious. Clearing the land for the crop took a long time. After that was done, I prepared the seedbeds in January. It was freezing! I barely had enough clothes on my back to keep me warm. The only thing that probably kept me from freezing to death then was the work that kept me moving.”

“That’s awful,” I muttered.

“Yes, it was. That’s why I was determined to get away, and I did. I escaped when I was 20 years old.”

I was surprised to hear this. “Really? How?”

“In the dead of night. I saw an opportunity and took it. One of the slavers had come to my quarters to … claim me …,” he said with a wrinkle on his brow, “but I was stronger than him. Working in the fields did grace me with that gift. I was able to pin him down and snap his neck. He carried a pistol on him. I took it along with his boots and coat and ran north. I knew I had to head in that direction. After what seemed to be weeks, I found myself in Philadelphia. There, I found the Quakers, promoters of abolition before the first radical society of abolition was created in 1784. They hid me. Helped me.”

I released a breath that I didn’t even realize I was holding. His account of events thus far had me overwhelmingly absorbed. It was always tough to hear Black and Brown people’s accounts of the past, but by the end of the interviews, I was always glad that they were willing to share it. Their stories needed to be told, just like Silas Jackson’s. 

“Once you were in Philadelphia, what did you do?” I asked.

“I survived,” he simply put with a resolute gaze, “and I lived one day at a time.”

The audience applauded him and spoke many words of encouragement. I followed suit. 

“Such bravery! I don’t know if I could’ve done it myself.”

“Of course you could,” he told me. “When your life and freedom are at stake, you will do what is necessary.”

I gave him a warm smile. “Yes, I suppose you are right. How long did you stay in Philadelphia?”

“I was only there six months before I had to leave,” he answered.

“You had to leave? For what reason?”

“My mother died. I wanted to bury her body and give her a proper funeral. I wanted to say my final goodbye.”

“Oh my! I’m sorry! I completely understand, but tell me,” I sat up straight, “how did you hear of your mother’s death?”

“One of the Quakers, Mr. Mott, was keeping tabs on any news coming out of Richmond and the surrounding areas. He wanted to make sure no one was hot on my trail or knew of my whereabouts. He also had someone close to Mr. Jackson, my old enslaver, who would report back to him. That’s how I found out, and with that news, I headed back.”

“With help, of course, from this informant?” I questioned.

“Yes, and a few others. He got me in and out of Richmond safely. He orchestrated everything perfectly. I almost felt like a free man walking about as I did. After laying my mother to rest, I returned to Philadelphia, but only stayed for a few days. I was ready to go.”

At this point, I didn’t know whether to ask him about the man who assisted him or why he left Philadelphia. Both questions needed to be asked, but as if he could read my mind, he answered one of the questions for me.

With a smile, he said, “I left Philadelphia because I got a taste of what it was like being a free man, and I wanted to actually live as a free man.”

“Were you not a free man in Philadelphia?”

“Not looking over my shoulder every five minutes, no.”

“And you weren’t afraid of being captured and killed?”

“Of course, but determination got the best of me, so I went back to get my freedom and help others get theirs, too.”

Needless to say, I was enthralled. Never had I met anyone who escaped slavery and was willing to go back to where they escaped to live openly. It was a bold move, and I needed to know how he did it.

“How did you do that?”

He stared at me for a moment. I could see the wheels turning in his head trying to figure out what to say and how to say it. He smirked at me, and I could see he was having fun with this.

“My newfound friend helped me,” he finally said.

“Mmm!” I nodded. “Care to share this friend’s name?”

“Duff. Lord William Duff.”

I froze.

William Duff? No, no way! He can’t be talking about - 

Yes, that is precisely who I’m talking about, a voice not my own echoed in my head.

I looked around at the audience, the director, and the cameraman before my gaze landed on Silas, who had been staring at me now with a grin on his face. Out of nervousness, I licked my lips and bit my bottom lip.

Cat caught your pretty little tongue, Miss Duff? he asked telepathically. 

“W-what?”

“You asked my friend’s name, and I said Lord William Duff,” he answered.

The cat indeed caught my tongue. I wasn’t sure how to follow up. Was he messing with me? Lying to me? Or was he really telling the truth? Because even though it seemed like he was toying with me, William Duff was alive and living in Richmond during the time he described. 

“Psst! Psst! Toni!” a hushed voice called from backstage. 

I turned to the curtain and saw my producer and my assistant trying to egg me on. So, I cleared my throat in an attempt to regain my composure and asked another question.

“So, this friend of yours,” it was hard for me to say my distant relative’s name, “how exactly did you meet him, and how did he help you?”

Silas smirked as his eyes sparkled and grew slightly redder, the tint swirling in his irises like glitter. “I met him through another Quaker, John Woolman. He lived in New Jersey but traveled through Virginia, Maryland, and Philadelphia, often seeing firsthand the devastation my - our - people were going through.” He pointed between us. “During one of his travels, he met a man named William Duff, a freed Black man, roaming Richmond ‘without a care in the world’ were his words. Haha! He told me he had to meet him and know just how he was able to do that and find out he did indeed. The power that man wielded was extraordinary, and I wanted a piece of it.”

I was starting to see where things were headed, and as much as I didn’t like it, I had to keep the show moving. I certainly didn’t want to cause mass panic among the audience or start panicking outwardly until everything was in the clear, and I got my Black ass out of there. 

“Power? William Duff?” I asked breathily, barely able to form sentences at this point.

“Oh, yes! My maker was one of the first to take a stake in Virginia and overseas. Solidified his lordship in England and came back to the States to live lavishly and fight the antiabolitionists. And I fought alongside him, of course. Even fought together during the American Civil War about 100 years later. He gave me everything I needed to become the man that I am today. I am so grateful to him.”

I slowly nodded. “Uh-huh.”

Yes, I am grateful for what your 11th-generation great-grandfather did for me.

I shuddered. Fucking hell! But then, a question came to mind.

“Is he still around?”

Silas frowned. “No.”

“Where did he go? Did something happen to him?”

“Something did happen to him, but …” he looked away from me to the audience and back into my eyes, “perhaps I shouldn’t talk about it. It is all in the past after all.”

“But, Silas, we’re here to talk about the past,” I reminded him. “You’ve spoken so candidly thus far. What’s stopping you now? What are you hiding?”

He tilted his head, and the corner of his lip curled up. “Hiding? I have no need.”

He was lying, and I could tell, and he knew I could tell he was lying. Whatever happened to my 11th-generation great-grandfather, I wanted to know about it. Before I could press him any further, he spoke to me.

We are due for a break, aren’t we? Let’s get away from prying eyes and ears, and I will tell you what you want to know.

Alright, I agreed.

“I have to admit you’ve piqued my interest. I want to know more right after we take a commercial break.”

The audience clapped, and I motioned for us to go backstage. Silas followed me as I walked toward my office.

“Hey! Where are you going? You can’t go too far from the stage! The commercial break will be over before you know it,” my assistant Eddie called out.

“Don’t worry! We’ll be back in just a moment,” I said, closing my office door behind me. 

Being alone in a room with a vampire who was being secretive about my lineage’s past was not the best idea, but I needed privacy. It’s not every day one discovers they’re a descendant of a vampire, and I thought it was best to keep that information off national television. At least until I knew all the facts. I had so many questions.

I faced the handsome fellow standing before me with his hand clasped behind his back, his chest puffed out, and a shit-eating grin on his face. Silas acted like he was playing a game and winning. I was determined to change that.

“I don’t even know where to begin,” I finally spoke.

Silas took in a deep breath and exhaled. “Well, I find that asking the first question that comes to mind usually helps.”

“Why did you come here?” This question had been on my mind ever since he brought up my distant relative.

Silas smiled. “I came here for you.”

“Me?” I started backing away slowly afraid of what he meant by that. “What do you want from me?”

“You and your blood.” He was straightforward.

And I was scared. 

However, before I could scream or even think of running, he said, “Not in the way you’re thinking, Toni. No! I’m not here to hurt you.” He waved his hand as if to dismiss the horrific thoughts that had invaded my mind. “I need your help to continue our legacy.”

“Our legacy? We don’t have anything, and I certainly don’t have a legacy - do I?” I was so sure, but then I quickly realized that I didn’t actually know any of the facts. “How do I know what you said out there is true? What are you talking about, Silas?”

“You’re the 11th generation great-grandchild of my maker, Lord William Duff. His blood courses through my veins as well as yours. Although yours is much more pure and genetically bonded than mine.”

“You could be making that up for all I know. 11th-generation great-grandchild of a vampire!” I said animatedly waving my hands around. “Nowhere in my family’s records does it say or even suggest that we are something other than human. Also, Silas, vampires cannot conceive, so I’m having a hard time believing you.”

“Your family wasn’t going to keep records because it was a risk,” Silas said, approaching me and trying to convince me. “Not only does power come with a tremendous amount of prosperity and responsibility, it also comes with enemies, and William had plenty. Keeping his offspring’s true identities a secret was the best way to keep them safe. And you’re right. Vampires cannot conceive, but humans can.”

“Ha! Yeah, right!” I laughed in his face. “The only thing I need protection from are these deceitful half-truths you’re spewing. Yes, I am a descendant of William Duff, his grandchild, but he is nothing more than that. A descendant.”

I started towards the door. “We’ll continue the interview as if nothing happened. Once it’s over, we don’t have to see each other again.”

I placed my hand on the doorknob and turned it but paused when he began asking me a series of questions.

“Have you ever caught a cold? Broken a bone? Perhaps you got a paper cut, and moments later, the skin healed as if you had never cut yourself. Hm? Have you ever wondered why you haven’t suffered from any ailments like your friends and colleagues?”

I let go of the doorknob and looked over my shoulder. “I’ve been real careful my whole life."

“Ah! Now, who’s the one lying?” He laughed.

It was true. Besides the occasional cut, I have never been sick or gotten hurt, but it always healed amazingly fast. I just thought that’s how it was for me and my family. That’s just how things were. Silas got me thinking, and I reluctantly pulled myself away from the door to hear what else he had to say. I turned to face him once more.

“Toni, my dear,” said Silas, tapping his necklace three times. Ting! Ting! Ting! “I would not lie about this. I would not lie to you.”

What I thought was once before rubies or some kind of red stone on his necklace started swirling in the settings of his necklace. I watched in awe. I couldn’t tear my eyes away from the sight. 

“What I say is true.” Ting! Ting! Ting! “So, please believe me, my dear Antonia Clare Duff -” Ting! Ting! Ting! “- that when I say we must save our legacy, I am telling the truth. Our bond is special. Unbreakable even.” Ting! Ting! Ting! “Isn’t that right, Antonia?”

I nodded mindlessly. It felt as if I was in a daze or a fog of intoxication and ecstasy, and my body felt relaxed and light. I was wholly focused on Silas.

“Look me in the eyes, my sweet baby, and tell me that you believe me,” he instructed.

“I believe you,” I said.

“Good!” His eyes were bloodshot red now, and his claws were protracted. “Come to me. Come to me now,” he beckoned in his deep voice.

Without moving a muscle, I started levitating toward Silas right into his arms. He held me so tenderly and caressed my face. 

“I’m so glad I found you. Now, I can finally have the one thing that’s been missing in my life.” Silas kissed my forehead and looked lovingly into my eyes. “You are so beautiful. You will make a fine bride, Antonia Clare Duff.”

Dozens of police cars and unmarked cars surrounded the broadcasting studio. Their strobe lights illuminated the area as police taped off the surrounding area and created a perimeter. A few canines searched the outside as well as indoors for the missing individuals. 

“When was the last time you saw Miss Duff?” an officer asked Eddie. 

“The last time I saw her she was in her office with that fucking creep,” he said, running his hands through his thinning black hair. “God knows where he’s taken her or what he’s done with her. Fucking hell!”

The officer jotted down what Eddie said. “We’ll do all that we can to find her. She hasn’t been missing for over an hour, so we should be able to track them down.”

Eddie scoffed. “You act like she just strolled out of here arm in arm with Joe Schmo off the street or a member of the audience. She’s been kidnapped by a damn vampire! Not sure if you know this or not, but they have inhuman super abilities. If he doesn’t want to be found, it’s very likely you won’t find them until he’s done with her.”

“I … I was just trying to be positive, sir. I do understand your frustrations,” the officer told Eddie.

“Yeah, I know,” Eddie said defeatedly. “Are we done here?”

“Sure, but don’t go too far,” the officer answered.

Eddie nodded and walked over to the studio entrance to have a semi-quiet moment on the steps. When he reached the entrance, he found a tall man wearing a neat, straightforward, all-black suit and silver jewelry. He looked a little out of place.

“Can I help you?” Eddie asked.

“Yes,” the stranger smiled. “I am looking for Toni D. Last time I checked, she worked here,” he said, looking at the spectacle around him.

“Uh, yeah, but she’s not here right now. If you haven’t noticed, we’re all looking for her.”

“What’s happened?” the stranger asked, concern etched deeply across his face.

Eddie looked the strange man up and down. “She’s missing.”

“What?!”

“I said she’s missing.”

Oh, dear! I'm too late, the man thought. "Was Silas Jackson here around the time of her disappearance, by any chance?”

“Y-yeah! He was the guest tonight. What do you know?”

The stranger cursed under his breath. “I know that she is in danger,” he answered Eddie, turning on his heel to walk away.

“Wait a minute!” Eddie hollered after him. “If you know something, you need to tell the police. Hey! Where are you going? Stop!”

“The police can’t save her,” said the stranger over his shoulder, “but I can.”

“And who the hell do you think you are?” Eddie asked, scoffing at the man.

The stranger stopped and looked back at Eddie, who was waiting for an answer. The stranger gave a small smile and said, “A relative that hasn’t seen Toni in a long time.”

Eddie cocked his head in confusion. He had believed that Toni’s family was small and most of them were dead.

The stranger didn’t want to continue the conversation, so he bid Eddie farewell. “Goodnight,” he said with a wink and walked away.

Author’s Note: My first historical/vampire fic! Wow! Never did I imagine that I’d write a historical fiction, let alone a vampire one. I did some research for this one so that I wasn’t making up everything. Citations are below. Thank you for taking the time to read this, and as always, comments, likes, and reblogs are welcome.

Citations

Google.com

 Lots of vampire “facts” and lore

https://encyclopediavirginia.org/entries/virginia-society-for-promoting-the-abolition-of-slavery-the/

 Abolitionists, abolition societies

https://www.nps.gov/jame/learn/historyculture/tobacco-colonial-cultivation-methods.htm

 Tobacco facts

https://genealogyresources.org/Richmond_City_surnames.html

 Common last names in VA

https://web.tricolib.brynmawr.edu/speccoll/quakersandslavery/commentary/people/woolman.php

 John Woolman, NJ abolitionist

Toni D

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Dividers by @cafekitsune 💜🖤🩷

“I Was There” © 2024 by Toni D

All rights reserved. No part of this written work may be reproduced in any form without permission from the author. Do not repost, translate, plagiarize or otherwise repurpose.

You're the host of a popular talk show "I Was There" where vampires come to talk about historical events they were witnesses of. One day a vampire says something truly shocking.

[thattransgirl89]

By Diana Tourjée

Owen’s girlfriend never expected to see transgender porn on his phone. No one knew he’d been hiding his attraction to trans women since middle school. Despite the discretion, deep down, Owen optimistically hoped his fear was unfounded; “I always figured she'd find out and be so accepting that I’d feel like I never should have hidden it,” he said. He was wrong.

Instead, Owen's girlfriend was devastated, the 22 year old recalled. At first, she cried and interrogated him: Was he gay? Was she just a prop for him to look straight? Why did he hide this from her? Then, she got mean. Over the course of a month, Owen said she used his sexuality as a weapon against him. According to Owen, she pitilessly mocked him, remarking on how disappointed he must be that she doesn’t have a dick. He obviously “wanted to be a bottom,” he recalled her saying; to “get a good fucking.” Sometimes, when they were intimate, Owen said that she would climb on top of him and mockingly simulate fucking him in the ass.

She ended the relationship in March. Though she didn’t say, Owen knows why: “What did my attraction to trans women have to do with my attraction to her, a cis woman?”

Owen lives in Upstate New York, and was taught to respect trans people from an early age, he said. But the shame he received from his girlfriend made him question himself. “I immediately tried to change, [after] six plus years of loving myself,” he said. “I unfollowed all the trans girls on Instagram and Twitter.” He stopped watching trans porn, too.

But abstinence was ineffective. “It just made me desire trans women more,” Owen said. “I couldn't go back.”

He’d love to have a healthy, public relationship with a trans woman. But it feels unlikely. He doesn’t really know where to meet trans women, and if his next girlfriend is a cis woman, he expects to keep this secret from her. The trauma of being shamed by his ex has marked him with paranoia. If found out again, he’s afraid he’d be ostracized completely, “scarlet letter style.”

Owen is one of countless men who are attracted to trans women but are too afraid to say so publicly. I’ve reported on this for years, but the coverage rarely draws these men out of hiding. In July, though, an interview I conducted with four straight guys inspired many such men to speak up, across the internet, onto countless social media timelines, and in emails to me. Their reasons for hiding may seem obvious, a blend of homophobia and a fear of being stripped of their masculinity.

But there is another source of pressure to conceal trans-amorous desire that may be even more powerful, yet has long gone unspoken. I have seen it myself many times over since I first transitioned—and I saw it again quite recently, wrapped up in many of the notes men wrote after reading my article. They had all been impaired by the same, devastating rejection by cis women in their lives.

Owen’s story is the most typical example of this rejection, and perhaps the most damaging, but the stigma against trans amory is much more complex than that story alone.The rejection doesn’t always come in the form of transphobia. Sometimes, it’s a matter of misguided advocacy.

Allie, a 31-year-old cisgender woman in London, was in an open relationship when she learned her boyfriend was attracted to trans women. At first, she wasn’t upset. Allie has many trans friends, and considers herself an ally. But her commitment to that alliance began to disrupt her understanding of her partner’s sexuality. Allie began to worry that her partner was a fetishist, dehumanizing trans women as sexual objects—what’s known in the LGBTQ community as a “chaser.”

That’s shorthand for “tranny chaser,” a term referring to men who secretly fuck trans women, and fetishize us as pornographic fantasy objects: chicks with dicks self-created for male consumption. This is how we’re typically treated by men, and have been for decades. Understandably, many trans people reject empathy for them. We’re forced to endure expansive social assault every day, while they literally hide from it. Trans culture is defined by resilience, theirs is defined by fear and a pattern of sexual discretion that at best breeds mutual loneliness, and at worst violence.

“I was really concerned that having a specific attraction to trans femininity meant essentially disqualifying trans women from total womanhood,” Allie said. “An attitude I saw on the internet a lot was that anyone who was specifically attracted to transness or trans people was a chaser, and that chasers are gross and horrible and objectifying.”

Rather than outright, angry rejection, Allie told me that her failure to her partner was more quiet, spread over time. “This little internal conflict I was having was actually on a path to destroying my relationship,” she said.

This is the danger in stereotyping all trans amorous men as chasers. Many are just discovering their sexuality, or finally want to be honest about who they are. They may well be living with severe anxiety or depression due to their reasonable fear. So the outright rejection of all men expressly interested in trans women ultimately alienates whatever number of trans amorous men are capable of, or actively are trying to overcome that fear. The men in this article are not chasers. They’re an example of people who desire an authentic, fulfilling connection with trans women; rejecting them has only caused harm.

Allie finally realized the unfairness of her position. “Like a lot of imperfect people who want to improve the world, I am imbued with a sense of moral outrage that sometimes inadvertently motivates me to speak over the people I'd want to advocate for.” People like the trans woman that her partner is currently dating: “If she feels loved for who she is in every way, including for her transness, and doesn’t mind that my partner likes that about her—then how the fuck is it my business?”

Although well-meaning, Allie said she now realizes that her thinking was flawed and based in the idea that anyone who loves trans women is abnormal—an idea nearly as harmful as thinking that trans women themselves are abnormal.

“They're two sides of a coin,” Allie said, “the total value of which is that transfeminine people have desire for them negated completely.”

Whatever the motivation behind the rejection, it’s clear that the shaming can have deeply harmful, lasting, and violent effects—for both men, and for trans women.

For Lucas, a 40-year-old man from Brazil, the consequence has been a lifetime of depression. He’s been attracted to, and dated, trans women since he was a teenager, but, neither friends nor family knew or know about it, he said. In 2011, he began experiencing depression, which he attributes to “a long time hiding and not having anyone to speak about my attraction and involvement with trans women.” At that point, though, it was manageable.

Then, in 2013, Lucas fell in love with a trans woman named Natasha. “At the time we met, she was in prostitution, and I was a client,” he said. “We became friends and went to the movies, bars—just regular things every couple does.” It was the happiest time of his life.

After a year of dating Natasha, Lucas was tired of hiding, and felt it necessary to finally share this increasingly important part of his life with another woman he loved: his sister. Like Owen with his girlfriend, Lucas optimistically hoped that his sister would accept him. Instead, she went into a rage. She said she couldn’t understand why he was “doing this to her and to the family,” he recalled. She threatened him, promising that his “life would be ruined” and that his whole family would turn their backs on him if he didn’t end his relationship with Natasha. He believed her. “I thought I was the worst person in the world because of what my sister said.”

Horrified at the thought that his sister’s promise of ruin would come to pass, Lucas set fire to his life. In the days and weeks that followed, he slowly removed himself from Natasha’s life. But Natasha, he says, was obviously the one, and pushing her away tore him apart. He began thinking about suicide, and has continued contemplating it ever since. “I could not carry on,” he said. “[My sister’s] words marked me for life.” His sister never mentioned it again. “I regret the day I spoke to her about it.”

Today, Lucas has a son, and fears that openly dating a trans woman would negatively impact his son’s life. He says he’s shared his attraction to trans women three times in his life and has received a negative reaction every time. “So it just feels like you are alone, and will have to deal with it yourself for the rest of your life.”

Lucas used to be a relatively healthy, happy, handsome man in love. While his sister has spent six years forgetting what she said, he has struggled with the desire to end his life. “I take medicine to get out of bed, and to go to sleep,” he said. “I really wish the world was different. I feel like I am an actor living a soap opera in which I hate my character, and what he represents.”

[godsbutterfly]

“Happiness Comes From God: A Mom’s New Year Reading Plan.” By Karen Stubbs.

Jesus answered, “Everyone who drinks this water will be thirsty again, but whoever drinks the water I give him will never thirst. Indeed, the water I give him will become in him a spring of water welling up to eternal life.

We are all needy people. We look all around us to find people or things to fill our needs. We look to our finances to buy us things to make us happy, our husbands to make us feel valued (or special), a career advancement to make us feel important, and our children to make us feel loved.

But these things will never completely fill the void inside of us because God did not create them to fill us; only He can do that.

In order for me to find true happiness in life I need to acknowledge a few things:

I am a needy person.

Even though I try to fill the void in my life with material things or relationships, they will never fill that void.

I need God and must ask Him to meet me where I am and to fill me with His fullness.

Once I come to grips with these truths, I am ready to tackle the problem of my neediness and constant discontentment issues. But I must be honest with myself first.

After you declare your empty state to God, ask Him to fill your void. Ask God to quench your thirst to be valued, listened to, and acknowledged by your loved ones. God may use your husband to fill a need in your life, but realize that God is the ultimate giver, not your husband.

In viewing the world this way, you will take so much pressure off of your loved ones and begin to accept them as they are instead of placing unrealistic expectations on them all of the time.

Pray this today:

I acknowledge today that I am a needy person. Father, I ask that you will meet me where I am, and fill my every need. My natural tendency is to look to my husband or my children to meet my needs, but God, I am realizing I should not do that. I must look to You. Give me discipline to reprogram my mind to follow after You and to look to You for my happiness.