#just throwing this out into the void because I need to vent

[dont-tempt-me-frodo]

I thought I knew you. Five years of friendship and 3 years in a relationship, but it turns out I didn’t know you. I can’t believe it took me so long to finally find out who you are. Thinking back on everything now, there were signs and red flags that I just didn’t see, or understand at the time. I learned more about you in the past month than I did in five years. I never thought you’d be capable of breaking my heart and betraying my trust in the way you did. Our relationship ended somewhat amicably, but you blew up our friendship in a spectacular fashion. And for what? Why? At this point, it doesn’t really matter anymore. I made the decision to cut you out of my life because I had to protect myself. There was no way I could continue trying to salvage a friendship after what you did. I invested so much of my time and my energy into us. I was there for you through some of the most difficult times in your life. I was ready to commit to you and our future and now… it’s all gone. And I’m left with a deep ache in my heart and my soul. I’m grieving. I’m so angry, and hurt, and sad, and lost, and lonely. They say time heals all wounds and eventually I’ll get past this and I’ll be okay. But right now, I’m not okay. And everything is too much. I thought I knew you. But I do now. The real you. And it sucks.

[prick-love-for-arting]

... Mhm

[the-skaia-collecve]

I can not live laugh love in these conditions

[meowyl]

.

[junovae]

can you write about the sexy fish man (you know the one)

why yes of course i know which sexy fish man you're talking about!

soft hits, hard truths

sebastian solace x reader ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ slight nsfw

artwork: artwork is NOT mine. art is by @grub-hut on tumblr. go check out their work. sebastian mf solace, everyone

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT.

summary: after a misunderstanding, sebastian refuses to let you go to bed angry with him. determined to make amends, he begrudgingly starts a pillow flight.

cw: sebastian solace x reader, fluff-ish, suggestive themes of intimacy (MDNI), sebastian is bad at comforting, he tries anyways, you've known him for a few weeks now, a sort of romantic relationship is already established between you two, his shop has a shower and spare mattress in the back, thank goodness he had soap and pajamas, amends are made if you know what i mean

wc: 916

a.n: in honor of beating pressure and sacrificing my posture in order to do it, cheers.

· · ─── ·𖥸· ─── · ·

water droplets fall onto the cement floor as you wring the rest of your wet hair dry. fortunately, sebastian solace had allowed you to stay in his shop for the rest of the night after a day of running from the monsters of the hadal blacksite. unfortunately, you had just found out that he was the primary reason you were being chased by said monsters in the first place.

you walk out of the barely functioning restroom into a cozy little cubby-space just behind his shop. sebastian watched you dry the rest of your hair as you walked towards a broken mirror and started combing through it with your fingers. fuck, he thought to himself. he so badly wanted to be the one to brush the rest of your hair just so you didn't have to lift a finger. but of course he wasn’t going to say that out loud.

"will you talk to me?" he mumbled under his breath, making his way towards you. you eye him from the mirror but continue doing what you're doing. you feel his presence behind you and sure enough, you watch him lean down and rest his forehead against your shoulders.

you smelled like vanilla. you smelled like the vanilla he used to smell during the winter holidays and it was driving him insane. "i'm sorry, okay?" he whispers. now this caught your attention. "did the sebastian solace just say the words 'i'm sorry' to me?" you turn around and walk towards the makeshift bed. he follows you. "i don’t believe it.” a sigh escapes your lips, plopping down onto the mattress and covering yourself with the blanket. you turn away from him.

“i didn’t mean for things to turn out this way- well, okay i did, but i didn’t expect meeting you midway through my plans.” sebastian scratches the back of his neck, staring at your figure. “fishbait, if you hadn’t crawled through the vents and into my shop, i wouldn’t care who gets eaten by those monsters. but you did, and now it sucks seeing you get hurt because now i…”

he trailed off, his voice catching. shit, this was hard. years of solitude and roaming the dreadful cold hallways of his captors’ prison had hardened his heart. he didn’t expect it to happen, but your presence and excessive bantering had brought back an excitement in him (though he would always mask it off with annoyance). all sebastian knew was that even though life sucked, seeing you made it suck less. he couldn’t take it anymore. he needed to hear your voice again. the void of silence between the two of you was starting to create an atmosphere of distance. he couldn't care less if the world hated him, he hated it back. but there was no way in hell he would allow you to look at him with such loathing. panic settling in him, sebastian impulsively does something that catches you off-guard. he grabs the nearest soft pillow and throws it in your direction. it hits your face.

you quickly turn around and sit up to shoot him a sharp glare, pillow now in hand. “are you serious?” you seethe.

“i’m dead serious,” he said, grabbing another pillow. “you’re mad at me? fine. but you’re not shutting me out.” before you could react, he throws a second pillow. this time, it lands in your lap.

he notices a flicker of something crossing your face - anger, disbelief, and… maybe a hint of amusement.

“big mistake,” you shoot him a sly smile.

you launch the pillow in his direction and suddenly, there was war. more pillows flew, tension unraveling with each hit. the both of you were laughing now, dodging attacks and running around the small room. it wasn’t fair that he was larger than you in size but you could make do. and plus, he was extra careful in making sure not to hit you too hard. and here in this moment, seeing another side of him, you realize that you could never stay mad at sebastian solace for too long.

tired from the fight, you trip onto the mattress and fall backwards. he follows suit and lands on top of you, your faces inches apart, panting and out of breath. he supports himself with one arm as he gazes at you with an unreadable expression. “do you forgive me?” he whispers, breathless. the room was a mess, but your silence had been broken.

you plant a soft kiss on his forehead. it was truly unfortunate that the both of you were placed in this prison against your wills, but you knew that he would never intentionally hurt you. “i forgive you.”

oh fuck, he melted. impulsively, he slides one of his hands behind your back and pulls you closer to him, taking your mouth in his, kissing you fervently. your arms tighten around his neck, kissing him deeper, soft moans and grunts replacing the silence. in a heated frenzy, you guide one of his hands downwards. he grumbles as he lifts your shirt up, trailing wet kisses down your stomach.

you smile, feeling the warmth of his mouth. “to make up for you nearly killing me, does this mean i get a discount at your shop tomorrow?”

he laughed, a warm, deep and genuine sound that softened the space between you. “i’d give you a discount every day for free, fishbait… but this,” he whispers sliding down your pajamas, “this is just a huge bonus.”

· · ─── ·𖥸· ─── · ·

[goawaypleasenowareyoukiddingme]

Venting Into the Void

Tw: Mention of rape, abuse, and Vivziepop.

Vivziepop claims to care about SA survivors but has a soft core rape porn playlist on her Zoophobia account. She defends fetishizing rape with a passion and talks over SA survivor voices. There are many times where consent is not taken seriously in her shows. Verosika raped Moxxie, Stella raped Stolas, Stolas sexually harasses Blitzo, Angel Dust sexually harasses Husk, all for laughs.

Vivziepop doesn't care about rape at all, and yet so many people want to pretend she does. It's sad. Her shows are so popular and you can't escape them. If you go to a convention, fanart of her works are everywhere and cosplayers too. Granted you don't have to like Viv to like her works but honestly, her shows aren't that great to begin with. The writing is inconsistent. It treats the audience like they're toddlers by telling and not showing.

And yet despite being capable of bashing a topic like "Charlie has Daddy issues" non stop with other characters saying it rather than showing it. There will scenes that require much more information, nuance, and care like the Loser Baby song. A song that fails to convey the message she tries to portray. It also sucks that Joel Perez sees no issue with people romanticizing the relationship between Angel and Valentino.

He will tell people critical of this to go watch Bluey rather than actually using empathy and critical thinking skills. On the plus side it seems Alex can understand valid critique of the show, as he was alright signing a critical video with Limus. Good on him. I'm glad despite Vivziepop clearly being an abusive person, that Alex will do as he pleases.

It's sad when people like Salem, Michael, and other employees get abused by her, and in Michael's case silenced. I hope that Vivziepop's victims get to live good lives. I just really wish more people could open their eyes and see that Vivziepop isn't a good person, that she doesn't deserve support. She's a privileged ritch woman that gets everything handed to her.

She doesn't need to be coddled, she already has enough yes men surrounding her. She'll never grow as a person for this exact reason. She throws away anyone who's even slightly criticizes her and keeps people who blindly agree with her. Also people still call her work independent but it's not anymore. Hazbin is a part of A24 and Amazon Prime. And Helluva has animation outsourced.

Independent animation has lee way for lower pay because it comes out of the creator's pockets typically. But Vivziepop doesn't have an excuse. She can pay her employees much more. She's seen on Instagram constantly taking vacations and splurging her money at restaurants. She actively chooses to not pay more. I can't escape Vivziepop related stuff in real life in convention situations and I can't escape it on the internet either.

Many artists that I genuinely like draw fan art of her shows. And I can't just unfollow every artist that makes that content as some of them are my friends and it seems like almost every single artist is doing it anyhow. I'd be following significantly less people if I were to stop following people who make Vivziepop work fan art.

I wish I could stop seeing related works to her on my timeline, it drives me crazy. Also Sam wrote that Valentino could be redeemed in season 2 so that only furthers the fact that Vivziepop truly doesn't give a fuck about representing rape in a caring way. Given that Vivziepop has drawn pedo, zoo, and other gross artworks, I wouldn't be surprised if she had committed some kind of crime herself.

It doesn't help her case when she promotes real animal abuse in Japan and is a pro-shipper. I saw someone say she's just a quirky millennial and harmless but she's anything but that. She hurts real people with her actions, she's kind of a monster.

Danm this was long but I just needed to anonymously get this off my chest. Sorry if there's any spelling or grammatical errors in this, it's just a vent not a professional article.

[fuck-your-proana-blog]

TW: Doing really bad right now-ALL BECAUSE OF ANOREXIA, MY EXERCISE ADDICTION, AND MOST RECENT SUICIDE ATTEMPT!

I'm in so much pain from both my older and newer diagnosed physical conditions I just want to throw in the towel. On top of the full-body pain conditions, I can't enjoy a meal without the torture of my throat trauma from being intubated making me feel like I'm choking and like stuff's constantly stuck in my throat ALL DAY after my first meal. I can't cook a meal or do any chores without my wrist feeling like the hole in my ligament that I needed surgery for (and never got, yet continued to lift weights with for years like an idiot) is brand new, so I need to ice my wrist and back for hours after I cook (even with my husband's help). Also the spinal pain is getting worse and more extensive every damn day; obviously worse when I'm cooking because I'm standing, measuring, grabbing ingredients, etc. Food used to be my favorite thing- sure I starved, but when I ate it was the highlight of my day.. but now there's no more joy from food due to my throat issues and the pain from preparing it. Nothing gives me joy but the quality time my husband and I spend together and my cat- but the good times with my husband are limited because I'm always so miserable and he's sick of doing all the chores, so we argue a lot now.. and my cat is not as cuddly as our other super senior cat that died last year (my cuddle buddy and constant companion😔).

I know I did this to myself, but I didn't mean to. I just focused on getting my "perfect body" to distract myself from my actual life.. I was trying to (for several years literally) run from my sexual trauma/C-PTSD that was very emotional-abuse heavy, with broken family shit, physical and emotional bullying, etc. because I only started facing the fact that this trauma existed in 2010, and with no other way to cope with my sexual revulsion due to the facing of my trauma, exercise helped me feel better and get out frustrations. I was already psychologically disabled, and being denigrated for that by everyone in my family, I felt like I had nothing else to offer the world than what others have often referred to as my "beauty." (Note: I do not now or ever have considered myself beautiful- only others have) Now my stupid, excruciating as well as dumb way to obtain more so-called (and mainstream) "beauty" through overexercising and starvation has made it so I haven't showered for two days despite my OCD SCREAMING at me that I'm not clean, I'm filthy, I'm disgusting, etc., (more trauma-reactions) but due to my many excruciating physical disabilities I can't even get out of my damn recliner to shower more than a few times a week, when I used to shower up to 3 times a day.. and forget restful sleep- I wake up every few hours to change my ice pack and readjust my 6 pillows to help cushion my broken apart bones, lack of cartilage, damaged nerves, osteoarthritis, etc.

It's not worth it. I wish what I tried worked.. my life is only worth living now because if it ended my loved ones would suffer. I am only alive so I don't hurt the people who love me.

YOU CAN AVOID THIS FATE- if you plan on having a long term restrictive ED, and think that it's some "perfect solution" to be skinny forever, you're wrong. So wrong- I spent 13 years wasting my life to get the "perfect body," I was used as thinspo on here, praised for my tiny body, called "body goals," everything the pro anas on here claim to want. But you can only live that life for so long.. with my routine, the length of that particular life was 13 years (and that was pushing it). Now I am suffering more and more each day, with no relief in sight.

I will continue to post these reality checks- sure they're good for my need to vent my frustrations, but if just one person reads this and thinks twice, it has served a purpose beyond my ability to complain into the void of Tumblr.

Get help. You are never "not sick enough"- if you abuse your body in any way with food, exercise, or medication you deserve help.

You do not want this life. I gained all the weight back due to being so unintentionally immobile due to the damage anorexia/overexercising caused; the osteopenia from it definitely helped progress the degeneration of my spine and other bones, as the weight gain was aided by the complete destruction of any metabolism I had.. so now all I have is the triggering memories on Facebook, old pictures shared by family- most of whom do not know how much it hurts to see my sick pictures.. they all knew what was happening, but I've only confessed it to a few- they all make sure to talk about it behind my back though!🤬

Save yourselves from this. Save yourselves from a life much worse in EVERY WAY than not being "the skinniest girl in every room." 🙄

If you have any recovery questions or need help trying to recover, please reach out to me on any of my blogs- you're not alone.❤️

[belit0]

HEYYYYYY!!! Thank you so much for working and accepting my request! I was the one who asked for the Madara oneshot where his wife gives birth to his son. IT TOUCHED ME SOO SOO MUCH YOU ARE SUCH A GOOD WRITER A LITERALLY CRIED AS I READ THE PARTS WITH IZUNA IT WAS TOO EMOTIONAL. You did so much more then i expect and i can’t thank you enough. The way how you wrote that Oneshot, the way how emotional ans touching it was, you let me cry too much for that it was too good you brought me to tears!😭 i love your writing very much and i love how unique ans beautiful your works are because you alway work on such good request and that is what makes your writing style so special. No one would be able to write auch complicated characters as Indra and the Uchiha’s in such a realistic and relate able way, you truly have the talent and if i am being totally honest, i read your works almost every time no matter how many times i read them. They never get boring for me because of your well written way you represent the characters in your oneshots or request, you do have my talent because you are the only one who actually sees the truth behind the cold mask of the Uchiha’s. You write them so realistic ans that is what makes me read your writings all over again. I love this blog so much it’s my safe place. Whenever i feel down or in a bad mood, i would always check ip on your blog to just read your mesmerizing work! (I am so sorry if i write to much but i honest just CAN’T stop to praise you since you and your blog means so so much too me😭‼️) If i may, i wanted to ask for another request for Madara. (I apologize again, i can’t get enough from this man😭) About Madara confession his love to his s/o after pushing her away and hurting her countless times because well.. he is Madara. How will he confess it to her after denying it for so long? I know it’s a very.. weird request but i hope you will understand it. I love your blog and your the only writer i do admire so much. Taking care of all your request is truly admire! Your work’s are so overrated just like you because you are way too good at writing the Uchiha’s. There is no need to accept my request, i just wanted to make you feel loved and appreciated. You mean so much to me please never disappear🫶🏻

You have no idea how happy I am to know that this is someone's safe place. This blog started as a tacit and fictional way to vent, my own safe place, and it makes me so happy to know that it extends to others, that someone feels comfortable and supported here, that's all I've ever tried to achieve!!😭🙌🏻💕

I'm not going to lie, my main idea was to shatter hearts with that Oneshot, ghost! Izuna always manages to get to everyone's core👻❣️

Regarding the Uchiha, I always do my best to make them realistic, they have very complicated personalities that are sometimes hard to deal with, but I do my best🤠

Coincidentally, Indra is the love of my life, and the most difficult of all!!!! There is not a single piece in which I don't find it hard to work with him, a pleasant effort of course, but complicated all the same👀💫 Love me a good ass challenge

He is unable to define what hurts more, the agony of having pushed her away or the grief of now missing her madly. Madara carries an ancestral struggle with his complicated feelings from the time he learned to stand on his feet, always confused and unsure of what is going on inside him.

The only thing he could always identify was anger, violence, dark sensations in his chest that compelled him to go out and kill, vent, yet he never learned to cope with those things considered good, healthy, beautiful.

(Y/N) brought for him a whirlwind of unknown experiences, a leap into an uncertain void, not knowing what awaits at the bottom, throwing himself into the possibilities she proposed. He didn't plan to fall in love, didn't plan to feel anything about her, but there was a magic around this woman that left him dumbfounded, entangled in his own lack of understanding.

Every time he came across her, his heart dropped to his stomach, his palms sweated, and he felt an enormous urge to run away. He feared he had been under powerful Genjutsus the first few times, but Izuna confirmed it was simply... love.

After recounting the symptoms over and over again, his younger brother explained that is the exact sensation everyone experiences when meeting someone they like, the body's way of confirming attraction, desire for that person. He refused to believe it at first, but the more the situation was repeated, the more he finally gave in to accepting what he never asked for.

Madara does not have time for affection and love, he does not have the need of a woman in his bed nor does the political context demand an heir, so he tries to fight against the loss of control he feels every time he sees her.

(Y/N), without any effort, manages to make his knees go weak, to make him feel conscious about his appearance, insecure about how he wears his hair or what clothes he chose that morning. He didn't ask for these sensations, he didn't ask for these thoughts, yet the woman managed to infiltrate his heart and ignore all the barriers he raised over the years.

He found himself entangled in her arms, consumed by her kisses, occupying nights he should use to plan war strategies on her, between her legs and caresses, devouring her body and soul. Her presence managed to monopolize his every focus of attention, growing fear deep within every time he pondered the possibility of losing her.

What would happen if the Senju found out about her? If the enemy manages to get information about the woman the Uchiha Leader loves, the one he intends to share his life with? (Y/N) became an easy target since she entered his world, always unintentionally walking on the edge of danger. Several times she has explained nothing matters to her, that she just wants to be with him, to dedicate her life to loving and protecting him.

Yet, protection is the only thing Madara could think about.

He can't expose her, can't give her away to the enemy, can't abandon her to war and the possibility of being used to get to him. Under these same pretexts, he decided to break her heart into a million pieces the night before his next battle against Hashirama.

With all the regret in the world and feigning a convincing coldness, he asked her to move to the most remote part of the Uchiha compound, never to see her again. All his efforts went into keeping a serious face, the same expression he would use to speak to the council, erasing any trace of affection in his eyes. He had to lie, tell her she was only seen as a method of physical release, a hole to spend the cold nights with, nothing more than an object.

(Y/N) couldn't help her tears, breaking down in front of him, perfectly buying the facade he set out to maintain, not seeing the truth behind his terrible words. From that day on she stayed away, not on his radar, removed from any area Madara was in, fulfilling his wish.

As time passed, he forced himself to concentrate on what really deserved his attention, to fill his days with even more business than was already present, avoid thinking or having free time, thus coping with pain. Months went by, his metaphorical wounds continued to fester, and nothing managed to erase from his mind and memory the wonderful memories (Y/N) planted.

No matter how hard he tried, she was always there whenever he closed his eyes.

Nothing prevented them from meeting again, by chance, outside the compound, and the emotions it brought him were uncontrollable. Seeing her back, after so much time and events in between, sunk in the pressure of winning a seemingly endless war and up to his neck with anger and rage against everything, felt like a blessing.

Without thinking about what happened he clung once more to the light (Y/N) always provided in his life, consuming every last drop of love she had for him. He never managed to put his feelings into words, to explain to her how much he loved her, how much he felt for her, believing only his kisses would be enough to make her understand.

He never said "I love you", but always voiced an "I don't like you" when needing to get away.

His bubble of happiness burst again after he received a letter from Hashirama, pleading for peace between the clans, deeply questioning him by saying, "We don't want our women to get hurt." Not only did he feel anger and helplessness, but also realized the Senju were already aware of (Y/N).

That night of pain and breakups repeated again, Madara retelling once more how he doesn't love her and that she needs to get away from him, internally dying to hug her and beg her to forgive him for everything, to confess the deep love he has for her.

Still, the woman respected his wishes, becoming invisible inside the compound and disappearing from his sight, but this was not enough. Having her inside the Uchiha territory implied a terrible danger, and he had no choice but to throw her out of the place, to demand her to leave if she didn't want to die under his hands.

"Should you not depart, you little nuisance, I'll ensure your new home is hell."

His soul, bleeding from the agony of having to watch her leave again, of having to use harsh words and unreal threats because he knows she wouldn't go otherwise, cracks even more, a constant ache in his chest that makes him feel like he's about to have a heart attack.

He witnessed her gather her things and walk out the front door, abandoning everyone and everything, until she became an indistinguishable stain in the distance.

That hurt, that grief, the suffering of losing her again, was the fuel he needed to face the Senju for the last time, fed up with having to sacrifice everything good in his life for a cause that didn't even belong to him.

The founder of the clan had reason to stand up to them, but the generations that followed him did not. Madara is ready to make a change in history, to stop the senseless killings, the baseless violence.

Before the usual confrontation begins, the two most important hands in the world came together in a peace agreement, a future project to improve the lives of the two families. Of course it was difficult, but no Uchiha ever perished in battle again, no Senju shed their blood in the face of the enemy, and all found a common ground of agreement and understanding to live together peacefully.

The village was formed, populating quickly with people from all over, and among all the administrative and agreement problems, Madara failed to notice the presence of the person he cares most about in the world.

He bumps into her one day, unexpectedly, as he walks by with hands full of papers for Hashirama to review and projects proposed by the people, motions to be dealt with. His head is so tangled in political affairs and formalities he fails to notice when he collides with her head-on.

The reunion is both terrible and wonderful, past wounds opening and buried loves resurrecting, everything he forced himself to forget, all the feelings he had to deny to survive and protect her, exploding inside him like the time bomb it always was.

"You can't kick me out of the village, you're not the leader here." Is all she says before running off in the opposite direction, countenance full of anger and resentment, without any interest in talking to him or entertaining him with formal pleasantries.

Madara does not react in time to stop her, to explain, to rectify all the damage he did to her, yet when he finds himself sitting at his office in the Hokage's tower, he reviews all the village documents, discovering where (Y/N) lives.

That same night he goes to her door and knocks on the wood with a timid, reluctant hand, actions uncharacteristic of the Uchiha leader. He is greeted by a thoroughly pissed-off woman, nearly slamming the door in his face, but Madara is quick enough to put a foot in the middle and beg for permission to explain himself.

"Why should I let you in? After everything you said to me? Everything you did..."

"I... I was trying to protect you, guard you from them, I-"

"Protect me? It was you I needed protection from. You said way too many horrible things for them all to have been lies."

"I didn't mean anything I said, (Y/N), none of it was true, I had to get you out of the fire line-"

"Fire line, you say? You kicked me out of the safest territory I could be in, without any assistance, where the "enemy" could find me. In fact, they did, and fucking Senju Hashirama saved me from starving to death!"

At the statement, Madara can only stare at her dumbfounded, oblivious to all these details, not knowing what became of her once she disappeared. Sure, both territories were close during the time of war, but he hoped she would avoid the place she knew as hostile.

"You destroyed the life I knew just because of what was internally happening to you. If you wanted to protect me so badly, if you truly wanted to shelter me from danger, you would never have broken my heart like that, never have given me away as you did to a cruel and uncertain fate."

Madara can only cast his eyes down, grieved, even more dismayed by the situation and the result of everything he himself caused, indignant with his own actions and the terrible way he handled everything.

"I would appreciate it if you stayed out of my business, and let me live, finally in peace." She slams the door in his face, the Uchiha powerless to keep strength in his leg and stop it from happening, defeated and desolate, furious, hurt, all at the same time. His enemy saved his woman's life, the very one he threw away by trying to take care of, and now he must deal with it.

[superstar-nan]

Fight Tooth and Nail

Day 3: Part 2

Summary: You search your best friend's phone for answers and contemplate your hatred while looking at old photos again.

Words: 4,232

Fun stuff: Descriptions of undead bodies and slight gore. Strong swearing. Feelings of grief, toxicity, hatred, and dependency are explored. Oh, also Springtrap gets named finally. It only took 7 chapters.

First ♡ Prev ♡ Next

───── (\ /) ─────

“You’re unbelievable,” Michael said, his British accent and shredded vocal chords adding an extra bite to his tone.

You weren’t even looking at him as you plugged your best friend's phone into the outlet by the night stand, “I was in and out so quick.”

“ You’re unbelievable, ” He repeated, this time sharper. “You lied to me again. ”

“No I didn’t,” You said, pointing to a bag of food while still focused on the phone. It was taking a while to boot up and you were waiting with baited breath.

Michael opened the bag, before throwing his hand up in frustration, “This isn’t even what I asked for.”

You waved him off dismissively.

He exhaled, exasperated, before plopping down next to you, “Where did you find it?”

You paused. “In the vent,” You said, after a beat of silence.

Michael scoffed, “Where did you really find it?”

He was getting wise to you. “In Spring Bonnie’s chest.”

“ What?! ” 

“And I’m fine! ” You huffed, finally taking your attention away from the sluggish reboot. Focusing on something else helped curb your impatience. “I was careful. I am careful.”

“Getting close enough to touch him isn’t careful, ” He said through his teeth.

“It was broad daylight!” You argued, “What was he going to do, kill me in front of everyone and-?”

“He could have.”

“But he didn’t.” You said, pointedly, while turning back to the phone. It was still restarting. Anxiety began creeping in your stomach. You might have to take the phone to a specialist if it didn’t start up properly.

“But he could have ,” He said, crossing his arms and leaning back against the bed frame. “I could tell them the truth, about you breaking in. That would keep you away from the attraction.”

“Oh, there’s an idea,” You hummed, before turning to him with a smug grin. “And then you can explain to them why it took you so long to tattle.”

Michael’s void gaze hardened on you and you could see him grit his teeth from beyond the abrasions in his cheeks. “You’re going to get yourself killed.”

You turned back to the phone, “No one likes a snitch, Michael.” 

“No one likes a liar, either.”

You would have been more annoyed by that, if your best friend’s phone didn’t light up. The screen’s light reflected onto your face, lighting your eyes with a mirror of the screen. The screen was heavily cracked, to the point that it was difficult pressing the passcode you had memorized, but when you finally managed it, you were greeted with a homescreen of you and your best friend laughing together. Your heart felt lonely, suddenly. Your brow twinged and your eyes were heavy. You wouldn’t cry though, not yet. Not in front of Michael (though, you already had who knows how many times now).

Pushing your sorrow down, you searched your best friend’s phone for anything that might point to what happened to them: photos, text messages, emails, recent locations on maps. You avoided their browser history for their sake, but also because you felt Michael leaning over you, watching the screen with you. He was close, very close to you; so close you could hear his shallow breathing. His arm propped himself up next to you, a hair shy from your thigh, and his jaw was next to your ear, above your shoulder. You were sure it was to get a better view of the phone, but you welcomed his presence anyway. You needed the support, even if it was just the close proximity of grumpy, nitpicking Michael.

You saw that you were the only person your best friend called that night. No relevant text messages were sent out to anyone, but in their email there was a short draft. It was written for a long string of emails between them and management at Fazbear’s Fright:

Dear Management, I would like to bring your attention to concerning working conditions I’ve encountered during my nighttime shift. I am just as excited as everyone else about the new addition to Fazbear’s Fright. However, I have noticed that since the recent addition of the old Bonnie animatronic, unusual incidents have occurred after hours. I believe the night time protocols of the animatronic cause it to act unusually. I hear strange noises in the vents and see the animatronic in different places on the camera frequently. It stares at the camera. It only responds to audio cues.  I don’t believe this to be normal for the animatronic. I would like to request an engineer to further examine the animatronic to ensure the safety and well-being of employees and future attendees when Fazbear’s Fright opens. Best Regards,

To Our Well-Valued Employee: Thank you for bringing this matter to our attention. Your safety is important to us, which is why we’ve added more audio cues throughout the building.  Unfortunately, this also means that the audio will need to be rebooted more regularly with the maintenance panel. Please let us know if you have any more questions! Sincerely, Fazbear’s Fright: Horror Attraction Management Team 

Management, That’s not what I requested, I requested an engineer to examine the animatronic. In fact, having to reboot the audio more frequently has made it more difficult to manage the ventilation, which is already difficult to manage on its own.  Sending a professional to evaluate the animatronic can significantly reduce the risk of any accidents and prevent expensive lawsuits. Please respond soon,

There was no response from Management.

Management,  I’m inquiring again about getting an engineer to examine the Bonnie animatronic. The animatronic is becoming more active each night. I’m not saying it's unsafe for the public, but it could be .  I would also like to request a second nightguard. It’s becoming extremely difficult to manage the maintenance panel and keep an eye on the animatronic. Respond soon, To Our Well-Valued Employee: Thanks to your email, we have contracted with a freelance engineer to evaluate the Spring Bonnie animatronic, who has deemed it safe for the public.  Thank you for your concerns, and please let us know if you have any more questions! Sincerely, Fazbear’s Fright: Horror Attraction Management Team

Management, How could you have possibly contracted with a freelance engineer in the one hour since I sent that email?  There’s something wrong with the animatronic, it needs to be evaluated for safety. And please hire another security guard for the overnight position. Respond soon,

There was no response from Management. Your best friend sent several more emails that were essentially repeats of their previous emails. There was no response from management for those, either. The drafted email was only partially completed:

Management, I am uncomfortable with my working conditions. I have sent several emails regarding my concerns with the Bonnie animatronic, which have been either ignored or lied to. I have also requested a second security guard for my shift, which has also been ignored. I regretfully will be quitting immediately. I am concerned for

That was it. There was nothing more written. They were going to quit. They were so close to quitting. Maybe one day earlier and they wouldn’t have had to call you. One day earlier, and this would have been one big outrageous story of workplace negligence they could’ve told you over ice cream. Why couldn’t they have quitted just one day earlier?

“You’re bleeding,” Michael took your hand. You were bleeding. You dug your nails into your palms.

You unclenched your fist with a set jaw. You wanted to set Fazbear’s Fright on fire and watch it burn to charcoal. 

Michael opened the bottom drawer of his bedside table, where he kept a diverse array of bandages and antiseptic. You furrowed your brow. You thought it was strange that he kept so much first aid by his bed, until you realized he might have to bandage himself often; being undead and all. He gingerly took one of your hands, and you let him. He dabbed at the bleeding so softly, it almost was like he wasn’t touching you.

Void eyes briefly glanced up at yours, and any emotion you tried to gleam from them was hidden when he returned his focus to your palms, “Typical corporate negligence, and even more typical of Freddy’s. Not even its horror attraction is free from it.”

“ Typical corporate negligence? ” You scoffed, your fingers twitching under his handiwork. “My friend might be- ... They’re missing.”

Despite your harsh tone, a small smile played on Michael’s scarred lips. A smile— an actual smile! On Michael! The corpse who never smiles! You were right, he did look better with a smile. And it wasn’t a charismatic charming one like in the wrong photo, but a gentle subtle thing, lost to those who weren’t paying attention. “Hate to say it,” He said, that soft smile decorating every word. “But this is tame compared to other Freddy’s places I’ve worked at.”

You were so stunned by his smile, you forgot you were angry. You softened your voice and stilled your hands, like his smile was a butterfly and you were frozen to keep it from fluttering away, “Yeah? Like what?”

His smile faltered for a second and you worried you scared him off. But then he took your other hand and began bandaging it, and his smile returned, “There was one place I was working at... I only worked there a day. They had me work a night shift alone... when one of the animatronics took a bite out of another guard’s head earlier that day .”

“ What?! ” 

His smile widened just slightly at your reaction, and it was strange seeing sunshine come from a corpse, “Yeah. He lost his frontal lobe. He lived, though.”

You blinked, looking at the floor as Michael finished tying the last bandage, “The animatronic did that?”

He nodded, and with a tight tug of the bandage, he gave your hands back to you.

You tested out the bandage, stretching your fingers. You didn’t think you needed them that bandaged. You had little moons on your palms, that was all. Your shins on the other hand... You kicked up one of your legs onto Michael’s lap. His smile was gone, replaced with a confused blush (one that you could easily see now that you’ve recognized it once), and then an annoyed scowl. “Please? I need my legs bandaged more than my hands.”

He grumbled something annoyed and British below your earshot, but took the antiseptic and dabbed it onto a cotton ball.

“Was the animatronic who bit-” You hissed in pain when Michael dabbed at the wound, “-who bit the guard also haunted?” Michael didn’t slow or acknowledge you when you flinched, which your pride appreciated but your sensitivity didn’t

Your words, however, did slow him. He blinked, his brow furrowing just slightly, “With that one... I’m not sure.”

You let out a small, breathy laugh, “I was joking.”

“Oh,” Michael said as he began wrapping your wound. He didn’t make eye contact with you.

“Are there more haunted animatronics?”

Michael didn’t respond.

“You’re kidding.”

“I didn’t say anything,” He said, finishing the knot on your leg bandage.

“There are more? ” You were shocked, inclining closer to him. “ More murderous robots?!”

He hoisted your other leg onto his lap, putting you off balance. He began dressing the other leg as he said, “ I didn’t say anything. ”

“Come on,” You huffed out a sharp exhale. “What, are you a ghost hunter? Is it your un-life’s mission to find every last haunted animatronic and solve their unfinished business?”

“You’re being ridiculous,” He said, his tone as cold as ice.

“ That’s where you draw the line at ridiculous? There are multiple giant, haunted, killer robots!” You paused in thought for just a second, “Is it...” You stopped yourself, swallowing.

Michael tied the last bandage on your leg. You set your legs down, testing them with small bounces of your leg. The bandages felt comfortable, surprisingly. 

“What.” He grumbled. It was less a question, and more a demand that you tell him.

“Are they ghost children? The ones who Spring Bonnie killed and...” You tried to think of a gentle word, “...put in those suits?”

“ ‘Spring Bonnie’ didn’t kill those kids, my dad did. And they weren’t ‘put in those suits’ , their corpses were stuffed in. Violently.”

“ I was being sensitive! ” You snapped, “And I’m not going to call the murdering psychopath robot ‘your dad’ ! We can call him something else like...”

“ For fucks sake .”

“Like!” You smacked his arm, “... Springtrap.”

“Springtrap?”

“Yeah. Springtrap.” You said, “Because he’s trapped in the Spring Bonnie suit.” A small smile graced your lips when you said trapped. You don’t know why that made you feel giddy.

“... That’s stupid,” He said bluntly, and you smacked him again.

“It’s clever,” You grabbed your best friend's phone and began tapping it with the tips of your fingers. “Now, shut up. I’m about to solve a mystery.”

He leaned over you again, once again within inches of your face looking over your shoulder. “I thought you didn’t find anything.”

“Not anything they sent, no. But...” You tapped the app with the icon of a radar display. You held up your wrist, revealing your best friend's watch, “Their watch is with me, and so is their phone, but they would never go anywhere without their earpods.”

Michael was silent as he watched you tap the label for their earpods, getting their exact location. As the app loaded, you held your breath. It didn’t have to be close. It didn’t even have to be in the same state. It just had to not be at-

Their earpods were located at Fazbear’s Fright.

Your heart dropped. Michael opened his mouth.

“ Don’t . Say. A thing. ”

Michael closed his mouth.

Tears threatened your eyes, but you refused to cry. You let your eyes burn as you poured your focus into explanations that eased your denial. Their earpods, like their watch, could’ve fallen out of their pocket. There. Easy. There’s no reason that couldn’t be the case. Even if they were dead still at the attraction, where could they have been? You searched that place up and down, there was no way their corpse they could be anywhere without you seeing them.

This was just another setback. Another mystery needing to be solved. One more mystery. You could do one more mystery.

“I can play a loud audio recording from the earpods.” You sniffed. You couldn’t look at Michael. “Not now, but tonight I could. To see where they are.”

Michael said your name. You dragged your eyes to him. His expression was neutral, as it always was. You suppressed a sigh of relief. If he pitied you, you would’ve erupted on him—something he of all people didn’t deserve. 

“Be nice,” You said, staring daggers into him.

He nodded, thoughtfully considering what you said, “I’m choosing my words carefully. You need to prepare for finding answers you don’t want.”

“Haven’t we had this conversation already?” You said, more bite to your tone than you intended.

He wasn’t offended by it, “No, what I mean is you’re avoiding reality.”

“I’m not, I’m just-”

“You’re in denial.”

Those were his carefully chosen words? You dropped your hands onto your lap in defeat. He was right, but he couldn’t be right. He couldn’t be right, because if he was, you’d fall apart too soon. You couldn’t fall apart, not while there still was a chance and not while you needed revenge.

“You’re right,” You said, and your voice cracked. You cleared your throat. “But... Not right now. Do you understand?” You couldn’t explain yourself.

If Michael understood, you couldn’t tell. His void eyes were impassive, his face unmoving. Not a single indicator of an expression crossed his features, and he was as still as if he were carved out of marble. You wondered if he was even breathing. But he nodded anyway, whether or not he truly understood remaining a mystery.

Your shoulders relaxed, “Thank you.” You looked down. You didn’t realize it, but you were holding his hand. You gave him a soft squeeze, before letting go. “I don’t think I can sleep, but I was thinking about grabbing some caffeine for tonight?”

“Is that another excuse to go back to Fazbear’s Fright?”

“No!” You protested, “Twice in one day? That would just be embarrassing.”

He looked at you, skeptically.

“Seriously! Plus, it would be too loud to find my friend’s airpods. It would be drowned out by everyone working.”

“Mm-hmm.” He obviously did not believe you. 

“Good lord, okay here.” You sent him your location on your phone, “There. Now you’ll know exactly where I am. Good?”

He looked at his phone. His eyebrows raised slightly, but other than that, he just said, “Grab me a pack of gum while you’re out. And a coke.”

You wrinkled your nose. Gum and coke didn’t sound like a tasty combination together. So that was where his sickly rotted sweet smell came from. “Will do.”

───── (\ /) ─────

You didn’t just pick up caffeine and treats. Plastic bags stuffed with remote controlled toys, tasers, and other tools and equipment filled your hands when you returned. You were sure if Michael was awake, he would be insistent you didn’t need the toys and lecturing you on how dangerous it is to wander the attraction. You were glad he was asleep.

You began tinkering with the toys, opening them up on the living room floor and transforming them into things more useful—they worked so well the night before, you were sure you just needed to make a few adjustments. As for the taser... you could only think to wear more rubber. And you’d have to save it for emergencies. You shuddered at the memory of lightning surging through your veins underneath the animatronic.

You pulled out a fireman’s axe from the grocery bag. It was light enough to feel comfortable in your hands, while heavy enough to put some power in a swing. 

You gave the axe a few test swings. Your heart fluttered at the thought of burying it deep into Springtrap’s torso, excitement tingling in your fingertips. You flexed your hand—the one you plunged into his chest earlier that day. You reveled in the memory of foul rot and mildew buried between your fingers, your nails scratching at the metal and bone ribs deep in his chest, and hearing the sick crunch as you ripped out of him. 

And then the claws, sharp and foul, around your throat. Not even tight enough to trap you.

Your brow twinged lightly as you pulled out your phone to see yourself in the front facing camera. A thin line of red was framed by deep blues, purples, and yellows in the shape of a large hand. When you first saw the bruise, it made you sick. It didn’t make you sick now, though you weren’t sure why. Even when you were repulsed by it, you had done nothing to hide it. Maybe it was an accolade; proof that you had survived an undead animatronic serial killer not once but four times now. Maybe it was a twisted form of penance for not being there for your best friend when they needed you most.

It was probably both, and maybe something else you didn’t recognize, but one thing was for sure. It certainly wasn’t healthy. But you were glad you didn’t hide it. You wondered if the animatronic would have plunged his claws into your chest—as you did his—instead of viewing his handiwork if you had kept your neck hidden. You didn’t doubt he could, and the motion would have taken the same amount of time and strength. But instead he and it stared at your neck, stretching your chin up with a pointed thumb to get a better view.

Hatred burned in your chest—a fire so hot it hurt . That would be his mistake; not finishing you off when he had the chance. Being so obsessed with his own wounds inflicted, he let you go free. You would make him regret it. You needed him to regret it. Your whole body itched to fill him with regret, anger, fear, hatred —anything other than hunger and delight . 

Your grip tightened on the fireman’s axe at the thought of the delight in those silver eyes when you wore your hatred on your sleeve. Strangely enough, you understood his delight—undead madman that he is. If he looked at you with furious, lashing hatred, you too would be delighted. 

...You didn’t want to think about what that said about you.

You idly rolled the axe in your hands. Springtrap had a habit of taking your weapons and using them against you, but you couldn’t imagine being torn apart by his claws was any safer than him swinging the axe at you. And the fantasy of getting just one good swing at his skull was too good to pass up. It might not kill him (you would have to ask Michael later what could kill him), but it certainly wouldn’t hurt to try. 

You placed the axe in your duffle bag, along with the altered toys and tools. Revenge sparked something powerful in you. It banished your grief the way the sun banished the moon—it was still there, but you could let yourself forget. 

Once everything was packed away, you went into Michael’s bedroom. There were still a few hours left until you two would leave for work. Michael was as still as the dead (in more ways than one), curled away from you. Even as you got closer, it didn’t look like he was breathing. It wasn’t until you were close enough to touch that you noticed the small, faint rise and fall of his chest. You were transfixed with the minute movement, and you wanted to brush the hair from his eyes to get a better look at him. 

You thought better of it, however. It was creepy to watch people as they slept, even undead grouches. 

Instead you turned to the bedside table. You opened it as quietly as you could, checking over your shoulder to see if you had roused Michael. When he didn’t move, you continued opening the drawer and pulled out the pile of photos. 

You couldn’t resist the pull Michael’s past had on you. Curiosity compelled you to understand what happened to him, and something darker gripped you to understand what happened to somebody else. 

As you slowly paged through each photo (decidedly skipping over the one with Michael’s charismatic father), you realized the gloomy boy stopped appearing in the pictures after a certain age—Michael couldn’t have been older than fourteen when you stopped seeing the boy. He had looked so moody and angsty in the pictures with the gloomy boy, and then... he looked troubled. Eyes that were once filled with defiance and braze were then downcast and lost. His posture was hunched and closed off in the following photos, similar to his posture now. Then, the little girl stopped appearing in the photos as well. There weren’t many more photos after you stopped seeing the little girl. You hoped that she hadn’t actually disappeared, but that the few photos just happened to not have the little girl in them. The haunted expression from Michael in the later pictures gave you the hunch that wasn’t the case.

You looked at the framed photo of Michael and the two children. Were they his siblings? What had happened to them? What happened to his mother, who hadn’t appeared in any of the photos? And then, there was the greatest mystery of all, why was he a corpse now?

You flipped through one last photo, and your heart skipped a beat. It was Spring Bonnie and the little girl. She looked overjoyed and bright as she held his hand, but your eyes could only focus on the animatronic. He was exactly as you imagined when you first saw the rotten Spring Bonnie: golden and warm and a delight to children, tied with a purple bowtie. 

Somehow, you knew William was in the suit, but it didn’t matter if there was anyone in it at all. You hated Spring Bonnie as much as you hated William. It didn’t make sense, but emotion rarely did. You were overwhelmed with a strange desire, maddening and bizarre: you wanted to cut out the Spring Bonnie image and paste it over the one with William. Then? Stab it, burn it, cut it up, stomp on it, crumple it up, throw darts at it- 

Michael shifted in his sleep and you were torn from your strange dream. Seeing Michael, the macabre melancholy corpse, softened something in you. Perhaps it was pity or even compassion, but it was a balm to the poison that was your hatred. 

With an amount of strength you didn’t know you had, you put the photos back and let the somber feeling douse your anger. You closed the drawer and laid down beside Michael, his back to you. You closed your eyes and leaned your forehead against his back, the smell of spoiled sweet enveloping you like a blanket. You could feel the subtle movements of his breath this way. You might’ve been able to hear his heartbeat, if his heart beated at all. Instead of straining to listen however, you closed your eyes and let his subtle movements and the melancholy lull you to sleep.

[earlyeveningskylight]

a letter - long personal vent ahead

I wrote a letter. I wrote it about a year ago to the person I haven't spoken to in what feels like a lifetime and yet no time at all. I wrote it as a vent and to process all the complicated feelings I had been wrestling with. All the things that I wanted to say. The things I should've said but now will forever remain nothing but some letters in a digital note. Maybe I was a coward for not saying these things. Maybe I was afraid and ran away because that's what I do best. But I can no longer change the past, and I'm learning to make peace with the regrets that I carry with me.

And a part of me is still selfish, selfish enough to share it here at least, so it's thrown out into the void where it will drift to worlds beyond me. So here I am, rolling this letter to tie with a bow, sealing into a glass bottle, and throwing it into the midst of the sea. Maybe someone will find it, maybe it'll resonate with them, and maybe they'll send it back into the deep waters for someone else to find. Or maybe it'll get lost at sea. Either way, I didn't allow the pain within my heart to drown me. I showed her love and affection before gently letting her go to be at peace.

(for privacy reasons, any identifying information has been redacted)

"Hey [redacted],

It’s been a while. Several months I believe. I hope you’ve been well and taking care of yourself. I’m sure you’ve probably undergone a lot of life transitions, I recall the last time we’d spoken that you’d mentioned some plans being put into motion, so I hope that’s all gone smoothly for you.

A lot has happened for myself. I’ve started my second year of my grad program. Still just as hard but I’m enjoying what I do and feel confident that this is what I’m meant to be doing in my life. Anyways, you’re likely wondering why the hell I even messaged you. I want to be clear, I don’t expect anything from you - not a response or anything else. That’s not why I’m sending this. I’m sending this mostly for myself and for a form of closure of sorts. But I also feel, after I’ve had the time and space to process, that you at least deserve an explanation for my disappearance and complete distance (just a warning, this is a long message. If you don’t want to read this, then understand. You can do whatever you want with this).

I’ll start off by apologizing to you. I’m sorry that I didn’t say any of this beforehand, and I’m sorry that I never initiated a conversation instead of dropping off the map. I’m not going to make excuses for that, I was generally just too afraid and didn’t feel like there was any space to do that. However, I don’t regret what I did, and I can’t say that I would do differently if I had to. I did what I felt I needed to do in order to start putting my own mental and emotional well-being first, and that meant being selfish, and not saying anything to you. But I am sorry for how it might’ve affected you, as well as for any other consequences of my actions.

I’m going to be very frank from this point on because I don’t wanna keep beating around the bush or dancing around the issue. The reason why I’d initially pulled away was because I was upset. I thought I’d moved past the initial silence and abrupt distance that happened [redacted]. I know we’d had a conversation about that [redacted] when you’d initially reached back out. But it took a while for me to realize how hurt I’d been by that, especially after [redacted]. I’d come to realize (after a while) that I didn’t deserve that, and it’d messed with me more than I’d thought it would. I’d spend those initial months blaming myself thinking that I’d done something wrong, that I hadn’t been a good friend, that I should’ve listened more instead of talking so much, that maybe I’d become too dependent, or too attached, or that I’d finally done something to screw everything up. Those months in [redacted], fucked me up to be completely honest with you. I was anxious and already going through so many life changes all at once, so to not have that friendship so abruptly made things even harder. I essentially went through a whole grieving process, because losing a [redacted] isn’t a light thing for me (I have a history of losing significant friendships and I never had an easy adjustment with those either).

Again, I’m not saying all this with any expectations. It’s not my purpose to guilt trip you, nor do I expect you to do anything with this message. You can disregard all of this if/after you’ve read it. Hell, you don’t even have to read it if you don’t want to and you’ve completely moved on. I’m just explaining what I should’ve explained to you months ago, going on a year ago, and I should’ve been clear and explicit with how hurt I was at the time. And this didn’t magically go away like I thought it would after you’d reached out. I thought things could go back to the way it had been. But it hadn’t, we’d both obviously grown in that not-so-short time period. And therapy allowed me to realize that I could either learn to find peace with the change, or I’d have to accept it and let go. So I tried to make peace with it. But that didn’t last long, hence why I sent you that message saying I was taking a “break”.

Which I will say now, I do owe you another apology for lying to you. That wasn’t entirely truthful that I was going on a break [redacted]. It was because I needed a break and distance from our friendship, because it was doing me more harm than it was adding positive growth to my life. I was at a point where my mental and emotional health started to suffer because of the hurt, and it was interfering [redacted]... so I couldn’t afford distractions or anything that was interfering with that.

Time has obviously passed, and I never reached back out. A part of me wanted to, but I didn’t feel like I could. I was trying to heal and move on, and I now only had painful memories attached to our friendship that are still hard for me. So I completely cut things off and eventually [redacted]. I’d let go of any expectations at that time and have decided to continue focusing on where my life is heading and where I feel that God is leading me. Right now, that means focusing on [redacted].

I want to reiterate, I don’t expect you to do anything with this information. The last thing I want is for you to feel pressure to respond or reach back out or anything like that. I don’t need that at this point. I don’t really need anything to be honest. I’ve had a lot of time to heal, been finding a sense of peace in my life, and I’m continuing to work on my own issues and junk that I have. I obviously can’t tell you what to do with this information or how to process it. Do whatever you feel is best for you: throw this whole message away, ignore it, talk about it with someone, it doesn’t make a difference to me. I apologize if this message reaches you while you’re in a difficult season or having a rough time. I cannot stress enough: you do what you need to do for yourself. I will continue to do the same for myself as well.

[hetalia-club]

Another rant about my ex hopefully the last one ever as I decided in some self reflecting to distance myself from him entirely, hopefully not even acquaintances.

I need to vent to someone, the problem is I don't have anyone I'm comfortable enough IRL to share all this with without them giving me those sad eyes and a 'there there'. So I'm using my blog. You don't have to read this. feel free to scroll on by. If you don't get triggered easily I would like if you did, you don't have to give me feed back or advice, I'm not looking for that. I'm mostly wanting to get what he did to me in the open so I can hopefully move on with my life. Throwing it into the void of the internet is better than writing it into a book and locking it in a drawer forever. People have to know how terrible he was to me. He shouldn't get off scot-free and have happiness while I still suffer. I tried to keep this as vague as possible and I'm not going to go into deep detail of all my abuse because a lot of it I still don't want to face for myself. Tw for abuse of all kinds. If you read this and at any point think "Hey that sounds kind of like my relationship." This is your wake up call to run far far away and not look back.

I Would just like to put it out there that I am NOT still in love with my ex. I hate that mother fucker. I hate that I probably gave him a confidence boost by trying to get back together. He does not deserve that. He deserves to be as miserable as he made me for 5 years. I genuinely believe he is objectively a terrible person. I know him very well and he is a very manipulative person. I don't think he truly cares about anyone but himself. I think the only reason he wants a GF is for someone to take care of his house chores and 'other' needs. That's it. He does not enjoy being in relationships. He does not like having serious conversations and he is mean as hell when you try and make him do something he does not want to do...which is anything. And he also won't tell you he didn't want to do it until after he did it and then he'll make your life miserable all week.

Was I just 'jealous' that he moved on? No, I don't think that's even correct really. I Truly think I'm petty and I don't want him to be happy. I want him to stay alone and miserable because that's all he deserves really. He mentally abused me for actual years why should he get to have a new girlfriend? He doesn't deserve one. He also STILL has not told me he's seeing anyone which I find INSANE because he texts me all the time. I normally reply lately I've been ignoring him. I know now that I mentioned getting back together he thinks I 'want him' and he gets off on the idea that I'm 'waiting around for him'. Well truly it couldn't be further from the truth. I think I hate him. I hate how he treated me, I hate how he moved on and I hate how he refuses to tell me, I hate his stupid Jeep Truck, I hate his temper, I hate his stupid uggo face, I hate his body, I hate his mustache he never trims no matter how many times I asked, I hate how he would bully me into crying and then once I started crying he would tell me I was over reacting and try and frame it like I were the crazy one and I would believe that I was. You don't have to beat someone to abuse them....Right? No he wouldn't do that...he loves me, he says so all the time so he must mean it, right? Some men are more upfront about their abuse, others hide it in crafty little ways eating away at you until you believe you are the problem. It MUST be you right? He keeps saying so. I mean... he's never hit you. He's never threatened you or scared you, he's never hurt you, or has he? Honestly you can't really remember, but it doesn't sound like something he would do. And he said he didn't. You're just over reacting like he says. You're hysterical. You need help. You should get therapy to make his life easier. You should stop bothering him so much with 'relationship problems' that you probably caused. You're such a bad partner. You're lucky he's with you. Who would want to be? You're actually crazy! You're losing your mind. He said jump, now ask him how high. He bought you designer clothes, how could he be abusive? He spent so much money on you! So what if he just wants you to do 'a little something' to pay him back for it later? It's not asking much. Those sunglasses were 600 dollars. It's just thirty minutes of your life it'll be over soon, don't be dramatic. Oh my god! It's not even that big of a deal you're over reacting again. He said he loves you, if you love him you should give him these things he wants, he gives you what you want, right? right?

Just a small story to help you understand the kind of relationship I was in for 5years. One weekend he asks me if I want to go out to eat. I agree. He tells me I can pick the place. I say I want Outback. I was super into Cheese Fries these few months and they have really good ones. He said okay. Didn't say it didn't sound good or maybe we eat someplace else. He said it sounded good and he would pick me up at 7, cool.

He picks me up and we're talking about dumb shit on the way to town we live in the middle of nowhere so it's a 45 minute drive to any decent civilization. Well about half way there I just casually ask him if he called ahead at Outback. This was right after Covid when everything just started to open back up, so places were doing limited seating, so I knew we would have to call or there was no way we would get a table. He said that, "yes" he did in fact call and he told them 8. After he said this our previous conversation just sort of stopped I would say something and he would give me like a one word answer but he was being really quiet. I knew something was up but didn't pry because he doesn't like that.

We get to Outback, go inside and I ask him. "did you give them your name?" as we wait in line at the host booth. He straight ignores me, pretends i didn't say a word. We finally get up there and i look at him and he just stars ahead at noth and I'm like "Um 2 for 8 under *his last name*" The lady was like "Yeah we don't have anything for 2 at eight at all." I look at him and i was like "Didn't you call?" And he was like "Hua? What? No..." And I was like. "Dude you said you called when i asked you in teh car?" and he goes. "You never asked me if i called, if you did i would have told you no." And i was like. "Why are you lying? I'm not stupid you can't tell me i didn't ask you that it was 20 minutes ago my memory isn't that bad. and he goes. "Okay well I didn't call!" In a loud whisper and then I look to teh lady and was like do you have anything? And she was like it's a 2 hour wait.

So I'm pissed obviously, he's pissed for whatever reason. We leave and when we get back in the car I was like. "Why did you lie to me about something so stupid?" And he starts SCREAMING. Telling me "He knew this would happen" That "I'm just mad because I didn't get my way" That I'm "Spoiled" and "I know you're just mad because we can't eat at Outback you always get this way about food!" and you know I was pretty pissed we were no longer eating at Outback seeing how he told me I could pick the place and I told him I wanted cheese fries. But I was mainly pissed that he just lied to me about something so dumb to my face and like I wouldn't find out when we got there. So he's yelling at me and I'm just sort of meekly trying to plead my case while he flies off the handle like a crazy person over something so dumb. And I was like "Just take me home, I don't want to be here anymore." he panics and was like. "I'm not taking you home I drove all this way to eat I'm not wasting money on gas because you're throwing a bitch fit. Pick somewhere else." So I picked Roadhouse, they also have cheese fries, not as good but beggars can't be choosers. I could tell that this choice irritated him. But he begrudgingly called and I could hear the phone conversation because it was just me and him in the car and the guy on the phone said it was only a 45 minute wait. He got of the phone and looked me in teh eyes and lied to me again saying they said "it was a two hour wait there to." I didn't tell him I heard the dude on the phone say only 45 minutes because I didn't know how he would react and honestly. It's been like 30 minutes now of just sitting in the car and him screaming at me so I'm just like "Pick anywhere I don't fucking care I would rather you took me home but just pick someplace. I will eat road kill at this point if we can just stop fighting" He insisted I pick so I was like "Okay Chilies, let's go there no one is ever there." They also have cheese fries, and our Chilies sucks so there truly is no one ever there idk how they are even still open, I believe it may be some sort of Mafia front, that is the only explanation. The parking lot is always empty.

Then he flips it... See this is how you start to see just how he would wear me down mentally until I just gave up. He goes. "Why do you always get to pick the place we eat?" And I was like "You told me to!" And he was like "Only because You'll get mad if I say anything about where we eat, see you're so mad at me now because we can't eat at Outback like you wanted everything is about you. You never ask where I want to eat." And I was like. "OMG WTF are you talking about!?" which was the first time I raised my voice this entire conversation. So he starts punching the steering wheel over and over again. So hard that the car is literally shaking and he broke the volume control button on his steering wheel. I'm just sitting there looking at him like 😒 when he stops there is like five minutes of silence as he just glares ahead of us in the parking lot and he goes. "How about *insert name of our local sushi place*" And I'm like "That's fine, let's just go anywhere." Then. There is a complete 180 on his personality. He's all smiles on the drive there, opening up a conversation about something (can't remember what) and I'm still seething inside because, that was all so stupid and immature. When we get there it's an hour and 1 1/2 wait and he tells the guy "yeah that's fine we'll wait" Like fuck you...we could have stayed at Outback. I still want French fries you bitch you took me to maybe the one place in town I can't order cheese fries, the whole reason we are out tonight, because I told you I was craving cheese fries. He took me to the bar and he was all flirty and he bought me an expensive drink with his typical. "Anything you want baby" Okay sure anything I want except fucking cheese fries, I guess! This is how he would get when he were trying to show off. But it was all just a mask he could take on and off as easily as normal people blink their eyes. I asked him. "So what was that punching the steering wheel all about?" And he was like. "What do you mean?" And I was like. "How you were repeatedly punching the steering wheel, why were you doing that? Was that supposed to be me or what?" Well if you guessed denial and gaslighting you would be right, though it happened less than 2 hours ago. According to him "I never did that. what are you talking about? I mean I put my hand on the steering wheel but I never punched it." So I dropped it. Why argue with someone who is a pathologically liar? We fought a lot because I never knew when he was telling me the truth because he would lie all the time about the dumbest shit, stuff he KNEW I was there for, conversations he denied happening. Ones I could literally prove with text messages and he would tell me, you took that the wrong way.

These are the kind of fights we had CONSTANTLY. (Along with some other bigger ones involving other things) So yes. They did start to feel normal. Being told I didn't know what I was talking about when I knew better was just a weekly occurrence. I always assumed he was lying to me. He eventually succeeded in convincing me I was 'crazy' and I went and got a major increase on my medication, with the promise from him that he would go to therapy for his anger issues, never happened. He all but forced me to go get on the birth control shot because I couldn't take the pill, it makes me violently ill and I have morning sickness while on it and am miserable every day. And the shot absolutely destroyed my hormones and I don't think my body ever recovered from it to this day. Which he assured me he would pay for, and then after the third shot I asked to him why hasn't he paid me back he claims this never happened and he never said he would pay for my birth control and why would he? It's not his birth control (okay crazy was of looking at it, i guess this is only for me then) So I told him I was going to go off of it because it was 300 bucks every month and I had to drive all the way to Fort Wayne to a woman's clinic. He said "No don't go off it I'll pay" he paid for it once, saw how much it was and was like "Fuck that" Also funnily enough the shot made me lose ALL attraction to him. Once it got regulated in my system I and nothing for him anymore, he disgusted me. Everything he said and did gave me the ick. I was in denial for about 2 years and tried to convince myself I did find him attractive and that it would come back eventually, never did. Both of these were medical abuse btw, I am aware of that now.

So as you can imagine as I was not attracted to him anymore I hardly wanted to sleep with him. But he would guilt trip me for it until I would feel bad and just do whatever he wanted. Even going as far as to mess with me in my sleep, I would pretend I didn't know but I did. It always made me so sad that the next morning he would act as though nothing happened, I know he knew I was awake, I am an extremely light sleeper. It's almost like he liked the idea that I didn't say anything to him about it. But he also knew I wouldn't say anything because I don't like confrontation and I knew he would deny it anyway. And this is just straight up SA

The entire idea of a new relationship to me now just feels so...what's the word I want? Tainted maybe? I don't think I believe in romantic love. I don't think he deserves love. I also don't think he's capable of giving love. I don't think he'll ever change, he has told me before. "This is who I am and I'm not changing for you or anybody." he truly believes he is a nice and good person which is the worst part. He thinks he's just fine the way he is. That everyone else is the problem. But the way I see it there is a common denominator. I should have realized when we first got together that his apprehension to tell me about ANY of his past girlfriends was odd. Not even their names. I still don't know who he's all dated or how many people or anything. Even if he insisted I give him my entire sexual history basically on the first month of our relationship. But I ask him who his last GF was and he gets all "You shouldn't be asking me that, the past is the past, don't worry about it" I thought that was weird he didn't even want to tell me names your GF knowing who your most current ex is, is not weird, it's very normal. He never spoke about them, it was like they never existed. But I knew he dated a girl with a kid once. I asked him about it and he pretended to not know who I was talking about, of course surprise surprise. Before we got together I overheard his cousin at a party say that he is a "very sneaky guy and a liar". She didn't say it in a nice way either she said it with a lot of distain like she was speaking from past experience. She was calling him for what he was and I wish I would have absorbed what she had said. I wish I would have asked her "What do you mean?" I wish could go back in time and tell myself not to say yes to a date with him. I should have known that the first time we ever hung out he pressured me to do things even though I pushed him away multiple times and he kept moving his hand back. I should have know he was terrible I should have been able to see it. I hate myself for not seeing it. I would always give him the benefit of the doubt, I would blame myself for not speaking up, not calling him out. But I know it was all him. He had me right where he wanted me, he knew me better than anyone he knew what I wouldn't react to out of social anxiety. I hate myself, but I hate him more for what he's done to the way I look at all men. Oh how I hate them! They all unfairly get blamed for the way he treated me and it's not fair. I hate that I meet a new man and assume he is terrible, a wolf in sheep's clothing. A liar and manipulator. I always wonder, what is he like when he gets mad? What does he think about the word no? I hate it. I've never hated anyone more. The worst part is I can't let him go. He is still in my mind after 7 months he still creeps in and I think about him. I wonder what he's doing, how he's doing. I hate it. And sometimes i miss him. But why? Why do I miss his abuse? What's wrong with me? What's wrong with him? Why do I fantasies about men who would treat me badly after being with him? Why do I feel like I'm not worthy of being treated like a decent human? Why do I only write relationships that are toxic and depressing with abuse and then apologies only for it to happen again? Is it a way of self therapy or is it something I really secretly desire? Why do I think that's what a relationship should be? Why can't I get him out of my head? Why can't I write cutesy romance with 'love' and kisses, why does it always turn into a tragedy? Why does it not feel like a good 'love' story until I've written abuse in some way? with someone hurting teh others what should be beyond repair for them to just forgive and forget? You all want to know like...the worst part honestly? In hindsight he kinda ugly fuckin' tho, fucking tragic. Like he's not even hot. What's the damn point.

[poognthebrainbois]

Rant/vent about current denial spiral under the cut - some context first: (*extremely brief mention of abuse/SA, medical history mention)

Had a fight with my mom about why I "still think it's DID." There were a lotta layers to that conversation, including:

- My (our) experiences don't line up with all the "research" she's done about DID

- according to her, co-consciousness doesn't exist and "you would have no idea there's another person [controlling your body], you can't be 'standing behind, watching.'"

- she doesn't trust anecdotal/personal experience of actual systems because "that's just people on the internet making up whatever they want"(paraphrase)

- she had also never heard of OSDD before. Even though she claimed she knows all about the DSM-5.

(medical trauma/history mention)

- I was never *physically abused or SA'd, therefore I don't have trauma. (She doesn't believe in emotional/verbal abuse, and all my *medical trauma/history was during/right after my birth (I was born 10 weeks early, had a surgery while in the NICU) so it doesn't count [I can't disagree with that])

(Might make a separate vent post about what we consider possible trauma that she "doesn't count")

- she told me "it sounds like you found something and stuck to it" (paraphrase) (meaning I learned about DID and just decided that was my problem.)

- made the same sweeping generalizations as always about my entire generation "wanting to be different" and "wanting to have something wrong [with us]"

(Again, I could make a separate vent post about what she says during literally every argument)

- told me (us) to "stop saying 'we' for Christ's sake!" (We will not.)

- she decided I (we) need to bring her "actual sources" of why I (we) believe it's DID/OSDD.

Which meant to us that we were gonna stay up all night doing extensive research.

Or that was the plan, before the denial set in.

(Recreation of Denial spiral below, just to throw it out to the void and be able to come back to it later to disprove I guess?? Could be triggering (lots of repetitive phrases, disbelief of trauma, derealization/depersonalization, there's a lot in here.)

What if she's right and I'm not a system? What if it's not DID or OSDD and I'm just desperate to make it into something? What if I actually don't have trauma and I'm secretly an endo??? (Any headmate tries to talk to me) You're not real, shut up. Why did I do this to myself? I ruined my life over something that's not even happening! Why did I let it get this far? Why am I still perpetuating this if it's not true?? It was never a problem until I did weed and "opened doors" that was just weed! I'm making up trauma that's not real! I want so bad to be traumatized so I can feel justified to be mad at my parents when really I'm just an entitled little bitch who's never had anything happen to them and needs to pretend they're worse off than they are! She has real trauma! She's actually been through real abuse and they've never done anything to me other than yell and that doesn't mean anything and I'm just a crybaby for being scared of getting yelled at they never actually threaten me (why do you remember the "I'll give you something to cry about" threat/phrase then???) and I cried over nothing all the time for no reason and I've just always been afraid of nothing. I can't believe I'm actually sitting here thinking about doing all this research just to prove a point?? Just to prove her wrong? That doesn't mean anything! That's not a good reason! I shouldn't even bother. This is a waste of my time. I should just tell her she's right and move on. It's not DID and (Losing my train of thought trying to write this, Jesus) I've just convinced myself it is but it's not. I've made it out to be more than it is so they'll care and that didn't work anyway. I can't believe this is happening right now. There's no way I got this far. That all of this really happened over nothing. They were just characters in my head! Why did I ever start believing more than that when I don't have trauma! Nothing that bad has ever happened to me and all these thoughts that keep coming up are fake and even if some of this stuff was trauma it wasn't in my childhood so it's not relevant. I spend too much time on the internet and I shouldn't just believe all of this stuff. What do I think I'm actually "relating" too? I should've just left it at Maladaptive Daydreaming and been fine. I've made everything worse for myself. There was a reason I stopped doing research on DID years ago! 'Cause I don't have trauma and I can't sit here and pretend I do. Why am I doing this?

(Etc etc etc. Front changed while writing this. I've been in co the whole time but Parker needed to step back for their own comfortability.)

We went back n forth for a while about a bunch of this stuff. Had a number of headmates hop in co-front just to prove a point, only for Parker to continue to tell them they're not real and it's "all me and I'm faking" bro you are at that point proving a point to yourself but okay.

Anyway, eventually Kiara took front and started on research anyway. We were up til 5am. Didn't finish but marked all our tabs so we could go back and finish it up the next day (yesterday). Did not get back to it yesterday 'Cause Parker got anxious.

We now have a deadline to present this shit. We've got a psych appointment tomorrow morning and Mom's leaving on Thursday to visit a friend. So we should get to it today. But they're really not ready for that conversation. Unfortunately we (Lio) told our psychiatrist that we might actually get to that conversation with our parents before our next appointment so now Parker feels like we have to. And if we don't then they'll be anxious about it the entire time Mom's gone which is also not productive.

There's a worry that if any of the rest of us try to explain it then it won't be taken seriously because we're not them. This whole situation is exhausting. We weren't planning on trying to have this conversation yet and now we're so rushed and there's a lot more pressure.

In any case, there's a chance we'll post an update if/when it happens.

If you've read this far, any kind of support would be appreciated. <3

-❤️

[princessteaanddrama]

This is just a vent unrelated to what's been going on:

I genuinely hate what the princessfur community has done. Quite literally a single, small group of shitty and horrible people have ruined so much.

I enjoy many of the aesthetics seen in the princessfur community. I am inspired by movies from my childhood, such as The Last Unicorn, the majority of Disney Renaissance movies, Dark Crystal, etc. Pretty much any sort of inspiration one typically finds with princessfurs within popular media is something that inspires me. There are character themes, design elements, aesthetics from these pieces of media that I would love to incorporate in my own art and worlds.

But now I can't. And no, it's not a "Well you can just don't do it this way," I actually just can't. Because if I do I risk either:

1) The artwork triggering insecurity with one of the many princessfur accounts, which will lead to an unnecessary public call out (because these people are incapable of handling their problems calmly and privately like an adult) and an onslaught of attacks, harassment, bullying, hate, death threats, etc.

OR

2) Because I engage with similar aesthetics people will assume that I am another princessfur and I will be associated with all of these awful people. It will be assumed that I am another one of these awful people. And it will be assumed I am toxic, insecure, and ready to throw out hate campaigns on people I don't like for liking similar themes.

So I can't engage with it at all because every single person that has associated with princessfurs, that has used those themes and contributed to vicious cycles of hate and bullying and frankly bullshit has ruined an entire genre of themes and aesthetics.

It cannot be enjoyed without the horrific taint these princessfurs have caused and every single one of them should be ashamed of themselves, ashamed of their behavior, just everything.

None of the princesses they admire would want anything to do with them because they are disgusting people.

Sorry I just really needed to get that off my chest. Thank you for the space to vent.

No worries, Anon. Scream into the void, and you made some great points.

[terraliensvent]

I'm the person who talked about how tired I was and how I stopped believing. Thank you terravent, in the midst of despair and dashed hopes I find strength in your answers and this whole blog.

Venting is truly therapy, I have written many posts here, some just as depressing, others as aggressive. I'm looking at this situation from the inside and now I realize it's really unhealthy. Sometimes I look back at old posts I used to write and that's how I realize how I used to feel. I'm sorry for using your blog as a diary.

What keeps me in this species are my "kids". But I think eventually it's time to put them out of it. Let your mom take care of you and give you a better life than staying in this Godforsaken species.

Thanks for everything, terravent.

I am the same person who is disillusioned and the same person who is consumed with paranoia. It's horrible how this species has made me such an anxious person. Hopefully I'll be stronger in the future.

Terraliens (was I believe) is my addiction. Hopefully tomorrow I will stop it. I've never felt this way before, never loved someone's ideas and someone's species so much. But I don't belong here, I think I should finally let this situation go.

post related

wow, this one did hit me hard

first of all i dont want any anons to feel ashamed for using me as a diary, i fuck around a lot on here but genuine vents are always welcome

congratulations on realizing you need to break the cycle. honestly ill admit terras is an addiction for me too, and im trying my hardest to walk away (in every way i can aside the blog)

hopefully leaving will help you find some peace, and if theres advice i can offer you is that you shouldnt wait until tomorrow to make a change, you should do it now. leaving the server is the first step, or if you feel like you need to you can void all your terras if you have them. after that it should get a lot easier, you wont be tempted to go and check on the current events because youre not there.

find other vices to replace terras, whether thats a healthier cs space or by throwing yourself wholeheartedly into your other ocs, do whatever helps you most. the best solution for addiction is a healthy substitute. and make sure you go outside a lot, this internet shit really does suck you in

thanks for being an active reader/venter, i appreciate everyone who takes the time to look through my musings about this stuff. and hopefully soon terras will die so i can leave this blog and everything terra related too haha

[delta-lethonomia]

Minor livejournal-style vent/depression rant under the cut, thoughts about trauma's effect on writing:

(No need for sympathy, just yelling into the void lol. Plenty of trigger warnings...)

Listening to: Sweet Dreams by Eurythmics

Man, I know it's just hormones + low-key depression, but my brain's in a real simmering "everything you work on sucks, you'll never have a career nor the respect of your peers, you'll probably get cancer too because why not, we all die, and you should start a fight with [husband] so he can go marry someone who actually financially contributes to the household instead of bringing a bucketload of family and personal trauma to the table" type vibe. Which-

-is such a braindead take??? What 🤌 The 🤌 Fuck 🤌 brain 🤌

I know it's the ~trauma response~ talking here with the desire to set my life on fire because clearly I've been too relaxed lately, but I'm not twenty anymore so stop👏 it 👏 ugh. I know better, but it's an endless fight until the last of that programming gets eradicated.

Anyway, the last time one of my parents died, I drank a bunch and then the pandemic hit 2 months later so that was nice, relaxing, and validating tbh. Unfortunately I also gained a bunch of weight I never managed to shake off afterwards so I'd rather not go that route again. Also someone I knew drank themselves to death at age 30? So uh. Unpleasant. 0/10, would not recommend. Don't do that.

Sigh. The solution, of course, is to take a fucking shower and then go for a walk & get some sunlight, but I really want to get this chapter finished... the chapter, of course, where my notes explicitly state "happy fun times! The calm before the storm! Show a version of what could be, if Tav and Astarion manage to stay together and not eat one another alive."

Hmm. Real shocker that I'm struggling with it. The draft is 4.5k and gets darker every time I poke at it. 🙄 Maybe that's the solution, throw narrative convention out the window and just write where my heart takes me, and if it leads to one of the worse endings then so be it. It's fun, too, because we haven't even hit the particular brand of bullshit that I have a lot of experience with that I know is gonna upset me lol (not cancer or death related, surprisingly enough. I contain ✨multitudes✨).

One of my favorite artists is going through hell with her own cancer, and the things she draws are incredibly fucked up and dark. I feel like there's definitely a link between personal trauma and turning that into art, so I guess it's not surprising per se that my mom's recent death is affecting the way I write FATWR, but it's just kind of sad that something I've invested so much time and effort into feels like it's become less a work of my conscious mind and more a reflection of the needs of my subconscious. That's the myth of the conscious mind for you, I guess.

Then again, art is meant to evoke emotion and help process it, so maybe going off the rails is the way forward regardless. What's the point of creating something that doesn't make me happy? So what if it ends up a few shades darker--it's already so fucking dark in the metanarrative of what's actually going on and where it's leading. Maybe some levity will organically arise elsewhere down the line...?

[donnerpartyofone]

I once found myself foolishly complaining to my old therapist about some deeply unsatisfying exchange I had on tumblr with somebody who had willfully misconstrued what I said and was going after me about what they decided I meant, just because that was what they would rather talk about. You know, the usual. My therapist threw me off my game by just asking my why I post here to begin with, instead of indulging my desire to passionately bitch and moan. She seemed very skeptical about whatever I said, I had the idea that she wanted me to admit that I was either looking for a fight, or attention, or validation from a bad source where I am destined to encounter a lot of friction. (Man o man, if only she knew about the absolutely bonkers and irrational "you are valid" culture we have here...) And I mean, she's right, you ARE destined to encounter a lot of friction on tumblr if you do anything remotely personal with it, but somehow that annoyance can be outweighed by

a) the internal satisfaction of putting your thoughts in order

b) the catharsis of venting, even into the void

c) the small but unignorable possibility that someone will deeply understand what you said, or have something relevant and provocative to add based on their own unique and valuable experience/expertise.

I think about turning off replies all the time now, quite a lot of the time there's someone being rude either on purpose or inadvertently, because they're too obtuse or thoughtless to consider the implications or real usefulness of what they are saying. Sometimes I think about turning off reblogs on everything too, and I'm trying to develop the habit of stopping before I post to ask myself, every single time, how I'm going to feel when some total cretin reblogs something that is obviously either not universally applicable (e.g. just personal in-the-moment venting) or actually not their business (discussion of personal tragedy that you'd think people would have the good sense to leave alone, like just let strangers who need to talk about something do so in peace?). All of these things have happened more and more lately, and I think what would be really great for me is if I developed a much tougher hide, if I developed a mental baleen that filters out all the shit I don't need to care about and lets in all the tasty, nutritious stuff that I'm actually here for, that I like so much that it makes all the chaff totally worth it.

My problem is that I don't have that natural thing that tells you what incoming stimulus is relevant and what you can completely ignore, I'm curious about EVERYTHING especially how other people think and behave. When I hear something insulting or idiotic directed at me I immediately start processing it like it's a mystery that it is my duty to unravel, instead of casually throwing it in the trash like I should. This morning I posted about how I was reminded of a personal tragedy by some stupid thing a business did to me, and I get this complete stranger unloading his own version of that tragedy, only to then condemn me morally for my interaction with the business. Like does he think I'm going to be so humbled by his "direct action" that it's going to change the world? What was the goal besides picking a fight before the sun is all the way up in the sky? Yesterday I posted links to a bunch of film scholarship I published along with some new blu ray releases, literally calling it my life's work, and somebody reblogged it and put in the tags that they don't like one of the movies and they don't know what the other two are. So...what was the point here? Are you planning on buying two expensive collector's editions of movies you don't know by a director you don't like? I mean thanks for promoting my work, I guess if the price of your sponsorship is that you say rude, pointless things that don't mean anything to anyone, then I'll take it? It might have a positive impact on my mental health if I turned off replies and reblogs universally, but then I wouldn't get to hear from any of the smart and nice guys I've met on here who have opened my eyes to all sorts of things. So yeah my Christmas wish or New Year's resolution or whatever is to give a shit much, much more selectively, for the rest of my life.

PS Regarding disagreements on the internet: There is an important qualitative difference between someone saying something you find disagreeable on their own blog, which you don't even have to be aware of if you don't want to, and someone going out of their away to like cross into your yard to start a fight about what's on your blog ~as if~ you had called them on the phone and said it directly to them personally. Most of what you see on the internet doesn't require your input at all, if you don't really have anything to add except your own emotional content. The difference: Learn it, know it, live it!