#maybe someone will

[sapphic-space-syren]

This is purely for my own satisfaction and I don't expect anyone to read it but

Below the cut is a letter I wrote in 2018 after 12 weeks of PTSD therapy. The trauma was caused by a romantic and sexual relationship I was in from ages 15-17 with someone a decade older. When I grew up, I was debilitated by shame and guilt, but my lovely therapist helped me realise that it wasn't my fault. This letter to my ex was incredibly cathartic and even though I wrote it 5 years ago, I think it still captures my feelings.

I never sent it.

Hello.

I know this is out of the blue and I'm sorry to dig up old ghosts. It's been over 2 years since I last heard from you and though I always intended on replying to your emails, I could never figure out how to articulate what I wanted to say and, when I thought I finally had it, my feelings would change drastically by the time I wrote it down. But if it's not too late, I think I've finally settled, and hopefully it will partially explain the delay.

When we were together, I thought I was experiencing the most extraoridnary love of my life. As a young teenager, it was all so much more exciting. It made the obvious problems easy to overlook and the breakup nearly impossible to bear.

But then the love faded and I was left with nothing but questioning guilt. It ate away at me for nearly two years, somehow growing more intense with the passing of time. I couldn't see your name without panicking and the idea of romantic or sexual interaction with anyone filled me with intense fear. I was too afraid to speak of this to a therapist; I couldn't bear the thought of them going to the police when I revealed the age difference, but finally it was just too much and I didn't care anymore whether authorites got involved.

When I told my therapist about the "past relationship" that was still bothering me, she immediately put me down for PTSD treatment. It seemed like a joke to me at first; I didn't feel badly enough to be traumatised. Nothing terrible had happened, I just had a few unresolved thoughts and feelings to deal with (and a rocky baseline mental state).

Those thoughts and feelings took more than four months to decipher. A whole semester where my grades plummeted and I had panic attacks (for the first time since I'd been hospitalised) because having to acknowledge and think about these uncomfortable truths I'd been carrying for years was just too much. I tried to drop out of uni and fly away from everything and never return. I realised that things which I had thought were maybe a bit questionable were actually much worse, and the things which had seemed fine at the time were deeply concerning. I'm afraid there are very few parts of the relationship I can look back on without feeling uncomfortable.

All those times I was consumed by love, I was overrun by the desperate need to prove myself good enough against a standard I couldn't hope to meet. I would have done absolutely anything if I thought it would make me more appealing to you, would disguise the fact that something was very wrong in our dynamic. The fear was paralysing, and each day only provided more evidence that I still wasn't enough, couldn't do what was expected of me in this partnership. I was failing. I didn't know what I was getting into, what it meant to be one half of an adult relationship. I didn't have the pre-requisite experience. As a high schooler, romantic entanglements meant affection and exploration; suddenly I found myself in a world of real-life stakes and I had neither the tools to manage them or the self-awareness to see them in the first place.

All this was subconscious, of course. At the time, I believed that it was normal, that all this frantic anxiety was just another symptom of unparalleled love. I tried to eliminate anxieties by getting rid of the apparent causes; I asked you not to tell me about your projects because they were more reminders that we were at different stages in life. Logically, it was ridiculous to expect that I, as a 16-year-old, could be working at the same professional level as someone with a decade on me. But acknowledging this would mean acknowledging how severe the gap between us was in maturity and experience and power. This acknowledgement of my inferiority scared me more than anything, so I tried to sweep the evidence under the rug. I made you my most important priority, above schoolwork and my friends, because I knew deep down that we were not equals and so in order to keep you I must work very, very hard to prove I deserved you despite my shortcomings. And keeping you was the most important thing because it was proof that I was exceptional somehow.

The result was I became completely isolated. I had no close friends, a difficult relationship with my parents, and lost my academic standing. My support system was gone, which almost certainly exacerbated the symptoms of emerging bipolar disorder. Thus, I became entirely dependant on you. I know this was very difficult for you, especially as my mental state grew more unstable, and I am truly sorry for the experience but I hope the reason is at least somewhat understandable. As time went on I became more and more alone and the necessity of keeping you, my sole support person, grew more urgent. I think I began to sense you drifting away toward the end and panicked because for nearly the last 2 years I had devoted my life entirely to you and without you I quite literally had nothing to show for myself, just a few distant former friends and a report card of failing grades; no chance of graduating high school. I think we can agree this is not how relationships of equals are supposed to work. As I've had more relationships with people my own age, the difference has only become more apparent.

I admit I can't really understand how this happened. I certainly looked up to you as an idol and mentor and had a crush borne of admiration, but I cannot imagine how you reciprocated. I am only 20 now but the idea of being romantically or sexually invovled with a 16-year-old seems impossible and disturbing and I am still so much younger than you were then. I know that at the time I tried to overlook the prominent gap, which I think is somewhat understandable behaviour for a teenager who thinks she has been singled out as a special case, but I find it less excusable in an adult. It was your responsibility. As time has passed, I've come to understand why age of consent laws exist and, though I laughed at them at the time, insisted that I was exceptionally mature for my age, I find myself wishing that they'd been able to protect me.

I realise this may sound accusatory. I'm not here for that; just to offer my last word, so to speak, like you did.

Thank you for your well wishes for my health. I actually recoverd very quickly and managed to graduate high school early (if you can believe it) thanks to some creative beaurocracy with the school district. Other than the PTSD, I haven't had an episode since 2015. Turns out my bipolar is mild; I don't think I would have deteriorated like I did if it weren't for the unlucky combination of being prescribed the wrong meds for a year due to misdiagnosis alongside other stresses. I'm hoping I can continue to be happy and successful with only minimal treatment.

Thank you for reading, if you've made it this far. I don't really expect a reply, but you can, if you want. For whatever reason. I'm willing to have a conversation but I understand if it's time to move on from all of it. I'm actually not sure you still use this email address. Regardless, I am glad to have finally responded even if it is nearly 3 years overdue.

bel

[doccywhomst]

[sing-you-fools]

me: this is a background character who's in one scene, has two lines, and is completely irrelevant to the rest of the story. i am going to stop obsessing over what to name him and use the random name generator on behindthename.com. i am going to accept the first thing it gives me and move the fuck on.

behindthename.com:

[shopcat]

the baby has one parent's little face marking thing and the other's coat because they're a little horse family the world is a beautiful place

[nooling]

LOOK I JUST REALLY ENJOY THEIR FRIENDSHIP OK?? You can't tell me they wouldn't hang after their respective personal quests (spawn ending ofc)/emotional breakdowns over their own mortality

EDIT: I forgot to watermark these so now more than ever PLEASE don't repost

[notbecauseofvictories]

I don't know how strictly accurate this is, but one of the things I find shocking about watching historical dramas is how many people there are around all the time---according to Madame de... (1953) a well-off French household in the Belle Epoque maintains a workforce of at least 3, and the glittering opera has staff just to open doors. According to Shogun (2024) you can expect a deep bench just to mind your household, and again, people who exist to open doors.

Could people....not open doors in the past? Were doors tricky, before the standardization of hinges? Because otherwise, the wealthy used to pay a whole bunch of people to do it for them in multiple contexts, and I find myself baffled.

[birdy-babe]

Blitzøs entire life spent being unwanted. So he adapted, and learned how to be something needed, something to be used.

Which is why I think he firmly believes he is being used by Stolas. He simply cannot fathom a different reality, one in which he is wanted for once in his life.

[skybson]

Every named Crew Member of the USS Enterprise's historic five-year mission in Star Trek: The Original Series.

[bookshelfpassageway]

yknow i dont go here but sometimes i gotta go: seriously respect clowns. they have the worst pop culture representation in the world and also the best most thorough honor code. they're just here to be silly little guys who bring joy and are very conscientious about doing so responsibly. let them to their merriment in peace you dont hafta take potshots. i dont go here but like maybe i should, you all seem super chill

[ditzybat]

just imagining a teeny tiny tim being absolutely devastated about jason’s death, that he manages to get on to dark forums to contact a mercenary for a hit on the joker’s life.

and who happens to be that mercenary? deathstroke.

tim wires money from his (admittedly very high) allowance to slade, who finishes the job within the week — news outlets are going crazy as nobody knows who pulled off such a stunt — bruce is confused, and dick is both grateful, that someone took the bastard who killed his baby brothers life, and angry, because bruce wasn’t the one to do it.

slade however? wants to investigate, someone finally had the gall to order a hit on the joker and he’s a little curious to see who it is.

only come to find a little boy all alone in a big house who spends his nights following around a vigilante in a furry suit.

and, well, slade hasn’t been the best parent, and probably doesn’t know how to deal with an average kid, but who can blame him when he begins to train tim into becoming a mercenary just like him — after all, how else is he gonna defend himself on the streets of gotham when he gallivants around with an expensive camera, a sign basically saying ‘kidnap me!’ strapped to his chest?

so what if the kid becomes robin and uses those skills in the cape? that’s batman’s problem to figure out.

[shay-creates]

Apparently, my decision to be silly and make fanart of someone's writing (because I genuinely enjoy the story the person is writing and I was struck with inspiration upon reading a particular scene) has benevolent and wildly unforeseen consequences.

I apparently gained a bit of control of the canon because said writer really loved the art and decided what I drew/draw is canon.

2. Writer put said artwork into the document of his story right below the scene, so now it's IN the story where people who read the story will see it (with a link to me)

3. He sent the artwork to all his friends and people he knows because he was so excited

Wholesome interaction and I watched him do all that in real time, good stuff. However...there are two more consequences I was notified of today...nearly a full week after I gave the artwork.

Seeing the artwork caused his friends to become interested in reading and hearing about his story, which means more people are reading what he's writing and giving him critique on the story (which he actively asks for).

Apparently, upon seeing the art, his writer friends got a sudden second wind to pick back up writing they'd abandoned for a few months. Because, I quote, "seeing that someone enjoyed {his} writing enough to take the time to make art of it gave them the motivation that maybe THEY can write something that will inspire someone to also create something." I have accidentally caused a writing frenzy among his writer friends and my silly idea to make art for someone has had a butterfly effect for people who I don't even know.

Uhh...I'm pretty sure there's a moral here but I am tired and have a great deal of emotions about this.

[beemovieerotica]

Hey... so there now appear to be AI-generated science articles on .org websites that are giving biologically incorrect "facts" on basic, for-children topics

The title is "Are There Freshwater Octopus Species?" which should be an incredibly straightforward thing to answer: No.

The article starts out decent:

"Despite their many fascinating features, there is no evidence to suggest that octopuses can survive in freshwater environments."

Cool. Okay. Next section.

"While most people associate octopuses with the ocean, there are some species that can survive in freshwater environments."

Wait. What?

"Freshwater octopuses belong to the genus Amphioctopus, which includes several species that are found in brackish water and estuaries. These cephalopods have adapted to life in freshwater environments and have been observed in rivers, streams, and even hydrothermal vents."

NO NO NO.

One species of freshwater octopus is Amphioctopus aegina...Another species, Amphioctopus marginatus...

THESE GUYS LIVE IN THE OCEAN. [Scrolls 2 more sections]

Freshwater octopuses are still a topic of debate among scientists. While some researchers claim that they do exist, others argue that there is not enough literature to support their existence.

asd;lkfjasdlf;kjasd;flksjdfa

[secondbeatsongs]

for anyone too young to know this: watching The Truman Show is a vastly different experience now, compared to how it was before youtube and social media influencers became normal

before it was like, "what a horrifying thing to do to a human being! to take away their autonomy and privacy, all for the sake of profits! to create fake scenarios for them to react to, just to retain viewership! to ruin their happiness just so some corporate entity could harvest money from their very humanity! how could anyone do something so evil?"

and now it's like, "ah, yeah. this is still deeply fucked up, but it's pretty much what every influencer has been doing to their kids for a decade now. probably bad that we've normalized this experience"

[samble-moved]

post itself

false flags

trans/adjacent tags

accessibility features

tumblr live post (thanks for the link, @problemnyatic)

flashing / strobing / lights

unblockable flashing ad

buying ad free

staff @/macmanx guilt trip

list of staff + more issues

[stars-obsession-pit]

The Justice League was too late. The cult had successfully completed their summoning ritual, and a figure began to emerge from the crackling green rift in the air

A teenage boy in a black jumpsuit, holding a clipboard and a pen.

The figure barely seemed to pay attention and just launched into a rehearsed speech, tone bored. “Thank you for summoning the Ghost King. Due the influx of summonings, he is unavailable at the moment. I’m Phantom, and I’ll be serving as your intercessor for the time being. I am authorized to act on His Majesty’s behalf, but any larger scale actions may have a short wait time before they can go through—just a few decades at most.” His voice then picked up, tone casual. “So… whatcha looking for?”

Then he did a double take, the chaotic scene he’s appeared in finally seeming to register in his mind.

“…Err, which ones of y’all specifically performed the summoning? I need it for the file.”

[pommegrantaire]

Au lit, le baiser by Henri de Toulous Lautrec but make it Aziracrow