#nobody gives a fuck about how women got triggered about the cheating and the way he talks to his wife after screwing up his marriage

[ramayantika]

So Barbie was man hating but Animal should be taken as a movie

[itsadamcole]

you should be sad

fem!reader x adam cole

Reader and Adam go out for karaoke night, and she decides to sing a song about her relationship with Adam and his actions ...

word count: 2.2k+

warnings: mentions of cheating and an abusive relationship, angst

— this is based on the halsey song “you should be sad”. it’s one of my favorite songs right now honestly —

masterlist

~ potentially triggering content below - read at your own risk ~

***

You put on your sexiest dress. A tight, dark red satin number that hugs every curve of your small figure. The low cut neck reveals a decent amount of your cleavage and the dress pushes up the dress for you, so you’re not wearing a bra. The thin straps on your shoulders are sliver and they are sparkly. You wear a pair of black lace panties under the dress. Your Y/H/C hair is up in a curly ponytail.

Your boyfriend wears a black button up with dark blue jeans and dress shoes. His long brown hair is tied back in a bun.

You and Adam were invited to go out for karaoke with a few of the NXT wrestlers. Resident NXT power couple Johnny Gargano and Candice LeRae were the ones who invited you and Adam.

Things weren’t what everyone believed they were when it comes to you and Adam Cole.

When out in public, everyone thinks you and Adam are the cutest couple. You laugh and smile when out with him. He holds your hand and sneaks kisses to your lips, cheek, and neck.

Behind the scenes, things aren’t what they seem. Adam has cheated on you with several other women. When he cheats, he blames it on you. He plays the victim. He tells you that if you satisfied him more than he wouldn’t cheat. Adam thinks you only know about three of the times he’s cheated but you know he’s cheated at least half a dozen times.

He’s never hit you though. He’s never been physically abusive toward you. Only emotionally and mentally.

You haven’t had it in your heart to leave him. You love Adam with your entire heart. You know he loves you too, even if sometimes he says he doesn’t.

Tonight, you are planning something though. You’re going to make it known how you’ve been feeling. To Adam, to your friends. You have a song in mind you’re going to be singing when Candice begs you to sing a song.

You and Adam arrive at the karaoke club. You wander around the club, looking for someone that you or Adam know. You spot Johnny, Candice, Mia Yim, and Keith Lee in a corner. You believe that the rest of the Undisputed Era are coming with their wives and girlfriends.

Good. Maybe they’ll start to keep their friend in check.

Candice says, “Y/N. You have to sing a song tonight. Your voice is beautiful and I could listen to it for hours. I have listened to it for hours.”

You laugh. While your boyfriend is NXT’s longest reigning champion, you’re a 4-time Grammy award winning artist. You’ve been friends with Johnny and Candice for years. They’re the reason you even met Adam.

***

“Y/N!” Candice says. “You came!”

You laugh and hug your best friend as you say, “I couldn’t miss my best friend’s birthday party! Happy 25th birthday, Candice.”

Your best friend giggles and says, “Thank you. Oh, by the way, remember that guy I was telling you about? He’s here, and he’s recently broken up with his girlfriend.”

You roll your eyes and say, “You’re not still on this. Plus, my career is finally taking off.”

“I know, I know,” Candice says, hooking your arm with hers. “At least meet him, Y/N. Please.”

You stare at Candice and say, “Ugh, fine. Only because it’s your birthday.”

Candice drags you over to the bar. She taps the shoulder of a man that’s standing at the bar. She clears her throat and says, “Cole. There’s someone I’d like you to meet.”

The man that Candice referred to as Cole turns around. You immediately meet his pretty blue irises. He’s almost clean shaven. His burgundy shirt match his maroon pants. The jacket he wears matches his pants.

Candice says, “Y/N, this is Adam Cole. Adam, this is Y/N L/N. The girl I was telling you about.”

“The future Grammy award winner?” Adam asks. “That Y/N L/N?”

You feel your cheeks heat up as the attractive man in front of you speaks.

Candice nods and says, “She’s agreed to perform tonight too.”

Your head snaps in Candice’s direction. You never agreed to that. You’re about to say something when Adam Cole says, “Well, I look forward to it. I think Kyle just got here so I have to go but Y/N. Come find me when you’re done so I can buy you a drink.” He sends you a wink and you watch as he walks away.

You find yourself staring at Adam as he walks off.

Candice elbows your side and says, “I can see the wheels turning. You’re actually thinking about it.”

“We’ll see what happens after my impromptu performance,” you say. “Thanks for that, by the way. No heads up?”

Candice says, “There’s a microphone right there. It’s a karaoke machine. Sing some covers or some of your original songs. You’ll be fine, Y/N. Break a leg.”

She walks off and you call, “I might break yours just for fun.”

Candice laughs and you sigh, getting set up for your little performance.

You sing a good four or five songs, ending on “Happy Birthday” for Candice.

The attractive man from earlier finds you after you’re done singing.

Adam says, “I can see why Candice called you a future Grammy award winner. Your voice is amazing.”

“Thank you,” you say, your face turning red as you look up at Adam Cole. You meet his pretty blue eyes and find yourself getting lost in them. Adam smiles.

He points toward the bar and asks, “How about that drink I promised you before the performance.”

You walk over to the bar with Adam.

That is how you met. That is how you got into this situation. You didn’t know then what would happen, and now you have a little bit of regret that you even agreed to meet Adam.

***

The rest of the Undisputed Era shows up and that’s when Candice says, “Okay, Y/N. Please come sing a song with me. Please.”

You smile and say, “Alright. Let’s go.”

Candice gets excited when you agree to go sing a song. You and Candice walk over to the booth to pick a song to sing together. Candice picks the collaboration between Ariana Grande and Lady Gaga. Rain On Me.

Someone hands you both microphones as Candice says, “I want Gaga’s parts. There’s no way that I can hit Ariana’s notes.”

You laugh and say, Alright. I don’t know if I’ll be able to either but I’ll give it a try.”

Candice walks up onto the stage and you follow her.

You and your best friend have the best time. You hit every single note. Once the song is over, Candice hugs you and everyone cheers. You say, “I’m gonna sing one more song. You can head back to the group.”

Candice nods and you walk over to the booth. You ask, “Can you put on ‘You Should Be Sad’ by Halsey?” The man behind the booth nods and gets the song set up.

Nervously, you walk up onto the stage. You glance at Adam and he looks like a proud boyfriend. Of course he looks like that. You wouldn’t expect anything less.

The song begins and you take a deep breath before you begin to sing.

I wanna start this out and say I gotta get it off my chest Got no anger, got no malice Just a little bit of regret

You make sure to stare down Adam as you sing. Candice looks at you then looks at Adam.

Know nobody else will tell you So there's some things I gotta say Gonna jot it down and then get it out And then I'll be on my way

Johnny notices how intently you’re staring at Adam and he says something to the leader of the Undisputed Era.

No, you're not half the man you think that you are And you can't fill the hole inside of you with money, drugs and cars I'm so glad I never ever had a baby with you 'Cause you can't love nothin' unless there's somethin' in it for you

As you sing, you begin to leave the stage, walking down toward Adam. A spotlight lands on you as you walk off the stage.

You approach Adam, who has a look on his face. You can’t tell if his face is full of anger or full of sadness as you sing. The look of proudness that was on his face earlier is gone now.

Oh, I feel so sorry I feel so sad I tried to help you It just made you mad And I had no warning About who you are

The group around you looks at you as they realize what’s going on. Candice is looking at you with concern and when she looks at Adam, anger rises inside of her.

I'm just glad I made it out without breaking down And then ran so fucking far That you would never ever touch me again Won't see your alligator tears 'Cause, no, I've had enough of them

As you sing the song, you feel confidence come over you. You realize that tears have started running down your face as you finish up the last few notes. Before you finish the song, you head back up to the stage to finish the last few lyrics.

Once the song ends, the crowd in the building cheers for you before you hand in the microphone before you walk over to the group. Candice looks up at you and asks, “Y/N, what’s going on?”

You are looking at Adam as you respond to Candice saying, “Ask Adam. Or better yet, ask the several girls he’s fucked behind my back.”

Candice looks at Adam and Johnny says, “Bro, what the hell is wrong with you?”

“I didn’t know that you knew about all of them,” Adam says. “I was going to tell you.”

You stare at your boyfriend and you say, “That is such bullshit and you know it. Once is maybe a mistake. Twice isn’t. Four times isn’t and six times sure as hell isn’t.”

Candice says, “Six times? Adam, you asshole.”

Tears threaten to spill over your eyelids and you say, “I’m done, Adam. I’m so done.”

You gather your things and start to leave. Adam calls after you as you leave. You walk out the door and wipe away your tears.

“Y/N,” Adam says, panic laced in his voice. “Y/N, please. Please don’t leave.”

You groan a bit and you say, “It’s not just the cheating. You play the victim and you blame me for your cheating. You tell me you don’t love me. I can’t deal with this anymore. You’ve had your chance and you threw it out the window as soon as you decided to cheat on me with not one, not two, but six other women.” The tears have begun to fall as you continue to talk. “I don’t know how you can live with the guilt that you’ve broken my heart so many times.”

Adam can’t even look at you when you’re done talking. You’re breathing heavily, trying to keep your sobs back as you stare at the man in front of you.

Both of you are quiet. Adam avoids your gaze and you stare holes into him.

After a few moments of silence, you say, “You can’t even look at me.” You wipe the silent tears away as your voice breaks. “You can’t even say something to me to try and make me stay.”

Adam looks up at you and he says, “What do you want me to say, Y/N? The odds are that you won’t stay no matter what.”

“I’ve stayed through every time I found out you’ve cheated,” you say, your sobs making their way out. “I’ve stayed every time you’ve blamed me for your cheating. I’ve stayed through every time you’ve told you didn’t love me. I can forgive you, Adam. I have forgiven you before, but you think that I won’t stay.”

You watch as Adam’s face goes from panic to sadness. He’s finally realized how his behavior has affected you. It makes him mad that he made you feel like this.

Adam says, “Y/N, I’m so sorry. Please don’t go. Believe it or not, I need you in my life.”

You wipe your tears away and say, “I can’t deal with this anymore, Adam. I love you, but loving you hurts me.”

He says, “I can change my ways. I can be honest with you. You can even come out with me if you want to just to make sure that I won’t do anything.”

“I’m not becoming your babysitter, Adam,” you say. “I can’t watch over you to make sure you won’t cheat on me again. I’m your girlfriend, not your babysitter. If you want a babysitter then go back to Britt.”

Adam says, “I’m sorry, Y/N. I’m so sorry. Please.”

You give a shaky sigh and you say, “I’m giving you one more chance to show me you’ve changed, Adam. You get one chance. You hurt me one more time then I’m gone because I can’t keep dealing with this.”

He looks at you and says, “I won’t throw that chance away. Thank you for forgiving me and giving me one more chance.”

“Don’t blow it,” is all you say.

[rachetmath]

What would it be like if rwbyjnor met the dutch, revy and rock

I don't understand the specifics of this request so I'll do this in the best way I can. This going to be long so be ready.

Rwby x Black lagoon

Black Lagoon crosses to Remnant:

Revy and Dutch along with team RWBY, Ren and Nora are fight a bunch of Beowolves while Jaune and Rock are fighting side by side with mostly Jaune doing most of the work while Rock provides a view tips and assisting mostly with what he can find.

Revy: So, let me get this straight you fight shit heads freaks of nature like these like every single day?

Ruby: Yep.

Dutch: And all of you have a very specific weapon that you customize yourselves to be it a blade and firearm?

Ren: Precisely.

Benny: And you have unnatural and natural resources like dust and with highly advanced technology?

Weiss: Yes.

Dutch: And you can use all that as well as this thing called aura along with a semblance?

Nora: Yeah, semblances are like a superpower.

Revy: How super?

Yang: Universal.

Revy: Well-

Revy looks to see Ruby turn her weapon from a sniper rifle to a scythe.

Revy: Dutch, can we stay here?

Dutch: HELL NO!!! Look, I hate to say this, but I much prefer seeing crazy psychos, and bullets fly than this horror fest. Plus, I may not be father but ya'll parents let you do this every day, they are very stupid and irresponsible.

Yang: Hey we're trained for this. Well except one.

Revy: Yeah that guy with Rock over there. He is doing fine but I can tell he's not all your levels. How did even survive let only get into your school?

Ruby: That we don't know or bother asking as long he works.

Revy: Well I can say that it's stupid but I still I wonder how he got in.

*Jaune and Rock side*

Rock: So, let’s get this straight. Your father never bothered to train you and no combat school was willing to accept you, so your best method was to cheat?

Jaune: Yeah, I know, I'm a complete fool.

Rock: I mean if you were willing to work hard to get there despite the risk, I say, you sir have my respect.

Jaune: But I am an idiot, I mean, I lost the only girl you who believed in me.

Rock: Jaune, let me give you a piece of advice. Get over yourself! If you still have even just one friend in this crazy messed up world then you're okay. Trust me, I know a little on how you feel. I mean look me compared to the others, do I look like I'm a mercenary?

Jaune: Why do hang out with them anyways?

Rock: Like you with your friends, mines, I guess appreciate my abilities. Look let's talk about this another time and try to survive this freak show.

Jaune: Deal.

RWBY and JNRO crosses to Black Lagoons:

Team RWBY and JNPR are fighting a mafia group along with Revy and Dutch. Ruby armed with a handgun, an old scythe and sniper with a bayonet, Weiss with a rapier and little knifes, Blake with a handgun and a katana, Yang with a shotgun and iron brazed knuckles, Jaune with an military armed shield, sword and rifle(Dutch taught him how to use it. Surprised it took him a week.) Nora with a grenade launcher, Ren dual wielding pistols and knives and Oscar with a pipe.

Revy: Holy crap, you brats are good even without your powers or usual weapons.

Ruby: We adapt.

Nora: Seriously, you guys do stuff like this every day?

Dutch: For the right price, yes. But yeah, you kids on a natural.

Yang: By the way, thanks for teaching Jaune how to use a gun.

Dutch: Thank Rock for making him listen, he said he wouldn't last long if he didn't. But in all seriously the guy learns quick, I mean, it took him a week to learn how you use that rifle.

Ren: A week! We need to start teaching him and make sure he brings one more often.

Nora: Might makes things easier from here on.

Jaune: Can all of stop talking and focus! We'll talk when we're done. Oscar, hurry up.

Oscar: Oh, I'm sorry but fighting with a pipe is hard!

Jaune: Why didn't you bring a sword!

Oscar: I will not kill!

After a crazy battle, the group along with Rock and Benny celebrated their victory at the bar. While the girls, as well as Ren and Oscar was living it up with Revy, Benny and Dutch, at the front bar Jaune and Rock were talking after Rock told him a stories about how his employers sold him out, the hell he endured in his stay Roanaper, Yukio, and his old client Garcia.

{Rock's side}

Jaune: Damn.

Rock: Yeah.

Jaune: Well, you did what you had to.

Rock: But I didn't have to. I should've walk away and not attached. I'm supposed to be the good guy, Jaune. But this city, I feel like it's eating me alive. All these mafia bosses, war criminals and shit... it's all just getting to me. You know.

Jaune: Yeah, I understand, but what are going to do about it? you made the choice to stay and you got live with it. I mean, hearing all the crap you've done, I somewhat envy you.

Rock: What do you mean?

Jaune: When Chang said pull out, you went in. Every time something bad happens you try to be the good guy and make things better. True it fails at times and from the look of this city, you'll have no choice but to throw righteousness away to survive.  But in my opinion, you still at least stand as the hero of the story.

Rock: *laugh* How so!? Come on tell me, how can I, a piece of under burying shit can possible still be a hero to you. The worthless knight, who can barely fight and couldn't save his partner!?

Jaune: Exactly. Most people survive based on luck.  You on the other hand survived not just on what you know but what learn in return. The world's a crazy place, and most of time you don't know where you'll end up. However, you still have control of what you do next. Your still able to keep people alive. You still do your job. You still try to be nice and maintain some level of morality even if it may never be enough or get you killed. So, trust me when I say this, you have done all what you could. Hell, I barely can do anything.

Rock: Shut up. When it comes down to it your friends are as crazy and trigger happy as Revy. They need somebody like you who can keep them alive. Just keep trying to do right by them and for yourself. Trust me, you can talk down to yourself all you want. But it doesn't change the fact that your alive, you made mistakes and you change. Promise you won't go down how I did, because believe me once you go too far in the darkness you may never come back from it. Or at least not be the same person you were before.  

Jaune: Yeah. Plus, that Revy woman, I think you can trust her to help you back up or shoot you down when you have gone too far.

Rock: Really? How come?

Jaune: She talks about you all the time when she's drunk. She saves you even when you deserve to die for being stupid. And finally, she hasn't killed you yet despite the many times you've pissed her off.

Rock: Speaking of women, which one of those lovely ladies is your girlfriend?

Jaune: Funny I was about ask you the same between Revy and the blonde, named, Eda.

Rock: *laughing* To the C.M.F.?

Jaune:  To the C.M.F *Shared a toast with Rock and started drinking*

{Revy Side}

Ruby: So, Revy?

Revy: What is it little red?

Ruby: Are you and Rock dating?

Revy: *cracks glass cup while blushing* W-w-WHAT!? NO!! Of course not. Why the hell would you ask that?

Nora: You look at him a lot.

Blake: You talk to him the most.

Yang: An unlike most, you call him your partner.

Revy: Well yeah cause he's useful. That’s all. Nothing special.

Weiss: Really, cause when you got drunk last time, we asked you about him, you got an attitude and started talking crazy.

Revy: Oh.

Yang: So how-

Revy: We started off at the wrong foot and we're just making up as we go.

Yang: Well that's great and-

Revy: Can't say the same thing for you guys and your friend Jaune, though.

Nora: Pardon?

Revy: I'm just saying, don't think you know everything about your friend, hell I don't think he cares about any of you.

Blake: *angry glare* What makes you say that?

Revy: Well let’s be clear here. Jaune was loser with dreams, he was willing to make those dreams a reality, no matter the price he didn't know he'll have to pay. And guess what, the debt was do and it caused Pyrrha her life.

Yang: Maybe so but-

Revy: And before you all start giving him praise for what he accomplished, let me ask you something. How did he feel afterwards? I mean, losing the only person to ever provide with some sort of love and respect, a family that never believed in once in his life, I say the kid must been a loser for a long time. And if him and his Sapphron were the only two to ever bother to leave the nest, then that proves that the rest of his siblings are just good for nothing nobodies who scared of the world, or just found more meaning in their lives without having to leave the comfort of their home. Face it, like Rock, your friend got something to prove and he's willing to do whatever it takes to prove himself to everyone. Even if it causes him his life and his humanity.

Ruby: No. No, we won't-

Revy: And what are you people going to do? Hold his hand? Give him those morally great speeches of yours? Pathetic. Just like your friend Pyrrha who died a meaningless death for worthless, foolish old man, who could barely do the job he's was given by god himself.

RWBYN: *angry at Revy comment but grows to accept it*

Ren was about to start threatening however Dutch stops him by reestablishing that one shot can turn the bar into a war zone and showing Ren that Revy always has her trigger finger ready. So, Ren does nothing.

Revy: Face it, you guys aren't capable of saving him. But what do I know, I'm no hero nor do I want to be? The only guy I seem to care about is changing and I don't know how he's going to turn out. To think that I might have to shoot him down someday. But fuck it, that’s just of missed up every world is.

Dutch: Wow Revy you changed.

Revy: What?

Benny: You act less bitchy than you were before and now you’re a little more open with others. Rock must have touched your heart.

Revy: Shut up, Benny. *looking red all over her face*

Everyone laughs at her embarrassment.

Revy: Oh, shut the fuck up you cunts! Hm. Anyways which one you are dating that knight in shining armor anyways since you're all worried about him?

Nora: I already got a boyfriend.

Revy: You mean twinkle toes right there. Mr. Emmo.

Nora: You must want to fight.

Revy: Anyone?

RWBY: Nope.

Revy: *makes a call*

Eda: Hey bitch, what do want?

Revy: Hey Eda do you like blondes? Because I got an average looking-

Eda barges in with her short green skirt and pink top shirt on. She looks at Revy, knowing what she wants, Revy points to Jaune with Rock and Eda makes her. She walks with hips swaying from side to side and sit between Rock and Jaune.

Rock: *surprised* Eda, what are doing here? When you did you get here?

Eda: Oh, Rock honey, I’m just taking advantage of my opportunities. *Sees Jaune staring in amazement. She smiles* Say, I heard rumors about you and your blonde friend right here and was wondering if you two would have some-

Revy and Weiss both break their glasses and make their way over.

Revy and Weiss: STAY THE HELL AWAY FROM HIM YOU CUNT!!!

Revy surprised how Weiss and she were in complete sink and while she smug, Weiss was embarrassed.

Revy: Oh, so you like him like that.

Weiss: *grabs Jaune by the arm and pulls him away* EVERYONE! WE ARE LEAVING!

Jaune: But Weiss I finally found someone I can talk!

Weiss: YOU’LL PLENTY OF PEOPLE TO TALK TO ONCE WE GET HOME!!

Jaune: But Weiss- damn it, later Rock. See you someday.

Rock: God speed brother and remember everything I told you.

Jaune: You as well and good luck.

A bright light was opened and just like that the kids disappeared. Back to their universe. Revy and Rock were smiling but Rock, remembering what Jaune said about trust, ask Revy

Rock: Revy?

Revy: What up, partner?

Rock: Let’s say, I things took too far and made an enemy of someone who would want me killed. Will you be there to kill me instead? Even if you were paid to do so, will be there to stop me?

Revy: *smiles but then covers Rocks eyes so he never sees it* Of course. I got you into this, so you’re my responsibility. Partner.

Rock: *smiles* Thanks.

[puffmamaa]

Elbow Deep: Part 2

Hey, everybody! So here is Part 2. Finally! After racking my brain for daaayss, I was able to find some inspiration to write this. It will be a series btw. My first, so be gracious. I’m sensitive about my shit.

CATCH UP: Part 1.

Pairing: Erik ‘Killmonger’ Stevens x Black, Dark-Skin, Plus Size OC. (Always💛)

Summary: It all started with a plate of hot wings, y’all.

Word Count: 4.1k

Warnings: Cussing. Use of the N-word. Mention of the death of a parent. Mention of emotional abuse, fatphobia, & cheating in a romantic relationship. And a small mention of Steve Harvey, just in case the thought of his mustache triggers anybody. 🙃

A/N: I had to make some changes. One big one is that Erik isn’t the director of the Wakandan Outreach Center like what was mentioned in Part 1. He actually doesn’t work with it at all. But it’ll all be explained as we go along. Hopefully, it’ll makes sense. If not, I’ma need y’all to just roll with it anyways lol.

Bold, Italic font is inner dialogue.

——

Janessa moved through the gala hall towards her sit, her thick hips swaying between the tables.

“Girl, where the hell did you go? Leaving me here all by myself,” Chantelle, Janessa’s best friend, scowled lowly. She was a tall, fluffy-thick with sepia brown skin that was complimented well by her long, navy gown. Her fluffy burgundy twist was pinned in a cute updo.

“You’re the one who nearly begged to be my plus one. I figured you wouldn’t mind,” Janessa whispered back, tossing her black, waist length locs over her shoulder as she sat down. “Plus, I was hungry and had to find something actually edible.”

“Heffa, you ate without me? What kind of friend…” Chantelle gave her a betrayed look.

“You looked fine picking at that bird food early. Kiki-ing real hard with whoever that guy was.”

“That’s because he looked like he had a little money. But he was a whole cornball. Going on about Steve Harvey being his role model or something. I couldn’t hear shit else after that.”

Janessa scoffed. “You better leave them bootstrappin’ negros alone.”

“I know. I usually wouldn’t even entertain…” Chantelle trailed off. “Who is that guy staring at you?” 

“What?” Janessa replied, looking in the same direction as Chantelle. “Oh. I meet him earlier in the kitchen. We had some wings together.”

“You sure all he wanted was the wings? Cause he’s looking at you like you’re a bowl of gravy. And he’s the biscuit.”

“Girl,” Janessa huffed.

“Uh, uh. He FINE fine.” She squinted her dark brown eyes. “Did you at least give him your number?”

“Hell no. I didn’t come here for all tha—OW!” She yelped.

Chantelle had given her one of those big mama church pinches.

“What the fuck was that for?”

“Letting his delectable ass get away. I should do worse but we in public so I’ll let you live,” she half joked.

Janessa rubbed the sore spot on her thigh and looked over towards Erik. He was staring. And he was fine. It’s not like she didn’t notice before. She definitely did. His smooth brown skin and dark amber eyes. The way his meticulously sculpted facial hair framed his deep dimples. And those lips. She could feel herself starting to overheat. Uh, uh. No Ma’am. To her, a man like that couldn’t be nothing but trouble.

“Girl, I’m good,” Janessa said.

“Nah. You trippin’, is what you is,” Chantelle huffed, turning her attention back to the stage.

—

“And now for a particularly special part the evening. My favorite, I might I add...”

Erik tuned out the sound of T’Challa’s voice. All he could focus on was the beautiful woman in white and the way her dark, umber colored skin glistened against her bright dress. Janessa. The woman he’d just spent over half an hour eating hot wings with. The woman he’d felt oddly comfortable with in such a short period of time. The same woman he let leave his presence without asking her out or at very least, getting her number.

To be honest, Erik didn’t usually have to ask. Women would sell their panties for a chance to get at him. He even had to keep a few beckies at arm’s distance throughout the night. But not her. She actually walked her fine, plump ass out of the kitchen without so much as a second glance back. It hit him in his ego, he’d had to admit. But it also made him more interested in her.

Erik moved from his spot on the wall, eying a way to get over to her.

“Hey—Wait a minute, aren’t you from Wakanda? A short, thin-lipped white man asked.

“No.” Erik said blankly, attempting to move past him.

“Yes! I remember seeing you with the King before. Wa...W’kabi, isn’t it?

“Hell nah,” Erik flared his nostrils. “Ain’t nobody ever tell you it’s rude to talk during presentations?”

“Oh! Well, I didn’t me—“

“Yeah, uh huh,” Erik said inching away. He scanned the room. I just had my eyes on her...

“...so let’s give a round of applause to our honoree, The 2019 Most Influential Community Leader of the Year, Janessa James!”

Erik snapped his neck around so fast he swore he heard it crack. He looked up to see Janessa on stage exchanging a handshake and hug with T’Challa.

—

“I’m so proud of my baby!” Chantelle squeezed her arms around Janessa’s neck. “The best Director East Oakland Community Outreach Center has ever seen and now being honored by the King? My bestie is a bad boosh!”

“Thanks, girl!” Janessa hugged her back just as tight. “But you know we all put in hella work for the community. What would I do without my Assistant Director, holding me down?”

“Well, shit let me hold the award then.” She said taking the plaque from her bestie.

“Congratulations, Janessa!” Shuri hugged her from behind. “I’m so glad you and the center are getting the exposure you deserve!”

“I should be thanking you too. All you’ve done with helping us start the STEM program,” Janessa beamed at the teenage genius.

Shuri shot her a big smile. She had spent the last year partnering with the East Oakland Community Outreach Center. Her work introduced the youth in the community to STEM education they wouldn’t regularly have access to in their underfunded school system. She loved the center and had built meaningful relationships with so many of the people there.

“You are too kind. You know, I...” Shuri turned around slowly, feeling a large yet familiar presence behind her.

“Congratulations. I didn’t know you were being awarded tonight,” Erik said to Janessa, slowly moving his cousin out of the way.

“How do you two know each other?” Shuri questioned.

“We met earlier,” Erik replied, not taking his eyes off Janessa.

“There he goes with that staring again,” Chantelle teased as she moved to greet him. “I’m Chantelle. Janessa’s best friend.” She extended a hand to him.

He smiled and took it. “Erik.”

“MMhmmp! Look at those dimples. Deep enough to hide from the police in,” She chirped.

Janessa chuckled. Her friend was so damn extra.

Erik turned his attention back to Janessa. He look her over slowly and licked his juicy lips. “I was thinking, since we had such a good time earlier, how about I treat you to a real meal?” He ran his knuckle down the length of her arm.

Janessa raised an eyebrow at him, flicking his finger off of her. “Uh, no. I’m good,” she scoffed.

Erik and Chantelle both cocked their necks back.

“You good?”

“Yeah.”

“I mean, are you busy or something? Cause I can do lunch too.”

“No. Well, I am a busy woman. But that’s not why I’m not interested. I just...don’t want to.”

“You don’t want to? Why?” Erik was genuinely confused. He did not expect her to turn him down. “I thought we were vibin’ back there.”

“We had a nice little conversation. A cute time. But that doesn’t mean I owe you a date.” Janessa said in a harsh tone.

“And I—oop.” Shuri yelped.

Chantelle’s jaw damn near hit the floor. She knew her friend to pull no punches with men but she was laying it on extra thick with Erik.

“Come on, baby girl.” Erik ran a hand over his hair. “You serious right now?”

“As a heart attack, baby boy.”

Erik furrowed his brows.

“Well, we’ve got to get going. Bye Shuri. I’ll see you later,” Janessa gave Shuri a quick hug.

She gave Erik a cold once over and turned back at Shuri. “Enjoy the rest of your evening.”

She grabbed Chantelle, whose mouth was still wide open, and headed towards to exit. Erik stood there, still thrown off at the scene that just played out.

Shuri exploded with laughter. “Now, N’Jadaka. I thought you said you had ‘the juice’.”

She patted her baffled cousin on the back and walked away, still giggling.

—

“BITCH, what the hell?” Chantelle pressed hand to Janessa’s forehead. “Did you bump your head or some shit? That fine ass man just asked you out. Not only did you decline, but you left that poor baby with half his face on the floor,” She laid her head back against the seat, still in shock at her friends actions.

“He’s a grown ass man. He’ll be just fine. And like I said to you and him, I’m good,” Janessa bent down to remove her heels. “I know his type. Arrogant. Smooth. And rude as fuck. Talking about ‘Let me treat you to a meal.’ Because I’m a big girl, I must want to eat? Tuh! And did you see him touch me? Uh, uh. He’s probably used to having his way with women.”

“If I were you, I would have let him have his way with me,” Chantelle retorted.

“I’d rather not be number ‘umpeenth’ on his hit it and quit it list.”

“That‘s a damn shame,” Chantelle shook her head. “He look like he got good dick. The kind you need right about now. That ‘let him drop you off at your job in your car’ kind of dick.”

“Well, I guess we’ll never find out.”

“Speak for yourself. I’ma see if his ass is on BLK.” Chantelle pulled out her phone and stated swiping through her apps.

Janessa gave her a vicious side-eye.

“OKAY. I’m was just playing, damn.” Chantelle said as putting her phone away. She pulled out the parking lot and headed back towards their neighborhood.

—

Janessa pushed her large black rimmed glasses further up her face and streched her body in her plush office chair. She rubbed her hands down her high waisted olive colored pants and adjusted her long-sleeved, cream colored wrap top. She sighed as she pulled her long ponytail of locs over her shoulder. The center was preparing for its Annual Juneteenth Celebration. Which meant more work added to her already full schedule. But she couldn’t complain too much. It was her favorite event of the year. The whole block came out; youth, elders, and everyone in between. They’d have spades and uno games going. Basketball and baseball competitions. And a huge cookout, where the women would argue over who made the best potato salad while the men drank Coronas and grilled meat. But the best part was the ending ceremony. Everyone would meet in the basement of the center. One of the griots would tell stories of their ancestors and their survival through middle passage and slavery. The youth would give dance performances and skits, inspired by the favorite Black icons and moments in history. At the end, they would pray and sing songs to pay respect and homage to those that came before them. It was a beautiful day and never failed to bring Janessa to tears. Seeing her culture celebrated so proudly across generations really touched her heart.

A small knock at her door shook her out of her thoughts.

“Come in.”

“Hey, boss lady,” Chantelle smiled, walking into the office. She sat down in one of the chairs in front her friend’s crowded desk.

“Hey, Channy,” Janessa said, “What’s up?”

“Derek just checked today’s delivery. The order for the sports equipment was short.”

“Short? That’s not possible. I doubled checked the numbers myself,” Janessa furrowed her brows. “Did they mix up the order or something.”

“Nope. We both checked the invoice. I wasn’t a mistake on their end.”

“That can’t be right…” Janessa let out a deep sigh. She pressed a button on her office phone, buzzing her assistant. “Tandy, can you come here for a second?”

She was met with low giggles and whispers from the other end.

“Tandy?” She said a little louder.

“Oh! Hey, what‘s up?”

“I asked if can you come into my office.”

“Um yeah, hold on.”

Tandy entered Janessa office holding her cell in her hand. She was tall, slim and light-brown skin with a short brown TWA.

“You rang?” She said in a sing-songy voice.

Chantelle groaned.

“You ordered the sports equipment, right?”

“Yeah, I did. Why?”

“Well, only about half came. And based on the invoice, it’s because the wrong order was placed. Did you order thirty, like I asked?”

“Thirty? Girl, I thought you said thirteen. My bad.”

Janessa rubbed the bridge of her nose.

Chantelle gave Tandy a wide-eyed look.

“Tandy. I sent it in an email. And I told you in person. Twice.”

“Ohh, Pffhhtt! I don’t be checking that email like that,” Tandy let out a short laugh. “You want me to order more?”

“No, Tandy,” Janessa tried to remain calm and professional. “They wouldn’t be here in time anyways. I’ll take care of it.”

She shrugged. “Okaay. Well, do you need anything else from me?”

“No, that’s all.”

“Cool. I’ma go head and take my lunch then,” She exited the office, giggling at something on her phone as she closed the door.

Janessa threw her head back and let out a loud groan.

“I swear that girl is gonna be the death of me.”

“I don’t know how you deal with it. Between all the attitude and incompetence. Girl I can’t,” Chantelle shook her head in disbelief.

“Who you telling? If it’s not her constantly messing something up, she’s flirting with any breathing body that walk through the door,” Janessa rolled her eyes. “Last week I caught her getting fresh with the damn UPS man. And don’t get me started on the volunteer sign up. She ‘forgot’ to update the dates on the form and now we’re short-handed for this weekend.”

“Two words: New Assistant.”

Janessa sighed, “I know, I know. But I’m trying to give her a chance, you know? She’s young and needs experience. And you know it’s hard for us. What’s the point of me being in this position if not to put other Black women on?”

“I hear you. But for one, she’s not that much younger than us. And for two, she obviously doesn’t take her job seriously. I get your trying be patient and understanding, but you got to consider the big picture. It seems like she’s adding more stress to your load than anything.”

“Yeah, you’ve got a point,” Janessa rolled her lips, looking off into the distance.

“Listen,” Chantelle rubbed her hands over her knee-length black dress. “There’s something else I needed to talk to you about.”

“Okay. What is it?”

“That whole scene the other night, at the gala.”

“Girl, I know you’re not still on that.”

“Yeah, well you were kind of doing the most, friend. What was up with that?”

“I told you. I don’t trust guys like him.”

“But you don’t know him,” Chantelle said. “He could be a decent guy. I mean, he was cool enough for you to eat chicken wings with. What could a date hurt?”

“Why are you defending him? You don’t know him either.”

“I’m not defending him. I’m looking out for you,” She scooted closer to the desk, looking Janessa in the eyes. “I’ve seen you shut down almost ever guy who shows any kind of interest in you. I know men can be trash but you don’t have to give up on all of them. Everybody isn’t Andrew.”

Janessa shifted uncomfortably at the sound of her ex-boyfriend’s name. “What does he have to do with anything?”

“I mean you haven’t really dated anyone seriously since him. And it’s been years now.”

“So what? Being single is a problem? Turning down some stupid ass niggas who just want to waste my time is wrong?” She scowled in a defensive tone.

“No. It’s just...I worry about you sometimes. I know between dealing with Drew and what happened with you dad, it’s been hard for you to—.”

“I said, I’m fine. Okay?” Janessa fingered the sun-shaped pendant on her necklace. ”Look, I need to pick up this equipment while I have some extra time.”

“Nessa, I’m didn’t mean to upset you,” Chantelle grabbed her hand.

“I’m cool,” Janessa snatched her hand back. She stood up, grabbing her denim jacket and purse. “I’ll see you when I get back.”

Chantelle sighed, walking out of the office with her. “Okay.”

—

Janessa rushed through Joyner’s Sporting Goods, one of the only Black-owned sporting good stores in the city. She hated last minute shopping. But she obviously couldn’t trust her assistant with a simple task. Plus, she needed to get out the office. Chantelle’s comments had gotten to her. She knew she meant well, but her relationship with Andrew was a sensitive topic for her. He was her first everything, including her first heartbreak. She met him right after her father passed. He took advantage of her vulnerability and insecurity, always insinuating she wasn’t pretty enough or needed to lose weight. In the end, he winded up leaving her for some chick he was sleeping with while they were still together. Janessa was a complete mess after that. Chantelle was the one who helped her keep it all together. She didn’t have any other family around since her father was basically a single parent. Chantelle was even the one who encouraged her to start volunteering at the center in the first place. She was all Janessa had.

“Damn. I should have gotten a cart.” Janessa said as she felt her phone vibrating in her pocket. She shifted the stuff in her arms around to answer.

“Hello?”

“Hey. Just checking your ETA. We still have some details we need you to finalize for this weekend.” Chantelle said through the phone.

“I’m still in Joyner’s but I should be finished soon,” Janessa sighed, shuffling her weight between her feet. “Channy, I’m sorry about earlier. I know I was a little rude. It’s just all that stuff...I don’t have time for it right now.”

“Yeah, I probably shouldn’t have brought it up while you were working. I was just concerned,” she said.

“I know. And I appreciate it. You’re always looking out for me.”

“And you know this,” Chantelle joked. “For both you and your lil nani, at this point. Because I’m concerned for her too.”

Janessa let out a loud laugh. She turned around to continue her shopping and smacked right into a shelf, knocking everything out of her arms.

“Shit,” Janessa yelped.

“You okay?” Chantelle asked.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” Janessa sighed, trying to balance her phone between her shoulder and ear as she kneeled down. “I just need to hurry up and get out of here.“

“You need some help?”

Janessa looked up in the direction of a familiar voice. Standing there was Erik, with a smug little smirk on his handsome face. He wore a black hoodie that read ‘Lost Tribe’, black basketball shorts, and all black Air Max 90’s. His locs hung loosely to one side.

“Aw hell,” She whispered, still crouched down. “Not you.”

“Look Too Tough, I’m just trying to help. With your short, little arms I don’t think you can hold all that and run ya mouth on the phone at the same time,” He teased, leaning on his shopping cart.

“Huh? Who was that?” Chantelle questioned.

“Nobody. I’ll talk to you later,” Janessa quickly hung up and turned her attention back to Erik. “Too tough? Really nigga?”

“Yea, cause that’s how you was acting the other night,” He grinned, his gold slugs gleaming.

“Whatever,” She tried to grab some of her stuff off the floor. “I’m good, I got it.”

“You good,” Erik mocked, squatting down to help her. “What you need with all these toys, anyways? You got kids?”

“And if I do? Will that get you to leave me alone?”

“Nah. Kids love me,” He placed a couple of baseball bats in the cart.

Janessa rolled her eyes and pursed her lips. “Well, for your information, nosey. I don’t have any kids. These are for the center I work at.”

“Riight. Director of the East Oakland Community Outreach Center. Most Influential Community Leader of the Year.”

“You’ve been stalking me or something?”

Erik chuckled, “No, but I do tend to research things that interest me.”

Janessa snorted, rolling her eyes harder. “You’re laying it on pretty thick there, sir.”

”I could say the same for you and all your attitude, ma’am.”

Janessa let out a long sigh. This nigga got an answer for everything.

“Look, I still have more shopping to get done and other places to be. So, I can’t stand here and chat with you all day.”

“Cool, me too. Let’s go.” Erik grabbed the cart, and turned around. He pushed it towards the next aisle. Janessa reluctantly followed. She didn’t really need a shopping buddy but that didn’t stop Erik from grabbing her shopping list and picking things out. She attempted to regain control over her shopping trip but Erik wasn’t having it. Eventually she relented, figuring it was easier to let him take over instead of fighting him in the middle of the store. She tried to keep the conversation at a minimum but that was damn near impossible with all the questions he asked. Eventually, she told him more about her work at the center, including the Juneteenth Celebration. He told her that he owned and operated his own fitness studio, which made sense as to why he seem to know the store like back of his hand. And why he was built like a fucking brick wall. Janessa had to catch herself from staring at his body every time he turned away or bent down. But before she realized it, she found herself actually enjoying his company. Well, for a second time.

They both checked out and headed towards the parking lot. Janessa unlocked her car and popped the trunk. Erik pulled the shopping cart towards it and loaded her bags inside.

“Thanks,” she said jingling her keys in her hands.

“No problem,” Erik closed the trunk. “Honestly, I’m surprised you’re letting me help you, Too Tough.”

Janessa laughed at the nickname this time. “Are you always this corny?”

“You could find out if you let me take you on a proper date.”

“Haven’t we done this already?”

“Yeah, when you shot me down in front of all those people and left me heartbroken in the middle of the floor. Only to twirl away and out the door with your friend,” Erik recited, dramatically flaring his hands. “Yet here I am, brave enough to try again. You gonna go easy on a nigga this time?”

Janessa rolled her eyes. “That was me being easy on you.”

Erik let out a light laugh, “I couldn’t tell. I mean damn, ma. You act like I got the cooties or something.”

Janessa noticed his face soften a little. She sighed. “Listen, I got a lot going on right now. Things have been crazy hectic at work. And this weekend is approaching fast. I have tons of things to do. Paperwork to review. Hella meetings to attend. And I still have to figure out how to replace the volunteers we lost,” Janessa took a long breath to stop her ranting. “I don’t have the time for this.”

“Volunteers?”

“Yeah, we’re short a bunch of volunteers for the celebration.”

“Hmm,” Erik rub his hand through his beard. “You know, I’m free this weekend.”

“What?”

“I’m saying, I can stop by and help out. Whatever you need.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. On one condition, though.” Erik moved closer and lowered himself to meet her height, his nose almost touching hers. The scent of his cologne teased Janessa’s nostrils. Damnit, he smells good.

“And what’s that?” She said, bringing herself back to the conversation.

“You agree to go out with me.”

Janessa squinted her eyes at him. She wasn’t in a position to turn down volunteers, especially if she wanted this event to go off without a hitch.

Erik raised an eyebrow at her, a smirk dancing on his lips.

“Fine. I’m sure your brolic ass could help with some of the heavy lifting.”

Erik shot her a big grin and licked his lips. “Perfect.”

Janessa gave him the center’s contact information and a copy of the event flyer before getting into her car.

“Aight, Too Tough. I’ll see you this weekend.” Erik said.

She pursed her lips lightly. “See you, Erik.”

He winked and jogged off in the opposite direction.

Janessa started her car and pulled out the lot. As she drove, her thoughts drifted to Erik. His persistence was annoying as fuck. But at the same time, kind of cute? She thought about what Chantelle said earlier. Maybe she could give him a chance. It’s just one date.

She let out a deep sigh. The whole thing still made her feel uneasy. Erik was a charming motherfucker. She knew that too much of him and she’d be like Jill Scott, singing about grits and shit.

She clutched her necklace, fiddling with the sun-shaped pendant.

It was going to be an interesting weekend.

——

Taglist: @essaysbyciara @janelledarling @destinio1 @bitchacho25 @chaneajoyyy @quietstorm-73 @lifelover4u

Let me know what y’all think!

Like, comment, & reblog!

🌞

[truethingsiwishicouldsay]

What is your opinion on trans people? Like, the trans people who have transitioned and such?

OK, well, here are my thoughts, which are pretty nuanced so this gets long. I have bolded the main points to help break up the textwall.

First, the surgery thing. Whether or not a trans person has had gender reassignment surgery does not change my basic perception of them as a human being. They do not “qualify into womanhood or manhood” by getting surgery. They are not more or less valid as people because they treat their dysphoria with surgery or treat it in some other way. That’s an individual choice that should between them, their doctors and their loved ones. 

It may change their bodies to inspire people at large to treat them according to their gender identities, which in turn helps their dysphoria. But I honestly feel like the FIRST goal of all people who are considering surgery that drastic shouldn’t be surgery to get others to accept your womanhood or manhood so you can accept yourself. It should be radical self-acceptance. You cannot afford to define yourself by others’ perception of you. There are just too many shitty people in the world.

If you can get to the place where you can truly say, “other people’s issues with me don’t define me” and have a basic foundation of self-respect to stand on, you’re in a better headspace to contemplate things like whole-body surgery, or deal with the side effects of a lifelong hormone regimen.

Now for the rest of my thoughts.

Unless they’ve done something awful, like Yaniv, I don’t come for individual trans people. Anyone who does that is a huge asshole and an actual transphobe. If I have a problem with a trans person it is 100% with something they did or with their politics, not their transness.

I am highly critical of modern transactivism and the way it eats away at the rights and boundaries of others, tries to politicize sexual entitlement, fucks with the definition of words, seems to specifically target cis women with demands, boundary violations and antagonism, is homophobic in its demands for sexual “access” to same-sex-attracted people, and encourages behavior such as nailing dead rats to rape recovery center doors, threatening people, and in my sister’s and my case, beating them.

Yeah, I got my ribs cracked by a trans woman tree times my size on the RUMOR that my sister was a TERF. A rumor spread vindictively by a drunk because she wouldn’t cheat on THE AWESOMEST WIFE IN THE UNIVERSE with her. I fucking HATE the TERF patrol. They silence and harm women. But that doesn’t give me the right to hate trans people.

Trans people are human beings who should be able to live their lives without abuse. That includes everything from idiots marching into their journals and bullying them and their partners on up to the Hell trans POC face in places like Brazil. 

There is a difference between biologically-based sex and socially defined gender. “Trans women are women” doesn’t mean trans women are biologically female. Otherwise they would not be trans. 

You can’t deny biological reality to cater to your dysphoria without putting yourself at risk healthwise, and without ending up at odds with pretty much everyone. I will call my trans brothers “dude” and laugh at their dropped-my-packer-in-the-bathroom stories and acknowledge their gender as male, but I’m still going to feel like I should say something if they’re having PCOS symptoms or something and won’t go to a doctor because dysphoria. Your body may not fit your soul, but it doesn’t deserve neglect.

Because gender is socially defined and often toxic, it’s up for grabs. Defy it, redefine it, jump gender boxes, set up new ones, whatever--do you. 

Just don’t scream at people with no experience of it who don’t quite get it at first. I have no fucking idea what gender box you’re sitting in if you give no outward signs at all, so don’t yell at my scramblebrained self for not being psychic. 

I try not to misgender people because I don’t like hurting people who aren’t even part of the conversation. That does not mean I don’t believe there’s no difference between the life experiences of transgender people and (what’s most commonly called) cis people. Of course there is.

Sex criminals who reinvent themselves as trans women to try and get into female prisons are absolutely fucking suspect. 

If you want to change your body to match your sense of gender, that’s your business--so long as you pay real attention to the medical implications. I hear about trans guys hurting themselves with binders and my response is 100% like “Ow, oo honey, please be careful” and 0% like “look at this crazy person blahblahblah here’s some transphobia”

Puberty blockers and transing kids horrify me, in part because I know a kid going through it and he’s already suffering massive side effects. He’s. Nine.

I get pissed off when historical female heroes get transed. Let us have our heroes. Don’t try to redefine every brave, gender-defying woman as a man.

I am wary of self-ident because of the ways it is being abused. 

Dysphoria sounds like absolute Hell. Personally I’m not sure surgery and such is the answer, but it’s not something I have ever dealt with. I certainly don’t think people should be pressured into surgery and hormones as “the answer” or “the only answer”.

Cotton ceiling activists are fighting for the sexual coercion of women and are loathsome. Nobody owes anybody sex, and thinking otherwise is a sign of toxic male socialization, full stop.

Many of the problems such as bathroom bills could be more easily addressed through physical innovation rather than political arguing. What we need is better design of public lavatories to provide everyone with both truly private and accessible public space. This would include everything from protecting from predators and privacy-invaders, to making sure everyone can pee without having a damn sex/gender debate at the door.

Biological males do not belong on girls’ high school or college sports teams, or in women’s competitive sports. Growing up male gave them physical advantages whether they acknowledge it or not. Also if a man in his fifties is on a high school or college women’s sports team because he “feels like a teenage girl” and you don’t think that’s suspect...

Girlhood and sexism are experienced by cis women and non-passing trans men. Boyhood and male privilege are experienced by cis men and non-passing trans women. People treat you according to the sex they perceive you to be, not the gender you perceive yourself to be. How people perceive and treat you determines your socialization and experience of sexism and privilege, not how you identify.

Screaming transphobia because a conversation about biological female health “doesn’t include trans women” is simply irrational. If you don’t have the plumbing or deal with the issues, the conversation doesn’t apply to you. Derailing conversations about female biology to nitpick about the words used is also a silencing tactic.  On the other hand, I will gladly bitch about periods with trans guys and acknowledge that when it happens they’re probably wrestling with an additional burden of heavily triggered dysphoria.

Female erasure is real. The tendency of transactivists to demand that words like “front hole” and “uterus holders” be used on us to spare their feelings COMPLETELY IGNORES WHAT BEING REFERRED TO LIKE THAT DOES TO US. Half the human population should not face dehumanizing language and treatment so that a small percentage of the population can feel a little better.

Feminists have also noticed that 99.9% of the time, it’s women who are expected to give ground, change our language, and change our behavior to accommodate. Men don’t face the same expectations. They are not confronted online, their organizations are not attacked, their buildings are not defaced. Transactivists have a huge sexism problem.

It is absolutely possible to be of the female gender and yet rampantly, blatantly and deeply discriminate against members of the female sex. Any wariness I have of trans women largely stems from negative experiences of trans female sexism and assault against trans men and cis women. 

Sexism, sexual entitlement, out of control tantrum-throwing, taking pleasure in threats and use of violence, demanding to be at the center of every movement you are in (whether transgender or feminist, for example), and the demand that biologically female people cater to you are all signs of toxic male socialization. I used to rather arrogantly say that trans women should jettison these as part of their transition, but the truth is that every human being should. But it’s still causing problems.

TLDR: it really depends on the specific trans issue and how it intersects with Feminism, social pressures, self-image, and scientific fact. Transactivism has huge problems, but trans people are human beings who deserve basic consideration and respect regardless.

[schizo-spoon-blog]

Spoonbender Society: Selected Schizoepistles

FW: FW: FW: FW: FW: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE:

We Live In A Society

People say we live in a democracy/democratic republic, a form of government intended to amplify what people think and address problems they find to be important. But it doesn’t ever seem to function that way.

The issue is in voter suppression, but as always not in the way people generally think voter suppression works. The issue is psychic, spiritual, and social suppression of citizens. Systemic over-development of senses of rationalization, neuroticism and anxiety, industrially incentivized narcissism.

People develop a deathly fear of what others think, or may think, or what they may have thought about them or what they think, what they may think, or what they may have thought.

A democracy where we’d rather not hear what other people have to say, because we find their thoughts offensive and retarded. That’s one thing people are happy to share. But because we suspect that there are so many offensive retards in the world, we fear... "Perhaps I’m a retard too?" You wonder that even for just a second in your life, if you have a soul. It’s OK to be a retard really, but you’ll never believe that it’s OK, and that's probably What Your Fucking Problem Is.

The opinions of us purported non-retards, to avoid sounding like complete retards, end up soft, ambivalent and stale, phrased like True Neutral Orgasm in Ego-Death Nirvana, but less Chad, less gratifying, and nobody cums. To not be reminded of the possibility of our own retardation, we like to pretend that if the retards just shut up and nobody can hear them, they go away. If they are Physically Removed from our presence, their evil thoughts and their malicious intentions will go away with them. We win. But they don’t. They never do.

We always fail to Psychically Remove them. We lose.

We can hypothesize a law of conservation of hatred, correlate one too of love, but the truth is banal. How can it be in light of our timeline? Why are these Hate Groups all over the place? Hitler’s corpse is rotting or burned to a crisp, or embalmed in a tomb or made a toilet for Some Rich Dude ((parenthetical removed)). (Or was he cloned?)

Great Fatherland Germany - defeated by the "untermensch" and partitioned like a cheese between rats. That Great "Faustian" and "Supreme" "Aryan" Race is subjugated by the hated "Juden" and all the "vermin" of the world, humiliated, castrated to be reunited a shadow of its former self. Yet the Nazi threat is omnipresent nearly a century later, in an era which may be an alien planet to those who lived in Hitler’s time.

How is it that the Great Allies, our fathers and grandfathers, achieved such total victory over so loathsome a foe, so unsympathetic and vile, only to see his Evil infect their own countrymen and posterity? How can something so thoroughly defeated still persist in what could be our neighbors or our co-workers our bosses or our employees? Each one could be a secret Nazi now. In parenting blogs moms worry that their children are becoming Nazis from goofy men they see in videos on line. Marriages are ending in divorce because the husband or wife is allegedly or apparently a Nazi. How could this happen?

Have you ever seen “The Matrix? Who hasn’t? You know all about the red and blue pills, and all the rainbow-flag DLC that it comes with, black and pink and green and brown and in configurations invisible to the human eye, I’m sure. If you don't know, the pills are portals to different realities. Take the black pill and you only see death, take the white pill and everything’s alright, take the blue pill you vote for Hillary, take the pink you become genderqueer. But this is not about taking any pills. This is about going off your meds. Going straight edge - except for whiskey, cigarettes, cocaine and pussy. It’s about the spoon - no, not for shooting up. It's for bending - with your mind. Remember? That spoon - The Spoon That Isn’t There.

That spoon is a Nazi.

If you are aware that there is no spoon you can tie it into knots. You can make it into a balloon animal. That Nazi Spoon could be a Jewish Socialist from Vermont, or a kosher Brooklyn Zionist, or a Dominican Taxi Driver. It could be an evil copy of your own son from Bizzaro World. It's probably your uncle. It could be Rottweilers, and Chihuahuas. Whether Pitbulls are Nazis or Jews/Blacks is an ongoing debate in the contemporary discourse.

But imaginary shit can be whatever the hell you want. You don’t have to be "The One" to Bend the Spoon. You don’t have to be anyone at all. What was the name of the kid who said the line about the spoon again? Nobody knows, nobody cares, and that's the beauty of Spoonbending.

"The Nazi" is the guy who keeps talking when he should shut up. He might be autistic, but he could just be an asshole. There is a strong possibility he could be both. Why does he keep saying all of this ridiculous stuff? He’s more offensive and more retarded than the usual, but it feels like He Has To Be This Way. Like it’s his curse, He Knows Too Much. He fell down some rabbit hole and ended up gorged on Fascist Propaganda. He mentions some girl named Celine. He rambles on about some guy you’re pretty sure is a Tekken character... the guy who turns into the Devil maybe. He mentions a vacation in Turkey with his family but insists on saying Constantinople and there’s a wild-man tear in his eye. He insists he knows about Atlantis and calls you gay for saying you liked Aquaman. Instead of saying goodbye he says “Subscribe to Pewdiepie.” The Nazi belongs in an institution. You wonder if he has guns and if maybe he should have them taken for a while. He probably doesn’t, but you can’t be sure. He’s 12.

When is it too early to become a school shooter? Is 12 too early to be an incel?

12 is probably the age at which incels hatch from their human hosts.

“Who is Pewdiepie, and how has he groomed my nephew into the Hitler Youth?” many families today are asking. They think they’re looking at a spoon. Conditoning fills your heart with a desperate desire to see the spoon. A fact, pure fact, logical, reasonable, peer reviewed, widely accepted, So True, a Textbook Fact. The spoon. Everyone else sees it too. That goddamn Nazi Spoon.

You ever try to ask this at a party as an ice-breaker and see how the guests react?

“So, anyway, was The Holocaust Real?”

“Excuse me, what?”

“What do you think, was it real, how many people do you think died, don’t the gas chambers sound goofy to you?”

”Um… no… they don’t sound goofy. What are you talking about?”

“You ever hear about the Nazi Roller-coaster they had at one of the camps? They’d put Jews into a roller-coaster except they’d fly off the edge and get splattered. That’s how the Nazis killed ‘em. I swear. I read it in a book by a Holocaust Survivor. Impossible to believe if it weren’t so True. No shit. You hear about that?”

”I’m… gonna get another beer.”

Of course there’s a Correct answer to that initial question. It’s also the Right answer. Who would ever get this wrong? It's the 2+2=X of History. Well…

Pop-Quiz, Random Nazi Check, Anybody here Hate Jews? You a Groyper, Son? What’s so funny? You think the Cookie Monster committing genocide is a laughing matter boy? We don’t take kindly to your kind around here.

Maybe you should give the Nazi-check thing a try, it’ll separate sheep and goat real easy for you.

If you do this everyone will think you are The Nazi.

The Nazis hated Jews, but did they hate real Jews as Jews exist, or did they hate the Fascist Propaganda Jew who was a work of fiction? On that note, were you in love with your last failed relationship, or just pretending you were? Have you ever had one impression of a person, but then learned they were another kind of person entirely? That first impression you had, the one that wasn’t True, was that a Real Person, or Imaginary? But you still spent all that money and sweat on an imaginary girl, huh?

Hope her hole was real.

I think that fake bitch of an ex you dated was a nazi. Your ex was a fascist. Oh, was she Jewish? It doesn’t matter, changes nothing. I’ve never met her - wouldn't matter if I did. When I imagine her, she's in Hugo Boss black and got skull-and-bones on her officer's cap, and she's saying racial slurs as she ruins your life, cheats on you, drains your bank account and kills your dog after getting custody over it in court. I imagine all bad people this way. All women who rejected me were exactly like this.

But I must breach working-class anti-fascist solidarity, and admit, on That Question ("Would you?").... Yeah, I would. Sorry bro. Take me away Comrades, I admit it, I'd give it to that Nazi Jew raw. Would I do that to her as she exists, or the Fascist Propaganda her who is a work of fiction?

That depends. You still got her number?

haha it's ok you can call me an incel, it's a step up from what i actually am

(User was banned for this post.)

The Nazi and the Fascist aren’t my hallucinations. That’s not my mental illness. But it’s adjacent to me, it’s thrown at me without my Consent, and it's a Trigger. I'm paranoid about commies myself.

In the multicultural cyberpunk year of 2019, with its trans-human gender-sex-orientations, anti-racist ethno-narcissism, fanatic anti-normalism, cultish critical theory intersections, grand byzantine minimalism, placidity, in such splendid predatory banality… In the absolute state of the world! – Aah! An undead ideology conceived by a salty Frenchman in the badlands of South Dakota in the 1890s shambles forth the devour all that is Good and Holy in the Great United States of AmeriKKKa, God Help Us All! And A Child Will Lead Those Dreadful Legions of Corruption Upon All The Meek Of Our Fallen World!

Or it’s just a spoon that isn’t real.

Nobody wants to be straight-forward, and I gotta navigate the labyrinths of euphemism. Maybe there's something weird going on - how people talk, how people act, how people think, none of those correlate to each other. It makes you feel schizo when you do all your mental rain-man calculus and realize there's a fucking Elephant in the living room and he's not wearing any goddamn pants. Once that little ray-of-sunshine blesses your tiny bug-man brain to enlighten you that the elephant is real, and the spoon isn't, it's only a matter of time before you're crowned in tinfoil a Potato King on your off-grid Bug-out estate in the Idaho Panhandle, or start drinking yourself to death and bullying mailmen (or both).

If you'd like to avoid that sort of Elephant-Mania Spoon-denialism, maybe you should try answering Uncomfortable Question instead of being so Weird about it, oh wise Mr. Kirk, Mr. Shapiro, Mr. Talking-Head, Mr. Important-Guy, Mr. Movement, Mr. Politics, Mr. Voice of Reason, Mr. Metatron. Take it from a schizo-maniac with a manifesto, you’re freaking out the hoes.

Try Praeger U talking points out on a Tinder date and watch her shrivel up from instathot to instahag -- she will go through menopause before your very eyes, that's how dry her pussy will get. Trying not to sound racist while talking about the Antarctic Nazi base and the importance of craniometry in ethnocultural anthropology will get you more action than anything that sounds like a paraphrase of Charlie Kirk -- because even if you're still being cringe at least you aren't being fake. Point and laugh at that fucking elephant - the moron isn't even wearing pants! That'll get her thinking about taking your pants off. Or not - it's not foolproof. If she doesn't laugh, red-flag, she's a Nazi so Begone Thot!

Please, for the love of God, go off-script! See the damn elephant and forget the spoon, and forget the wise Mr. Kirk, Mr. Shapiro, Mr. Talking-Head, Mr. Important-Guy, Mr. Movement, Mr. Politics, Mr. Voice of Reason, Mr. Metatron. Take it from a schizo-maniac with a manifesto, you'll go insane if you don't.

[. . . ] [T]hen there's that neuroticism, that narcissism, that fear. The whole point of these politics groups and gatherings and Q&As is what, anyway? Is it really just basic marketing tactics, like a live-action advertisement you expect for people to passively consume as though it is persuasive? To shove free-markets and free-speeches down my throat and have me swallow it without having anything that’s been bothering me answered? What do I look like to you, an Ideology Whore? You don't even reciprocate a good time, huh? I'm not that kind of girl. You didn't even buy me dinner. You made me pay to bore me. I'd cuck you if we dated just to make a very important point -- fully aware it'll go over your head. Fuck you.

We gotta hear The Script. We gotta recite The Script.

Real Conservatives Think Like This. Real Progressives Think Like This. White People Walk Like This. Black People Walk Like This.

Gotta hear that joke ten thousand times so you can recite it like a mantra in your sleep.

Free markets mean free people. Facts don’t care about your feelings. Private Companies can do what they wish. What you do in your bedroom is your own business. We want legal immigration, not illegal.

Abolish ICE. Your childhood hero says Trans-Rights. Do you not want me in the movement? Abolish whiteness.

The Racism of Lowered Expectations.

Reparations.

A white nation.

Workers of the world unite!

Abortion is a human right.

Have you got it memorized?

Let’s go over it a few more times.

Say it with me! Hillary was found innocent in a hundred hearings and it is sexist to besmirch her reputation.

Repeat after me! Trump’s economy is the best in history, and if he's racist why is black unemployment is at historical lows.

You benefit from unearned privilege. You suffer from toxic masculinity.

The world is about to end and everything you know and love will die, and it is your fault, for not believing in the correct things at the correct time.

Are you laughing yet?

I’m dying. I feel like an e-girl, and my orbiters are sides.

But do you wanna know what I really think? The whole bit about psychic and social suppression? You ever hear about the Procrustean bed? Well, what if we put your political, social, moral consciousness and your psychic abilitys into a bed like that. We could talk about it. You ever play Xenogears?

Or you could just put me in a box. I really wouldn't mind. I'm Houdini. Hey, was Houdini a Nazi, like Henry Ford? Can we get a fact-check? I didn't mean to be problematic.

Break the Conditoning - Step outside the box, and use it as a step ladder. Ascend, Beyond the Box - use The Spoon.

Bush did 9/11, the Israeli’s danced, the Aliens killed JFK - sure - but I only say this because of my MK Ultra Schizo-brain. It’s true, it’s false, it’s fact, it’s myth, I don’t have to believe any of it -- I also don't have to believe any of you if I don’t want to. My feelings do not care about your facts, and did you know that some of the world's most uncomfortable facts are manifested into being by uncomfortable feelings? Is it the fact of the bullet that kills the political dissident, or the feelings of his executioner? Is it the deranged lust of the rapist that violates his victim, or the fact of his power to do so? I guess it depends on whether the perpetrator said "nothing personnel kid" before he committed the act. I don't know about that Nazi Rapist's feelings, but MY feelings are valid and I can believe or disbelieve whatever I want on the basis of my feelings, and my feelings alone. My feelings bend the spoon of your facts.

Are you going to say I don’t have the right, Adolf? Sucks for you, bud, I may be a commie by blood, but the heart that pumps it was assembled in the ole USA -- and we got the Right to be a Retard here in America. It's a Free Country.

[Note: please insert image of Jonathan Frakes from Beyond Belief: Fact or Fiction]

Now that the dust has settled: Was the Nazi Roller-Coaster Real? Or did we put the Truth in a Mass-Grave? We will let you know at the conclusion of our program.

Sincerely and Full of Suffering Your Friend Always, Orcbrand

[chelseainlovvve]

What are your fetishes/turn-ons?

I’ve been asked this question a few times so I thought I’d answer it.

Black guys – Obviously lol, just look at my blog. I already wrote a post about some of the things I like about them sexually here. And a big part of the reason I like them so much is because they tend to be better at fulfilling all my other fetishes/turn-ons below.

Domination/submission – This is a big one for me. I LOVE being dominated by really masculine guys. I feel like it brings out something primal within me and it feels so freeing. When a guy is really masculine and dominating it makes me feel so much more feminine and submissive, which is such a good feeling.

Spanking/hair pulling/roughness – Obviously! These things are pretty normal, but they’re a big part of feeling dominated. A little pain during sex is amazing as long as it doesn’t overpower the pleasure. That kind of roughness drives me crazy and makes everything feel so much more intense and primal.

Mild choking – The feeling of a mans hand around your neck is really powerful. It makes you very aware of just how dominant he is over you and how much control he has over your body.

Big cock – Basically the penis equivalent of spanking/hair pulling/etc. It makes sex feel way more rough and intense, except it’s little more special because it’s his penis doing it inside of you. I orgasm pretty easily even with average sized guys, but like I said before I love being dominated and average ones just don’t look or feel intense/dominating, so it’s not quite the same. Plus big ones just plain feel good. There’s something extra satisfying about that full feeling and the kind of orgasms they give me.

Mild exhibition/forced exhibition – I have mixed feelings about exhibition because I’m really scared of pictures of me ending up on the internet and coming back to family/friends. However as long as it’s safe, showing off is really hot. And being forced to show off feels really dominating. It’s a super intense feeling to be naked around a bunch of masculine guys who you know want to fuck you. It’s like being a rabbit standing in the middle of a pack of wolves. You feel so small and vulnerable. Plus it feels really freeing and exciting to be naked in general.

Flirting/teasing – I realize this is super tame, but I feel like people underestimate how horny some women get from flirting and teasing guys. I grew up in a super conservative church environment where flirting was basically our equivalent of an intense make-out session, and teasing was just plain slutty lol. But even now, teasing guys and knowing you’re making them horny is a huge rush, especially if you do it innocently so that they don’t realize you’re teasing and showing off on purpose.

Being degraded – This one is confusing to me. In real life I want to be respected and am a big advocate for equal rights between men and women. But being degraded in the bedroom is a huge turn on. Maybe it’s because so many guys put attractive girls up on a pedestal and treat us like goddesses, the feeling of being treated like you’re so much less is really taboo and intense.

Being used – Basically the same as being degraded. It feels really intense. One moment a guy that wants to date you is talking about how beautiful you are. He treats you with respect and talks about how awesome of a person you are. And then some other guy just uses you as his personal sex toy. You know you’re beautiful and have all sorts of positive things to offer the world, and he treats you like you’re nothing but a fuck hole and cum dumpster. That contrast makes it really hot for some reason.

Being owned – Kind of like above too, it’s degrading and especially taboo if you’re a big supporter of equal rights among genders in everyday life. I’ve had guys do things like give me chokers and tell me to wear it 24/7. I’ve even worn collars before (which for some reason feels freeing instead of restrictive to be owned like that). But to me the most intense thing is being treated like he owns me, like not being asked for my permission if he wants to use my body for sex since he thinks he owns me. It’s so wrong to let someone treat you that way, but feels so good for some reason.

Being marked – There’s nothing that makes you feel owned and dominated quite like seeing the marks he leaves on your body. Looking in the mirror and seeing bite marks on your shoulder, hickies on your neck, marks on your breasts, bruises everywhere (especially on your butt), your sore and swollen labia, your red butt, the bruises on your thighs that perfectly outline finger marks where he grabbed you, that sore feeling deep inside that you feel every time you move. It’s all a constant reminder of what he did to you. I always feel really owned by a guy when he leaves his mark on me long after he’s gone and it’s a constant turn on.

Rape/non-consent – I don’t actually want to be raped for real, but I’ve had some very borderline experiences that were incredibly intense. There’s something hot about driving a guy so far into a sexual craze for you that he can’t stop himself. And feeling like he won’t stop even if you say no is a really intense feeling. You feel so small and helpless. It’s complete domination and forced submission along with being used and degraded.

Cuckolding – I was never really into the cuckolding fetish. I’ve gotten a little more into it lately because I have friends doing it in real life and the real life version is a lot hotter to me than the fake tumblr version, but it’s still not really my thing. But interracial and cuckolding have gotten so tied together on tumblr that I’m pretty used to it. I can’t even find the interracial pictures I like without going to cuckolding blogs half the time. I’m not against it or anything and there are some hot aspects to it. It could even possibly be something I’m into when I’m out of college and looking to get married if I find the right guy, but for now, no. (Please don’t message me looking for a girlfriend to cuckold you lol. If you just want to talk about it that’s fine, but I’m not looking for a tumblr BF.)

Cheating – I know it’s wrong and I don’t want to hurt anyone, but for some reason the rush of cheating is insanely hot to me. The aspects of cuckolding that are similar to cheating is part of what makes it hot to me, but I’m definitely more turned on by real cheating. There’s nothing quite like the rush of cheating with a really hot, masculine guy. The act of cheating and being risky about it amplifies the whole situation and tabooness so much! That said, I’m not proud of cheating in the past and don’t want to do it again. I got really lucky that nobody ever found out and got hurt.

Cum – I feel like being turned on by cum is just a natural/biological thing for most girls. It’s strange to me that some girls are grossed out by cum. I can’t really explain why cum is hot, but it is. Feeling a guys cock throb when he cums literally drives me wild. There’s something really satisfying about it. It makes me feel so good about myself knowing I made a guy lose control and have an orgasm, and cum is kind of the reward for it. It feels very intimate. Plus lots of cum feels very masculine for some reason, and having it on or in me triggers my fantasy of being marked, so the more the better.

Getting pregnant/pregnancy risk – This is another common theme in cuckolding that I find hot. I think it’s another biological thing because I don’t actually want to get pregnant at this point in my life, but for some reason the fantasy of it is still crazy hot to me. When attractive guys dirty talk about getting me pregnant it drives me crazy, and the idea of getting pregnant from a black guy is especially taboo because of my family. It’s super intimate, plus sex for the purpose of getting pregnant is incredibly satisfying for some reason. Also it triggers all my fantasies of being used, owned, and marked since getting pregnant is basically the most permanent way for those things to happen. One of my biggest turn-ons is of guys forcibly cumming inside me to get me pregnant even when I say not to. It’s like super hot domination on a biological level.

Multiple guys/gangbang – Not really a special fetish. Most girls fantasize about it at some point. There’s something hot about the idea of being used by multiple guys like that.

Scent – I mentioned this in my post about what I like about black guys. Certain guys have a natural scent to them that drives me wild that I think has to be pheromones. It’s one of my biggest turn-ons when I first meet a guy and for some reason I’ve only ever experienced it with black guys. I don’t understand it, but some of my friends have said the same thing and some of them experience it with white guys too so it’s definitely just a general thing that happens.

Muscles/athletic – Muscles, athletic ability, and masculinity go hand in hand. I’m not really attracted to guys that aren’t at least somewhat athletic. I work very hard going to the gym almost every day so if a guy doesn’t bother to put any effort into his body we probably won’t be a match. But black guys tend to be more muscular and athletic on average which is another thing I like about them.

Masculine presence – This is hard to describe. Some people call it being “Alpha”, but I’m not sure I like calling it that. I think guys being violent and fighting is a huge turn off. But when I guy has a sort of masculine presence and is subtly dominant over the other guys around him, that is a huge turn on to me. It’s easy to be dominant over women, but it says way more about you as a man if other men are submissive towards you or view you as the “alpha” if that’s what you want to call it. This one tends to be a huge point in favor of black guys. I don’t know what it is about them, but they seem to have strong, subtle masculinity down in a way that nobody else does.

Anyway, let me know if you like when I answer questions like this. I feel like most guys just want pictures so I kind of haven’t bothered making text posts. Feel free to ask me something if you want me to answer it!

[lickstynine]

Can you talk a little about Kazu's background? I'm curuous about him.

Alrighty, I am down for this! This is gonna be super long, and chock-full of triggers, so the faint of heart should probably cop out now!

TW: alcohol, child abuse, death, drug abuse, fire, homophobia, mental illness, rape/noncon, underage sex, violence

Kazu’s mom was a cheating whore. He was conceived during a one-night stand while his mom’s husband was out of town. This wouldn’t have been a noticeable issue, except his dad was Russian, not Japanese, and so he came out super tall with blue eyes. So of course husband realized Kazu wasn’t his kid, and hated him for it. Mom hated him, too, but for different reasons. She was just a selfish bitch that never wanted kids. They were negligent of him at best, and abusive at worst. Now, something very important to note here is that Kazu is super smart. He was very mentally advanced for his age as a child (and physically advanced - boi was huuuuge), and when he was four, he got sick of being treated like shit, and set their house on fire in the middle of the night.

With his mom and her husband dead, Kazu wound up in an orphanage. He was the definition of a problem child. He broke shit, he lit things on fire, he got into fights, and he never went to school. By age 8, he was getting in trouble for drawing dirty pictures of the other boys at the orphanage. Around this same time, he started getting bullied for being gay. Like, bullied bad. So he gradually learned how to fight, after getting the shit beaten out of him many a time. He and the rest of the boys were basically at war though the rest of his time at the orphanage. I should mention, they never ever got him to go to school. That just didn’t happen. The people running the orphanage gave the fuck up.

Okay, so at about age twelve, Kazu got into a really bad fight. Like, by now he’s about the size of your average Japanese adult, and he fucked up the other kid. He realized he was old enough that he’d probably face serious consequences, so he just said fuck it and ran away to live on the streets. He spent the next few months picking pockets for money to buy food, before realizing he could do better. He started saving up money he stole, and used it to buy a fake ID (I know 12 seems young for that to be effective, but keep in mind he’s like at least 5’6” and looks about five to ten years older than he is). Now he could get into nightclubs, and he executed his master plan: find a guy, go home with him, sleep with him, raid his wallet, raid his fridge, use his shower, and leave.

This brilliant technique worked for him for about six months, until one very bad night. It was late June, like a Wednesday night at two in the morning, so there was nobody in the bar cause it was fucking closing time on a Wednesday. The few guys in there he’d struck out with, and he was about to give up and go sleep on a park bench. He really didn’t want to though, because a bad storm was starting to roll in. As he was about to call it, this 30-ish woman approached him. She was like “You ever slept with a girl?” and he was like “No but I’d rather try it than sleep in the rain.”

They go back to her place, and things start getting hot and heavy. Before they can actually do shit, he chickens out, like ‘Nope. Can’t do this. Strictly into dick. Sorry.’ Luckily, she was like “That’s fine, I get it, just crash on the couch. I won’t kick you out at three am in the rain.” Now, this should have been the happy ending, but Kazu, what with his unchecked BPD and current drunken state, had a better idea. He realized he could still steal her wallet, so that’s what he tried to do. Exceeept… unlike men, women keep their wallets in their purses. So now he’s in her room, desperately digging through a purse full of shit while trying not to wake her up. After a few painfully long minutes, he finds it and turns to leave. And she’s right behind him.

Kazu ofc immediately panics. “I’m so sorry! Here, have your money back! Take everything I have, just please don’t call the cops!”

She shakes her head. “Oh, honey, I’m not calling the cops. In fact, you can have the money. But you have to earn it.” At this point, he tries to make a break for it, but she grabs him and they end up fighting. He gets slammed facefirst into the nightstand, leaving a huge gash that later became that scar down his face. She managed to get control over him, cause even though he had some fighting experience, he was still a drunk scrawny preteen.

So uh, we’re gonna fast forward a bit here, but I’m guessing you all know exactly what happened next. Three days later, Kazu was dumped onto the street, miserable and sore and fucking traumatized. If it were up to him, he would’ve just laid around doing nothing until he wasted away, but by now, the local bums were pretty familiar with him. They brought him food and water when they could, and generally just made sure he didn’t drop dead. After a few weeks of just sitting around praying for death, he went back to frequenting bars, mostly in hopes of drinking away the memories of what had happened. It didn’t work entirely, but it helped, and he slowly slid back into his former routine.

However, after a while, the alcohol just wasn’t bringing him enough solace anymore. So what does he go for? Heroin. Fantastic idea, right? Well, funny enough, keeping up a hard drug habit takes a decent amount of money, so he finds himself a ‘real’ job. He starts working as muscle-for-hire, working his way up the ladder of the underworld until he was the best hitman in the city. He was about sixteen or seventeen at that point, and he basically just stuck with that job for a few years.

Age 19. Kazu was just wandering around the shitty parts of town at midnight, as homeless junkie hitmen do, when he comes across a group of thugs about to beat up what looks like a fucking child. Deciding that he didn’t really approve of the odds here, and knowing how much he loved kicking ass, Kazu interfered. He kicked the shit out of a couple of the guys, which scared the rest off. Now, the kid that was about to get beat up? Actually a 21-year-old Minato.

Grateful for being rescued, and being Minato, smol one invites Kazu back to the little bakery he owns, and gives him cookies as thanks. He tells Kazu to come back anytime, that he was always welcome. Kazu, of course, had no intention of actually doing so, but a few days later, a mob boss he had really pissed off caught up with him and had him beaten fucking senseless. Clearly in need of help but semi in denial about it, the very beat up Kazu made his way back to the bakery, claiming he just needed a snack and some water. Minato, of course was like “Are you fucking kidding you’re bleeding in nine places come upstairs I’m taking care of you.” Kazu reluctantly agreed, and Min ended up nursing him back to health.

Once he was feeling better, Kazu ran off again, but he kept periodically dropping by the bakery to say hi, steal food, hang out. After a couple months, he finally got the balls to ask Min on a date, and they ended up going out. It was never really casual, they fell for each other hard and fast. Minato was and still is the only person Kazu has ever truly cared about, and Min believes Kazu is his soulmate. They stuck by each other through all sorts of bullshit, from the bakery almost going under, to Kazu getting clean (from heroin, at least. He’s still an awful drunk.) They were dating for about two years before Kazu proposed, and obviously, they got married. About two years into their marriage, they ended up moving into a real house and adopting Takao (more on that here: https://lickstynine.tumblr.com/post/164083978393/whats-the-story-behind-kazu-and-minato-adopting). Their sixth anniversary was April 22nd of this year.

So yeah, that’s the story of Kazu. Hope you enjoyed!

[chellyfishing]

telling a violent story vs using violence as a story

i really want to write this essay but as usual i don’t have the spoons for doing it justice so it’s pretty much just extemporaneous word dumping. anyway.

every story has a different tone about where they draw the line with violence and death. you can probably think of a lot of examples of both ends of the scale. there’s a misconception that being higher up on the violence/death end of the scale is more adult and more realistic, which ps is bullshit thanks bye. if anything it’s a sign of immaturity but that’s sort of beside the point atm.

the point i wanna make is this: it’s not a secret that i have strong feelings about killing off major or otherwise sympathetic characters. i have an opinion about this that differs from the majority in that i don’t like a character dying in order to motivate another character. it’s tacky. it’s cheap. it’s boring. it’s overdone. and a character can motivate another character while like. still being alive? weird right? live characters always present more options than dead ones. (obviously discussions of character death but also #rape mention ahead.)

to me character death should be a result rather than strictly a catalyst. think about ASoIaF, which is much more violent and upsetting than my typical tastes lean but credit where it’s due, GRRM knows how to do character death. when you know they’re coming, it becomes incredibly obvious. choices, circumstances, motivations all come together to create this unavoidable moment. nothing exists in a vacuum. in ASoIaF, death is a result and a catalyst, but not purely for character motivation; rather, it changes the game itself, leading to a domino effect. ned’s death at the end of AGoT is unavoidable, and it turns things on their heads (heheh) for everybody. the red wedding is built up to for a long time, and obviously that goes on to have huge repercussions. so, counterintuitively, one of the most violent stories in the zeitgeist right now is, for the most part (not a perfect record) is telling a violent story without necessarily using violence as a substitute for a story.

contrast with GoT, which throws in rape and gore like glitter to accent their teenage/twenty-something boy hypermasculine wank power fantasy. GoT is at the other end and it’s super gross and disturbing.

one of the best-known and most prolific offenders of “death because death” is joss whedon. it seems to be the only way he knows how to create shocking “plot twists” and heavy emotional drama. and the worst of the worst sins was tara macclay on buffy. the thing about joss is that he thinks he’s being incredibly clever surprising his audience with this stuff. he’s said as much himself. there is no effort to build up to it. it’s just, well, nobody’s died for a little while so idk find something to impale someone on. tara’s death was everything death in fiction should not be. first of all she was a lesbian, and one in a happy relationship to boot. need say no more. second of all she was literally caught in the crossfire. the bullet that killed her was meant for someone else and it just happened to strike her down instead with no effort or chance to save her. third, it had to happen so willow could be evil for a bit. and fourth, most obnoxiously, that episode was the first and only time amber benson appeared in the opening credits. this was done deliberately. i wish i could find the quote but alas. to the best of my recollection joss said they wanted to do something like this with another character, possibly jenny calendar, but were unable. it was fully planned well ahead of time to “trick” the audience, which is kind of... sad? that you feel the need to resort to a meta trick like that to maximize shock value? (oh, and don’t even fucking start me on dr. horrible’s and penny. ffs, joss. that didn’t even fit the fucking tone. fuck.)

there are more examples (i am looking directly at you, the 100) but i think those two pretty much put the cap on that point.

death in a story can be important and moving without making the audience feel cheated. HIMYM is largely a light-hearted romantic comedy, but it’s also one about transitioning to adulthood and what that means. and unfortunately, adulthood often means unexpectedly losing loved ones. the death of marshall’s father was surprising, but less than to motivate marshall in some way, it’s more to clarify that adulthood means loss as much as it means gain. it means change more than anything. also story-wise it was a good choice of character, as marvin had deep important connections to a character we loved without leaving a gaping void full of what might have been.

wynonna earp is another story that knows where to draw the line. most of the “victims” are cartoon villains who are inhuman and already dead. the framing of the story leaves us no reason to have sympathy for these literal monsters. when a more sympathetic or humanized character has to go, it’s because there’s no other choice, and each time rather than being a motivator for wynonna, we can see instead the psychological toll it takes on her. she is someone who is surrounded by death, the one with this burden to make the hard decisions and pull the trigger. she killed her father on accident when she was just 11. she’s forced to kill beloved shorty, who is pretty much family and one of the few people who didn’t think she was trash, in order to save him and potentially a lot more. levi and fish were mercy kills that forced her to confront the fact that these monsters truly were once human. and in the finale she gets a double whammy: willa’s betrayal leaves her once again turning her gun on a family member and fatally pulling the trigger. we’re even relieved to see her shoot bobo, not just because she has to if she ever wants to break the curse but because again there’s another dimension to it, maybe even a tinge of mercy. bobo is not exactly sympathetic, but he is someone with dimension, someone we know. willa pretty much had to go story-wise, if nothing else she was a threat to wynonna’s position as the heir and the show is called wynonna earp. but her death also tied into the themes of the show: how to make and live with hard choices, how to stand up and be the one to do the unthinkable because you’re the only one and you have to, whether you want to or not, how to be the one who bears the hate of the very people you’re sacrificing everything to save.

and of course, i can’t not address harry potter, which i think is hit or miss. surprisingly i think cedric’s death was well-done and important, because it was shocking without being done for shock value, and because it was a result: a result of cedric being honorable and good and at the wrong end of the wand of a man who feels nothing about killing anything not useful to him. and ironically, it should have been a catalyst, but it wasn’t, but that’s its own story: the warning everyone failed to listen to, at their own peril. some deaths were organic in that jkr herself went against her plans once she realized what made more sense for the story. iirc, she’s on record as saying arthur weasley was originally meant to die when he’s attacked in ootp, but she spared him at the last minute. he didn’t need to die, it wouldn’t have added to the story, and killing arthur weasley is like joss whedon-level bullshit. on the other hand, she initially intended to let snape live (again iirc) but here she backed herself in a corner. snape was another result. it became obvious that according to the story there simply wasn’t a feasible way to save him, even if in context his death was for nothing. and of course la pièce de résistance, dumbledore, who is GRRM levels of inevitable and necessary.

i feel different ways about other deaths. they mostly happened for the sake of happening, to remind us it’s a war and people die in wars and she wanted faces and names we knew. that’s fair, as it goes. and i don’t begrudge the fact that she didn’t stop to dwell over some of them, because again, war, chaos, you don’t have time to grieve as it happens. but like. fred? i feel a little cheated. lupin and tonks? especially transparent and... unfulfilling. it was like bringing them together was done only to produce teddy, and then they became more useful dead first so harry would be more important to teddy and also because lupin needed to be there with harry in the woods alongside the rest of the marauders. i think of all the deaths these ones are the ones that bother me the most. just... really... meaningless.

also, the movie feeling the need to go a step further and giving us a nice close-up of lavendar brown’s very dead face because... aesthetic? it’s more ambiguous in the book, and even pottermore can’t seem to decide which way to go. it’s so irrelevant that people can’t agree it even happened.

death isn’t the only kind of violence in fiction or necessarily even the worst, but it is the one that’s always on hand like a tissue to grab as you need and the one that is abused by unimaginative writers who just... can’t think of how else to move the story forward. i do think there is a place for stories that involve rape, because it’s real and just like any other group survivors need to see themselves acknowledged as being real and more than their trauma. i don’t really feel too comfortable speaking for survivors here tbh but i do know that all of us need stories to keep us from feeling isolated and unworthy. but i cringe at the idea that it’s just something that happens to women and therefore let’s add it here, here, here, and here. using it as a turning point for the survivor like assault is enlightening and transformative is gross. using it as a turning point for someone else, usually a man, is A WHOLE LOT GROSSER.

also i just realized i didn’t get into tarantino, but i’m too tired for the kind of analysis his work requires. anyway one of the things i liked about kill bill, for example, is that the violence is so over-the-top that in places it’s comical. the whole film is just so extra. afaik that’s what tarantino was going for.

quick shout-out to snk: my favorite comedy. when this first came out it was hailed as The Best Thing Of The Year, it was SO GOOD, so quality. anyway so i finally got around to watching it. i watched it twice in relative succession in fact. and i laughed a lot. you can ask @second-stringer, she was like “oh my god, i’m in a room with a sociopath.” snk is so extra, but i... don’t think that’s what it was going for. i think it was going for shock! and drama! and plot twists! and look at all that blood and gore and dead people! this is obviously Very Mature! i feel so cool and grown-up watching it! and (sorry, not to get passive aggressive at my mutuals who were into it at any point, this is honestly about conversations i had with or read between people not on tumblr/in other contexts) the general trend was the raves were coming from the younger and frequently male audience. like it was the usual kind of thing where you couldn’t be like, are you... serious? didn’t you find it kind of... ridiculous? because you would be mobbed by rabid fanboys eager to mansplain that i don’t know i stopped listening. anyway, the steep decline in worship for the series over time leaves me feeling smug and satisfied. i actually might still watch it out of morbid curiosity and in the hopes that it’s as funny or, prayer circle, even funnier.

in conclusion, bobby has an email from me that includes a lot of yelling, “DON’T KILL THE LESBIAN. DON’T FUCKING DO IT.” this is my contribution to the cause.

[creativeashproductions]

Whiskey Lullaby // Marvel

Summary: You’ve been honourably discharged from the army and on the way home you remember parts of your life leading to this point. Some bad and some good, but what’s waiting for you off the bus home?

Characters: Reader, Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes

Words: 3262

Disclaimer: I do not own marvel or the characters. I also do not own any gifs, images or the song “Whiskey Lullaby” by Brad Paisley and Alison Krauss. Lyrics have been tweaked a little and those are in brackets.

Warnings: Angst (obvious for me now), swearing, alcohol consumption, the smallest amount of fluff and death.

Author: Caitsy

Tagging: At the end. Ask us know if you want to added or removed from any tagging!

Masterlist

Prompt List

The road was long and you hadn’t been bothered to change out of your dusty combat uniform. How could you? When your fingers went to unzip the jacket you flinched hearing the sound of bullets and screams of agony. You didn’t feel safe with it off but you knew at some point you would have to take it off. It was hard to shift from combat to civilian life.

Other than your gear you just had a picture from three summers ago. The picture of you and your boyfriend at the time, to be fair it was your fiancé. You didn’t know why you kept it.

You were giggling as Steve spun you around not even a second after the ring was pushed onto your finger. It was something he had held on to for the last year never knowing if he should ask you; given the job you had. You were beginning shipped out two days from now and he was hesitant because what if he lost you? It wasn’t until a sweet old man had watched as he was playing with the box and gave him some advice.

“I can’t wait to make you my wife.” Steve grinned pressing a kiss to your cheek, “I love you so much.”

“I love you so much.” You replied peppering your future husband’s face with kisses.

“You come home.” Steve stated as he placed your feet back on the ground. He placed his hands on either side of your face.

“We’ll start out family.” You replied pressing a deep kiss as your dress flowed in the breeze. You had only just returned from church with your families.

“I can’t wait.” Steve mumbled before he passionately kissed you.

You’re mind was pulled from the past when the driver called out your towns name, it took a couple times before you gathered your wits.

“You’re home now sweetheart.” The bus driver kindly said, “Now you go start your life.”

“Thanks.” You smiled as you gripped your gear. You stepped out looking over the small house your parents had fixed up for Steve and you.

It was a small farmhouse with a good size yard, your parents house was in seeing distance but also there’s was privacy. It was painted a light blue colour with white window frames and a maroon door. It was meant for a family, the family you would have had with Steve, but now it was you.

The boards creaked as you kicked the rock to reveal the house key, you had hid it so you wouldn’t lose it in combat. The door opened revealing a nicely furnished home with the sun starting to creep into the windows. Dropping your bag with a thump you closed the door but when it slammed all you could hear was the gunshot that rendered you injured.

It didn’t feel like home walking in like it had the last time you physically saw Steve.

It was the first time you had been back since last summer and damn you were glad because you had a wedding in just a week. You were on leave before you returned for your last tour. The small apartment was on the second floor so it was common for Steve to have his friend Sam Wilson over. You could hear giggling that certainly didn’t fit Sam.

The bedroom door wasn’t fully shut but you could hear Steve chuckling. What you didn’t expect was to see him with a woman. They were in bed curled up with her drawing patterns on his chest, where you had always drawn. You dropped your gear all the while you let out a sob.

“Y/N!” Steve exclaimed throwing himself onto the ground covered only by boxers, “Sweetheart!”

“Yo-you…we were getting better in a week!” You screamed grabbing your gear, “I thought…I thought you we-were be-tter.”

“No! Baby, this is-“

“Oh shut and stick your dig back down her throat.” You cussed turning to leave. You hesitated before yanking the ring on a chain around you neck where it rested by a simply heart. Given to you by Steve, “Might as well shove this up your ass!”

The ring was flung at Steve hitting him perfectly on the cheek. You ran but could hear him running too.

She put him out like the burnin' end of a midnight cigarette She broke his heart, he spent his whole life tryin' to forget We watched him drink his pain away a little at a time But he never could get drunk enough to get her off his mind Until the night

He was screaming as you jumped into your car that sat in the lot beside his motorcycle and yanked the keys from the visor and starting it up. You peeled out of the parking lot with a screaming Steve racing after you with no shoes on his feet.

“NO!” Steve screamed. You shook your head remembering the letter you received from your sister begging you to reconsider. He had been drinking a lot, hell they said they saw him trying to drink the memories and guilt away.

                                         ~~~~~~~~~

Steve had heard she had returned to combat not even two months after you threw your engagement right at him. He was practically chugging straight vodka at this point but he couldn’t escape the memories no matter how drunk he got.

“Come Steve.” Sam shaking his shoulder.

“D-Did you know sh-e was gonna we-ar my mother’s ch-arm bracelet?” Steve slurred, “Said i-it went w-ell with h-er mother’s dress.”

“I know man.” Sam clapped his hand on Steve’s shoulder, “You tell me every night.”

“I l-ove her.” Steve hiccuped, “I miss her.”

“I know but I don’t think she’ll give you a chance.” Sam said sitting next to him, “You cheated with Peggy Carter. Dude, you fucked up the moment you accepted that beer.”

He put that bottle to his head and pulled the trigger and finally drank away her memory. Life is short, but this is was bigger Than the strength he had to get up of his knees

He continued pouring the alcohol into his system in their-his apartment when the bartender cut him off. His face planted on the bed and bed pushing his hand under the pillow where an image of her was. Y/N was gorgeous and all he could remember was the betrayal and suffering her expression held. The last thing he saw was her face before he passed out on the bed with a worried Sam in the kitchen getting water.

We found him with his face down in the pillow With a note that said I’ll love her till I die. And when we [almost] buried him beneath the willow The angels sang a whiskey lullaby

The ambulance took Steve Rogers to the hospital and a undetermined future. Nobody knew if he would die. Sam had found him face down on his pillow with vomit oozing out the side of his mouth and a picture in his hand.

                                                ~~~~~~~~~

Steve leaned against the small high school outside feeling his heavy heart weighing him down. He had heard she was back in town and god he wished they both had a ring on their finger signifying their love, before he fucked up. He wished for a drink of something but he had been on the cusp of an alcoholic before Sam saved him.

He owed Sam his life for getting to him before he died from his own vomit and he had taken the job of driving Steve to his meetings. He had been caught driving drunk for the second time before his license was revoked until further notice.

It was part of the deal and so Sam could keep on eye on his friend given how utterly broke the man was. Steve was so hurt that it was like he not only cheated on Y/N but also himself. They didn’t have a future that he could have had if he not been tempted by Peggy.

Peggy was a woman that could get under anyone’s skin with a couple right words to a drunk man. He had believed every word she said to him when she told him in was normal for soldiers to conveniently forget about their life back home; they were only human that need intimacy.

He didn’t what he deserved to feel with the love his life back but not in his arms, he had heard her parents in church last night. She had come home in the early morning but wouldn’t come to church.

                                                    ~~~~~~~~~

The rumours flew but nobody knew how much she blamed herself For years and years she tried to hide the whiskey on her breath

You didn’t go to church, you hid out in your room with a bottle of whiskey enclosed in your grip. Whiskey became water to you so you could get through the agony of losing Steve and the memories of combat. If you were drunk the flashbacks stayed away and panic didn’t come upon you.

You heard the rumours the moment you didn’t go to church the first week, that women lost husband from not being there. They would stray when you weren’t there to share love. The others were about Steve and how he had made you run back to war. That he had lost you because that woman, Peggy, had become pregnant.

Yet you heard the woman had a hysterectomy to ensure no chance of children along with a lesser chance of cancer. You didn’t blame either of them when you should. You blamed yourself on Steve cheating, had you stayed this wouldn’t have happened. If you hadn’t had the need to fight in the war you would be happily married with children.

You drove Steve to run into the arms of Peggy and you couldn’t blame them. Peggy Carter had been new to the town and quite a bombshell. Steve was a very handsome man with obvious needs that you couldn’t fill with your appearance.

You chugged another bit of the whiskey loving the burn as it went down your throat. There wasn’t much left in the bottle so you jumped in the car heading to the bar. You were getting drunk as hell and you didn’t care if you passed out behind the bar. You just wanted to forget.

                                                   ~~~~~~~~~

She finally drank her pain away a little a time But she never could get drunk enough to get him off her mind Until the night.

The bar wasn’t overly crowded on the Friday night, it was the town picnic so it was understandable. Your family had called many time to get you to come but you knew he would be there. You couldn’t do it especially when the fireworks would begin and you didn’t want to have a episode in front of everyone.

You were sipping the whiskey not paying attention until you felt the vibration of the counter, beside you was a man. He was very handsome, dare you say even more than your ex? He had these beautiful blue eyes and thick short dark hair. He grabbed the glass from the bartender, Clint, before turning to see you.

“New in town?” The man asked.

“No.” You mumbled turning your attention from his eyes to amber liquid, “Live here my entire life.”

“I’m new.” He said, “James Barnes. Call my Bucky, what’s your name doll?”

“Y/N Y/L/N.” You replied coyly feeling a spark you hadn’t felt in ages.

“Can I buy you another?”

                                           ~~~~~~~~~

She put that bottle to her head and pulled the trigger And finally drank away his memory Life short but this time it was bigger Than the strength she had to get up off her knees

You went to take a gulp of the whiskey when Bucky came into the house crossing his arms. You was extremely drunk and wavering on your feet. He cared for you by dumping the alcohol and helping you get some food and water inside you before he crawled into bed with you for the first time in your relationship.

Bucky was there when you had your face on the toilet seat feeling the worst you ever had been the next morning. He held a damp cloth to your forehead as he carried you to the couch downstairs. He made you the hangover cure he used for himself but you were entirely sober until the following day.

“I think you need help.” Bucky calmly said, “You need to get closure from Steve and goto a professional.”

“That’s the thing Bucky. I’m not an alcoholic.” You argued, “I swear I’m not!”

“I know but you’re toeing the line. I know combat left its mark on you just as it did with me but you’re a strong woman. You have PTSD and you need therapy.”

“I know.” You whimpered falling into his arms.

“If you continue you’ll put that bottle to your head and pull the trigger. I don’t want you to leave me.” Bucky muttered pressing a kiss to your hairline.

She wasn’t strong enough to get her self up from her knees but she had Bucky and he made the pain easier. They had been together a short time but she already could see he was going to change her life for the better.

                                             ~~~~~~~~~

Steve nervously walked around this years picnic trying to avoid Y/N’s family because they reminded him of her. He had heard she was getting treatment for her PTSD and he learnt she was home for good. That made him want to run and ask for another chance because they could be a family.

It had been a two years since you returned for good and he hadn’t seen you around town, hell he hadn’t see his co-worker Bucky either. There was a rumour going around that Bucky had been seeing someone for the last two years but was very private. The last time he saw him Bucky had presented a lovely picture of him holding a baby.

“Hey Steve!” An excited Bucky exclaimed racing over to him. He had a picture in his hands, “This is my little girl! Winifred Josephine Barnes. We call her Winnie!”

“She’s breathtaking.” Steve breathed as he looked at the infant. The shape of her nose and lips were familiar but he couldn’t place it. Did most of them look the same for awhile?

“I know! I have to go show Nancy!” Bucky exclaimed racing off the mousey secretary in the office. Steve watched with a small smile as he thought you and your future children when he got your trust back.

“One day, Steve. One day.”

He noticed Bucky first as he talked with the science teacher, Bruce Banner, about the upcoming finals. Bucky was an art teacher the frequently would partner up his projects with other classes and Bruce was a large supporter. He could see a hand wrapped around Bucky before the hand let go. In the sea of people he couldn’t see who she was.

He looked to his right seeing your family and his breath stopped when he noticed you laughing with Raina. He gulped striding up to her.

You turned expecting Bucky but instead you saw Steve. You felt the nostalgia but that was it, whatever you had paled in comparison to what you had with your new family. You had drank the pain of the memories away with the love of Bucky whom you loved very much.

“Y/N Y/L/N.” Steve breathed staring at you, “Can I ap-“

“Doll?” Steve tensed up looking to see that Bucky was now beside Y/N. On Bucky’s hip was Winnie who was staring at Steve with big blue eyes.

“Hey Buck.” You grinned taking your daughter from his arms. The sun glinted off the matching rings you both had on your left hands.

Steve’s heart broke which made both Bucky and you frown as you watched emotions flit across his features. His hands started to shake and tears pooled in as he took in you with the family he had envisioned with you.

“Y-you’re married?” Steve heart-brokenly asked. The tears beginning to slide down his cheeks.

“Yeah.” You whispered pushing Winnie up higher on your hip. Looking down Steve noticed a small bump on your stomach.

“W-when?”

“We got married at the court house a couple days after we learned about Winnie, we couldn’t wait any longer.” Bucky grinned pulling both you and your daughter closer. You burrowed into your husband.

“Yo-our pregnant?” Steve whispered breaking down.

“It’s a boy!” Bucky dad and your dad exclaimed playfully poking at their wives.

“We don’t know!” You laughed subconsciously putting your hand on your bump, “We were waiting until little miss was two but that didn’t happen.”

“You know you can pee with that right?” Raina teased as she kissed Winnie on the cheek.

“Hey!” Bucky laughed, “I’m aware but I thinking creating children is more fun.”

“Can we have a minute?” Steve asked sniffling. You nodded your head as Bucky kissed your cheek and took Winnie.

You were out of everybody’s earshot when you and Steve finally stopped to look into the horizon. After all these years he finally was able to tell you how he felt and wanted to try again. Life has a funny way of working out for Steve Rogers. His parents tragically died and his infant sister died suddenly. He lost the love of his death and he wasn’t getting her back.

“Run away with me.” Steve stated.

“Excuse me?” You exclaimed, “In case you haven’t noticed I’m married with a child and another the way! I love Bucky!”

“I made a mistake! I was at a low when she came onto me!”
 “It still hurts Steve but not the way you want it to. Bucky helped me become me again, he helped me say no to the whiskey and yes to love again.” You smiled sadly, “We were good together but we weren’t made to be each other’s only.”

“We still could.” He whispered sobbing now.

“You’ll get over me soon.” You said, “Stay strong and love will come when you least expect it. I have to get back to my family. You pecked him on the cheek before you turned back to head to Bucky finally leaving your past behind.

                                                 ~~~~~~~~~

We found her with her face down in the pillow Clinging to [a] picture for dear life We [never] laid her next to him beneath the willow While the angels sang a whiskey lullaby

It was Winnie that found you in your bed face down holding onto Bucky and your wedding day with a white sundress and smiles on your faces. It was Winnie who called her younger brother, Jackson, to come. Together they hugged sobbing in the world where they’re parents were buried together. Bucky had died a couple months back leaving you to pass from a broken heart.

The following day, Steve was found in his own home dead from a broken heart. In his hands was the picture of the day he had proposed to you. His lips pressed against where you face was.

Steve was buried next to the willow tree where you two had decided to rest together forever, only he was buried alone. While you were dancing in heaven with your husband with the largest grin on your face. You forgot that Steve was now alone in the grave with no partner.

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[women-are-visual]

My Boyfriend’s Midlife Crisis

I haven’t posted in awhile. I’ve been going through a lot emotionally and I find it hard to write during those times.

A few months ago in April, Scott, my boyfriend of 20 years, began going out every night and coming home drunk at 12:30 or 1:00 in the morning.

I’m sitting at my computer desk when I hear his key in the door. The knob turns and the door runner slides across the floor. He’s laughing. “Paul and I met some firemen who made us do shots. I’m so drunk, I’m spinning,” he says. He moans and sits down on the Mission chair in his office and takes off his wingtips. He’s still dressed in his business clothing for his job as an IT consultant, a light blue button down shirt and olive wool pants. He’s 46 and has laugh lines on either side of his mouth and some grey hair mixed in with the black, but he’s still tall and slim, dark and handsome. We’ve known each other since we were teenagers, when he was a new waver with long bangs and I was a punk rocker with a bald head. He is the giant and I am the elf. He is the rock and I am the spark. But he’s not the rock anymore.

“I’m hungry. Do we have anything to eat?” he asks.

I tell him I made tacos for dinner and he says those sound good, so I go into the kitchen and begin cooking. I’m angry. I’ve spent another night alone, drinking beer and vodka, sitting on the back steps of our apartment building and smoking in the cool dark night. I looked at the giant redwood trees and the lights of the little houses on the hills in the distance. After I had gone through all of the alcohol in the house, I drove to 7-11 to get more. The cashier, an Arab boy in a red vest, said, “Did you run out?” and I laughed. I got a six pack of Lagunitas IPA, a Skor bar, and a pack of Marlboro Reds. I’m not supposed to smoke because I’ve had breakdowns and it seems to trigger them, but I’m a punk rock girl again, pissed off and rebelling against my boyfriend’s rules. I drove home and smoked and drank some more and rubbed myself with peppermint essential oil before Scott got home, to cover the smell, but he hasn’t noticed anything.

He sits down at the table and I serve him a plate of tacos, but I can’t control my anger.

“Here you go, fucker.”

He laughs and starts eating. “These are great,” he says. He doesn’t care about me or my temper anymore. Afterwards, he sits in his recliner and gets on his laptop and acts like I’m not even there.

“I was lonely tonight,” I tell him.

“That’s not my fault. You need to get a life. You’re a burden. I’m sick of dealing with your moods. You need a counselor and a social life. I don’t care what you do. Just let me go out and have fun. I’m having a midlife crisis and I can’t care for you anymore. I cared for you during your sister’s death and your breakdowns. You owe me.”

“You’re having an affair.”

“I couldn’t have an affair if I wanted to. No women like me,” he says.

This goes on for a month or two.

On a Friday night, we go to one of our favorite restaurants for dinner and drinks. We split a salad and a steak frites and I get a cocktail and Scott gets a cabernet. We normally have fun, talking and laughing, but that night he stares through me and acts bored.

“What are you thinking about? It’s another woman, isn’t it?”

“No, you know how it is when you socialize, how you think about every stupid thing you said afterward.”

“You wouldn’t think about your autistic friends that much.”

He gets up to use the bathroom and I ask him if I can look at photos on his phone, but he pretends not to hear me and takes it with him. My heart starts beating hard.

“You’re cheating on me,” I say when he gets back to the table.

“No, I’m not, I’m just bitching to my friends about you and I don’t want you to see it because it would hurt you. I need to be able to talk about my problems with my friends. You do it with your friends and you wouldn’t want me to see your conversations.”

We go home and I put on LED tea lights and we listen to new wave: The Cure, Siouxsie, The Fall, and Molly Nillson. I sit at my computer desk and play everything off of YouTube, which has videos, song suggestions on the right, and comments. We have the argument about YouTube vs. Spotify again.

“YouTube is so much better,” I say. “It’s interactive. Spotify is just the Beatles listening app.”

Normally Scott dances on the big rug in front of the couch, but tonight he is too tired and he just sits in his recliner and drinks with his blue blockers on.

“Put on Stacks by Bon Iver,” he says.

“Okay,” I say. We listen to two lines, but it’s depressing and has a bad rhythm.

“This sucks, let’s listen to something else,” I say.

“Don’t say it sucks. Say you don’t like it, but don’t say it sucks and imply that I suck for liking it.”

“What are you talking about? Since when do I have to talk to you that way? We’re two monsters in a cave.”

“I’m breaking down; I can’t take it anymore.”

And another night of arguing begins.

The next day, after working on a website, I look up articles on the signs of someone cheating or having a midlife crisis. He has all of the signs of both. I email my friends and tell them what’s going on. I have very few friends, but the ones I do have tell me that I need to start working out and get hot. I need to feed him more and schedule a vacation so he can get some time away to write his sci-fi novel. I need to wear wigs and lingerie.

I shower and get dressed. I look in the mirror and see a chubby middle aged woman with short curly hair, but I still see the punk rock girl in me too, and I don’t think I look that bad. I have a nice body with big breasts, even if I am a little fat. It’s not about how I look. I have guts and my friends don’t get it. If Scott doesn’t want me, I’ll find someone else. My friend with Asperger’s, Cheryl, says the nicest thing.

“If you broke up, you would do better than him. He might have the money and the clothes, but he doesn’t have the joie de vivre that you do.” We smoke cigarettes and have a dance party in her studio, listening to the Ramones on our phones, and I feel better.

I’ve cheated too. I’ve made out with random guys and it was always mediocre. Most guys smell and they can’t kiss, they can’t hold a decent conversation or show interest in me or give me a compliment. I never get involved emotionally, I’m always grateful for Scott when I come home, so I can’t understand the way he’s treating me.

“I said you could have an affair if you wanted to, as long as you didn’t tell me about it,” I tell him. “But you’re supposed to feel guilty about it and be extra nice to me!”

Another month passes, then Scott leaves his computer on while he goes out to lunch with a friend. I see that his email is up and my heart starts beating hard, I can hear it pounding in my ears, and my face feels hot. I pull the shades and sit at his desk and find the tab with his Facebook messages on it. I read several conversations with his friends. The affair has been over for two months by that time. It was with some girl in her thirties and it was awful. I email my brother her picture and he says, “She looks like a bulldog.”

I call Scott while he’s still out. “I know about your affair,” I say.

“Wait there, I’ll be home in a minute,” he says, but I leave and go to Shepherd’s Canyon and sit in the sun and smoke. I don’t come home until that night, when he’s gone and staying at a friend’s. Another night of heavy drinking. I puke, then I drink some more and puke again. I sit on the kitchen floor and smoke a pack of cigarettes out the window. I worry about having another breakdown. I don’t want to talk to him, but I end up texting him late at night.

“Hey, you fucking piece of shit robot dick.”

“You owe me forgiveness,” he texts. “Love is about forgiveness. You ignored me for months at a time during your breakdowns and I stayed with you and cared for you. You cheated on me too with that guy in Germany.”

I know he’s right, but I can’t let it go. I’m beside myself, but I have been for the past few months anyway. I weave through the apartment that I normally so carefully clean and decorate, but it doesn’t feel like my home anymore. Nothing is the same because nobody loves me and there’s no one to share it with. My heart feels like there’s a fist squeezing it and I’m nauseous.

I call him the next day and we meet at a bar in uptown Oakland. He tells me about the affair and how shitty it was and eventually I tell him about my affairs too. We consider polyamory, but we decide that we don’t want to get into a polyamorous nerd slapping contest, in which each of us tries to outdo each other with hotter partners. We know nerd couples in Scott’s rationalist scene who do that.

“We’ve been together for 20 years,” he says. “Nothing’s going to break our relationship. I don’t have the history with anyone else.”

“I’m not going anywhere either,” I say. “You’re my favorite person.”

We get drunk. I ask him questions about the affair and he tells me everything. I find myself comforting him, trying to boost him after all. We talk and laugh and compliment each other and reminisce about our past friends in Buffalo and listen to the Violent Femmes and have great sex.

The funny thing is that, in the end, this affair actually helped our relationship. I find myself more attracted to my boyfriend than ever. I like to think of him as an evil stud. Our sex life has gotten better and we’ve decided to be more honest and less controlling with each other.

“My friends were warning me that this affair might end our relationship,” Scott says, tisking and laughing. “They don’t understand what 20 years means.”

“We’ve been through death and madness,” I say. “An affair is nothing.”

October 16, 2017