#not me ranting about my sucky life

[unma]

Uh, mentions of suicide (not attempted, but considered) and suicidal ideation under the cut I guess. And lots of talk about my depression. And a bit of oversharing. Did I say this blog wasn't for venting? Well, I'm unpacking these things as I write them so please be kind with me, okay?

Still thinking about my memory and how it's gone from me being proud of remembering the most specific stuff to barely being able to remember anything past a certain point save for really specific mostly intensely painful (usually mental) periods of my life.

I don't think it's memory issues (or at least the kind where I'm simply incapable of actually recalling things or putting moments into long term memory). I just think that there isn't much for me to remember in my day to day life outside of the internet.

I spend most of my time moping around, looking forward to the day where I'll be free of everything that has plagued me. The optimism younger me had about leaving this life behind and becoming a new me is gone, replaced with a me that has accepted the reality that it would be a long struggle to get to that day that I'm happy. I already had to pull myself out of the pit that was wanting to actively end it all, and now I wallow in despair wondering if it'll happen anyway.

it was only weeks ago (or perhaps months? Time has begun to blur for me since forever ago) that I found out I had friends who were glad I wasn't dead. IRL friends, in specific, as I wasn't too open about my struggles online, for obvious reasons. I mean, I was also gone from this blog for a year or 2 due to related matters, so obviously no one online would know about any of this since I wasn't here.

Back on track, I had a classmate of mine call to see if I was still okay and doing fine. I wouldn't call him that close of a friend—he's the type of person who's an asshole on purpose but friendly enough, so you can tell when he's taking a piss and when he's being genuine, but he doesn't pull it off nearly as well as a much closer friend of mine—but he was one of the few I'd let know that I wanted to die. Even though I'd made it clear ages ago that I wouldn't ever pick up a knife, he was still glad to know I was okay. And upon mentioning that to others who knew about my woes, they all responded that they too were glad that I was doing okay. It felt nice to be cared for.

So it's a shame that the only way I can talk to any of these people is online.

There isn't much for me to look forward to offline. My family's awful, as you can probably tell from today's posts, I hate most of the people I know in church (not to mention that being agnostic and having a horrid experience with the church growing up makes that place a living hell to be in) and there's nowhere for me to go outside. Not to mention it's way too hot. No really, I tried to go for a walk outside today and didn't even make it an intersection before the sun made me turn back. And I'm the one who used to wear hoodies in the blaring sun before I moved. It's way too hot here in the summer.

Every time I try to improve something about myself, be it my posture or not spending all my time in my room, I'm reminded ever so swiftly of why I'm like this now. At some point I resolved to sit in the living room often, but every evening my dad would come home and yell about something that had gone wrong, and because I was the only one nearby I'd be the only one subject to that yelling. And then I remember the reason I never left my room was because child me realized that greeting my mom when she came home from work was never worth it because she would 100% send us to do chores. And she wondered why no one ever greeted her when she came home anymore.

There's a lot of things the internet has done to me that would make me wish I got on here when I was older. But it pales in comparison to how much good it's done for my life. How much it's shaped me into a much better.

And the fact that I'm still alive, I guess.

I think often about how my dad once told me he knew me better than I knew myself. Back then I thought "Do you know your son doesn't want to live anymore?" I still wonder if he'll ever find out. If he'll ever realize that the pressure he and my mom placed on me to get better academically, even as I was one of the best performing students and simultaneously already struggling to keep up with the stress from maintaining those scores. I wonder if they'll ever understand that the hate I feel for them is not childish rage at not getting my way—not a rage that will fade as I grow older and wiser in life—but a deep hatred that will never fade until I'm free of them forever.

I wonder if they'll ever realize that they were horrible parents. Even now they're constantly blindsided by the effects of their own bad parenting. Effects that I, the oldest child, continued to point out to them when they first showed up. Things that I very clearly told them needed to be corrected.

Perhaps the fact that I had to point out that they were failing at being proper parents to my younger sister constantly as I grew up is just another sign of my shitty upbringing. One in which I was forced to learn to be mature at a young age. To be the smart one. Above breaking the rules, above being playful and immature. Perhaps it's no wonder in the end that I simply stopped caring, when fun was something I continually had to fight for, and stress was simply the norm. Even now, as I think back on my past, most of what I remember was the time and effort I spent. How proud I was to pull an all-nighter to finish handwriting my Business Studies notes, as if my rides to school were not already spent frantically catching up on my CRS notes.

My school-assigned advisor once told me that I had to deprioritize writing to spend more time focusing on school-related work. I wonder what he'd think if he found out that writing was perhaps the main reason I decided there was still a point to life. I wonder what my mom would think when she agreed with him.

Oh well, it's not like there's a point in dwelling on that.

Point is, well, there really isn't much for me to look forward to or do, other than eat and sleep. Not to mention that most of the things I can do suck or actively make my mental health worse, which is fun.

As for the point of explaining that? Well, I think the reason I can't remember anything is because there isn't anything to remember, or at least anything good. What's the point of actually remembering things if all there is to remember is enraging conversations and anxious waits for things I dread? Perhaps the reason I don't remember much about my life is simply because I stopped having things to be happy about. Outside of the internet, anyway.

If I have any consolation, it's that I can still vividly remember a lot of my time online, where I had fun and made friends and learned to be myself. And when I put it like that, it feels pointless that I've even slightly worried that I spend too much time online, when there's no reason for me to reduce my time online.

That's all my pondering for now, I guess. Really long post, yeah, but today's event made me think about... a lot of things, I guess.

[caterpillarinacave]

i may be the most content starved person in some of my fandoms

[moomstersnuffer]

Yeah, I like him but I’m telling myself that I like him as a friend so no, I only like him as a friend please believe me because I’m trying to believe myself and it would make things a whole lot easier if someone believed my pathetic lie as well. Thanks.

[ironhusband]

.....Eventually. 

I think the best part of winning as team Ben is never having to deal with team Paxton’s gross ass antisemitic behaviour ever again.

[rubydubydoo122]

I saw the invite to rant about "GirlDad" Bruce and instantly ran here. *shuffles notes*

Okay so one thing that i noticed about fandom girldad Bruce is that he doesn't actually have to do much with Cass. He doesn't have to put in the work to be understood by her since she just "gets" him because of how she understands body language. She's "easier" to be around because he doesn't have to actually talk in a way that his other kids understand. He doesn't have to put in the work to understand and put a voice to his own feelings and emotions in a way that won't hurt who he's talking to.

To me that really feels like an eldest daughter doing all the emotional labor for her father and it infuriates me, maybe because it hits a little close to home. It feels like a cop out on Bruce having to put in work to be a good parent, because sometimes being a good parent is a struggle and you have to learn how to be one. Letting your kid do most of the work in communicating so that you have a good relationship is sucky imo.

Bruce being a girldad is fun and honestly very cute a lot of the times but some aspects/ways that people write it dont sit well with me sometimes.

Ok rant over thanks for listening:)

I always love listening to people rant about the Batfam.

And yes, just because Cass is Bruce's favorite daughter doesn't automatically make Bruce a "Girldad".

(I'm about to slightly trauma dump here) I'm a victim of the "Daddy's Girl" to "Daddy issues" pipeline.

When I was growing up, I was always seeking his validation-- because being the youngest daughter, I was spoiled by my dad until I reached puberty and he basically stopped loving/respecting me-- so by the time I was 10/11, the only way I could earn that validation from my Dad, was by listening to him tell me about his life (aka, he trauma dumped on me, even though I now know that he shouldn't have been forcing those issues on me) And that in itself

In most fanfics, bc Cass is the bat who can read people, she becomes the family therapist, especially towards Bruce, which isn't a healthy father-daughter relationship. So Bruce being a "Girldad" is only beneficial for Bruce, and not Cass.

Yeah, I completely understand what you mean anon. Basically what most Fanon does is make Cass a "Daddy's Girl" but fails to make Bruce a "Girldad" and that's probably why it rubs you in the wrong way bc it's one sided.

[messrsbyler]

here comes a rant about billy so if that's not your cup of tea keep scrolling...

it's crazy to me that a piece of shit like billy hargrove is more liked than jonathan.

if you are one of billy's fans, i don't mean this in a sarcastic or jokingly way, you seriously disgust me. people be out there saying they love max but they also love billy. they love lucas but they also love billy. get. a. fucking. grip.

i'm all about letting people enjoy what they enjoy, but when you idolize a fictional character that's an abuser and a racist, that's just not it. and it's not about "oh i like morally gray characters", because billy's fans don't even acknowledge he is a bad person.

all it took was a five minute scene showing his tragic past and you were okay with everything he did? you know who also had a sucky past? el. and still, she remains a good person. also jonathan byers, with his abusive father and emotionally dependent mother, growing up as his little brother's father figure. both these characters decided to break the cycle of abuse.

having a traumatic past doesn't make you entitled to being an abuser. being a white dude in the 80's doesn't make it okay to being racist. i mean, billy literally threatened max with killing three of her new friends by running them over. he was about to fight and commit a hate crime on a black kid. it was hinted that he physically abused max by the way he grabbed her in the car and how scared max looked. max hated him so much she wished he would die. and yet some people in this fandom love him and have him as their favorite character? tell me you didn't understand shit about the show's theme without telling me you didn't understand shit about the show's theme.

all billy has going for himself is his basic white boy looks and y'all are quick to forgive him and pretend he had his redemption in s3 lmao. him giving his life wasn't a fucking redemption. it doesn't work like that. billy fans really turn a blind eye to everything he did but then go against characters like jonathan for taking those pictures in season one, even when he apologised for it and then showed us he regretted it through actions.

so, yeah. to any billy fans, you really disgust me. i'm sure you don't care about my opinion and that none of this will make it through your thick delusional skull, but if you are the type of people to excuse racism and abuse in fiction, you are only a step away of doing the same in real life.

anyhow. billy sucks.

needless to say, if you like billy in any amount unfollow me right now. i have no interest in having any type of interaction with you.

[julesthequirky]

Beautiful Trauma - A Soldier Boy Miniseries: Chapter 3

Beautiful Trauma

Pairings: F!Reader x Ben/Soldier Boy

Summary: The reader is the real widower of Ben/Soldier Boy and loved their life together before the incident. In 1983 she took Compound V, so she could be with Ben forever, but in 1984 her life crashes to the ground, and she’s stuck in a world without him. In 2022 a knock at the door changes her life, and when she’s told that Ben is alive she hopes that there can be a forever after all.

Chapter Warnings: Antiquated views, smut (fingering, male receiving oral), typical SB misogyny, language, SB lewdness, mentions of drug usage.

A/N: Reader has traditional gender values that are antiquated today. I am also aware of how sucky the smut is (or at least I think it is).

Chapter W/C: 3142

This work is unbeta’d so all mistakes are mine. If you like it, heart, and reblog it. All feedback is gold. Minors DNI.

Driving home, Ben passed your crashed car and snorted a laugh.

“Typical female driver, I bet.”

“That was me.” You fessed.

He gave you a quick look before returning his focus to the road.

“I didn’t know you could drive.”

“I had to adapt.”

“Adapt? I fucking hope you didn’t adapt too much. From what I’ve seen, broads today are way too liberated. They’re all fucking promiscuous, wearing scraps. Fucking sluts. Well, I say it’s their own fault if they get into trouble. That’ll put ‘em in their place and teach them to close their goddamn legs. These days they’re too busy scissoring each other and fucking bitching about shit that doesn’t concern them.” Ben ranted.

You kept quiet, hoping and praying he wouldn’t get too riled up. You’d learnt from past experiences that it was best to shut up and listen when he went off like that.

“But not my gal, eh,” He squeezed your thigh and smiled in your direction. “You’re still keepin’ it classy. Gonna show ‘em how it’s done, aren’t you.”

You sent a perplexed look his way. “You want me to—”

“I want you to fuckin show them how to be a woman. Lead by example. Set the trend or whatever.”

Oh.

“What the fuck. Music’s gone to shit.” Disgusted, he jabbed the button to change the station.

You hmmed, distracted by Ben’s hand on your thigh. Tingles raced to your core, and your cunt spasmed in response. Eyes cast down, you were transfixed. Everything about this man was attractive, and his hand was no exception. Heat flushed over you as moisture gathered between your legs.

“Woman, stop eyeing my hand unless you want my fingers knuckle deep in your cunt.”

At his lewdness, your cunt gave a devastating clench, and your toes curled in their sneakers. Your hands gripped the seat and squeezed. Hot and flushed, the heat continued to rise, as did his hand on your leg. Reaching the apex, he prized them apart. Deft fingers stroked at your clothed cunt.

“Ah, fuck. Ben.”

Your head fell back against the seat headrest. Your pussy throbbed for his touch, and warmth spread outward from your needy cunt.

“Fuck, I can drive one-handed.”

Ben slipped his hand into your leggings and panties. Your breath faltered when his large callous fingers touched your slick folds.

“Fucking soaked.”

His fingers dipped before retreating, teasing you. His game achieved a whimpering mess.

“Please, Ben.”

“Such a needy whore.”

The pad of his thumb struck your clit, and you jerked in your seat. You needed his fingers, and as if he’d read your mind, Ben slid into your heated channel. You welcomed the delicious stretch, feeling the pulse in your veins match the one in your core.

His fingers curled, pressing a particular patch of tissue and sending you careening over the edge.

“Oh God, oh fuck, Ben!” You gripped his shoulder, and your palm slapped the steamed window.

Your cunt spasmed around his fingers as he continued to finger fuck you through your orgasm.

“Missed this tight pussy.”

Your legs spread a little wider, allowing him more access, and he speared into you, knuckle deep.

The car veered a little on the road, but Ben righted it as an oncoming car blasted their horn at him.

“Yeah, you too, cunt!!” Ben yelled at the other driver, zooming past them.

Your husband continued his ministrations as he yelled, his thumb circling your clit. Shuddering, you bared down, wanting, needing another release.

“Patience.”

He slowed his strokes, punishing and tormenting you. Looking down and seeing the outline of his fist had you drenched.

“Please, Ben. I need—I need your fingers. I wanna cum.”

“Bet you want more than that. Bet you want my tongue lashing your pretty little clit.”

Images assaulted your mind as he stroked. Of Ben lifting your leg over his shoulder. Of his beard scruff scratching your sensitive inner thigh and of Ben’s head in between your legs, lapping at your pussy.

“Yes.” You gasped and spasmed around his fingers.

“I wanna stuff my cock in this tight cunt.”

Ben was the king of lewd, and your cunt clenched hard around his fingers as his crude words had their desired effect.

“Fuck my fingers.”

Desperate for release, you complied, and your hips ground down, seeking stimulation and getting pleasure in return. Ben curled his fingers, and your strokes became body shaking and pussy trembling. The all-too-familiar warmth in your belly building.

“Faster, woman.”

You pumped your hips quicker, cunt squeezing with Ben meeting your thrusts. Sweat glistened, and your pulse thundered in your ears as the heat continued to build, the coil tightening. Ben struck your clit with the heel of his hand, and the band snapped.

Your hand squeezed his bicep, and your other hand gripped the car handle. You gushed all over his hand, screaming his name.

“Fuck me, woman, forgot you could do that.” He withdrew his hand and sucked them clean, causing a fluttering in your pussy.

No vibrator had ever come to make you orgasm like that. Not even close. Nothing could replace Ben. He returned his hand to the steering wheel, and you sat soaked and sated for the rest of the drive home.

*

Once Ben stepped into the apartment, everything righted itself. And you could see the stack of dishes and the laundry pile you hadn’t done. Shame filled you that you hadn’t been completing your duties.

“Fuck, what a shithole.” Ben grunted and placed his shield down. When he pulled up outside, he couldn’t believe that you still lived here. But this was home. Full of memories of your life together.

He sighed, headed for the bedroom and stripped down. Maybe Ben would move you both out into more appealing accommodation. A house in the country. With tons of land. Your thought strayed to kids and to Heather. It wasn’t fair that she had missed out. Would it be a betrayal if you had more? Ben wouldn’t think so.

You followed him and, after changing, slipped into bed beside him. After decades of sleeping alone, you craved his warmth, scooting closer to him, and he pulled you against his chest. He was the big spoon, and he loved it.

He smoothed back your hair, petting it. His tender actions ignited a drowsiness you hadn’t felt in decades. Your hand sought his, and your fingers intertwined. He kissed your head, and you murmured a “Love you, Ben” to him.

Before succumbing to sleep, you heard his soft whisper in your ear. “Love you too, baby.”

*

“That’s it, girl. Fuck. Gonna blow my load.” Ben grunted as his hips jerked up.

You hoped so because you were on your way to passing out. You’d lost the stamina and durability for these sessions. Your eyes streamed, and spit dribbled out, as the head of his cock nudged the back of your throat again. But his fist in your hair spurred you on, and the pain in your scalp signalled you were on the right track.

Hollowing your cheeks, you sucked. Ben hissed in a breath, and you tasted the first salty drops of pre-cum on your tongue.

Your jaw ached, as did the muscles all over your body as they strained to relax. Your knees hurt as the cheap carpet did nothing in the way of padding. You gripped his hips, going nose-deep, and Ben’s body trembled.

“We’re back, hoss.” Butcher’s cockney accent called as the door opened.

Fuck. Ben’s tight fist in your hair forced you to stay, and Butcher’s heavy footsteps in your hallway instilled a sense of urgency into you, so you sucked harder. Finally, his hips stuttered, and he gave a guttural cry, and his warm jizz painted your throat. Mouth full, you had no other option but to swallow.

“Good girl.”

After sucking him clean, Ben pulled you off, and you collapsed back, gasping like a fish as Hughie and Butcher entered the living area. Hughie muttered a “shit” and avoided his gaze whilst Ben tucked himself away. Ben tilted his head at you, smiling like a charmer.

“Don’t mind her. She’s a real cock gobbler.”

Butcher eyed you. “You got a bit of uh,” he said, tapping one side of his chin, “Right there.”

Shit. Your finger swiped the bead of cum from the corner of your mouth, and your eyes darted to Ben. He made no sound, but his look confirmed nothing had changed. You licked the cum off your finger and swallowed the remaining drop.

“Love it when you choke on my cock. Now, go sort yourself out. We’ve got guests.” Ben said, tapping your cheek and standing.

“Christ.” Hughie whispered.

*

Cleaned up, you walked in to see Ben at the kitchen table, surrounded by clutter, with white powder on his nose and chin. Old habits die hard, you guessed. Seeing you, Ben dragged his hand down his face, wiping away the excess powder. Butcher’s white carrier bag had its contents spilt all over the table. Hughie and Butcher sat opposite him.

“What do you want, boys? Coffee, beer?”

“Tea, if you got it.”

“I’m fine, thanks.” Hughie said, avoiding eye contact.

“Nonsense. It’s what she’s here for. That and other things.” Ben winked at the boys. He slapped your ass as you walked by to get to the counter.

“We don’t have tea. We’ve got coffee, though, and there’s beer in the fridge.”

“Coffee, then, luv. Hughie?”

“Oh, no. I’m good, thanks though.”

You replaced the old filter with a new one in the pot and added fresh grounds.

“Won’t be long.” You informed them as you pulled mugs out of the cupboard.

Your hands hesitated on Ben’s mug. The NY Giants print had faded, and the cup had gotten incredibly dusty from years of unuse. But it was a slice of normality. Your normality. Holding his mug brought memories of all the mornings you had together as a family. A lump in your throat formed, and the sting of tears threatened to brim.

Cradling his mug, you carried it to the sink and lovingly washed the dust off. You rinsed it numerous times so his coffee wouldn’t taste like dish soap.

A hand tugged your shirt, and you pivoted with the dripping-wet mug in hand.

“Don’t get misty-eyed now, woman. I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere.”

“I know, but enduring forty years without you was hell. Every part of it.

Ben stood, tugging you, and he wrapped his arms around you. The fuzz of his beard scraped against your jaw, and his warm breath fanned across the shell of your ear as he whispered low, only for you to hear.

“I’ll make up for all those years you’ve missed. Gonna stuff you so full of my babies, you’ll be popping them out for months on end.”

“Ben!” You smacked his arm playfully.

He laughed and swatted your ass. You smiled and shook your head. Same old Ben. Thank God. Grabbing a tea towel, you dried his mug and placed it on the counter beside yours. The coffee finished brewing, so you poured Ben’s first. Black. Sugarless. Just how he liked it. You passed him the mug, giving him a kiss on his forehead.

“Hughie, you sure you don’t want anything. It won’t be a problem, honestly.”

“Uh, sure. Just a coffee, then. Milk and two sugars. Thanks.”

“Coming right up.”

You grabbed Hughie a mug and poured the coffee, adding the sugars and milk for everyone’s preferred taste.

“Now, you forgot to tell me how you liked it, but if you need anything, lemme know.”

“That’s fine, fanks.”

Hughie muttered thanks as you set his coffee before him, still unable to look you in the eye.

With your beverage, you joined them. Sipping your coffee in a state of contentment, you enjoyed the moment. Ben squeezed your thigh, and you sent him a dopey, loved-up smile.

“Do you mind giving us a few minutes? To talk shop.”

The contentment drained away.

“Is it because I’m a woman?”

Voices filled the kitchen, talking over each other, but it was Ben’s deadpan “yes” your ears attuned to.

“No offence. But you wouldn’t understand the perplexities of—”

“I understand the perplexities well, thank you very much.”

Ben sighed. “Woman, don’t argue with me.”

“Well, I know when I’m not wanted.” You sniffed, scraping your chair back. “And for your information, I intend on making Vought pay for what they did.”

“Not to be funny, luv, but now Soldier Boy’s back, you’re a wanted woman. They know who you are, and if you fink, they won’t go after you. You’re sadly mistaken.” Butcher stated.

Four decades had almost passed. Surely, he was wrong.

“Met these idiots at the lab. Almost got hit by fuckin laser eyes—” Ben started, jerking a thumb at Butcher.

“Wait, you guys are Supes!” You couldn’t hide your shock, and your anger flared. “After all the shit you gave me, but you decided to keep that to yourselves!” You stood, shaking in your rage.

“Slight miscommunication, luv. We ain’t Supes either. We took temp V, nasty stuff, but very effective for a limi’ed time.”

With one hand, Ben yanked you down to your seat. “Wives just pissed the V didn’t work for her. Still a touchy subject, apparently.”

The familiar ticking of a Geiger counter started. Hughie looked at it and then exchanged a glance with Butcher.

The anger within you strengthened, building in your chest. You huffed in breaths, fighting to contain yourself, pulse quickening, fists clenched. Heart and head pounding, blood rushing, and an intense heat flushed through your body.

“It was supposed to be our forever. I took it for you, Ben. For us. And Vought destroyed everything!”

With Ben by your side, bringing in the money, your life was supposed to be bliss, babies and bake sales. America’s Finest and his homemaker.

A golden glow emitted from your chest, and the counter spiked.

“Oh shit!”

Butcher grabbed Hughie, and they legged it for the door, shouting behind them at Ben to contain the nuke. The nuke?

“Ben?”

Your brows furrowed as you watched the glowing emanate from your chest. This wasn’t your power. It was Ben’s. So why was it happening to you?

“You gotta calm down.”

But you couldn’t. The anger hurt. And it needed to be released.

The glow in your chest brightened, and like last night, Ben’s instincts kicked in, and he pushed the table away, sending it careening into the wall, smashing it to pieces. He picked up his shield and pulled you into his embrace, crouching with you in his hold.

“Ben?”

“Don’t let go.”

The heat in your chest expanded until it could no longer contain itself. The light exploded, and the blast knocked you both off your feet. Buffeting against Ben, he held you as the cataclysmic eruption blasted out the walls and floors of the building. Your ears rang as shockwaves ran from your body. Falling, you scrambled to hold on to Ben, but he grabbed hold of you. As he hauled you up, his shield connected with your head and knocked you out cold. In his arms, Ben protected you as together you crashed through the floors of the crumbling apartment. He landed on his back, mushrooming a dirt cloud into the air. His shield protected you as the apartment collapsed.

*

You came around to Ben, tapping you lightly on the cheek and his voice calling your name. Opening your eyes, his worried expression being the first thing you saw.

“Baby, oh God. Scared me half to death.” He closed his eyes and mumbled something. Then, he cradled your face and kissed your forehead.

Around you, sirens blared, people cried, and the cacophony of New York sounds bled into one.

Your head pounded, and your mouth felt like it had swallowed cotton balls. Nausea swirled in your stomach like a nasty storm brewing.

“Ben, I don’t – I didn’t….”

He hushed you and kissed your lips. “It’s not your fault.”

He warned you not to look as he scooped you up, but you failed to heed his words. The building you’d lived in for over forty years and called home now had a gaping wound. Rubble and debris littered the sidewalk. Cars, broken and flaming, lay in the road as if a child had been playing. Smoke plumed into the sky, and a fire raged in the centre of the building. EMS were on the scene, fire trucks and people were gathered.

Oh, God. All those people. Dead. Your chest heaved. All those casualties. Caused by you.

“Close your damn eyes.”

“Ben. Those peop— I ki—” You gulped in breaths, unable to stop.

“Put your face against my shoulder.”

You did as he instructed, placing your hand over his chest. The fierce beat of his heart under your palm eased your panic. Your breaths slowed, but your mind raced with what you’d just done. How had it happened?

“Weren’t the V a dud?”

“It was. Though not entirely. I’m perpetually stuck at thirty,” you said, resting your cheek against his shoulder.

“Then what the fuck was that?”

“I don’t know. But it’s not the first strange thing to happen.”

His body tensed momentarily and then relaxed. “Go on.”

“When Payback barged in, Crimson sicked TNT and Mindstorm on me, but their powers failed.”

Ben paused and put you down. Looking around, he dragged you into a nearby alley, resting a hand on your shoulder. “What do you mean?”

You wrung your hands together. “Honestly, the night’s hazy. I was stoned outta my mind. Maybe they didn’t use their powers, and I thought they had?”

Ben hmmed, nodding and nudged his shield to your hand. “Hold this for a second.”

You eyed it, perplexed.

“Are you mad? That’s six hundred pounds!!”

“Just do it, woman.”

“Fine,” You snapped, yanking the shield from his hand. “But if I get hurt, I’m blaming you.”

Ben smirked. “You were saying?”

The shield gripped in your hand had a good weight, and the shock of this discovery had your eyes widening and gasping.

“Bash me with it.”

Your head jerked up at his request. “What, no!”

“Do it and put some force into it.”

You shook your head. “Ben, no. I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Not likely. Come on. Imagine I’m Cuntess.”

You smiled. “You’re too gorgeous.”

He rolled his eyes in impatience. “Woman.” He warned.

You pulled your arm back and shoved the shield into him with all your might. Ben sailed into the wall, crashing into an apartment and wrecked the place.

The six-hundred-pound shield dropped, barely missing your toe, and you jumped out of the way as it fell in your direction. The metal clanged, ringing out loud, and onlookers stared.

Holy shit.

Tags: @spnfamily-j2

[hongcherry]

I saw your post and i thought of smth like one of the members (in my head it's seungkwan but tbh it can be wonwoo) approaches y/n and dino, who at that point have been a long term couple, to ask for advice on getting more intimate with their partner of a couple of months. Y/n & dino suggest role playing and they list some examples which takes them to a tangent of which ones were their favorites which almost goes out of hand until member clears their throat which puts the blushing couple back to reality. Then y/n does a risky move and questions why member even likes the person, which angers said member until they go on a long loving rant, to which y/n just goes ayt mate chill i don't actually have beef w u i just wanted u to realize the PASSION u have which was really just the secret to y/n and chan's loving relationship bc duh who is lee chan if not passionate. And anw said member thanks them and leaves the two alone to get steamy (how much u wanna write is up to u wink wink)

It can even be a two POV thing like u write about chan x reader and another fic for the wonwoo x reader after his convo w the couple, to satisfy your urge to write :> or u could also NOT do it if it doesn't float your boat hehe just thought I'd put it out there :> anw if ever i get out of writer's block and u decide not to do it i might give it a shot (but at this point it is a very big shot in the dark if im even gonna find the inspiration to write it with still having pending WIPs lol)

Anw just came by to drop some crumbs here thank u for ur time i hope you're having a lovely day :>

different roles, same heart || l.c

💗 Pairing: Dino/Chan x Reader (afab)

💗 Rating/Genres/AUs: M(18+); Fluff (no smut but rated M for the context); Established relationship

💗 Warnings: Mentions of roleplaying and past roleplays

💗 Word Count: 1.1k

💗 Author's Note: Awh, thank you for sharing your idea with me!!! Please feel free to still write your own version if/when you feel up to it! Writing's block is a pain in the ass and sometimes difficult to overcome :c I hope you can get past your funk soon! It's a sucky spot to be in. And oof, I have so many WIPs... 🥴 Thank you again, and happy holidays (if you celebrate)!

seventeen masterlist | main masterlist

“Roleplaying?” Seungkwan repeats, eyeing you and Chan with a mix of disbelief and puzzlement.

“Yeah,” Chan nods. “You give each other a role, or character, to be and act out a scenario.”

“I know what it is,” Seungkwan huffs and waves his hand in the air as if to dismiss Chan’s words.

“Why do you seem confused then?” you wonder.

“I just didn’t expect that answer,” Seungkwan replies.

You shrug, leaning into Chan as you both sit on the couch. Seungkwan watches you both from the adjacent seat.

“I mean, you can try toys or different positions, or kinks, but we just found roleplaying to be the most exciting,” Chan explains.

“How so?” Seungkwan asks.

“Well, you can embody roles that normally might be inappropriate in real life, but have a thrilling repute.”

“Like a teacher and a student,” you chime in.

Chan smiles and glances at you. “That was fun, wasn’t it?”

You nod, recalling the time Chan punished you for being a disobedient student.

“Or that one time I was a police officer and you were an inmate,” you continue.

“You looked so sexy with half your uniform on,” Chan murmurs, getting lost in the memory.

“The handcuffs definitely added to it too,” you giggle.

“I liked you in the maid outfit as well. All bent ov—”

Seungkwan clears his throat to stop him.

“I get it,” he says, face slightly red from hearing your stories. “But, isn’t it a little embarrassing to play pretend?”

“It’s only embarrassing if both partners don’t commit to their roles,” you say.

“It did feel a little strange at first, but you get into it really quickly,” Chan reassures.

Seungkwan sounds unsure when he says, “I don’t know.”

You purse your lips in thought and move away from Chan.

“Why do you want to get more intimate with your partner? Why do you like them that much to care?” you ask.

Seungkwan’s silent for a moment, but it seems like it’s not for him to consider the reason. It’s more to calm his nerves before he can get too annoyed.

“How could you even ask that?” Seungkwan scoffs, offended. “We may not have been together as long as you guys, but that doesn’t mean what we have isn’t strong. You act as if you know us better than we know each other. They’ve treated me better than any partner I’ve had before and I can see how much they care about me. And I care about them just as much—maybe even more!”

You chuckle softly. “I never doubted how much you liked them.”

“Then why did you ask those questions?” he frowns.

“Because I wanted you to see it’s the passion that drives the relationship,” you explain sincerely. “It’s not about how sexual you are or the duration of the relationship. It’s about the passion you have for each other.”

You glance at Chan when he’s silent only to find him staring at you with a big smile. You can tell from his eyes how much he loves you. Your heart floods with comforting warmth.

Before you get too lost in Chan, you turn to Seungkwan again.

“Even the most vanilla sex can still be thrilling if there’s passion between people,” you expand.

“I suppose that’s true,” Seungkwan says slowly, digesting your words.

“However, there’s still nothing wrong with wanting to spice things up in the bedroom. Just make sure it’s for the right reason,” you smile.

Seungkwan returns the grin, nodding. “Right.”

Chan leans toward you, wrapping an arm around your waist and giving your temple a loving kiss. It’s as if your words reminded him how much he’s devoted to you.

“Well, I better head out,” Seungkwan says and stands from his seat to make his way to the door.

You and Chan follow suit.

“We hope we helped you,” Chan says, arm around your waist.

“I’m sorry if I made you mad earlier,” you apologize quickly.

Seungkwan waves his hand again, smiling. “I just got ahead of myself. I understand your intention now.”

Chan holds the door open for Seungkwan, watching as his friend stands in the doorway.

“Thank you both,” Seungkwan says.

“Anytime, Kwanie,” you grin.

“And good luck,” Chan winks.

Seungkwan rolls his eyes playfully and gives you both a wave before leaving.

Chan shuts the door, then looks at you.

“What?” you ask, unsure why he’s staring at you quietly.

“You know, when we were recalling our past roleplays,” he begins and grabs your waist to pull you closer. “I kept thinking of new ones.”

“Oh, yeah?” you smile, arms wrapping around his shoulders. Chan’s eyes dart down to your lips briefly.

“I’m thinking you’re one of my tenants, but you haven’t been able to pay the bill for two months,” Chan says.

You listen attentively, heart already beginning to race with the idea.

“So, you’re my landlord?” you ask.

He nods. “And I come by to get the overdue bills, but you still don’t have the money.”

You smile, understanding where he’s going with his scenario.

“You wanna do that now?” you question.

Sometimes, you’ll set a date to act out your roleplays—giving you enough time to get any materials needed or to prepare to be in a certain mindset. However, this one doesn’t appear to need much planning.

Chan shrugs. “I’m okay with that. Are you?”

“I’m more than okay.”

Chan grins and squeezes your hips. You lean in to kiss him, but he keeps you at arm's length.

“You can save that for later,” he says.

You pout but oblige.

“I’m going to get changed then step out for a while,” he explains.

“How long will you be?” you wonder, eager to get started.

Chan chuckles at your restlessness and moves away from you.

“I think it’d be more exciting if I didn’t tell you,” he replies and moves to the bedroom.

Although you try to follow him, he shuts the door on you and locks it.

“Hey!” you whine and wiggle the doorknob. “Channie!”

“Can’t spoil what I’ll wear. Go to the living room and don’t leave until you hear the front door close,” he instructs.

“You know landlords don’t dress fancy, right?” you huff. You can see the appeal in not knowing what he’ll look like but don’t like the idea of waiting any longer.

“It doesn’t matter. If you see me now, it might affect the scene.”

“Fine, I’m going,” you grumble.

“I’ll see you soon, baby,” he calls out sweetly.

“Yeah, okay,” you say as you leave, mouth in a frown.

You know you’re being an impatient baby, but how can you not be when your boyfriend just proposed a sexy new idea and plans to fuck you senseless? 

A/N: There will be a aprt two 🫡

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©️hongcherry // DO NOT REPOST OR MODIFY Please consider reblogging if you liked this work to show your support. Feedback/commentary is always welcomed.

[eww-y-tho]

A Ben Rant

[it get's real, sorry. also spoilers for the entire show so far.]

The reason I really can't understand Ben apologists is because, like Nick, I don't care about his issues. I am a raging bisexual in the throes of living with a very homophobic dad and a constant fear of being outed to him by my mother, and I wouldn't stoop to Ben's level in any way.

His behaviour is simply unjustifiable. That's why I love Darcy, she is also in a bleak situation, but tries to live her life authentically and without being a trash human being. A true foil so people can understand that perspective.

Truth is, just because Ben was in a bad environment doesn't mean that he has the justification to be a horrible person who abused Charlie. And let us not beat around the bush here, he sexually assaulted him. To be frank, the correct course of action would be a restaining order, being exposed for his crimes, a spot on his criminal record, and either serving some time (6 months-a year) or an astronomical amount of community service.

Sorry, you should have those consequences for your actions. It honestly gets me angry that Nick and Charlie didn't press charges and at least try to get him off that campus. I get it, they're young and really nice kids, but it's really sad that an acknowledged criminal walked off scot-free.

And honestly, when placed in that perspective, Ben's "apology" is even more insulting. That was just a last attempt at getting Charlie back, which is gross.

This hits too close to home in the form of my sister who went through a similar situation to Charlie. She has her Nick now, don't worry lol. I'm rewatching Heartstopper with her and I could tell it affected her.

When you or someone close to you has experienced a similar thing, I feel like it's easier to put it in perspective. But honestly, Ben shouldn't be given any sympathy whatsoever. He is a villain to his bones. And let's not even go into the mess that was Ben and Imogen.

Actually, let's do exactly that.

Imogen is proof that Ben did not learn his lesson and is just a sucky human being. He straight up used Imogen just to make Nick angry and rub it in his face. Imagine knowing the person who assaulted your boyfriend is dating one of your best friends. It's just gross.

And Ben's only motivations were his petty jealousy that Nick is a better boyfriend for Charlie than he ever was and that he wanted the control he had over Charlie back, as was pointed out by Nick and Charlie multiple times.

And let us also not forget that Ben is so far in his delusional mindset that he doesn't even recognize what he did wrong. A half-assed "I'm sorry, for everything," doesn't acknowledge what he did. How about you actually list everything you know you did wrong and apologize for every single one of them? That would show actual remorse.

That indicates that the only reason he's saying those things was to get Charlie in his good graces, not actually stating his remorse for those actions.

And I'm glad Charlie did not forgive him. It was a very powerful scene that went against the grain in similar plotlines where the perpetrator is forgiven for their deplorable actions.

Ben just wanted to have someone as his personal marionette, if that makes sense, and it really grosses me out, which is why people who defend Ben make me angry. You're defending a disgusting human being who deserved everything that came to him.

In the end, he pushed everyone around him away and he will continue to do so, and either learn to be better (which I find unlikely, based on the rainbow wave), or die alone.

This sentiment has been talked about a lot before, so I'm not expecting a revolutionary idea coming from this, but I just wanted to get this off my chest because I saw comments defending Ben and I wanted to rant for a second.

[ynbabe]

Jason Todd / Red Hood anxious to get you under the mistletoe cause he is in love with you so bad and doesn't know what to do because he is afraid to scare you away if he confess

Thank you for requesting! Hope y'all like this! Keep em coming guys! 💚💙💚

Christmas in Gotham was just how you would expect, dark, dreary, and overall miserable... At least that's what Jason would say. 

His brothers called him the Grinch but that wasn't true, he used to love Christmas, as any child would, but crime alley, being an orphan, being robin, and dying, had taken the joy out of everything in his life. Christmas was especially worse, because he saw Tim and Damian and Steph and Cass with Bruce, having the Christmas he'd wished for. 

And he was stuck, all alone, in a sucky apartment in the narrows making sure the streets were safe, making sure everyone got the Christmas they deserved but where was his Christmas, when did he get to be happy?

"Hey, Jay!" He stopped in his tracks as the familiar voice broke the static and spoke out through his comms. Y/N, the only one who he trusted, the only one who was waiting for him at home, the only one he could call home.

"Hi, Y/n," He began walking again, surprised by the softness in his voice.

"When you comin' home, dude, I've been decoratin' for like an hour, already." the person on the other end of the line said, some noises of rummaging following soon after.

"What you miss me already?" He responded with a small smirk, making his way back.

"Nope, I just want my gift," they deadpanned making Jason give a fake gasp.

"Is that all you care about?" he joked heaving himself up the ground onto the first-floor window, using ledges to make his way up to his apartment on the second floor, "I am wounded," the man said making you laugh, he looked through the window to see you sitting on the sofa, talking to him, fidgeting with your hair.

He knocked on the window, making you jump and screech at the sight of him, he smiled under his hood as you heaved with your hand on your chest.

You walked up to the window and slammed it open, "I hate it when you do that," You pulled him in with the cuff of his leather jacket. "Bro, there is a door for a REASON," You ranted falling back on the sofa, and laying down again.

Jason laughed, taking off his helmet and jacket, and looked around the room, it was covered in reds and greens, with white streamers running all around the ceiling, and a big Christmas tree was in the corner of the living room, it had gold, silver baubles and a few of Jason's guns and knives as a long-running joke between the two.

He sat on the sofa pushing your feet off, making you whine about 'needing rest after saving Christmas you Grinch'. He looked at you to roll his eyes but paused as soon as he saw the small green plant, hanging on the beam above the middle of the sofa.

It made his mind run at speeds to places where he didn't want to go to. 

He had known you for two years now, and the both of you were just friends but every time he looked at you, every time he spoke to you, he felt something else, something he didn't feel with his other friends.

He didn't know what to tell you, would you be weirded out? Would you hate him? Would you leave him?

"Jace, are you okay?" you said pulling him out of his mind, he hadn't even realized he had stopped talking while looking up at the mistletoe.

He looked back at you with shakey hands, he didn't know what to say, but he couldn't stay quiet anymore.

"I, um, I have to tell you something," you sat up, coming closer to him, the atmosphere suddenly serious, "please don't hate me after this but I think I like you and I get it if it's weird now and you don't wanna talk anymore but-" He began ranting but you interpreted him by placing your lips on his, making him freeze in place, slowly warming up to the touch.

"You don't this is weird? You aren't pissed at me right?" He asked after stopping, a bright red blush on his face.

"Nah, I heard you talking to Dick about it last week, why do think I put up the mistletoe?" You smirked at him making him groan and roll his eyes, falling back onto the sofa, dragging his hands over his face.

"I hate you so much."

"You know you love me."

"Shut up."

[unma]

Rant below. Some stuff here about homophobia, racism, and my issues with Christianity (in relation to the uni I'm attending).

I've complained enough about being in a christian university and how much that sucks, but the fall festival here happened a couple days ago and I'm starting to genuinely feel unsafe here.

The most recent Internet Today video about Trump, made me realize that if he won, shit really would hit the fan. Specifically me putting two and two together about their plans for denaturalization, and all the racism against Haitian immigrants.

This alone is fine. I mean, it's definitely fucked that one of the two major political parties hates my very existence and the existence of people like me, but I've gotten used to living in such a sucky world.

What made me worried was heading to the fall festival and seeing a table for some conservative organization targeting youths. It makes sense, Christians fine with Christian universities likely lean right anyway, but it did feel a little weird given the fact still fresh in my mind that the future they want would have me gone, either dead or living a much worse life.

Then I saw some of the chalk drawings on the ground, for some sort of event or something (I don't pay that much attention to the goings on if they don't concern me or my classes) and saw a pro-life message. And then I remembered all the homophobic sermons I've had to listen to on Wednesdays. And that racism is still very much a thing, not at all helped by the fact that some of the people I hang around had discussed it in passing.

Don't get me started on their opinions on Israel. I'm scared to even bring that up.

I've mentioned to some people that if it weren't for the fact that I was attending this uni, I might have felt safe to express myself a little more, wear dresses and just try to be me for the first time in my life. And I'd already accepted that I'd have to wait years for that chance, but now I'm slowly but surely getting more and more worried.

It's not that I'm worried about being attacked by a racist or something. Least of my issues, most of the people here (at least, all the people I've met) are kind and rather clearly not racist, and I don't leave my room enough to even be worried about that lol. It's just that a good majority of the people here have political ideas completely opposed to mine, because this is an institution built on said ideas that I oppose. And those ideas include the fact that people like me, people who are queer, are sinners and will gain eternal suffering for just trying to be ourselves.

Who knows? Maybe if Trump continues to open his mouth for long enough they might decide that actually, they don't like immigrants like me anymore and want me gone or dead.

I so hate it here.

[op81s]

💌 👉👈

oh. cass.

where do i even begin? another person i really haven't known very long in the grand scheme of things and yet? one of my favorite people in the world. like. you're pretty high up there 💖

fun fact. i think the first time we interacted was me commenting on your miami gp posts? about seeing lawrence stroll? it's either that OR, you asking if anyone wanted to proofread your first alib chapter? oh, if only we knew what that would lead to huh? 😉

now. we're both alexander rossi freaks and we've managed to drag mari into the fold and then she dragged us into the boyfriend teammates fold. it's almost like all important and true friendships needs to be built on the shipping of men getting into cars and going vroom vroom 🤔

aNYWAY. enough about the past. let's talk about all the ways i love you and appreciate you being in my life.

first. i'm sorry your job is being sucky af right now 'cause i genuinely could not think of a person that deserve that LESS than you? 'cause you're truly one of the sweetest people i've ever met???? and EVERY time you send that little 'good morning!!' message to the gc i KNOW both mine and mari's moods are INSTANTLY improved 'cause we get to talk to you!! and that's truly a blessing 💖

but yeah. i just honestly feel so grateful whenever you send a little message checking in with me, seeing if things are good. and listening to me when i need to rant a little.

to end this all before it gets way too long. you're beautiful inside and out and i wish you all the best things 'cause it's what you deserve 💖

mutuals (or non mutuals!) send me a 💌 and ill tell u something i love about you

[oatmealdaydreams]

Thomas is Steven Universe - A Rant

Disclaimer: I don't have a lot of knowledge about Steven Universe, both show and movie. So if I get anything wrong, please correct and I will fix it!

For anyone who may be confused: yes, I am talking about the person/irl Thomas Sanders. Not the character.

Also: feel free to discuss your thoughts about this. I'm curious as to what y'all have to say about this.

===

Okay, but think about it for a sec.

Steven Universe has childlike wonder. He's very kind and empathetic, and tends to be a sensitive boyo. He has a star shirt (Thomas literally has a star shirt, too). He sees the best in people. He is genuine and sincere with everyone. He is so bubbly and wholesome. He loves people so damn genuinely and wholeheartedly and honestly.

He goes on adventures and figures things out with the Crystal Gems, who remind me a lot of the Sides. The Gems, just like the freaking Sides, argue and they fight. They give advice and have banter with each other. To my limited knowledge, they do what they can to protect Steven, especially since he's quite literally a child.

Thomas is like that. He is loving, kind, sensitive, empathetic, and a bit childish in a goofy way. Like I mentioned, he literally has a star shirt. He and the Sides (in Sanders Sides) go on 'adventures', which are more like adventures of the mind. They help Thomas figure things out and come to reasonable conclusions. Advice is given. Banter and arguments are frequent. Just like the Gems are to Steven, the Sides are like family to Thomas (especially since they're literally a part of him).

Life lessons are had. People apologize and things get forgiven. Everyone is learning as the arcs go on. They're all insecure about different things, and sometimes they expose those insecurities. BUT, but: they grow and apologize and make up for the hurt they've caused. I'm not saying everything is easily forgiven; I'm saying that they try to be better and work towards being forgiven. It's not easy, it never will be. That's a fact of life when it comes to things like hurting people and forgiveness. It's a grey area. Most things, if not all, are a grey area/have a grey area.

Moving on: Emile Picani/Dr. Picani (from Cartoon Therapy) literally uses Steven Universe as an analogy/metaphor for relationships. He uses the different fusions of the Gems as examples to better explain how different relationships may work, or may not work. It's a commonly-known media, used to benefit both the characters and the viewers to understand different relationships and such.

You could say Thomas growing up on Steven Universe had an impact on him. A pretty big one at that.

His series Sanders Sides, of which he created to better understand himself and it went from there, has a very common thing of self-love. Specifically, I'd say the main theme of it is learning to love yourself, regardless of whoever you are or whatever you've done in life.

I'd say the song from Steven Universe that reminds me the most of Thomas is Change Your Mind. Because self-love is so damn important to him, as far as I can tell (at least). He is learning to respect him and love himself, and that is just so f*cking beautiful. And honestly? I'm proud of him. It's not easy. I'm currently on that same journey, and it has its very sucky moments. So of course I'm proud of him. I'm proud of anyone who is going/has gone through that.

I hope to see that song at the inevitable end of Sanders Sides. Not a season finale, but the true end of the entire series. It'll happen one day, much to mine and the fandom's dismay (because we f*cking love the Sides), but I know it'll happen. And that's okay, because we love him for him and not just for his content/creations. At the end, I hope Thomas has learned good and well how to love himself. That he deserves it, to be loved and cherished and wanted. That he deserves to be selfish, to be brutally honest and to have bad days. That he is worth it.

Because we all deserve that. We all deserve to be loved and cherished and wanted, to be selfish and brutally honest and to have bad days, that we're all worth it.

You're all worth it, and I hope you take this as a reminder. Because I love you all platonically and deeply and genuinely, and I hope one day you love yourself the same way. I'm proud to have met each and every one of you, and that I get to exist with y'all. I'm proud to exist with those of you that I'll never know or meet, who may never interact with me and may stay forever in the background. I will remind the f*ck out of all of you if I have to, because you're all worth it. You don't have to earn it, or earn anything to be worth it and loved. You just have to exist.

(That goes for you too, Thomas.)

So yes: Thomas Sanders is basically Steven Universe personified.

I will die on this hill.

I also wouldn't be surprised if someone has made a Steven Universe AU or crossover with Sanders Sides. Because there's a good amount of parallels, and it'd be pretty funny to see.

Love y'all (/p) <3

[hypergamiss]

Hello 👋

How are you? I had a really bad ex where he cheated on me with basically everyone (my cousin, ex gf/bestie, someone from law class, and several other randoms). He cheated on me and ended up with his bestie that's also his ex gf even though he said there wasn't anything to worry about, in fact he didn't even break up with me 🙈 he went on holiday with her for his birthday and put up romantic pics. His bestie/ex gf even tagged me in their relationship announcement. I found out that they got married because his now wife came to the law firm that I'm serving articles with to shout out at me to 'Stay away from her husband ' 😂 I don't need to tell you that I got fired because of this 😭. I feel like with the amount of cheating, gaslighting and my ass getting fired, I just feel emotionally exhausted and I don't where to go from here... I feel like I lost my confidence. Sorry for the rant and I would love some advice ❤️

Girl. First of all, lemme give you a virtual hug, a stiff drink, and a standing ovation for surviving that dumpster fire of a relationship. Your ex sounds like a walking, talking red flag convention. Cheating with everyone except the mailman? Gaslighting you with the subtlety of a neon sign? And getting his new squeeze to ambush you at work? Honey, that's not just toxic, it's a biohazard.

It's totally normal to feel emotionally wrecked after going through something like that. Betrayal, public humiliation, AND losing your job? That's a triple whammy of suckiness. No wonder your confidence took a hit.

But here's the thing: you are NOT defined by that trashbag of an ex or his drama-queen wife. Here's how to start picking up the pieces:

Ditch the guilt trip: You did NOTHING to deserve this mess. His cheating, their craziness – that's on them. Don't let anyone, including your own brain, blame you for their terrible behavior.

Give yourself time: Healing takes time. Be patient, and allow yourself to feel the feelings – anger, sadness, even a touch of pity for those two idiots.

Build your support squad: Lean on good friends, family, and maybe even a therapist. They'll remind you of your worth and cheer you on.

Rediscover your awesome: What lights you up? What were you passionate about before this mess? Dive back in, even if it's small steps at first. Passion fuels confidence.

Embrace the "glow up": Not about revenge, but about YOU feeling your best. New haircut? Hitting the gym? Rocking those power outfits? Do it. Outer confidence helps rebuild the inner kind.

Red Flag Radar Upgrade: This whole ordeal might feel like a sucker punch, but it can be a powerful learning experience. Here's the thing: there probably WERE red flags in your relationship, little warning signs you might have ignored. Next time around, become a red-flag detector! Here are some things to watch out for:

Excessive jealousy or possessiveness. A healthy partner respects your independence.

Gaslighting and manipulation. Don't let someone twist reality to make you question yourself.

Disrespectful behavior. A partner who puts you down or doesn't value your opinions isn't a keeper.

Broken promises and inconsistency. Actions speak louder than words. Pay attention to how someone treats you.

Bonus Tip: Trust your gut! If something feels off, it probably is. Don't ignore that inner voice that's trying to protect you.

And as for your job situation? File for unemployment, then dust yourself off and start hunting. This setback is temporary. You're obviously driven to be in the legal field. Don't let their bad behavior derail your dreams.

Remember, you survived the worst they threw at you. Now, you get to rebuild your life on your own terms, surrounded by people who actually deserve you. And trust me, someday you'll look back at this and think, "Damn, I'm a total badass for getting through THAT."

[galvanizedfriend]

21 and 26 :)

21. Share your favorite piece of dialogue

This one is so hard! Particularly because I have the memory of a goldfish and even though I'm sure there are parts I was very proud of when I wrote them, I can never anything afterward.

But I do think I like the scene in The Unexpected Grace of Falling Apart where Caroline is at the cemetery for the anniversary of her mother's passing, having the worst time of her life, totally wasted and miserable, and Klaus shows up (because of course he noticed she'd disappeared, and of course he knew what day it was, and of course he knew where to find her, and of course he was the only one) and boding happens. I like the flow of the conversation. I like that it feels a bit like it's the heart of the story. Caroline clearly needed someone to talk to but, as always, decided to keep it to herself because she didn't want to burden anyone, and nobody was keeping a close enough eye on her to see how she was just on the verge of breaking at this point. But the second Klaus appears, things just start pouring out of her. And then Klaus unexpectedly shares something very personal with her and it changes everything. Because he sees what she's going through, through the incoherent and drunk mess that she is, and he just understands. He sees her and he knows what she needs without her ever having to spell it out or ask for it.

I'll put it under read more.

26. If you had to choose one, what was THE most satisfying writing moment of your year?

Reposting Pendulum, I think. It's my favorite story I ever wrote, so to finally have a version of it I think was good enough felt great lol But this might change in a couple of months when I decided to re-read it. I'm very volatile.

Thanks for your asks! And I'm still taking numbers from this fic writer ask list, if you're interested.

"Would you believe me if I said I figured you might be having a terrible day?"

Caroline feels a bit of a sting in her heart. Terrible doesn't even begin to cut it, she wants to say. But then she frowns, a random thought crossing her mind. "Don't you think the word terrible is way too overused?"

Klaus blinks at her. "What do you mean?"

"People say terrible all the time. Everything is terrible. It's been - I don't know... Triliavized. Trivalidized. Tri - oh, fuck it. You know what I mean.”

“Trivialized,” he provides with ease.

“Whatever. Anyway. If everything is terrible, then nothing really is."

"So you're not having a terrible day?"

She huffs out a drunk laugh, devoid of any humor. "No, I am. This - today - definitely, definitely goes under the terrible category. Hence..." Caroline waves her bottle in the air. "I used to call home every time I had a bad day. My mother had a million things to do, but she would always stop everything to listen to me rant - and boy, can I rant."

"Don't I know that?" Klaus replies quietly, lips pulling into the bare hint of grin.

She barely hears him. "I always used that word, terrible. Whenever my boss was a dick, or my date turned out to be dumb and uninteresting, or when I spilled coffee all over my shirt on the way to work, it would always be the start of a terrible day my mom would hear all about later. She held her phone to her ear until it burned but she soldiered on, never told me to shut up, or to get a grip, or to stop whining. She just… Listened. Like it actually mattered that I was upset. But it was all so stupid. Now that I think about it... Moody boss? Sucky date, freaking spilled coffee? None of that is terrible. It's just... Inconvenient.” She turns to look at him. “Do you know what's really terrible? A dead mother. That is truly, truly terrible. It should be in the dictionary, next to the definition of the word terrible. And it's a terrible that keeps on giving, you know? It's a terrible that never ends, because it doesn't matter how much time goes by, or how many good days I have, after everything, when I go to sleep at night, my mother is still dead, and there's never gonna be a time when that will stop being terrible. And that’s the whole problem, you know? I didn’t realize how ungrateful I was. I didn't appreciate things as I should have, because my parameters were all messed up. I didn't know what terrible really was. And now I do. I live in terrible now, constantly. And I would give anything to go back to the days when spilled coffee was my idea of the end of the world. I'd bathe myself in hot coffee every single morning, from here to the end of my life, or go through a thousand miserable dates if I could just call my mom and -"

Her voice cracks up, a brand new wave of hot tears streaming down her face. Caroline didn't even realize she'd started crying until the lump in her throat became too painful, spilling out of her in sobs.

In spite of how much she's had to drink, the suffocating tightness is a very sobering sensation. When she wakes up tomorrow, with her skull pounding and the mother of all hangovers roaring through her, this ache will still be there, like shattered glass ripping her to shreds on the inside.

Klaus offers her a handkerchief, and Caroline takes it, dabbing it in her eyes to wipe the worst of her ugly tears away. Her ruined mascara stains the pearly white fabric - because of course she didn't even remember to put the waterproof one on.

If she weren't feeling so miserable, she might hate herself for breaking down in front of him like this. As it is, she couldn't care less. All the petty resentment she's been harboring towards Klaus for a year now feels small compared to everything else.

"I had a little brother," he starts talking after a moment. Caroline turns to him, confusion creasing her brow. He's staring ahead, a faraway look in his eyes, but a grim set to his lips. "Henrik. He was my favorite. The youngest of us, but so smart, so curious. I was in university, but I went home for his birthday weekend. He demanded we all did. It was the only thing that could ever get the lot of us in the same room. As a family, we're one big irreconcilable difference, but we had this one soft spot in common: Henrik. None of us knew how to say no to him. He had just recently gotten into football - real football, not your appalling version of it. Couldn't stop talking about the bloody thing. He wanted to go see a match and wouldn't leave me alone until I said yes, so I took him. His team won, he was radiant, wouldn’t shut up on the way back. We were almost home when a truck didn't stop at a red light." A muscle twitches on Klaus' jaw, his throat shifting. "Henrik died in my arms," he says, raw emotion thickening his speech "He was only thirteen."

Caroline curls her fingers, balling her hands to hold back the urge to touch him. "I'm sorry," she says in a small, tight voice. "That must've been -"

"Terrible?" he finishes for her with a rueful grin. "Yes. It was. It's been a decade and I still think about him almost every day, in one way or another. I don't think I'll ever stop. That's the truly harrowing part of losing someone so soon, isn't it? They leave so many blank spaces behind. You can never stop wondering. What they would've done, what they would’ve liked, where they would've gone, moments you would've shared. I suppose it's the same with your mother. She was still young."

Caroline feels the burn of fresh tears behind her eyes once more as she turns back to the gray headstone in front of her. Her mom would've been 50 this year. Caroline had big plans.

"I could paint the truth in pastel colors and make it more palatable for you, but I think you're someone who appreciates honesty, no matter how brutal it might be." Klaus turns his face to her, waiting until she meets his eyes, calm and understanding, before continuing. "The pain never really goes away. You'll never stop missing your mother. You'll think you're fine, that you're over it, and then out of the blue, you'll see something that reminds you of her - her favorite movie on TV, her favorite dish on a menu, her favorite song playing at a store - and it'll hurt all over again. But the pain won't always feel like a fresh wound. It gets dulled with time, as you learn how to live with it, until it becomes a part of you. You'll grow around it, become stronger, and soon it won't feel so much as pain anymore, but almost like a fond memory. It'll be good, and you'll be glad that it's there. It means she's still with you, that you haven't forgotten. And so, when you get that twinge deep in your chest... You'll surprise yourself by being grateful."

[filthforfriends]

I created my tumblr as a platform to dump my writing and fan edits, but also as a place where I didn’t have to filter myself. My mental health is so fragile that when something happens to me everyone wants to go straight to fixing it and skip the “wow that sucks” stage. However I’ve learned that feeling my anger is important because for so long my mother filled up all that space emotionally. Here I I can rant and rage and not worry about concealing anything. People whose names I don’t know not only validated my experiences, but often share them or at least understand them in a way that comes with tremendous empathy. But for the first time I’ve paused and I’ve concealed and I’ve questioned whether or not I should post this.

My life is no longer garden variety sucky things took a really disturbing turn just after Christmas. But there are still a variety of reasons I want to post this, mainly I don’t know how to feel or react. Maybe someone else has endured something this violating and humiliating but shoved it way down and felt alone. God knows I share those actions.

If you click beyond this point you’re agreeing that you’re at least in your 20s, mentally stable, and understand that what follows is megafucked

My mom is a published author. I was discouraged from reading her work because it was as very “adult” but at age 15 I snuck a peak on a story that I realized it was not so loosely based on my brother. I know she wrote about her life experiences through the lens of her narcissism and called it fiction, but I thought that the much of her stories was still made up.

So I’m visiting family over the holidays and my cousin whom I haven’t talked to since 2015 could tell that a book my mom published in 2019 was very clearly about me and non-fiction. He said that he tried to read the book but “there was just something about it he didn’t like.” It gave me a strange feeling so I read the short story.

It was absolutely not fictionalized at all. The character had a different name but the story contained my exact medical information, exact dates reactions happened. Extremely specific descriptions of my medical issues, many of which were mental.

There’s no question I should have been taken to a child psychologist. By the age of four I’d developed panic disorder, OCD, attachment disorder, and suicidal tendencies. I was not a happy child I was in constant fear and my mom used every detail of this because my story was compelling. I really can’t stress enough that she changed nothing but my name.

She documented exactly what I said during panic attacks that ruined my life. She documented what I said after attempting to drown myself. When they brought me to a therapist she documented how I behaved in the sessions, what I said, what the therapist said. My mother takes a journal with her everywhere and journals in the morning and evening.

She took all these direct quotes and described my every trauma response and brush with death in the first five years of my life. Confidential, highly specific, private information and she got it published and distributed nationally. I helped her do press on that book because I didn’t know. Now all these people know the most intimate details of my excruciating childhood.

I can only assume she did the same with her last book which several of my high school teachers read because they were her graduate students. She wrote the recommendation letters that helped them get that teaching position. My mother is a respected tenured professor at the university in our city. I cannot exaggerate how trapped I feel right now.

Eden, that sucks but it isn’t disturbing. This is me giving you another chance to scroll.

I found out from reading this non fiction “fiction” about my childhood that I was molested. By my mother. She wrote about molesting me. I had no memory of this particular incidence but I do remember another one like it that I ignored by convincing myself it was an accident. So I know that just like everything else in that story, the molestation did happen. I’ve showed it to a social worker and my therapist who both agree what the scene described.

Absolutely horrifying right? Yeah, especially because it’s on the third page. Especially because she gave this book to every member of my large extended family for Christmas. I can’t believe she allowed me to devote hours to publicity for this book. I got her in a Buzzfeed article. I must look like a imbecile to anyone that attends readings and signing who have read the book themselves.

My working theory is that my mother was just doing to me what was done to her by multiple men in her childhood. I don’t think she was attracted to me as a child. Because of her narcissism she didn’t consider how I might be affected from these experiments. Of course she hasn’t acknowledged what happened on any level. The scene is phrased as if I wanted what was happening to be which of course I didn’t because I was four.

I think poorly concealing it in a story was some sort of absolution. If people read it and didn’t call her out that would mean she did nothing wrong. Every mental health physician has suspected molestation even after I insisted it didn’t happen. They only asked about the men in my life, but never my mother.

I don’t know how to feel or act or change as a person or think about it or treat it. Has this dictated everything about my relationship with sex? Has it dictated nothing about my relationship with sex? How do I move forward?