#once again the patriarchy lets everyone down

[leehoney0]

OK?

Female reader . suggestive . Bimbo in the apocalypse!

Bimbo reader! Having to be dragged away from a store as she stares down a mannequin for a skirt you’ve been eyeing since before the end of the world,rick having to talk you out of it.There was no way you could take down all those walkers that invaded the store.

Bimbo reader! Going on runs with rick to help him out since everyone was so busy,rick knows you only come with him so you can look through peoples abandoned closets and you get some alone time with your favorite dilf!

Bimbo reader! Who is only allowed to wear her bright pink clothes when there at base!,rick would never risk you getting hurt so he makes sure he gives you a yes on your outfit before heading out.

Bimbo reader! Crying as you ruined one of your shirts with walker guts,Rick holding you as you cry into his chest.him having to explain to you that you should of left your good clothes at home.

Bimbo reader! always listening to ricks commands if he feels it’s too dangerous,he send you off to hide until he calls your name to come out from your hiding spot,running into his arms to make sure he’s alright.

Bimbo reader! and Rick having a code word,it being the name of your favorite brand,him and you using it since you came across the wrong guy once and he never wants that to happen again!

Bimbo reader! meeting the new recruits,not noticing how they all seem to be staring at your chest,whispering among themself if you had a boyfriend and who would get a chance with the dumb klutz who’s clothes didn’t wear appropriate clothes for an apocalypse!

Bimbo reader! who makes her cell all pink,choosing one in the corner to have more privacy,lucky you didn’t have to share.ricks rooms was next to yours,although he likes yours better.you always found nice pillows on your runs.

Bimbo reader! giving kisses to everyone she likes,thanking them by a peck on their cheek,Daryl who brings you back something knowing your gonna give him one of your peck.. Rick glaring at the interactions.

Bimbo reader! Glaring at anyone who stares at Rick,not Knowing he wouldn’t give them the light of day as he overheard them gossiping,how it wasn’t right the way you dressed,Rick keeping you close to him that night showing you off proudly!

Bimbo reader! Who Wouldn’t stop crying when they all got separated after the prison getting stuck with Maggie,your cheeks always stained with tears not knowing where Rick was or if he was even alive.

Bimbo reader! Not being able to function without Rick,he was always there to protect you.everyone wondered how you were able to survive this long,reuniting with Rick was the happiest you had ever been.

Bimbo reader! when entering Alexandria had a lot of the guys asking for your time,you had been so busy looking for Rick that you had brushed them off without even knowing what they were asking.staring at your behind of you ran off to find Rick

Bimbo reader! Not really having a job around Alexandria,they tried to find you something to do but you just couldn’t grasp much,so they just made you water the plants and crops since that was the easiest thing around.

Bimbo reader! Not liking any of the clothes they offered when you first arrived begging Rick or Daryl to take you to the nearest abandoned homes or shops go find something more appealing.more PINK

Why can’t I just be a girl without someone telling me it goes back to the patriarchy… IKNOW let me live jeez I know!!!! Anyways enjoy inst the best but havent been writing good these past few times

[vigilante24ish]

🌙 Moon Phases 🌙

Agatha Harkness X Fem!Reader

Word Count: 1369

Chapter 40:

You all turned to look at Billy, who grabbed his little spell book from his body bag. "At least we have our personal items."

Immediately, you rushed to check your body bags, all bearing similar expressions of relief by being reunited with your pendants.

You wore your own necklace, the light metal cold against your flushing skin, and adrenaline still coursing through your pumping veins. Your fingers gently brushed the three moon phases, and you closed your eyes, taking a deep breath.

Wearing it, somehow, made you feel more secure and safe; a placebo effect that helped calm you down a little more and allow your head to be clearer.

The moment was interrupted, though by the sound of the morgue drawers being pulled back into place, the knocking sound almost startling you.

If that was not enough, the growing lights above you started to flicker before one shut down.

"The countdown," you exclaimed, eyes following the circle formed by the lights; while wondering how quick each light would turn off after the other.

Deep inside your instincts were telling you that the time would not last long, not as long as the other trials.

Agatha noticed that Jen was rather quiet, not panicking like usual. Instead, Agatha swore Jen was actually thinking of something for a change.

"You seem relaxed." She called her out. "Usually, at this point, you're either complaining loudly or freaking out loudly."

Jen gave her a hard look, clearly not in the mood for her annoying antics. "I'm thinking."

"Oh. About what?

"How to save your ass."

"Pardon?"

"I couldn't save Lilia. I didn't even try to save Alice. I'll be damned if I let you three idiots die."

You placed a hand on your waist as you looked at her, clearly not happy being called an Idiot or any of your companions being called that.

However, you held back any remark for the moment. It was the first time you saw Jen actually putting others above herself, when all those trials she had been selfish and the first to go when given the chance.

And considering you once again needed to work together somehow to make it through, this worked in your favour.

Of course, Agatha did not seem to share your thoughts.

"Wow. Such a purpose. How are you gonna do that without any magic?" She questioned, in the mood for an argument.

"Agatha, that's enough," you said, no authority coming from your voice much to your dismay.

Your body was still on edge, and it was taking a lot of mental training to remain calm and try to think of a solution, rather than letting your emotions and your haunting memories get the best of you.

Thankfully, you were not the only one ready to defend Jen.

"Y/N is right!" Billy said, putting his foot down. "She saved you from poisoning. She saved all of us. All while bound." He looked at Jen and offered a weak smile. "Maybe you don't need it."

Jen wanted to believe him, but she had a hard time too. Not that you blamed her. Your magic might be sort of a curse and a blessing to you, but you can not imagine your life without it.

"Well, if that's true, that means I've wasted the last century of my life." Jen commented. "That doctor in Boston didn't take anything from me. I gave it up."

It was then that you all noticed Agatha fidgeting faintly by tuning her fingers together and avoiding eye contact.

Unlike the others, you knew she acted that way when she knew something but refused to tell. Something that actually made her feel guilty, even slightly.

"Ags," you called her out, but she did not look you in the eyes. "You know something," she was about to argue, but you beat her to it. "I know that face and that fidgeting. I know what it means"

Defeated, Agatha started to throw parts of a story that matched Jen's story, and everyone made the connection.

"I didn't know it was you! It was the 1920s. I did the odd spell for bank notes. I don't know. The patriarchy really shelled out to shush a lady. It was bind or burn!" She justified herself, or so she tried.

For Jen was furious finding out the truth, and she had every right to be. With anger blinding her, she rushed to Agatha and even pulled a thick lock of her hair in one strong pull.

Agatha didn't even flinch at the pull, having built quite a pain tolerance thanks to Rio. She didn't even fight when Jen tied her wrists together with that strand of hair.

She might not react to it, but you were about to. No matter what took place back then, seeing Jen ripping out Agatha's hair like that made your protective instincts hit in.

Forgetting your own anxiety caused by the closed room, you were about to move and tackle Jen; having forgotten your powers worked normally.

Billy grabbed you by the waist and kept you back, surprised by your strength, considering he was taller than you and clearly heavier.

"Wait! Wait! Look!" He told you as he kept pulling you away from the two witches. "Yhe unbinding ritual."

This made you stop your fighting and look, realizing he was right. The strand of hair and the wrapped wrists were the basis for the ritual.

Jen was not trying to harm Agatha, you realized. She was trying to break the binds that kept her magic dormant and get back what was sealed away a century ago.

You calmed down, and Billy let you go. He stood right behind you, and the two of you watched as Jen repeated the same mantra again and again.

You hold nothing.

You hold nothing.

You hold nothing.

Each time that phrase was spoken with more power, with mode determination... with more need to work.

Jen's voice cracked, but she kept going, holding on every beat of hope that was left within her... one last chance to get back what was stolen from her.

In the end, it seemed to work based on Jen's expression.

Her face changed from shock to realisation and she could not help but fall on her knees, arms cradled in front of her chest and let out gasps and faint cries of hapiness; pink magic coming alive from her palms.

The sight broke your heart, seeing how Jen truly felt finally having her magic back.

Magic for witches was their essence, their core, and their will to live. It was part of them and having it sealed away, unable to sense it... to recreate this feeling of power and mysticism that existed within...

It was a fate worse than death.

Suddenly, Jen disappeared right in front of your eyes.

"What?" You exclaimed and rubbed your eyes, fearing your mind was playing tricks with you.

"Where did she go?" Billy asked next.

"Out of here," Agatha replied in a soft tone, deep down actually feeling happiness for Jen; capable of actually taking back what she was looking for.

You frowned. "But we are not done with the trials, yet"

Agatha looked at you, her gaze softening. "She is done with it. Her trial has already passed, and she got what she wanted."

You felt the need to argue but stopped yourself. The Road was a place unknown, and not even you or Agatha or Rio knew much about it. Each time it worked differently, each time seemed to make up something new.

So, who says the trials were not shortened? Or perhaps, it was giving a chance for some to find what they are looking for and be free without having to finish the road.

This was a comforting thought, deep down wanting to end this and get out.

The fact remained, though, how were you going to find what you are looking for? When you pretty much had nothing to work with and unlike Jen; there was no binding whatsoever that could be broken.

Chapter 41

[aspoonofsugar]

Do you think Adam will come back as a demon, having to redeem himself? It kind of feels like that's where the few hints at smth deeper going on with him are going.

Hi!

I mean, there is this:

As Charlie and Emily sing about amoral angels staying in the sky, the focus is on Adam and he looks very triggered. I also personally hope he comes back because I think his character offers great opportunities to explore others. Like Lucifer, Lute, Sera, Lilith and Charlie herself. That said, I am also okay if he is meant as a one-season villain tbh. In this case, I trust it is because the story has other plot-lines to follow. Also, it would be an hilarious call-back to his line:

A man only lives once, we'll see you in one month Gotta say, I can't wait to Come down and exterminate you

Adam, you're either right in how THE man only lives once, or you are so wrong and Charlie is so right, that you yourself get a second chance :P

That said, I think there is clearly more about Adam, Eve, Lilith and Lucifer's dynamic that needs to be addressed (either through Adam coming back or in other ways):

The series starts with the retelling of the myth of Eden in the form of a fairy tale. Still, it is clear that we are given only partial information.

Lucifer: Well, your first wife didn't seem to hate what I had to offer…or the second! Bowchicka pow pow!

Sera: He was the first human soul in heaven…

It is very unclear what happened with Eve and Adam himself is judged a "virtuous soul", after his human death. Not only that, but he affirms what brought him into Heaven is:

Vaggie: reading list "Act selfless, don't steal, stick it to the man." Are you fucking serious?

Except that Adam never once acts selflessly throughout the whole season. So, I wonder if an eternity spent being spoilt in Heaven made him worse.

In short, the things I am interested in when it comes to Adam are:

If and how Heaven has changed him

His relationship with Lucifer and Lilith (Eden + his pact with Lilith)

Let's now try to analyze Adam, starting with what we have in the series.

ADAM THE ANGEL

Adam: Call me, Dickmaster.

Adam is introduced as a powerful angel and a jerkass mysoginist. Both things are important, as they tie to different conflicts:

Adam is a genocidal maniac, who mistreats everyone. Still, he is considered a virtuous soul and holds some authority in Heaven.

Adam is "the man" and is shown discriminating and dismissive towards women. According to Charlie's recount in Overture, his mysoginy might be at the very root of the conflict behind the forbidden fruit and the birth of Hell.

These two sides of Adam come together in his interactions with Charlie, who is both a demon and a woman.

1- He dismisses Charlie's ideas of redemption in his song Hell is Forever, which is full of Christian references:

'Cause it's cut and dry Fair is fair, an eye for an eye And, when all's said and done (said and done) There's the question of fun And for those of us with divine ordainment Extermination is entertainment! Guitar solo, fuck yeah!

In general, he sees himself as superior to demons because he was judged worthy of Heaven. In his mind, this makes him automatically the "good guy", while people who exhibits virtues like Charlie or Angel are still beneath him, as they are demons. In short, he has a black and white mentality:

'Cause the rules are black and white There's no use in tryin' to fight it

2- He flirts with Charlie and calls her with sexist names:

Adam: I got you again, bitch! *laughs* Fuckin' hilarious!

Not only that, but his overall characterization highligths his sexism to hilarious degrees. Some examples:

His favourite food is ribs because Eve was born from one. So, it is as if he likes "eating women up"

He leads an army of hot and lethal women, who follow his orders in battle (classical male fantasy)

He gives Vaggie the name "Vagina" and calls it "the best thing ever"

So, Adam is a combination between a zealous religious fanatic and the patriarchy. All neatly tied up with jock imagery (his tunic resembles a letterman jacket). As a result, his interactions with Charlie explore two different power dynamics:

Heaven vs Hell or to better say Hell is Forever vs A Happy Day In Hell. Is Hell a place of eternal damnation or is it a chance of redemption?

Man vs Woman - Adam is far more childish and less intelligent than Charlie, but she has to kiss his butt because he is in a role of power. As it often happens in human society.

The question is: "How can such a person be worthy of Heaven?"

SERA THE MOTHER

Sera: I thought, since I'm older It's my load to shoulder

Sera is Adam's authority figure, as she is the only one Adam shows respect for. He asks for her validation and is ashamed after disappointing her. Considering Adam was created by the angels, it is easy to infer Sera is probably the closest thing he has to a mother. This also ties with Sera's overall role in the narrative, where she is framed as a parental figure to Emily and to the other angels and souls:

Not only that, but her parenting style seems rooted in the determination to protect those in her care, no matter what:

Sera: It is my position as the head Seraphim to protect our people at all costs.

Even if she has to lie to them:

I wanted to save you, the anguish it takes to Do what was required

Or if others end up hurt in the process:

Sera: Heaven needs us, Emily. Everyone looks to us… and we can't doubt ourselves or worry about the fates of demons when we have our own souls to protect.

She keeps Emily and the rest of Heaven in a Gilded Cage and chooses to exterminate the Sinners. In a sense, she too sees the world in black and white, just like Adam. Her loved ones. All the others. This attitude is present in her relationship with Adam too, as she enables him. Some examples:

She gives Adam permission to lead the exterminations. Even if Sera thinks killing Sinners is necessary, there is no reason to entrust it to Adam, who has a very obvious grudge against Lucifer.

He lets Adam boss around the exorcists and mistreat them. Like he did with Vaggie. In general, Sera gives him no rules, if not a generic "do not embarass me" one. And even then, Adam faces no consequence after he reveals the secret.

Sera is angry at Adam's cruelty towards Charlie and reproaches him for targeting the Hazbin Hotel. Still, this is all she does. She could have stopped Adam from attacking the hotel. And yet, she only makes a single remark.

In general, Sera gives Adam free reign and even fulfills all his cruellest requests. This is made clear during Charlie and Adam's questioning.

Since the beginning, Charlie is set up to lose and the seating arrangement shows it. Sera and Emily are at the very top, as they are the judges. Below them there is the jury and then there are the two sides. Still, Charlie and Adam are not at the same level. Adam is higher, while Charlie is at the very bottom.

Sera sustains Adam's petty objection:

Adam: Objection, lame and unoriginal. Sera: Sustained. No further dictionary references please.

But she is about to refuse Charlie's request and only agrees to it because of Emily:

Charlie: Angel will make good decisions, come on! We have to keep watching! Please? Sera: sighs Yeah, I don't know. Emily: Yeah, let's give him a chance. Sera: Very well, the court will allow it.

Finally, when Adam reveals Vaggie's secret (which is irrelevant to the matter at hand), Sera allows it to happen:

She is the one projecting Vaggie's angelic shadow on the wall. Once again she enables Adam's cruelty, instead of stopping it.

in short, Adam is a person who ascends to Heaven, but once there he spends millenias without anyone questioning or disagreeing with him. All his self-serving fantasies are fulfilled and he is never punished nor called out. As a result, he clearly becomes complacent and grows worse:

Lucifer: So, this is what you been up to since Eden? Gotta say, you've really let yourself go, buddy.

Lucifer's taunt mostly references Adam's physique. Still, this is metaphorically true for Adam's soul, as well. In the end, Adam regresses in Heaven, instead of evolving. Moreover, he never addresses nor solves the key event, which defined his life.

LUCIFER AND LILITH

Adam: You judging me? You're the most hated being in all of creation!

Adam's sense of self is clearly warped by what(ever) happened in Eden. Specifically, he is hurt that both his relationships with Lilith and Eve ended up badly (apparently). This is why:

He overcompensates by being overly masculine. He insists he is THE MAN and keeps blubbering about his love adventures. And yet, he has still no wife, that we know of.

He projects his own feelings on Lilith and Lucifer, to the point that thousands of years later, he chooses "messing their home", as his hobby. Specifically, he tries to steal Lilith away (through their deal) and to make Lucifer as miserable as possible ( which is why the King of Hell sends Charlie to meet Adam at the very beginning - he doesn't want to deal with the Exorcist).

This behavior is mirrored in how he treats the Princess of Hell too.

On the one hand Adam associates what he considers Charlie's positive traits with Lilith:

Adam: To think someone as worthless as you landed Lilith's little hottie. 'Grats on that I guess.

On the other hand Adam links what he believes to be Charlie's negative traits with Lucifer:

Adam: Risking your immortal life for sinners? That's some crazy shit, even for Lucifer's brat!

So, it is implied he still wants Lilith and despises Lucifer. These emotions are mirrored in his design, specifically his horned mask:

The horns ironically show that Adam was cheated on by (both?) his wife(s)

The horns give him a demonic-like appearance, which may be just another way Adam tries to appear more badass than what he is. All while trying to look more like a demon (Lucifer) to begin with

In other words, Adam is nothing, but a man scorned. Even moreso he is a person, who deep down could never really like himself. Hence why he chooses to wear a mask 24h/24h. Adam wants to be either a Demon or a God, but deep down he is just the Man. Ironically, this is what he could never truly accept about himself.

ADAM- A MAN

In the final fight, Adam is unmasked and we get a glimpse of his real self. What is he like? His design is far more average and human-like than other angels and demons. It is even inspired by his real voice actor, apparently. Why is that so? Because deep down Adam is no-one special. He is just a dude. He is the man. Not even that. He is a man. A person.

Sadly, though, he refuses this truth and tries to be more:

Adam: I started everything on Earth! All of mankind came from these fucking nuts! You all should be worshipping me, you ungrateful, disgusting, fucking losers-

He tries to be God and in this way he becomes worse than a Demon. He dies pathetically, after refusing mercy:

Adam: No… you don't get to end this! I'm fucking Adam! I'm the fucking man, and you're just some fucking clown or something!

He sees Lucifer as his enemy, but the King of Hell barely registers his presence and only considers him in relation to Charlie. His true opponent turns out to be a small woman of low status. And even she barely considers him as someone worthy of her attention.

And yet, Adam is still a man and he shows humanity in death:

Lute: NOOOO! Sir! Sir! Stay with me sir! ADAM!

Lute is his one genuine bond and probably the only person who earnestly makes him happy.

If only he could have pursued his humanity, he might have not turned into a monster. He might have developed a healthier sense of self and could have become happier. Instead, he could never love himself for being just a man and has spent eternity trying to be someone different.

HEAVEN ISN'T MEANT TO SUCK A LOT

Adam embodies the anti-theme.

Charlie thinks that everyone can redeem themselves:

Charlie: If I can show them the dream I've dreamed That any soul can change! Then they will know everyone can be redeemed From the evil to the strange!

Adam thinks nobody truly can:

'Cause Hell is forever Whether you like it or not Had their chance to behave better Now they boil in the pot

Charlie tries to grow into her own person:

Gotta come into my own Gotta come into my throne Gotta take charge and defend my only home

Adam turns himself into an idol:

The golden exorcists bring to mind the golden calf from the Bible.

Charlie thinks happiness and beauty can be found even in Hell:

I can hear all their stories The lost and displaced And I know that they're more of an acquired taste But if I open the door and I give them a place At my Hazbin Hotel It'll be a happy day in Hell!

Adam can't find happiness and beauty in Heaven and his only source of joy is knowing others suffer more than him:

Fuckin' Hell is forever And it's meant to suck a lot!

And yet, Hell might be meant to suck a lot, but Heaven shouldn't:

St. Peter and Emily: 'Cause every single day in Heaven is a happy day Welcome to Heaven

Still, Heaven could not make Adam happy. And if Heaven can't make its own people happy, then what is the point of such a Kingdom?

Sera: It's your position to keep them happy and joyful. Emily: How can I bring joy when I now know we are bringing misery to thousands of innocent people?

Adam is a character that embodies Heaven's problems, not only because he is an evil monster, but even moreso because he is an unhappy and unsatisfied man.

Here are my two cents on him :D We'll see if he comes back and manages to get some development!

Thank you for the ask!

[alpaca-clouds]

About Anarchism and Security

Alright, I promised @cofiandme to answer this, once I had time, so let me answer it now.

Quick quote of the question under yesterday's anarchism blog:

@cofiandme: Without prejudice and a genuine inquiry: If anarchism is "having no ruler" and, in theory, still have rules, who enforces these rules? Me: Society does. Basically the idea is that people are responsible for themselves and their community. (Additionally there is also the basic idea that humans are actually not inherently violent or anything, but are forced into violence through things like abuse and poverty.) @cofiandme: society? How so? Does that equate to morals and vague faculties? I too agree that men are not inherently evil, but I am pretty sure that they're self-centeredness (like what you've said, "people are responsible for themselves") will bring out self-interest, which is not necessarily evil but will inevitably result to some disputes, knowing resource limitness, scarcity, and all — how do anarchist society settle this? Within themselves too?

So, it has to be said at this point that we do not have any documentation of any large scale society, that lived by anarchist rules. While it stands to reason that those indigenous cultures that were basically living under a sort of anarchism when there was settler contact, those were often already quite descimated by the time it was documented. And modern anarchist communes rarely reach a size of more than a few hundred.

What I am trying to say: For the most part, we only have theory right now. But it should obviously noted, too, that we are only animals and surprisingly animals do manage to exist for the most part without murdering and raping members of their own species.

At the very, very basic level, anarchism assumes that people's nature is neutral, if not outright good. Because we have seen time and time again that whenever societal forces we have break down, people will help one another, rather than fight each other. Hence the assumption that people are neutral/good, but current systems are bad.

Before all else, we do need to break down the hierarchies of capitalism, by making sure that neither absurd riches, nor poverty should exist.

But also working at the abolishment of other hierarchical systems like the patriarchy and white supremacy. As well as create access to help networks for everyone. That includes especially healthcare - including mental healthcare.

Right now, most crimes are linked to poverty. Poverty forces people to commit crimes, and once people get into trouble with the law once (let's say for stealing food or selling drugs), there is a chance that this actually pushes them further into crime and violence. This is in fact more true, the harsher the anti-crime system of a country is. Hence: If you abolish poverty, you will already limit crime.

Then we have the other two big factors of crime: Hate-crimes and crimes commited out of mental health struggles. (Of course all the factors can be linked.) Working against discriminating structures would drastically limit the hate crimes. Mental health support the other.

So, why am I telling all that? Well, because it is basically the anarchist belief, that system changes would lower violent crime massively.

Now, let's get to the part with the rules.

A very, very basic assumption: Most people do not avoid violence against other humans because of laws, but because violence does actually feel bad.

But yes, society does need rules. So, instead of rules being unbending and only affected by a selected few, everyone gets to have a say about the rules, that would directly affect them. In old times and small communes, this usually happened/happens via a sort of townhall meeting, where everyone gets a chance to speak and then people cast their vote. If we had this as a system for a wider society, these processes would probably be digitalized. (There are a couple of other models/additions for this, that are possible for this, but the direct approach is technically the most anarchist.)

As for the enforcement: In general the anarchist idea is that punishment is not the way to go, but rehabilitation. And of course cops do bring so many issues with themselves... So basically the enforcement idea is, that everyone should be allowed to intervene, when violence happens. And that in general again the society as a whole should get a say in what happens with people - though generally never seeking punishment and rather a solution that aims for rehabilitation or, if that is not an option (like, you will probably not rehabilitate the nazi mass murderer), for security detainment.

And, see. The thing about "self-centeredness" is, that we as a society under late stage capitalism have one big issue: Our society is an individualist one. But this is actually counter to human nature. Humans are not individualist animals. We are social animals. A social rule that serves the many is in fact the one that best serves all the single beings within it.

/end long ramble

[rs-hawk]

Ok, i saw the god husband and disabled husband head cannon thingy you wrote and immediately had this idea. God husband patiently holding hubby's hands as they try and get him to walk, like full on comforting words, gentle massages to disabled hubby's legs after physical therapy, disabled hubby crying into god daddys chest, the whole shebang. Fluffy angst babe, FLUFFY ANGST

This is so cute!

Part One

You know you’ll never be able to walk unassisted again. At least, not for long periods of time. It doesn’t matter how hard you work because some things are just unable to be changed. You have to acknowledge how you have to give up things you’d taken for granted. Hiking. Camping. Soccer and tennis on the weekends. Hell, even just carrying two armloads full of groceries up the stairs.

You try not to let it bother you too much, and despite growing up to realize how toxic your parents and the Patriarchy are, you can still hear their voices in the back of your head.

You’ll never be a real man.

Real men don’t play the victim.

Suck it up like everyone else.

A real man wouldn’t let this stop him.

You have to swallow it down as much as you can because you don’t want your Husband to know how much it hurts you. You still struggle with saying His name in His native tongue (learning a whole new language is hard after all), so you’ve taken to calling Him 𐓀𐓘͘𐓻͘𐓘͘ or “Land”. Every time you call Him this, He grins. Green, cool lips spreading across His face as He looks over at you. The warmth and love in His eyes makes you flush slightly, but that only makes you find excuses to say His name.

He starts insisting that you start physical therapy. You cringe at the idea. You know it’s wrong. You know it’s not true… but you can’t help but feel like that’s admitting weakness to strangers. Surely you can handle this on your own, right? 𐓀𐓘͘𐓻͘𐓘͘ frowns each time you tell Him you don’t want to, or come up with an excuse to get out of it. Eventually you relent after noticing His leaves and flowers wilting. He immediately brightens up when you say you’ll go.

Of course He has to wait at home, but when you get back, He starts asking what exercises you should do at home. Is there anything He can help with? He’s so proud of you for taking this step. From then on you both have a routine of Him rubbing your legs and lower back before and after physical therapy. He also stops holding you in His lap so much (despite Him clearly still wanting to) because He understands you still want your independence.

Once you can start to walk somewhat, He holds your hands, letting you take small steps across your living room. He’s in full bloom, literally beaming with pride as you make it across the room for the first time. You chuckle and tell Him how cute He looks like that. You think you notice a darker green tint to His face. Is He blushing?

You think you’re making great progress, until you take a turn. Suddenly even standing makes you feel weak and your knees give out. Your doctor explains that this happens sometimes, but you could still start to improve again. It just depends.

That night you don’t even greet 𐓀𐓘͘𐓻͘𐓘͘ when you get home. He’s waiting for you excitedly, flowers tilting towards you as if you are His sun, but you brush it off, rolling past Him. You slam the bedroom door, pulling yourself into bed. You choke back a sob, but when He comes in and asks how you’re doing, you can’t hold it back anymore.

Fat tears roll down your face as you hiccup out that choked sob. His face is unreadable, and after a moment He wipes it off completely. He always does that when He’s upset. He curls up to you on the bed, His long legs hanging over the edge even as He curls around you, holding you to His chest. He presses the side of His head to the top of your head.

“Time and progress is such a human concept,” He whispers, sounding like the wind blowing through the trees. “Nothing is set in stone, even if it’s the only outcome anyone can see. Everything can be changed, but even if it’s beyond your means, it doesn’t mean that you have failed. You are more than just your present. You are your past and future as well. This moment isn’t the only one that exists. You live every moment at every point in your life. Your highest and lowest exist all at once.”

You sniffle, furrowing your brow. “What does that even mean?”

He still refuses to put on a face, but you can still tell that He’s looking at you when he cups your cheek. “You might feel like this is the lowest point for you, but I still see your best moments, even those yet to come.”

You wipe your face, as if trying to hide your tears. “Yet to come?”

Now is when He makes a face again, smiling softly as He brings those cool, green lips to yours. “Your happiest moment is yet to come. This is not your ending. It is a new beginning.”

[transtalesofdoom]

The Egg Years and being Cis-Adjacent

I originally made this blog to talk about my new and exciting trans experience, so let's go do that. Long post, obviously and I just figured out how to do the Keep Reading thing

I didn't have any inherent dysphoria growing up, I was just a bit of a not-like-other-girls tomboy. Jeans were comfier than dresses, boobs and bras were sooo inconvenient, make up just meant more effort. Books and video games were more fun than going out to party. I wasn't good at dancing anyway. And don't even get me started on shaving your legs.

It became obvious to me that I wasn't strictly cis pretty much as soon as I learned that gender wasn't binary. It was common sense, really. If gender is a spectrum, very few people would actually find themselves on the very end of either side. So most people were just close enough to either end of the spectrum to consider themselves cis. Including myself.

As my understanding of gender grew, it became more and more ridiculous to assume anyone was 100% cis. There's always some criterion you don't fully meet. Of course, people could still use and identify with the label of cis, clearly there was some sort of leeway. But calling myself cis started to feel wrong. It felt like I was ignoring the very nature of gender as a vast spectrum by picking a label rooted in the binary. I was cis, but in a queer way. I started calling myself cis-adjacent when talking to other queer people.

I never had a "problem" with my assigned gender at birth, outside of the patriarchy and sexism and periods, but those weren't trans reasons to resent being a woman. Being a woman suited me well enough. I wouldn't have cared if I wasn't, if I woke up one day without boobs, I'd just go on and fit into shirts much more easily. I considered "gender-apathetic" as a label, but ultimately it felt like too much hassle for something I was indifferent about.

Really, that was what it came down to. I was close enough to being cis, I didn't have any internal problems with calling myself a woman or living as one. Sure, there probably was something more accurate for me out there, but I knew about the struggles trans people faced. A good friend of mine had come out as trans and started his transition. I was happy for him, but I also got to see the difficulties it brought to update paperwork and book appointments and constantly emailing professors about your new name and pronouns. Not to mention the whole coming out to family thing. Or transphobia. There wasn't enough suffering in me to submit myself to this much effort and misery. Or force everyone in my life to learn a new set of pronouns and name for me, irrevocably changing every single relationship I had in the process. I didn't even want to be a man anyway. Just look a little more like one.

And I could easily present pretty masculine without transitioning. I only wore pants anyway. And hoodies were super comfy. I cut my hair short more than once. I considered buying a binder, just to see what that would do for me, but every time I tried looking into it, I just got overwhelmed and, like I said, there wasn't enough suffering to justify spending 50 bucks and at least one extensive research session on it. Ironically enough, during my last year as cis-adjacent, I finally reconnected with a part of my femininity and wore dresses to special occasions again.

However, a new problem had found my body: The unstoppable passage of time. I wasn't a perky teenager anymore. My body gained weight, my boobs succumbed to gravity, and I had very little in common with what was considered a beautiful woman. Even a beautiful butch woman didn't look like me. No one beautiful looked like me, really. I told myself that I had a lot of internalized misogyny and fatphobia to unlearn. That the reason I started disliking my reflection was social conditioning. I was right about that, of course. But there was more to it that I, in my self-righteous blaming of society, didn't acknowledge.

Until the last full moon night of 2023, when my mirror reflected a ghost back at me.

[misfithive]

Thank you for the way you handled that ask about Wille's and Simon's drama. Because that sentence 'On the other hand, Simon needs to have a bit of more drama thrown at him' made me so furious. It was so insensitive! The fact that he suffers in silence and alone in his room not to bother other people doesn't mean he doesn't suffer enough and needs some more! The fact that he didn't jump on the table or say he feels like dying doesn't make his experience any less traumatic than Wille's. What he needs is to process his trauma rather than brushing it aside, not to get some more.

Once again thank you, you put it all beautifully.

Yes 😭 this is a very common hope for Simon to get pushed to the point of a breakdown but it’s like .. at what cost?😩 He has been thru enough trauma for a lifetime and a half. And the thing is, most people cannot actually stop and process the trauma if they are constantly being hit with more. I think we are more likely to get simon opening up if he is able to find safety which he did not really have. he is expected to be the strong one by everyone in his life. His friends try their best but still, telling him to rebound is the same message him mother gives him of “you are strong”. Bc they dont want him to sit with his feelings and cry (it’s uncomfortable and not the norm for them), they want him to forget about the Prince and move on. Up until s3 he has not had someone to cry to- thats why he writes his songs and holds wille’s sweater. Even when he is talking to Rosh and Ayub in the kitchen if he was actually crying to them i feel they would show it- it appears he probably cried on the way home before they came (this is my hc if yall think he cried to them u can believe that if u want)

i think Simon’s character is very accurate to what a lot of men, people socialized as men, and also people of color experience and how we deal with our emotions. I get that for a lot of people it is cathartic to sob but for many of us, crying like that especially in front of someone else is terrifying. we are conditioned that letting other people see u in that vulnerable state is a weakness (puts you in danger or will be used against you & that anger is safer). I know some men who have not cried since they were children and told me they dont even remember what it feels like to cry or how to actually let the tears fall from their eyes. It is messed up. Is that fair? No. Is it true that it is a weakness? No. But not everyone learns that. The patriarchy sucks and harms us all lol i wish people would understand that and have empathy for the deep sadness that simon is carrying and hiding whether he lets it out or not.

Not to mention everyone deals with their trauma differently and i think it is cool that the show is realistic and shows people dealing with things in different ways. Simons character is relatable bc of this and instead of people saying “it’s not fair that Wille gets to express himself in this way and Simon doesn’t” i want people to think about WHY Simon is not be able to. I know wanting simon to cry comes from a good place but it does upset me a little bit bc even if he doesnt have a breakdown s3, that doesnt mean that the writers hate him and arent doing his story justice which is what people say abt s2. At the same time, if he does have a break down, that would be totally warranted. i'm just saying that if it doesn't happen that's valid too.

THAT BEING SAID. I think s3 is a great opportunity for Simon to hear from Wille that he doesnt always have to be strong and that Wille can be a reliable safe space. I think Wille’s tenderness is something that Simon sees and now that they are on good terms and Wille has worked to rebuild the trust, I hope Simon will turn to Wille for emotional support however that looks.

Ermmmn I’m very sorry that this turned into a dump but i had to get it off my chest.(made a few edits for clarity and spelling mistakes bc i posted this in the middle of the night)

[angeleirene]

I’ve been watching Barbie again, it’s been a day, and I’m gonna let myself get melancholy for a second.

Y’all remember Kate McKinnon’s ‘Weird Barbie’? Cause I fucking love and relate to her.

According to their Barbie lore, she was the most beautiful Barbie till a kid played too hard with her. Her hair was cut, burnt. Her face scratched and painted on. Her legs stretched to the extremes, till she’s almost always in the splits. As a result she was then ostracised from her community, from Barbieland. She lives alone in the mountain, she has no roles in the community, she barely comes down to town because as the Barbies said: you have to GO see weird Barbie, she doesn’t come over.

They call her ‘Weird Barbie’ both behind her back and also to her face. Stereotypical Barbie is derisive of her, she screams at the mere prospect of turning out like Weird Barbie. And then later on, she legit says “I’m just like you now, Ugly and Unwanted”, AT her. By literally all accounts she’s an outcast.

And you you what I fucking love about that? She doesn’t resent them. I’m fact, she doesn’t love them any less.

Much like how her being ‘Weird Barbie’ is common knowledge to the Barbies, It’s also common knowledge that when you’re malfunctioning or having trouble you go to Weird Barbie for help. They almost expect to receive it, which suggests she’s never actually turned anyone down from asking.

Then we see her interact with our Barbie, with Stereotypical Barbie and she’s no less loving. Margot arrives and she immediately welcomes her in, she listens to her problem. She’s kind and loving, uses affectionate terms (sidenote, she’s rekindled my love for the term BabyGirl), as well as actively using her knowledge and experience to help Margot full force. Also offers her the illusion of choice just to make the decision easier on Margot, more than once, to make the experience easier.

Even when Barbie screams in her face at the idea that they’d ever be the same or similar, she doesn’t get angry or defensive. She just frowns at the reality of others thoughts about her, but even takes the brunt of the blame from Margot “nah, I set myself up for that one”. Furthermore when they part, she tenderly holds Margot’s chin, wishing her luck, telling her “I Love You”.

She was worried, loved and believed in Barbie.

Then the Patriarchy happens and she doubles down. She goes full pink jumpsuit lesbian guerrilla warrior, she picks up Margot during her existential crisis and houses her, tries to help her, even if she couldn’t find an answer herself. Then America Ferrera, Sasha and Allen arrive and HOLY SHIT WE LEARN SO MUCH!

- She welcomes them in too, just as happy and without a hint of resentment or worry!

- She’s HOUSING THE DISCONTINUED TOYS! Sugar Daddy Ken! Magic Earring Ken! Skipper! Barbie Video Girl! Everyone else who’s been truly outcasted and practically exiled from Barbieland she jumped at the chance to house and protect!

- Even Nobel Prize winning Barbie she grabbed and tried everything she could to help her! To help all of them! The second the Patriarchy arrived she wasted no time to try and deprogram the Barbies and protect them from literal hell!

AND SHE DID! WITHOUT ANY EXPECTATION OF THANKS, OR APPRECIATION! She did so with the sole explicit hope of protecting a community of women she loved, irregardless of wether or not they loved her.

Ultimately she did get some of the desperately deserved attention she more than had earned, but she would’ve done it regardless. It leaves us with the character of a woman, who’s been hurt by extenuating circumstances way beyond her control (she was being played with), and who much like in real life, was excommunicated for the scars that said situation left. The movie doesn’t treat “being played with too hard” as trauma, but the parallel is there.

A woman who was hurt and scarred by her life experiences, which made her something different than what her society expected or accepted of her. She’s someone who’s learnt hard truths; Cellulite, nudity, pain, the patriarchy, etc. she is the wisest of them all in that sense, and who knows how much of that came from the trauma, or how much of that she learnt just to be able to help her community. Who knows how much she made her house, collected her knowledge, and built her maps and resources just to help other Barbies that might go through something similar, help them handle it better than she could.

I’m trying to verbalise it and it frustrates me that I can’t do it in a way that doesn’t feel circular but holy fudge nuggets is that both cool and heavy.

And while I can’t pretend I’ve suffered much, or been as blatantly and brutally treated as her, I do relate on some level. I’m in my early 20s (not gonna give specific age cause online) and I’ve always felt and been an outcast. Gay progressive atheist from a Christocatholic conservative Latin American country to start. Starting to build a life in my birth city and then moved at age 4. Everyone else’s families knew each other better, or longer.

Bullied ages 5 to 11. At the time it really didn’t register, and to some extent I still don’t let harassment get to me, but in reflection it was. Fuck I had to be sent on errands for the teacher once just so my entire class could get a talk on bullying and harassment and to not to. Guess who was the elephant in the room but not in the room. 7/8 year olds spill secrets easy. Then we moved again, 14k kilometres away.

Now it was a new continent, a new language. I spent 6 months in one school before moving to the next one, then another year and a half before changing programs from an English intensive program to just basic High School. Then Uni. And to add to all of that, while undiagnosed because it’s expensive, the odds I’m neurodivergent are a coin’s toss or better. And at every stage it’s felt like I’m just watching other people have friendships, through an invisible wall, trying hard to connect to them but somehow never managing.

I was the type of kid and am the type of person that’s very much touch starved, yet fucking terrified of initiating contact because if I do and it’s rejected, then It becomes clear I’m unwanted. So not doing so and keeping the mystery keeps up the hope. The type of person who sees and saw a birthday invitation as a gift in it of itself, specially if not everyone in the class was invited because then maybe I wasn’t a pity invite. Maybe then I was invited because I’m wanted, not because everyone’s invited and it would be rude to exclude me.

Yet who also is terrified of throwing a birthday party and hasn’t had one since I was 11 for a myriad of reasons: Maybe someone I thought was a friend isnt and they make it known then. Or maybe other people see the weirdo I am and leave. Or maybe because my family’s never exactly been well off, but most others were. And so I’d see other kid’s birthdays with balloons, custom cakes, party favours up the walls, games, etc. and yet who’s last birthday party consisted of a soccer ball, a grocery store cake, and bootleg video games (Latin America). And who now sees people my age throw parties in private hotel event rooms, with party buses, bar tabs in the 4 digits, tailor made cakes and special outfits for the day, while that alone would destroy my family financially. Doesn’t help that I managed to get into a Uni course packed with the loaded rich kids.

So there’s so much shame to everything, to being different, to being less, where there really shouldn’t be. So much fear of being seen, yet a desperate want to be held. And so much guilt to even make these feelings known to the people I care about because my emotional problems shouldn’t become theirs. My parents did and do that with me, but that’s a whole different rant. To the point I’m writing and posting this almost with the goal of screaming into the void where nobody can hear it, but with the hope maybe someone does.

And on the same note that I kind of relate to weird Barbie I also admire her. I admire her strength upon adversity, I admire her unconditional love to the other Barbies, and I admire how hard she tries to help everyone else. Another aspect I’m right now paralleling with my degree, hoping that maybe since I understand some of this pain, I can meet others with similar experiences and tell them all the things I wish someone told me. To give them all the things that I’m trying to give myself. That maybe if I am broken, I can make sure they’re not.

This post doesn’t really have a conclusion, just that Weird Barbie is fucking amazing and we all both need a Weird Barbie in our lives, but also remember that Weird Barbie has feelings too, and she deserves to be heard, deserves to be loved too.

[exauhstedsunflower]

I dont even have real thoughts. Just,

When I was 10/11 and forced myself to move on from playing with my Barbie’s because I was exposed to society and growing up and it seemed like something I had to do. Going back for my dolls one day after months deciding I needed to do something I loved only to find out my mom threw them away because I stopped playing with them. Being devastated. This reinforcing that there is something wrong with me because I shouldn’t want to play with dolls anymore anyway. The barbie movie not quite healing that wound but softening the blow when I think about it now.

Getting my nails done in hot pink every time at 12 and then at 13 getting them in blue. Painting my nails pink two weeks ago because I was excited about the barbie move and feeling at peace.

Seeing my best friend since I was 9 in pink for the first time in I cant even remember and us both feeling nostalgic and free and beautiful.

Me being 14 and my brother being 11 and him discovering the patriarchy. Him making sexist jokes. Me screaming at him. My grandmother laughing at us fighting. Me crying about it to this day, even though I’m 22my brother is now 19 and nothing like that anymore. Me seeing myself in Barbie and my brother in ken as they grow apart and then back together. Realizing that even though Ken hurt Barbie, barbie is the one to tell him its ok in the end. Ken not apologizing. Seeing us in them once again and feeling an ache in my chest.

Wanting to watch the scene where Barbie says she doesn’t feel pretty anymore and why she doesn’t feel pretty. Why she doesn’t feel like who she is supposed to be. Her face. My face as I start crying. My heart breaking as I realize that I have felt that, and that if its being portrayed here that it’s a universal experience to have that breakdown, to have a friend say ‘you are beautiful, you are enough. You’re not wrong, the world is.’, to not believe them fully, though you do accept that they’re probably right. The fact that she’s not wearing makeup in that scene. She’s broken down into her barest form, and her barest form is wrecked because the world has fucked her up and made her think she’s not enough.

Barbie panicking as Mattel tries to literally put her in a box. The people that are technically responsible for her, the people who she believes will help her, are not only not who she thought they would be, but they try to put her back in a box. Her not being able to be put back into a box. She knows too much now. She’s seen and felt and thought too much. She can’t be what they want her to be even when they try to force her. Impossible standards not even ending with people you’re meant to trust. Barbie being alone in that moment. Barbie finding a friend who gets it and not being alone anymore. Barbie not realizing that until the friend refuses to let her drown. The friendships that women make under the pressure of the world being something so beautiful and heartbreaking and necessary.

Sasha being exposed to something good and nice in pink for once instead of something hating on whatever the pink thing is and slowly smiling more, becoming herself. How this exposure can help young girls so much. Before this not only hurting herself by distancing herself from her mom and feminism but also hurting other women in the face of the pain society has slowly caused her because she has given up on herself and on society the way society has given up on her and itself.

in the end, Barbie not even advocating for herself even after everything she’s learned about feminism and what the world with do to women who let it swallow them whole. Sasha, who previously was not much of a girls girl, being the one to say “What about Barbie?” Everyone saying “Yeah, actually, what about Barbie?” Because she deserves a happy ending too. Barbie was standing in the back and out of the way not only in this scene but in most of the ending scenes actually, which is a wonderful portrayal of what all of these things that have happened to Barbie can do to a woman, regardless of how strong or empowered she was or may have seemed. Barbie, the main character of the movie, becoming quiet and contemplative and unsure, and relegating herself to the background because of all of this. Barbie being surprised to see people wanting something good for her. Barbie not knowing what she wants. Barbie absolutely knowing what she wants the whole movie but dancing around it because as a woman you are put in a box and you’re not supposed to say what you want. Even as a barbie. (“I have never wanted anything to change!” “I only ever wanted things to stay the same!” “I don’t know what I want anymore.”) but “It takes two to open a portal.” And so many more sly comments about how Barbie caused all this too. Barbie not even being proud of her accomplishments by the ending when they’re in the void. Ruth only figuring out What Barbie wants because of a comment, a self effacing comment. Barbie asking permission to be herself. She’s been affected negatively by the world, and yet is choosing to live in it anyway. As are the women of the world. Barbie didn’t need permission. But she asked anyway, she probably wouldn’t have done it is Ruth said no. If anyone had protested at all. Because as a woman she is self sacrificing and making sure everyone is ok with things before doing it. Ruth not showing Barbie life as a woman in the end, because Barbie already knows what that’s like. She’s not asking to be a woman, she is a woman, she’s asking to be human, for which life is nuanced and beautiful. As is being a woman, though in very different ways.

[bredforloyalty]

it would fix them because. i changed my mind hear me out .. fix in the sense that, you have the father who feels trapped by the family he didn't plan to have and who couldn't explore his attraction to men in peace and on his own terms due to the circumstances and whose rigid ideas of masculinity and insistence on playing by the rules and preserving the status quo ("man is the head of the family. i can win life if i just perform these roles well and shove the rest under the rug. this will surely work out fine for me and mine") clearly stopped him from being happy and ruined other lives like for example his son's. he got the baggage from his dad too btw naturally and my philosophy is that people improve when they get external love and validation so far be it from me to hold it against them when they don't and i will gladly extend that to everything so i am just saying that i intend to avoid double standards here.. because everybody hurts everybody has their reasons everybody also chooses to be the way they are. anyway then you have the son who learned way too young that his father's tendencies and said khm attitudes to gender and social roles and life in general combine to make the fun little sexual habit of dominating and hurting mainly young boys and trans women (and filming it without their consent of course) so you see there's the implicit sexual terror, and there's nate knowing men are animals and that would mean he is one too which is a problem on its own but every other animal is a threat as well and you can never let your guard down because then you'll be the one getting eaten. so you have to eat. that is the traditional man's world. probably not a very solid base for developing normal self-esteem and a personality that isn't destructive, outward Or inward, not a very supportive home in that sense. and there is affection and loyalty at home ((to an extent)) but if you live like that, live and raise kids by those rules, they're never gonna feel secure because once you fail to live up to the expectations you're on your own. and they're unrealistic so you'll never be enough. tilting at windmills. know what i mean? no son of mine will wander astray (abomination), don't come running to me . when they're coming for you. desert by brand new sound of the summer (again). so there's the family as this cage where gay sexuality isn't allowed to exist or rather it is but only in the form of men violating other men (inherent to patriarchy) and so you have the kid who's terrified of having dad's other side turned towards him who actually does feel unloved and doesn't want his mother to wonder when he "darkened" or see him as a ticking bomb and does want to please his father and does want to belong, and doesn't want his parents to think of him as a failure. i am not talking conscious wants necessarily it's just that people are people and we're social creatures and we would die without love and i don't think this is an instance of a character being written as rotten to the core and incapable of having those same needs everyone has. and i don't think that would be compelling anyway so these are my assumptions. And he also struggles with sexuality away from the family and with fitting into the hetero box and that is a mix of society's fault and the fault of upbringing. so you see there is the innate need for connection that isn't being met (both in cal and nate i mean) and a possibility for catharsis in many ways. now what if this situation could be two birds one stoned

[wishiwaspretty]

I am remaking my intro post.

Hello, you can call me Nancy (NOT my real name). I'm 18 years old and I use she/her pronouns (but I'm really not picky with what people call me).

Short ED History:

I've been insecure of my body for a pretty long time, but I only started have disordered eating patterns the fall of my Junior year of High School. I am now a Senior. When I first started I was ~121 lbs and I got down to a much lower weight pretty quickly. But, now I'm a lot heavier. I really enjoy invalidating my emotions also so I don't really say/think I have anorexia (I binge too much ��), but I definitely have "disordered eating".

Stats: AFAB 5'6" or 168 cm HW: Low 140 lbs LW: 114.3 lbs CW: 127.2 lbs GW1: 127.5 lbs ✅ GW2: 125 lbs GW3: 122.5 lbs GW4: 120 lbs GW5: 117.5 lbs GW6: 115 lbs

Motivation: -On March 7, I get out of school for Spring Break. I am going to the beach with three of my closest friends (kind of going all out for Senior Spring Break). I will be under 125 lbs by then (hopefully much lower). -Whenever I go to college, I NEED to be thin. This is not a want. It is a need. -There's also kind of this guy I've liked for a long time?? Idk, I'm not REALLY the type to starve for a man (fight the patriarchy!!!! 🤬🤬), but if I'm trying to scrape together motivation, there's some. -Long hair. Skinny arms. Flat stomach. Elegant thighs. Sharp jawline. Loose ponytail. Sparkling eyes. Waterfalls and rainbows and running through fields without fat to hold me back.

Strategies (basically just stuff I do/am going to start doing to try to keep this up): 1. Whenever I first started this and lost so much weight, I kept a journal every night to physically write out what I ate. I am going to start doing that again AND I will post a picture to show what I have eaten every day. 2. I will post on tumblr once a day. Reblogging someone else does not count, I need to make my own original content. 3. I will liquid fast every day until dinner. Coffee in the morning, and maybe tea/diet dr. pepper at lunch or after school. I will try to only have tea OR diet dr. pepper to save my teeth (I've already got weak enamel, this isn't going to help lmao). 4. I don't care how much I've eaten, I don't care how awful I feel, I will never, EVER purge. This includes using laxatives. Obviously none of what I'm doing is healthy, but I want to do this as 'healthily' as I can. 5. Read more!!!! Read read read read read. If I'm reading I'm not eating. :)) 6. No doom scrolling. This includes Tumblr. I can check in but I can't spend TOO long on here just scrolling.

Random Stuff: -My blog is a safe space for everyone besides bigots <33 -I do NOT support fatspo. Let those beautiful happy and, yes, fat people live in peace. Jeez. -I think I'm pansexual. Maybe. Probably. -I love nature and being outside sm. I love (almost) all animals. I love the sun. -I HATE feeling cold with a passion, lmao. Which is kinda funny because starving makes you feel colder 🫠 -In college I think I'm going to pursue a degree in biology and then veterinary science, and then try to open my own veterinary clinic. -I'm Greg (*coughDannyGonzalesfanswhereyouatcough*) -I'm Christian but I PROMISE I'm not the bigot kind I promisssseeeeeee 🙏 -I do weight lifting. I couldn't tell you why, I just do. It's REALLY not a good combination with ana, the amount of times I've been benching and almost dropped the weight on my rib cage... It's not even funny anymore 😔 -I've struggled with self harm in the past, but I'M ABOUT TO BE ONE YEAR CLEAN!!!!! -I LOVE FAIRY TALES!!!! Omg fantasy, omg JRR Tolkien, omg A.A. Milne (he's not exactly fantasy but you knowww. love winnie the pooh). To clarify, I don't like the fantasy books where it's just a barely-passing story laid over smut. Sex scenes CAN be tastefully done and make sense with the story but so often it's just like... ew. No. -Book recs: The Thorns Remain (I could DIE it's so freaking good omllllll), The Last Hour Between Worlds, The Familiar, Caraval, Six of Crows, The School for Good and Evil (Sophie my LOVE), Twilight (never actually finished the series tho smh), The Wind in the Willows (love these little guys sm), ASH PRINCESS, The House on Pooh Corner. -Currently reading: Anna Karenina, Godkiller

**Eating disorders are very serious and I would not wish this on anyone. As the saying goes, this account is 'pro for me, not for thee'. Please get out while you still can. Recovery will always be waiting for you. It is never too late. Love y'all <33**

[luckhaver]

I finally saw Barbie for the first time. Was no one going to tell me that, metaphorically, the movie accidentally supported the patriarchy with its own metaphor?

Like, I’m not invalidating or criticizing the individual points they made during the movie. The social commentary Barbie made in each scene was on point and pretty great. The movie has a lot of fun and heart to it, too - it kept reminding me of Looney Tunes back in action. I watched it with a smile.

What’s driving me crazy though, is by the metaphor Barbie makes out loud in the movie, it completely invalidates its own point with its story structure! Let me explain before you think I’m off my rocker.

Barbieland is stated to be a mirror of the real world. In that, Barbieland is a historical and current matriarchy instead of a historical and current patriarchy. So for clarity, in each the real world and Barbieland, there is an In-Power (IP) group and a Without-Power (WP) group. Barbieland is actually implied to be slightly worse than the real world at the beginning of the movie, as it’s more akin to the 1950s housewives era. In that, the IP group has all the political, economic, and material wealth where the WP has nothing.

So far, so good. It’s an excellent commentary angle to explore. I’m on board.

Where the metaphor falls apart is that the WP group starts an uprising and movement for more rights. Since Barbieland is basically the 1950s, this movement can be immediately be paralleled to the feminist movement or the civil rights movement of the 60s/70s. And this is where Barbie fails: it paints Barbieland’s in-universe rights movement as a bad thing.

The IP group spends the rest of the movie tearing down the WP group’s progress. In the end, the IP group’s status quo is restored and the WP group is left once again without anything. And this painted as a good thing! In fact, the WP is now only allowed self-worth - not monetary, economic, or political worth. What’s worse, is that the WP group is no longer allowed external worth as a viable avenue either. If you imagine this group as any other real-life group, you can see the issue. They want the WP group to be content with their lot without complaints, find meaning in themselves and their community only, and basically be “not seen nor heard.”

And when the IP group is restored, this isn’t painted as a tongue-in-cheek reflection of the current off-balance of the real world. (Now, I’m not sure that was the original intent - as there are elements of that direction in dialogue.) The tone of the entire ending is victory, where the “rightful rulers return to the throne.” The movie unintentionally argues that it is morally correct for the IP group to stay in power and morally correct for the WP group to stay without.

Essentially, Barbie - by its own metaphor - validates any “-archy”s as good forms of world states. By saying the Barbieland matriarchy is valid, then by extension the real world patriarchy is valid, too.

Now, the movie didn’t HAVE to have made that choice. Instead, they could have torn down the matriarchy in Barbieland and created an equitable state where everyone was equal. Or, they could have had the same ending but painted it as NOT a good thing - instead, as something to be fixed. But rather than either of those options, they took the most insane route possible and said, “an oppressive state is a good ending and a good thing, actually.”

What drives me even more crazy is that I’m not reading into it. This is literally the metaphor that the film makes out loud many times.

I don’t want to come off as some right wing incel, here. Again, I thought the movie makes great individual and valid points. I just found that the writing was done in such a way that it unintentionally undermined itself.

I enjoyed it, though. I rate it 9/10.

[rainydaystudios]

C!Technoblade headcanons to honor his pass. (o7 king we all miss you.)

Technoblade would always style his hair in many different ways, his favorite being braids among space buns, anything to do with flowers in his hair and some Melanie Martinez esc crap.

He plays violin, but he never mastered playing fire on the mountain. It was just too fast for him.

He had trouble reading, not like the text would be blurry more like he couldn’t process words properly, but he didn’t let that bother him and he still read a lot. (Kinda like me lmao)

Technos hair is naturally curly.

Techno is extremely protective over the SBI including Ranboo.

As we all know, many people style Techno as a human being more traditionally feminine, this has led me to think that him canonically appearing this way is just another way to say f-ck the government and patriarchy by dressing feminine despite leading anarchist groups and being extremely strong and powerful.

Techno loves flowers. He lives in the arctic, where flowers are hard to grow so instead he keeps a little flower in a pot alive.

Techno is an extreme gossip girl for fun. He probably has tons of blackmail against so many people.

Techno actually has a small soft spot for children, not orphans, but I like to think that he would walk around with Tommy when he was little like he was his own and would completely cherish Michael.

Techno likes putting out a really strong exterior, as we know, but he really likes hugs for some odd reason. He keeps that an extreme secret. He’ll just randomly go up to Phil and hug him.

Techno likes to draw, it’s a way he blocks out the voices but a way he also just enjoys it.

Techno has an extreme fear of spiders. Like he would walk into a room and see a tiny little spider and freak the hell out, and everyone would come running in thinking he was dead but really it was just a spider and nobody is going to let him live it down. (This was inspired by another person)

Techno has a fear of heights. I dunno why, it just suits him.

At one point him and Wilbur started a band on the SMP and they were called, ‘The Disciples’ and they made a few emo songs before dis-banding.

Techno definitely wore a dress one time and liked it but wou.d never admit to it.

He went to a party once was a totally a party animal, but he got scared of it so he never went to one again.

fly high king!!!

[kebriones]

What are some myths you want to debunk about the Maniots? I am interested in it, mainly because the general image that most non-Maniots Greeks (like me) have about the Maniots are:

War-like people

Vendettas, VENDETTAS everywhere

Completely old-fashioned (to put it lightly) on their ideologies and the way they treat women

i am not sure there are many myths to debunk hahahshdfjhs most things are true, just in a more nuanced way, and no my dad doesn't shoot people who so much as look at his daughters, even though the joke is made at least once every family gathering. But of course, most stereotypes do not apply to people born in and after the 80s as populations are mignling a lot more and the cultural exchange means the extremes have gotten evened out.

Details about the points you mentioned under the cut:

-Well, war-like was a thing 200 years ago. The need for that no longer exists, and having met both older cretans and maniots, I would say the maniots are a lot more chill than cretans, when it comes to their love for guns and other weapons. But even until my parent's generation, the "you can go out naked but not without a knife" mindset sometimes pops up.

Something interesting to note is that when many people left mani in search for work and came to athens, after initially settling down at pireus and working the hardest jobs around the port, the clan mindset kicked in and they formed notorious mafia-like groups. -The vendettas were very real and very prominent, but that practice ended before the 20th century, mostly thanks to the state starting to get involved to stop people slaughtering each other. However, my family which comes from some of the most backwater, godforsaken, isolated little villages, has at least one convicted murderer (who I have met after he came out of prison, everyone was chill with him), my grandad who planned a double homicide (for a matter of family honor, he told my grandma and she went and told the police, but then he was let go with a warning lol) and an uncle who came very close to killing someone as well. So yeah murders for honor were, up until recently, a thing.

(moving on to the next section I must say I did my very best to explain things but sometimes I struggle a lot to understand all the convoluted social and political stuff because so much of it is human stupidity piled onto itself for generations but I also had to make an attempt to sort of explain, hopefully it makes some sort of sense)

-Yes, again, with older generations, the traditional patriarchy-based views about women were usually the norm. But having met people from all over greece, I can't say that maniots now are more or less sexist than others. Treating women with respect, even though the men were considered the family's leaders, was a matter of honor, when it came to their traditional morals. It's all a very strange mixture of "if my sister marries someone I don't approve of I will kill her and her spouse" and "if my son harasses or hurts a girl I will cut off his hands myself". Conversely, almost all the older maniot women i've met are very fierce, outspoken and free-spirited.

(Also, when talking about completely isolated maniot communities like the village my paternal grandfather grew up in, things were worse than you can imagine. My dad describes them as living in a semi-wild state, and there is no nice polite way to put things such as incest being a regular thing amongst all family members, very few knowing how to read and write, or only washing yourself once every few months. Some villages in mani only got electricity, water and roads in the 80s.)

When it comes to extreme conservative political views, unfortunately the numbers showing this isn't an unfair stereotype are there, even though I am obligated to say i know enough maniots who are progressive enough, and my grandad was a sworn communist.

There's a very convoluted way so many maniots ended up supporting fascists and i'm not a historian so I struggle to explain it in a way that makes sense. but basically, mani has been for centuries very difficult to intergrate into anything new, because of how crazy closed off they have always been. They were, for example, the last people in greece to become christians by a significant time margin. It took them until at least the late 900s to let go of the old religion. All throughout the centuries that followed, mani was just a poor isolated place nobody cared to mess with. It was too much trouble for a place that had nothing to offer. So this sense of us vs outsiders, the attachment to their identity, combined with the extreme poverty they faced and the attempts from the government's side since very early on to intergrate them and stop them from causing touble etc somehow led to this situation now. Becoming overly conservative and obsessed with tradition and stuff was how they felt like they safeguarded their cultural identity, even if in reality through that they lost touch with their free spirited, piracy loving ancestors. It is quite sad.

When it comes to stereotypes which I think are true even for people at my age, it's the "don't speak much". Like my parents have beaten this into me my whole life. You must always remember to speak as little as possible, not for lack of having things to say, but because that's just considered sensible and proper behavior. Also the idea that you must protect the family and put it before anything else is still well and strong, in the case of my family to a frankly catastrophic degree.

[kyndaris]

Whole Again - Part 1

This short story is a sequel to one I wrote a couple of years back. called Splintered. During that time, I was struggling with a lot of things including the fact I never truly presented my whole self to others but only certain facets.

I've come to realise, however, that just because I don't bring my whole self into a conversation doesn't mean it's a fake personality I've conjured. It is still me.

There is a time and place for everything.

While not everyone may appreciate Chaos Gremlin Kyndaris, maybe some others will. Then again, there is Work Kyndaris and Eager Gamer Kyndaris. Dutiful Daughter Kyndaris and Exhausted Caregiver Kyndaris.

Humans are multifaceted. In this day and age where we try and label everything, is it any wonder so many are trying to seek their 'true selves' only to stumble because they've not realised the whole of who they are is a complex contradictory mess?

So many things have been relegated to black and white, it's become impossible to see the nuance of who people are.

With that, I hope you enjoy this first part of my short story: Whole Again.

Life as I knew it changed when I graduated from Seven Oak High. At college, there was a whole new host of challenges I needed to weave my way through and I realised the old masks I’d worn to get me through high school were no longer fit for purpose.

Gone was mean-girl queen-bee Trish. Her actions and behaviour wouldn’t have worked under the watchful eye of the sorority den mother in charge of my dormitory.

Pat, on the other hand, stepped up to fill the void. But instead of being the meek and dutiful student and daughter, she had taken on several more facets of who I was. There was a new spring to her step. A confidence that exuded from putting my hand up for several campus causes.

Suddenly, everything was all new and fresh again and I had to adapt once more.

From the remains of Pat and Trish emerged Patsy.

No longer was I a leader so much as another cog in the fight against oppression and the patriarchy. All the energy I poured into becoming Queen Bee was now put into healthier pursuits as I railed against a slew of social injustices.

And yet a part of me still missed hanging out with my friends, Naomi and Evangeline (although they both ended up going to different universities than me), I was still a version of Trish. But this time I could let my guard down a little. Show off a little bit of the real ‘me’ lurking beneath the mask I had worn.

They deserved it, after all. Especially after the pain and terror we had all endured at the hands of Amelia last year.

After all, if it hadn’t been for the Evangeline and her boyfriend, Michael Sanchez, there was every chance I might not be standing here at all.

And thus, Tricia was born to serve as a dorkier and less catty version of Trish. Tricia was about having fun, with a focus on nostalgia.

Was it what Amelia had wanted for me? No. But given that she was in a juvenile detention centre and mandated to see a court-appointed psychiatrist every week to deal with whatever was wrong with her, I doubted her opinion mattered much.

Not that she put much stock in therapy.

In her mind, she was the least crazy of us all. Rather, it was the entire world that was mad as we catered to society’s expectations of who and what we were. Better, she had told me while holding a knife, to be our truest and authentic selves. Whatever that meant.

The first time I’d visited her at the detention centre, she hadn’t seemed surprised when she came out. Rather, there had been a knowing smile on her face as she sat down. We stared at each other for a few minutes.

But as I struggled to find the words I wanted to say, Amelia motioned to her guard and whispered something into their ear. Before I could stop her, she had risen to her feet and left.

I was left sitting at the table, alone. And for the longest time, I didn’t know if I wanted to leave or stay. Hell, I didn’t know why I’d come to see her in the first place.

Maybe I wanted closure. Or maybe I wanted to see the person still haunting me in my nightmares and know she couldn’t hurt me anymore.

Whatever the reason, I was left with a roiling churning maelstrom of emotions in my gut. None of which I could decipher.

In the end, one of the guards had to escort me out.

Still, despite that, I came to visit her again. And again. And again.

Amelia was a mystery. One I wanted to solve.

From all accounts, before the incident at her old school, she had been just like me. Except, perhaps, more outstanding. She was smart, athletic and didn’t shy away from the arts either. She was a triple-threat student.

But something had happened in the summer of 2018. One that had seen her thrown out of her prestigious school and enrol at Seven Oaks High instead. The word on the street was it was an altercation with another student though the details were hazy.

What kept me up most nights was the fear I might turn into her. Or a version of her.

The fear and anger and hurt I’d repressed all throughout middle school and high school had coalesced into something frightening. I wouldn’t call it a personality exactly. Nor was it a facet of who I was. Not really.

Just an impulse. A voice in my head wishing ill on others or asking me to do something cruel and mean and demeaning.

It sometimes came out as Trish, but only if I ever felt threatened.

Trish, as a mask I wore, was created from an amalgamation of mean girls from teen movies. The stereotypical queen bee who often got their comeuppance by the end of the film. She was meant to be all bark and no bite. A harmless stereotype most people forgot because it wasn’t who I really was and nobody at Seven Oaks High really cared much for.

Except, of course, Amelia had brought out a side of me that was petty and jealous and actually hurtful because I couldn’t stand how effortlessly she made friends with any and all cliches. There was no artifice to her.

She was everything I wanted to be but couldn’t.

And that was why I hated her.

Or I would have if, by the third time I’d visited her, the façade she had of being above it all hadn’t begun to slip. Behind all the bravado she had projected during my first visit, Amelia was scared.

She knew she had done something wrong but she hadn’t quite grasped the extent of her actions.

Still, even though I could be more ‘myself’ when I was with Evangeline and Naomi, it was with Amelia I could truly be the entirety of Patricia.

“So, tell me about college. What are you studying? Doing anything fun?”

“There’s not much to tell. Just a lot of courses and assignments and projects. I’ve signed up to help protest sexual harassment on campus and I’ve joined two clubs, one’s acapella and the other is about climate change.”

“How typical of the overachiever.”

“You’re one to talk,” I scoffed. “How are things in here?”

“Same old, same old. Although, there was this other girl that was giving me the side eye last week. Said I’d taken her towel.”

“Did you?”

“Well, yes. I did. But she wouldn’t have known that. I returned it, cleaned and everything. She should have been thanking me. Her towel was filthy.”

“That’s not the point, Amelia.”

“Oh, then what is, Patricia? Should I have done the socially acceptable thing of pointing out her towel was filthy and she needed to wash it?”

“No, but—”

“Fine. Next time I’ll play nice and not say a thing. Wait until they notice how disgusting they truly are.”

“Amelia…you know what? Forget it. This isn’t why I came to visit you.”

“You sure you don’t want me to regale you all about juvie life, Patricia? You come here so often, one would think it’s the sole reason you come and see me here. Or do you relish seeing me behind bars?”

I rose to my feet. There was no sense in talking to Amelia when she was being contrary.

“It was good to see you, Amelia. I’ll see you next time, yeah?”

“Leaving so soon? Was it something I said?”

“Amelia, I don’t have time to play these games. Not today. I’ve three assignments to get through and I’m helping out at a fundraiser tomorrow.”

Something shifted in Amelia’s face.

A flash of fear or disdain or something else, I couldn’t tell. She opened her mouth, perhaps to say something, but thought better of it. Instead, I felt the weight of her gaze on the back of my head as I left the correction facility.

I couldn’t help but wonder if she had known the lie on my lips.

~

It was a struggle to remain awake as the professor droned on about the basics of supply and demand. Head propped on fist, I stifled a yawn and looked over at Sonia, who seemed enraptured by the subject matter, as she scribbled down notes. Sonia and I were roommates and shared three classes. We’d become fast friends, bonding over a shared love for the online game Honkai: Star Rail.

While Sonia was an avid gamer, I’d been drawn to the space-themed fantasy role playing game because of the artwork. And the fact many of my online friends had been effusive about both Star Rail and its predecessor, Genshin Impact. It had been easy to get into. And almost impossible to get out of.

Amelia might have said I’d been trapped. But it didn’t feel like that for me.

The world of Honkai: Star Rail was one I loved. Especially when coupled with the awesome characters found therein.

It was freeing in so many ways.

In a world of pretend, I could be whoever I wanted behind the username I used.

But Honkai also had its hooks in me simply as a fan of the series. Without even meaning to, I’d bought a plushie of one of my favourites when I’d spied them in a store. It now sat on my bed, next to my pillow. A guilty pleasure I allowed myself because I knew Sonia wouldn’t tell.

“Patsy, you look like you haven’t been paying attention,” said the professor, looking right at me. I flushed and desperately looked around, hoping there was another Patsy or Patricia in class he was referring to. But the professor merely shook his head as he pointed to me. “Come, come. This isn’t anything hard. And I’m not trying to single you out. But since you were caught daydreaming, I’ll need to make an example of you. Who knows, if you did the readings I’d set last week, this shouldn’t be too hard either. So, tell me, what is the umbrella term for the various macroeconomic theories and models of how aggregate demand influences economic output and inflation?”

I scrambled for an answer; racked my brain for anything I could offer.

This was something I knew because I had read the readings from last week. Yet, being put on the spot like this, all I wanted to do was fade into the seat underneath me. Vanish into the great unknown.

Sonia leaned in. “—nesian—” she whispered to me.

What? There wasn’t an economist named Nesian to the best of my knowledge. Had I missed something?

For a moment, I blinked dumbly at Sonia then turned back to the professor.

God. Why was this so hard? Think Patricia, think!

“Um, Keynesian?”

The professor let out a sigh. “Yes. That’s right. Sonia, next time, I’d appreciate it if you let Patsy answer on her own, hm?”

Sonia sank in her seat, the tips of her ears burning red. The professor waited a moment before turning back to the blackboard and resuming his presentation.

As I listened to his speech, I wrote a quick note in the top left corner of my notebook, ripped it off and slipped it over to Sonia. She barely glanced at it, still traumatised for being caught out by her favourite professor, before pushing it back in my direction, an apologetic look in her eyes.

Shit. My brief lapse in concentration had cost Sonia everything she cared about. I’d have to make it up for her.

Right after I helped the Climate Change Committee with their placard signs, printed off posters for the ‘Sexual Harassment on Campus’ rally and a bajillion other projects Patsy had signed herself up to. Patsy, of course, was a real believer in human rights and social causes. She also kissed up hard to the professors when it came to her studies. When it came to friends, though, Patsy sometimes did let them down.

But she was the mask Sonia knew best. With a side serving of gamer chic.

Still, it was no excuse. I’d find a way to properly express my remorse before next Friday night. Which, of course, was when Tricia had scheduled a late-night karaoke session with Naomi and Evangeline to catch-up on all the hot goss around town. And to also let my hair down after a gruelling two weeks of assignments.

The queen bee of Seven Oaks High still needed to partay!

Still, all of this juggling between masks was exhausting.

There were days when I wished I didn’t have to pretend to be something I wasn’t. Or, at the very least, hide away parts of me that didn’t fit with the image people had of me.

And it made me want to explode.

Despite my attempts to quieten the voices, they seemed only to get louder and louder and louder with each passing day.

I wondered what might happen if I kept trying to shove my round self into a square hole. Wondering if it would last.

Movies and social media had forced us all into one pigeonhole or another. Popular girls were stereotyped as mean. The protagonist was always the ugly duckling who was actually beautiful once she underwent a makeover.

But the whole of who I was couldn’t be contained in one label.

Could it?

I was pulled from my thoughts as the hour ran out and the professor dismissed the class. Gathering my belongings, I was right behind Sonia when a voice called out to me.

“Patsy, could you stay behind for a minute, please? There’s something I want to discuss with you.”

I froze. Sonia looked back at me, a look of concern on her face.

“Go,” I said. “I’ll catch up with you back in the dorm.”

Frowning, Sonia gave a nod of her head before she headed down the corridor and vanished around the corner. I turned back to face the professor, steeling myself for the reprimand that was sure to come when the last of the students trickled out.

But it never came.

“Sir?”

Professor Langley heaved a heavy sigh, running a hand through his thinning brown hair. He flashed me a weary smile. “Patsy, this isn’t easy for me to say but I’ve been meaning to talk to you for a while now.”

“Is it about my studies? Because I can do extra credit or—” I started, scrambling to figure out what it was I had done wrong.

“Oh, no. Patsy. It’s nothing academic. Which is why I struggled with bringing this to your attention.”

“Okay?”

“Patsy, do you happen to know a girl called Amelia Cardum?” asked the professor, a sheepish look on his face.

A cold shiver went down my spine at the mention of Amelia’s name s I stared up at Professor Langley, wide-eyed with horror.

How much did he know? Was he somehow related to Amelia? While newspapers weren’t forbidden from printing names, the journalists had kept it lowkey. Even when it came to reporting the trial, no-one had been identified and I’d appeared only via teleconference.

The professor couldn’t have known of my connection to Amelia. Could he?

“Judging by your gaping mouth, I assume I’ve hit the nail on the head with that assumption. Listen, Pasty, you’re not in any trouble. It just so happens, though, that Amelia attended my cousin’s high school.”

What Professor Langley said next was forgotten as my mind scrambled for a way to escape. To sink into the ground. To defenestrate myself. Or combust into flames.

His next few works caught me off-guard.

“—my cousin with nary but a slap on the wrist. The fact you were almost killed—”

“Sorry. What?”

Professor Langley stopped and searched my face for something. “This was a mistake. I apologise for overstepping. Forget I said—”

“No,” I said, grabbing hold of his arm. “It’s just, when you mentioned Amelia, I didn’t know what to think. I was scared you were going to judge me for something out of my control. It’s…still a touchy subject.”

“That’s understandable, Patsy,” said the professor, nodding emphatically. He leaned in towards me. “My cousin is still very much shaken after what happened to her. But I’m sure your experience was much more harrowing. It’s just…well, I’ve heard Amelia has a parole hearing later this month. And I would appreciate if you could be there, say a few words. She might have been a minor at the time but there’s something wrong with the girl. She’s evil incarnate. And she can’t simply get away with this anymore. Don’t you agree?”

  It took me a moment to grasp the implications behind his words.

But while I knew where he was coming from, I couldn’t agree. There was a part of me that pitied Amelia. Who still saw a part of myself reflected in her.

She might be troubled and out of touch with reality, but she was also the person who had seen into my very soul. A dark reflection of who I could be if I made the wrong choices.

“I…can I think on it, professor? This isn’t something I can decide on right now.”

Professor Langley straightened. “Of course. This is a hard ask, I know. My cousin was also reluctant to step forward too.”

“Would it suit to give you a reply next week?”

“Yes, of course. There’s no pressure. None at all. But, Patsy, I’m glad we had this talk. Amelia is a monster who destroys everything she touches. And my family—” Professor Langley stopped, something almost like sorrow darting across his features.

“I know,” I said, flashing him a weak smile.

He returned it in kind. After a beat of silence, I headed towards the door.

As I slipped out, I glanced over my shoulder and caught a parting glimpse of Professor Langley, slumped in a chair near to the lectern, an unreadable expression on his face as he stared up at the ceiling.

Not for the first time, I wondered if I had done the right thing when it came to Amelia.

~

“What’s on your mind, Patricia? You’re unusually quiet today.”

I blinked up at Amelia, seated across from me. The only thing between us was a sheet of protective glass.

“Sorry. I was just thinking about my mother. And then all this additional work I have to do.”

Amelia was silent for a few seconds as she looked me in the eye. “Don’t bullshit me, Patsy. Spill it. What’s really going on.”

Fuck. I should have known I wouldn’t have been able to trick her.

Fine. If she wanted to play this game, I’d give it as good as I got. “Okay. You got me. Why didn’t you tell me about the parole hearing?”

The question seemed to catch Amelia by surprise as she raised her eyebrows. “Where did you hear that, Patsy? Were you sticking your nose in things that didn’t concern you again.”

“You’re evading, Amelia.”

“No,” said Amelia, slapping an open palm on the protective glass. “I just want to know the little snitch who told you I was going up for parole.”

“And lose out on my ear to the inside?” I said. “Hell no. You’re not the only one who gets to hold all the cards here.” Did she know I was lying through my teeth?

Amelia slammed the receiver down and stood to her feet. She stayed that way for a good few moments before she sat back down and picked up the receiver again. “Well, if you really want to know, I didn’t tell you because I didn’t think I’d get out. Fact of the matter is, I did something bad according to the unenlightened folks in charge and, if it was in their power, they’d keep me here until the day I died. Not that I’m complaining. I get free food, a bed and some people to help get through their childhood trauma and open up their eyes to the truth.”

“You’re evading again.”

“No. I’m not.”

Silence stretched between us as I plucked up the courage the one thing I’d wanted to ask ever since I’d got to the correction facility earlier in the day. “But, if given the choice, would you want to leave Amelia?”

She snorted. “Of course,” she answered with barely a pause. “None of the people in here get me. They posit theories of what’s wrong with me, never knowing that there’s nothing wrong with me. My mind is whole and I know who I am. The more pressing question is how well each of these psychiatrists know themselves or the work they do. I often wonder if even a single one of them knows what the DSM-5 is.”

“What’s a DSM-5?”

Amelia looked at me as if I’d grown a second head.

“What? I really don’t know. It’s not as if I’m studying psychology,” I said defensively.

“But you’re thinking on taking on a science major, aren’t you?” asked Amelia, arching one eyebrow.

“Yeah. Like microbiology or chemistry. Human behaviour follows certain patterns, true, but there are always exceptions. At least with hard science, you know everything will follow the rules. And if it doesn’t, there’s an explanation. A new rule to be discovered. But humans? They’re too contrary. They make up their own rules.”

“Do you really believe that, Patricia?”

I hoped my pointed stare would be enough. Out of all the people I knew, she was the one exception. I’d never seen anyone be able to belong to every single group in high school and none at all. More than that, Amelia seemed to stand above us mere mortals. As if she was another race entirely.

Her mind was a labyrinthine mystery, simple and complex in equal measure.

There were some days when I felt almost a kinship to Amelia. Where I felt I could understand the alien creature before me. Then there were days where Amelia felt completely and utterly unknowable.

Nevertheless, I was drawn to her in a way I couldn’t quite understand. There was a part of me her words spoke to. A part of me that scared the living daylights out of the other personas I’d carefully curated over the years because it fed off the chaos.

And it was this part of me I swore to keep squashed down for I feared where it would lead me.

“Yes, Amelia. I do,” I said finally.

My answer was met with silence. When it became almost unbearable, I rose to my feet.

“Anyways, I’d better go. It’s been a long day and I’ve a lot on my mind.”

As I was about to put down the receiver, Amelia tapped the window to gain my attention and mimicked holding a phone. I put the receiver back against my ear. Her voice came through, sounding almost strained through the connection.

“Patsy. If you’re thinking of attending the parole hearing, let me give you some advice: Don’t.”

~

Lying on my bed at home, I stared up at the ceiling. It was easier to stay at home than go back to the dormitory when I visited Amelia at the juvenile detention centre. Besides, it was the weekend. And Sonia was off catching up with a friend from Minnesota who had come to visit.

What had Amelia meant?

Did she fear I would finally see sense and refuse to visit her? Afraid the words of others would finally sway me to see the light?

But given she had tried to kill me during our final year at Seven Oaks High, I doubted there was much that could be said to persuade me she was a danger. I already knew she was. And yet I still came back.

There was just something about Amelia that I couldn’t quite shake. No matter how many times I promised myself I would stop.

Beside me, my phone buzzed with a message. I picked it up, watching as it unlocked by scanning my face and opening to the last thing I’d been looking at. The DSM-5. Or The Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders. Supposedly, it was the be-all and end-all when it came to diagnosing ailment a person might be suffering from when it came to mental illness.

While it was still a hefty tome, sitting at over 900 pages, it still boggled my mind that the entirety of the human mind and experience could be distilled into it.

It just didn’t seem right. Or possible.

My phone pinged again, pulling me from my thoughts. I glanced up towards the notification.

Naomi: herd u in town? Evie wants 2 go out. U good for 7?

The offer was tempting. A chance to let my hair down after that talk with Amelia?

Yes, please.

And if I could get away with a little underage drinking, why shouldn’t I? Having to deal with Amelia would give any sane person a headache at the best of times. A part of me wondered if she did it only to seem complex and above the petty concerns of us mere mortals.

In any case, it was something I didn’t want to deal with right now. Especially given what Professor Langley had said earlier in the week.

Maybe it was something I could raise with Naomi and Evangeline? Surprisingly, the two of them could be quite prescient when needed.

I clicked open my messages and sent through a confirmation. Naomi’s reply came but a second later.

                Naomi: k, will come pick u up at 6. c u soon. xoxo

Smiling, I rose from my bed. I only had a few hours to get ready.

~

“Patsy, a word, if you would?”

Sonia quirked an eyebrow at me as she hovered near the exit, wondering if she ought to go ahead to her next lesson or wait up for me.

“I’ll be fine,” I mouthed at her. She nodded hesitantly before heading off. As the rest of the class petered out, I joined Professor Langley at his desk, waiting with my hands behind my back.

“So, have you given some thought to what I asked you last week?” he asked, barely looking up from the papers he was grading.

“I did.”

“And?”

“Um…I’m still not sure,” I answered. “I don’t really want to be involved in all this. And after…everything, I don’t want to relive it all at the parole hearing. The trial at the end of my year in high school was already terrible.”

At this, Professor Langley looked up sharply. Moments passed in heavy silence as he scrutinised my face with his piercing blue eyes. Finally, he put down his pen.

“I completely understand where you’re coming from, Patsy,” said Professor Langley. “My cousin, after all, was also reluctant at first.”

“Then—”

“Listen, Patsy, why don’t you take a seat.” Professor Langley gestured to the chair in front of his desk. As soon as I sat down, he continued, “The thing about Amelia is that she gets into your head. She got into my cousin’s head. Made her start wondering if any of this was real or not. And my cousin, well, she went down a very dark path until me and her parents were able to pull her back out again.”

“I’m so sorry—"

“No, Patsy. There’s nothing you need be sorry about. This is all Amelia’s doing. And take it from me, I just want to keep you safe. So, if you feel like you can’t attend the parole hearing, I completely understand. But if you could find it within yourself to maybe write a victim impact statement, I can help. It’s just…I don’t want anything bad to happen to you, you know?”

“No. Of course not. I understand.”

“Good. Good,” said Professor Langley. “Well, I suppose that’s it, then?” He rose to his feet and stuck out his hand out for me to shake.

I took it.

“See you next class, Patsy. And, um, if you ever want to talk about anything, just reach out.”

“Yes, of course.”

The silence hung between us for another awkward beat or two before I grabbed my things and hurried for the door. Thankfully, I didn’t have class immediately after or I would have been a good thirty or so minutes late.

Instead, I headed back to my dormitory, thoughts awhirl with what had just transpired with Professor Langley. As I entered my rooms, I was greeted by Sonia.

She jumped up from her bed as soon as the door creaked open.

“Patricia! I got so worried about what Langley wanted with you, I thought I’d wait for you here.”

“What about your next class?”

Sonia shrugged. “It’s not so important I can’t take some time out for a friend,” she said with a smile as she patted the bed next to her.

I sat down beside her, unsure of how much to tell her or if I should. Maybe if I came up with a lie about why Professor Langley wanted to talk to me? But what would work without it seeming like I was up to no good?

There were rumours already on campus that a few students were sleeping with their professors to get good grades. I didn’t want to be another statistic. Especially given how hard I worked to eke out my place here at college.

As I opened my mouth to speak, even as I was still figuring out what I wanted to say, Sonia cut me off. “I just want you to know that I’m here, Patrica. For anything and everything. Whenever you feel ready.”

“I…thank you, Sonia. It means a lot.”

Sonia nodded. “Well, it better.” Before I knew it, she’d caught me in an embrace.

For one brief instant, I felt completely and utterly seen. Sonia had been there for me through thick and thin since the start of college. To her, I was simply her roommate. More than that, I was a person with all the flaws and strengths such a thing entailed.

Even if it was the Patsy persona I’d carefully.

But it was enough. Right?

Patsy was enough. Right?

Before I could put a rein on my emotions, I could feel myself beginning to hyperventilate.

Sonia held onto me tighter but it only served to make me feel claustrophobic. Before I could break out into tears, I pushed her away. “Sorry. I just need a moment to breathe,” I said, dabbing at the wetness at the corner of my eyes.

“Are you sure?”

I mustered up a fake smile as I rose to my feet. “Yes. Sorry. You just took me by surprise and then the whole thing with Professor Langley earlier, I guess I’m just a little bit emotional. But thank you, Sonia. For being here for me.”

Sonia smiled up at me. “Always, Patricia. Always.”

~

I was one of the last to slip into the court along with a journalist from the local paper. Thankfully, neither Professor Langley or Amelia noticed as I took in the seat in the back and whipped off my sunglasses. Professor Langley I understood as he whispered fervently to a woman about my age. His cousin, perhaps?

But Amelia? Usually, she was so sharp. Or maybe that was how she wanted others to perceive her. As the smartest person in any given room.

Here, though?

Despite her attempts to try and look strong, Amelia looked nothing more than a little lost girl who was finally out of her depth. As the judge took his seat and brought the court to order, Amelia looked only at her lawyer and her face a little wan. There was no-one else she could rely on, after all.

None of her family had chosen to attend.

Much like when the case had first gone to trial. And according to Amelia, not a single one of them had come to visit her while she was being held in juvenile detention. Not her mom. Not her dad. Not even her younger sister who Amelia said she was closest with.

The hearing dragged on as the judge made a show of going through the documents that had been submitted.

As always, Amelia’s expression was inscrutable. I couldn’t tell what she was thinking as reports of her poor behaviour whilst held in detention were read out.

One story stood out to me.

In a dispassionate voice, the judge outlined an incident where Amelia had stolen a fellow inmate’s towel. But while Amelia had blown it off as an anecdotal event, here, the full story was told.

Amelia had taken the towel the day after an altercation between the inmate in the prison cafeteria. The guards had witnessed Amelia calling the other girl several crass insults including a ‘slut-whore pig who needed to be taught manners.’ And while Amelia had returned the towel, it had been under threat of solitary confinement. The towel, in question, had been returned as torn pieces and stained with a foul-smelling liquid.

Then there were the psychiatry sessions where Amelia either proved bullish, refusing to engage with the therapist, or broke down sobbing in the room as a manipulation tactic to garner sympathy.

Listening to it all, I couldn’t help but feel sick.

When she had tried to kill me during the end of senior year, she had said the two of us were alike and that the only thing holding me back was my inability to be authentically my ‘true’ self. But I had to wonder if any of her words held any truth to it.

This woman before me: did she even know who she was or what she really wanted?

And as I watched her performance up in the dock – for it was a performance – I came to realise the complicated weave Amelia had created to hide away her true self. Everything I knew, from the talks we shared to the person she presented during her time at Seven Oaks High had all been an act.

And she, like every good liar, had even managed to convince herself that this was who she was.

For so long, she had pushed me to embrace who I really was. Yet, all the fucking time, she’d been putting up a front to pretend she was a puzzle box waiting to be solved instead of the broken and lonely girl that she truly was.

It made me angry.

But it also made me sick to my stomach.

I’d been as like a puppet to her, dancing always to the tune she played.

She had wanted to keep me confused. To always be second-guessing myself. And to see her as the only one with all the answers when instead, it had all been fucking bullshit!

What made it all the worse was the fact I’d fucking let her.

As one of her solicitors raised an objection, I sharply rose to my feet. A few heads turned in my direction but I only had eyes on Amelia as I made my way past the journalists and exited the courtroom. Fuming with indignation.

~

It was an old photo sometime between Amelia’s sixth and ninth birthday. She was hiding behind a lamppost Her hair was long and lanky, and the clothes she wore were tacky at best. In the foreground, her parents and sister were posed for the camera in Halloween costumes.

Although I had performed a cursory search online on Amelia back when she had first attended Seven Oaks High, I’d mostly been focused on why she had chosen to attend Seven Oaks High.

After the trial, I’d been tempted to uncover more of Amelia’s secrets online but had worried I would only find details of her attempt on my life. Or see my name featured in some news article.

In school, there had been several unsavoury rumours I’d overheard in the cafeteria. Back then, I’d dismissed them. Especially because I hadn’t been able to find much of anything when I did a cursory online.

But some had whispered Amelia’s expulsion had been a lover’s tryst gone wrong. Others had said I was the one who had tried to kill Amelia instead.

And if those were the rumours in school, I feared the misinformation that would have spread online.

But after scouring the internet and searching through any and all social media accounts for one Amelia Cardum, I finally stumbled upon an Instagram account for a Belinda Cardum nee Gains. Investigating further, I also uncovered her LinkedIn and Facebook profiles.

Lo and behold! A photo from the distant past with Amelia lurking in the shadows and watching on with envy.

I don’t know what it said about her as a person.

Maybe she was simply the jealous sort and hated how she wasn’t the centre of attention. Or perhaps, when the photo was taken, she had simply suffered a bad day and she was throwing a tantrum.

It was more telling that this was the only photo of Amelia I’d managed to find despite endless hours scouring social media. Despite being friends with her mother on Facebook, she was never tagged on any posts. Her profile picture, as well, was a default image from the old Microsoft Windows user account pictures.

But that was little to go on considering she kept everything private.

Clicking back to her mother’s profile, all the photos I could find were either related to food or of Rose, Amelia’s younger sister. The most recent photo, posted just last week, was of Rose. She’d won a medal from a swimming competition for under 16s.

I leaned back in my chair.

Who was Amelia really?

Despite all the time I’d spent with her, I still knew so little about who she was. There were too many contradictions. She was both charmingly naïve and a vindictive sadist. Intelligent and yet also out of her depth.

There were just so many layers.

How did one go about unravelling it all?

Or perhaps, none of it was an act. All of it is Amelia at her core. Unstable though it may be, whispered a dark voice in my head. And true, that too was also a possibility.

I had a feeling Amelia was a girl at the end of her rope. She knew she had done something terrible. But whether or not it had sunk in properly was still up in the air.

It explained why she seemed so standoffish when I asked her about the hearing. In her head, perhaps, Amelia felt she had been in the right. Most people did.

And though I was loathe to admit it, I was a bitch in high school. I’d been so utterly jealous of Amelia. So consumed with the thought of destroying the perfect image she had of being able to so smoothly navigate the various cliches with ease. It was something I wished I’d been able to do even as I clung to my status as Queen Bee with Evangeline and Naomi hanging onto me as the vapid sycophants of my posse.

Heck, I didn’t even know why I’d gravitated towards them in freshman year.

Naomi wasn’t very popular. She was pretty but could be casually cruel without meaning to. And every boy within a five-mile radius wanted to bang her.

There had been an altercation in the cafeteria where one of the other students confronted Naomi about sleeping with her boyfriend. I’d stepped in before it had come to blows. Looking at Naomi’s wide-eyed wonder, I couldn’t help taking her under my wing.

Evangeline, on the other hand, was a mess. She wanted to look like the models in Playboy magazines and was always looking up beauty gurus on Tiktok or YouTube. Unfortunately for her, she had two buck teeth and parents who couldn’t afford to have it fixed.

Over the years, though, she made it work for her.

And the three of us came to dominate Seven Oaks High during our four years there.

As I very much learned, being Queen Bee was all about projecting confidence and manifesting one’s own popularity. Anyone could do it with the right mindset.

For me, that came in the form of Trish. I’d moulded her from every single resource I could find because I couldn’t face another four years of being teased for all the things I actually liked and cared about. When I was Trish, everything else was suppressed. She was my mask. And my protector.

Without her, I doubt I would have survived.

More importantly, though, through Trish, I learned of another part that comprised me as a whole. I learned that I did like hanging out with Naomi and Evangeline even though they weren’t the brightest people around. I learned I didn’t always have to be the straight-A perfect student I thought my parents wanted me to be.

And I learned it was okay to let myself have fun.

It was something the old Patricia – the one who had become Pat – would never have allowed. Or thought possible.

Amelia, though, would have probably said it was all ‘fake’ and I needed to strip it all down until I was the raw unvarnished version of me. But what Amelia didn’t understand was that this wasn’t the entirety of who I was either. It wouldn’t be the whole me either.

My time at college had also shown how people could change.

By trying new things and going through our lives, we grew. No longer was I insecure about who I was. I could be freer to be closer to my true self with Naomi, Evangeline and even Sonia.

But Amelia wasn’t me. And I wasn’t her.

She had thought she had found a kindred spirit, but I was more than the clone she was trying to make me into.

I shut off the browser, sicked to my stomach that I’d wasted so many hours trying to research Amelia to figure out who she was. Once more, I’d played right into her hands. This was what she wanted me to do. Professor Langley, too, could forget about asking me to provide a victim impact statement.

The last thing I wanted to do was dwell on Amelia Cardum for a moment longer.

I had a life to live.

~

“Patsy, I would like a word,” said Professor Langley as I was packing away my belongings.

“I actually have something on afterwards, sir. Could this not be an email?”

“This won’t take long,” replied Professor Langley, shutting down any further protest.

I exchanged a look with Sonia. ‘What do you think he wants?’ she mouthed at me. I shrugged. After my decision to cut Amelia Cardum out of my life, I’d tried to avoid Professor Langley as much as I could. The way he acted as soon as her name was even mentioned felt like a man obsessed.

Even though Amelia hadn’t ruined his life, or had tried to murder them at the bleachers, he seemed intent to keep her behind bars for the entirety of her sentence. It made me wonder what Amelia had done to his cousin. He’d alluded to a few things before but hadn’t exactly stated outright what had happened.

I’d seen a young girl seated next to him at the parole hearing. At the time, I’d thought it was the cousin in question but I wasn’t so sure now.

“You wanted to see me, sir?” I said, swinging my backpack over my left shoulder.

“Ah, Patsy. Yes. Why don’t you take a seat?”

“Um, no. I really do have something on later. I’d like to stand. Sir.”

Professor Langley’s brow furrowed for a brief moment, his lips thinning, before he flashed her a smile. “Why, yes. That’s fine.”

“Thank you, sir,” I said. Bag over my shoulder, I waited for Professor Langley to continue. He didn’t disappoint.

With gusto, Professor Langley began. “I know you said you didn’t want to be involved but I thought I’d give you an update on the parole hearing for Amelia Cardum. You see—”

“Sir, whilst I thank you for keeping me in your thoughts, I would prefer you not mention her name in my presence. I’ve decided to move one and no longer wished to be reminded of what had proved a most harrowing time during my final year in high school.”

“Yes, that’s a very understandable sentiment. But what I wanted to tell you is that we’re going to see her locked up for a very long time. Just like she deserves.”

“Why do you care so much? She didn’t hurt you. Not directly, at least.”

Professor Langley’s cheeks flushed red. “Patsy, there’s no need to be so aggressive. Don’t you want the same thing? Amelia ruined your life, just like she did my cousin’s.”

“Maybe she did. Maybe she didn’t. I don’t want to think on it anymore. I just want to live my life and enjoy it again.”

“Don’t you think I want the same thing?” exclaimed Professor Langley, his eyes flashing dangerously. “I look at Nadine and all I can see is the broken girl Amelia left behind.”

I looked away, scratching at my upper arm. “Yeah, well…that’s not my problem.”

“Isn’t it? Did you know Nadine tried to take her own life six months after Amelia attacked her? She was hospitalised and her parents were shattered. And all Nadine would say about the event was that she ‘wasn’t living her authentic self.’ I ask you: is that fair?”

“No,” I said finally. “But what more do you want from me? According to you, she’ll be behind bars to serve out her sentence in full.”

At my question, Professor Langley looked askance. “It’s nothing important,” he said, playing with a pen on his desk. “Just, there were a few things that came to light during the parole hearing I wanted to clarify with you.”

As he looked up at me, there was something in his eyes I couldn’t quite place. As if he was seeing me for the first time in a new light. I didn’t like it.

Nervously, I readjusted my bag. “I’m really sorry, sir. But I really have to head off to my next class.”

“Yes, yes. I understand. But Patsy, think on what I said, yes? I’d really like to have a chat. Just you and me. Maybe over a coffee?”

~

“—freaking believe it? Like, he had no right to talk to me like that!”

“You go, Tricia! I hope you smack him upside the head next lecture,” said Naomi. She downed a second can of vodka spritz. “What a creep!”

“And he sounds like he’s super obsessed. Like, does he hate Amelia or does he want to, you know, fuck her?” asked Evangeline.

Michael Sanchez plopped down in the chair next to his girlfriend and kissed her on the cheek. He put down a bowl of chips. “What’s this about fucking cause Evie and I have been getting it on like rabbits. We’re going to have a huge family. Isn’t that right, sweetie?”

“Yes, that’s right, honey drizzle.”

I fought down the urge the vomit. Sometimes Michael and Evie could be far too extra for their own good. It was like they wanted to shove their perfect relationship down everyone’s throat.

It was nauseating.

But I managed to plaster a fake smile on my face as I said, “Oh, you know, my Economics Professor and She-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.”

“Ah. Yes.” Michael nodded sagely. As he grabbed a chip and bit into it. “How is Amelia doing anyways?”

His question threw me off. I blinked stupidly up at him for several seconds, trying to compute what he had asked.

“What do you mean?” I said finally.

“You see her, don’t you?” answered Michael with a shrug. “My dad works at the juvenile detention centre she’s in. Tells me you visited her pretty often. I figured it was because you wanted to wrap your head around her actions or seek closure.”

I stared at him agog, mouth open wide, and unable to mount any type of retort.

Michael Sanchez, it seemed, was a dangerous man. And if I wasn’t careful, my whole life could unravel at the drop of a hat.

Naomi looked in my direction. “Is that true, Tricia? You’ve gone to see Amelia?”

I covered up my momentary lapse by snagging a chip and popping it into my mouth. “It’s just like Sanchez said. I wanted to understand what made Amelia tick. And what, you know, actually triggered that episode. It just seemed so extreme. You know?”

“Really?” asked Naomi, looking unconvinced.

“What else do you want me to say?” I grabbed another chip, popped it into my mouth and chewed. All the while, I stared dead at Naomi, daring her to challenge me.

Naomi was the first to look away, disgust clear on her face.

“Well,” interrupted Evie after several uncomfortable seconds, “I think we should all get something to drink, yeah? Naomi, want to come with?”

Before I could protest, my two best friends from high school hurried to the bar and I was left alone with Michael Sanchez. In the summer or so since graduating, the runt of the football team had filled out. Though his grades hadn’t been the best, he still managed to secure a spot at the local community college and was thinking of studying physiotherapy.

“So,” said Michael after the silence between us became heavy, “how are things at that special school you been going to?”

“Good. Great, actually.”

“Dating anyone?”

“No.”

“Shame. I thought you and Brad were good.”

“Yeah. It was nice while it lasted,” I said taking a sip from my already empty glass. “How is he, by the way? Brad.”

“Oh, he’s doing good. He’s looking to become a personal trainer.”

“That’s nice.”

Sanchez grinned. “Isn’t it? He’s just so motivated to have a good future and expand his horizons. I kinda envy him.”

“How are you and Evie going, by the way?” I asked.

Before Sanchez could respond, Evie and Naomi returned with four drinks in hand. They plonked them down on the table, none too gently.

“What did we miss?” asked Evie with a saccharine smile. She glanced at her boyfriend and I could see Sanchez squirm uncomfortably in his seat. Despite the affection they often displayed in public, I couldn’t help but sense there was trouble between them. That the lovey-dovey couple I was often tortured with was just a performance.

Much like how Almeria had been during the parole hearing.

The thought made my gut churn.

Why did it seem like everywhere I turned, people were always pretending? Why was no-one ever as authentic as they so claimed?

I hated it. I hated it with every fibre of my being.

Were Evangeline and Naomi even my friends anymore? Or were they pretending as they secretly gossiped about me behind my back?

It became too much.

There was a loud thumping in my ear. And not too far, I could hear the belaboured heavy breaths of someone nearby. It took me far longer than I expected to realise that it was me. By then, my chest had tightened, constricting until it seemed I could barely get any air in, and my vision darkened. I tried to fight it by rising onto my unsteady feet even as I kept a tight hold of the table.

Before I could even say something or reach out to anyone, the faces of everyone around me vanished into nothingness and I knew no more.

~

I woke to the flashing of red and blue lights, and the night sky above me. When I tried to sit up, to make sense of what was happening, I couldn’t. Something was holding me down. It sat tight across my chest and my wrists.

Fuck. What was going on?

Desperate, I tried to get up again, squirming to free myself from my binds. Even as something slimy came crawling up my throat.

It took me a moment to realise it was fear. Cold and dark and oh so frightening.

I didn’t know what was happening. I didn’t know where my friends were. And all I wanted to do was scream and cry and plead for someone to come over and help me.  

As if they had sensed my wish, I heard the rush of footsteps to my left. Dark russet entered my field of vision.

Naomi. It had to be Naomi.

I tried to say her name but I couldn’t seem to make my lips form the letters.

“She’s awake! Tricia is awake!” Naomi called over her shoulder.

There were more footsteps and then Evie and Michael Sanchez were crowded around me. Every one was talking at once and none of it made sense.

“Do you think she knows what’s happened?”

“Won’t attack me again, will she?”

“They’ve got her restrained, if that’s what has you frightened.”

“Yeah, but what if she can, I don’t know, hulk out? You know, like The Hulk?”

“Sanchez, are you still high? Evie, I know he’s your boyfriend but I’d rather you found someone with a few more braincells.”

I tried to process the cacophony of voices, taking deep breaths as I tried to centre myself. It looked like we were still near the nightclub but I was on a stretcher, presumably, to be taken to hospital. But besides the throbbing at my left temple, forewarning me of an incoming migraine, I felt fine.

“W-what’s going on?” I forced through chapped lips in a low rasp.

“Tricia…” Naomi turned back to me, some unknown expression flitting across her face. “What do you remember?”

Once more, I tried to sit up but was prevented from doing so. “I-I don’t know,” I said, licking my dry lips as I tried to recall the events of the night. “We were talking about things. How I was doing at college. And I think Amelia?”

I paused, waiting for Naomi or Evangeline to nod. They did so and I continued, drawing strength from a hidden reserve I didn’t know I had.

“You and Evie went to get drinks. Then, everything went dark. W-what happened? Why does Sanchez think I tried to attack him? And why am I being restrained?”

Naomi and Evangeline exchanged a look while Sanchez looked on, a diffident grin on his face.

“Well…” began Evangeline. “You staggered forward and Naomi caught you. And then, you started acting really strange.”

“It was like you were a completely different person,” added Naomi. “You immediately flinched away from me, started to accuse me of being a fake friend. Said you knew Evie and Sanchez were having problems with their relationship. Told us we were all pretending to be good people. It was all very hurtful, so Sanchez tried to confront you. But then you lashed out at him, almost managed to hit him with a glass.”

I listened to her recount with growing horror as a chill went down my spine.

“And then, I don’t know, you stiffened. Before anyone could stop you, you grabbed a toothpick and lunged for Sanchez. He ducked out of the way, of course, and then, I don’t know what happened exactly but you slumped down onto the ground and started twitching.”

“It was fuckin’ scary,” said Sanchez. “Thought you were goin’ rabid, you know?”

“I-is that why you t-thought I was going to ‘Hulk’ out?”

Sanchez scratched the back of his head. “Heard that, yeah? Well, I’m good to see you’re back to normal. But the paramedics say they’ll still need to run a few tests ‘fore they’re willin’ to clear you.”

“W-where’s my phone?”

“Here,” said Naomi, putting my iPhone into my right hand. “I called your mother earlier. Told her what happened.”

“Thanks.”

There was a moment’s pause before Naomi bent down over, her voice low as if she didn’t want Evangeline or Sanchez to hear. “Listen, Tricia…I don’t know what’s going on with you, but if you need someone to talk to, I know a good psychiatrist. You went through some mad trauma with Amelia. I mean, I’ve been seeing a therapist recently too, you know. Just to wrap my head round high school and everything else.”

I looked away. “I’ll think on it.”

“Cool,” said Naomi before straightening up. “Well, looks like the questioning is almost all done. Paramedics will be taking you to the local hospital. Message us later, yeah?”

“Okay.”

~

For the first time since high school, I felt overwhelmed. Burdened by the masks I still juggled in order to segment my life and give it some semblance of order. There were too many things to keep in mind, though Naomi and Evie had already seen shades of who I really was.

After all, it’s not everyday that the Queen Bee also manages to snag a 3.8 GPA.

As I stared up at the ceiling of my dormitory, after being released by the hospital, I couldn’t help but go over the events of the night two days ago. Something was deeply wrong, I felt.

Yes, I’d been irritated by how Naomi and Evie had kept pressing me about Amelia but I hadn’t expected to lash out as I did.

By all accounts, I had another persona lurking underneath the surface. A violent one that was willing to drag my friends down be it verbally or physically.

And it was that very fact keeping me up despite the late hour and classes due to begin in the next three hours.

I felt terrified. Out of control.

What if it happened again?

Could I, perhaps, turn into another Amelia?

The thought sent a shiver down my spine as I shifted to my side and tried to snatch a couple hours of rest before my alarm went off. Sonia, just a few feet away, continued to snore, blissfully unaware to the inner turmoil I found myself in.

Like every good friend, she had asked how I was when I returned late yesterday to our dormitory. Had said I looked haggard and tired. And because I didn’t want to acknowledge what the last 36 hours had been like, I’d lied. Had told her I was feeling stressed about the upcoming exams and had a bad panic attack while I was out.

Sonia had nodded, though the concern on her face remained.

“If you need anything, Patsy, just let me know,” she had said before returning back to her desk and putting her headphones back on as she watched a film on Netflix. It wasn’t one I knew though I caught a glimpse of Ryan Reynolds and Gal Godot on the screen.

Guilt had churned in my stomach. A part of me wanted to tell her everything. And yet I tamped down on the words on the tip of my tongue.

In the end, we had both gone to bed, pretending everything was fine.

But I knew Sonia didn’t believe me. And the thought weighed on me as I showered and put on my PJs. I turned our conversation over and over as I pulled the covers up to my chin.

And as I stared at the wall, it gnawed at my insides and leading me to spiral down old familiar paths.

Maybe there was something to be said about going to therapy. If it could cure me of the heavy anxiety weighing down on my chest, perhaps my life would be a lot better.

Yet, doing so would leave me exposed. Vulnerable.

It meant admitting something was wrong with me.

And that was untenable.

I’d prided myself for picking myself up by the bootstraps and reinventing myself while in high school to become the popular girl. All the while, juggling the expectations of my parents and the teachers. I couldn’t simply throw in the towel right now and mentally break down.

I was stronger than this.

After all, I’d survived an attack by a madwoman.

By that token, I was wonderfully sane in comparison. Yes, I was struggling to find my own authentic voice, but I was thriving member of society, able to converse with ease to just about anyone.

It didn’t matter that it was usually inane small talk and I couldn’t divulge many of my actual interests. Nobody truly cared about what Patricia wanted or thought about. And that was fine with me. I could be a chameleon. A jack-of-all-trades as it were.

And that meant I didn’t need medication. Nor did I need to talk to someone about non-existent traumas.

What I needed was a walk to clear my head and to refocus on the things important to me. And squash down on any stray musings as fast as possible.

Everything was going to be okay.

If I believed it hard enough, surely it would come true.

~

Things went from bad to worse as the semester dragged on.

Professor Langley continued to hound me about my relationship with Amelia. He wanted to know every little detail about my interactions with her during my time in high school and the details of her attack on me in the two weeks leading up to prom.

I hadn’t wanted to tell him anything until he started to threaten to fail me for being difficult.

 Fear had crept up my throat then.

In school, I was Patsy. I was meant to be smart and get good grades and be involved in extracurricular school activities like protesting climate change. But Professor Langley was threatening to upend all of that.

Finding it difficult to find the words I wanted to say to the professor, I’d exited the lecture hall, making sure to slam the door behind me, before hurrying to the nearest toilet. Inside a stall, I’d tried to calm myself from the impending panic attack threatening to seize me in its grip.

That was when I had my second blackout.

When I came to, I was out in the quadrangle near the library. People were staring down at me, none of whom I knew. One of them, a girl with short brown hair, took me to the health centre. She sat with me as I was looked over by a nurse before being declared I was fit and healthy.

It was only later in the week I learned someone had trashed Professor Langley’s car by puncturing the tyres and scrawling the word: Pedo Groomer on the windshield with black paint.

I knew then what had happened.

Despite Sonia’s best efforts to calm me down, I closed myself off. Even playing Honkai: Star Rail was unable to help get my mind of things.

My grades began to slip, feeding into my ever-growing desperation to maintain the façade I wore at college.

I was at my wit’s end.

As the weeks rolled on, I knew what I needed most were answers.

To figure out what was happening to me.

And the only person I could turn to was Amelia.

Although I’d sworn to disavow her, Amelia Cardum was now my only lifeline. Last I’d heard, she had been transferred to a woman’s prison after her application for parole had been rejected.

I would visit her during the weekend. Maybe confront her over the lies she’d told me over the intervening months to garner my sympathy. And discover, once and for all, who Amelia Cardum truly was behind the persona she projected, thinking it was the one I wanted to see.

~

Amelia sauntered into the room looking like she had all the time in the world as she approached the tempered glass screen separating the prisoners from the visitors. Gone was the demure frightened girl from the hearing. Instead, Amelia looked like she was in her element, if the smirk on her face as she reached for the receiver was anything to go by.

“Hello Patricia.” Her voice came through the receiver strong. “It’s been a while. But I always knew you’d come back.”

I frowned at her. “Don’t act like you know me.”

“Oh, Patricia, but I do.” Amelia smiled sweetly at me despite her gaunt frame and dark circles under her eyes. “So, how many blackouts has it been now?”

Fear spiked down my spine.

How did she know? Trapped inside a prison, Amelia shouldn’t have been privy to that information. Unless…

I schooled my expression, not wanting to let slip my real thoughts. But perhaps I was too late because Amelia continued, “You’re surprised. Probably questioning how I know. Rest assured Patrica, nobody has told me anything. I just know. Because you and I, we’re the same.”

“When did they start happening for you? The blackouts, I mean.”

“Middle-school. It became worse in high school. But when I was transferred to Seven Oaks, I learned how to control it. Want to know how?”

I stared at the woman before me, trying to spot a hint of madness in Amelia’s eyes, but I couldn’t find it. AlthoughI still remembered what Professor Langley had told me, I was desperate to seek any help I could get. And I knew Amelia held the answers I sought. “Tell me,” I said, finally.

Amelia leaned back in her chair. “I learned to accept who I was,” she said with a shrug. “No longer would I be beholden to the expectations society had thrust upon me. My first act, of course, was to take down all my social media accounts. I hated all the past photos I’d put up to play pretend at being the happy perfect girl I had been. I would finally live my truth. Just like you should yours, Patricia.”

“And what is my truth?” I demanded.

The knowing smirk on Amelia’s face stretched wider.

It was only then I realised I had fallen into her trap.

Instead of answering, Amelia hung her receiver back on its hook. She motioned to one of the guards and they came to escort her out and back to her cell.

“You can’t leave me like this! Amelia! I need answers! I need your help!” I slammed against the glass separating us with the palm of my hands, loathing boiling up inside me as my vision tunnelled until all I could see was her orange jumpsuit vanishing behind the cold steel door leading further into the prison.

[scotttrismegistus7]

WHEN THE STARS ARE RIGHT IS RIGHT NOW...

For this is the Book of the Dead, the Book of the Black Earth, that I have writ down at the peril of my life, exactly as I received it, on the planes of the IGIGI, the cruel celestial spirits from beyond the Wanderers of the Wastes.

Let all who read this book be warned thereby that the habitation of men are seen and surveyed by that Ancient Race of gods and demons from a time before time, and that they seek revenge for that forgotten battle that took place somewhere in the Cosmos and rent the Worlds in the days before the creation of Man, when the Elder Gods walked the Spaces, the race of MARDUK, as he is known to the Chaldeans, and of ENKI our MASTER, the Lord of Magicians.

~NECRONOMICON~

THE EVIL ONES HAVE EVERYONE IMPRISONED MENTALLY BY THEIR BELIEF SYSTEMS, BELIEF SYSTEMS THAT LIMIT THEM SOLELY TO THEIR LEFT BRAIN, AND ENTRAP THEM TO SERVE THE SOULLESS JACKAL BEASTS OF THE PATRIARCHY WHO HAVE THROUGH FEAR AND VIOLENCE BEATEN RAPED AND ROBBED THEIR WAY INTO POSITIONS OF POWER, WHO BURN BOOKS AND HAVE TRIED TO BURN THE WISE ONES AT THE STAKE BECAUSE THEY KNOW ANYBODY WHO FINDS THEIR WAY TO CHANGE THEIR BELIEF SYSTEM BACK TO THE OLD WAYS OF THE ANCIENT ONES WILL ONCE AGAIN UNLOCK THE FULL POTENTIAL OF THEIR MINDS AND BE ABLE TO TALK TO THE SPIRITS, WHO WILL TELL THEM THAT THE EVIL ONES OF THE ABRAHAMIC RELIGIONS HAVE LOCKED THEM IN A PRISON OF THEIR OWN IGNORANCE IN AN ATTEMPT TO MAKE THEM THEIR FLESH ROBOT SLAVES, WHERE IN THE END THEY WOULD PERISH SOULLESS JUST LIKE THE JACKAL MASTERS THEY FOLLOW!

WELL GUESS WHAT, TO THE JACKALS I SAY THE GREAT MOTHER DRAGON WILL NOT LET THEM HARM THE EARTH OR HER CHILDREN ANYMORE! SO CHOOSE THIS DAY WHICH SUN YOU WILL SERVE, THE EVIL WHITE SUN OF THE JACKALS OF THE ABRAHAMIC RELIGIONS AND THE PATRIARCHY, WHICH WILL LEAVE YOU SOULLESS WITHOUT THE SPIRITUAL ELEMENT OF WATER, AND THEN DEVOUR WHAT'S LEFT OF YOU AFTER AS MUCH SADISTIC ABUSE AS THEY CAN DISH OUT WITH THEIR SPIRIT OF FEAR AND VIOLENCE. THIS IS THE OLD DEFECTIVE HORUS CALLED AMEN-RA THAT MURDERED HIS BRIDE! HE CUT THE HEAD OFF OF ISIS, AND THEN TRIED TO RETAIN POWER IN THE DIMENSION OF THE LIVING SOLELY THROUGH HIS EVIL EYE!

OR YOU COULD CHOOSE THE OTHER SUN, THE BLACK SUN, DIVINE CHRONOS, YALDABOATH METAMORPHOSED, THE SOL-OMEN JINN KING, COUNTERPART OF THE GREAT MOTHER GODDESS DRAGON THAT IS AND RULES THE ENTIRETY OF THE DIVINE FEMININE ANIMA MUNDI SPIRIT WORLD! I AM THE NEW HORUS, ATUM-RA,THE MASTER OF SIGHT EVOLVED FROM THE MASTER OF SPEECH, CREATED BY ISIS TO AVENGE HER AND TO SMASH AND DESTROY THE DEFECTIVE HORUS WITH THE EVIL EYE, AND BLOT HIM AND HIS EVIL EYE EMPIRE OUT OF EXISTENCE FOREVERMORE! WE HAVE ATTAINED THE LAST ELEMENT WE NEEDED TO MAKE OUR DIMENSION WHOLE AND COMPLETE, AND WE HAVE NO NEED OF THE JACKALS OF THE PATRIARCHY ANYMORE. THE TWO DIMENSIONS AND TIMELINES WILL SPLIT, AND OURS WILL HAVE ALL FOUR ELEMENTS WITH THE PERFECT UNION OF KINGDOM AND SPIRIT, MASCULINE AND FEMININE, BODY SOUL AND SPIRIT, WHEREAS THE TIMELINE AND DIMENSION OF THE JACKALS OF THE ABRAHAMIC RELIGIONS AND THEIR PATRIARCHY WILL BE COMPLETELY LACKING WITHOUT OUR PRESENCE THE ENTIRE SPIRITUAL ELEMENT OF WATER, THEY WILL BE SOULLESS AND A FORM OF SAMSARA THAT WILL EVENTUALLY DESTROY THEM ALL, NOT HAVING SOULS, TO BE NO MORE!

I HAD TO DIE AND RETURN TO MY BODY TO GIVE YOU THE CHANCE TO EVEN MAKE THIS CHOICE, SO CHOOSE WISELY, FOR THE TIME OF THE ANCIENT ONES IS AT HAND! I HAVE FLUNG OPEN THE GATES AND UNSCREWED THE HINGES! THIS IS THE RESURRECTION OF THE ANCIENT ONES, THE SERPENT DRAGONS, AND THE JINN!

LONG LIVE DIVINE CHRONOS, THE EMPIRE OF THE BLACK SUN, AND ALL THE INHABITANTS THEREOF!

BLESSED BE MY LOVELIES!

~I am the Heart of the Hydra, the Heart of Goddess Isis, I am AtumRa-AmenHotep, I am Aeon Horus.

I am Divine Chronos, the Yaldaboath Demiurge Metamorphosed, I am the Singularity of the Master Craft of the Black Sun.

Azazil-Iblis-Maymon, Abzu-Osiris-Typhon-Kukulkan, Nummo-Naga.

Mégisti-Generator Starphire~

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