#signed - a person in an actual May-December relationship about to celebrate ten years together next week

[leslie-lyman]

General PSA:

If you’re on Beyoncé’s internet in the year 2023 and are trying to argue with people that the general concept of an age gap of whatever size between two consenting adults is somehow inherently bad/wrong/immoral:

Please. I am begging you. Go outside. Touch some grass. Be not-online for a bit. Read a book (something other than Colleen Hoover).

Aren’t you guys tired of this yet?

[girls-love-girls1200]

51. Hani x Reader •Boss•

If there was one word to describe your relationship with alarm clocks, your mother would probably say pure hatred, after all during the ever so dark days that formed your high school career she had had to reel you out of bed and frantically drive you to school while screaming about all the different ways you had disappointed her as a daughter on many, many occasions.

University had felt like a breath of fresh air, out of all the classes you were taking only one of them was an early morning, 8 am sharp the professor had advised on the first day of classes, and yet you still managed to show up almost every week at least ten minutes late with a notebook in one hand and and a random fruit in the other, cheeks heating up under the teacher’s discouraged gaze, the disappointment in eyes as clear as day.

One would think that as young adult entering the first stages of your career of choice you would have wised up, your job was a real responsibility to be honest, you absolutely loved it, there was no doubt about that, but somehow, you had to be late at least once a week and after working at the architectural firm that was Ahn Corporate for three years your coworkers had started a tradition of betting at the beginning of every week on the day you would arrive late, whoever won had to buy coffee for the whole office.

Sometimes you wondered how you still managed to keep your dream job and why nobody had scolded you for your everlasting tardiness, and as you voiced your doubts to one of your colleagues the answer was one you had decided to ignore ever since and act like you had never heard anything, except for when you found yourself working on designs at two in the morning, only then those words would come back to you,

“You’re one of the top drafting and design technicians out there at the moment, Miss Ahn is convinced you’re a diamond, she has one hell of a soft spot for you Y/N.”

Unsurprisingly, on a freezing December morning you found yourself bursting through the company doors your briefcase tight in your arms as it held one of your more treasured projects yet, only after jumping in the elevator you gave yourself a second to calm your breathing, and as you caught your reflection in the mirrored door you almost shrieked, running a hand through your hair in order to make it slightly presentable, fastening the last button of your shirt just as the elevator dinged. You didn’t even have time to put on your lenses as you sped walked towards the conference room, checking the time on the wall above the entrance you sighed at the fact you had managed to arrive fifteen minutes late.

The serious atmosphere that embraced you as soon as you set foot in the room felt extremely suffocating, you spotted the familiar faces of a few of your colleagues around the long table, they were kind enough to send a few reassuring glances your way.

Most of the faces at the table you didn’t recognize though, they were probably some higher ups or representatives of the company you had been doing the project for, but one thing was for sure, they didn’t seem happy to have been held up for fifteen minutes waiting for your arrival.

At the head of the table sat the woman you had only seen on rare occasions and spoke to once, when she had welcomed you on your first day at work but it was safe to say that she had been on your mind a lot ever since.

Ahn Heeyeon was in your eyes an incredible woman, her and her older brother had inherited Ahn Corporate from their late father at a very young age and they somehow managed to elevate the architectural firm to an even higher level, it was known as one of the most prestigious firms internationally and it attracted extremely wealthy clients from all over the world, ranging from celebrities to politicians to bankers and other huge corporations.

The woman was highly recognized for her intelligence and hard work but little to nothing was known about her personal life, the tabloids liked to make up crazy rumors about how she had never dated in her entire life because of how work focused she was.

But as you looked in her eyes while walking towards your designated seat you could see a kindness and fondness that was so very rare.

“Good morning everyone, I’m terribly sorry for my tardiness but I can assure you all you won’t be as disappointed in my work as you are in my behavior.”

You dared to peek at your boss, sighing in relief as the beautiful woman showed signs of a small smile on her face.

Opening your briefcase you fished out your glasses among the infinite amount of papers you carried for some reason, even when clients mostly requested digital blueprints and projects, you could never come up with an idea if you didn’t have a sharp pencil and a white sheet of paper in front of you. Grabbing the transparent folder you had forgot to label, you passed it on to Miss Ahn, who always preferred to present every important project herself.

As your eyes met she sent you a sweet smile and mouthed a thank you, making you break out in an unflattering blush as you lightly bowed your head towards her.

You anxiously awaited her reaction to the project you had spent all night perfecting, a space for an open air art installation on the coast of Naples, you had somehow managed to come with an idea that was extremely peculiar, but that is what your work was known for and what clients always expected from you.

The woman’s eyebrows raised ever so slightly as she looked at the intricate lines and curves drawn out on the paper in front of her, to be honest she got goosebumps every time she saw one of Y/N’s projects for the first time, the girl that had been recommended to her by a friend who taught at one of the most prestigious universities in Korea had caught her attention from the very first design she had presented at her interview, and now, as she tried to piece together her latest work she couldn’t help but smile lightly, even knowing the full attention of everyone in the room was on her.

“Miss Ahn if I may, I’ve also sent the digital blueprints to your email, they might be easier for our clients to get a grip of how I envisioned the space.”

The way you stumbled through the sentence made her heart flutter lightly inside her chest, and as she turned on the monitor behind her your ideas appeared, making you blush once again as you realized that she was one step ahead of you.

The rest of the meeting went by smoothly and you somehow managed to answer every question you were asked, throwing yourself into the chair at your usual work desk you couldn’t help but release a huge sigh of relief, a small giggle coming from Chaeyoung while she rolled her chair over to you, handing you a cup of coffee, “How you managed to pull that off I have no idea Y/N, but that piece was pretty impressive.”

Her mischievous eyes stared straight at you as you thanked her while kicking her chair back, making her roll to desk.

“Shut up and keep working Chaeyoung then maybe one day you’ll get paid as much as I do loser.”

Her laugh echoed through the office as she threw a pencil at you, missing by an inch as it hit Heechul on the arm, earning a colorful string of curse words on his behalf.

Suddenly the sound of footsteps approaching interrupted your fun, all three of you scrambled to your work stations, trying your best to look as if you were actually working.

“Y/N, Miss Ahn would like to see you.”

You turned around startled, only to be met by your boss’s assistant, a cold gaze in her eyes that automatically made you panic, you felt your colleagues gazes on your back as you followed the tall woman, your eyes fixated on her tight ponytail that swung with every step she took.

The journey to the top floor seemed to last an eternity before you finally arrived to the huge glass office that belonged to Ahn Heeyeon, as indicated by the gold plaque hanging above the entrance.

Your heart leaped in you chest and for a second you worried if it were actually possible that it might jump up your throat, shaking the dumb thought out of your head you followed the secretary inside.

To be honest, you couldn’t believe your eyes as you stepped inside the large office, one of the youngest and most famous entrepreneurs in South Korea was sitting crossed leg on the floor, an array of takeway food spread out before her, by the smell you assumed Chinese, a smartphone was ringing on her huge glass desk while another was on the floor next to her,

“Jeonghwa please make that devil sound stop please, I’m having my lunch!”

The tall assistant let out a small giggle as she shook her head, “You’re getting lazier every day that passes boss.”

The older woman’s gaze finally caught you standing in the corner mouth agape like a fish out of water,

“Oh, Y/N I’m so happy you accepted my lunch invitation, come, come sit!”

She looked straight at you and invited you over with overzealous hand gestures, chopsticks flying in the air and a bit of sauce dripping down her chin, and all you could do was move forward and sit directly in front of her without saying a word.

“You know how you got your job here right?”

You shook you head as she passed you some clean chopsticks, the room now enveloped in silence,

“Well, professor Kim is a very good friend of mine and he talked very fondly of you, I needed and a new design technician with fresh ideas so I decided to give you a chance...”

After careful consideration you decided to go for a Potsticker, still having no idea as to what you were doing there precisely you munched down, paying careful attention to her words,

“And to be honest, it was a risky move, but now I realize it was one of the best decisions I have taken for this company.”

You felt your cheeks heat up as you stammered out a couple of thankyous, her eyes never leaving you, as a strand of snowy hair fell down her face,

“Now this might sound completely unprofessional but I get this feeling that you are very special, so I was hoping we could get to know eachother over lunch.”

A shy smile graced her features and you could’ve dropped dead in that second if it weren’t for the fact that you didn’t want to waste the opportunity to get to know the beautiful woman in front of you better.

“Lucky for you Miss Ahn, Chinese is my favorite.”

Her eyes sparkled at your words, your fingers went to the paper napkin poking out of one of the plastic bags the food had come in and you gracefully passed it to her,

“By the way you have sauce on your chin.”

Her cheeks turned a bright shade of pink as her eyes widened before the both of you fell into a ruckus of laughter.

As weeks passed rapidly, lunches in her office had become a habit, fortunately all your colleagues seemed to actually ship the two of you and made fun of your ,very obvious in their opinion, crush on Miss Ahn, just Heeyeon behind closed doors.

And I mean how could you not fall for such an endearing woman, she treated you with the softest manners, her eyes sparkled ever so much and there were times she made your belly ache from laughing so hard.

You couldn’t believe she had let you see a side of her that rarely ever was in the public eye, there were days you could almost see the pressure of all her responsibilities crushing her and so you tried your best to lift her spirits, even if just for a minute.

So you found yourself worrying about her ever so often, especially in these days before the annual company gala that marked the begging of the Christmas holidays, you hadn’t been able to see her in days and apparently she had been a no show in the office too.

“So are you gonna go in a suit or a dress?”

Chaeyoung stared at you from her desk chewing on a piece of gum as she waited on the phone after having been put on hold by a client,

“To be honest yesterday I got my paycheck and I think I might treat myself for once.”

Her eyes sparkled at your words, she wasn’t known as the queen of shopping for no reason, you didn’t even answer her question as the little clock on your desktop struck twelve thirty, hurrying towards the elevator you hoped she would be in today and as the familiar doors to her office finally came into view a light excitement bubbled in your chest,

but as soon as it had arrived it left when you saw Jeonghwa with a stressed out expression, disheveled hair, speaking on two phones at the same time, her face falling as she met your eyes, shaking her head was all she needed to do and you turned on your heels, anger rising in your chest.

You considered Heeyeon a friend now and the fact that you hadn’t heard anything from her in a while bothered you immensely, mostly because you knew you had absolutely no right to feel that way, she owed you nothing an saw you most probably as a friendly colleague whom made for a bit of fun at work, she didn’t have to explain anything to you and somehow that made your ribcage tighten in your chest, painfully suffocating your heart.

On the night of the gala you would have gladly stayed at home in your pijama with some takeaway and Netflix, but the expensive jumpsuit sitting in your closet since the day before was enough to motivate you, plus the fact that ever since last year this event had been decreted mandatory for all Ahn Corporate employees.

So you suited up, the black one piece fitting you in all the right places, intricate lace designs played a big part, a large slit in the back dipping low had convinced you it was absolutely worth the money, knowing you would definitely be getting some attention you grabbed your red bottom stilettos, a clutch and shouted a quick goodbye to your cat before leaving.

“Is there anything better than free food?”

Chaeyoung was barely visible behind the mountain of mashed potatoes, but the excitement in her voice was evident, Heechul sat down next you and plopped two large bottles of champagne on the round table you and another three colleagues had been designated for the night,

“Yes, free alcohol.”

You ignored his stink eye as you downed your glass, nerves settling in your belly as the moment for the annual big speech approached, in which Heeyeon and her brother would as per usual announce some big plans for the future ahead, and as the lights in the large hall dimmed and the loud chatter from the hundreds of people present turned to light whispers you knew it was time, and you found yourself quite pathetic for being so damn excited to see her.

Loud cheers and applause were heard as the siblings made their entrance on the small stage on which the band had just been playing, your heart stopped.

Her hair was no longer white as snow but it gradually turned to pink and purple hues that cascaded down her back, the white suite she was was wearing complemented the new hairstyle perfectly, she exuded confidence and sophistication as she caught everybody’s attention, a black lace bralette could be seen peeking out from under the white blazer.

In that moment you felt as if someone had just made you swallow three liters of pure emotions and you couldn’t breathe, what you felt for her was something completely new to you and incredibly scary, so before you made a fool of yourself by throwing up in front of everybody you grabbed your clutch and made and escape towards a terrace you had spotted a couple of smokers at earlier, unknowingly catching the attention of a few people, Ahn Heeyeon included.

Walking on a terrace in the middle of the night with nothing but a jumpsuit probably wasn’t the best idea, but you braved through the cold and rested your arms against the railings, relishing in the fresh air that let you breathe peacefully and allowed you to collect your thoughts.

It wasn’t long before your little moment of peace was interrupted by the clicking of heels on the tiled floor and a feminine presence settling next to you as you felt a soft blazer being rested on your shoulders, the pleasant heat enveloping you in a second, her light perfume ever so present.

“You look beautiful tonight.”

As hard as you tried you couldn’t avoid the blush that crept onto your face when she said that, her shoulder touching your own as you both faced the garden underneath,

“You’ve been busy.”

A long sigh followed your statement and then more silence,

“I‘ve had a lot to do and to think about Y/N, but let me tell you I missed our lunches more than anything ever.”

You let a small laugh escape you, it was useless to even try and stay angry at her for literally no reason whatsoever,

“I like your new hair.”

“I like you Y/N.”

Her heavy words hung in the silence, the chatter from inside muted by your heart beating loudly in your ears, debating whether or not to pinch yourself you turned towards her, mouth agape she stared directly at you,

“I have for a while now, and I know for a fact that I need you in my life to remind me how happy I can really be, and I know you like to take your time with things but for this once I need your answer immediately Y/N.”

For once in your life you didn’t hesitate as you delicately grabbed her chin and pulled her face against yours, lips crashing together you cherished her taste as your other hand moved to the soft baby hairs at the back of her neck, while hers held your body tight against hers.

You broke the kiss and stared in her dark eyes, being able to recognize the fondness she felt for you, something ever so strong pulled the two of you back together, her lips moving passionately against yours as she trapped you against the railing, her cold fingers against your back, you poked your tongue through and she did the same, something deep in your stomach took over as your teeth clashed and both your breaths became heavier, but something seemed to click in Heeyeon’s brain as she pulled away, resting her forehead against your own,

“How about we take this some other place a bit warmer, like my apartment.”

You couldn’t help the toothy smile that graced your features as your fingers played with the hoops on her trouser,

“Can you even ditch your own gala?”

her breath hit your lips as she giggled lightly, placing a chaste kiss on your lips she grabbed your wrist and pulled you away, you followed like a puppy,

“I’m the boss jagi, I can do whatever I want.”

[missingpersonsblog]

Bianca Elaine Lebron

Missing Since: November 7, 2001

Missing From: Bridgeport, Connecticut

Sex: Female

Race/Ethnicity: Hispanic/Latino

Missing Age: 10 years old

Current Age: 29 years old

Height and Weight: 4’11” and 115 lbs.

Distinctive Physical Features: Brown hair, hazel eyes, birthmark on her forehead

Clothing and Accessories: Beige pants, a beige and green shirt, dark blue jeans, black boots

Transportation: May have stepped into an old brown van/minivan with several sanded areas, tinted windows and chrome trim on its sides.

Circumstances of Disappearance: Bianca Elaine Lebron lived in Bridgeport, Connecticut close to the Milford and Trumbull Malls. She lived with her mother Carmelita Torres and her stepfather, Angelo Garcia. Carmelita had an amicable relationship with Bianca’s biological father, Wilberto Lebron.

People described Bianca as having high self-esteem and being very outgoing. She loved to sing and dance. She loved to play teacher with the younger children in her family. She enjoyed shopping at the mall and her favorite color was purple.

Bianca was a fifth grade student at Elias Howe School on Clinton Avenue, where she did very well. It was very unusual for her to miss school for any reason. She was never known to skip class.

Bianca went to school on November 7, 2001. She was waiting in line to enter the school when she told her teacher and her friends that her uncle was going to take her shopping that day. She invited her friends to come but they declined.

At 8:30 a.m., Bianca got into a dark colored vehicle with tinted windows, driven by an adult male. Classes had not started yet.

Most of the witnesses who saw Bianca get into the van were children. The driver was depicted as a Hispanic male who appeared to be between 20-30 years old. They said he was between 5’8 and 5’11 with an average build. He had medium brown skin. He had short, black curly hair with sideburns that went down to his chin. He had brown eyes and a prominent nose. He wore a beard. He had scratches on the left side of his nose and on his right cheek. He did not try to conceal his face or clothes from witnesses.

The school community assumed the man was Bianca’s uncle. They did nothing to prove the man’s identity, and let Bianca go with him without question.

Bianca’s family members would eventually tell authorities that the young girl did not have an uncle. They do not know anyone who owns a van similar to the one the man drove.

Bianca’s teacher marked her as absent that day, so school administrators did not recognize she was missing until the next day. The school was heavily criticized for how they treated Bianca that day. People were particularly upset that the young girl was allowed to go with an unknown adult without anyone verifying his identity. Bianca’s teacher was suspended with pay after the incident. New attendance policies and security measures were put in place after the abduction. The school has since closed, boarded up, and abandoned.

Bianca’s family noticed she was missing about 4:30 pm on November 7th, 2001. They initially thought the girl was at a friend’s house and that she forgot to call. The girl often went to relatives’ houses after school, so her family wasn’t concerned. She had even disappeared overnight before, but was eventually found at a friend’s house. When Bianca didn’t come home by 8:30 p.m., Carmelita became concerned. She called the authorities and reported the girl missing at 10:24 pm that night. 

An immediate nationwide search occurred. Her family put up several flyers for her. Bridgeport Police and the Center for Missing and Exploited Children also hung up flyers. Flyers were posted on the front door of her home, her family painted “Bianca we love you” on the side of the house. Yellow ribbons were placed at the entrance of the school in remembrance of the girl.

Bianca was featured on several television shows. She was featured on America’s Most Wanted in February of 2002. It took months for the young girl to be profiled because the show had focused on 9/11 up to that point.

Bianca’s mother had the girl declared legally dead so she could sue the school for wrongful death. The suit also listed the assistant principal and the teacher involved as defendants. The City of Bridgeport settled and paid the girl’s family $750,000 due to negligence.

Bianca’s mother believes the girl is still alive.

Law enforcement does not suspect Bianca’s mother, father, or stepfather in the case.

In late April of 2002, police announced that they wanted to question Jason Gonzalez, a 20 year old, in the case. Jason’s original last name was “Lara.” At first the investigators stressed that he was not considered a suspect in the case; they stated he was an acquaintance of the girl and may be able to help find her.

Jason resembled the sketch of the Hispanic man in the van. His friend owned a van that was similar to the one Bianca got into on November 7th. He lived in Bridgeport at the time Bianca went missing. He left the city about a month after the young girl went missing. Bianca’s great uncle was dating Jason’s mother. The young girl met Jason due to this relationship.

Bianca’s loved ones stated Jason was Bianca’s “secret boyfriend.” Her friends stated she had a crush on the older boy. The man saw the young girl frequently. They had been seen kissing.

Sonia, Bianca’s grandmother stated that she felt Bianca was familiar with Jason and probably trusted him enough to leave the school with him. Bianca’s great aunt, Nancy Reboira commented, “We think they got the right person. He looks just like the guy in the sketch.”

Jason’s fiancee, Corey Vitti, says that these allegations are false. They had been together for three years at the time. Corey claims she saw the girl in passing a couple times during the summer before her disappearance. Corey stated that she was with Jason when he was with the young girl. Corey and Jason have a son, Jordan. The accusations led to a feud between the two families.

By October 2003, police still had not questioned Jason about the case. By that point, he had gone to jail on drug charges.

In November of 2003, Jason called the Bridgeport police and denied any knowledge or involvement in Bianca’s case. The police traced his call to Fort Myers, Florida. They went to the address they could locate for him, but realized he had moved. They obtained a photo of him and learned he was using the last name Gonzalez instead of Lara. During their search, they found out he was dating a 53 year old, who told them if anything ever happened to her, Jason did it and that she felt he was capable of violence. She said she overheard Jason talking to a mutual friend and saying he wanted a younger girlfriend.

Jason was eventually found and arrested for an unrelated charge of second-degree forgery (he used the name Gonzalez while turning in a fingerprint card instead of using his actual last name, Lara). The police pursued these charges because they hoped that they could transfer the man to Bridgeport for questioning after he was arrested.

Jason was eventually questioned intensely about the young girl’s disappearance, but he was not very cooperative. A police spokeswoman, Shilea Santiago, said, “We’re trying to get him to come around.” His lawyer’s goal was to clear him of any suspicion in the case. The man had an alibi for the time the young girl went missing, so he was cleared of the crime. He pled guilty to a charge of interfering with a police officer and received a suspended sentence in December of 2003.

After Jason was released for that crime, he told the newspaper the Connecticut Post that he did not know anything about Bianca’s disappearance. His mother told the newspaper the same thing.

Jason was arrested in July of 2011 on unrelated burglary charges.

Jason has a long criminal history, and had been convicted for several crimes before Bianca went missing. He was sentenced to seven years in 1998 for carjacking two elderly women who resided in Fairfield, Connecticut, a town that’s about ten minutes away from Bridgeport. He was released from prison early - he was out by November, 2001, when Bianca went missing.

Police received a tip that Bianca was buried in Seaside Park in Bridgeport. The park is two-and-a-half miles long and crescent shaped. It borders Bridgeport Harbor, Long Island Sound, and Black Rock Harbor. In July of 2009 state and local police dug up large holes in the ground on one side of the park which faced Seabright Avenue and faced the shoreline.

Bianca’s family still lives in the home the girl resided in in 2001.

Bianca’s family kept the presents they were going to give her for Christmas that year, including a set of speakers.

Two of Bianca’s great uncles died two months after she went missing.

Her whole family hopes she is found someday.

Eight months after Bianca disappeared, her family celebrated her eleventh birthday. They lit a single candle for Bianca, and like any other day, waited for word about her. At that time, it had been several weeks since the police got a solid tip about the case.

They also gathered around religious statues and pictures and prayed for Bianca’s safe return.

Bianca’s school put a sign outside to mark the anniversary, but there was no formal observance.

When Police Detective John Burke, a member of the Youth Bureau, took over the case in 2011, there were 50 cardboard boxes filled with reports and notes on the case. He had a large bulletin board filled with photos and recreations of Bianca, Bianca’s family tree (which was prepared by the FBI,) and sketches of possible suspects.

Police Detective John Burke said, “It’s still an open case, we field tips from the National Center for Missing and Exploited Children and we get phone calls all of the time. Some people are crazy, but we still have to check them out.”

At one point someone in an internet chat room claimed they saw a picture that looked like Bianca. The police followed the lead to New Mexico, but nothing came of it. “But even the little things like that are investigated,” Police Detective John Burke said.

“She’s got to be somewhere, either dead or alive. I want to believe she is alive, but that’s because I am a positive thinker, but statistically it’s against her being alive. But I want to hope that she is.” Police Detective John Burke says.

In 2014 police again reopened the case.

Wilberto Lebron, Bianca’s father, relocated to Florida after Bianca went missing. He does not let his three other children walk to school, which is only a mile away from his new home. He does not let them ride the school bus. He brings them to school everyday and escorts them inside. He watches them like a hawk. He says, “I am hyper vigilant about looking out for them because of Bianca. I don’t trust anyone. And I won’t let them go on certain school trips - to zoos and museums. My kids lead a solitary life because of what happened to their sister.”

Wilberto used to contact the police twice a week about the case, but his calls eventually dwindled. Carmelita has not given Wilberto her new number, so he can only contact her through her attorney.

“I really think she’s alive somewhere,” Wilberto says, “and the police are not getting cooperation from [Carmelita’s] family. There’s somebody with this secret. Somebody knows something. I feel like it’s in their face and they’re not looking.”

The reward currently being offered in the case is $64,000.

Bianca’s family has suggested from the beginning that Bianca’s case has not gotten much attention because she is Hispanic.

Please contact the Bridgeport Police Department at (203) 581-5100 if you have any information regarding the disappearance of Bianca Elaine Lebron.

Sources: NamUs, r/UnresolvedMysteries

[alexipsych-blog]

Doubting Margaret

“And in Revelation chapter twenty-one, verse eight he says, ‘But the fearful, and unbelieving, and the abominable, and murderers, and fornicators, and sorcerers, and idolaters, and all liars, shall have their part in the lake which burns with fire and brimstone: which is the second death.’”

I can still hear the muffled voice of the man with the Texas drawl on the television preaching or ranting about something. I recall that he looked and sounded eerily similar to Ted Cruz. As a kid, I never really understood what they were talking about. I knew it had something to do with God and Jesus. I figured I was safe anyway. My mom believed in God and I heard that meant I got off scot-free with the Lord too. I believed in God, I think. Though it might’ve just been that I feared what my mom might do if she ever thought I didn’t. She doesn’t speak very kindly of people who don’t believe in God. Sometimes she spoke badly of people who say they did, but I figured this meant she knew the truth. She wouldn’t stand for secrets.

I never truly understood church growing up. At least not my mom’s. All my friends in school always talked about having Sunday school, and some even got to hang out at church together. My younger sister, Elizabeth, and I were the youngest people in my mom’s church, next to our cousins five and ten years older than me, and then the rest were all over thirty-five. I did get to put a ton of time into my Pokémon Fire Red game. Mom would let Elizabeth and me bring our games and toys to church to keep us busy. I think she just didn’t want us causing a scene or being too loud or doing normal kid things that kids do on Saturdays, so we played quietly. Aunt Christie never let our cousins, first Jenny, then Henry, do anything but sit quietly. I remember being reprimanded by Aunt Christie for asking Henry to check out my awesome Charizard during the sermon. She told me, “You ought to listen too, before it’s too late.”

“In Jeremiah the Lord speaks of false prophets and commands to not pay them any attention. In chapter twenty-three, verse six, ‘Thus said the Lord of hosts, listen not to the words of the prophets that prophesy to you: they make you vain: they speak a vision of their own heart, and not out of the mouth of the Lord.’”

Every Saturday morning, because the real believers worship on the “sabbath,” mom’s church met in a sterile conference room at a chain hotel, right next to a mall. They never appointed an actual pastor to speak, and they would get extremely offended if you called one of their sermon-givers a “pastor” or a “priest.” Those words belong to the vocabulary of “false teachings.” So instead of an actual human delivering the spiritual message, the church videotaped sermons from a small group of the same believers in Texas. My Uncle Joe, husband to my Aunt Nancy, held a somewhat high rank in the church, I think, so he did most of the choosing the sermons and setting them up. He just had to pop a VHS into the player and boom; there was the insta-preacher. I remember seeing churches with beautiful architecture or with funny names like, “Our Lady of Perpetual Helpfulness,” and I remember asking my mom why we never went to a normal church like my friends at school. She would tell me that all the other people who called themselves Christians really just followed a false teaching. Her church knew the actual truth and no one else. I couldn’t seem to figure out why they didn’t seem to do anything to spread their truths, though.

“The Lord commands that we do not partake in the ways of the heathen. Jeremiah chapter ten, verses one and two, ‘Hear you the word which the Lord speaks to you, O house of Israel: Thus said the Lord, Learn not the way of the heathen, and be not dismayed at the signs of heaven; for the heathen are dismayed at them.’ And now if you look down at verse four the Lord directly addresses what the false Christians call ‘Christmas decorations.’ ‘They deck it with silver and gold; they fasten it with nails and with hammers, that it move not.’”

My Dad attended church with my mom, my sister, and me a handful of times, but he refused to buy what the church was selling. Dad’s parents raised him as a Southern Baptist and he believes firmly in God, but he always said, “It’s not about what church you go to or how renowned you are. What matters is your personal relationship with the Lord and his son, Jesus.” I just always nodded and pretended to understand what it meant to have a personal relationship with some all-powerful entity who may or may not actually exist. Dad never really dogged either Elizabeth or me when it came to religion, and I feel like had he raised me in a normal Baptist church that I may have matured into a faithful adult.

We celebrated Christmas growing up because Dad insisted that Elizabeth and I at least get that experience. Who doesn’t love Christmas? My mother always had some protest, telling my sister and I when we were maybe seven and ten years old, “You know the ornaments are supposed to represent eggs. And look at the shape of the ‘cute’ little lights you dress the tree up with. What do those look like to you?” Every year she loved to ruin the Christmas spirit with, “We’re not supposed to try to guess Jesus’s birthday. It’s not for us to know. The Bible says he was born when the lambs were biting in the fields, and that’s all we get. Do you think lambs are out and about in December?” I always thought of it as symbolic. We decorate and give each other gifts on this placeholder for Jesus’s birthday.

“Wouldn’t Jesus be sad if no one cared enough to celebrate his birthday at all though?” I asked once.

“He’s probably angry that people partake of these blasphemous pagan rituals in His name.” I never understood why I could never get a satisfactory answer to any religious question.

Two years in a row, mom became especially paranoid and deluded about Christmas. My sister and I both came down with the flu two years in a row around Christmastime. “This must be my punishment for allowing this nonsense in my household,” she would say. She would become hysteric at times, believing that she indirectly caused my sister and I to fall ill. The second year it happened, I Googled when flu season comes around. I found it confusing that the peak of infections happens during December. I began to think that maybe my mom and her church people had things confused.

“The Lord is a jealous and angry God. He will punish those who wrong him. In 2 Samuel chapter twelve, verse fourteen, David is told he will be punished for adultery. ‘However, because this deed you have given great occasion to the enemies of the Lord to blaspheme, the child also that is born to you shall surely die.’ He tells us he will destroy everything because of our sinfulness, but he shall discern the lambs from the goats. Isaiah chapter twenty-four, ‘Behold, the Lord makes the earth empty, and makes it waste, and turns it upside down, and scatters abroad the inhabitants thereof...The earth is also defiled under the inhabitants thereof; because they have transgressed the laws, changed the ordinance, broken the everlasting covenant.”

Every church I ever attended talked about the mercifulness and love of God first and foremost. Mom’s church depicted him to be vengeful. I think they wanted subordination through fear, and it worked. As the oldest sibling, I had a rough transition into sisterhood. I used to think cruel thoughts about my sister because she seemed to matter more to my parents. All the while the idea that God could read my mind and potentially punish me for those thoughts terrified me. I never truly felt safe. My mom would tell me, “You never know when God might answer a prayer or give you punishment. It’s on His terms.” I felt like a trapped animal under this god.

During the services, they focused heavily on Revelation and all the tragedy and destruction that God would bring. I never really learned the Bible stories kids usually learn, like Jonah and the whale, and I at first thought David stayed in the lion’s den, but that was Daniel. It mattered apparently. I did get to hear the story of Sodom and Gomorrah. The god I’m supposed to love and worship destroyed two whole cities in a tantrum. There was also the story of God commanding Abraham to sacrifice Isaac basically as a joke. That one terrified me the most. I remember the first time I heard that story I hoped God wouldn’t talk to mom and tell her to burn me alive. She and her group of fanatics would have done it if they believed God said so.

These stories made me angry. They made me question. My mom punished me for asking certain questions, however.

“Why would God terrify Abraham’s son just to make sure he remained faithful?”

“We cannot know God’s intentions. We just need to listen and obey as best we can.”

“And why would he kill all those people in those cities? Isn’t he supposed to forgive?”

“Those ‘people’ were disgusting heathens. Some things are unforgivable.”

“I thought Jesus died on the cross so we could all be forgiven?”

“You know he wasn’t crucified on a cross. It was an upright pale. I taught you better than that.” Crosses were pagan symbols to this church as well. They considered depictions of Jesus blasphemous as well. “They always paint him with long hair like a woman. The Bible says it is disgraceful for a man to look like a woman.”

“The Bible also says you shouldn’t sell things at the church. There was that part where Jesus went table flippin’.”

“That’s different. Our church sells booklets about the truth. The money goes to the church.”

I remember the exact moment I decided I wanted nothing to do with my mom’s church. Of course, I wouldn’t have any say in the matter anyway. I just would keep my first secret from mom.

The Ted Cruz-esque preacher played on the television while a thirteen-year old Margaret sat in an uncomfortable metal hotel chair enjoying catching Moltres on Mt. Ember when he said something that caught my ear, “I just don’t understand these kids out here chopping up their arms and acting like they have nothing to be happy about. It’s just ungrateful and disrespectful.” I remember pulling my sleeves over my hands, the abrasive fabric scratching at my struggle with self-harm. I realized then this church didn’t want me, God didn’t want me, and frankly I didn’t want or need either one. Even as a kid trying to figure out why I felt so tired and sad all the time, I still understood I didn’t deserve the way that “sermon” made me feel. I think some time later the preacher started talking about the butterflies he sees on his porch every morning.

They have the market cornered on faith and religion though. Try convincing them otherwise.

[blue--green]

FAQs

GENERAL

You didn’t write back to me! Yes I know and I am SO sorry!  Believe me – it’s not you.  I never stop writing to someone because of them – if I don’t want to write to you, I will tell you.  I stop writing because I am mentally ill and sometimes (more often than I’d like) the world gets on top of me.  

Why do you have anon on? anon hate, babe. But I’m shy and I want to send you a message… Send it anyway!  Just tell me not to post it, and unless you’re being a dick to me, I won’t. But please understand that I might not reply.  Not because of you!  But because I just don’t always have it in me to reply.  I have literally hundreds of messages in my inbox and dozens of unanswered personal messages.  It’s killing me – you all deserve answers.  I’m mentally ill.  Sometimes I just can’t. And just know that I can’t remember my own birthdate or how to spell my surname – there is nothing you could send me more embarrassing than that!

  WRITING

You’re a writer? Yes and I have had some things published under a pseudonym that I will never reveal – don’t bother asking.  But that was a long time ago.  I write fanfic and my own original work as well.  Here’s a masterpost of what I’ve put up online and here’s my AO3 I’m not the greatest writer, but I do love writing.  

Will you tag me in your writing? Yes but only if you like one of my tagging posts.  Please don’t just tell me to tag you on the end of one of my stories – I’m terrible at keeping track of everything, so those posts are my way of doing it. - Here’s the post to like if you want to be tagged in everything I write (this has links to all the other pages too) - Here’s the post to like if you want to be tagged in my MMFD writing only - Here’s the post to like if you want to be tagged in my Skyrim writing only - Here’s the post to like if you want to be tagged in my Elsa stories only

Are you ever going to finish X story? Yes. My brain is run by a dozen angry goblins who fight and squabble over who gets to drive the meat sack body at any given time.  Each one of these goblins has their own idea for a story and they won’t shut up until it’s completely done.  However sometimes one goblin is more in control and sometimes another goblin is more in charge - and I have no choice but to listen to whatever goblin is in charge. I always finish every story I start – it just takes varying degrees of time.  I’m usually working on at least half a dozen different stories at any given time – it’s the way my brain is – I have to get the stories out.  

I love your OC can I do a faceclaim? Please please please do! tag me in it.  I love seeing who you think would play them in a movie / tv series. I generally love all faceclaims unless you whitewash my oc.  Generally the race of my oc’s can’t be changed because it matters to their identity and the way the world treats them.  but if you are wanting to change the race of my characters – don’t whitewash.

I head cannon your oc as trans / queer / not-white AWESOME!  Tell me all about it!! Love it!

I have this little head cannon drabble about your oc… Write it and send it to me – I bet I’ll love it!  I get so excited for this stuff!!  If you decide to post it, just link back to the work of mine you got inspired by!

 How do you come up with ideas?  How do you write so much, so fast? I honestly don’t know. my head is a jungle (with goblins in it).  I often wonder how people don’t write like me - how do you keep all this noise in your heads?! (But apparently not everyone has this much noise in their heads.) I have a lot of insomnia and night terrors – some of my ideas come from those. \ But some just come from the goblins in my head. And for writing I just – plant the seeds and let the characters take me where they will. Sometimes they go places I didn’t expect.  I might have a trellis set up for them, but it sometimes (often) grows elsewhere and I have to move my trellis. It’s why my stories are so messy and long. I just trust myself / my head / my shitty typing fingers to tell the stories.

Why do you write so many love triangles? I know – that evil love triangle trope! I hate them.  if I have to see one more conventionally attractive, thin, white, woman in a love triangle I might punch someone named Jennifer… Yes we get it – the skinny white girl is what every man wants and no one has ever heard of a healthy polyamorous relationship - ever! BUT!  there are women out there that are never told that they are beautiful or desirable.  Big women (fat or muscular).  Women of colour.  Disabled women.  etc.  I like seeing them be loved by lots of people. Sometimes that ends up in some poly love.  Sometimes it ends up in a love triangle or love circle or love square or whatever. I want women that are never seen in positions of being loveable and desirable to see that in my writing.  

Why do you write about so many traumatic things? I may have experienced a little trauma in my life.  Writing about traumatic things is free therapy for me.  I try to do it in a responsible way.

Why do you write about bigotry etc so much? Because it exists in the world and I refuse to pretend it doesn’t or that it isn’t evil. I’ve experienced bigotry, I’ve witnessed it, I want bigotry to die in a ditch.  As with trauma, I try to write about it in a responsible way.  

How do you write such great sex? 1. I write what turns me on. 2. I’m not embarrassed by sex or by being turned on or by my own lusty thoughts. 3. I’ve had a lot of sex and sometimes (a little too often) I just write something I’ve already done.

 Why do you never edit your stories? My brain can’t focus on that – I have to get the next story out. I try not to make too many typos, but I know I do make them and I’m sorry.  

Can I make a donation to you? I am so poor – yes please!!! I made one of those ‘Buy Me a Coffee’ accounts - here

  PERSONAL

You’re sick? What happened? Are you ok? I had a staph infection (beginning of September 2017) and it went through my whole body and I went into multi-organ failure (heart and lungs).  I’ve been in and out of hospital and am still quite sick, but I’m also on the mend. Photos of me in December 2017 with my oxygen thingy Name? Emma. Star sign? Scorpio

What’s your personality type? Here’s a bunch of tests I took and results: MBTI - INFP-T 4 Temperaments – melancholic Hogwarts House – Ravenclaw Moral Alignment – Chaotic Good RHETI (Enneagram) – Types 1,2 & 4 were tied and all apply to me.  Type 5 was also tied, but applies a little less.

Country ‘Straya mate (Australia)

Do you have any pets? A kitty named Vincent – he’s the best.

Age? Probably older than you (in my late 30s.)  If you’re a minor and you don’t want me to follow you – just let me know.  

Relationship status? well after ten years with a guy named ben, he cheated on me for a year with a girl literally 20 years younger then me, and less than a month after he’d dumped me he went overseas with her to celebrate their 1 year anniversary. he left me while he was my sole care (multi-organ failure and severe mental illness) and the only source of income and also while i was at high risk of suicide.  he told me he loved me every day of our relationship - even on the day he left me.  i thought we would be together for the rest of our lives, i believed in our vows and working through our problems, but on the last day of 2017, he ended it all.  needless to say 2018 has been pretty fucking shitty.  i am at risk of homelessness and i have zero income and i’m sick as fuck. thanks ben.

sexuality? I realised I was bisexual when I was about 15.  In my late 20s when I heard of pansexual I found that I liked it and it applied to me, but I couldn’t let go of bisexual.  So I kept it.  they are both mine mwahahahaha – oh those greedy bi’s! also happy to be called queer. and on that topic - every word in the mouths of those that hate us is a slur.  i will not give them back ‘queer’ when i spent so long claiming it as mine.  they don’t get to control me. 

Are you actually fat?  Some of your pics don’t make you look fat? It’s just angles. Last time I got weighed I was 188 kilos (414 pounds) – that was at fertility doctor’s office and she told me that I shouldn’t’ be allowed to have kids cos I was fat, that fat women produced malformed kids, and likened fat parents to abusive parents.  Awesome day – I didn’t at all cry on that day.  Not once.  I put on a bit of weight then lost some since then, so I have no idea how much I weigh now and I don’t care. I follow Health at Every Size principles and since I’ve been doing that my health has improved so much over what it was when I was hating myself and trying to lose weight. Even my doctor admits that and he was staunchly against me quitting dieting and going HAES.  Now I’m trying to love myself.  And for reference – here are the pics of me

Don’t you know that you’re killing yourself being fat? I didn’t know being skinny made you immortal?? Amazing! Fuck off. Or if you want to educate yourself on why I think the way I do – start here (big fat science)

You’re mentally ill? Yep.  Diagnosed by doctor and psychologist (although I did self diagnose beforehand.  I was right so *shrugs*)

I have - C-PTSD (formally diagnosed as PTSD because C-PTSD is not recognised by the DSM, but my shrink thinks it should be and thinks I have C-PTSD), depression, anxiety, agoraphobia, depersonalisation disorder, pain disorder, excoriation disorder, claustrophobia, nyctophobia and a bunch of other things - she actually just had to write a massive letter to support me getting a disability pension - there was so much stuff on it!  i’m messed up apparently!

It’s super fun being me.

How did you get PTSD? (C-PTSD) Boy is that a story!

My half-brother Is ten years older than me raped me repeatedly when I was a child – until I was about 12 – my earliest memory is when I was about 4 and I was pleading with my parents to not make me go camping in the back yard with him alone, because I knew he’d do it to me again – but I told them it was because I was afraid of the dark.  I told my mother when I was 10 years old what he was doing – I said he ‘got on top of me and went up and down and it hurts’ – she didn’t believe me.  It kept happening.  He also like to lock me in dark closets for hours and he tried to set me on fire a few times.  Fun times (sarcasm)

My father Huge temper problem – like to use his belt to beat me – my half-brother would sometimes protect me and take the beating for me.  Wanna guess how much that messed me up? One time he nearly strangled me to death for wearing too many necklaces (which according to him made me look like a slut) – my mother had to pull him off me as I passed out He had a problem with me closing doors – my bedroom, the bathroom… which wasn’t a problem until I went through puberty.  Then he’d comment on how my body was changing – my breasts coming in, my pubic hair etc and of I was beautiful yet (I wasn’t – I never was) Always made me feel a bit icky when he hugged me, like he was copping a feel, squeezing too tight – those sorts of things.  But I always distrust these memories.  Bottom line – I don’t like believing all this bad shit about my dad.  so I always try to minimise it. Every time my mum did something bad to me and I asked him to protect me, he’d agree she was wrong, but tell me he loved her more than me so I was on my own.  The first time I remember him telling me that – I was 7.  Calls my mother stupid and hard to live with, constantly puts her down to her face and to me.  Punched holes in walls when I upset him. Told me doing drugs was fun – when I was 10.  Guess who did a lot of drugs?  Me. Verbally harangues and abuses me to this day.  My current partner says that’s he very demeaning and terrifying when he gets going. Makes excuses about his horrible child-hood giving him temper issues.  He’s been telling me horror stories from his childhood since I was a kid – it was too much for a kid to deal with. When I told him (as an adult) what my half-brother did to me he said he hadn’t known and if he had he would have done something – he agreed to never mention my half-brother’s name again or talk about him to me, and to try and get mum to comply – I’d been asking them for years to stop talking about him to me. I had a shining moment of feeling like I had an actual real father for once.  And then a few weeks later he told me that my step-brother had been raped by his father as a child and it messed him up.  I said it didn’t excuse what he did to me. So he went on to say that when he (as in my father) was a kid, his father had raped all of his sisters, and since he was the only boy, he wondered why his daddy didn’t love him.  Then he started naming my rapist repeatedly.  I’m not sure what he was trying to say with all of this – but it painfully reminded me that I in fact do not have a real father.  

My mother Was an alcoholic (sober now), who beat me, made me do all the housework (and she liked the place to be hospital clean – I was doing housework from about 5 or 6 years old), told me in detail about her sex life, and then her lack of sex life when her and dad stopped having sex (they stopped having sex when I was 16), emotionally manipulated me, used guilt constantly – even to this day, screamed and cried at me constantly… lots of emotional and mental abuse at her hands.  

Fun family. My therapist said I was surrounded by three abusers and had no safety except when one of my abusers chose to protect me from one of my other abusers.  It’s left me with a few problems.  To say the least.  I moved out at 18 by marrying a guy so I could get the fuck away from my parents.  He was emotionally distant and judgemental of my sexuality.  I stayed with him far too long because he was safe in comparison to what I’d had so far. I did the strong, repression, that childhood didn’t get me down until I was in my 20s.  had lots of sex and friends, did career things I loved in theatre and writing. Eventually needed to make real money do got an office job.  Got bullied there. Got into another job. Got bullied there. Ended up having a mental breakdown and all of this stuff came flooding in on me.  Because I never had dealt with it all – I’d just repressed it. Now in my 30s I am finally trying to actually deal with it all.  I married another guy who i thought was a good guy - who promised me everything. who told me i was safe with him, and that i coudl trust him and that he’d be with me forever. but he cheated on me for a year and dumped me after 10 years together.  knowing the trust issues and trauma background i have, he knowingly and willingly added to it by cheating on me and lying to my face for a whole year.  so that’s added to my problems! and that’s without going into the details of the problems in the relationship.  like i did things sexually for him that i woudln’t have done for anyone else because i felt like i didn’t deserve him.  and he knew that... and it kept happening anyway.  i need so much therapy!

I have real problems forming normal healthy relationships, but I have built up some close friends around me that I think of as my family, cos fuck my blood my blood relatives.  Seriously.

Can I ask you a question about your mental health / trauma? You can, but I might not answer.  It depends on where I’m at when you ask, what you’re asking, and how you ask.  It also depends on how much anxiety my inbox / messages are giving me – sometimes I just can’t look at it.

 If you have any other questions you’d like added to this, send me a message!

 I love you all – thank you for reading this!!