#this is not meant to shame anyone with addictions or to say that I’m morally better than anyone

[glittertimes]

As a 24 year old I’m kind of over drinking culture. The last time I really drank it took me a week to recover from it loll, I’ve been getting really dizzy since a covid infection 2 years ago, and I had a really bad flare-up a month ago after celebrating a friends birthday.

But even before that I drank pretty minimally and I didn’t like how my friends put the responsibility of caring for them on me when they put themselves in harmful situations. I’m always going to be there for my friends, but it takes a toll caring for people and watching them not have that same care for themselves.

And then it’s funny and normalized when people drink all the time.

[sineala]

Diff anon, I think Tony was always a playboy even in his older characterisation. He is a sex addict but also a serial monogamist .. it’s not exclusive. Tony did have deep relationship and love for his exes but they don’t last long anyway .. what’s his longest on panel love interest ? Rumiko? On-off .. and it was a mess .. I don’t think he can maintain long lasting relationships. Can he stay in a relationship without cheating? Yes. Can he stay in a relationship for too long? No.

I’ll agree with you that Tony does seem to have difficulties staying in one relationship for a long time but I don’t think that makes him a sex addict -- I think that just makes him bad at relationships. (And also bad at dating people who aren’t trying to murder him.) And I don’t think being a playboy makes him a sex addict either. And, I mean, you’re free to disagree, of course, but I can tell you exactly why I think that.

When Tony was first created, sure, he was meant to be a playboy -- but this was 1963. He was, perhaps, interested in pursuing the finer things in life, or at least being seen to be doing so -- since in the comics of the time he is also pretty clear that this is a public persona -- and his name may have been linked with a lot of different women, but to the best of my understanding, the morals of the time would have meant that he probably wasn’t sleeping with them. The sex was not actually required, at the time, and I think it would have been scandalous for the reputations of the women involved to suggest that he was sleeping with them. Sure, maybe he took different women to different galas, or what have you, but it’s not necessarily the case that he took them home with him afterwards.

In fact, I am pretty sure you are not going to find any canonical evidence of Tony sleeping around in early 616, because the Comics Code was in full force, and depictions of sex outside of marriage were one of the things that was frowned on. I don’t know when Marvel actually started depicting sex at all, or at least implying that sex happened between unmarried people -- the Code was nominally in force for a whole lot longer than anyone actually really cared about it -- but I would guess probably by the 80s. Definitely by 1980, actually, because the entire unfortunate plot of Avengers #200 hinges on Carol being pregnant. Maybe the 70s, then. But there is probably at least a decade where we definitely do not have data that would say that Tony was sleeping with anyone at all.

And even if we don’t have evidence from early 616 itself, I am confident based on depictions and flashbacks from later in canon that there was a period of time -- which, the way the Sliding Timescale works, probably lasted at least a few years -- in which Tony, absolutely, definitely was not sleeping with anyone, and this is because he was wearing the chestplate. He literally did not want anyone to touch him because they would feel the chestplate. Iron Man #244 contains a flashback to him greeting his fiancée on his return from Vietghanistan -- and he absolutely refuses to let her touch him:

This... is not a guy who is casually sleeping around. Or sleeping with anybody. At all. Even his fiancée.

We can also take a look at evidence from modern retellings of Tony’s origin story that are modern enough that they are allowed to mention sex. Iron Man Season One is absolutely not 616-canonical but it is a retelling of Tony’s origin story, and in it Tony explicitly says that because of the chestplate, he’s not having sex with anyone:

This is a guy who is not getting laid anytime soon.

Okay, yeah, after the chestplate comes off, presumably he is free to have sex again. But even if he’s out there having sex with a lot of people, that still wouldn’t make him a sex addict. “Nymphomaniac” is a term that has historically been used to do things like shame and pathologize women for having sex; hypersexuality is not actually currently a possible diagnosis in the DSM, as far as I can tell. But if you want to call someone addicted to anything, in the actual sense of the word “addiction,” I think you would probably want to have evidence that the person in question desires this thing so much that their pursuit of this desire is actively causing them distress or is harming other areas of their life. Sure, Tony probably likes having sex; I mean, a lot of people like having sex. He’s probably slept with a lot of people. And maybe especially in Fraction’s run he’s casually sleeping around. But this doesn’t mean he’s a sex addict. He’s not, say, out there continually ruining the rest of his life just because he wants to have a lot of sex.

And the thing is, we don’t have to imagine how Tony would behave if he were addicted to something. We know exactly what addiction looks like for Tony, because Tony is an addict. He’s an alcoholic. And we have absolutely seen that when he is not sober, he is willing to fuck over literally everything else in his life as long as he can keep drinking. He loses everything. His money. His company. All his friends. The Avengers. Being Iron Man. Every place to stay that is not a cardboard box on the street. He ruins his health. He ignores medical advice that he needs to stop drinking, and the only thing that gets him to stop is nearly dying of hypothermia and realizing that he does not, in fact, want to be dead. This is what Tony does when he’s addicted to something, and I don’t see any evidence that he behaves like that with respect to sex.

The one time in canon where I would say that we do see Tony hedonistically pursuing pleasure to the exclusion of all else in a manner that seems to be intended to be excessive is... well... when he’s evil. You remember the evil bisexual orgy in Superior Iron Man?

(No one can forget the evil bisexual orgy.)

This is the only time I can think of that he does anything like this. And this is when he is explicitly shown to be not his usual self and doing a whole lot of things that he doesn’t usually do. And, sure, at least some of the other things he’s shown to be doing -- like drinking -- are things he doesn’t ordinarily do because he doesn’t let himself do them even though he wants to. So maybe deep in his secret heart, if he felt he could just do whatever the hell he wanted, he would have a lot of sex. But I don’t think there’s evidence for him doing this ordinarily.

Again, you absolutely don’t have to agree with me. But I’m just saying I can’t really find much evidence for Tony being a sex addict in canon, especially in early canon.

[yashalex]

Relationship: Eliott Demaury/Lucas Lallemant Chapters: 1/? Summary: Eliott Demaury is a driver, but also he’s a spy... well, sort of. Somehow it’s become his job to look after troubled children of rich businessmen. But Lucas Lallemant is a real problem that Eliott never really saw coming. AO3

Chapter 1 Eliott gets a job as the driver of Lucas Lallemant

Eliott Demaurywasn't the one who believed in such term as an «a stroke of luck». Everything he had ever achieved was the result of his right and not so right choices, which he had no other choice but to make through his whole life. His first correct decision was to help a seventh-year-old girl to walk home after her severe fall from the pink bike with a big purple bow on the handlebar. His next wise move was to keep in touch with her. He was a poor child, and she was rich. The perfect scenario created itself without any efforts of Eliott’s side. A couple of kind words in the accompaniment of one of his charming smiles and the girl saw her knight in shining armour in his face. Eliott’s mistake was to let her feeling of affection towards him grow without any particular necessity. He made his way into her home, he earned the respect of her father, and he even got a job, but still, the guy wasn't ready to give her what she wanted. Eliott Demaurydidn't love Lucille Amateur.

"Philippe and I are very good friends, you know." Valentine Lallemant's piercing blue eyes were looking at the young guy, who was standing right in front of him.  Probably he was trying to see what was so special about him that his dear friend advised the boy's service instead of the specialized agency that at least had a reputation. It was a shame that they failed to help him before, though.

Eliott could see doubts and questions running through the businessman's head. That was obvious from the way he was frowning.

"I suppose that's the reason why I'm here right now," he said with careful politeness. Valentin Lallemantwasn't a joke to anyone. Especially to somebody, who meant as little as Eliott.

"Yeah, that and the fact that you somehow made him respect you and that, believe me, is a very hard thing to achieve," Valentine murmured thoughtfully, not leaving his eyes off Eliott.

Valentine Lallemant and Philippe Amateur were one of the most famous duets in the whole of France. The one was an owner of a hotel empire; another one was an owner of the chain of the auto salons all over Europe. Both built their empires from scratch and became the faces of any motivation-related story about how you can achieve everything if you only try.  What a bullshit! Only a moron would have believed that their businesses were clean and that they were pure and innocent as newborn babies. There was something dark happening behind the closed doors of their offices, but they haven't been caught yet, and perhaps that was the only thing that mattered. Moreover, that aspect of their lives wasn't something Eliott was interested in. The fact that they had a good business and personal relationship was enough for him to close his eyes on everything else, as long as it was playing into his hands.

"I also can't but approve your reasoning behind your leaving the Amateur's house. I know you had a good life there." MrLallemant straightened up in the chair and crossed his arms around the chest. Despite him being in a lower position, as Eliott was still standing, the young man could feel that the man was looking down on him. And he had every right on that, of course.

"I did what was right," Eliott gave a simple answer, but something in Valentine's smirk made him suspect that it wasn't something he was ready to buy so quickly. He was a smart man after all.

"Yeah, for you and your future," Valentine agreed, being perfectly aware that it wasn't the idea Eliott tried to sell to him. Though Eliott didn't argue, he let him continue. "Philippe's sure that you left because of your dignity and respect for him and his family, but we both know that the situation could have gotten only worse if only you decided to take advantage of pure Lucille. You were wise enough to leave and to earn even more of his respect even."

"Am I supposed to answer that?" Eliott asked, and that made Valentine scoff satisfied.

The situation with Lucille got out of the hand pretty quickly. That was an omission on Eliott's part. He used to consider her infatuation with him as something temporary and not so serious. He was sure it was just a phase. The guy expected it to be over at any moment and for her to find some new love interest, but that didn't happen. Her gaze was stopping at him for far too long, her embraces became too tight and intimate, and she stopped following what she was saying in front of him and the company of others, so she practically became a problem. It was never an option for him to reciprocate to her feelings as he had none of them, and pretending wasn't his style. But he wanted to keep his connection with Mr Amateur, so he spent hours to make up the perfect solution, and he did well. His final decision had a success, which led him straight to the office of MrLallemant.

"My son is a problem," suddenly Valentine changed the topic, and Eliott knew that since that moment he needed to absorb every word that would come out of the man's mouth. Lucas Lallemant was his real concern at this job, and he was a problematic kid.

Lucas Lallemant was a star of the all gutter press. A young boy of eighteen years old, who's brought nothing but shame on the name of his powerful father. This little spoiled and arrogant brat was attracting too much unwelcome attention to the family. Constant parties, uncontrollable use of alcohol, dirty fights and big scandals. That was everything that needed any journalist for a couple of juicy and successful stories. Eliott had no particular opinion on the boy as it didn’t matter to him, but he’s heard some stories about him from Lucile that made him despise the junior Lallemant. He had everything Eliott was ready to kill for, and he had no idea how to value that. And that was not surprising and not that big of a secret that Valentine didn’t even try to get along with his son. Probably, he wasn’t worth it. But the man’s reputation was a lot to lose it just because of one silly boy, and that’s how Eliott turned out to be standing in his office.

“I need a driver for him as he can’t drive, and he can’t be trusted to move about the city alone. And the driver needs to be young to become his friend,” Valentine continued, having closed a fat folder in front him and having put it aside. He leaned on his table, giving all his attention to the guy, who was listening to him attentively. “This boy can be a real snake. We changed four drivers in the last half of the year. However, I suppose it was a mistake from my side. I chose people of my age for them to understand me, while I needed someone who would understand him. Or at least would pretend that he understands. And it seems that you’re good at that.”

For everyone, Eliott was Lucille’s driver. For the girl, he was a driver and a friend. For her father, he was a spy. Not officially of course, but that was an unspoken agreement between them right from the start. He gave him a job, but he was paying the guy for the information. It turned out that if you have enough money, and you care about your child (or reputation), you can forget about all the moral code just to protect the things that matter to you. Eliott couldn’t say that he approved that kind of behaviour, but he could easily turn his blind eye on that for a good price. And the price was really good. In no time Mr Amateur knew all about his daughters’ friends, boyfriends, parties and even addictions. Whenever she went, the man knew about it straight away. Eliott was smart and careful, never letting her doubt him. He gained her full trust just to win her father’s trust, and he left just before it all could crash down on him. Now he still had Mr Amateur’s respect, Lucille’s admiration and a good perspective on the new job.

“I need you to be close enough for him to consider you as his friend. He’s difficult, but he’s lonely. He has no real friends, so you can use it,” Valentine said coldly as if he was talking about some stranger from the street and not about his flesh and blood. And Eliott would have been surprised by it if only he hadn't already known that all the fathers sucked. “I need you to be everywhere where he is. I need to know about his whereabouts all the time. You need to know who he’s meeting with, when, where and why. Any sign of the pettiest scandal and I need to know about it. We’ve made an arrangement with him, so he’ll be using your service constantly, but you need to find a way to go further than that. He had to trust you. You’re obviously a bright kid, but still… do you think you could do that?” The man was glaring at him, and Eliott did not doubt that it was the task right for him. But he had questions.

“You sound as if I need to be next to him 24/7. That’s not how I was working with Lucille,” he didn't but pointed out to the fact. MrLallemant nodded and wrote down something on the piece of paper. When he finished, he handed it to the younger guy.

“I know, and that’s why you will be living in our house.”

Eliott took a note from the man and saw not only an address but also a big figure written on it. That was twice bigger than he’s ever gotten working on Phillippe.

“It isn’t going to a problem, right?” Valentine gave the guy time to look at the paper. Oh, he certainly knew what he was doing. Working on the previous conditions, Eliott would have refused to live under the same roof as Lucille, but that was another family, and the price was very tempting, so it would be stupid to say “no”.

“Not a problem at all,” Eliott replied and put the note in his pocket. MrLallemantgrinned, satisfied, but in a second, that smile disappeared from his face as he clearly remembered about something.

“But there is one detail about my son…” he said, and Eliott could see how the man was trying to find the right words to express his thought. Funnily enough, Eliott’s already figured what it probably was about, but it would be wiser of him to keep it shut on the topic. “My son has one peculiarity…” he stopped once again and cleared his throat. Valentine was so obviously ashamed of what he was about to say. “Sometimes he thinks that he likes boys,” he almost hissed, and Eliott hardly held a smirk at the thought that the man couldn’t have made himself to say the word "gay".

“And you don’t want it to be a piece of common knowledge?” Eliott suggested something he’s already known.

“He’s a confused and spoiled boy, so it isn’t worth of hassle,” the man was avoiding Eliott’s eyes, and that was hilarious seeing such reaction from a well-respected businessman. “I don’t need these fool journalists to talk trash about my family again.”

Eliott knew that the man’s already faced the problem like that before. Over a year ago, somebody released a photo of the Lallemant junior kissing another boy right in front of some posh nightclub. And that wasn’t just a perk in the cheek, but a real kiss with tongues and stuff. Lucas was clearly off his face, so as his partner. Another wild night turned Valentine’s life into a nightmare, as the photo took a front page of the most serious and solid newspapers and magazines. And it was all over the Internet, of course. The next morning Lucas gave an interview, where he admitted that he was just too drunk and that was nothing but a silly attempt to laugh at journalists, who follow his every step. He said that he had a girlfriend that he loved very much just to erase any suspicion of his sexual orientation. But the damage was already done, and Eliott’s heard that Valentine lost a couple of conservative clients because of this stunt, so it was no wonder that he was trying to hide the reality so hard. And there was no doubt that the man didn't have to know about Eliott’s bisexuality. He needed this opportunity too much just to lose it because if someone’s ignorance.

Valentine finally managed to get a grip as he straightened up again, looking serious. “At first your main task is to follow him everywhere outside, help him avoid cameras and save him from the troubles on the public. In the school, house and places he’s going to there are always my people, so they will look after him there but…”

“I need to do my best to become close to him and have a chance to know about his every move and his every thought. I get it,” Eliott finished the man’s sentence, and he nodded pleased. “Still, I’m not a bodyguard,” Eliott reminded. He kept in mind that Valentine Lallemant lived in a dangerous world, and maybe Demaury was a good spy, but he never was a fighter.

“Nobody asks you to be him,” Valentine replied, and that was enough for Eliott. “So if you have no questions, you can move in tomorrow. The room will be ready for you. I’ll also bring a contract and discuss with you all the details. Your services will be needed until the end of the school year, after that, I’ll send Lucas to London. You’ll have a chance to walk away whatever you’ll want to. I prefer people working on me by choice and not by pressure. So do we have a deal?” The man stood up and extended his hand toward Eliott.

“Yes, we do,” Eliott answered with a polite smile, and they shook their hands.

If there was something Eliott’s learned during that meeting, that was that sometimes reputation was so much more thicker than blood.

“Are you sure that it’s a really good idea? I’ve heard a lot of stuff about that Valentine, and he’s certainly the man I would have avoided.”

Idriss was standing in the doorway of Eliott’s room. He’s just heard the news, and he wasn’t pleased with them at all. Eliott’s best friend didn’t like a lot of details of that deal. The first one was that he didn’t want him to move out, leaving him alone with their other neighbour, Mika. The second reason for his attitude was that he has absolutely no trust in the Lallemant family. And that was wise. Eliott didn’t trust these people either. But that wasn’t what he was paid for, right? He was joining the family’s house just because of his job. And that was Idriss’ last concern. The man never hid the fact that he considered Eliott’s idea of working instead of studying stupid. And when Eliott’s friend was nagging him about that, Demaury was ready to kill him in cold blood.

“I’m going to spend most of the time with his son and not him.”

Eliott looked around to check if he’s put in his bag everything that he needed. He didn’t have in plans to move out completely, he’s already paid rent for a year ahead, and he liked to have a place he always could return to. So he decided to take only the things that were really necessary for him in Lallemant’s house. A couple of boxers, trousers, T-shirts, shirts and all the little stuff. Eliott knew for sure that he would come back in the flat in a week just to see his mates, and then he would grab all the other stuff he wanted to.

“As if his son is anywhere better,” Idriss sighed and sat on the sofa. Eliott joined him. “He seems like the right trouble. Yeah, Lucille wasn’t the angel, but this one is another level. Have you heard that he trashed the car, told the press that his driver took drugs from Valentine and then did it himself? It's not normal behaviour!”

Eliott let out a laugh, having remembered another scandal out of the life of Lallemants. Yeah, that was a big one too. It was the first driver Valentine hired and, judging by the way the things ended, he didn’t get on with Lallemant junior at all. In a week he was sacked and accused of using drugs. Yeah, in one evening Lucas told about it every journalist he could only get hold of, proving it with photos of the car the man allegedly crashed. And maybe it wouldn’t have been so bad if he didn’t call his own father a dealer. But still, it wasn’t even the weirdest thing. To Eliott’s amusement, the boy was sober when he was doing it. How did he know that? He was there together with Lucille when all the mess’ started. Lucas didn’t just gather the journalists, but also all his rich friends for them to spread the rumours. Yeah, that was quite a show. But Eliott preferred to keep silent about his not so significant involvement in the act. All the more, Lucas apologised in a few days, having blamed it all on a stupid bet with his friend. And knowing the nature of the boy, everyone believed it. But not Eliott. He saw the look on the boy’s face that evening and there was something intriguing there. Maybe now he would have a chance to find some answers. And as they say, there is no smoke without fire.

“Valentine could have just hired the guy a babysitter. Why exactly does he need a driver?” Idriss questioned.

“He can’t drive, apparently,” Eliott shrugged. “But, yeah, I guess he’s just impressed with the things Mr Amateur told him about me. And I’m no way complaining. I can be even Valentines’ babysitter if he keeps giving me the money he promises to.”

Idriss gave him a disappointed look but didn’t say anything. His friend had both things Eliott was always deprived of. He had a loving family and money. No, he wasn’t as rich as Lallemants, but he always had enough to go by. So there was no way for him to understand Eliott and his motivation. AndDemaury didn’t ask him to actually.

Eliott’s phone vibrated, and he saw one new message.

[Lucille]:

is it truth? you replaced me with lucas lallemant? wtf???

“You didn’t tell her?” Idriss asked surprised, having looked at the screen over Eliott’s shoulder.

“We decided that it’d be better like that,” he replied and put away his phone. Well, it wasn’t actually his decision not even say goodbye but her father’s. Despite Lucille’s stupid crush oh him that messed things up, he liked that girl. They knew each other long enough for Eliott to bond with her in some way. He didn’t feel anything deep and physical towards Lucille, but he was sincerely upset when he figured what her feelings were. After all, the guy didn’t have that many friends to lose another one.

“You know, you just could fuck her from times to times and be happy,” Idriss said, and Eliott knew that he meant it as a joke.

“Or he could fuck Lucas Lallemant and be even happier,” Mika came waltzing in the room.

“Or be killed!” Idriss answered back, and Mika waved his hand on him, settling in the chair opposite them.

“This guy is super cute and rich, so I would jump this ship too, for sure!” He winked at Eliott.

“Was it even officially confirmed that he’s gay? I saw his photos with some girl the other day,” Idriss commented.

“It’s just him trying to conceal the obvious. Everyone knows with whom he’s spending his nights with, photos or no photos,” Mika stated. “But still I want to know all the gossips. I bet their family has a lot of dark and juicy secrets,” the guy smiled slyly, looking at Eliott.

“My job is to keep him from such people as you, so forget about it,” Eliott smirked, and Mika scoffed displeased.

“You are still so boring!” He complained.

“But it’s just until the end of the year, right?” Idriss asked. It was obvious that the idea still worried him.

“If everything goes right then yeah. After that, Valentine’s sending him to London,” Eliott put a cigarette between his lips and lit it. Idriss looked at him disappointed. He hated when the friend was smoking right in the flat. But they were sitting in his room, so he had no right to say something against it. Smoking was a bad habit, Eliott didn’t deny the fact, but he was a child when he tried it the first time and now it’s become a part of him. Cigarettes let him relax a little, and that was something he needed in his life a lot.

“You knew that he had to finish school last year, but suddenly disappeared, so he’s attending it now?” Mika was looking at his phone. He’s already googled the boy’s name to gain more information. Eliott though to do the same, but he never got around it. “Interesting, why did he have to miss the whole year?”

“I won’t be surprised if Valentine sent him to some religious camp for them to kill gay inside him,” Eliott shared, having remembered the shame in the man’s eyes when he was talking about his son’s preferences.

“It must be tough to have a father like that,” Mika said compassionately.

“And what’s the deal with his mum? Don’t think I’ve seen her face in the news recently,” Idriss noted, and Mika looked at his phone again, tapping something. In a few minutes, he gave the answer.

“Well, there was no official statement, but there are gossips that she went mad, and she’s at the clinic now. But Valentine isn’t commenting on the situation and neither so his son.”

“If it’s true, I feel bad for the boy,” Idriss said, and Milan nodded. Eliott’s took another drag.

“He’s just another rich snob, who cares about nothing but himself. I’ve met him a couple of times before, so believe me, he’s not worth feeling sorry for him,” he declared and stood up.

“You’re full of prejudices, you need to meet the boy first just to make such strong assumptions!” Mika confronted him, but Eliott just rolled his eyes at the neighbour and came to his table. There were two things he hadn’t packed yet. Two photos. One of his mother and another of his grandparents. He hated both of them, but these probably were the only things in his life he couldn’t leave behind.

Living with Idriss and Mika for three years Eliott got used to meeting Mika’s hook-ups in the morning in the kitchen not to ever see their faces ever again. Or in the late evenings when he didn’t even know that they had visitors. And Mika loved organizing surprise parties. Or that could be Idriss’ sister Imane with her boyfriends and Idriss and Eliott’s friend Sofiane. Their flat’s became their second home. They probably were spending more time here than in their own apartment. So at any time, someone could have come, and they wouldn't have even been surprised.

“Not me,” Idriss answered.

“Me neither, but I’ll go and look.” Milan stood and went to the door.

“I hope it’s not another boyfriend he’s forgotten about,” Idriss joked, and Eliott laughed back.

In a few seconds, Mika came back with a sly smile, looking at Eliott.

“Honey, you have a guest,” he said cunningly. By the look on his face Eliott’sknown that it was something the guy was really excited about. And he seriously couldn’t even suggest who it could have been. His first thought was Lucille. Sometimes she knew no boundaries, and when he ignored her like he did today, she could just turn up at their doorways. But it wouldn’t have explained Mika’s enthusiasm. He hated the girl.

“Do you know who is there?” Idriss asked with interest.

“Do I look like I know?” Eliott replied a little bit irritated.

He went to the door, feeling Mika’s eyes on his back. He’s heard how the guy hissed something to Idriss, but he didn’t hear what exactly he said. Or he preferred to ignore that. Most of the things Mika was saying usually didn't worth the time of listening to him.

“Finally!”

Eliott’s heard a mumble of the person, standing at the door. The second he saw who exactly it was, he froze.

“So I’ve heard I’m your new boss,” said the boy in the black shirt with long sleeves and black jeans. He was leaning against the doorframe, and there was a bottle of champagne in his right hand. And though there were sunglasses on his eyes, there was no problem for Eliott to identify the guest.

Lucas Lallemant was standing right in front of him.

[left-on-the-right]

Thoughts on My Vulnerability and Fragility

Intro: Into My Story

“But, I let the words come together

Then, maybe I’ll feel better”

-Khalid, Another Sad Love Song

This is a collection of the emotions of a young, lovestruck boy without the ability to properly cope (that’s me).

These feelings are something that I have struggled for over two years. This has been a draft for the last 8 months but I’m not a writer so chill on my slow shitty writing bruh. I thought this would be the best way to express these emotions as I honestly don’t know anyone on here IRL. This isn’t meant to shame anyone, to heal the hurt I’ve caused or the hurt I feel. I just think that maybe I’ll be able to sleep.

The first quote is from a song. The song is of little importance, but listening to those words inspired me to write my feelings down.

Heading ever section from here on will be words I have heard from others dealing with their grief. In honour of those that will never read this, I will be marking those quotes from the deceased accordingly with a dagger.

Sadness: Into Depression

“It’s so much colder after someone warms you, then leaves you in the wind.”

-Shaunessey E.

Compared to other handguns, there is a lot of slack on a Glock trigger. About 5mm of space where you can safely pull the trigger before you hit a “wall”. Any squeezing past this point will set the gun off. When you get to that point where a bit of finger squeezing can end your life, it forces you to reassess your circumstances.

And that’s the story about how I have a 9x19mm sized hole in my wall.

Alone: Into Loss

“I wish I had never left… the womb,

Just never born”

-Alex Z. †

Being alone is so different from being lonely.

I had always been alone.

Tethered to someone, thousands of miles away, was a unique experience.

Alone but together.

Intimate but distant.

These were moments that I cherished, but have now come to scorn.

I had all my emotional eggs into one basket, that to have someone walk off with my basket has left me lost. It hurt to be on call and to hear that I was replaced. To hear of all the people she slept with. To be told that there had been secrets while we were together. I think the worst was to be told she hoped we could talk again. I just couldn’t.

I tried to see a councilor but that didn’t bring me any help.

15 visits.

Not a thing.

Every visit was like grinding teeth. “How’s work?”

No salvation to be found

Coping: Into Not Being Good @ Coping

“Goodbye. I don’t want to see you again”

-Haley S.

If my life was a beach, Haley would be a grain of sand. An insignificant blip in my life. As terrible as that sounds, that’s exactly how terrible I treated her. I don’t know why I did it. It didn’t even give me a sense of happiness. I just hurt her.

I’ve been struggling with addiction. Not with what most people would assume. It was gambling. Surprise! I’ve had my hands on the wheel for some time now, but it will always be something I will need to contend with.

I started drinking as well. Something that I’ve never done before. Oh, how I’ve let myself butcher my morals over someone who doesn’t even care about me.

I wish I was stronger.

I wish I knew how to help myself.

I hurt myself and others to… I don’t know.

I knew better than to gamble.

I knew better than to drink.

I shouldn’t have hurt Haley.

After all of this, I had to close myself off.

Unfortunately, I met someone.

I met a lovely Californian who was willing to deal with the mess I was.

I was happy.

She was distant and guarded but I didn’t care.

It was odd to be told later that I was just a friend.

It was so cold and clinical.

Like it could be said and I should just accept it.

I didn’t know what to do. When I said I was leaving, she sent a sad face.

Why?

I don’t feel sad about that breakup. Just confused.

Closure: Into Ends

“Don’t take it personally. You have to move on”

Oliver S. †

These are my emotions laid bare.

Thank you for reading.

I hope for the strength to love myself, as I am told I am lovable.

If I am not, I hope for the strength to give up.

With no more to say, I must bow and exit stage.

(This post is a mess, I know.)

[andrewuttaro]

Christian Terrorism

Here in the United States our perception of terrorism has changed multiple times in my lifetime. Before 9/11, I’m told, it was an unreliable strategy for dissidents and extremists to extract a ransom. After 9/11 Terrorism has taken on a life of its own, elevated as a form of war and nation building. It is now used by anyone with a message, individuals even, to violently draw attention to their twisted thoughts on the state of things. Terrorism now, unlike 30 years ago, is not just a political tactic, it is an expression of evil messages unto itself.

No serious or good person needs to say something as obvious as “terrorism is bad”. Any ideology that uses violence or forces others to violence is flawed by nature. What we argue about now is what words to put before this word. It’s as if that word you put before it is delegitimized by simply being there. Muslims the world over did not want to be associated with terrorism and objected to their faith being characterized this way. We avoid putting religion before the word because we think we’re mature enough to know that the usage of terrorism perverts the truth of any religion that deserves its time in a modern world. Then we’re surprised when someone who looks very familiar to us, professing our own faith, utilizes the awful perversion that is terrorism.

Eight people were killed in a series of shooting in the Atlanta area last month. Seven were women and six were of Asian descent. Whatever the police investigation reveals aside, it’s been very unnerving to pick apart how we’ve talked about this latest visitation of American gun violence. Since I started writing this article there have been more mass shootings so I can’t even call it the latest; but I digress. We’ve reached a cultural impasse on guns so that discussion is over before it begins. The way we’ve talked about the why of this event has moved on to a deeper “why”. Was it a crime motivated by sexism? The hyper sexualization of Asian women? Was it motivated by racism? The killer’s perceived racial superiority? Or was it, as the local police said, a kid with a gun who “had a bad day”? I’m not going to give that kind of privileged response any oxygen and just tell you: It was terrorism. It was domestic terrorism and a particular kind of terrorism we have to really start talking about more seriously.

Let me be clear: this is all of the above. It was an anti-Asian crime in a particularly hard time for Americans of Asian and Pacific Islander descent. COVID-19 has put a bigoted target on their backs. The terrorist was racist. The sexism of the setting, massage parlors run by Asian women, informs us this was a targeted strike against women. The terrorist was a sexist who believed they were the source of his sin. That leads us to the identity of the terrorist and the way the police handled him with a painfully familiar reverence. It points to a malignant cancer that is growing in this country under our noses. We ignore it because its somewhat hard for the majority of Americans to talk about: Christian Terrorism.

This terrorist was an avid Churchgoer. He was the devout son of a lay leader in a Southern Baptist Church. His family was described as “…a good Christian family.” He attended Youth Group events regularly. He went on mission trips around the country and to Costa Rica. He carried a bible around in High School and described himself in an eerily familiar way on Instagram with the hobbies: “Pizza, guns, drums, music, family, and God.” He went to college for a year before dropping out for fear of developing a sex addiction. His congregation had strictly cautioned against sexual indiscretion on that familiar conservative morality that permeates so much of American Christianity.

He struggled with the morality of the faith he knew and proceeded to have a turbulent few year of adulthood. He frequented those massage parlors, decried pornography, and suffered through it killing a relationship he had run away from his parents to maintain. He expressed to a friend the sense he was “walking in darkness” and “living in sin”, before refusing any help that was not explicitly connected to his religious beliefs. Eventually he got “Christian treatment” for his sex addiction and it failed him. He used his fondness for guns to commit an act of terror against those he perceived had facilitated his sin. We could talk about how guns go hand and hand with a certain strain of Christianity in this country but let’s talk about that strain first. His Church is in the process of removing him from their congregation and has condemned his crime. So why am I saying this is Christian terrorism?

The systems of institutional Christianity in his life gave him deep shame and ineffective cures. He got to a point where atoning for his sins meant killing. He felt this was an expression of his faith in a twisted way. Surely he knew the commandment to not kill but did his Christianity save him from otherizing an outgroup he could blame for his sin? No. Certainly he knew Jesus’ call to love your neighbor as yourself, but did that stop him from taking the lives of his neighbors? No. Certainly he knew only he was responsible for his sins and there is nothing than cannot be forgiven by Jesus Christ, but did that stop him from exacting terror and murder upon those he saw as mere objects of sin? No. I’ll ask you the question every supposedly God-fearing American was asking ten years ago about terrorism coming from Muslim communities: Where were the moderate, sane leaders of that religious community to stop this terror in their name?

Now ask yourself the deeper question: Does Christianity and Christian communities as they exist in America today really preach against racism, sexism and the kind of bigoted otherizing that might lead a troubled young man to commit a mass murder? I sure know we have built the moral consent structures to defending gun ownership. Why is this different than what we saw those of a different faith committing? We all have been fools here in America believing that our faith was built different. We didn’t think twice about giving easily accessible weapons a sanctified hue because… why?

And don’t think I, a Catholic, am talking down to Evangelicals and other low-liturgy Protestants; no, I am dreading the day soon coming when the killer has a rosary hanging out of his pocket and a devotion to Mary that he believes called him to commit terror. If nothing changes with how us American Christians talk about terrorism and otherizing groups who are different than us more of this is inevitable. It’s Christian terrorism and we need to call it what it is and talk about for what it is. Simple condemnations of murder and vague sermonizing connections to an imaginary form of violent atheism don’t work anymore. The next mass murder is sitting in the pews on Sunday and if the Gospel of Jesus Christ we preach isn’t stopping this madness than its not the Gospel of Jesus Christ.

[shawnjacksonsbs]

The "not-so" secret formula to my contentment.    9-8-19

"Nobody else can live the life you live. And even though no human being is perfect, we always have the chance to bring what's unique about us to live in a redeeming way." - Mr. Fred Rogers And that's all I am trying to do with my writings, my shares, my whole life really. My story may not be some great made for t.v. triumph, but in its uniqueness, it's important (and not just to me) that I share it, as I live it and grow in it. I look at as much of the negatives as I can, like more of an opportunity. Not always in the immediate heat of the moment sometimes, but I try. That's one of my life lessons I imagine will stay current with me each day as we move into our respective futures. Living resentlessly is pretty big. They say that resentments are the number one cause of relapse for people like me, as in, those recovered from or recovering from some type of addiction. I'm pretty sure I've dealt with most of all those toxicities that kept me so sick, albeit some not the way I wanted (whole other story lol). I try to live in such a way these days that I don't harbor any new resentments. Should something arise I can usually handle it pretty quickly. Because. . .as it. . . "TURNS OUT, RESENTMENT IS CORROSIVE AND I HATE IT." - Tony Stark Living in gratitude, being loving and as kind as humanly possible are pretty far up there in that formula as well. I'm secure in the fact that living with as much gratitude as I can works hand in hand with not keeping with the resentments on that end too. Trying to make good, right, and sound decisions doesn't hurt either. Nor does the whole truth-telling bit I have added to my life. Having to remember stupid ass lies all the time used to be exhausting, to say the least. Lol I sleep well every night knowing I am living the best way I know how, for me, and for those in my life, here, or at a distance. I ask myself "Did you do the best you could today?" If I answer yes, then I sleep good, and tomorrow is a new day. If I answer no, then I tell myself that I'll do better tomorrow. Apologize where I need to, then sleep good and tomorrow is a new day. Love me or hate me, that's on you. At least I know I keep it real and I'm sincere. We may not see eye to eye, but I always tell the truth as I see it, how it comes at me, and how it feels to my heart. A lot of people relate to me and plenty of them support me and my life decisions. My life is just that, my life. Your options are either take it or leave it. I'm not above reproach or even above criticism, but that's mainly for differences of opinions. Feel free to speak your mind at me and change my heart if you can. Moral issues and matters of the heart, I'm probably less likely to swerve on those, because they are personal to who I am, and who I've become. A very long hard road has brought me here and your approval, on those things are not needed. I no longer need acceptance from others to dictate who I am, at all, ever. I've never felt so sure about who I am, where I'm going or why, in all my life. A good, just, and positive life is for me. I can't imagine ever going back, or living as less, or even changing my perspectives, on much really, but I will always try to listen, or try if I can, to hear someone out, albeit it may be hard as I try to live as right as I can most of the time. Love and kindness always being on the forefront doesn't leave much room for anything you might say that might take away from that love and kindness, at least in that regard. The only other thing might be how I call people out on what I feel isn't right. If that's the case, you may be right, but I'm probably never not going to stand up to people who treat others in a bad way, and I will never stop standing up for what I believe is right, especially when it involves others being mistreated, whether grouped or individual. Granted I'm working on me, and better, more delicate ways to try and approach some of those issues because I am far, far from perfect. But I also feel a moral imperative responsibility to try something, because of how far I've come. Look it's real easy, if you want to be a part of my life then be prepared to be called out on shit like that. If you care about me we can talk about it. If there is no love from your side or mine, then the door swings out too. Peace out. The things in my heart, are much more important to me, and for the little people in my life to see from me, than what you may or may not not be agreeing with. I'm not saying that your way or ways are necessarily wrong, but if they aren't what I'm trying to live by and be an example of, then I'm probably not having it in my life. Especially if I deem them to be negative, in any way. You can do what you want, as can I and I will continue to live the absolute best way I know how. I finally got my moral compass to point true north. You may feel yours does too, but if I see yours slightly askew then all that means is, you and me, we ain't the same. That doesn't mean we can't have love for one another unless you see it differently. To me, it just means maybe we have some talks in our future and that sometimes it takes more than just blood to relate to someone. I'm super blessed to have so many who do see and feel things like I do, both blood relation and those who are not. I suppose most of this would be nil, if not so many people did relate and support me. If it was just love and/or respect, but it's not. I know in my heart where I stand. I mean keeping my moral compass pointing in this direction has served me pretty well the last several years. It attracts the right people into my life as I slowly eliminate any toxic people not ok with how I live my life, or how I see life. I'm pretty sure, people who know me, know I that don't want bad shit for anyone, but if negative people fall off my ship instead of learning the life lessons that exhume gratitude for everything, even the most difficult, then that not my fault. Finding the silver in everything now is never ever going to be something I feel shame over. I'm sorry if you feel attacked. I assure you that's not my intent. Sharing my story, which constantly is changing, isn't meant to be preachy or soap boxy. It's meant to be relatable or at least understandable. 'Nough said I think. I didn't mean to hijack the entry in this direction, but it is a blog about how I feel about things so. . .lol . . . So there's that. Saw this post the other day; ~{I was asked, "You're willing to lose friends over politics?!!" I said, "No. I'm willing to lose friends over morals. HUGE difference."}~ I felt that in my heart. Even though I didn't share that post, it is important to my internal peace so I thought I'd write about it because I assure you that its only a coincidence, the fact that sometimes its related to politics. The banter, debates, and popular post discussions are a huge fuel source for my writing. I keep them close. Those talks are part of what frame us. What frames my perspectives anyways. Like it makes the edges more defined. I do share in some talks outside of social media that do the same thing, but either way, it's what is needed to help keep my mind fresh, my writings intact, plus my emotional and mental health stable as well. "Wouldn't I be OUTSTANDING in that capacity.", although John Bender said that under a slightly different context, I think its fits for me here. I use what you guys fuel to give back to you as I see it and repeat the cycle, as it were. Thank you for that. Now to shuffle and deal myself a fair, and sane hand I'm going to have to plan a vacation to see my Washington people, hopefully, sooner rather than later. I miss them fools more than anyone knows. They hold a huge piece of my heart in theirs, from my Fence Specialists family to my extended "other" family, (my everything else out there family.) The ones I spent holidays with and shared in joys and some sorrows with. The universe alone knows how much I love and miss the lot of them. I think quite a bit about being back there with them, although I could never, ever give up what I have here, back home with my family. In a perfect world we could all live somewhere close to one another, those from Washington and my family here, but . . .What I've gained by being back, along with finally holding a place in my family is pretty close to untoppable. Therefore, because I will never not be able to have them in my life a visit is the balance I'm going to need, as I did in reverse for the last several years. Anyways, with a tear in my eye and the small pain tearing at my heart, I will move from this topic, for now. Visit soon, seriously, period, exclamation point, stop. Period. End of discussion. I imagine a big part of why I'm missing them harder recently is probably because of the holidays, birthdays, my 6-year dope free anniversary are all coming up quick, and for the first several years they were the ones celebrating them with me. Don't get me wrong, making these new memories is worth more than its weight in gold, but a lot of silvers were shared with them. Remember to share the love and the laughter with the world around you. And please, please always be kind where you can, to who you can, especially if you know they're struggling with anything. Our world could be so much more than it gets credit for, as too the people living on it. Compassion doesn't make you weak, it makes you brave as it takes courage to stand up to those who don't agree with it. Until next week; "There are three ways to ultimate success: The first way is to be kind. The second way is to be kind. The third way is to be kind." - Mr. Fred Rogers

[davidvsgoliath-blog1]

Nathan’s Voice

I want to preface everything I say in this blog are entirely true events as I remember them. Whether you believe me or not is entirely up to you. I think the people from his past that knew him best will back up my story. Nathan was and is loved by many. His early and untimely death had meaning all along. The problem is selfish greed gets in the way, essentially interrupting God’s real message for bringing him home so soon. 

Nathan was born April 2nd, 1979. He was born and raised in Aberdeen, SD. Nathan excelled at playing the guitar and singing. I remember being at church service where he would take over the entire service with his talent and grace. This kid had talent and a light that was unexplained. He had a glow that would brighten any room. I used to be so envious of Nathan. I thought of him as such a high standard to live up to within my adoptive family. Nothing was ever personal against him, but if you have followed me at all you know why this might cause jealousy for me. I also was jealous of how good he got along with my dad. My dad talked so highly of him. He told a story about when a car cut him off and he had Nathan as a little boy in the backseat. He said that he chased the man down and beat him down. This jealousy never stopped me from idolizing, looking up to, and wanting Nathan as my brother, however. In fact I needed Nathan. He was the ultimate buzz kill to a self righteous family. He didn’t give a shit about what the family thought of him. He seemed happy flipping the bird to hypocrites. What a beautiful rebel! He would come to grandma and grandpas with a Dead shirt on and long hair. He would bring friends over to hang out that my family would deem not up to their standards. How sick? Right? Self righteous ignorance to the fullest, with the only love being money and a new car or house. I loved getting picture cards every year all year of my family and their vacations. I was like my dad struggles to pay bills and you freaks rub our nose in it with your new vacations. Real Christian of you! 

I’ll never forget September 13, 1997 for as long as I breathe. It was the worst day of my life. My dad came into my room and said “Chris! Nathan is dead! Hes fucking dead and it’s my fault!” My dad went into the bathroom and i heard the shower come on. It was early in the morning, but I was in shock. I was 10 years old, and death wasn’t much of reality yet. I could hear my dad screaming and pleading why!? He would punch the wall and scream. It still didn’t sink in that he was truly gone. I thought well if anyone can beat death it’s Nathan. God would never take such a beautiful soul so early. He had just turned 18, and was only a few months removed from graduation. We immediately drove from Watertown Sd to Aberdeen sd that morning. My dad was familiar with the crash site because he grew up in Aberdeen and is familiar with the surroundings. That’s when we saw the skid marks. We saw the bridge had been damaged, and we put together theories of how the crash happened. The declaration among my righteous family is, he simply fell asleep. It was so early in the morning he must’ve been beyond tired. Right? Great story, but I have a different take on the actual events and what might have happened. I’m basing my findings on my own research, quotes from my mom and dad, and my PHD in addiction.

This is where it all started for me. My road to bring Nathan’s voice to life started the very night we went to see his body. I had never been to one of these places. To be honest the smell of the room made me feel uneasy. I saw people crying and weeping. I saw people holding each other and trying to comfort one another. I wasn’t interested in comfort. I could see the casket from a distance and knew it was becoming more real by the second. Out of nowhere my aunt Lee Anne came to take me to “see” Nathan dead up close and personal. I remember in the background there was a stereo playing Casey Jones by Grateful Dead. If you know the lyrics you would be like me, “why is this playing here of places?” So I get up to the casket trembling. I see Nathan lying there asleep. A deep sleep that looked very peaceful in that moment. He was dressed nicely with corduroy pants. a shirt unbuttoned so you could see his hemp necklaces. As I write this right now Touch of Grey has hit my headphones. If you knew Nathan you would understand how non coincidental that is. Anyway, back to Nathan’s casket. I was examining Nathan piece by piece , and trying to construct in my mind how I would sneak him to safety. However, my aunt Lee Anne had a great idea that should never be taught to a child. She says “ go ahead you can touch him”. I thought well to be honest I would like to shake him back to life or give him CPR. So I settled for just touching his forearm. I instantly felt the cold. I felt the corpse that once was Nathan. Nathan was not in this vessel, and it hit me like a freight train. I nearly dropped to my knees from what seemed like an electric shock. I instantly burst in to waterfalls of tears and ran into the other room where I felt I could hide and dry this rush of water from my eyes. I never believed he would die. He was too perfect. My life from that moment on was changed. Life on earth became reality, and reality became hell on earth.

The reason I’m telling this story isn’t to shame anyone. It isn’t to make anyone to blame for what happened to Nathan, but he(knowing his heart would want this told if it meant saving others would want this story across the world). Nathan, ironically had a beautiful singing voice. If he had lived on this earth longer you would be blessed by his voice. He played guitar and sang in a band called I believe Muddles Puddles. Sorry Nathan if I’m wrong. I would ask the family, but they hate me for speaking the truth. See at the beginning I mentioned how Nathan fell asleep and crashed his car and died. Well, that could be entirely true, however, there’s more to that thesis. Here’s what my family leaves out. His dad thought covering the fact he was addicted to heroin and possibly other drugs was ideal. You see what I’m getting at is this. In my family, and hundreds to thousands of families across the earth have a motto for addiction. Its deemed immoral and something that if known inside their “perfect” family they will disassociate themselves from your life as if you’re a virus. I know this first hand. I’m writing this because Nathan wasn’t perfect. Nathan felt unnecessary pressure, and most likely very similar mental disabilities I went and struggle through. He had to hide his problem, because to make it known would bring shame and disappointment to this “self righteous” family. This is a battle cry for all silenced sufferers. Silenced by the self righteous, ignorant, and hypocrites. See in my family my other aunt had sex with one of my best friends. She did it numerous times on numerous occasions. That’s a cool secret I no longer want to harbor. Sorry, but shaming me and isolating me wasn’t very nice family of mine. What you did to my dad and sister is disgusting. Nathan having to hide his true feelings is what lead him to self medicate and eventually die. Just my opinion though. No one knows the true story. I have audio of my mom telling me that the idea was to protect NATHAN’s legacy and so my grandparents wouldn’t know he was such a “loser”. Well, in doing so not only has his legacy been wrongfully portrayed, but you can’t find a damn thing on Google about him. Google Nathan Engelhart. I know he died in 1997, but he has VHS tapes of his concerts(I know I’ve watched them). I’m confused how my rich family cant figure out how to convert VHS to a file to post all over the internet. I used to brag to my friends about how his voice was like Kurt Cobain’s. What a shame those tapes are collecting dust or in some box somewhere. Sorry I didn’t commit suicide or die like you all wanted. Sorry I’ve defeated the obsession to kill myself over the opinions of selfish aholes.

 Nathan gave me something special that day I touched his refrigerated body. He gave me a sign it felt like. I even carried his obituary and senior picture in my wallet until they literally disintegrated many years later. My dad blamed himself for what happened to Nathan. I blamed God and asked why Nathan would be so tired. Well, since I was saved by God I can tell you I no longer believe in coincidence or bullshit stories. I only believe in truth and morality. The real problem is my family nearly pushed me to commit suicide because of my alcoholism. I was already adopted and had no other family and these pricks thought rubbing my nose in their greed was funny. Rubbing my dad’s nose in their greed to the point they turned him evil. I don’t even recognize him anymore. I will forgive him though. I love him, and although he failed me he doesn’t know what he was doing to me. You will all no longer hide. I will take an ad out in Aberdeen News for this for Nathan. I like how I now just find out my dad was repeatedly molested at 8 years old by a man. Where was his brothers and sisters? Mom? DAD? No wonder he suffered and felt like committing suicide when I was 16 might be a good idea. He left a note that my sister found. I’m still mad at my dad for being so vile to me, but I have a whole new outlook with the fact he was also silenced. I also just learned since we are on the topic of silence my mom was raped repeatedly by her sister Cassie’s boyfriend at the time when she was 14. My aunt beat my mom up daily until my mom attempted suicide, then she had compassion to stop. LOL This is another one of my self righteous aunts who’s obviously a hypocrite. If you hate me then it’s because you have things to hide or are immoral. If you hate what I say it’s because you are of this world and love only money and material. I on the other hand love the afflicted and bullied spirits. The persecuted and silenced, I’m the bullies bully. I have not one evil bone in my body. Discernment isn’t an issue for me anymore. Even killing spiders has even become a challenge for me. I used to make sure their kids kids felt my smashing. 

This is a story about what happens when people are silenced. My girlfriends mom lost her life to it. Even Bailey herself wanted to die daily. My mom has been a wrecking ball of pain and suicide. My dad made the plans and wrote the note. I myself tried repeatedly to do so through overdose or the threat of a shotgun blast. My main plan was just jumping in front of a semi so I wouldn't feel a thing. I was tired of pain, the last thing I wanted was a painful suicide. I want people to know that they aren’t alone. This cycle can end. They should feel the freedom that comes with unconditional love, complete forgiveness, and understanding. Just basic human compassion mixed with empathy. Treat others how you would want to be treated. Why does society accept silence and corruption? I have the answer and it’s blatant. It’s satan. This world is fallen, and without knowing Jesus personally I feel bad for you. I’m a soul on fire and a voice for the silenced. Especially the deceased who deserve just as much of a voice as any living being. Nathan would want people to be saved by his story. Nathan may not have even been classified an addict, but based on the fact my uncle went to Nathan’s (then wrecked) vehicle to grab a special coveted cd player, or to grab the large quantity of drugs hidden behind it. One might question? Who’s legacy is really being protected? Nathan’s(Considering he exists nowhere until now) Or the people who dropped the ball? You be the judge, but based on my own experience with this family dynamic I have no need to debate. Nathan I love you, and I hope I can get your footage of your concerts and pictures to show your talents to the world. You will never be dead to me! You are still an inspiration in my life, and I thank you dearly! I miss you!

[marysunshine23]

Problematic?

So, I’ve noticed a... popular trend in some of the stuff that I like and follow on Tumblr. Certain series or concepts are being deemed “problematic”. For the fun of it, let’s see what the dictionary definition is for “problematic”:

a: posing a problem : difficult to solve or decide

b: not definite or settled : UNCERTAIN: their future remains problematic

c: open to question or debate : QUESTIONABLE

This is.... not how people are using it. People are using problematic for... oh what’s that word... I’ll leave that for later. Anyway, the people who are defining certain series or concepts are not using it as problematic by it’s dictionary definition. And here’s why I think it’s silly.

Before I begin listing off some examples of series or concepts that I’ve seen be called problematic, I’m going to say something as a general. If a show is not problematic, it’s either uneventful or just... boring. Even these “slice of life” “reality” shows amp up the problems in a story so there is something worth watching. In fiction, the entire point of the problem is for it to be solved near the end. And what’s the first definition? Oh, that’s right, “posing a problem that is difficult to solve or decide upon”.

And what keeps the tension in a story but definition number two, “note definite or settled”. If it were easy to solve the problem, then it would be, again, boring. So saying that anything with a plot is “problematic” is a big “no shit, Sherlock” because that’s the point. The point is for it to be problematic. Tons of shows that are episodic have problematic situations for every episode. Hell, even Spongebob can be defined as problematic.

However, I know I’m gonna have a million people be like “that’s not what we mean!” And I know that’s not what you mean, that’s why I’m pointing out that your choice of words is silly. Saying anything with a plot, episodic or long running is by definition problematic. So why am I bringing this up? Well, I think what people are mostly associating the word “problematic” to is the third definition, “Open to Question or Debate: Questionable”. And not just questionable as in “let’s discuss this”, it’s “this is morally questionable”; or like I like to say, morally ambiguous. Now that I have that established, let’s list some examples! And by some, I mean two.

Hazbin Hotel

Now, I’m going to say right off the bat, no shit is this morally ambiguous. It’s supposed to be. You have the main protagonist being the princess of Hell, then her girlfriend, her friendly acquaintance who is also a lot of morally not so ambiguous things, an infamous radio show host and two of his lackeys. A lot of people have a lot of complaints about this, and I want to address them quickly.

Angel Dust’s Appearance: A lot of people are upset with how Angel Dust looks; wide chested, wearing a mini-skirt and thigh-high boots, and a somewhat defined waist. People are assuming that his appearance is transphobic. And I have to ask... have you guys never seen an androgynous person before? Like... ever? And there are a million discussions about “fuck gender norms”. Yet when an androgynous looking male is wearing a miniskirt under his too tight jacket. Or maybe it’s the whole using the jacket to shove his chest together to make cleavage, but what five year old hasn’t done that after seeing a “voluptuous” person?

Angel Dust’s Career: He’s a prostitute. He’s a prostitute who is also a porn star. He’s a prostituting porn star who regularly gets into turf wars. He’s a prostituting porn star who regularly gets into turf wars and enjoys recreational drugs. Does that make him a sex addict? No. Does that make him a drug addict? No. Does that make him addicted to violence? No. Does that make him the poster child of that life style? Yes.

Vaggie’s “Stereo Type” Personality: Okay, so I didn’t even know this was a thing until I saw posts about it. Like, for real. I thought Hispanic women were all super nice and motherly and “you’re too skinny!” But then again, I’m pretty sure that’s every non-Caucasian mother stereotype. However, I never found Vaggie’s personality to be “overly angry” or “overly protective”. She gets mad that people are underrating Charlie and her dream, but not so much that she will immediately kill anyone who rolls their eye at Charlie. And if she was overly protective, she wouldn’t even let Charlie take this risk of creating a hotel and broadcasting about it.

Over Swearing: They’re in Hell. This show is for adults. An episode of South Park swears more than this. Grow the fuck up.

There’s Homophobia/Transphobia!: Yes. From the antagonists. Who you’re supposed to dislike. So they’re doing their job. Like I said, grow the fuck up.

There’s no LGBTQ+ Representation: Vaggie and Angel Dust are gay, Charlie is bi, Alastor is Ace.

But Vivzi-: Nope. I’m throwing down the “Right to be Forgotten” card from Europe. This says that if a person has made a mistake in the past and then has redeemed past behaviors with present, they have the “right to forget”, meaning that it’s been forgiven.  And because this is the world wide web, I can say I honestly don’t care what Vivzi did or said ten years ago.

TLDR: Everything brought up as “problematic” is, in all honesty, angry people looking for a reason to be angry.

Next!

Beastars!

Now, according to Barnes and Noble, Beastars is rated 12-17 recommended. Generally that’s a teen to older teen rating. On the other hand, Netflix rated it TV-MA, meaning for mature audiences. So it’s weird. Anyway, rather than going by why people have said about Beastars (negatively) we’re gonna use TV-MA’s guide!

D - Sexual or Suggestive Dialogue: Yup. “Breeding” is a very popular topic in Beastars. It’s part of why Haru is bullied so much. And, come on, Legoshi is given a bunny porn magazine to read. Like, for real. But the nice thing is, the conversation is very casual, so it’s easy to miss. So it’s not a huge deal.

L - Course or crude language: Yup, there’s swearing. Moving on

S - Sexual content: Oh yeah, Haru’s got that covered. In fact, there is a lot of sexual themes in this. But is it porn? No more than Panty and Stocking, and that’s a trip and a half. But also, it’s about as sexual as Sailor Moon. Like, in all seriousness, Usagi is banging Mamoru at 12-16 way more than Haru is banging Louis at 18. Just saying. And it’s shown about as much, so. Yeah. While sexuality isn’t a theme in the porn aspect, it is something that brings up a discussion. The discussion of “can sex be empowering?” And the answer is yes, absolutely, that’s why we don’t slut shame on my blog. But also, another discussion is “can sex skew your perspective of right and wrong”, and the answer is, again, yes! It can! And it might be a good thing.

V - Violence: Yup. But it’s less violent than Tokyo Ghoul. It’s not vamped to 100, it’s not bad. But again, its something to bring up discussion. “Should your physical/biological makeup dictated your actions?” In this, we see very aggressive and even violent herbivores, and on the flip side, very passive and very gentle carnivores. And much like other conversations of what’s socially acceptable, a violent aggressive herbivore is wildly more accepted than a mild, meek carnivore. And heaven forbid carnivores behave like the prideful and aggressive herbivores, ‘cause that’ll get them thrown into jail. So yes, there is violence; violence due to biology and social norms.

So, for being as sexual or as violent as other anime in existence, why is it “problematic”? Probably because people hate furries as much as they hate bronies. People don’t like sexualized anthros. The only place anthros are acceptable is in a Disney movie.

Remember that word I “forgot” at the beginning? The word people meant to use instead of problematic? The word is “discomforting”. It makes you uncomfortable. It doesn’t fit into the norm of what has been “acceptable” in media. As much as South Park, Family Guy, Futurama and other “adult” animation has been using “adult” humor and “adult” themes, it’s not adult in maturity. It’s slap stick, and crude.

People are using “problematic” for cartoon media, or media in general, that is taking actual adult themes and creative adult humor and saying “We’re not here to make you comfortable, we’re here to make you think.” People don’t want to think, people want their minds to be numb, and that is problematic. Not the show, the fact that you don’t want to think. And another thing that is problematic is how people push away actual proper representation and label it as “problematic”, and then complain that they aren’t represented at all; let alone properly. (Those who have followed me for a while know what I’m talking about I don’t need more people to argue with me on that topic.)

Quit using problematic to describe things that are discomforting. And quit acting like being uncomfortable is bad. Being uncomfortable means your growing, and your being tested. And being tested isn’t bad either. Long story short, quit acting like everyone has to accommodate to you because you “don’t like it” or it “hurts your feelings” or makes you uncomfortable. Nothing in life is comfortable, and if you don’t like something, don’t look at it. Don’t watch it. Don’t read it. You have free will. So don’t drag everyone down because you think the world should care about your feelings. It doesn’t.

[naomigirl300]

Paragraphs I'll Never Send to Jonah

I liked you. I liked you a lot. I still do I guess or else I probably wouldn't be writing this. I don't know what it is about you, scratch that I do, it's your smile and your dimples that come with them, it's your eyes, your blue eyes that perice through me and leave me opid, always. It's your short curly hair that you always put your hands through, as your simultaneously shake your leg, primarily when you have pent up energy, it's your funny looks you give me that are so detailed you look like a person from the 80's trying to charm me, it's how you say the smartest things at the most random times, its how you sometimes you slur your words when you have bands in your mouth, I guess its everything.

I don't know you well, but my heart didn't care. My stupid stupid heart. When my friend told you that I liked you and she said that you were going to egg me on, I went ACTUALLY crazy that weekend. I cried everyday not knowing exactly what that meant. Why are people so complicated. When I realized that you probably wanted me to chase you I was ok with it I just needed time because, you know, me being my awkward self I'd probably act like a fool. I guess I took too long.

When I heard you were dating my friend it didn't come from either one of you. It wasn't any of my business anyways. I didnt know why it hurt . I don't know if I know now, I'm lying I did; I was falling for you, and I crashed hard, like a car wreck that's so awful but you can't take your eyes off it either. All that I know is that you asked her out. You chased her. I'm i not worth being chased after. I know that's silly when I write it out. But I genuinely have that question. I know at the end of the day I still have feelings for you. Do you even know how much more I like you than she does? I guess it doesn't matter at the end of the day, right? I should have have been more brave, I should have made bold strokes, I shouldn't have given up. And I have no shame for being 100 percent jealous, even if it's not healthy. It's not like I won't eventually get over it.

I could draw you. I could describe every facial feature you have. I don't know if that's a talent or plain creepy.

I know you so well that as my bus was driving out of the complex of my school, at the stop light I looked outside my window to lay my eyes on someone with brown curly hair, and as you turned I around I could notice your big forehead and baby blue eyes from anywhere, miles away even. I smiled and waved like the geek I am, and you did the same surprisingly, I'm almost 90 percent you were genuinely happy to see me, the other 10 percent I think you were mocking me but that's ok I got to look at you for a few more moments that day.

Why do you like her? I guess that's a dumb question she has beautiful skin, she's classy, smart, she has a little sass, beautiful hair, and she's one of most kindest people you'll ever meet. I feel as if all odds are against me, how do i get you as my own? I feel as if I need you as much I need air in my lungs, and with every breath of you not being mine is the equivalent of me breathing carbon dioxide. Every time my friend that's luckily your friend tells me more about you it's like a breath of oxygen for the first time in a lifetime. I'm barely brave enough to talk to you in person. I know I'm young, 13 to be exact and it might be my hormones, blah blah blah this, blah blah blah that. But I've genuinely never felt this way about any one else. And I don't know how to feel about it, so i just cry. I just cry.

I see the way you look at her, the day before thanksgiving break you switched seats with Michael so I was facing you, but you, you on the other hand, you were facing your future girlfriend. You look at her like nothing else in the world matters. I wish I had a love that great, but not from just anybody, but from you.

I rember the first time I saw you, I was sitting waiting for science class to start, you had just came back from gym a little sweaty, and you gave me the silliest look, as if you were trying to charm me; I'm black but if I was white I'd be as red as a tomato.

The first time I knew I liked you is when we were at different tables at the time, and I had glanced at you and you were already looking at me and you said this, and I quote,"I have the hots for you." And I asked you to repeat yourself like 3 times so I could make sure you were saying what I thought you were saying. You were whispering the whole time because our teacher was talking to the class. I personally blame you for me not knowing unit conversions because after that I was staring at you/thinking about what you said for the remainder of the week.

I can't tell you when I started falling for you I guess it was the last moment I just explained, to now, I call this part( me writing this throw away letter) me getting up from falling. I'd never sue you from the broken soul, and fractured heart, because it was one hell of a ride. You always manage to take my breath away. Every time I try to talk to you, nonsense falls from my mouth and I walk away as fast as I can in hopes that you don't see me making a fool of myself.

Anways, weeks later you're still the first thought when I open my eyes and the last thought before I close them.

Now back to the real world; I need to stop. I need to stop thinking about you and bending over backwards for you. We're not together, we never were and I doubt we ever will be, only if the stars align just so. I think about you so much your starting to consume how I think and feel. I tend to always think about the few encounters I had with you and I think about what I could have said better. In the small conversations we had you told me some personal things. People often tell me i have a trustful face/eyes where people feel comfortable telling me anything. I always think about when you told me what you told me i shouldn't have stopped the conversation to work on the science lab, I should have been there for you, I guess I was scared. Scared you'd push me away, almost the same way I do to others. I always prioritized grades and morals first, but I pushed them aside for you, for you Jonah. Even though you never asked me to. And Id so it all over again, for you and you alone.

I bet my family would chew you alive, (especially me being the youngest in my immediate family) you a skinny white boy managing to hold my heart hostage, and captivate my mind.

I doubt you think about me. I honestly doubt anyone thinks about me. I don't mind. I guess I hate that I go crazy thinking about you, and you probably just think of me as one of your friends friends that just happens to be in your science class.

I'm not gonna lie, writing this letter is really helping me let go. Let go of you of course. On the other hand I don't think I'll ever FULLY get over you, and that's ok i just don't want to think about as much as I do, that's all. Its not fair to either of us, for numbers of reasons. I have so much that I want to say to you that my heads throbbing with words to think of.

It helps knowing that other people are going through the same thing as me. But it also hurts because I wouldn't wish this pain on my worst enemy. The constant thought of worrying if I'm enough to make you happy or not. It gets tiring, and I can't help it, even if I tried.

I hope I learn from this experience. This experience meaning you as my first love. I've liked other people of course but you made all of my previous crushes irrelevant. That's besides the point I hope I learn to be more truthful to myself, to not let people in as much as I did with you, to not starve myself for days wondering if that's your idea of pretty, to not try on clothes and wonder if you'd find the clothes pretty, but instead ask myself if I think the clothes are pretty. Most of all I hope I learn that people will come and go, but it's not what about what happens between whoever and I, its about how I learn and grow from that person.

It's as if I'm addicted to you but I'm quiting cold turkey. Your dating my friend for christs sakes. It's none of my business who you date. It's not my business that you went on a double date with her and and another couple; one who happens to be my friend. Nevertheless if your happy I'm happy. I feel if you truly love someone you'll be happy with them being with someone, even if that person's not you. It still hurts though. I just hope at the end of the day we can be friends because I already lost my chance at being your girlfriend. I mean nothing lasts forever though. I know I already said it but I'll say say it again, I don't want to lose you as a friend I don't know what I'd do if I did. I don't want to know. Also before I forget I want you to know you'll always be loved and I'll ALWAYS be there for you, no matter what. Please, please,pleasee don't you ever forget that.

And there you have it,

Paragraphs I'll Never Send to Jonah, My First True Love