#tw mentions of verbal abuse
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#coquette#morute#girlblogging#lana del rey#girlblogger#girlhood#female hysteria#just girly things#lizzy grant#hell is a teenage girl#rottencore#rotten art#rotten girl#morute aesthetic#depressing shit#tw depressing thoughts#i am really really exhauated of the mental and verbal abuse im experiencing#actually mentally ill#mental health#mental illness#positive mental attitude#disordered eating mention
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Generally speaking, your parents often owe you a lot more than you're taught to believe. A lot of people are raised to believe that parents do not really owe you that much beyond food and shelter and that's not true. In fact, you can have parents who give you food, shelter, patience and kindness and STILL deserve more from them.
By being your parents, they've accepted a very special relationship and amount of responsibility for you. Do you know how many people I know whose parents have never genuinely apologized to them? How many peopleâs parents physically hurt them, how many peopleâs parents mock their insecurities, how many peopleâs parents donât care for their childrenâs health, how many parents make their children (intentionally or otherwise) want to die?Â
And so many people donât give a fuck. Weâre raised in cultures that more often than not treat us to respect our parents in spite of most anything while also teaching everyone that children donât deserve shit. Weâre raised in cultures that more often than not teach us to ârespect our parentsâ in spite of most anything while also teaching everyone that children donât really deserve shit. It varies but its so common that lots of people donât even think twice about it.Â
But children DO deserve more than theyâre generally given. So much more! And so many things that are literally just abusive are considered normal parenting all around the world and thatâs vile, especially considering children are the most severely affected by this and have no âsocietal powerâ to wield to put a stop to it beyond what they can scramble together through a combination of sheer determination, shock value, strength and fucking luck.Â
Not to sound radical, but I think we owe children a fuck ton more than theyâre being given now and I think people need to learn so much more about abuse and how that ties into the common underplaying of what weâre owed in parent/child relationships.Â
#parenting#Abuse#Tw abuse#child abuse tw#tw verbal abuse#tw suicide mention#Depression#Neglect tw#Parental Neglect#punkstyle#physical abuse tw#childcare??#dunno what else to tag this#whatever
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personal post (tw: suicidal ideation, detailed descriptions of psychological and emotional abuse, osdd, alters, theories about alters splitting)
I have a child alter who is wildly suicidal, to the point where they'll push me to commit suicide with every opportunity, and try to do psychological damage to me as an attempt to make me suicidal. I've been trying to figure out for years what was it that made them so determined to die, with no luck because this alter does not give any information away, and seems to hate me and my attempts.
Recently I've had a flashback where I remembered what it was like to be their age. It felt like I had to die. There was constant pressure, almost like a duty, that I have to be thinking about ending my life at all times. I needed to make sure I wasn't alive for long. And I felt this at all times, that continuing to be alive is a failure and I need to do whats right. It was bizarre to remember. But there had to be a reason I felt this.
I attempted again to probe at the alter, to try and figure out whats the reason for all this, what was done to us to make us so determined to die? And this time I managed to get a little bit of information â the the alter lashed out at me saying 'well there's no other way! remember this!' and I got some interesting flashbacks of psychological abuse. I knew vaguely this was going on, but forgot for the most part, that it had any effect on me. (tw for the next part)
When I was about 8 or 9, I got my own room, and one of my caretakers, my grandmother, had an issue with that. Until then, she was able to lock me in her own room and beat me, because I slept in there, but now it was a bit more difficult to catch me. So, she would often stand in my doorway, and scream at me, for hours, in bouts of intense rage. I thought this was normal at the time, just because it was so common, and nobody did anything to stop it.
She would start by calling me animal names, and demonic names, telling me that I'm the most selfish brat to ever exist who only ever thinks of themselves, and I will burn in hell for it â she would describe it in detail how I would be boiled eternally, there was no escape from it. Then she would go on to tell me how everything that is wrong in the world is directly my fault â my parents fighting, other people being upset, her entire life and misery, that was all on me, I was the direct cause of it. And then, she would go on to describe in detail, how she was going to kill me, usually suffocating me with her bare hands. And she would swear and promise that she would do it, she'd challenge me to not even think that it wouldn't happen. And then she'd go on to describe how much I deserved that, how everything I do in life is done directly to ruin her life, to cause her misery, how I'm a demon who is only happy when she suffers, how I satisfy myself by torturing her, how I am the most twisted, cruel, despicable, demonic, monstrous, unforgivable, horrendous ugly creature that ever existed, worst person in the entire world, and how I should be deeply ashamed of myself and everything I've ever done. She would state very clearly how everything in the entire world would be better if I didn't exist.
Now, me being age 9 or something like that, I thought, well, maybe she's right, maybe I am a bad person, maybe I am selfish by not forfeiting every second of my life to others, maybe I really am the reason everyone is fighting all the time, maybe I could have stopped it. Maybe I need to think about others more often, maybe I need to be more critical of myself. But, no matter how much I changed my behaviour, her rage wouldn't stop, until I was faced with the inescapable feeling of just being so intrinsically wrong and defected that I shouldn't exist. I remember wanting to disappear, wanting to fall trough the floor and into the earth and cease and desist. I would have to spend hours and hours listening to her scream, telling me I should have been murdered the second I was born.
And at this point my father had tried to/almost killed me a few times so death felt like a very inevitable and natural thing to happen to me. I wasn't even scared of upset about it because it just seemed like one of the normal things you know? If you're small and you see things are bad you easily accept your fate. If everyone around you thinks you should die, then you will die soon and thats that.
So by the age of 13 I was full on suicidal, I saw no value in myself, I felt violence and pain was all I deserved because everyone agreed upon it, and it was what I was experiencing at all times. I couldn't stop listening to the screaming and at the end of it, I just agreed with it, it felt true, why would anyone say it so many times, with such intense rage, if it was made up? And by the person who knew me since I was born? I had no arguments against it.
And then one day I was like, wait, this will kill me. Her screaming at me will force me into suicide. I can't have that. I need to cut her off if I want to live. This person doesn't love me, she's trying to kill me. I can't keep listening to her or I'll die. And then I did the funniest thing â I stopped talking to her even though we lived at the same house. And she did even funnier thing and DIDN'T NOTICE for a FULL YEAR. Which sounds wild on the surface, but here's how it played out: She would say something to me, I would stay quiet. She would assume my answer, and say what she wanted me to say, and add 'right?' at the end. I would stay quiet. She would continue the conversation as if I had said what she imagined. And this went on for a year.
With this new situation unfolding, I became certain that she didn't love me, even though she would cry and swear how she sacrificed everything for me and was the only person who loved me and so on â I literally caught her not noticing that she's cut off for a whole year. That was some heavy evidence and I had it.
The screaming however, continued, but now I decided, hey, I don't need to listen to this shit. I would put my hands on my ears (didn't have earphones in that era) and make whatever noises to shut her out. And it worked, I became unaffected by the screaming because I was no longer listening, she eventually stopped because it became obvious that I was oblivious to it and had no reaction, and I guess that was just not fun for her. I went on to not be severely affected by whatever she said because I understood by then that she's a liar and after my life and didn't care for her antics anymore.
Now you might be noticing a lack of consistency here â just how would a child who is completely broken and suicial just snap out of it, decide to cut off the cause of suicidality and then live on to be unaffected by the same abuse that almost cost them their life until then? I originally thought it was some survival instinct kicking in, letting me know that I'm too close to death and need to be putting some boundaries in my life, but that wasn't the case. I went on to think that I was no longer affected by the years of this abuse, I never thought about it, never felt like I needed to process that, I was convinced I dealt with this as a child.
What actually happened is that I became too close to suicide and I split. My osdd figured I was close to death and something needed to be done. An alter formed who was able to contain all of that trauma inside themselves, the memories of how it felt to listen to that screaming for hours and hours until all hope was lost, until I could no longer see myself as anything but deserving of death and eternal hell. That was wrapped up and put inside a child version of myself who couldn't grow, couldn't see trough any of it, and had to stay trapped in that world, where they're always a minute away from being psychologically tortured and having their integrity assaulted in every way possible, and forced to listen how much their family members wanted to brutally murder them.
Once this alter split off, I was left in control of the body. I was able to evaluate the situation without the emotional effects of being brainwashed or tortured and decided to cut of grandmother immediately and to live my life without listening to her nonsense.
What is interesting to me is that this was the third time an alter split off in order for our life to be saved, one before was split due to my father, and another due to my grandmother, because of other nasty stuff she was doing to me. I'm trying to figure out just how neglected a child needs to be that a complete overhaul of attitude, sudden non-reactiveness to brainwashing and sudden complete apathy to screaming interactions, is just not noticed. Like this kid was close to death seconds before and now they're just fine and going on about their day ignoring everyone, and nobody noticed.
And this is not me being strong or resilient or anything like that. It was my brain tearing my memories and emotions in pieces and containing them into alters so that I would be able to live on without comitting suicide. If this hadn't happened I'd be dead. This also meant that all of that trauma would come back and make me sick for the rest of my life, or until I resolve it. That was me sacrificing my future in order to be able to survive the present. Developing trauma disorders that meant I would have to live while the pressure to commit suicide is always present in my brain, but I can resist it because I don't remember how it came to be there.
*
So, back to the main plot, after I finally extracted this information from my trapped, tortured alter, who just wanted to end it all, I said 'okay, well give the trauma to me, I'm older so it makes sense for me to handle it.'
I didn't handle it well. It was instant pain, dread, horror, I wanted to be dead. I was bedridden for days, kept re-experiencing the screaming, remembered how many times I listened to descriptions of myself getting murdered, felt very horrified about it, and couldn't see how I thought this wouldn't affect me. What even needs to be wrong with a person to go tell a child in detail how they're going to murder them, how is this giving anyone pleasure. Feeling very icky about that. How hard would it be not to speak out loud your children-murdering fantasies. Get a secret diary or something for heavens sake.
It's a few days later and I am feeling, kinda weak, kinda close to passing out at all times, a bit shaken, bit scared. Very betrayed. Thankfully my sense of self is enough well established that I never doubt if anything that was said to me back then was true, because I'm so disgusted with the person who said it, I'm just feeling grossed out with it. I don't think I've managed to take in all of the trauma from the child alter, it wouldn't be something I could experience in a few days, it's been years of that stuff. But I'm glad to make progress, I'm pleased that something originally nonsensical makes sense, I'm glad I can make connections to why this alter is so suicidal, and I can at least try to make it easier on them. I'm hopeful that one day this part of me won't need to be trapped in an eternal state of a child being told to die.
#osdd#alters#child alter#suicidal alter#tw suicidal ideation#tw graphic descriptions of verbal abuse#tw death mention#tw intentions of murder#tw child abuse#abusive caretakers
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Hi Bee! I've been a long time reader and fan of your blog! The way you write for Eddie is insane đđđâ¤ď¸â¤ď¸â¤ď¸ I love it 𼚠if you feel comfortable, could you please write something for fem!reader x Eddie where she has a history of being bullied (physically & verbally) and one day they could be arguing or something and Eddie is on edge and raises his voice and moves too quickly and she flinches (or maybe has a panic attack or something) I would really appreciate this â¤ď¸đĽş comfort and fluff at the end because I need that rn â¤ď¸
AN | Okay, but this is a little angsty but mostly soft đĽşđĽ°
Warnings | Language, mentions of past verbal abuseÂ
Pairing | Eddie x Fem!Reader
Word Count | 2.3k
Masterlist | Main, EddieÂ
âââ シ ・ďžâ: *.â˝ .* :âďž. âââ
It had been a long week. Weeks, really. And you felt like you and Eddie were like ships passing in the night more than anything else. You were busy with college classes and your part time job, and he was busy working at the shop. Heâd been working a lot lately, even more than he normally did, but you hadnât questioned it. You knew that you didnât bring in a lot of money only working part time while you finished your degree, but it would be worth it in the end.Â
But Eddie, good, kind hearted, wonderful man that he was, insisted that you it was okay. He wanted you to be able to focus on your studies, rather than have to worry about working. He was the main provider for your little family of two, and while it was a lot of pressure, he wouldnât have changed a thing. In fact, one of the reasons heâd been working even longer hours and helping a few customers on the side, was so he could save up to buy you an engagement ring. You always insisted that you didnât need anything fancy, but Eddie wanted to do this right, he wanted to do all the things with you, including proposing with a pretty ring.
Right now though, you were desperately wanting to spend some time with him, so you went ahead and planned a little date night for the two of you. Youâd gotten a few very generous tips at the cafe lately and stashed them away in the rainy day fund; and now it was time to use them. You wanted a nice night out for both of you.Â
âEddie Spaghetti,â you were grinning from ear to ear as you walked into your shared apartment. Youâd just gotten out of class and he should have been home a few minutes before you. He didnât respond to your excited call for him and you wondered if he was home yet, âbabe?â
You walked into the bedroom and found him sitting at the edge of the bed, boots off and a fresh change of clothes. He was breathing deeply, eyes closed and leaned back on his hands. Poor thing looked tired, and you knew he deserved the rest.Â
âBabe-â
âI heard you,â he said, not altogether rudely or kindly either, âhi sweetheart.â
âHello my love,â you kneeled at his feet, reaching for his hand to take in yours, âI missed you today! Iâve been missing you a lot lately.â
âIâve missed you too,â he responded with a gentle squeeze of your hand, looking into your eyes for a split second. You could see the exhaustion in them and it made your heart constrict.
âListen, I set a little bit of money aside for us and I thought we could go out tonight,â you were grinning, but there was an unreadable expression on his features, âget dinner and maybe catch a movie?â
âNot tonight, sweetheart.â
âI just think it would be nice to have a night out to ourselves-â
âI canât tonight,â he repeated as you pouted at him, âIâm sorry - maybe this weekend, okay?â
âBut Eddie-â
âPlease!â he snapped suddenly, dropping your hand as he gave you a sharp look. Youâd never heard him raise his voice beforeâŚespecially not at you. The only time you really heard him get loud was when he was in the thrill of the moment during a new campaign, âIâm exhausted and I have to go back to work tonight.â
âI donât think you should-â
âReally?â his eyes narrowed and you gulped nervously, âthen who is going to pay for everything, huh?â
âEddie,â you stepped back, your heart racing as you felt the stinging of tears in the back of your eyes, âI-I-â
âNot all of us have the luxury of going to school and working a few hours here and there at a coffee shop!â youâd never heard him this mad before, not in over three years of dating, and it frightened you. You didnât like this Eddie and wanted your Eddie back. You flinched away from him, trying to hide how scared you were.
âI just thought you could use a break,â your voice sounded so small and hurt that it broke Eddieâs heart. He shouldnât have snapped at you, shouldnât have taken his momentary anger (which was not even at you) out on you, âyouâve been working so hard. I-Iâm sorry, I shouldnât have said anything.â
âSweetheart,â he tried to reach for you but you shook your head and pulled away to where he couldnât reach you, âhoney - Iâm sorry. I didnât mean to yell. Will you come here, please?â
âNo,â you shook your head and clambered to your feet before scampering towards the door, âplease just donât.â
âAngel,â he got up and tried to walk over to you but you ducked in the hallway, âwhatâs wrong?â
âI-Iâm going to go,â you stammered nervously, almost running into the living room to grab your bookbag. Eddie followed you slowly, trying to keep a bit of distance that you obviously needed, âI-Iâll see you later.â
You were gone and out the door before he could say anything else, heading to your care. You werenât sure exactly what to do, but you just needed some space. Youâd never had a single moment with him like that before and it felt terrible. This wasnât Eddie, and you knew that he wasnât going to turn into some monster, but the moment had settled harshly in your bones.Â
Eddieâs eyes welled up with tears as he stared at the door. He hated the look on your face; he hated himself more for snapping at you. Heâd just been so tired and run down, and it had all come to a head. Unfortunately, it was you that was caught in the crossfire; his love, his princess, his angel. The last person he ever wanted to hurt. And heâd just gone and done that.
âFuck,â he sighed at himself, closing his eyes and letting out a long breath. He wanted to come after you, figuring youâd more than likely have gone to Steve and Robinâs place. But, more than anything, he wanted you to be comfortable, so he opted to give you space instead.Â
 âââ シ ・ďžâ: *.â˝ .* :âďž. âââ
By the time you got home, Eddie was already in bed. But he wasnât sleeping, instead he was staring at the ceiling, unable to calm his worried mind down. He heard the front door open and close, followed by your soft tread, but remained still and silent. He noticed the hesitation in your tread after he heard your bag settle on the floor, followed by your shoes. He hated the idea that he was the reason for your quiet shyness.Â
You paused outside the bedroom door, noticing that it was still partly open, almost like a sign of apology. You paused with your hand on the knob before slowly pushing it open and letting yourself in. There was a soft glow from the bedside table where the small lamp was still on. It illuminated his body, but you knew immediately that he was still awake.
âE-Eddie?â you whispered softly, padded over to your side of the bed, cautiously sitting down. Your boyfriend rolled over so he was facing you, blinking softly but not yet saying anything so he wouldnât push you further. You met his eyes and offered him a small little half smile. He visibly relaxed when he saw that you werenât shying away, âI know itâs late, but can we talk?â
âYeah - y-yes,â he sat up and leaned against the headboard, lightly patting the space next to him. You didnât even bother to take off your clothes before crawling into your side of the bed, sitting cross legged next to him, âIâŚfirst of all, I want to say how sorry I am. I should never have talked to you like that. I know you probably donât believe me right now and I donât expect you to, but I will never talk to you like that again. I swear it.â
âI know,â you nodded softly, playing with a loose thread hanging from the sleeve of your sweater, âI know you wonât, Eddie. I know that a one time thing isnât going to change our entire relationship.âÂ
âYeah?â
âOf course,â you raised a tentative hand before reaching over and touching his cheek, brushing your thumb over the apple of his cheek. He leaned into your touch, eyes fluttered closed at the feel of your soft palm on his skin, âI think I owe you an explanation too.â
âSweetheart,â he wrapped his fingers around your wrist and brought your hand to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles, âI am tired, and Iâve been tired and I know you have been too. And itâs not because you donât work hard - I know you do. I know itâs not just going to school full time and working part time. And itâs nothing I hold against you, because thatâs what we agreed to, and letâs be honest, school ainât for me.â
âEddie, youâve been working so much,â you whispered, âand I donât want you to run yourself into the ground. Weâll be okay if you cut back your hours, especially the extra ones. I can always pick a few more hours on the weekendsâŚbut weâll figure it out.â
âIâŚâ he swallowed thickly, taking a moment to collect his thoughts before continuing, âI know I can cut back and weâd be okayâŚ.I took the extra shifts and hours because I was using them to save some extra money.â
âOh,â your brows furrowed in surprise; you spotted the dark pink flush in his cheeks, âwhatever for?â
âI was saving up so I could buy you a ring,â he confessed, looking like a shy boy rather than a grown man. Your eyes widened in surprise and you couldnât prevent the small gasp that escaped your lips. A wave of emotion caused your eyes to prickle with tears, âI know you said you didnât need an engagement ring or a big proposal or any of that, but baby, I want to do this. I want to do it right, and get you that ring.â
âOh Eddie,â a few tears had prickled up and rolled down your cheeks, which he tenderly wiped away, âI had no clueâŚIâŚI love you so much.â
âI love you,â he promised, âI hope youâre not madâŚâ
âOf course Iâm not mad,â you beamed at him, âI think youâre a stubborn man that wonât change his mind, huh?â
âI wonât,â he agreed, causing you to giggle at him, âIâm gonna cut back my hours, I swear. But Iâm also going to get you that ring, yeah?â
âOkay,â you didnât need or want fancy material things like shiny rings, but damn. You werenât about to say no to Eddie. You knew now that heâd spoken his piece, it was your turn to speak yours, âI, ugh, also want to apologize for how I reacted earlier. I, umm, growing up kinda sucked, you know? Well, I know you know. I never really gave you the full details, âcause it never felt necessary. But in school I was bullied a lot, especially when I was young because of being different. Home wasnât much better; my mom, sheâŚliked my older brother and sister a lot but with me it was different. For whatever reason, she hated me and my life a living hell half the time. She used to call me names, tell me I was stupid and unlovable, and would never get anywhere in life.â
âSweetheartâŚâ
âShe liked to yell, a lot, almost like it was her form of a drug,â you shrugged, âIâm sure thatâs why I donât like any sort of yelling nowadays. I never really left like I fit in anywhere. Not until I met youâŚ.you and the rest of the gang.â
âIâŚIâm sorry,â was all he managed to choke out as he settled his hand on your neck, his thumb rubbing soothing circles into your skin, âI had no clueâŚI-Iâm sorry you had to go through that.â
âWe all go through our own things,â you put your hand on top of his, giving it a gentle squeeze, âI should have told you soonerâŚbut I want you to know that you are the best thing that has happened to me. I love you very much, Eddie.â
âI love you too, sweetheart,â he leaned in and pressed a soft barely there kiss to your lips, âwill you forgive me? I know itâs a lot to ask for.â
âThereâs nothing to forgive,â you leaned your cheek against his, breathing in slowly, âwe bothâŚitâs not that we made mistakes, itâs just thatâŚ.we just didnât quite sync up today. And thatâs okay, because weâll learn and it wonât happen again.â
âIt wonât,â his eyes were soft and bambi-like, making your heart melt. You loved this man beyond measure, and you knew he left the same, âhow about we use some of that extra money weâve stashed away and go away this weekend, huh? Just the two of us, no cares in the world.â
âIâd like that,â the smile on your face was breathtaking and electric and Eddie was positive he��d just fallen a little more in love, âletâs do it.â
âLetâs do it,â he agreed softly, âI love you so much, sweetheart.â
âI love you too, Eddie.â
#eddie munson#eddie munson x you#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson x fem!reader#eddie munson one shot#eddie munson imagine#joseph quinn#joseph quinn x you#joseph quinn x reader#tw: mentions of verbal abuse
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@/firstclassattorney didn't hit you or anything as a kid riiiiiiiight
hes vague on what "disciplining" you as a kid meant and I'm worried abt you now
â..Kristoph is a reasonable man, ja; he, thus, doesnât do anything without reason to.â
[OOC: HELP ?? KIJI (THE KRISTOPH MOD) AND I WERE JUST TALKING ABOUT THIS A COUPLE HOURS AGO??? FOR REFERENCE:
But yes, Kristoph, in our interpretation, is physically abusive to some degree towards Klavier.]
@firstclassattorney
#Klavier answers#klavier gavin#ace attorney#aa4#ask blog#asks open#rp blog#roleplay blog#aa klavier gavin#aj:aa#roleplay requests open#kristoph mention#kristoph gavin#implied physical abuse#cw abuse#tw abuse#pre turnabout corner#(heâd probably have the same reaction post turnabout successiont though.#remember anything /specifically/ addressing what Kristoph did to Klavier in aa4? neither do I. implied? yes.#even so the problem is that it never gets acknowledged verbally by the characters. thus Klavier probably didnât realize it in all honesty.)#implied victim blaming
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What happened in the Garden with Lilith?
Adam sighs: Okay, so when Lilith was first created and I was told she was my wife and we were to have kids as you know, obviously free will wasn't a thing yet so I thought that I wanted what the angels wanted and tried to get her to help me with everything from naming things to having kids. She didn't like any of it so I gave her space thinking she just needed time to adjust but that pissed her off too. Nothing I did made her happy.
Adam: One day I wanted her to give an honest to God try at one of the jobs we had. All I fucking wanted her to do was name a flower and she hauled off and slapped me in the face. To say I was shocked would have been an understatement, because abuse wasn't even a thing at this point in time I didn't know what it was. That was the first time and she eventually ended up naming that flower after herself. The Lily.
Adam: After that she was more verbally abusive, telling me how much she hated me, how she wished I looked different, could be different, just fucking putting me down anyway you can think of. The physical abuse got worse too but it all happened when no one was around. I think the worst she did was blacken my eye. I was so afraid of her at this point.
Adam: So, the angels were breathing down our necks to have at least one baby by now and I didn't want to have sex with her anymore. Couldn't even pretend to want to. So I was very surprised when she came to me saying we should try and get it over with to get the angels off of our backs.
Adam: I flat out told her no. I may not have known what abuse was but I knew what she was doing was not right. Which that pissed her off
Adam: So later that night I went to sleep under my favorite tree. I woke up in the middle of the night to her tying me up with vines tightly, I remember actually losing some feeling in my arms. She....... Fuck this part is harder to talk about.
Adam: She worked my dick until I was hard and forced herself on me. She covered my mouth with her hand so no one could hear me......... She said that if I wouldn't willingly give her a baby to make the angels stop hounding her then she would take it for herself....... This happened like 5 or 6 times because she never got pregnant.
Adam: And because she never did she would blame me saying I'm defective and that it was my fault.
Adam: I finally came to the idea of telling Luicfer about what was going on between us, he had been such a good comfort and distraction from her. But she must have known somehow I was working up the courage to tell him because she went to him first and made herself the victim and said I did all those things to her.
Adam: Which kickstarted their relationship and I...... Was so fucking heart broken to see him kiss her in our spot..... And to have him give her everything he promised me...... Because she lied.
Adam: Not long after that Eve was created from my rib. You guys know the rest.
Adam: I think...... I think I need to lay down now.....
@the-king-of-hell-66-6
#tw rape mentions#tw abuse#tw physical abuse#tw verbal abuse#adamsapple#ask blog#ask#ask adamsapple#hazbin hotel adam#guitarduck#adam/lucifer#ask answered#send asks
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The Margay: Chapter 9
Memorize it. Destroy it.
prev / series masterlist / main masterlist
Summary: Santiago recruits Frankie to contract for a covert agency that pairs them with danger in more ways than one. A series of one-shot snippets taking place during and around missions.
Pairing: Frankie Morales x Sniper!OFC
Word Count: ~4.7K
WARNINGS: I'm going to go ahead and flag this chapter as Dark!Frankie / Potential triggers herein for verbal and physical abuse (extreme jealously, manhandling, pinning against a wall, facial bruising, borderline choking), brief mention of self harm/suicidal ideation / Please read with care.
Rating: Explicit 18+ / language / crass mention of sexual acts / mentions of drug use / Minors DNI
A/N: Frankie breaks something.
Finally getting one of these up in time for Frankie Friday. This chapter. Whew this chapter. It came to me months ago. Something that makes you put everything down so you can transcribe this thing from wherever itâs coming from.
chapter moodboard if you're interested
Divider by @cafekitsune!
âWhy are you dragginâ me to this, couldnât you have found someone else?
âI already told you,â Santiago fiddles with his bowtie in a car window reflection. âItâs a favor to the guy who got us this gig in the first place. Needs bodies in the room for this fundraiser. Davis is covering the donation, itâs the fucking least we could do.â
âYou coulda brought some girl.â
âYeah, but I like you on my arm,â Santi quips with a pout and Fish flips him a choice finger.
The room is filled from marble wall to marble wall with standard Washington DC fixtures. The low din of conversation punctuated with the occasional chime of laugher and clink of glass. Diamonds glitter in the low golden light under massive, equally scintillating chandeliers.
Francisco can't help but scan the room as he trails Pope to the nearest proffered tray of champagne glasses, fingers absent-mindedly wrapping around one when it's placed in his hand.
And it's Frankie who sees her first at a distance. Sheathed in a flowing column of white. Black hair is blown out into loose curls that fall down to the middle of her back, face lit up in a laugh.
When she rocks on her feet he notices that her arm is wrapped around a manâs bicep.
Frankie drains the rest of his champagne, slamming the glass down on a hightop table before Pope catches the crook of his elbow and cuts off his path to her.Â
âDonât.â
âWho the fuck is that.â
âThe senator who sponsored this thing? Thatâs his son.â
âThat doesnât make it better, Pope.âÂ
Audrey hanging off the arm of some spoiled fuckinâ rich kid.
Not that heâs a kid, heâs got a few years on Frankie at least.
But a senatorâs son?Â
Audrey.Â
His Audrey.
Audrey who heâs seen covered in engine grease, cuddling stray cats, trekking through the jungle covered in sweat and blood.
Audrey who warms his bed and angles big green eyes up at him with his spend still coating her thighs.
His Audrey.
Sheâs clearly playing a game.Â
Sheâs on a job.Â
Undercover.Â
Sheâs not herself.Â
And she catches him staring heat at her from across the room.
A million watts of light spark across her features and she waves them over.
âFrancisco. Behave.â Pope spikes him a warning.
When they weave through bodies to make it to her she greets each with kisses on both cheeks, grip falling subtly to Frankieâs arm as her last kiss lingers.Â
âLet me introduce you," she says to the man, "this is Santiago Garcia and Francisco Morales. The boys whoâve been helping me out down there. The Major is, one of my oldest friends.â
âI should thank you both for keeping her safe,â the Major grins. Heâs got a California accent and the tan to match.
She gives them his name but Frankie doesnât hear it. Heâs too busy sizing the man up. Guyâs got three? Four inches in height on him at least. Dark black curls, a face thatâs weathered enough to betray that heâs never really worked a desk job. Even Frankie can admit heâs handsome. Roman nose, strong brow. But his eyes startle Frankie the most.Â
Theyâre the same color as Audreyâs.Â
The exact same shade of green. The effect of it is stunning when they both meet Frankieâs gaze.Â
And Catfish canât get the flash his brain conjures of the two of them tangled in white sheets out from behind his eyelids.
âYou look beautiful tonight, Aud,â Pope charms in an attempt to distract from Fishâs tangible simmering.
âI can clean up okay if I have to,â she winks, untangling her arm from this manâs.
âSo what is it that you do?â Frankie cuts in, just this side of prickly.
âMarine engineer,â he says, swallowing a mouthful of champagne. âWhich is a pretentious way of saying that I spend my days on boats looking for sunken treasure.â
It is an oversimplification at its finest. Because like the three of them, heâs done his fair share of greasing the cogs that keep the world running smoothly.
And like the three of them, heâs greased them with blood.
âI think we could all use refills," Audrey clears her throat, "Frankie, would you be my extra set of hands?â
ââCourse,â he doesnât realize he grits it out.
Like spitting slivers of glass.
He flattens one broad palm across the small of her back and guides her in front of him in the direction of the bar. He follows close behind, eyes searing into the back of her skull.
The tattoo on her shoulder taunts him where it peeks out from under the seams of her sleeveless dress.
On display for anyone to see.
When they reach the bar, Frankie slots in behind her, the panes of his chest finding her back.
Audrey presses against him with a hum.
Sheâs nearly his height in heels and he doesnât have to bend now to whisper in her ear. âA man more dangerous than me?â
âA friend with a Messerschmitt,â she turns to face him, running her hand over his stomach under his jacket.
And he revels in her touch before betraying the way it soothes.
âYou fuck all of your friends?â
Frankie can tell thereâs history between them that involves more than clunky warplanes and tinkering with old cars and it bubbles up like bile spat out in needless cruelty.
âOnly the ones who know what Messerschmitts are,â she tosses back in kind, her tone level in direct defiance of whatâs clawing at the back of her throat.Â
She turns around again as the bartender approaches and Frankie steps back a hair, breaking contact with her form.
It makes her seethe.
She hands Frankie three glasses of tequila with lime, balanced easily in generous hands, before she sweeps a gin martini off of the bar and leads him back to where Santiago and the man are laughing about something.
Fish hands Santi and glass holds the other out for Audrey, but she sips from the martini without breaking his stare and Frankie instead has to hand it over to the other man.
Messerschmitt. Since Frankie canât remember his name.
They toast, what a pleasure to meet, happy you boys are keeping Audrey company out there.Â
Company.
âFish, the Major is a pilot, he was Air Force.â
âIn my youth,â the man quips.
âIâve heard,â he drains his glass and doesnât attempt to continue down the path what Santi has forged for him.Â
And so the two of them carry the conversation alone, Frankie staring daggers at Audrey who shoots him the occasional searing glance every time she plucks an olive from the golden skewer in her drink.
A hush falls over the crowd as vainglorious speeches start up.
But Frankie's ears are ringing.
Audrey makes it through one speech before excusing herself to the restroom with a soft hand on Santiâs elbow, and a brush on Messerschmittâs cuff.
She doesnât need to alert Frankie because Frankieâs been watching her every move.
He waits five minutes before slipping away in the same direction.
Theyâre about to pass each other in the hallway when Frankieâs hand shoots out for her bicep, a glance over his shoulder to be sure no one is looking before dragging and shoving roughly to pin her against the wall.
âSo is this what you do, when youâre not with me? Fuck senatorsâ sons?â
âThe fact that heâs a senator's son is honestly the most unfortunate thing about him. And what we do is not my being with you. Itâs my job.â She presses something soft into his hand. âThatâs for you. If you want it.â
Frankie stuffs whatever it is into his jacket pocket and continues.
âAnd is this part of your job? Hanging off the arms of handsome men in fancy rooms?â He runs his palms down her bare arms before they settle on her hips.
âSometimes. But I donât frequent these in my downtime. This is a favor.â
âA favor. To him.â
âYes.â
âSo you donât make a habit of this? Being this charming.â
âAw you really think so?â She snarks and Frankieâs hands on her hips slam her back against the wall.
âYou like it, donât you. All of these eyes on you. Driving me insane.â His fingers brush a curl from her cheek. âDonât play coy, I see how they look at you. Do you beg them for it, Audrey?âÂ
âThey look at me because Iâm a novelty in this room, Frankie.âÂ
And sheâs not wrong. Sheâs a lithe beautiful thing with rich bronze skin in a room of wives and mistresses the same shade of blonde caked in the same shade of orange. She moves through a sea of hungry eyes with comfort precisely because she doesnât give a fuck about the other men in this room.
Not even really about Messerschmitt. Not now that heâs here.
âYou mean you donât work your way into their beds? Let them fuck you until youâre screaming?â
She scoffs a ânoâ and Frankie listens but doesnât hear.
âIs it their money? Their expensive whiskey and the thread count of their sheets that makes you come?â
His hand skates up over her chest, fingers feather-light over the skin of her collarbone that peeks out from under the high neck of her dress.
âBecause thereâs no way their cocks are satisfying you. That room is rife with overcompensation.âÂ
Everything to this point has been some twisted form of foreplay.
But Frankie tips.
His hand moves to her neck now, the broad span of it making easy work of fitting around her throat.Â
Because some part of him believes this. Believes that Messerschmitt has had her and would have had her tonight if Santi hadnât dragged him here and it makes him wonder how many others.Â
He needs to know how many others.Â
Frankie's eyes are blown dark, logic is abandoned in a brain fogged with jealousy. Skin thrumming with possession.
And itâs out before he can catch it.
âHow many of them have had you, Audrey?â Rumbled through low registers of his voice.
He uses his index finger to roughly angle her face back to him from where sheâs glanced back into the room.
âHow many of them have seen you fall apart? Hmm? How many of them have left you shaking?â
His body holds her against the wall, thighs pressed to hers, his elbow jammed painfully in the sparse space between them where he holds her.Â
And Audrey just watches, gaze angled down her nose.
Amused.
Frankieâs a man in a trance as he runs the pad of his thumb over the lush of her bottom lip, hot breath following its path.
âHave they seen the way your mouth falls open when you clench around them? Do they know that you can see these little fucking teeth when you do,â he snarls it, sliding his thumb over her top incisors before slipping it farther to slide over her tongue.
He tastes of lime and ozone.
âHow many of them have come in this pretty little mouth, Audrey?â Frankie presses down with his thumb to open it wider.Â
She could bite down. She could box his ears and take out an eardrum or both. She could throw a knee into his crotch.
She could scream.
Sheâs not going to.
Not yet.
But she could.Â
He adjusts his grip and his middle finger and thumb dig painfully into the space at the hinge of her jaw and he gives her head a small shake, voice dripping with condescension. âDo you swallow for them, or is that just for me?âÂ
And it should frighten her. The way her sweet soft Frankie has gone dark.Â
The way heâs a hairâs breadth away from squeezing down on her pulse.
The way he could crush her jaw with the strength of his hand alone.
But this?Â
This is always there.Â
Churning under the surface until it heats enough to boil.
It's what she loves about him.
âDo you let them come inside you too? Let them empty their balls into your hot little cunt and leave you dripping?â He shifts one leg to the outside of hers to press her further into the wall with his body.
And it should terrify her, this being caged in, his fingers jammed hard into her mandible as he spits and seethes with equal parts disdain and infatuation.
âDo they fill you up like I do? With as much as I do?â
The hard line of Frankieâs cock pressed against her hip telegraphs unyielding, sick pleasure.
âDo they fuck you better than I do, Audrey?â
âThere is no âtheyâ Frankie.â
âOh? Well then. Does that man. Out there. Fuck you. Better than I do.â His arm twitches with each sentence, moving her head with it.
She should be ashamed of how wet she is.
âWould you let him come down your throat the way that you let me?âÂ
And she doesnât dare give him the satisfaction of the truth.
âI know he doesnât eat you out the way that I do. Doesnât make you come on his face.â He presses his nose to her cheek, breathing in the scent of her. âI can tell.â
âBut I bet heâd still give it to you. If you wanted him to.â
He doesnât realize that heâs growling with every breath.
âI donât want...â
âBut would he. Fuck you.âÂ
âYes.â
And Frankieâs nostrils flare and a breath hisses through his teeth.
His hold on her tightens.
âYeah, I bet he would. Because youâre a fuckinâ toy. A pretty little plaything to be used when the need strikes and thenâŚâ he trails off. âHeâd fuck you but he wouldnât keep you.â
âYeahâ" he growls.
"I wouldnât either.â
And Frankie says it because heâs frothing with impotence at what he doesnât have to offer.
Any one of these men could give her the world.Â
They paid $14K just to stand in this room.Â
But Frankie wouldnât keep her because Frankie doesnât deserve her.Â
And Frankie makes it her fault.Â
Lashing out at her for the way she consumes him.
And all of this. This is trying to prove himself with his body where the rest of him falls short.
Because itâs all he knows.
The Delta who gave his body to the Stars and Stripes in search of validity and purpose and a place in this world.Â
And those colors chewed him up and spat him out tasting like a bad back and a coke problem.
But heâs taken it too far now.
Still gripping hard at her jaw.
And her scorpionâs tongue delivers a barb that sticks right in the spot in his brain where heâs regretted it every moment of his existence since that night.
âYou going to strangle me again, Francisco?â
The antidote to his fever.
âNo,â the grip on her loosens.
The fight drains through the soles of his feet and back to the earth to be transmuted into something that doesnât destroy.
He breathes without snarling.
And rests his forehead against hers before taking half a step back.
And she tips her face to hover her lips over his but neither of them move any farther.
They just breathe.
Looking like lovers to anyone who is watching.
She brushes a hand over the napkin slipped into his jacket pocket. âMemorize it. Or donât. But destroy it either way.â
And Audrey slips from between him and the wall.
Frankie doesnât move to turn around, instead bracing his forearm against wallpaper, listening to her heels on marble as she returns to the bathroom.
âAnd Frankie,â she calls over her shoulder, staving off the shattering of her voice. âPlease be nice.â
He snorts as he spins and leans heavy against drywall, head thudding backwards. He scrubs a palm down his face and breathes deep, trying to bring himself back to even.
Trying to stave off the panic winding around his organs.
Threatening to constrict.
He has no idea what just happened.Â
Frantic fingers scramble for the thing in his pocket.
A napkin that he unfolds.Â
An address in Alexandria.
Her address.
He storms off to the gents and into a stall, mentally repeating the numbers and letters until itâs ingrained before he drops it in the toilet bowl. Blue ink bleeds into something illegible before he flushes it away.
His stomach turns and for a moment he thinks tequila is going to follow it.Â
Frankie breathes in hard through his nose and out with a hiss, storming out of the stall to splash cold water into his face.
He prays he hasnât left a bruise.
_____
âYou good?â Santi whispers when Audrey slips in beside him.
âYeah, do I look fine?â
He gives her a quick once-over. âPhysically, yes. Spiritually?â Pope tips his glass of tequila towards her hand and she drains it as applause breaks out at the end of another speech.
âHe okay?â
âDunno.â
Santiago casts a look over his shoulder towards the bathrooms.
âCome, let me get you another,â he gently presses an open palm to Audrey's elbow, leading her to the bar.Â
âGin and soda.â Santi knows her and joins. âTwo."
Santi knows the two of them well enough to hit on what just happened. "That really spun him up, huh?â
âNever meant to. Iâve known the Major for over twenty years, I came as a favor. Heâs one of the few people on earth who knows what I actually do.â
âItâs not a fucking crime to be comfortable around someone," she adds in a soft voice. "I had no idea you were going to be here.â
âSort of a favor on our end as well.â Santiago slips a tip into the glass jar as the bartender slides over two drinks.
Audrey swallows a sip, letting the ice cold liquid chill her burning stomach.
âI was fucking happy when I saw you both.â
And she sounds like she's about to fracture.
âHey.â
Santiâs eyes are soft, heavy-lidded as is his way when heâs sincere.
âHeâs an idiot when it comes to this.â
She scoffs and takes another sip.
âIâm gonna beat the shit out of him.â
âThatâs very kind Santi, but I can do it myself.â
âYou sure youâre okay?â
âNo.â
âYeah, your jaw is starting to bruise.â
âFuck,â and she adjusts her hair to fall where Frankieâs fingers were with Pope calmly directing her movements.
To anyone else theyâre making conversation.Â
But to anyone who knows, Pope is fuming and Audreyâs a frayed nerve.
And Messerschmitt knows and Messerschmitt would kill for her, but only if she says the word.
And she doesnât.
âLetâs get you some food, yeah?â
âYeah.â She has no appetite but she takes the arm Santi offers because heâs the only person Frankie wonât murder tonight and he guides her towards the nearest waiter with a tray of canapĂŠs.
For the first time in the two years that heâs known her, Santi realizes that Audrey canât take care of herself right now.Â
Sheâs unfocused, eyes darting around the room with none of their usual calculated discernment.
Big, liquid things. Fighting the threat of overflow.
Whatever the fuck Frankie just said.
He broke her.Â
And so Santiago spends the rest of the night putting his body between her and Fish, and Fish knows that Santi knows something, the shame of it heating the tips of Frankieâs ears.
Audrey doesnât stick around long after speeches are through.
She takes her leave after wrapping Santiago in a grateful embrace, kissing Messerschmitt on the cheek, and squeezing Frankieâs arm.
He can tell that was for appearancesâ sake and he knows better than to follow right after her.
In the end he plays well in the sandbox. So well, in fact that he strikes up a conversation with the Major. They talk of helicopters and Immelmann maneuvers and they bore Santiago enough that he abandons them for a pretty blonde at the bar.
And Catfish shakes Messerschmittâs hand when he leaves.
But he still doesnât know his name.
_____
Frankie crawls back to her at midnight like a shamed thing with his tail between his legs.
She opens the door to find his hands stuffed in his pockets, doe eyes back on full display.
And Audrey wishes she hadnât handed him that napkin.
But she also wishes for the confirmation that he offers now.
That theyâre going to be okay.
In their own, fucked up kind of way.
She invites him inside without saying a word and he doesnât reach out for her as he steps into darkness.
City lights filter in through large windows, but a candle on the coffee table is the only thing lighting his way.
Sheâs just been sitting in the dark.Â
And he stands in her home that he canât see, somewhere between her living room and her kitchen, watching her move from the bar to the fridge and back again, still clad in her white evening gown.
Like a ghost in the night.Â
She hands him tequila and scoops the dregs of her martini off of the coffee table, downing it before heading for the sink.
He catches her arm on the way, holding her on the tips of his fingers, waiting for her to move.Â
She stops but doesnât lean in.Â
âIâm sorry.â Frankie whispers.Â
And the candlelight catches in her eyes when she looks to him.
For my jealously. For what I said. The questions I asked.Â
For insinuating that youâre a whore. Â
But instead âIâm sorryâ is all he repeats on a sigh as he lets her go and to his surprise she reaches to wrap an arm around his neck, pressing her body to his, burying her face in his collar.
It takes him a moment before he holds her back, biceps squeezing around her ribs.Â
And feeling bursts from his chest with a sob.Â
âIâm sorry, cariĂąo, Iâm sorry,â he kisses against her hairline, seeking forgiveness in her mouth.Â
âIâm going to take a shower,â is all he gets in return. âAlone.â
And she leaves Frankie standing backlit by city light, looking for all the world like a man-shaped void in her home.
Frankie thinks he should leave.
He wants desperately to run from this pain of his own creation, slip into drink in his own hotel room and pass out on the floor.
It canât be that hard to find coke in DC.
And the thought scares him enough to make him stay.Â
He forces himself to move on legs of lead to collapse on her couch, screwing the heels of his palms into his eyes, listening to water against tile where sheâs left the bathroom door open.Â
Audrey returns to him in a black linen robe, wet hair smelling of white flowers.Â
Darkness unfurls into night-blooming florals.
The same darkness that dry-rots him from the inside out, leaving nothing but a cloud of cheap blow behind every time something collapses.
And her manicured feet enter Frankieâs frame of view, but he doesnât look up until she kneels down, reaching her hand to cup his scruffy jaw and tip his face to hers.
Heâs crying.
She thumbs one tear from his cheek before itâs replaced with another.
Frankie engulfs her hand with his, turning to press a kiss to her palm.
âWe donât work here, Francisco.â
And she skates around her issue to get to the heart of their issue.Â
Sheâll deal with herself later.
What they have doesnât belong here.Â
In city lights, where people wear diamonds and Rolexes. Where mistresses and wives are the ones making deals to keep everything running smoothly.Â
Here where she moves with practiced ease.Â
Here where heâs lost in words that donât mean what they say and smiles that lash instead of soothe.
Where the air draws cruel things from his throat.
âI know.â
They never intended to bring it here.
âForgive me.â He whispers.
Forgive me the delusion.
âForgive me, Audrey.â
Forgive me my words.
âForgive me,â panted against her mouth, foreheads pressed flush.
Forgive me and show me you still care.
Because I donât.Â
Not about my body, not about my soul, and I might damn them both tonight if you donât forgive me.
But heâs still asking on his behalf.
âAudrey, please. Please,â he sobs.Â
I donât know why Iâm like this.
I donât know where else to go.
Take me back. To before I bruised.
Bruises that blossom on her jaw now in low light.
But bruises were how they started.
And she takes his hands in her own and leads him to her bedroom where she strips layers from him. Rids him of wool and cotton and lays him in linen sheets.
She fits against his back, arm around a chest that canât find steady breath. Audrey presses kisses to the back of his neck. Strokes his hair until sleep briefly takes him.
Like the warm body that she is.
And in the night he finds her, heated palms on her stomach, pulling her weight to rest on his hips but she peels his fingers from her skin and rolls back to her side of the bed.
He knows why he came here.
To fix what heâs done but he doesnât know where to start sewing up the damage.Â
He ripped too deep.
And Frankie doesnât know what else to do but offer his body and allow her to take what she needs.
To allow himself to be a body for her to use after his words and his fingers implied she was the same.
And she knows none of itâs true but she canât help but feel it.
The love she doesnât know how to give.Â
The family sheâll never have because she knows nothing more than how to bring death into the world.
But from where Frankie lies, tonight what she needs isnât him.
And it brings a fresh, heaving wave of regret to crash through his chest.
_____
âI was engaged once,â she offers hours later as the blue beginnings of dawn start to light the room because she knows Frankie is still awake behind her.
âTo him?â
âTo a man more dangerous than you.â
âWhat hâ what happened?â
âWe were playing house in a home that was never ours.âÂ
âWeâre brutal things. Where he tries now to atone for his sins, I lean into them. We were never set up to work.â
âWhat does he do.â
And she doesnât answer that particular question when she starts again.
âHe was a Delta too, once upon a time.â
âWhat was his name?â
âSpencer.â
And itâs like a gift. Frankie knew of a Spencer who had made rank before him. Knew of the whispers that spread like wildfire through barracks of a ghost of a man who could do the impossible and he wonders if theyâre one and the same.
Not unlike the woman in his arms.
âAnd now?â
âSometimes we find each other on nights that get too dark. Sometimes we save one another.â
Lives and souls.
âBut most times weâre nothing more than memories and whispered wishes in each otherâs general directions. Each one of us hoping the other is still alive.â
âHe would take you back?â
And Frankie doesnât understand his fixation on this question, because sheâs not his and never claimed to be.Â
But pieces of her live in the hearts and beds of other men and he desperately wants all of her for himself.
A wildcat in a cage.
A taxidermied husk with glass eyes.
A pelt to drape himself in.
He doesnât ever ask if she would have them.
âEveryone would take me back, Frankie,â she pulls the duvet up to her ear.
âBecause Iâm always the one who leaves.â
âWill you leave me?â
It hangs in the air. Unanswered.
And he knows now.
She will leave.
And he will be another man who holds another piece of her.
And she will continue giving away whatever pieces of her that men will take.
Until thereâs nothing left.
Nothing but murmured whispers of a ghost.
And pieces of her memory.
_____
When daylight comes, Frankie blinks hard at where sunrise streams through sheers.
Reaching out for warmth before dread blooms in his chest.
Audreyâs gone.Â
Itâs her house and sheâs gone.
And he bolts from the bed, searching for signs that sheâll return.Â
But he finds no note, no text, no sign.
Audreyâs left him.
next
_____
Author's Post Script: Messerschmitt and Spencer are actual characters that I've borrowed to play with for a moment, all credit to their original owners. Feel free to slide your guesses into my DMs if you're so inclined. Or just want to chat after all of that.
Taglist: @harriedandharassed @missladym1981 @sarcasm-theotherwhitemeat @toomanytookas @spookyxsam
Also again taking the risk to tag some lovely folks who have shown interest in this here little story. As always, please do let me know if you'd prefer not to be tagged:
@tinytinymenace @legendary-pink-dot @for-a-longlongtime @theshensei @iamskyereads @la-vie-est-une-fleur29 @soft-persephone @julesonrecord @criticalarchitecture @oliveksmoked @jessthebaker @tanzthompson @youandmeand5bucks @ems-chaos-corner @thethirstwivesclub @76bookworm76 @tuquoquebrute
Please note that old chapters are hosted on the OFFS Library page. New chapters will be posted here at Ohforficsake.
Shoot me a message @ohforficsake or comment under this post if you would like to be added to the taglist for updates! Thanks so much for reading.
#tw: verbal abuse#tw: physical abuse#tw: mentions of self-harm#tw: suicidal thoughts#frankie morales#santiago garcia#triple frontier fanfiction#pedro pascal character fanfiction#pedro pascal characters#pedro pascal#the margay#ohforficsake
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âď¸ + Zach Varmitech + "For you? Anything."
Something sweet for him and you!
M0th, *sobbing*, M0th, *sobbing*, I finally did it, after 2 years I finally wrote this prompt! In response to this post.
The fic is calledâŚ..For you, Anything. Very original, right?
Iâm back with this one shot that is actually a piece from my larger Wild Kratts Professor AU. Info on the AU can be found in the post below! Our by searching for this tag: #college professor wv au. The story is much larger, and I hope to post the entire story at some point, but for now Iâll give you this!Â
Summary
In an alternate universe where all the Wild Kratts characters are college professors, Zach Varmitech is a grumpy Chemistry professor. He spends his days teaching lackluster students and enduring the antics of the Kratt Brothers whose offices heâs sandwiched between. To make matters worse heâs acquired a teacherâs pet who just wonât leave him alone. Violet Tyler is a kind and intelligent student who follows him around like a lost puppy. Zach tries to ignore his growing feelings for her, but one chance event changes everything...Â
Warnings
The warnings to note for this piece are mild to explicit language, Professor x student relationship (both of legal age), kissing, referenced inappropriate thoughts. The big warning is abuse/implied abuse, and references to past abuse/toxic relationship. Namely verbal abuse and mental abuse are described, with physical abuse implied. The scene itself is not graphic, no one is physically harmed, but it is present, so be warned.Â
Story Links
Selfship Taglist Below Cut!
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#wild kratts#zach varmitech#wild kratts zach#love zach varmitech#ziolet#violet varmitech#wild violet au#wild kratts oc#wild kratts au#college professor wv au#martin kratt#chris kratt#kratt brothers#college au#professor x student#self ship#selfship#f/o x s/i#selfship fanfiction#tw abuse mention#implied abuse#tw abuse#emotional abuse#verbal abuse#implied physical abuse#past abuse#kissing#tw kissing#jig posting#JIG32 writes
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So you know how there are some people who like to attack/ vilify those who don't like Lae'zel and they try to paint it as a sexism thing or claim it's "because she's not conventionally attractive" or w/e and then bring up Astarion and Shadowheart "because they're racist too" in the same breath? I think I had a bit of an epiphany on this that needs to be shared. Putting content warnings here as well as in the tags just to make sure we're thoroughly covered: references to trama, physical and verbal abuse, SA, toxic family dynamics, religious trauma, and religious zealotry ahead. Also note that this doesn't just apply to people whose favorite character is Astarion and/ or Shadowheart, I'm just focusing on them since they're the ones people complaining about people not liking Lae'zel always bring up.
Okay, now with all that out of the way... I think the people who complain about people not liking Lae'zel but liking Astarion and Shadowheart and fixating on the whole "but they're racist too" argument miss some pretty major points regarding why a lot of people like Astarion and Shadowheart and how the way Lae'zel treats you in Act 1 is a major factor. A lot of people like Astarion and Shadowheart because on some level, they relate to them. Maybe they came from a household where one or more adult was abusive (physically or verbally), narcissistic, overbearing and/ or controlling. Or maybe it was a friend or romantic partner, or more than one, who used them and abused them and treated them like dirt. Or maybe they're an SA survivor. Or maybe they have religious trauma, and maybe that religious trauma is exacerbated by the fact that they have people in their lives who refuse to change their views, or even double down on them, even when shown evidence that contradicts their beliefs. Or maybe it's some combination of these.
Even the reasons why Astarion doesn't like the Gur and Shadowheart doesn't like Githyanki is steeped in trauma: it was a group of Gur beating Astarion nearly to death that lead to him being tricked by Cazador into becoming his spawn (and if he hadn't been turned into a vampire, he would have died), and Shadowheart makes multiple references to the fact that she saw githaynki cut down her comrades during her mission with some serious brutality.
A lot of these people who identify with Astarion and Shadowheart because of their own past traumas have promised themselves that they're never going to let anyone teat them that way, speak to them that way, try to control them, act like they own them, etc. etc. ever again. I know that's what happened to me. Now let's look at how Lae'zel treats you in Act 1, shall we? She's verbally abusive. When you try to talk to her, she simply replies to you with "Speak" as if you're some kind of dog. When she first propositions you for sex, she's still at her most abusive towards you, but because you fight good, she wants to lick your skin, taste your sweat, and "take what's hers." Even once the entire party knows--because we literally all see it in action with our own eyeballs--that the only thing preventing us from becoming either brain washed slaves to the Absolute or just straight up becoming mind flayers is the Astral Prism, she still keeps trying to take it and return it to the githyanki, even going so far as to try and kill Shadowheart for it. Even when her loyalty to her culture nearly gets her killed in the Zaithisk, and you tell her the true nature of it, she refuses to accept the reality and tries to blame the doctor, who she accuses of being a traitor, rather than accept that no, actually, it was working exactly as intended. It takes Voss showing up at our camp after everything else that had happened, and telling her the truth about Orpheus--something we had already been told about and found books covering before that point--to get her to even consider the fact that um actually maybe Vlaakith is evil (something that coming face to face with her and her nearly killing us didn't even convince her of).
All of these things I've described about Lae'zel in Act 1 are things that can be incredibly triggering to someone who has experienced any of the traumatic experiences I described above that has resulted in people identifying with and latching onto Astarion and Shadowheart. And like....does Lae'zel get better in Acts 2 and 3? Sure. But by that point, the damage has been done. And like in real life, Lae'zel isn't owed anything just because by Act 2 she's clearing the bear minimum of not being straight up abusive to your character. People aren't required to stop ranking her as their least favorite character, or straight up not liking her, after the way she treats you for the first third of the game. Especially not when that "first third" can easily be the part of the game you spend the most time in, with you spending dozens of hours in that part of the game, which also means they're spending the most time with Lae'zel before her character improves at all. Like I'm not saying that the ven diagram between "people who relate to Astarion and Shadowheart because of trauma" and "people who don't like Lae'zel" is a perfect circle, but the overlap is probably a way rounder oval shape than people who are too busy insisting that if she were a handsome man she would totally be popular appreciate. Before I wrap this up, I want to touch on that last part because I think it's important to address. I've seen people make that claim, but would Lae'zel really be more popular if she were a guy? I haven't seen a single person who makes this claim say they would like Lae'zel more if she were a guy. What I have seen is multiple people say in response that they would actually like her less if she had been a guy, which is honestly also how I feel.
Maybe this is something worth exploring in a separate post someday, but I would actually argue that the only reason Lae'zel works as a party member at all is because she's a woman. Flip her gender and she becomes an abusive man who treats you like you're beneath him and who says he wants to taste your skin and your sweat and claim ownership of your body as the first "nice" thing he ever says to you. As a woman who already has to deal with the general sexism of our society (including lawmakers trying to take ownership of our bodies and make medical decisions for us instead of leaving it between us and our doctors), especially a woman with multiple male-dominated hobbies, that's something I would find incredibly triggering--(even more so than I already found Lae'zel's sex proposition, which already made me super uncomfortable and had me thinking "wow imagine if a guy said this"). That's not "edgy and mysterious;" a man who treats you poorly but still thinks he's entitled to you/ your body, would be the poster boy for toxic masculinity, and I can promise you that more people would have taken issue with a character like that than they do with Lae'zel as she is.
Especially people with trauma like what I described at the beginning of this..
#bg3#baldur's gate 3#lae'zel#astarion#astarion ancunin#shadowheart#tw: sa mention#tw: sa#tw: abuse#tw: verbal abuse#tw: family abuse#tw: toxic family#tw: platonic abuse#tw: religious trauma#tw: trauma#tw: religious zealotry
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Trapped |Yandere Johnny x Reader Angst|
Warning: strong language, physical abuse, verbal abuse, threats, stalking, uncomfortable scenes discussed, yandere relationship. MA
    "I told you not to talk to the likes of Diego Brando!" Snapped your boyfriend, Johnny Joestar, his turquoise eyes glaring daggers at you. "Remember when I told you to avoid him and every man that isn't Gyro or I?! Do you remember Y/N?!" The glare that he shot towards you was one filled with hate, no love resting behind his eyes.
Continung to berate you, he raised his voice, "Get the fuck over here now! Don't use me not being able to walk as an excuse to stay away from me!" His patience was running thin, entire body stiff to the core as you stared at him, terrified to move. "Are you fucking deaf!?"
     You always stayed far away from him when he was angry, back pressed against the harshly cold hotel wall, body visibly shaking. His loud voice filled the small hotel room, causing fear to bubble up inside of you. You couldn't stand being yelled at by him.. why was he so jealous? Never would you dare to cheat on him. The conversation with Diego was nothing more than you asking him questions about his past. What was so terrible about that? A simple, harmless conversation?
You shook your head once, keeping your eyes on him as you kept your back firmly against the wall. Your legs were too scared to move; no, they wouldn't move because they knew that he was going to hurt you. Fuck Gyro, you know that he was the reason that Johnny knew about your little conversation. Your hunch was correct - when Johnny wasn't stalking you and watching your every move Gyro was, not giving you even a single second of privacy. If you knew that your freedom and privacy were going to be taken away then you would have stayed single.
Not even in the bathroom did you get privacy, forced to keep the door open as you do your private business. Closing doors were forbidden, Johnny felt as if he should be able to see all parts of you, including your most private parts. You despised him so much for that, always watching, wearing a little smirk on his face at your discomfort and humiliation.
"I am going to beat the shit out of you if you don't bring your fucking ass over here and stand in front of me! Get over here now!" He screamed, snatching his blue hat off of his head, revealing messy chestnut blonde hair. "We've been together five goddamn months, you know what does and doesn't get you beat!"
      If Gyro were here, he would have already dragged you over to him, leaving once Johnny had his hands securely wrapped around your wrist, light beads of sweat forming on his forehead as he waited for Gyro to leave, only being able to hit and scream at you when he had you alone. He hid the truth, hitting you in places that were hidden beneath your clothes, giving you harsh glances when no one was looking to indicate that when he had you alone you were going to regret displeasing him. This relationship was pure hell, pure hell that you were forced to endure because you couldn't leave him. You've tried, him or Gyro always seemed to find you within hours.
   You forced yourself to find the strength to move, slowly stalking over to him with no anticipation in your step. You saw the light beads of sweat forming on his forehead, his hands resting on his lap, balling into fists so tight that you could see the white of his knuckles. You stood directly in front of him, eyes wide with fear as he stared you down. The silence made you nervous, goose flesh forming on your arms, the hairs on the back of your neck standing up.
True fear wasn't a monster hiding in your closet with plans of scaring you, fear was a crazed man being so obsessed with you that he controlled and stalked every little part of your life, more then ready to attack when you stepped out of the perfect little line that he created for you to stay behind. Why wouldn't he just allow you to be yourself? You wanted to go out and feel the sun on your skin. You wanted to make friends and laugh with others. Ever since meeting Johnny, you're only allowed to do things while he is present, and he would rather have you locked away and hidden from the world. So badly, did you want to leave. You wanted to be free.
       "If you're so scared of me, then why don't you listen to me?! Talking to Diego was unacceptable, and you know that! You are beautiful, Y/N, so beautiful that guys will want to steal you away from me!" He raised his hand behind you, placing two sharp smacks on your bottom, leaving a dark red handprint and a harsh string behind. You flinched but stayed in front of him, hands hanging limply by your side.
"You're stupid for what you've done, so stupid! You know better!" His contiuned, palm smacking away at your upper thighs, three harsh smacks going on each thigh. "Don't you know better?! Or do I have to bear your ass and beat you with a riding crop!?"
      Tears filled your eyes, your body flinching at each painful smack, your clothes providing some protection, but you still felt every harsh blow. "I do know better, I'm sorry, Johnny! I promise that I won't do it again, I'll just stay by you at all times!" You begged him, knowing exactly what he wanted from you. So, in order to spare yourself a beating, you would beg. "Please don't use the riding crop on me, I'll be good! Please give me one more chance!" You resisted the urge to rub your stinging bottom and thighs, knowing that would only anger him.
      "If you ever do this again, I promise that I'll put you in the hospital! Don't you ever fucking test me again, I am not a man that will tolerate you walking all over me! You are my girlfriend, my property and you will listen to me!" He wiped the sweat off of his forehead with the back of his hand. "You almost got fucking killed, you know that? Do you want to be my wife or do you want to be buried six feet underground? Those are your only two choices."
     "I want to be your wife. Nothing more and nothing else, I was put on this earth to be your wife," you told him, feeling as if you were reading lines off of a script. You made your tone sound believable, knowing that even though you didn't want him, you knew that you had to still be with him. You could learn to love him.. that's what you tell yourself so you can fall asleep at night, the thought of being with a crazy man that could snap and kill you at any time for any possible reason still on your mind, ticking away at your sanity.
      "That's what I thought.. only I can love you. Only I can make you happy and give you what you need," Johnny said, raising his hand to caress your cheek, his face instantly softening once you said the words that he wanted to hear. "Now that we are happy again, come lay on the bed. I am tired, it's time we go to bed."
#tw yandere#tw violent thoughts#tw violent language#tw verbal abuse#tw violent imagery#tw violence#tw unhealthy relationship#tw unsettling#ravenzeppeli#jojos bizarre adventure#jjba#tw strong language#tw adult themes#tw language#tw mature#johnny joestar#steel ball run#tw spank#tw stalking#tw abuse mention#tw abuse#tw emotional abuse#gyro zeppeli#ravenzeppeli yandere#ravenzeppeli jojo#tw death threats#part 7 jojo#tw everything
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âMiss Helena is very nice, but remembering everything hurtsâ
#đ¸ŕžŕ˝˛ nameless cries#trauma mention#implied child abuse#tw childhood abuse#tw child abuse#verbal abuse tw#tw verbal abuse#body horror cw#tw vomit#tw puke#tf2 ask blog#tf2 oc askblog#tf2 rp blog#tf2 roleplay#tf2 rp
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im all for some comedic violence but like
i hate violence as a general term. even with posts saying "rb to punch a terf". id love to punch a terf but there is a really loud voice in my head telling me to never cause anyone harm
whenever im being harassed online or irl, i always try and stay as calm as possible. i have had people telling me to kill myself, and if i didnt do that, they would kill me for me. but i didnt give them any threats back
idk if im weird for that??
#violence#tw violence#tw violence mention#tw abuse#tw physical abuse#tw verbal abuse#tw suicide#tw sui ideation#tw suicide ideation
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Parental abuse can be neglect and hating you child.
BUT it can also be loving your child too much: suffocating them in your attempts to keep them with you.
It can be projecting your own failed dreams onto them: hoping they can succeed where you could not.
It can be being strict to a T: holding your power over them by controlling their movement and actions
It can be 'jokes': constantly breaking them down without you even realising that you're not funny, you're just mean
Parental abuse can be seeing your child as not another human but a toy that you can love, control and live through.
#child abuse#emotional abuse#physical abuse#parental abuse#verbal abuse#child neglect#psychological abuse#abuse survivor#vent post#venting#vent ish#abuse mention#abuse tw#parental issues
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No, but y'all don't know how much this scene haunts me. After verbally (and physically) abusing Hunter in the most manipulative and victim-blamey way for not bringing him palismen, Belos says "I know you can do better, Hunter."
And Hunter smiles.
Belos was just talking about how Hunter is failing not only as but as a person. He called into question whether or not Hunter deserved to be taken in and cared for in any way at all because he didn't do this one thing. Hunter doesn't deserve what he has, he's not earning his place, because he's not doing enough. He's not trying hard enough.
So Hunter tries to offer his help! Because he does care and he is trying, and Belos almost slices his face because he's not supposed to suggest wild magic. Belos scolds him for that, and then immediately turns it back into shaming him for failing the palismen mission. By comparing the pain of his curse to the pain of watching Hunter fail. Because it's Hunter's fault he failed, and Hunter is actively hurting his uncle as much as his curse that literally turns him into goop is by doing it.
And then, like the manipulative bitch he is, Belos says "I know you can do better." Implying that Hunter is making a choice to not be good enough. That he could be if he tries harder. That it's his fault.
And. Hunter. Smiles.
Because in his mind, Belos is saying that he believes in him. Yes, it's also a reminder that Hunter is a failure, but that's Hunter's fault, not Belos's. Hunter doesn't deserve another chance--he hasn't earned one--but Belos is so kind and generous that he's offering the possibility of one. He believes in Hunter, even when he makes it clear Hunter doesn't deserve it. That just makes Hunter so much more loyal and desperate, because not only Belos' approval possible to achieve if he just tries harder, but Belos is trying to help him get there when he "shouldn't."
It's so chillingly calculated so that Hunter stays desperately loyal, has low self-esteem, and is constantly on his toes, but doesn't sink so deeply into despair that he completely gives up pleasing Belos. There's just enough of a chance of getting his approval, just enough positive interactions that Hunter craves them, but not enough to actually make him feel fulfilled or safe. So he'll just keep doing whatever Belos says, and Belos knows it.
Belos literally says "I know you can do better than being a complete useless, selfish failure >:(" and Hunter thinks, "Ah yes, an undeserved compliment from my dear uncle, he's so generous :)" His worldview has been so manipulated and distorted he thinks not only does he not deserve encouragement, but that this is what encouragement is. A backhanded "compliment" that's really just a veiled threat. Like, damn is he going to have a lot of difficulty communicating with people (esp authority figures); he has a completely different understanding of what so many words/actions mean due to Belos's manipulation.
#and then in eclipse lake he's extra desperate to prove himself because he thinks he's pushed belos too far#and he has to prove himself useful NOW or he's going to lose everything#belos gave him that one positive conversation just to remind him of what he could lose if he didn't get the key#i hate him sm#the owl house#kay's metas#hunter the golden guard#emperor belos#hunting palismen#tw abuse mention#tw child abuse mention#tw verbal abuse#tw physical abuse mention#tw abuse
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Deep dive into my personal thoughts on determining if I am autistic. Feel free to read or not read, but please refrain from dismissive language. I'm just trying to get this stuff written down and posted, because often that's cathartic for me. TW for negativity, mentions of mental illness, and verbal/emotional abuse.
Iâve been seriously considering the idea that Iâm autistic for a little over a year now (probably longer if Iâm being honest), though a conversation with a good friend yesterday sparked an interest in putting everything into writing. This past year was exceptionally bad as far as mental health is concerned, and I generally assumed depression and anxiety were responsible for a lot of my issues getting worse. And thatâs definitely true. But as I thought about myself and became more aware of certain traits I have and things I do and say and think outside of just a depression standpoint, I kept wondering if Iâve been framing some things wrong for years. I had always assumed that certain things I do are âwrongâ and âbadâ because theyâre caused by depression. When in fact they might be features of myself that can be reframed and understood better and I can learn to accept them. Iâve been wondering if getting screened for autism might be useful for me. I still donât know. A lot of the things Iâm about to list sound really negative. But I want to learn how to love myself and take care of myself so that positivity can come out of this.
So anyway, here are some things I do or think that, if I get screened for autism or at least dip my toes into the community, I might be able to understand more clearly. Not all of these are signs of autism, and some can absolutely be attributed to depression or self esteem issues, which I do have. But I want to get all of this down anyway.
Social anxiety. I have a lot of it. Always have, though I tended to mask it better in school. In my 30s, Iâm not forced to interact with people outside of work, so my social anxiety has only gotten worse. Iâm god awful at social interactions with almost everyone. Especially in-person social interactions (online is easier, though I tend to not have much to say in online conversations). Very close friends and immediate family are the only people I feel I can speak to properly, but even then I get nervous and have to really think before I say something. I think very carefully before every social interaction, and ponder them constantly afterwards. I tend to cancel plans VERY frequently if I feel like I canât handle being around more people than just my close friends or immediate family. And when I am with new people, I fret constantly about being perceived as awkward. Which brings me toâŚ
I have a deep fear of being perceived as awkward or weird. Of being recognized as someone who canât communicate normally. I feel like an alien wandering around at all times. Everything I say sounds awkward coming from my mouth. Speaking leads to embarrassment. I sit in a room filled with extended family and all I can think of is how I can seem ânormalâ without having to talk to them. Because of this, I have become hyperaware of visual cues/facial cues/reactions of other people around me when Iâm near them or speaking to them. I always thought that ârecognizing social cuesâ meant that I couldnât have autism. But I think in this case, I may have just worked extra hard to notice peopleâs reactions because of the fear of being perceived as different. I trained myself, if that makes sense. Though sometimes I realize too late that I actually said something weird, and I stress about it for weeks. Which brings me toâŚ
I vocal stim. Because of my horrible fear of being perceived as awkward, I tend to replay social interactions in my head over and over for days and weeks after they happen. My brain does this thing where the moment I start to think about an awkward interaction, I immediately and involuntarily say a specific word out loud. It doesnât happen in public while Iâm in the situations, but it does happen every time I think about them afterwards, usually when Iâm alone. This is a frequent, daily occurrence. I think of the vocal stim as trying to help me stop thinking about the thing, or reminding me that Iâm thinking about it in the first place. When I hear myself say the word, I inwardly cringe for a moment, then try to refocus on something else. The word has changed a couple times over the years, but itâs usually the name of a fictional character I really like at the time.
I know this one will sound more like severe depression, but⌠My executive dysfunction is bad. REAL BAD. I have entire rooms of my house filled with garbage and junk because I canât take a single step to clean and sort. Even the idea of taking a small step is stressful for me. Organization is a huge challenge. Starting any kind of task that involves cleaning or organizing gets me confused and anxious. And often even fun hobby tasks seem impossible to start or do, because my brain constantly tells me I donât actually want to do them.
Also I space out and canât focus when someone, like my mom, is talking to me. She complains that I donât listen to details when sheâs talking and she claims I âdo it on purpose to spite herâ. When in reality, I do it without thinking. It causes poor memory issues. One specific and horrible example is from last Christmas. My mom said she wanted new pot holders for Christmasâ a specific kind that arenât âmittensâ and donât include silicone grips, but instead are made of really thick fabric. She told me this a couple times, but for some reason I couldnât process the details, or I immediately forgot them because I didnât write them down. I eventually told my sibling that she could get the pot holders for my mom and I would get her something else on her list. But I neglected to tell my sibling any of the details of what my mom wanted. So my sibling got her really nice, big silicone grip oven mitts. When my mom opened them, she immediately said: âthis isnât what I wanted. Kristin I told you exactly what I wanted a dozen times. Did you seriously not listen? Why donât you listen to me?â So in essence, I had completely ruined my siblingâs gift to my mom. I broke down and started sobbing. On Christmas. In front of my family. At age 35. My mom got really angry and told me I was crying on purpose to get sympathy, and that thereâs no excuse for not listening to her, and that Iâm being spiteful. I tried to explain to my family that lately Iâve been feeling like my brain doesnât work properly. I donât know if they really âgot itâ. It was AWFUL. Iâm tearing up just thinking about it. Anyway⌠on to other thingsâŚ
When I get a new project at work, I have to ask a lot of questions and talk it out for a while with my manager (who is very patient), pretty much every time. Just takes a while to process things. I spiral a little if I donât have all the facts of a project right away. And speaking of not processing, please do not ask me to play a card or board game with a zillion rules. My brain shuts down. I get overwhelmed just thinking about it and I get stressed when someone invites me to play a game Iâve never played before.
I often take things people say too seriously, or it takes me a while to process what they are joking about with enough time to respond properly. I work extremely hard to mask this. I do understand sarcasm and jokes, but often I donât know how to react to them. For instance, I have an uncle (Uncle Mike) who is notorious for saying incomprehensible shit and making inscrutable jokes about people (Iâm sure you can guess that he is NOT my favorite relative). I was with him the other day, along with another uncle (Uncle Dave) who I hadnât seen in years. My dad said something like âoh everybodyâs gone through a lot of dog drama this yearâ. Which is true, though I personally donât have a dog and did not have âdog dramaâ. Uncle Mike turned to Uncle Dave and just said offhandedly âOh donât bring the dog drama up around Kristin.â The comment made zero sense and I didnât recognize it as a bizarre joke right away (he didnât even know my cat was sick). So I felt the need to defend myself to my other uncle. I turned to Uncle Dave and said âwell no, I donât have dog drama but I do have cat drama. My cat was sick and had surgery, but heâs doing a lot better now.â Then I kind of went off on a tangent explaining the catâs surgery. My Uncle in turn had no idea how to react to this. So I felt extremely awkward afterwards and sat there quietly contemplating how fucking awkward I am and how I canât take a joke (even when the jokes are inscrutable). Anyway.
I get VERY overstimulated and anxious when my parents force me to come with them to local hockey games (they love going). I despise it. The competitiveness, the angry fans, the tension, the fighting on the ice⌠itâs awful. It sounds weird and counterintuitive, but Iâm able to distract myself with the advertisements on the digital screens and the Jumbotron. But actually watching the game? Canât do it. Serious overstimulation.
I have physical tics. Iâve cycled through different ones over the yearsâ digging my fingernail into my palm, licking my lips, torso and neck twisting⌠etc.
I eat the same food every day. Takes A LOT to get me to branch out. Iâm really picky. There are foods (like cheese, garlic, and fish) that just the idea of eating them makes me physically ill. Iâve actually puked from smelling mac & cheese and garlic pretzels cooking in the oven. I donât have food texture issues, but Iâm hypersensitive to taste and smell. I gag ALL the time when trying new foods, so I tend to avoid them.
I do hyperfixate on occasion. Itâs not particularly extreme, but it does occur. Especially when I am too burnt out to do anything else, I find a single thing I really like doing at the time and become consumed by doing that one thing that makes me happy. Whether itâs writing fanfic for days on end or editing Digimon BGM or identifying bugs, I tend to ignore other tasks in favor of that one thing.
And finally, the suspected autistic burnout, which I am experiencing right now. I went through a VERY stressful August with my cat needing emergency surgery and his anxiety-inducing recovery. During that time and since then, my brain has been completely unable to start or focus on ANY task. I mindlessly scroll tumblr wishing I could do anything other than that, but feeling anxiety when I try. Iâm exhausted. Everything makes me exhausted. Existing makes me mentally and physically exhausted. Iâve been really withdrawn.
Anyway, in general, Iâve always felt that I didnât have traits that would get me diagnosed as autistic. And thereâs a good chance I wonât be diagnosed. But I do have some traits. Maybe? My problem is fear of not being accepted and understood, because people in my life will think Iâm âtoo old to be diagnosedâ or âexaggeratingâ or âjust have depressionâ. I have a childhood friend who got diagnosed a few years ago. When she told her mom she had autism, her mom was insulted, angry, and dismissive. Her mom brought out the âis it my fault? Was I a bad mother? Thereâs no way my child has autismâ cards. Knowing my own mother and how she reacts to anything I tell her about myself, she would do the same thing. She would tell me Iâm over-exaggerating and making stuff up in my head. And having my mom be insulted by my autism is a deep fear, because when she says dismissive things, they tend to burn into my mind for eternity. Like when I was 21 and she told me âdonât think youâre gay just because your friends are gay.â GOD that was a bad one. That one line held me back from understanding my sexuality for well over a decade, and it still haunts the back of my mind. I canât imagine what her dismissing me as neurodivergent would do. The fight and guilt tripping and dismissiveness it would cause would be outrageously terrible for my mental health. My mom is staunchly anti-psychiatry, so I guess I will never EVER tell her. Maybe her acceptance wouldnât make me feel better anyway.
But other peopleâs acceptancesâ the people who truly matterâ might be what Iâm looking for. I donât know what to make of anything I just wrote down. I said a lot of things about myself⌠and it would be nice to frame some of them more positively, and to work on certain things with a better knowledge of who I am.
#Zuzu note;#personal post for ts#tw mental illness#mental health mention#thoughts on autism#tw verbal abuse#tw emotional abuse
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Murder Drones Drabble - Too Loud TW// Verbal Abuse and Self Harm
TW// beratement, verbal abuse, gaslighting, mild self harm, emotional distress, corporate jobs
Tessa sat at her repair desk in her bedroom, not chained up, but definitely locked in, and she was hungry because she missing out on mid morning smoko. The now 16 year old girl mulled over what had happened earlier.
--------------------
It was a practice run for when Tessa would start working next year part time. She was sitting at the desk in the small office off of her father's, surrounded by branded pens and stationary. Opening the work e-mails, she noticed one regarding a bigger company hadn't been read yet, and she had been the one who assisted the last time with it. Tessa looked through the database and found the records and certificates needed for the subcontractor of JC Jensen and sent it off attached to a politely worded email that read:
'Dear Avery Johnson of Qlean Flow Solvents,
I hope this email finds you well, please note the documents attached as we had sent them prior. Hope this clears up any discrepancies, Sincerely,
Tessa James Elliott Office Assistant'
She was pleased with her work, noticing her father's voice from the next room over, she paid no mind until her desk phone rang. She didn't understand the need to use a landline sometimes, but, she still answered it. "JC Jensen, Elliott Office, Tessa speaking," she greeted in the corporate tone she had practiced with J for hours on.
The Aussie man on the other end, James Elliott himself, greeted over the phone, "No need to concern the email in regards to the Qlean Flow company, I handled it already with a phone call."
Tessa hesitated at first, but was kind of glad he didn't just walk in to tell her that, because he would've seen the nervousness on her face. "F-Father, I... I may have resent them the documents, but I worded the email politely and-" the ebony haired girl explained until she was interrupted.
"And why would you do that?" James Elliott remarked sharply, the Aussie man sighed in annoyance before Tessa could even talk, "Didn't you see that it was marked read?"
Tessa had opened the email when it was still unread, perhaps even at the same time as her father. "I didn't mean to, I'm sorry, I must have opened it at the same time as you," the Elliott heiress apologized softly.
"What is it with your generation? All of you are daft dingoes. You don't build rapport with customers and business partners by 'emails and texts' you PHONE them."
Tessa tried to get in an apology but got interrupted.
"I mean, how would you feel if one of your drones didn't have the gall to tell you something important and sent you it through a text? Especially if it was something important," James rambled on and on over the phone, "It's like how people get divorces over text because they haven't pulled their head in. How disrespectful is that? And you SAW it was unread, right?" he was now starting to try to gaslight Tessa, not knowing the drone-adoring girl wouldn't be shaken that easily.
"N-no, I-I saw it was unread, I mean it, I'm sorry," she exclaimed in an apologetic tone, not realizing she was talking louder.
James lost his composure, even though this was his daughter, the only heir to his livelihood and someone he cared about when he had time to care or wasn't too busy or forgot, he yelled over the phone, "YOU DROP THAT TONE RIGHT NOW YOUNG LADY!"
Tessa dropped the phone, she out of instinct grabbed at her wrist and squeezed hard where it was already bruised. She hated herself so much in that moment, 'maybe the pain would teach her a lesson' she thought to herself as the man who had given her middle name shouted at her.
"WE BOTH KNOW HOW THIS WILL END, WITH ME TAKING IT OUT ON A LIBRARY DRONE AND YOU CRYING IN THE CORNER AS YOU WATCH, SO YOU BETTER NOT SHOUT AT ME ANYMORE!"
Tessa pleaded, her voice smaller now, just above a whisper as she picked the receiver up, "I-I promise... I w-w-wasn't yelling, s-sir... I... I was just afraid... I'm sorry, it won't happen again, I promise."
James responded sternly, but at least he wasn't yelling now, "I think you need to go take smoko in your room, come back when you are better behaved."
----------------------
And Tessa remembered as soon as she went into her room, the doors had closed behind her and locked, she laughed to herself somberly and looked to the window, seeing the rain outside, she decided she would sneak out to the graveyard. If she wasn't wanted at 'work' then she'd at least go somewhere that she'd be able to forget everything for a while.
She grabbed her sewing scissors, the keys to the mausoleum, and a couple granola bars from the stash J had put under her bed to stuff into her messenger bag, before she unlocked her bedroom window, climbed out, and snuck along the garden's edge until she got below the willow tree. "I may as well make the best of this," she said to herself, heading through the archway to the graveyard.
The End
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