#I'm bad with drug terms apologies

[electraslight]

the loss of the addiction angle in Kevin's character in the transition from ogs to uaf really shows to me the flaws in uaf's writing compared to ogs's, at least in terms of Kevin's redemption.

Kevin's energy addiction is a key part of his character in ogs. it's implied to be why he swings so drastically from being good to Ben out of the kindness of his heart to trying to kill hundreds of people in mere hours, and it seems like this has been going on a while, shifts in mood correlating to his energy consumption. the addiction is why Ben and Kevin break apart, because Kevin's behavior because of the effects of the drug and his pursuit of it stop them from being healthy friends. Ben never stops believing Kevin might have the capacity to change, though, trying to see through the person the drug created to the person inside, like him sparing Kevin in framed and helping him out in grudge match. Kevin is, at this point in his life, dangerous, but he's still a kid, and Ben's failure to protect him weighs heavy on him for the rest of his life. you see this narrative and think well, if he's redeemed later, this should be important. recovery should be hard, especially when he seems to have been in survival mode for years. it must be hard for Ben to trust him afterwards, especially with the sheer amount of pain they've put each other through, Kevin especially, because of his addiction.

in uaf, Kevin is already good. he can still absorb things, but they don't hurt him now, they aren't a compromise he makes, sanity for safety. he's a con man, he makes measured plans and scams, not drugged out bids of random violence. he's calm, mostly, and he's a good guy now, and he'll help Ben because he has "honor", and he no longer thinks of life totally selfishly. this, I feel, is a cop out.

main characters aren't really allowed to have rough edges in uaf, and when they do, it seems jarring and out of place, or a result of weird writing. Ben's transition from being a little too kind for Ben to being unreasonably cruel in a way he never was as a child is strange, unfitting of how perfect the show wants him to seem. gwen's random bouts of insulting Kevin or pettily harping on him for things he apologized for seem strange when paired with how kind she usually is to him. and Kevin, Kevin is a "bad boy", but not in a dangerous way. all of his crimes are amorphous "things he's done" that they never elaborate on, his scams not cruel but only conniving. even when mutated, he still seems lucid, way less vengeful and violent than he was as a child. he's not an addict. why would he be? he's a good guy. he's changed. even at times where it seems obvious to show that he's "fallen off the wagon", they don't mention it.

I feel like this leads into a larger discussion about uaf, mainly about character flaws and the white sheet covering specifically the alien trio. character traits that got lost in translation, Ben's hobbies, Gwen's love of technology, Kevin's addiction metaphor. especially in terms of flaws. in uaf Ben's "flaws" fluctuate, sometimes being perfect, sometimes randomly getting an ego, losing it, then gaining it back. Gwen in uaf has no stated flaws, or at least ones that are intentional, but because of that, the ones she accidentally has are more toxic and weird than she ever did as a child. and Kevin? he's an amorphous concept. vaguely criminal. vaguely angry. a doormat. what's the issue with writing Kevin in a way where he really does feel like a homeless kid with addiction problems and enough trauma to have that dead look in his eyes forever? I don't know. I don't know where I'm going with this. give Kevin a little violence back.

[powderblueblood]

YES, NURSE RATCHED - a hellfire & ice retelling of chapter eight's most pivotal moment, from eddie's pov

a special treat for my love @deadlynightshade-and-hyacinth eddie munson x f!reader, reader is nicknamed lacy, reader's last name is also mentioned, this is lore-filled and handsy so if that's not your thing keep it truckin, minors dni i do not like you go away warning for strong language, smut inthe form of public fingeringgggg, drug usage, extremely bad parenting (al munson klaxon), evoking the feeling of a comedown, billy hargrove gets his shit rocked, excuse all typos it's redacted o'clock and i'm a little buzzed word count: 2.6k

The first thing you should know about the following occurrences is that they are preluded by a whole lot of next thing Eddie knows. Things snapping his attention to the left, to the right, knocking him over the head, rearing up on him with little to no warning.

Number one? His dad showing up at Reefer Rick’s, eyes bloodshot and sleep deprived and frantic, putting on a pantomime of being so psyched to see his boy! Rick snapping to attention and falling into his role of affable associate of Munson Senior immediately, despite the apology he’d tried to press against Eddie right when Al crunched the gravel of his driveway. What followed was a bender that Eddie couldn’t help but give into. Al has that effect on people, even him, even Eddie in his angry, angsty resoluteness that he should know better. 

You try knowing better when you're all bewitched, bothered and bewildered and shit.

Cue cut lines and records blaring until daylight broke over Lover's Lake– then Eddie, rising at noon but barely landed from his previous (ill-advised and bad-parentally-supervised) high, got it in his head that he ought to show up for school. At least for a little bit. 

Because they’d tossed your last name around a little last night, Al and Rick. Doevski this, Doevski that, in weird, vague terms that Eddie didn’t all the way understand. And the more weed he smoked and the more Jim Beam that got passed around, the less he remembered.

Which, dumb, right?

You’d tell him that was dumb.

You’d tell him he should have stayed sharp, listened up, gathered information.

He passed out on Rick’s sagging couch, mind searing with nothing but thoughts of you nagging him for intel.

Eddie woke up cotton-mouthed with your name on his lips. 

He needed to see you.

To catch one of your avoidant, barely-there glances as you flit through the hallway or maybe even spy you smoking a cigarette on the outdoor bleachers, reading in silence with Ronnie or Wheeler.

He’d think of what to say to you in the moment; probably spurned on by the sneer you’d give him– which he’d totally have earned, for having the nerve to ignore you for so long. 

Forgive me, he'd say, hands held aloft in Christlike composure, I just couldn't look you in the eye knowing you were getting willingly boinked by some Ivy League sweater monkey.

And then you'd have to admit your little bullshit college boyfriend wasn't Ivy League, and he'd prod you with that for a while, and things would eventually ebb back to whatever shade of normal you two were pretending to be. So? Okay!

But.

Next thing Eddie knows, he’s peeling into the parking lot and the first thing that he sees, bada bing, is you. All however many feet of you, steel true and planted on the hood of Billy Hargrove’s fucking Camaro, wielding a baseball bat like a sword.  

Eddie’s heart stops for the full entirety of a what fresh hell is this filter-focused second before he skids the van to a halt and launches himself from it. 

He advances this helluva scene just in time to hear you holler out, right in front of God and everyone,

“One thing you can say for Eddie Munson, is at least the motherfucker can get hard!” 

Eddie’s tread stutters and he wonders if this is what people mean when they use the expression taken out at the knees. Can he get a fucking encore, please? 

But then there’s the issue of the rabies-ridden Hargrove, the kid who’s snorted so much of Eddie’s dubiously cut supply that it’s no wonder that word has gotten around that he can’t keep his johnson rigid. There’s a thread dangling somewhere that makes Eddie wonder how familiar you are with that concept but. Alas. Digression. 

Hargrove calls you a cunt, and Eddie’s vision is replaced with a swathe of red. 

How ‘bout you try playing it cool, hearing someone talk to your girl like that, after a night of fun family drug-taking? 

Wait. His what? Hold on--

Next thing Eddie knows, he’s side-swiping Hargrove like a dirty bumper car, yak yaks something kind of funny (he hopes) and does not turn to look at you standing backlit like a holy fucking statue. Because he knows you’ll look beautiful up there, white hot with rage, holding a weapon poised for minor automotive destruction. He can’t handle beauty, not right now. Because of that thing from before with his knees. 

“...now her snooty ass is spreading it for half of Hawkins! Desperate! Stringin’ you along like the dumb piece of shortbus shit you a–”

It’s impossible to say whose hair trigger that tugged first, yours or Eddie’s. That’s like chicken vs egg. That’s like Han vs Greedo. That’s like, irrelevant. 

That baseball bat clatters to the pavement, a hearty overture to Eddie’s surge of empowerment, of rage, of insisting that she isn’t, I’m not, she isn’t, I’m not, nobody talks about her like that–

Next thing Eddie knows, he’s sitting beside you. Outside the principal’s office. Hand split open and aching, nose backed up and a little bleeding, coming down like the fucking Hindenberg. Reckoning with the fact that he wouldn’t need to be a little morning-after zipped on coke to throw a punch for you, if it came down to it. If it came down to it, he would have tried caving in Billy Hargrove’s other eye socket. He would have made him look like the Elephant Man if you needed him to. 

He liked that Eraserhead movie you made him watch. 

“He needs an ice pack…”

The soft mumble from you makes Eddie take this breath that makes his chest feel like it might concave. You, you. Reckless, unbuttoned, unlaced, off-kilter you, that still had time to snap at him after he’d tried to freeze you out, that still had eyes that asked him did it hurt? 

Eddie eavesdrops on as much of your grilling with Higgins and the hot guidance counsellor as his damaged eardrums will allow. Temporary insanity. Disgusting prank. He wonders what that’s about… and again, didn’t even think to question what brought you onto the hood of Hargrove’s car. He just saw you. He just acted.

He just keeps doing that. 

And then he hears. College. Application deadlines are within touching distance. 

“I can turn this around.”

Of course. Eddie hadn’t even thought about that, because he’s him. And it was something you were probably worrying yourself sick over, because you’re you– you wanted out of here. To get up, go, be someone great.

“New York, ideally,” you’d said to him once, tightrope walking across the broken bleachers outside; you’d been waiting around for him to give you a ride home, but he had a deal to make first. You were weirdly patient, weirdly pensive that day. “Someplace I can go and burrow in and absorb everything and grow out of a crack in the sidewalk, new.” 

Eddie’d held your hand, helping you step over a gap in the bench, “Not taking Manhattan by storm? Hurricane Lacy?” 

You–and he remembered this–had held onto his hand for a few more minutes, a cigarette dwindling in the other. Your fingers were cold; they clutched at his a little tighter when you spoke again. 

“No. Not Manhattan, not midtown, not big business. I have precipitated a change in my weathervane.”

“What does that mean?”

“Means that someone taught me the difference between being important and being significant.” 

Back in the room. Eddie drawls out some stupid crack to Higgins, who he’s still supplying with enough benzos to take out Jonestown a second time, which is the only reason he hasn’t been booted out of Hawkins High for absolute and final good. And then you’re alone again, the two of you. Together. 

“Wanna get out of here?”

Next thing Eddie knows, he’s spending the last of his energy like it’s burning a hole in his pocket, horsing around on the nurse’s saddle stool while you rifle through her office. You are all edgy and commanding because you have no idea how to say sorry you got wailed on by Hargrove for me.

Good. He likes you better like this, at least for right now. Likes to watch you attempt to pirouette on the razor’s edge of your relationship to one another, mostly because your attempt is more graceful and easier to watch than his is. And he likes to watch you. Watch you do anything, really. 

Watch you snap at him to get on the bed. Fuck. 

Watch you tear and dab at his busted knuckles. Fuckfuck. 

Watch you talk about Cat People and press his hand to his chest and tell him he’s injured and wrong and watch you watch searing, singing alcohol on his split lip dry up. Eddie watches your eyes brighten and darken with curious affection, like those twinkle lights that fade in and out, steady as breathing. His breathing is anything but steady. His knees have come apart, letting you stand between them.

You dab and he lets this broken sound loose from him, because the proximity of your body to his feels like a fresh fucking spring breeze and god, god, the way you’re touching him with such gentle, measured movements, like you’ve choreographed every one–

You’re so exact. You’re so organized. He wants to unexact you.

Eddie uses his good hand, not that either of them are really any good, and presses as much of you into him as he can. The flush of your front, the flush of your mouth, he even has to stop those shorn denim-sheathed legs of his from wrapping around your hips. Eddie’s grip, it travels, hitching tweed up the curve of your ass. 

You don’t push him away like he figured you might, you don’t indignantly demand what is going on?! You don’t. You weave your hand up the line of his thigh, to the hard edge of his crotch where he is straining, a rigidity that’s been building since you went all Nurse Ratched on him. 

A rigidity that’s hard to keep down around you, badum-tsssss. 

Fuck.

Eddie almost knocks the word loose with a low groan that’s pressed into the supple flesh of your cheek, your lovely blushing fucking cheek, a cheek he goes to kiss or bite or something but misses by a hair because you’re straining your neck back. To look at him. Not soberly, he hopes. 

Someone down there is wishing him death by dick.

Not the wettest, wildest, filthiest dreams that he’s had about you (and categorically, there have been many) could have prepared Eddie Munson from the earth-shattering consequences of this tiny gesture. Your tongue, perfect and pink, darts to his lip, stinging and sore and comes away with the tiniest drop of ruby-red blood sitting on its tip. 

And you suck his bottom lip between yours, eyes fluttering closed.

Eddie’s cock jumps as his heart does, not a second out of time, as you clamber up, into his lap– so completely un-Lacylike, so totally… unexact. How, in all the vastness of Heaven and earth and Middle Earth and Hell and the Bookstore and the closet and his bedroom and the van could he be so fucking stupid?

“Just friends, right?” Eddie is deaf to how pained it comes out sounding.

His good hand travels. He finds your thighs, the softness there giving way to easy indents for his fingers and he knows, he knows that this is where his hands should be–unless, higher could be good? Higher, high up past those offending, incriminating lace top stockings that drilled through Eddie’s mind like an ice pick, giving him whatever the opposite of a lobotomy is. Haunting him with a fervour, begging him to snap them, but there’s no fucking time for that, god it hurts but there’s no fucking time for that because you. Two. Are. In. The fucking. Nurse’s. Office. 

But the world has ceased turning. 

Eddie’s mouth opens in a silent attempt at a moan as his fingers push past to the beating, radiating core of you that the throbbing, radiating core of him longs for. 

You’re so wet, and soft and lush and it rings through is head like a fucking hallelujah, you’re wet, you’re wet for him.

More than anything, he needs your encouragement–he needs to know that you want him to keep going. That you want him, that you want him, that–

You nod, frantic and undone, and Eddie kisses you for it just before he realizes he has no idea what he’s doing. But nothing in his body tells him to zoom out–in fact, the only thing he wants is more in. More you, more of you wrapped around him. He moves his hands with a clumsiness usually uncharacteristic of him, fucking guitar guy, fucking painting miniatures and shit guy. But it works, according to you and the way you keen against him with your beautiful, spit-shining lips parted and pulling against his. 

These little noises, chirps and swallowed moans of yours– it’s like music. He wants to choke on them.

Eddie’s voice kind of cracks open again, letting a little air and a touch of begging out. He strains, pained, cock aching against the hitch of denim. “Does he do this? Does anyone do this for you, Lacy?”

Because you’re lonely, and Eddie knows that, with his fingers stroking you deep. You’re lonely, or would be, were it not for him. And it feels like now, in the heady swirl of these few moments that are stretched into an infinity, that he’s using it against you, but he’s not. He should be the one doing this for you, he should be the one making you feel this way, making you tremble even as he clumsily thumbs at your clit, because he thinks knows you and he thinks you want it unmeasured and unshackled and washing over you in a wave of sheer blind devotion and that’s why his tongue is all over your neck. 

That’s why his knuckles are split. 

That’s why there’s no malice in Eddie’s voice when he croaks, “Just friends? Lacy?” as you rock and spasm, hands clutching him around the shoulder and whimpers barely deadened against his lips. He can feel the texture of your pinched brow against his own. 

He wants to clutch you as close as he possibly can, but he’s got one good arm and it’s between your legs.

Between your legs. Jesus fucking Christ. 

Sobriety hits like a tidal wave as your breath returns to its normal rhythm; Eddie’s doesn’t quite have the same rebound. He’s still huffing a little, out of exertion or out of nerves, as he slips his hand out from under you, brushing what was off on his jeans. A small patch of his own bodily fluid collected there too, making sure he’s wearing the both of you like Hester Prynne’s scarlet letter as he walks around for the rest of the day. 

Eddie, throat starting to tighten up, pulls you in for one kiss, to give you one last taste of where he’d been split open for you. Melodrama dances around it; shades of we shouldn’t have, but we did, but we can’t, but now I have to fucking live with the fact I cracked open this Pandora’s box and I’m sorry. 

Or something to that effect. 

And you see right through him, because you always do. Hair in a muss, lips flushed, adjusting your skirt, re-exacting yourself, you clean up any evidence that this had ever happened. At least, on a surface level. 

Eddie dares to look at you once more, and you dare to look back at him. And thank god he’s sitting down, because that look shoots him right through the fucking aorta. You, wide-eyed and small-looking, pupils darting and unsure, are asking him why. Pleading with him, why. Why do this. Why now. Why at all, ever, why did you have to. Even though you know. 

“I–”

“No, I know. I know. I certainly know.”

Because you’re Lacy. You know everything. 

Eddie does think about going after you for a second, after your curt nod and dash through the door but he knows that it’s a zero-sum game. He has nothing good to say. It’s not even you that’s rendered him speechless– funny thing, you usually do the opposite. You always give him something to say. He just has nothing good to say. Nothing worthy of you. 

So he sits there, on the examination table, waiting for the mythical Nurse Lydia to tend to his wounds. 

First he’ll will himself soft, then he’ll will himself sane. 

Famous last words.

[vidavalor]

Hello! I love your posts about the Ineffable Husbands coded speech so I wanted to ask if you caught the double meaning of the word “clue”! It is one which we hear the first time after the pub and jealous Crowley. The word “Clue” has a double meaning as it is slang for “developing an erection”. Didn’t know if you already caught it, but wanted to share that with you! 😂

Allo allo allo @the-apology-dance! 💕I'm glad you're enjoying reading my wordy rambles. Thanks for the reminder of modern use of "clue." I did think it euphemistic in S2 and why relates to a few other words, so, a shiny little bit o' meta for you on clue, investigate, appearance, suspicion, trace, Schwarzwalder Kirschtorte, and goo in Ineffable Husbands Speak.

Like you pointed out, in our modern times, clue is used euphemistically for getting/having an erection. In slang terms, it's not that old by comparison to other euphemisms for the same thing-- one of which is, of course, "pitching a tent", which the canopy-themed season didn't ignore, as we looked at in another meta how it's one of the words produced by homophony in Aziraphale's French. The thing that's funny about Aziraphale's euphemistic use of clue in S2 is that it's part of their wordplay for reasons different from how we use it so it winds up not really mattering if they know the reason why the rest of us do or not.

A clue as euphemistic for an erection in our world originated around 2006/2007 off of it being used that way in an episode of South Park. Crowley & Aziraphale don't need to know that or even be remotely aware of it for clue to be euphemistic already in Ineffable Husbands Speak because of the etymology of the word. (And, as with everything, it's also possible that they are-- unintentionally or otherwise-- actually the origin of it.)

Clue-- in the sense of a piece of information that helps or could help in solving a mystery-- is a respelling of the Middle English/Germanic words clew/clewe and the French cleue, all of which mean a ball of yarn or thread. It's a really neat origin for a word because of its built-in metaphor-- getting a clue is pulling on threads to unravel a mystery. It also evolved into having a nautical meaning... and we know these two and the sea.

A clue with relation to seafaring is to raise a sail up through use of the cluelines/clewlines on the ship. So, ah, as you can see lol... we're already at an erection euphemism pretty easily without them having the first clue about South Park, right? Clue is tied to both the sea and to thread/yarn, which is seamstress work, which is part of the colors & clothing-themed euphemisms that they have going on as well. There are some of the colors and clothing stuff in Demon's Guide to Angelic Beings and also it's part of the shades of grey convo in 1941, etc.. [I've other Asks related to Mrs. Sandwich/seamstress & the shades of grey convos so more on those soon.] But it's the element of a sense of mystery involved in clue, along with everything else, that makes Aziraphale so hot for the word.

If one of the metas you read was the one about Tip Top, Thank You & Ticketyboo, then you saw a couple of examples of wordplay around the verb to come. The long and short of it is that we humans, as you know, refer to having an orgasm as having come and, within that, is this implicit sense of travel, right?

A coming is an arrival and to come means that you arrived. It implies a journey was undertaken-- that you went somewhere and eventually got to a destination. Humans do this linguistically with other mind-body experiences as well-- you "go to" sleep; you can have "a bad trip" on drugs, etc.. In addition to this, there is a never-ending list of travel-related euphemisms for sex in support of the verb to come. A ride, for example, can be had in a car, on a horse or with your partner. Relevant to what you're talking about with clue, though, is what else that the verb to come deals with and that's appearances and disappearances.

To come also means to appear-- as in, to come into view. This is amusing to Crowley & Aziraphale since, ya know... they can appear and disappear at will. 😄 They're magical beings who can miracle themselves places and pop up in each other's presence. Sometimes, this is part of whatever they're playing at in the moment, like in 1793:

Other times, it's in reference to a mystery, which is often centered around a disappearance. As a result of to come meaning to appear, there are a series of other words related to disappearance that show up in their wordplay. Two of them-- suspicion and trace-- pop up in Demon's Guide to Angelic Beings. Crowley buried the word pish (which has ties to nightingales, fish, and peas, as we looked at in another meta) in the middle of "suspicious" while tying it to Aziraphale's ears in the entry. Among the other bits of wordplay in there is that one definition of suspicion is that it is the barest trace of something and to trace also means to lightly outline with touch.

Additionally? Something that "seems fishy" is something that is suspicious.

The word investigate-- what one does with a mystery-- is from the Latin in (in this case, meaning into) and vestigare (which means to trace). So Crowley's use of suspicious in Demon's Guide and Aziraphale's use of investigate in S2 are playing at the same root word of trace-- a word related to disappearance/appearance/to come that isn't just an action one might take to track clues in a case but is also how one might touch their partner when feeling a bit amorous.

But investigate is also funny to Crowley & Aziraphale for another reason: the words inside the word.

Investigate: IN. VEST... 😂 A day hasn't gone by in, like, at least three hundred plus years that either of them hasn't been wearing a vest and Aziraphale has a clue and he's thinking he might take the car that he's made into an on-going sexual metaphor for Crowley and he wants to go do some investigating...

...and it would seem that this has something to do with why this description of Aziraphale's planned trip involves him pushing his tongue against the inside of his cheek in the time-honored, traditional, non-verbal sign for indicating a desire to give a blowjob. Aziraphale plans to thoroughly follow all possible leads but his hope is that following the clues in this in.vest.igation will lead him on a path south of Snake Belt.

It's also hilarious that Aziraphale tells Crowley that he got his clue from Gabriel 😄-- who was singing to Aziraphale in the house this morning.

Additionally, investigate includes the words gate and ate, right?

Ate obviously relates to their constant theme of food. The word gate originally meant not a door but a hole or to breach a hole and also the eye of a needle... so, we're also back to our ball of yarn/thread in our seamstress-y word of clue. Among its original spellings were geat (so, containing eat) and geatu (containing eat + u lol). As if that weren't enough? The word gate is also found in a French word that is pronounced somewhat similarly to geatu, which is gateau.

A gateau is a rich, French sponge cake that has layers of icing, cream and/or fruit. In Good Omens: Lockdown, Aziraphale is sharing what he's baked during Lockdown but everything that he's baked is euphemistic for fantasies he's been having to get himself off, the content of which he's sharing by way of describing them as kinds of cake. He tells Crowley that he has baked (and "has baked") a Schwarzwalder Kirschtorte, which is almost a Black Forest Gateau but for one, key difference: by definition, it contains alcohol.

Crowley is the embodiment of an elegant and sexy Schwarzwalder Kirschtorte-- a rich chocolate sponge cake layered with and topped with whipped cream and cherries. In Germany, it is actually illegal to refer to a Schwarzwalder Kirschtorte as such unless it contains kirschwasser, which is a cherry brandy made from regional cherries. If it doesn't have that, it's a chocolate cake or, depending on how its made, a Black Forest Gateau.

Alcohol refers to sex and, while it appears to be a generalized word for it as well, it also phonetically kind of spells out what it is: alcohol is "all-co-hol." A hol is a hole or a hollow in several different languages and it's Dutch slang for anus/arsehole/the ass as a whole. Making things funnier? It's also apparently the Dutch word for a cargo hold on a ship. Alcohol is then sex featuring equal hol opportunity for both of them and for Aziraphale to have baked a Schwarzwalder Kirschtorte is to have gotten himself there fantasizing about having some alcohol with his "whipped-cream"-covered, cherry-topped, black forest gateau.

You'll notice that while they eat chocolate, Aziraphale does not ever eat or bake-- and definitely has never had any desire to "bake"-- a Devil's Food Cake. That would just be offensive. You might also notice that Aziraphale said the name of another kind of cake "incorrectly" in Lockdown-- it's called Angel Food Cake. Aziraphale calls it Angel's Food Cake... verbal italics and apostrophe emphasis included. 😉

Anyway... back to clue... in the South Park episode that started the euphemism, there's actually a second one that developed as a result, too, as you likely know, and that's clue goo-- which is euphemistic, as you might suspect, for semen. Goo is a word that Crowley actually uses twice in the series-- once in the show itself and it's one of the words that shows up in Demon's Guide to Angelic Beings.

When Crowley proposes that they run off together in the bandstand disaster scene, he's using a bunch of sexual euphemisms in the process, largely because he knows that Aziraphale is going to reject him. He also is because of language overlap with Armageddon and destruction with sex. In the bandstand scene, he uses "a puddle of burning goo" to describe the end of the Earth as a result of Armageddon but it's also probably an accurate description of Crowley himself after sex. Self-descriptive as well, probably lol.

Because goo is a sticky or, well, gooey, substance but it's also sappy, mushy, romantic sentiment. When Crowley uses the word in Demon's Guide to Angelic Beings, both of those meanings are present, with the idea that what he's writing is total goo (and it is) but he doesn't care. Additionally, he is also referencing its homophone-- gu, the root of the word guru.

Gu is a Sanskrit word that means, among other things: to go (similar in travel theme to to come), water, earth. Guru itself means "worthy of respect." A guru is an expert and guide who dispels spiritual darkness and is one of several references in Demon's Guide where both Crowley and Aziraphale use words relating to healers, the ecclesiastical and other forms of ministry to describe one another, all in a way that relates love and sex in their eyes to a form of spirituality.

Crowley uses guru for Aziraphale and, also, the-erotic-as-religion theme appears to be one of the reasons behind his choice for Aziraphale of the word bishop... one meaning of which is one who, ahem, oversees the actions and spiritual needs of other clergy...

...while Aziraphale goes full throttle on the blasphemy as he always delightfully does and refers to Crowley as a god... several of them.

Finally, if you're looking for words within words, you probably noticed that the word appear has a rather familiar one in it: pear.

But, that's for next time. 😉

[filmnoirsbian]

i dont know who else to turn to in asking something like this and i know its probably left of field of what you normally get but like what do you do when you know you'll never get closure? how are you supposed to move on? after a series of incredible terrible events irl last year that would require tws to explain most of my friends abandoned me for being too erratic and being unable to explain myself, some of them by dropping a wall of text of all my wrongdoings theyd never brought up before ever in the most vague way possible and then blocking me. part of me still wants to apologize but it was all so vague and my memory is so bad i dont know what i did and i dont expect them to believe that. i also have no way of even contacting them if i could figure out how to apologize for it. so like. i guess im asking is what do you do when you did something terrible you cant remember and will never learn and can't apologize for? how do you move on from something like that?

While not exactly the same as your situation, I have experienced something similar (in the vein of doing harmful things I do not/will never remember, and having to come to terms with the fact that I did and that other people involved are never obligated to forgive me nor will I probably ever be able to apologize). For various reasons (drug abuse, mental illness, etc) this is a reality that quite a few people might have to face and I think the only way to really do that is to acknowledge it happened, and do your best to not let it happen again. This might mean behavioral changes, lifestyle changes, or anything else you can actively do both for yourself and those around you. What I'll say is that you have several options ahead of you. You can do your best to somehow reach out and apologize, which your friends may or may not accept. Or you can allow them their distance and move forward on your own, hopefully learning and growing from this admittedly suckass experience, and building new, healthier friendships in the future. I know it sounds silly but you move on by moving on. I'm not saying you have to ignore or forget about this information, tbh I don't think you should, but instead place it aside with the knowledge that you may have fucked up in the past (who hasn't?) but you can always do better. Every day is just a series of choices to be better than you were, to do better than you have. Closure is honestly very rare. Real life is filled with loose strings and messy endings. But wallowing in guilt and regret and what ifs is almost always detrimental to growth. You can feel sorry--I certainly did, and likely always will--but extend yourself the amount of grace it takes to stand up and keep moving forward, knowing that the best apology, even if they never see it, is in not committing the same hurts.

[scumashling]

Welcome newcomers! You can call me Ash (they/she).

About this account

•i made this account after realizing I've been into whump for years without knowing it and discovering that I'm not alone in finding comfort in fiction about characters being put through emotional and or physical hell. I've often struggled with intense shame related to my interest in whump, especially as it's tied to my own trauma, so learning about this community has felt like a huge weight off my chest.

•fan of: defiant whumpee, intimate whumper, Lady whump, living weapon, non con body modification, drugged Whumpee, revenge whump, dehumanization, fantasy whump,Bastard whumpee, religious whump, Whumpee turned Whumper, Bad Caretaker and nsfwhump,

•I'm fairly new to tumblr and am still trying to get a feel for how things work around here, both in terms of the people and the site itself, so I apologize in advance for any possible future faux pas. I'm also a novice writer and still building my confidence in it, but I do I intend to post some of my own fiction, art, and memes.

•I'm in too many fandoms to count but currently you can expect stuff related to Chainsaw Man, Berserk, Slay the Princess, The Boys, and Delicious in Dungeon

•DNIs: I don't intend for this to be an overtly political account, and i'm not into policing people's behavior so giving a list of opinions/positions I find morally objectionable and demanding you keep away from my account if you hold them isn't my style. If I think something you posted is wack then I will simply unfollow or block you, because I am an adult who knows and enforces their own boundaries. That being said, I am a leftist (socially, economically, foreign policy wise) and related themes are more then likely to show up in my fiction, so if you have a problem with that my account probably isn't for you. The one exception to the DNI is Zionists (including "progressive" two staters) in which case, fuck Israel, fuck genocide, fuck you for supporting it, you're a N@zi, Long Live a Free Palestine 🇵🇸

•WARNING: there will be non con stuff posted on this account, as well as general content related to abuse, kink, trauma and addiction, as well as the occasional gore post. I will use appropriate tags/cws but if that is not something you can handle, or just not something you're into hearing about, please take care of yourself and disengage. I use fiction to cope with my own history and truly do not want anyone else to be harmed by it

•I do not consider myself proship or antiship and as far as I'm concerned yall both have some weird people on your side. Basically as long as you aren't being creepy or harassing anyone, have common sense around media literacy/ engaging with fiction as fiction, but don't use the fact that it's fiction to avoid thinking about real world implications/themes, you are welcome on my page.

some facts about me:

•im a nonbinary femme lesbian who's currently studying fine arts.

•I'm mixed (Asian and white)

•I'm a 22 years old

•I was diagnosed with autism at age 18. Some of my special interests include manga, horror, feminist theory, animation, media analysis, mycology, vampires and cooking.

•i adore poetry, my favorites are Lady Lazarus by Sylvia Plath, Ozymandias by Percy Shelley, and She Had Some Horses by Joy Harjo (specifically the canto Drowning Horses)

•I have been drawing for 7 years

[bisexualchaosdemon]

The Foxes as things my old friend and I have said

I make no apologies for the cursed shit you are about to read

Neil @ Andrew: Yes, malicious compliance, thank you. I knew if anyone would know the correct term for spiteful behaviour, it would be you.

Neil or Kevin: I'm working on two hours of sleep and a protein bar, I am ready to fight God or BECOME HIM!

Nicky: *cackling maniacally while shoving a muffin in his mouth* *process to almost choke to death on said muffin*

Neil: What's the word? Clothes soap?

Nicky: Pinoccio can turn into a sex toy by lying and telling the truth really quickly

Neil, talking about Andrew's dark humour: It was just the added hint of rape that really got it there

Matt: What the fuck in the misogyny???

Neil or Andrew, probably: I'm staying in this doorway, I don't want to commit a felony

Wymack: In the same way it takes a lot of pressure to make a diamond, it takes a lot of trauma to make a Fox

Neil, to Andrew: I am the rake to your Sideshow Bob

Aaron, playing a video game: This fucking game can get fucking shoved up my asshole! It can fester with my haemorrhoids!!!

Neil: *makes an unhelpful comment*

Aaron: You're right, I do need to find all the boxes. But in order to find all the boxes, I need to find a shred of my sanity!

Nicky: Toot toot get the gripping socks oot for crash bandicoot

Dan: If you are smaller than the person you are cuddling, it's not called being the big spoon, it is being a backpack

Aaron, from across the dorm: YOU ACTUAL RAT FANNY FLAP

Neil @ Aaron: Imma turn your glasses into contact lenses!

Kevin, talking to Andrew about his friends: Nevermind quality over quantity, you don't have either

Matt, to Dan: Are you playing footsie with me madame?

Drugged Andrew: I am the evil doodle from Spongebob

Kevin: *clapping for emphasis* You. Are.

Andrew or Neil: Stop being funny when I don't have pants on!

Nicky, upon learning he talks in his sleep: Even sleep can't shut me up– I have a disease!

Nicky: You are a cinnamon bun

Neil: No, I'm something that looks like a cinnamon bun, but is actually filled with paprika

Nicky: You are a paprika bun!

Andrew: I don't know what you're complaining about, I'm fucking funny

Kevin, high as fuck: You're not allowed to die. And, God, I wish you were a donut.

Andrew or Neil @ Kevin: Gonna fe fi fo fum my foot up your ass

Neil: Fuck me, it's cold!

Andrew: I'm not going to fuck you just because it's cold

Neil: Nah, you're going to fuck me because of my hot ass

Renee: surviving?

Kevin: Not thriving.

Nicky, to Neil: You and Andrew are like the Kermit darkside meme... Except you are both wearing hoods.

Allison: Keep your nipples on! Don't get your fucking fanny lips in a twist, honestly

Also Allison: Being hit in the clit with a Bisexual flag is not how I want my sexuality reaffirmed

*discussing why they would never date*

Matt: I don't see you as a person

Nicky: *bursts out laughing* I don't see you as a person, the nicest thing a friend has ever said to me

Matt: No, wait, lemme explain

Aaron: Fuck. Da. Ocean.

Matt: I've definitely eaten too much. I'm going to have a food baby. I will name him Derek

Allison, finishing her homework: My laptop is going away and it's not coming back out until Monday

Dan: woop woop get your tits oot

Allison: *flashes single boob*

Nicky: Which of the seven dwarves are you?

Neil: *struggles to remember all seven dwarves*

Neil: Dopey, clearly

Andrew: That's a big off

Kevin: I am a big oof

Andrew: What does that make me?

Kevin: A small, angry oof

Drugged Andrew @ Renee: if you ask a Christian to prove that God exists, they will just whip out the bible. Like, yes *whips out Mr Men book* wah-bam! Proof that Mr Tickle exists!

Andrew, telling Bee about his bad day: Right, so, I woke up, so already off to a bad start

Andrew again: Life is a naughty dog that keeps humping your leg

Andrew: *suddenly singing along to song* YES!

Kevin: *confused*

Andrew: Sorry, my inner demon just took over a little there

Kevin: You're inner demon is so gay!

Andrew: *dying with silent laughter*

Kevin: I am half expecting it to say 'yas'! You have the gayest inner demon I've ever seen

~a few moments later~

Andrew: Yaaaas! Oh, goddammit! Why did you have to put that thought in my head? Stop giving my demon ammunition!!

Aaron: It's your turn to pick dinner

Andrew: *thinks about it for five seconds* No.

Aaron: The fuck you mean 'no' ?!

Kevin, drunk: It wasn't great. I wouldn't rate. *burps* I used a burp to punctuate.

Kevin: What are we doing?

Neil: I have no plan. For life or for dinner.

Kevin: Let's formulate a plan. For dinner. You're on your own for the rest

Nicky: We do not ride at dawn in this house. That is far too early. We ride at dusk.

Allison: Well, if you can't beat them, climb between their legs

Neil: .... *shrugs* If you can't win, be good at oral

Matt: She is beauty, she is grace, I would like her to sit on my face

Aaron @ Neil: You're like biting into a chocolate and discovering it's liquorice

Andrew: I will indifferently shove you in front of a train

Nicky: *yawns ridiculously loudly*

Matt: That yawn had layers!

Nicky: I call it my oni-yawn *cries laughing at own joke*

Andrew: I need a chiropractor, an exorcist, and a bong

*trying knitting instead of sparring*

Renee: I'm trying to knit myself some mental stability

Andrew: I'm trying to knit myself a noose

Andrew: When you think about it, that's all people are; we are sperms with delusions of grandeur

*the monsters play Monopoly*

Aaron: *lands on chance*

Andrew: You coming to join me in jail?

Chance: go back 3 spaces

Aaron: Ha! No!

Aaron: *lands on community chest*

Community chest: go to jail

Aaron: Oh, fuck you!

Nicky, talking about why the mosters can't play Monopoly anymore: Friends were lost that day, patiences were tried, shoes were thrown

Kevin: Can God let go of my gonads?

Andrew: No dick is good enough to live on salad

Aaron, into the pitch black, silent bedroom: You old cock-blocking bastard

Andrew @ Wymack: Come get yo kid, they about to get a McKnuckles Slappy meal

Neil: There is a nice personality inside me, problem is he's mute.

Nicky: You know, it was only after I did that that my self-preservation instincts realised there was a very real possibility that you could have punch me in the face.

Andrew: Self-preservation instincts? You have those?

Nicky: Clearly not!

Renee: PHONE 911 YOU ABSOLUTE PLUM

Aaron: Where does today come before yesterday?

Neil: The alphabet? Oh, a dictionary!

Aaron: The alphabet?!

Neil: I got the alphabetical thing, I just forgot dictionaries existed for a sec!

Matt: My ankle is killing me

Nicky: And IIII, I must confess, so is my knee!

Matt: Is my knee!

Foxes @ Neil: You are always angry and always dying. You are like a suicidal hulk.

Bonus in honour of tsc:

Jean @ Jeremy: Give me an orgasm and then slit my throat. Please and thank you.

[aprincessofthevoid]

The filling that fell out almost a year ago has finally come back to haunt me... could hardly sleep last night cus my face hurt so bad. TWO naproxen didn't even touch the pain. (Tho that's nothing new tbh). Don't want a long aas post clogging up anyone's dash, so rest is under the cut.

Also didn't proof read this super well cus now that I'm not as sore I'm getting sleepy cus I didn't sleep much last night so if it's a Lil choppy I apologize lol.

Over the years, I noticed pain meds never really worked, so I didn't bother with them. The option was to take the max dose, or potentially more to get relief, but doing that consistently was just not something i was down for. But at the dentist for the filling that fell out more recently, dude dipped into multuple syringes of the lidocaine, and had to numb the nerve in the hinge of my jaw for me to not feel him digging around in my face.

Found the same when I had an iud inserted, took meds before as instructed, even brought a joint lmao. As well as going for the discomfort of that giant ass 10g needle stabbed into my cervix, and it did NOTHING... I've got a fairly high pain tolerance, but I stg I had a better time when I had all 4 wisdom teeth removed at once... and those were ALL infected, two were impacted, and when treating said infection, I had a freak reaction to the amoxicillin for the first time in my life... go me...

ANYWAY, shit I tried off Google and how it worked...

Sensitivity toothpaste rubbed into my gums/teeth helped a very short time. Sent the bf for orajel the next morning n honestly it worked about as well as the toothpaste, just for longer.

Also strongly mint?? Like specifically just peppermint antacid in my mouth helped rhe ache?? Apparently it's a thing lol. Honestly was just looking for a distraction from the ache n felt like the minty feeling might help.

Salt water rinse helped a little too. Did a rinse but a VERY gentle swish, better to puff out your cheeks and roll your head back n forth. Kinda burns but it will help kill any infection as long as it's minor.

Had some tea earlier on with sage, lemon balm, clove and rosemary. As all of them have geberal anti inflammatory or anti bacterial properties. Weirdly another tip I found was just a damp black tea bag placed against the affected area, actually felt FANTASTIC but the downside was it made my spit SUPER bitter if I swallowed it, so my option was wanting to gag at how gross it was, or be in pain... and obviously couldn't sleep with it in there cus that would be dangerous. Might try just drinking some black tea or brewing the black tea with the other herbs for some extra kick, no honey sadly but I'll have to deal with the bitterness.

Acetaminophen worked a lot better than the naproxen here. Was told by a Dr for a different pain I was in, that I COULD take them together tho (as in one of each), but since the naproxen didn't seem to do fuck all I'm gonna just do 2x extra strength Acetaminophen. Which also isn't ideal long term, but I CANNOT sleep with the pain I'm in so for a temporary situation I'm just gonna have to drink extra water or sum...

Other option is the T3 I had leftover after my tooth removal, had some ibuprofen too but left those when I moved away from fam. I'd rather take an extra Tylenol than the codeine tbh. Just feels a Lil less harsh on the system.

Fingers crossed the boyfriends work insurance goes thru so I can get this delt with... otherwise I might have to just have to be in pain to give my organs a break from all the drugs 🙃 gonna try my netti pot to hopefully clear any gunk out my sinuses as the ear on that side is a Lil plugged too (tip. Take a deep breath, close mouth, plug nose, and swallow. Works WAY better than plugging your nose and blowing).

[generic-whumperz]

Bullshit & Masterlist(s)

THIS BLOG CONTAINS ADULT (NSFW) CONTENT, VIEWER DISCRETION IS ADVISED! 

(This ain’t a daycare, minors kick rocks)

Hang your scruples at the door, horrors dwell within.

Side blogs:

•@generic-whumper (SFW whumping) •@generic-throw-away-blog (random bs & some fandom stuff) •@generic-writing-tips (exactly as it sounds) •@generic-horror-slut (for just straight up horror and gore)

The Aid Masterlist (current WIP, 18+)

Apocamerica AU

Other works can be found at the bottom of this post under “Story Stuff,” but there isn't much else because I'm focusing on The Aid for now.

Congratulations, you have stumbled upon another (generic) whump blog, hence the name! Blog est. Aug 2023. Currently just working on one story right now (yay hyperfixations), that is slowly consuming every waking thought. Help

Fun facts to share with the class:

I prefer to be anonymous on here, so just call me “Generic/Gen,” them/them, mid (quit lying to yourself) late-20’s.

Dyslexic bitch & silly goose—please excuse typos, misspellings, and any grammatical errors! I re-read and edit as best as I can, but my brain be playin’ tricks on me, and shit falls through the cracks! Just manage your expectations is all I’m sayin’, I’m not a professional.

I’m (unfortunately) an American and my obnoxious word choice will probably reflect that.

I’m currently a full-time college student taking a single class because I suck! But still, any written works I choose to share will not be uploaded on a set schedule (I write slow, my brain only occasionally works, & yada-yada), I apologize in advance!    

I run a queue—and nah I won’t tag it.

Lover of cryptids (Mothman fucks), paranormal enthusiast and certified Haunted™️. Weird shit WILL leak into my writing eventually. Don’t be surprised if a ghost or skin walker makes a cameo. It’s more fun this way, just go with the flow.

House plant addict. They are all my children. Ask me how big my monstera is ;)

Irl I’m a (professional) stained glass artist

What You’ll See Here: 

All types of Whump; I’m talking all of it bay-bee (detailed types below this section), including: polls, writings, prompts, tropes, scenarios, art, gifs, etc.

Reblogs-a-plenty

Really bad home grown memes 

Whumpy rambling coming straight from my delirious brain

My own sub-par short stories, ficlits, and maybe even an eventual series or two

My own mediocre art

I fuck with a lot and don’t really have any “squicks”, but to narrow it down, the prime pickings are:

All gender & POC whump (including lady whump, lady whumpers, mixed gendered Whumpee & Whumper combos, etc. Errybody getting whumped ‘round here. But yes I love to see men particularly in distress and blubbering bloody messes, sue me.)

APOCALYPSE

CULT

SLAVERY

TORTURE (especially in explicit detail)

Cannibalism & weird blood shit

Gore and body horror (including puke and all that)

Hurt/no comfort, I prefer maximum pain and immense suffering, with no silver lining.

When I do dabble in comfort—recovery and caretaking is preferably longer with nuanced healing journeys and after character has been through absolute hell.

Physical, emotional, and psychological whump (if there’s all three it’s a magical trifecta of hurt)

Drug (illicit and otherwise)

Dehumanization

Captivity (short & long term)

Vampires & zombies (these are my weaknesses)

Multiple Whumpees, multiple Whumpers

Family of whumpers (this is niche I know but fuck is it my kryptonite) 

The biggest POS and/or terrifying Whumpers imaginable (for the love of all things unholy, make them shamelessly bad and vile)

Chains, restrains, collars, gags, muzzles, rope (etc.)—just tie that biz-nitch down!

Explicit stuff like non-con, dub-con, forced drugging, etc. Wreck that bussy.

Other Story Stuff & Random Things:

Subject X: BB217 Intro

[angelisgonnastartchangingurls]

annie, on a tuesday

robbie's morning wood was sticking out of his boxers when they woke up. "sorry," he said, trying to tuck it away.

"how many pictures of me getting fucked did you have to report to various websites last night?" annie said. "you don't need to apologize for your dick."

"good point. also the orgy." he said.

"i wouldn't call that an orgy," annie said.

"i'm counting it as one even though i only got a blowjob and my sister was there."

"i think we all just needed to freak out a little. there's a lot that has passed between us now. and it's all my fault."

"please don't think you deserve what ryan did," he said. "it's bad to cheat but that was an over-the-top response."

looking at her phone again, it sure seemed that way to most of her friends who'd seen it, which seemed like everyone, somehow. everyone was offering to buy her drinks and or drugs. she spent the morning responding while robbie, who was done with classes, and julia, who'd cancelled her clients for the day, puttered around her house. she put off scheduling most of the offers but did accept her friend jonah's offer to bring her "very strong drugs."

jonah, who they'd met in college before he dropped out to take over his dad's fishing equipment business, was a tall, sweet goofball. he brought annie some potent weed and cocaine, which annie greedily snorted right in front of robbie.

"i had no idea you were a cokehead," he playfully chided.

"when i was finishing my doctorate i was basically snorting everything," annie said. "it was my primary means of consumption."

jonah told her that if it was any consolation, the consensus among her male friends from college all agreed that A. what ryan did was a dick move and B. annie looked very hot in the pictures.

"that is honestly more important to me than it should be."

"everybody was like, 'where has she been hiding those tits!?'"

"do i not adequately showcase them?" she asked.

"i think mostly in the summer," julia observed.

"they're bigger in the summer," annie said.

"something to look forward to," jonah offered.

"you know what my problem is?" annie said. "i talk a lot of game about being sexually liberated, you know, i'm always like, imagining dr. lawrence is watching me fuck, but i still fall into long-term relationships. i met ryan so soon after i got out of school. how did i let that happen? i need to commit to meaningless sex for a year. at least."

"you go girl," robbie said.

"sounds like a plan, stan," jonah said.

"jonah, let's go fuck," annie said, doing another line.

"uh, okay," he said.

annie got fully naked very casually in front of jonah, and then sat on the edge of the bed to produce and suck his cock. he was pleasantly thick and long, and annie was having so much fun sucking his cock that she was vaguely disappointed when he put her on her back, but interested again when he went down on her.

"oh, you're good at this," she said.

he said "thank you" without breaking away from her shaved pussy.

he got a finger in after a few moments, and before long he had annie convulsing on the bed. post orgasm, he got on top of her and pushed himself inside.

"daddy," she cooed.

jonah laughed. he fucked her well -- hard and strong and rhythmic. annie had another orgasm, and then he pulled out and finished on her stomach -- a dribbly little cascade of cum raining down.

robbie came in to piss as she was standing naked in the bathroom cleaning up. she liked that he had no issues with walking in on that.

"sounded like fun," he said.

"it was but now i'm a mess." she had cum everywhere from her clit to just under her breasts.

"high and covered in cum on a tuesday afternoon," he said. "not bad."

annie stood behind robbie and playfully held his cock while he pissed. "having a dick must be so much fun," she said.

"it is," he said. she reached down to cup his balls.

"balls are weird though. if i had a cock and balls, they'd be like this."

"true," robbie said. "if i had a pussy it would be like yours."

"nobody has a pussy like mine," annie said. "i'm one of a kind."

"it's cute," he said. he'd put his dick away now.

"do you like it shaved?" she asked.

"haven't seen it any other way," he said.

"you haven't?" she said.

"not that I remember?"

"sorry, i'm a bad big sister. i was supposed to be exposing you to sex and drugs when we were teens."

"well, you're catching up now."

"if i could do high school again i would have spent a lot more time naked," annie said.

"you look good naked," he said. "no complains here."

"good, i'm not putting clothes on tonight."

"okay," he said.

of course, she was freezing, so annie spent the rest of the day getting high and drinking with a blanket around her shoulders. julia and jim rotated out, but annie's friends claire and jenny came by -- annie put a sweatshirt and panties on for them, but robbie was asleep by then anyway. when she joined him in her bed, she stripped naked again.

[furiousgoldfish]

Hi, general TW for physical abuse, mental/emotional abuse, sexual abuse, mental health topics (just to be safe). Apologies for the length.

(i sent this twice in case the first one didn't go through, I know sometimes long asks disappear in the system. If you got two please ignore this one, thank you for understanding)

This is.. going to be odd but I'm the person that sent the ask about learning how to be more like a typical human after being semi-feral? you asked a few questions and I can answer them, and maybe get some advice too on it as well. Sorry if this is disjointed, I'm in a bad head space right now but I haven't seen your inbox open in a while so I wanted to answer you while I could.

You asked me about how I survived. And honestly it was mostly because I didn't have an alternative. For physical abuse, I developed a high pain tolerance and don't much have the ability to cry or react to pain. I genuinely don't understand why people describe certain things as being painful, I can handle punches, cuts, etc without reacting.

For starvation my body has stopped reacting to hunger. I haven't felt hunger in many many years, and even then it was a rare occurrence. While it's most likely that I have stunted physical growth because of malnutrition, I can go days without eating without feeling any negative side effects. This is similar with water as well. I can go over a day or two without water and still be okay, actually most of my childhood I drank some water in the morning and then didn't drink anything until 5pm.

As for everything else, I wasn't really allowed to express emotions growing up after my birth parents. While my birth mother would sometimes beat me just to see me cry because she thought it was funny, in the foster home I spent the most time in any reaction from me that wasn't positive or praise was considered problematic. (more about the foster home later)



I'll also add that one of the things that kept me alive, ironically, was the thought of how easy it was to die. The first time I tried killing myself was when I was 5, where I had trained the dog I was living with to lay on a pillow wherever it was put. I'd then lay down and get the dog to lay on that, effectively suffocating me. The dog left after attacking a different kid (who tried killing it) and I was removed after.

My entire childhood I planned my own suicide in all sorts of ways. I've tried stealing and taking pills, I used to keep cups of bleach by my bedside to trick myself into drinking it, I tried laying on streets so cars would crush me, all the way to more elaborate plans I won't share. I don't remember when I started self harming, however I always was sneaky about it because I was always under what was called "arm check" watch. So it stuck mostly to things I could get away with.

I, though I don't know why, have an unnaturally high tolerance to medication, drugs, anaesthetics, and alcohol. I need 3 to 4 times the regular dose of medication for it to impact me, I've never been put under anaesthetics because they've never been legally able to give me a high enough dose to knock me out, and though I've been pressured to drink by adults when I was younger I've never gotten drunk, not even when I was a teen and drank a whole 6 pack.

This has stopped me from overdosing many times, because I've reached the point where I've taken enough medication to actually overdose but didn't. Perhaps this is due to overactive survival instincts, perhaps it's a bizarre quirk. Perhaps my birth parents used to drug me and I gained an early life tolerance. But in summary, only the idea that if I were to die it would be under my own terms was what kept me alive. That and spite, and a fear of abandoning any current foster siblings or pets that I protected from foster siblings that tried killing/maiming them.



To answer you about alters, I'm not entirely sure if I have fully formed alters or not? While my dissociation isn't as bad as it was when I was younger (I'd zone out to the point where I was completely gone for hours. No matter what anyone did I wouldn't react at all) and I eventually learned how to at least move and somewhat speak when it happens.

I do have like a co-host? There's two of me inside my head, and majority of my communication in life has been us talking to each other. However I think it's important to mention that when I was 6 there was a shift? I'm unsure how to word it but this is the closest way I can put it: when I was 6 the original person of the body died and left us two behind.

We had completely different interests, reactions to things, thoughts and dreams and everything. It's to the point that I was moved to another foster home because I was no longer the kid the previous foster parents wanted. And it felt like we had to re-learn how everything worked all over again, because I only knew how to survive.

Every few years that "rebirth" cycle happens again, and the two co-hosts seem to shut off for a bit and then turn back on, but when they turn back on we loose sense of "us" and have to relearn a bunch of things. And not just small things, but big things like school concepts, social rules, what is and isn't acceptable to speak about, how to properly move our body, all of that. Everything feels brighter and more real for a week or two after before it goes back to being dull.

But after that we're still like a new duo living in the head and living in this body. We may have different interests and do differently in school, and I have no clue why it happens. If it is all alters, maybe we're stuck in a perpetual loop of being born, barely surviving, and dying over and over again. It's the only way I can keep track of periods of my life, on which 3 or 4 year period certain iterations of us control the body.

I guess this sort of internal cycle also adds to me not feeling like a real person, because I often loose all the person-ness I've gained and have to read-build my illusion of humanness all over again. What comes naturally to me isn't what a human should be like, and it's unsafe for me to ever be me, at the very least until I can someday find a place safe enough to live.



My main reason for learning how to speak, even though it physically hurts me to do so for any length of time, was so I could learn how to beg people not to kill me. As soon as I sensed adult disappointment I would crouch on the ground and cover my head and beg the adult not to kill me, which got me moved from another foster home after the school called the foster parents too many times asking why I did that.

Eventually I learned that doing that would make people more likely to kill me, so my general perspective of the world my entire life has been "everyone in the world belongs on a ranking system of how much power they have over another person. Teachers and parents have the most, while kids older than you will always have more power. I have less ranking than everyone else around me, so any hurt done to me will always be acceptable. If someone kills me it's well within their ranking to do so." I still struggle to not have this outlook, as I'm used to being treated as more of a pet or novelty than a person.

I don't know if that answers your questions, but that's the best I can do. If there's any more questions you have I can try answering them whenever I find your inbox open again.



Here's the more about foster care, and what I have some questions about. I've mentioned this to someone once, and they said it sounded similar to human trafficking? though I consider it normal.

In the one foster home I stayed at, the one I stayed at the longest, was one where every child that went there had a "ranking". For some extra context: every child there was a legal orphan, all through having birth parents so bad they couldn't stay with them.

The ranking system was based on how "adoptable" the child was. For instance, if you did well in school, didn't have attention put on you, stayed quiet and followed chores and "requests" at the foster home, and basically did what you were told you'd keep a good ranking. This also included not reacting to any trauma you have, not mentioning previous parents (foster or birth), and basically being a child that raised themself. HOWEVER it didn't matter what happened at home, just keeping up appearances and not bothering the foster parents.

While at that foster home over the years I had over 8 foster siblings, though only 5 of them stayed for longer than a few months. When I was 6 the boy already living there tried, and likely succeeded at some point, raping me. The only reason why he was ever caught (he was left home alone with me to babysit, despite him being no where near capable of doing so.) was because a new girl (around 8) had moved in and caught him in the act. She had just come from a place where she'd witnessed rape and freaked out enough that they eventually moved the boy.

Even though she saved me then and at times acted like an older sister, she also was... not happy with her life. She tried killing me multiple times, usually through drowning (both when we were left alone and her telling babysitters that I could swim and putting me in situations where I'd nearly drown). She also tried attack me with a knife a few times, however all the cabinets and drawers in the house were locked so it was rare for her to get anything too sharp.

She also had been planning to murder our foster parents and blame me for it, however someone reported her for trying to get a teacher to have sex with her when she was 13 and got sent away. There was another boy that lived there around my age a few years later that also tried killing me multiple times, usually through strangulation, pushing me onto the road, trying to hang me a few times, attacking me with a knife, and in other ways. He was rather sneaky and had been 2 weeks away from being officially adopted by the foster parents before he tried threatening someone on the school bus.

He had threatened people before and had never actually attacked someone at school, but the bus driver had gotten mad enough that he was suspended. Our foster parents only called him "devil child" and terminated the adoption process and sent him away, despite him doing that and worse to me for years at home.

I had a few other foster siblings similar to that, two other ones that showed sexual interest in me. One simply harassed me while the other raped me nightly for years before eventually being sent away because 3 foster kids at once was "too financially difficult" (even though the foster parents were paid to care for all of us, covering school supplies, clothes, and more. The only clothes I got were the clothes of older foster siblings, sometimes even stuff from previous foster kids I'd never met that was kept in garbage bags in the attic).

There's a lot more I could add, like how in that foster home I was often put to work in their construction business, and how the foster mother was grooming me to have a "special" relationship with her, and more, but first I want to talk about the foster home.



So the ranking system was used not only to basically tell us foster kids whether we'd be able to still stay there/not get abandoned again. It was also used to consider how "considerate" our removal would be. If you had a poor ranking you'd get insulted and lose certain privileges, and if it got bad enough the foster parents would refer to the kid as "devil child" (regardless of age).

A "considerate" removal was where a foster kid would be told they'd be removed a few weeks or months in advance, a bad removal was being kicked out suddenly with all the things you were allowed to keep in garbage bags.

Part of the "considerate" removal (and what the person said sounded like "human trafficking") was the videos we had to make. We would make videos about us doing homework, our likes, us doing chores, stuff like that. A sort of general introduction to the kid, and why anyone watching would want to foster/adopt that kid. These videos would show off all the best qualities of a kid, be burned onto a special CD with the kid's legal name on it, and then played to groups of potential foster/adoptive parents.

The foster parents and the potentials would meet in a room and watch the disk, and whoever was interested would stay behind and ask the foster parents more questions. Whoever was the kid that was staying at the foster home the longest would go and act as a sort of "fact checker" of sorts, because "children are worse at lying".

That, after a few years, ended up being me. I've been in many meetings with groups of adults I don't know and asked about how good my foster siblings were, and sometimes even asked which potential foster parents I liked the most, which would get taken into consideration on which potential foster/adoptive parents my foster sibling(s) would go to.



I'll admit to being selfish and not wanting them to leave, even if they had hurt me. It hurt more having to lie about where I was, but it hurt more seeing adults I mildly recognized come to the door and take my foster siblings away. I always tried to get my foster siblings controlled in some way to avoid them having to be removed, which often made them more mad at me and more likely to lash out, but we'd all been abandoned and I didn't want them to be abandoned again. But perhaps they were luckier, because they got to move out.

Those foster parents of that foster home has a copy of every CD made for all the foster kids, though there's a few that didn't get time to make CDs before they were kicked out. It was all through our local child protective services, but I wasn't allowed any internet presence and few photos of me which means there is a possibility that I was kidnapped (or "misplaced") in the system.

Those foster parents were also... not great. It turns out that the foster mother had had her own biological children removed from her decades ago, and they couldn't have biological children of their own. They wanted a child to replace the one they couldn't have, and were cycling through children until they found one easy enough to control (i remind you children all with birth parents abusive enough that we were all declared legal orphans).

I ended up being controllable enough, though that was also because my social worker abandoned me and I had no outside contacts and a panic-attack inducing fear of adults. Eventually they adopted me and changed my name to one of the foster mother's birth child's names. They forbade me from learning anything about my past OTHER than whatever terrible things my birth parents did.

Unless I was physically working for the foster father (construction business he mostly ignored me. By the time I was 7 I was tiling bathroom floors, and by the time I was 9 I had helped (without ladders or any safety measures) put roofing on roofs). He ignores my physical ailments and always changes the topic whenever I mention anything that isn't "positive" or school, so we lack much of an emotional bond. However he also has never hurt me physically, touched me in any way, or purposefully made me cry. He does ignore everything the foster mother did.



The foster mother had wanted a "special" relationship, and I don't know what else to describe it. Once I knew enough language to speak and make up stories she was telling me about her own trauma and the trauma of her self-help-group/clients. (The foster parents didn't want a disabled kid so I was forced to do home schooling over the summers to "make up" for "my defective brain". They weren't trained and it got ugly many many times because of my brain damage and general inhumanness. Due to the treatment of my birth parents I have brain damage that no one ever checked up on.)

I was raised on stories of rape, abuse, murder, and trauma. The only TV I was ever allowed to watch was construction-work related stuff (so I could better help in the business) or shows with murder. The birth mother would pit the other foster kids against me because I got the "special privilege" of being allowed into the foster mother's office (the only time we ever would see her, other than watching tv._

This "special privilege" included her removing her shirts so I could give her back massages (starting when I was 7), and her telling me about her clients/friends. It also included her sharing her delusions in a religious sort of way, and training me to "be more human".

No matter what i did I could never fully please her, because no matter what I do I will never be a real human. I was never allowed therapy and was the closest thing to therapy I've had was those "Special meetings" with the foster mother. And there the core lessons for me was the following:

No matter what I do, I will ALWAYS be worth less than everyone because I am fundamentally inhuman.

Everyone else is always telling the truth compared to me, because I'm fundamentally incapable of experiencing reality.

Everyone plans out their life before they live it. That means that I planned out every single thing that ever happened in my life. That means I wanted every bad thing that happened, and there was no one to blame but me.

That it's not actually that hard to hide a body, and if I try talking to outsiders I'll learn that first hand (this was partially why the foster mother had me watch so many murder and murder mystery shows. It was a reminder of how she could point out all the mistakes the murderers made, AKA how easy it would be for her to kill me and get away with it).

My life is a mistake, something that should have never happened, and if I talked to other people I'd only spread my curse them to be like me.

Never talk about what happens at home. Or your life.



When I was 17 the foster parents moved me to another place in the country where the nearest towns were over an hours drive away and the nearest town with police was 2+hours away. And where the age of adulthood was older than 18, all so I couldn't legally leave them (they have made far far too many stalking, kidnapping, maiming and more threats because they "love me too much to let me go"). And in general keep me as isolated as they could, a thing they've done since I was placed in their care.

There's so much more I could talk about, but this is already far far too long, so I have a few question I hope you could answer?

First, I'd appreciate any reaction or thoughts you could share, I find it helps give me an outside perspective from someone who doesn't think all this to be normal (and therefore more comfortable than the alternative).

Second, would the CDs and method of foster children getting new foster/adoptive parents be considered similar to human trafficking? I really don't think it is, but that comment the person made has stuck with me, and I wanted to get someone else's opinion (it's... not something I can just go and ask someone)/

Third, is it normal for parents (foster, adoptive or otherwise) to want you to raise yourself? I basically was feeding myself (making meals, packing lunches, etc) since I was 7 and helped my foster siblings do so too. I helped do everyone's laundry since I was 6 (my foster siblings and I were so small that just for one basket all three of us would have to grab on and drag it upstairs lol) and have continued to do mine and the foster parents's laundry since. I never got homework help, never did outside activities that would require the foster parents taking me places, I spent all my time in a forest (sometimes camping in it for weekends until I was old enough to be taken seriously if I complained about living conditions (around 13?). etc

Fourth, is it weird that I was required to do so much construction work? I've helped with the demolition and construction of many houses since I was 7-ish, ranging from taking down walls to plumbing to electrical wiring, creating walls, tiling, carpeting, roofing, making decks, etc etc etc. For a few years my bedroom was also used as a tool storage area, with tons of saws, knives, and tools all over the place. The foster mother was well aware of my suicidal tendencies and she would tell me to do it, put my in situations where I could do it, shame me for being "like that", and only cared if it ruined the foster parents' combined reputation.

Fifth, is it wrong for me to be upset at the idea that the only reason why I've ever been considered a wanted child (or wanted in general) is because how my trauma manifested as internal reactions rather than acting out (aka making me more controllable)? I should be happy that I had so many chances at having a family, even if I never stopped feeling like an orphan, right? (sorry, I've been thinking about this a lot for a while. I can't help but feel mad at the friend I have and school peers in the past because they never had to struggle at just the chance for family. They take it for granted. It's unfair.)



Last, does this fall into continued emotional and/or psychological abuse? Compared to my birth parents and other foster parents they seemed amazing to me, however from reading about other people's families I realize that my foster/adoptive parents sound equal or even worse (NOT to make it a competition, I mean "worse" in the sense that I didn't know those things were considered abusive, NOT that other people "have it easy". pain is pain, and no one likes being hurt.)

For instance, for a few months the foster mother was in the hospital and the foster father went to work and then went to the hospital, only coming home to sleep and make sure there was food for us to eat. I thought they were both at the hospital. We had no baby sitters, even though the oldest kid was 8 and the youngest was 5. Or the time that the foster mother threatened to break down my bedroom door and beat me because I was sick and didn't want to go out somewhere that gave me migraines. Or the many times the foster mother would keep insulting and berating me until I cried, but if I ever said anything I was "defending the fact that all I want to do in life is to suffer". Or how much the have laughed at me for trying to explain to them that I need psychological or physical help (the hardest I've ever seen them laugh is when I told them I was suicidal as a kid. They made jokes about me killing myself and how for months after). Or not being allowed water, or having food withheld, or how the foster mother's delusions have grown to the point that for years I've been denied not just the idea that I'm human, but the idea that I'm a living individual.

According to her I'm an extension of herself without autonomy or personhood, no one but her exists, everyone in the world is an illusion, and far far more. Constantly having to not just listen to multiple hour long rants and having to repeat/speak about how right she because she'd remove my access to water or food or online school (this was during the pandemic, which for me was 3 years straight of being in a new place knowing no one and left with 100% of my interaction being her or the foster father. Those years of psychological mind tricks (I have no clue how to explain it, brainwashing is the closest thing but I don't want to say that in case I'm wrong) definitely not done me good.



(That's also ignoring what happened at other foster homes I've lived at. There was a foster father that was... too "loving" towards young children, another who would lock me in a closet if I was in his eyesight too long, and a foster mother that had gotten frustrated at me for only meowing and hissing as I was had been beaten so many times I was afraid to try learning how to speak so she threw me outside to live with the dog. She'd clean me up and say I was telling stories if I said anything about it through my limited language skills, basically just wanted the money).

Apologies for how long this is, I completely understand if it takes you a long time to answer, or if you choose not to answer at all. Thank you for what you do for everyone, and thank you for taking time to answer everyone's stuff. I hope you have a good day and a good life.

Thank you for answering all of the questions and explaining to me how you survived. I appreciate all of the time you spent explaining it, and everything you said makes sense to me. This is going to be a long response as well, so I'll put it under 'read more'.

The way you survived is something I wouldn't even think possible, your entire body has adapted to the point where all of your senses have turned off, almost permanently, in order for life to still be possible. It is scary to know that this can even happen, and I hope dearly that this doesn't mess up your health (and I want to say, quality of life, but, uh.) I am sorry the lack of nutrition stumped your physical growth.

While your endurance over pain, hunger, and resistance to medicine might seem impressive, it is a sign of how harsh and dangerous your environment was, and how far you had to adapt in order to survive. It's understandable that it's very hard for you to relate to other people, when you're adapted for much different circumstances of life.

It's also incredible you managed to survive at all, and it makes sense you were always look for a way out, it would not have been possible to survive what you did, without hoping that you could end it. It is devastating what you felt compelled to do, but I'm going to try and stay collected to answer this, because I don't feel like you're looking for a display of emotions.

What you describe as co-hosts in your head, that definitely sounds like alters, but I've never heard of a case like yours, where they're shutting off, dying, and then regenerating and re-learning everything, in order to survive. Again, it makes sense with your living circumstances, that it has to be like that, anyone would burn out and shut off in any way possible, and you have to go thru that cylce in order to keep being alive. Still, I'm very sorry that you have to suffer thru this, and struggle to keep any personality you develop. It sounds like your personality forming was shattered into pieces, and it might take a long time to start recovering it, if it's even possible (I'm not smart about this, I really can't say.)

It would make sense that it stops you from feeling like a person though. I doubt there's a lot of people you can relate to, or even talk about this.

I said I would stay collected writing this, but when I read that you learned to speak only to beg people not to kill you, that felt like a physical blow. I had to close my laptop and take a few minutes. That proves unimaginable cruelty and life danger from humans that you had to endure, and your instincts had to over-write everything, even pain, in order to give you a slight chance of survival, and I know that this type of danger erases everything, your personality and sense of self, until there's nothing but pure survival instinct and it takes over.

People who called the foster parents asking why you did that, likely also understood what kind of cruelty trauma this implied.

The ranking system you described, it makes sense. It's not supposed to be like this. In a humane world, we do not have a ranking system, we are, in theory, supposed to all be equal, and none of us is supposed to do harm to another, thats the theory that society's foundations are set on. There are laws protecting it, or at least in theory, there are laws protecting people from the greatest harm. However, what you experienced from society was not like that. A lot of society is not like that. There are people who are intent on building a hierarchy everywhere, and they do feel entitled to do harm to anyone they set on a lower level. It happens in systems of corporations, education, economy, government, family, any system where there are people with authority over other people. And you have experienced the absolute worst of the worst of it. So you had to pick up their rules, the rules of those who need this hierarchy in order to get away with hurting others, who feel entitled to it and constantly need victims. Me and most other people are disgusted by it, and a lot of people want to believe that people in authority would not abuse the authority to cause harm, but by vast majority, they do.

The reason why this hierarchy is so prevalent among children, is that children are always the most vulnerable demographic, being small, defenseless, and in complete power and dependency of others. So they are the ones who get hurt first from the hierarchy system, who are most likely to fall victims – and not only that, but children will mimic whatever behaviour is presented to them, so they will mimic the hierarchy as well, and continue building it among themselves. This also means that the bigger, more aggressive and opportunistic children, will abuse smaller, more scared, more vulnerable, and more sensitive non-violent children. It is not how things are supposed to work, all children are supposed to be protected and safe from abuse. But you have lived the reality of it, and you know how the system works. Anyone who wants to do harm, will pick someone who can't fight back, and who will not be believed, and they can do to this individual whatever they want to, leaving this person with trauma to recover for ages. This isn't right, it's not humane, normal, or compatible with human life, it's an evil hierarchy that not all humans subscribe to. But it is, in the systems that people with power abuse, extremely common. And utterly devastating to live thru, as someone with no power over anyone else.

And I know that the rule 'anyone who kills you is well within their ranking to do so' feels incredibly true (I've felt this in my family as well), but it is not. Nobody's ranking gives them an authority to end your life, or to take it from you. Nothing can grant people the right to do this. What they're doing is getting away with it, when they shouldn't, and they have no right. This is people acting out of their right, out of what is normal, allowed, or humane. I know it doesn't sound real when so, so many people have done this to you, have tried to kill you, and acted like it was the most normal thing imaginable. But all of this was wrong. I'm sorry if what I'm writing right now is painful, I'm not sure how much I can say without making it worse – if something I said feels bad, feel free to disregard it completely.

*

I think the ranking you describe in your foster care is built in an inhumane way. Rewarding children for being extremely convenient, hiding trauma, hiding emotions, obeying and doing work, and punishing them for any actual normal child behaviour, like being openly traumatized, in pain, defiant, acting out, that's not done in child's benefit. Children deserve better than to be suppressed and play pretense in hopes that someone will some day find them worthy of love. It also invites foster parents who only care about 'keeping appearances' and nothing else to benefit from this system. I want to believe there are foster parents who'd want to help a child recover and live a happy life, and not just to have a convenient person who obeys them in the house.

I am so sorry about the amount of sexual violence, murder attempts, and abuse you had suffered in your foster home. I can see you're writing about it as if it's nothing, so I can assume this was very normal and common for you, and not something devastating and life-damaging (you've been thru worse at that point, so it's no surprise that this doesn't come to you as a huge deal). I'm glad you noticed that it is incredibly hypocritical of the foster parents to send that boy away for threatening someone at the bus, when he'd been doing way worse to you for ages – it had only mattered to the parents when someone else was involved, while you were treated as if your experience didn't matter, and he was again, allowed to do anything. This is wrong, and he should have been sent away for hurting you right away.

I can also kind-of, understand that you bonded strongly with your foster siblings, even if they were hurting you or trying to kill you. Your sense of bonding at this point is so strong, because your survival within the community depends on you having someone on your side, at least a little, at least sometimes. And murder attempts are so common for you, it doesn't seem like a deal breaker, what you needed was someone to make life a little more livable, and despite all the harm, your foster siblings still were that for you. So you didn't want them to go away. That is human and normal. We humans will pick abuse and harm over being completely neglected, alone and isolated. I think your reaction was completely understandable.

It is terrifying to find out that foster homes have removals of kids in such brutal and punishing manner. This is cruelty to children, and I didn't know how horrid the reality of it was. I am so sorry that you were forced to live in such a place.  

About the human trafficking claim, the thing is that the ranking system they had for you, and the videos, do sound extremely oppressive and messed up, almost like they were training you to be obedient and then creating a catalogue for potential 'owners' to watch. It doesn't sound like something loving parents would want to do when picking out a kid, they'd want to spend time with the kid, get to know them personally, not hear about 'qualities' and watch a video that proves obedience. Coupled with the fact that after you were adopted, you were forced to work from the age of 7, and construction work as well, makes it sounds extremely like human trafficking to me. I mean, it's not a 100%, because I assume even in these circumstances, it's possible for a kid to get adopted without necessarily being put to work for no wage (which is human trafficking, being put in a position where you're forced to work to survive, often in bad conditions and without money, or benefits, you only get your life), but the situation they set up sounds like it was made specifically to attract traffickers – in this case, people who wanted a child laborer, with a promise that the kid would be extremely well behaved, obedient, and would do any work required of them. While for complete diagnosis of human trafficking, the foster home would have to take money from the parents in order to take the kids – and I don't know if this is the case or not, I'm not knowledgeable about how foster systems work, it's possible that the money exchange is secretly taking place, or that the person who set it up this way did it on purpose, and is financially benefitting from kids being given to those who are most likely to use them for free child labour. So what I think is that it definitely does cause human trafficking. It created the perfect setup for it and it attracts people who can pick out who they want for free labour. If anyone reading this knows more about it, or could give a better analysis of this, please do. It does look like trafficking to me. Not even necessarily because of the CD's, more because of the obedience training and hierarchy, but the CD's sound so cold and alarming and not like something genuine adoptive parents would want to experience.

It's alarming to know that your foster parents changed your name, modifying your entire identity, and forbade you from learning a lot about your past. It sounds like they were set on controlling who you are allowed to be, and who they are in the story (it's probable they were trying to build a story of saving you, from your horrible birth parents, they would surely look good in comparison no matter what they did, given how extremely you were abused in the past.)

The fact that you worked construction, without any safety measures, without protection or any regulations or rewards, proves that this labour was extracted from you in return for your life, which is trafficking. Even your physical illnesses and pains were ignored. This is something that would be brutal even to an adult to endure, and is generally considered a cruel and unsurvivable thing to go thru. I can tell that after your past, a person who doesn't physically hurt you or make you cry is a big improvement and gave you a sense of physical safety, even if you were required to constantly offer labour in return for life, at least it wasn't pain, damage, life threats and murder attempts, so it makes perfect sense that this just felt, a little off! It's extremely common for victims of abuse, to continue going thru life while suffering some lesser amounts of abuse and thinking it was nothing, or it's no big deal, because we're so used to horrid treatment, anything better than the worst seems like a walk in the park, and we're just grateful that things aren't worse for us. So your reaction to it is completely logical. It's only in the context of looking at it from the eyes of a not-abused person, that it looks pretty horrifying, having to work construction as a child, with a person who fails to have any bond with you, while having effectively no caretakers, nobody to emotionally rely on, all while just being grateful things aren't worse.

Your foster mother was parentifying you, meaning she wanted you to take care of her, instead of it being the reverse. It's disturbing that they called your brain 'defective', because it's anything but that, your brain is one of the most brilliant masters of survival, you should be given a lot of credit for going thru all of what you did, and ending up this intelligent, coherent, communicative, clear and understanding. I understand you had to become this way out of necessity and because you had no other choice, but I believe you should still be given credit that you did all that, despite how little you had to work with.

It's also disturbing they only allowed you to watch construction and murder, it's like they wanted your entire world to be reduced to working, and knowing that you can be killed at any minute, it's almost like a threat and a blackmail in order to keep you obedient and working at all times – not that they needed to, you were already in so much terror it was unlikely you would disobey.

The 'special privilege' your mother was claiming to give you was really just parentification, possibly emotional incest (asking massages and expecting you to emotionally cater to her needs). It's very likely that she could be narcissistic. The core lessons she taught you were so dehumanizing and put you in a position where you could only have worth as much as you can be of use to her – which is how narcissist view others. This is not normal or common. You were human the entire time, more human than she was.

You are more than capable of experiencing and effectively describing reality, the way you described it here to me is both eloquent and easy to understand, regardless of how horrifying and dark your reality is. You are good at expressing what happened, and at analyzing it as well. So why would she set rules that would blame you for everything bad that ever happened to you, when you had absolutely no control over it? In order to be able to do more bad things to you, and never be held accountable. She also wanted to keep you silent from ever telling on her (if you talk to others you'll spread the curse) and if you are inconvenient or troublesome we can kill you (it's not hard to hide a body). I feel like you already understand that all of the rules are only self-serving for her, and made so that again, she'd have so much power over you, she could get away with anything.

But in reality, all of those core values are bullshit, and only a cruel, inhumane and evil person could ever impose that on a child (or any other person, really).

I know it can feel devastating that even after all that abuse, you ended up in another threatening, dangerous and exploitative situation, but again, this is pretty common for victims of heavy abuse, that we often find ourselves in some other version of abuse, and usually we go bit by bit until we reach a healthier stage. You can move on from this and find a better environment that will value your humanity in a real way. You were never anything other than human, but you were put in a lot of situations that made it hard for you to feel that, or rather, too painful to feel it. It's easier on the heart to believe you do deserve all this, and that you are to blame, rather than to think that you were a helpless, blameless kid subjected to cruelty for no other reason than someone wanted it, and could get away with it.

To answer your questions:

Even though your life is so dark, I find myself relating to the parts of the story, which scares me, but also gives me hope that you can find a way to freedom, even with a situation this dire. I can tell that you're calm and collected thru it all, which I admire, but it also makes me think you are completely numb and dissociated from the pain you're experiencing, so that you could talk coherently and calmly. However, you're asking for an outside perspective of someone who doesn't think it's all normal – while I don't think it's normal at all, I might not be the best outside perspective, since I'm also viewing it from the lens of abuse. I think true outside perspective would be to be completely and utterly horrified, shocked, devastated and shaken by everything you've been thru, which I do feel as well, but I'm not going to be of much help if I give in to feelings.

The CD's themselves, I don't think are a proof of trafficking, though they are weird, cold, and combined with everything else, do play a part in enabling the trafficking. It is good to ask questions, there are people who know and understand far more about human trafficking, and you should keep asking, and pointing out what feels off to you. You did end up in a situation where two people with absolutely no desire to care for a child, have gotten a child who was sure to obey their orders, work for them for free, take care of one of them emotionally, and endure dehumanizing and threatening environment. This is a form of trafficking – and I should say, trafficking doesn't always feel like you're trafficked. It feels like 'this is just what life is and I should be grateful that it's not worse, because I know worse, I could be dying on the street right now, but if I do this I'll be allowed to live'. And I believe that you are in this situation, and it's not your fault, and there's not much you can do about it immediately.

I don't think its normal for any kind of parents to expect you to raise yourself. That is just severe neglect and parentification (expecting the child to act the role of a parent or a caretaker). You should have had meals and clothes provided to you, you should have had actual care and gentleness and opportunity to talk about what happened to you and what is bothering you. And you should have never been give to people who would mess you up even further, do damage to your brain, threaten you or try to convince you that you're not human. You should have gotten help with homework and everything else. You shouldn't have been put in a situation where you're responsible for the care of very young children when you were 6. You should have been taken places and given happy experiences. You should have been given good living conditions and peace of mind. You should have been told that you're a good child, that you're doing well, and that everyone wants you around and is proud of you.

I'm curious about the forest, because I love the forest, does it feel safe for you to be in the nature? I want to be in the forest forever.

4. And your fourth question about the construction work – no, thats trafficking. Your room should not have been used as a storage either. You were used as a free worker and a servant, and not treated as a child there to be cared for and healed from sever trauma. Also your foster mother pushing you to suicide, thats hateful and gross. It should have never happened.

5. It's not wrong for you to be upset. You were wanted as a free worker because they realized it would be easy to threaten you into obedience, and that you're way too scared of adults to ever disobey, or complain about anything. Your trauma put you in a situation where you would once again, be exploited. It's also normal for you to still feel like an orphan, since none of your parents did any caretaking, or took the role of actually parenting you at any point, they did not build a bond with you, they only kept using you, and you had no idea of knowing that this wasn't normal, or that it was neglect and abuse. It's normal to be mad at other people who take their families for granted, when it's something you sacrificed everything for. It really is not fair.

6. You did well to figure out that your foster parenting experience is not normal, that could not have been easy. Compared to your birth parents, I believe, anyone would seem amazing. Just less violence and less murder threats is amazing compared to constant attempts and constant violence. The only way you could have judged them is by comparison, and your birth parents were off the charts, most cruel and vicious beings imaginable. And I appreciate you pointing out that you're not making a competition out of it, it's true, we're not making a competition, but we can say one type of abuse is more life threatening than the other, and that different abuse brings out different kinds of feelings and consequences, and that some types of sever abuse, make other types seem invisible, harmless, no big deal, or even amazing.

What you describe about your mother saying 'all you want to do in life is suffer' and laughing at you for needing psychological and physical help, even when you're suicidal, is once again, hateful and cruel behaviour, and nobody should have done this to you. Accusing you of 'wanting your suffering' is insane. Laughing at a suicidal kid is inhumane. That is not funny, to normal humans it's devastating.

Your mother treating you as an extension of herself sounds a lot like she's trying to achieve enmeshment and engulfed relationship, like what narcissistic mothers do, because she wants you to be bonded to her, but in a way that you care for her, while she doesn't care for you. This isn't fair, and it's not normal. You are not an extension of anyone, you are yourself, and you have the right to do things that benefit you, and only you, and it does not make you selfish. You also have the right to refuse the things that hurt you, and everyone should respect that. Removing access from food, water or online school, is violation of your human rights, and not a punishment that is normal, or legal to use. I am so sorry you were alone with them and brainwashed for so long. I feel that you are so incredibly intelligent that you will see thru it, and I'm sure you're right to say it. Being isolated with people who see nothing human in you, would brainwash anyone.

Again, I am so sorry for what everyone have put you thru, they had no right. The other events you're describing are also horrifying and sound too painful to bear. You were treated worse than people treat animals, and they could have not do any of this to you, and they would have been just fine. It was their choices to do this.

Thank you for reaching out and for answering my questions, I knew it was selfish of me to ask, but I'm glad you got back to me and responded. I hope my answer helps you a bit, and you can keep talking to me if you want to. I'll try to open my inbox sooner this time.

[criminallyvenomous]

Fighting Leads To Fxxking

Masterlist

Chapter Eleven - You're On Your Own, Kid

Word Count - 1,113

Tw - Alcoholism, Mention of Drugs, Fighting, Drunkenness

Plot - Stark! Reader get stuck watching Loki after the events of 2012. Moments of weakness and bad decisions involving the world's most hated man lead to the worst possible outcome, pregnancy.

"I know, Mom. I just can't believe I was so stupid. Of course he would recognize me."

"It's not your fault. Can you just come home?"

"Has he drank today?"

"He hasn't put a bottle down since you left."

"Then I can't come home. I'm sorry." You hung up the phone as you inserted the key into Natasha's door, Thor following behind you with his arms full of bags.

"Are you okay?" He asked as you hunted through Nat's kitchen, looking for something to fulfill your craving.

"My dad saw a photo of us in the news and he thinks you're the father," You explain, grabbing a box of saltine crackers, "Does she really only order in?" You mumble.

"Isn't that what you wished for? To keep my chaos-filled brother in the dark?" You offered a sleeve of crackers and he raised a brow before opening it.

"I guess, I just didn't want it to happen outside of my terms."

"Completely understandable. I apologize for drawing attention in the city." He tried a saltine and smiled a bit at the taste.

"It's not your fault, Thor. You were being a good Uncle." You ate another cracker.

"It was my intention to care for you and it turned out to harm you."

"It's still better than him finding out it's really your brother." You shrugged. He had finished the entire sleeve of crackers and you chuckled at his speed.

"Oddly tasty for a Migardian cuisine." He smiled.

"What do you normally eat for a snack on Asgard?"

"A lot of grapes really." You laughed with him.

You showed Thor different shows and he was fascinated by the American taste in humor.

"What is this one called? I am rather fond of the foolishness."

"Catfish. It came out this year. I can't stop watching. People are stupid." You laughed.

He couldn't keep his eyes off the screen, constantly asking questions in order to understand the slang and behaviors. A knock on the door interrupted you both. You tried to ignore it but it persisted, followed by a voice.

"I know you're in there, Y/N!" It was your father.

You paused the TV and exchanged looks with Thor, careful to not make a sound.

"I heard the TV." He pounded. He was slurring his words, drunk as a skunk.

"I will answer, Sister. Go into the bedroom and don't come out until he's calmed down." Thor told you and you listened, making a b-line to the bedroom. You were apprehensive, but you trusted Thor. He had centuries of de-escalation training.

"Open this fucking door, right now." Tony yelled.

"Hello, Stark." Thor answered, opening the door, taken aback by his disheveled appearance.

"You must have some fucking nerve." Tony growled as he entered.

"Must we argue? Can we simply have a civil discussion? We aren't enemies, there is no need to brawl." Thor reasoned.

"I don't think so, you fucked my daughter, Pointbreak." Tony stumbled, Thor leaned in to steady him.

"How much liquor have you ingested, Stark?"

"None of your business."

"Did you drive here?"

"Stop asking me these stupid ass questions." He sighed, shaking his head.

"No, I wont, I care for you. No matter your thoughts about me, I think of you as family, and soon we will be." Thor tried to extend an olive branch.

"That's it." Your father puncher Thor in the gut.

"Dad, stop!" You entered, yelling.

"No, you don't get a say. He took advantage of you, knocked you up, and left the fucking planet. I get to kick his ass." You moved in between your father and your pretend-lover. Thor was still clenching his stomach. He may have been a god, but he wasn't ready for that.

"Move." He yelled, trying to find you.

"Stop! You're drunk, dad. Think about this, do you really want to lose me and mom again?" You felt a tear fall and you were quick to wipe it, hoping your father was too inebriated to notice.

"I don't know what I want." He retorted, seemingly noticing the pain he's caused, to you emotionally and to Thor physically.

"You always talk about how you missed out on the first years of my life, do you really want to miss all of your granddaughters?" You couldn't hide your emotions anymore. You were becoming undone. Thor stepped forward and placed his hand on your shoulder and you looked behind to see him staring at you, desperately trying to make sure you were okay.

"Don't you dare threaten me." He pointed his finger.

"I think it might be best to table this conversation for when you aren't intoxicated, Tony." Thor tried once more to reason.

"You don't know what's best for me, or her." His face was turning red, you didn't know if it was from the alcohol or his mood.

"All I want is to be there for your daughter, to show her that she is loved in this trying time. I want to be there for her child, to be by her side as she grows up." He smiles at you. You gave him a teary but heartfelt grin.

"Dad, I'm gonna call Uncle Rhodey to pick you up. I can't talk with you when you're like this." You pulled out your phone and stepped away to call your uncle, he had always been there for you and Pepper when it came to the downfall of your father.

"Stark, let me get you a water." Thor walked and grabbed a bottle from the fridge and handed it to him.

He was overwhelmed with emotions and he was too drunk to understand any of them. He hated you right now, but he loved you too much to lose you. So, he took the water and looked for his phone in his jacket, he just wanted to call Pepper. He wanted to apologize for what he had said to her when he saw the press. He felt remorseful. He wanted so desperately to make this work, he just didn't know how.

Something fell from his jacket as he pulled out his phone.

"You dropped something," Thor picked up the item and looked at it closer, "Wait, what is this?" He asked, now holding the bag of white powder.

"None of your business." Tony grabbed it as fast as he could, but not fast enough for you to not see it as you reentered the vicinity.

"Are you kidding me? You're using again?" You finally broke. You weren't feeling sorrow anymore, just pure anger.

"No, I swear I haven't used, I just- I keep it with me, as a reminder."

"Get the fuck out."

im trying my best to write the next chapter so u guys dont have to wait too long. i started posting this with eight chapters pre-written, so now we're all caught up with my work. i hope u guys are liking the story! pls leave comments as it makes my day. don't choke my little guttersluts - kat.

[tired-fandom-ndn]

“…fundamentalist Christian bullshit about how pleasure is addictive in general”

Do you have any resources on this? Asking because the limited information I had on addiction (mainly from 12-Step/XA groups) lead me to believe that intense euphoria was a sign of addiction (which I know now isn’t true but I’m wondering if there’s information on why that belief exists).

I'm not the best person to be giving links to papers or going deep into the history of this sort of thing, I'd really recommend looking into addiction advocacy and sex education organizations for that sort of thing, but I can ramble a bit about the generals.

So the thing about pleasure being addictive in itself is in fact very much fundamentalist Christian bullshit. Specifically, it's from the idea that pleasure is sinful and that suffering is holy; pleasure is a trick from the devil to make you turn from the holiness of Christ and God and lose your devotion in favor of false and temporary earthly pleasures.

So much of what we "know" about addiction is based in Christian fundamentalism because it was the churches and Christian politicians who funded so much of Western science. It's only been fairly recently that we've realized how much damage that's done to our understanding of ourselves, each other, and our world. Addiction and prisons are some of the biggest examples of this, especially in terms of how we view the concepts of pleasure and suffering.

If pleasure itself was addictive, then we'd be able to get addicted to anything even slightly enjoyable. We'd get addicted to good food (fun fact, sugar addiction is also a myth!), petting cats, listening to music, making art, reading books, pressing flowers, whatever your hobby is. Everyone in the world would be constantly suffering from withdrawal over something that they currently aren't able to partake in.

With our increased understanding of how addiction actually forms, we're now aware that it's not about pleasure. Addiction doesn't exist in a vacuum of brain chemicals, it's the result of social and environmental factors. People form addictions because it's a way to cope with things going on in their lives, internally but mainly externally. Poverty, abuse, neglect, intergenerational trauma, bigotry, etc are all things that addiction is directly linked to.

And addiction itself isn't just about the immediate pleasure, it's also a physical thing. Addiction comes with consequences when it's not "indulged"; that's what withdrawal is, the body being denied something that it's formed a severe and often unhealthy dependence on. That isn't always a bad thing, people can and do become addicted to vital medications that they need to survive. But withdrawal involves physical and mental ramifications, the body trying to compensate for the loss of something it's started to see as necessary.

Addictions that don't have a direct chemical impact on your body, like gambling which just causes a dopamine spike and drop, are almost always directly linked to mental illnesses like personality disorders and OCD and people with chemical addictions, to things like drugs and alcohol, are far more likely to also develop addictions to things like gambling. It's a coping mechanism.

Porn and sex addiction are things that were seen as just facts of life even when there was no evidence that they actually existed, solely because our puritan and Christian society considers sex to be something inherently dirty, unhealthy, and dangerous. Porn addiction is now mostly seen as something that people only self-identify with because they think their porn habits are unhealthy with no real evidence of that, while sex addiction is redefined as hypersexuality.

This ramble was all over the place and I apologize for that. I hope it's still coherent enough to understand lmao

[colorcodedbeanies]

S2E2-"Grilled"

Long pause between updates there. I've backlogged a bunch of episode notes that I'll hopefully be releasing in batches.

TW: Racism, elder abuse, ableism

Ok so I took these notes a few days ago and the first thing that greets me is "car looks like its fucking the sand", with the sub point "put that in the post". I hope this provides insight into the rigorous intellectual process I work with.

The cop scene is basically an endless series of hits, enough that its difficult to not just transcribe it fully. Tuco's head is mounted on a shooting target by Hank, who talks floridly about interrogating his meth-hag girlfriend and then does a whole routine about apologizing to hr for using the word "hard-on" in the presence of ladies, which is frankly only further fuel to the fire in terms of eroticism literally being criminal in Breaking Bad. He comments on Mexico, saying to general agreement "We all know what's going on down there. We sure as hell don't want it going on up here." which is just. Very interesting considering next episode is going to open with two men illegally crossing the border. Finally, when Gomez asks him if he really thinks they'll track him down, he laughs it off, commenting that its about "keeping up appearances". If he's implying that most of the DEA's work is about the appearance of stopping bad guys and saving good guys....well! He said it not me.

Skyler is hesitant about describing Walter as depressed, especially in front of his son. Even in front of the guy who (theoretically) is trying to find him and needs information, saving the face of the middle class white patriarch takes precedence. She softens it to simple stress. This is echoed again later when Marie blurts out Hank's knowledge about the second cellphone. Sure, Hank is very possibly trying not to add more emotional strain onto his sister-in-law. But he's also denying her information (and in his mind, possibly even covering for Walt's affair). They may be more comfortable possibly letting him die than they are ruining his image as a good family man.

I didn't expect to emerge out of this as a WaltTuco truther but literally what am I meant to take from Walt momentarily imagining Tuco as Skyler appearing to him and telling him that she understands.

The yard is littered with a lot of broken toys. While I'm not super thrilled with the way this visually suggests Hector as another "broken" thing in the house, I do think it lends itself into an understanding of Tuco as ultimately, a bit of an overgrown child. I don't say that to be infantilizing. Trauma, especially as a child, can freeze up your mental development a little bit. Tuco tends to approach his circumstances with a very simply and childlike logic. His paranoia (tragically unable to ever catch the actual threats) is his special powers, his visions of the future. While talking about No-Doze and Gonzo he's clearly seeking out some absolution, insisting "I was good to him! I was good!". None of this, of course, makes Tuco any less dangerous or unstable. But he's a lot more vulnerable than Walt (or arguably, the audience) gives him credit for. He takes personal betrayals of his love aso wildly personally, and seeks escape in drugs when he fails to threaten people into staying loyal to him.

So there's a clear disability horror going on with Hector. The first level of that is inherently ableism, implying that there's something unsettling about being in the proximity of someone with an atypical body and atypical means of expression. The second level (and I believe the unintentional one) is the horror movie happening inside Hector's own perspective, seeing a threat to someone who you, in your own fucked up way, love, and being unable to effectively communicate about it because Tuco is not intuitive with how he approaches Hector's communication needs. Regardless I think it is important that treating Hector like an object fucks over everyone, Walt, Jesse, Tuco, and Hank in the next episode.

Speaking of ableism, though, in a rare Jesse L he does briefly position his life as inherently more valuable than Walt's, because Walt's going to be dead soon anyways. Notably Walt does advocate for his life in a way that he did not when chemo was on the table. Still, Jesse, there are so many better reasons Walt should kill himself for your sake.

At this point I don't even need to do analysis, I can just tell you Skyler says "Marie, you don't get hooked on pot like that" and you can put the pieces together yourself. Post-War on Drugs American normalcy challenge Any% never passed never succeeded.

So I'm not going to quibble with Walt and Jesse trying to kill Tuco, or even (for once) Hank succeeding. The guy was an active threat to all parties involved and his life is taken in self-defense. But I want to highlight this line in particular: "We tried to poison you. Because you're an insane, degenerate piece of filth, and you deserve to die." Given how Walt's historically used the term I think its fair to read "degenerate" as interchangeable with "junkie". So of all the reasons Walt has decided to highlight that Tuco might need to die here....the ones he highlights are "junkie" and "mentally ill".

Jesse kicks Tuco into a hole hope this doesn't foreshadow anything in his future.

[gemsofthegalaxy]

this is just my own personal reaction to the post i reblogged earlier about how it's acceptable to sub-post but not to dom-post

i definitely HAVE seen textposts from the perspective of both doms and subs, clearly fantasy fiction but both have the capacity to squick me, personally, not just dom-leaning ones.

For example, if i see a sub saying "i want someone to drug me up and use me however they want" im like whoa lol... okay... cannot relate but the post is Not About Me, i just scroll past. (i have nearly verbatim seen this post)

if i see a dom saying "you're gonna drink what i tell you to drink and then i'm gonna use you" i'm going to have basically the same reaction. because drug-related scenes are Not My Thing, I am not against it conceptually (i do think this type of play needs to be treated seriously with safeguards in place when done irl) but seeing as I have 0 interest in, it's not something i'm into, I am sort of like "oh god" and then scroll past.

And maybe it's because i've only gotten one foot in the door with BDSM anyway, i'm not involved deeply in the community here on tumblr, the history of BDSM is vast and hard to track, and the scene in real life around me isn't super strong. I've, in my short time, received tons of mixed messages from people in different areas of the community honestly.

i find it hard to make any sort of judgments on what "the BDSM community" contends with at large, because it's filled with tons of basically anonymous voices saying things, some of which directly contradict each other. ever since i started trying to educate myself more this is my experience.

so on that.... i just think maybe the social acceptability of saying "subby" things is still not that high? i've definitely seen folks on tumblr claim that people making certain sub fantasy posts are feeding into what is essentially rape apologism because they give people the wrong idea about consent. it might be relatively socially acceptable to say "step on me mommy" in a memey way in the mainstream, but i've seen tons of people criticisming others for doing this and saying they need to cut that shit out- and for what it's worth, putting something like that Unsolicited on someone else's photo is Not a cool thing to do generally. only with permission should people be making those sort of comments.

it might be relatively socially acceptable in certain circles on tumblr to say things like "i just want someone to drug me up and use me" but i'm also sure if this broke containment people would be put off. Doms should be able to express their desires in just as theoretical way, I believe people when they say at the very least that there are LESS posts of that nature from dominant people.

but I also, lastly, at the same time, don't think it's that strange for some Doms to have guilt or weird feelings around their desire to "hurt" their loved ones or individuals they care about even when they both want it. it IS an interesting, perhaps 'odd' impulse from either side of things- to want to mesh pleasure and pain. maybe on average more subs have dealt with that and reconciled it. I, as a bottom but not quite true 'submissive', personally sure the fuck haven't. As a recovering catholic, I feel guilty about any and all desires half the time, 'odd' or not.

i don't think Doms should sit or wallow in that guilt, ideally, I think, they'd work on aftercare (or beforecare, during care, etc) with their play partner(s) to help come to terms with the fact their desires are not inherently bad. but nobody, sub, Dom, etc. can just instantly absolve themselves of that. surely, with a community of people around you, it may come easier or faster, but I think ultimately most of us will have to continuously reconcile with the guilt and shame tied up in any and all side of the sexual equation.

[verdantmeadows]

7, 13, 24?

7. what animal do you look forward to seeing when you visit an aquarium?

I just answered this but since I said sea otters and most aquariums Don't have those, I really love getting to see the jellyfish, any sharks, rays, anemones, and touch pool stuff. AND SEALS AND SEA LIONS AND OTHER PINNIPEDS! But also just everything in general really

13. first thing you’re doing in the purge?

Hmmmmmm. Okay so personally I don't think I'd murder anyone because I'm against it morally, I can't stomach it, also I don't think I physically could. Tbh I believe in the best of people and I don't think most people are gonna do heinous shit. So I'd probably just focus on self defense/protection and stay home. I'd hoard a bunch of stuff like downloads of movies and games. I'd try a safer illegal drug maybe? But honestly I think the real danger is that everyone will suspect that other people will do bad stuff, so they do bad stuff (this is just like Danganronpa)

But I really can't imagine myself doing that much. Hopefully motivate other people to take political action towards things that are maybe not always legal?

24. which do you find yourself using, american or british english?

USAmerican English since I am USAmerican! I've lived here my whole life and never left. But for some reason I use British spelling for a lot of random words. Like, I write grey and not gray and archaeology and not archeology. I also sometimes use British or European terms for things that I've picked up on from friends or learned before I learned the US version. A lot of how I write and talk has weird influences because I learned things from books and television rather than other people. But I definitely have distinct vocabulary and ways of speaking that place me to very specific places in the USA. I think the only British-ism I refuse to do is use "realise" and "apologise" or any other -s word like that rather than "realize" or "apologize". This is because I say it with enough of a z sound that I think I should write it.

[i-got-too-many-links]

White owner Biddy no no there's no weath if you're going back anybody will ever again and keep on being bothered real over Dante right you want to go that's a big rise maybe not you're what you're doing you're the brain cells go gave you and start it all over again

Jesus gives him buzz a procrat thing we know☆ WELCOME TO MY PAGE ☆I'm not very good in speaking English, so I apologize for the errors.☆ About me ☆WIA | Вилка | Вивка20 year old || Female || RussiaPatreon my PATREON Patreon

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What the fresh Jesus fuck is this

Are you trolling me?