#I've been really fucking scarred by TWO religions

[andiv3r]

So. I need to make a whole post about lots of things but I've decided that dermatillomania is one of them. Cw for blood and lots of skin-picking stuff below.

Story time. I remember in eighth grade, my religion teacher pulled me out into the halls to talk to me, and my first thought was, "Oh shit, another one," because the previous religion teacher had put me through hell and back for being queer (which was information I had not even shared with her). I braced to have an awkward conversation about my love life and gender identity for the second time in two years. Instead, she pointed at my arm.

"What's that?" She asked. I glanced down at my arms, covered in scabs, red and radiating heat from where I'd been picking for hours. "Your skin, I mean. Why is it... like that?"

Oh. Right. She was new. She didn't know.

"Genetic skin condition." I replied. "It's not really that bad on its own, but I pick at it whenever I'm nervous or upset or sad or bored or... just kind of whenever." She opened her mouth and I interrupted before she could say it. "I've tried to stop, and I've tried wearing long sleeves, and I've tried medicine, and I keep my nails short, but it doesn't help, so... yeah. Don't worry about it. It's not contagious or anything, it's genetic."

Her face scrunched into a frown, but she didn't say anything else and told me to return to my English class. I did.

Later that day, I had to go to Science class. The worst of them, at least in terms of places I picked at my arms. The teacher was nice enough, but I fucking hated science as a class. So, while everyone else was taking notes, I ran my hand along my arms. They were warm. Wet in some places, from the blood that had pooled around some bumps. But most of all, they were so... bumpy. So easy to just... pinch. Squeeze. Scratch.

I walked out of Science class that day with my left arm covered in bloody spots. Shit. My mom was gonna kill me.

No.

Don't think about her.

Don't do it, or else you'll get nervous, and when you get nervous you-

Too late. The fingers that had been rhythmically tapping my desk in Pre-Algebra were now tracing my jawline, searching for...

Ah. There.

Pinch. Squeeze. Scratch. Move my fingers up a bit to my cheek. Pinch. Squeeze. Scratch. Move. Pinch. Squeeze. Scratch. Move. Pinch. Squeeze. Scratch. Move, pinch, squeeze, scratch, move, pinch, squeeze, sc-

"[deadname], your face is bleeding!" I jerked my hands away from my face and stared down at my fingers, their tips stained crimson. So it was.

"Ah. Yeah. D'you have a kleenex?" I replied to the alarmed blond beside me.

"Uh... yeah." He passed one over with a frown. He knew about my skin-picking, so I'm not sure why he was so surprised. Maybe it was the blood. I licked my fingers, wetting them so that the blood would come off. It didn't.

The bell rang.

I swung my backpack onto my back and felt the fabric rub against my raw and open skin.

Well that fucking hurts, but I did it to myself, so I ignored it. I could've just stopped picking, as my mother so often reminded me. I should've just stopped.

I mean, it's not like I had some mental condition I didn't know about that was fueling this, right?

When my mom picked me up from after hours that day, both of my arms were red, both from blood and inflammation. Scabs littered every place in my skin that I could reach. The first thing she did was pull up my sleeve and her frown turned into a scowl.

"Really, [deadname]? Seriously? After all I told you about how that's horrible for your skin? Do you want to be so ugly no boy will want to date you?"

That did sound pleasant, actually, but I didn't need to tell her that. Besides, that wasn't why I was doing it. To be honest, there wasn't really a why. I didn't even realize I was doing it, usually, until I had. I zoned out as she ranted about how I'd never be able to wear a swimsuit, I would have permanent scars, and as I did, my left hand trailed up my arm, grazing the warm, itchy, painful bumps.

Pinch. Squeeze. Scratch.

[freezing-kaiju]

Will you send your sea angels?

Biotober prompt 11: Abyssal

warnings: body horror, brief mention of self-mutilation, religion, thallassal horror, transhumanism or perhaps dehumanization.

---

It’s as clear as the day is long; I don’t belong down here.

 I found out that the second sub was gone today, it’s long since been gone, and I can’t launch it alone anyway. The stuff I found...Jenkins’s watch, Rhys’s horrible little brand of hairgel, Schumacher’s chair, right where everyone leaves everything. Their spare stashes of underwear, too; not much fits, but I’ve made do.

There will be energy still; generators bolted to the vents, gaining and maintaining power for so long as they keep running. Desalination plants, that give me water enough to bathe in and drink, all without my maintenance. I can adjust them, I can make demands, but...

I sit on my heels and I pray for rescue.

---

I sit on my heels as I pray for rescue. I’m getting paler every day; when they haul me up I’ll probably burst into flames from the sun. Swear I can see my veins sometimes. It feels like there’s people out there sometimes. Wish I could just slap on a wetsuit and head out there, but the pressure wouldn’t do me any favors. I’m staying active instead, running sprints, trying to remember what stretches help. Calisthenics, right? Is that what it’s called? Keeping my everything in… in shape. The protein powder’ll help too! Maybe Chase’ll think it’s sick when I show up just completely roided up. Mr. Mechanic, I need to get jacked. Hulk Hogan type body.

Good lord, I’ll never get American Made out of my head now…

Maybe I should try writing my own.

What was that Sherlock Holmes thing, learning new things that aren’t essential shoves old things out of the mind? I forgot my phone number today. Finally remembered which doors lead to the chemical storage straight from my room, though, so that has to be connected. 

---

I sit as I heal and I pray for rescue. No fat to make soap; I've cut off all I care to of my own. The water will do. It’s done enough, it’ll do more, but somehow it got a little sweet. It’s enough. My food’s getting low enough to carry all together, the sixth month has to be up sooner than later. That’s good though! As long as I ration it properly, I can make it two more months.  Exercise’s paying off; I found a spare propeller in one of the crawlspaces earlier and, wouldn’t you know, it’s light enough to use as a baton! I...do need to be careful, though. Scarred the ceiling a couple times. If enough damage happens, the air’ll all get out, and the facility’ll become one big water damage souffle. All the salt’ll kill my plants too.

Humans go insane without plants, so really, I’m lucky I’m alone here. Rhys’d kill the whole crop and put his head through the window by the end of week 1. 

-- 

I sit and this heals and I pray for rescue. I tried drinking the hair gel and, honestly, it helped. I feel crisper. Sleeker! Like a cat. I can get a cat someday, can’t I? It kind of feels like there’s some of them outside. I swear I can hear coyotes out there sometimes, yowling in groups of three that prance around the station. Sometimes, I can see them. But I can cover the portholes and keep them away. It’s not like any light’s getting through anyway. 

---

I sit, and I heel, and I prey for rescue.

---

And I pray, and prey, and pray, and prey, because God will feed me soon. My family will come and feed me soon. I can almost see them out there, in a tin can just like my own, reaching out for me. I wish I knew what it’ll look like. I should greet them. I should swim out and greet them. 

Fuck, I wish I could swim out. When they pull me out of this, I’ll have to go through decompression, and...hell, I’ll be grateful. The pressure down here gets so bad I can barely walk anymore. That’s why nobody’s found me, it has to be, I’m just so close to the earth’s core that gravity’s pulling me down. It’s useful for praying, though. My legs don’t get numb anymore. 

Is god feeding me?

---

I... I looked in the mirror today. I...

My eyes are gone.

---

I’m still human, aren’t I? I....

Something happened to me. Something...happened...to me, but.

But I tried it out. It’s been forever since I spoke to someone else but I can still sing my prayers. So I tried it. Went...went back to a mirror and looked at.

Myself. 

I can still speak.

Hey, how are you, my name is Janet, I’m a human being, just like you. I was left here. Something happened to me. I’m doing alright but I’d like to try...a cupcake. Some apples. Anything edible that wasn’t meat. I... these teeth, the teeth I have left are-- no, looking closely, my molars are still there, it’s just that the front ones got...longer... I. Those....weren’t my hands, though. 

I... I don’t think I want to look in the mirror anymore.

But if I can speak! I can shout, even, I can still manage a great big HIIII HELLOOOO NICE TO SEE YOUUU that echoes through the whole station! So they won’t shoot me! I’ll just...stay a bit away from the front door, and greet them, and ask that they don’t shoot me, and say my name and maybe some identifying characteristics. Like...like cheating at the mile run in the third grade and crying to my parents about it. 

If they do bring guns... I don’t think I can run anymore.

So...so, I kneel, and pray, that they’ll bring me home.

[my-moony-and-padfoot]

Get to know me :) In a very detailed manner and all of this totally unnecessary and unneeded

(I found these random questions/"get to know me" thingies from Pinterest and left out a few things) I just wanted to do this because I'm hella bored and definitely shouldn't be studying

Definitely not

First name: Guess 📚

Middle name: Maria

Nickname: My friends call me Grandma, Gran and gran-gran.

Age: young and sweet, only seventeen

Height: 165.5 cm

Birthday: 31st of July

Zodiac sign: I'm a Leo ♌

Sexuality: Pan 🍳

Fave color: light pink, light purple and dark green

Fave animal/s: dogs and cats, foxes. Red pandas are cool too and reindeers. Oh oh and turtles

Pets: three dogs and four cats (in two different places tho)

Shoe size: 38-39 EU

Hair color: orange ish

How long is your hair: down to my shoulders

Eye color: blue green brown ish something I really don't know, they're weird. They like often change colors weirdly idk what's up with them. So, I usually stick with saying they're green

Do you have glasses: I do 🤓

Any siblings: half big sister and half big brother, so technically one right?

Where are you from: That there is a mystery 🌎, unless you're fucking Sherlock, or another fictional detective, or a stalker

Last dream: A nightmare of my grandma trying to kill our whole family

Fave book/s: One of the harry potters and heart stoppers. Also I love this Norse mythology book I have

Last book you bought: Poison, and before the coffee gets cold

Favorite hobby/hobbies: writing and crochet 🧶. Also I really like DND 🎲

Favorite game: Sims 4, Minecraft

Fave song/s: We made it - Louis Tomlinson, lowlife - YUNGBLUD, Mars - YUNGBLUD Call your mom - Noah Kahan and arsonist - Alec Benjamin, Body - Mother Mother, Miserable man - David Kusher, Holding on to heartache - Louis Tomlinson, Golden - Harry Styles (I'm sorry I couldn't pick just one) Theres so many more tho

Favorite artist/s: Louis Tomlinson (he's mainly on my play list) and I also like Harry styles. YUNGBLUD, Noah Kahan, David Kusher, Jordan Suaste, cavetown, Conan Gray... I like too many artists, okay?

Last song you listened to: Polygraph eyes - YUNGBLUD

Fave movie: Harry Potter Goblet of fire, I don't really watch movies 🎥 Sweeney Todd is good too

Religion: I'm a Christian, like I belong in the church but I don't really believe into anything, but I respect everyone who does <3

Have you been to the hospital: A lot when I was a child, last time was because of my knees

Ever gotten in trouble with the law: Nope

Met any celebrities: I've met a few YouTubers, does that count?

Baths or showers: Showers. Definitely showers 🚿

What color socks are you wearing: white with light purple stripes at the top

Would you like to be famous: not really no

How many pillows do you sleep with: Two, well one the other one just is kinda there but it's never under my head, it's to prop the other one up

Do you own stuffed animals: I do 🧸

If you do, how many: Six, can't sleep without one of them (it's a bunny). I lied there's seven

What position do you sleep in: The Superman position, y'know? 🦸‍♂️

What do you eat for breakfast: I don't eat breakfast, sometimes coffee though, coffee with oat milk is the best

Ever tried archery: I actually have, was my hobby for a year or something, spoiler alert; wasn't very good at it 🏹

Ever fired a gun: Nope and won't

Favorite clean word: fluffy, it's nice to say

Favorite curse word: Fuck, I say that way too much someone help me

Longest you've been without sleep: 23 hours

Have any scars: I do, a surgery scar on my knee, one on my upper lip from my teeth going through it, small one in the corner of my eyes, a lot on my knees from falling down as a kid so much, and then some others

Are you a good liar: I think I am

Can you do any accents (besides your own): Not really and I don't have that much of an accent, I think. Though my friends tell me I have a bit of a British accent, which is bizarre, and I don't really hear it myself.

What is your personality type: from the 16 personalities INFJ-T 🌛

Can you curl your tongue: I can, I can also do the flower thingy

Left or right handed: right handed

Are you scared of spiders: Sort of, I don't mind them as long as they're not near me

Favorite food: lasagna and tortillas

Are you a clean or a messy person: Messy but in an organized way 📦

Most used phrase: "No shit Sherlock" "no wayyy" "just...why?"

Most used word: Probably some curse word... Or "what" "why"

Do you suck or bite lollipops: Bite 😬

Do you talk to yourself: all the freaking time

Do you sing to yourself: I do, everytime I listen to music alone 😶‍🌫️

Are you a good singer: I'd like to say that I am, but I don't actually know

Biggest fear: someone murdering me (during the night with a knife), dislocating my knee, or any other part that can be dislocated (it hurts so fucking much, cannot recommend)

Can you name all the states: Maybe probably, haven't tried

Favorite school subject: Psychology or English 📖

Least favorite school subject: MATH, and chemistry, physics is sorta alright but I don't like the math part

Extrovert or introvert: as introverted as they come lol

Have you been scuba diving: Nope, probably never will go 🤿 deep waters scare me

What makes you nervous: Literally everything, it's called anxiety ✨

Are you scared of the dark: not anymore, unless it's outside, sometimes it's scary inside too, but not too often

Do you correct people if they make mistakes: Sometimes but not to be mean to them, but not like minor mistakes, unless I wanna annoy someone

Are you ticklish: Not really 🪶

Have you been in a position of authority: I've been a scout leader for the past three years, can't do it anymore tho, does that count?

Have you ever drank underage: Once because my sister forced me to, A glass of champagne how rebellious of me

Ever done drugs: Nope

Ever smoked anything: Nope x2

How many piercings do you have: I have earrings and snake bites 🐍 I really want an industrial but idk if I have the correct anatomy

How fast can you type: Somewhat fast, I'm faster on my phone than on a computer

Are you a fast learner: Depends on the subject, but usually yes

Can you roll your R's: No I cannot 🐐

Do you keep a journal: Every now and then, I'm not very consistent. But I do do bullet journaling in the back of my calendar

Do you like your age: ✨Sweet sixteen✨ It's fine, I don't really care I'd honestly rather be older ⚰️

Do you like your name: I think it's very pretty, I used to hate it tho when I was young (still kinda do, most of the time). It's fine but I just don't like using it with people

How did you get your name: From my mom and dad lol. No it "tells a story" and it suits well for English which my mom wanted, it's somewhat rare here where I live. With the spelling I have

Dream job: I have zero clue 🔎

What was your first job: A week at a daycare. But my first actual job (something I got paid for) was in a coffee shop for a summer

What places have you worked in: In a daycare and a preschool and two summers in that cafe, never going back there it was horrible

Last show you watched: Chicago med 🩺

Last show you finished: baby reindeer

Favorite show ever: Big bang theory, Chicago med, what we do in the shadows and 911. Oh, heartstopper :)

What is your earliest memory: Sitting on a dresser and my dad telling me to wait for a bit, or being on my mum's shoulders while she was doing something outside (I'm not sure which one is first)

Happiest memory: Moving away, getting into the school I wanted with good grades

When did you start this blog: May-June 2022

When did you start writing fanfic: January 2022 (The next few ones a writing related because they were in this one list of questions I found)

What was your first fic: Fred Weasley/reader definitely not with a self insert *cough cough.

How do you come up with ideas for writing: They just come up when I try to sleep, or am doing something random, or something happens so I just write it out. I hate brain storming with all my heart because nothing good comes up when I try

What character/s do you enjoy writing the most: Sirius and Remus <3, but lately I've fallen in love with Percy and Oliver and starchaser is always fun to write. Also lily and Pandora are lovely to write, I just never really do it

What character do you not enjoy writing: Any authoritative figure because it's hard and when there's multiple characters because it's hard to keep track

Is there a fic you regret writing: Not really, I mean I'm embarrassed of some of my writings, but it just shows that I've learned and I can write better now :)

Favorite thing you've written: "When I..." A long fic about a suicide attempt and it was very comforting to write, but then I think I've written a few good hurt/comfort fics. There's like very small bits of the stories that I absolutely love, and loved to write

What do you like to write: Hurt/comfort and just sad things, I feel like I'm good at it. I like descriptive writing too and I've been trying to work on it lately

What don't you like writing: Smut, I feel a little cringe when I write it, and like longer fics, I feel I can't come up with a good enough idea for a one 🤔 Also, I don't have the patience for that

Favorite characters: Sheldon Cooper from the big bang theory. Sirius and Remus obviously, Regulus, and then I like the Weasley twins... There's honestly too many that I like. But to mention a few more: Nick, Charlie, Elle, Tara and Darcy <3 and the art teacher I can't remember the name of from heartstopper. Loki <3. Will Halsted and Sharon Goodwin are the best characters in Chicago med, fight me. Laszlo from what we do in the shadows.

Do you keep a journal: I have a few pages in the back of my calendar for bullet journaling

One bad habit: self deprecation, I apparently do that too much. Source: my friends

What did you want to be as a child: I really wanted to be a chef or a baker

Who's the last person you held hands with: My friend when dancing, if that doesn't count, then with the same friend at a school Christmas party cause I almost lost them in the hallway 'cause there were a lot of people. Before that, no clue

Are you outgoing or shy: Shy with new people. I'm shyly outgoing lol

Who are you looking forward to seeing: My bestie haven't seen her in over a year

What does your most recent text say: "Alright :)" Another one cause it was around the same time but to a different person. "It's just a little guy"

Do you have trust issues. Oh yeah

Favorite part of your daily routine: Everything cause it always goes the same way. We love structure over here. But if I have to pick one, cracking my back every morning cause it's so satisfying

What do you do when you wake up: Turn off my alarm if it's on, then I go through the notifications on my phone and just lay there doing random things before I gotta get up. Usually reading actually if I have enough time and oh, always listen to a podcast/music

Morning routine: What I just mentioned, but when I get up, I drink water and take my meds, go to the bathroom, brush my teeth. If I'm going somewhere I pack my stuff, and then dress up. If I'm not going anywhere, I usually start watching something and drink coffee in peace and then change clothes

Evening routine: I shower, wash my face, sometimes eat something and change into pyjamas. Mark stuff in my calendar, do my journaling and then I get into bed. I usually read before sleeping, a book or fanfic.

Do you like your neighbors: I don't really know our neighbors 👀 except the ones I dog sit for. Oh at least one of our neighbors thinks I'm creepy. (Literally steered their kids away from me while I was coming from school.)

Is your hair long enough for a ponytail: it is, I just often don't keep it in one. Unless it's dirty or I'm alone and need it to get it out of the way

How many languages can you speak: Two (actually three but I'm really bad at the third one) I picked french for next year tho :)

Can you cook: Yep, I'm quite good at it. I can bake too

Last time you cried: A few days ago because I was feeling like an absolutely horrible human being

How long does it take you to get ready: Like 10 minutes lol ⏱️

Favorite number: 5. Five is the Ultimate number, and everything either ends in five or is divisible by five. I've always liked the number five :3

Alright 😮‍💨

That was quite long, Sorry about that, I just like questions :)

If there is something you wanna know for some reason, feel free to ask. Like I said I like questions.

I might write more things here, if I think of something or find something fun

Feel free to use these if you want, I just want to note that most of these I did not make up myself and I don't know who did.

Enjoy this I guess I just got inspired and stopped studying for this, anyone I can blame on my English grade after this 👀

Also there's almost hundred of you following me, that's so weird....

<3

[kookies2000]

You be surprised what cartoons and films can do. They are sometimes very therapeutic. Two years, for a little over two years I've been dealing with some kind of anxiety attack and facing an inner crises on repeat. Long story short, it took me years to come to terms about my religious abuse, sexual abuse, physical abuse, mental abuse, just every abuse really. 😅 To the point where I can openly talk about it now with out feeling ashamed and I have more freedom and feel more relaxed. Yeah I kinda lost a few teeth and gained some scars (physically 😅) and my siblings also struggled but we got out and healed/healing. At least my brother has an interesting story to tell now.

"I was trapped in a building with a Chucky sized six year old, who killed both his parents by the way! And he was running in the fucking halls at night! I wouldn't leave my room until the nurse's finally tackled that mother fucker." - My brother 2022

But one thing that has always helped were cartoons. From Ducktales, The Owl House, Amphibia, She Ra, Infinity Train, Steven Universe and Helluva Boss. I feel like we need more shows and films that tackle these issues. Issues about abuse of every kind, religion like The Owl House, relationships like Amphibia amd Steven Universe, therapy, ect. These shows have helped me a lot and figuer out how to handle myself. Not to mention I learned a lot from therapist and a YouTube called Cinima Therapy. Their YouTube channle is great and filled with fantastic advice. They watch films and shows and talk about it in a therapeutic view.

In summery, I've been healing and feeling better after years of leaving an abusive house hold. And a lot of it is thanks to films and shows that tackle serious issues. And I just feel like animation in general is under rated and looked over to often.

[yikesharringrove]

I both really want to read a conversion camp fic and really fucking DONT lol but I trust you to do it well and not absolutely destroy us so... I am asking for you to write the conversion camp fic please.

Oh, my plan is to absolutely destroy you all with this one.

This is modern bc it wasn’t gonna be but then I wrote a part and it kinda had to be lol

TW: religion, homophobia, transphobia (nd Steve), conversion camp, anxiety, depression, physical abuse, the word r*pe is thrown around, suicidal ideations, basically, it’s a DOOZY

Seriously, this shit gets DARK. I have A LOT of untapped emotions.

But it has a happy ending, don’t worry

-

Steve’s hands were shaking as they dug through his bag.

They had already pulled out the eyeshadow palette he had tried to sneak in, needed something to make himself feel okay in this inevitable Hell.

“Did you receive our guidelines?” They had found the lipstick he had shoved in one of his shoes. “We specifically outlined prohibited items.” He took a shaky breath. “Your perversion is much deeper than anticipated, Mr. Harrington.” He just nodded.

He was shuffled about, led to a cold blank room.

His first meeting with a conversion specialist.

“What is your infatuation with women’s things?” The man’s voice made Steve feel like there was cold water dripping down his back.

“I just like pretty things.”

“Why do you deny your manhood?”

“I don’t.”

“You say that, but you do. Every time you pretend you’re a woman-”

“I don’t pretend I’m a woman. I just like makeup and stuff.” He gave Steve a disgusted look.

“By denying your true self, you have turned your back on God. You have allowed the devil to infiltrate your soul, to convince you that these perversions are okay.” He looked down at the paper in his lap, the forms Steve had been forced to sit and fill out with his parents. “You were not close with your father, were you?”

“Um, no. Not really.”

“So you pushed away your male role model?”

“He pushed me away, more like.” The man pursed his lips.

“A father does not push away his son unless there is something evil within him. A father can always tell when there is something wrong, something disgusting in his offspring.” He stood up, towering over Steve.

“You are disgusting, Steven Harrington. You are perverse and foul. You turn your back on your Creator. But you are not without a savior. You can be saved. Denounce the devil that tempts you to this life. Follow your savior, and He will lead you to safety.” He held out his hand. Steve took a breath, and shook it.

-

Steve’s first day was a fucking nightmare.

He was led to his room, a small room with two bunked beds and no doors. He was told he’d have three roommates, and if they were caught touching one another, the punishment would be painful.

And then it was group therapy.

He sat in a circle with ten of the other boys from the program. They were forced to discuss every attraction they had ever felt to anyone besides women. They were forced to discuss sexual encounters they had had with men, and call themselves disgusting.

And as it was Steve’s turn, and he talked about wearing panties, and fingering himself, and sucking Tommy’s dick, and he felt disgusting.

At dinner he met one of his roommates, and his heart sank.

“Where’d they scrape you up?” The guy was fucking gorgeous.

“Indiana.”

“And you just a homo? Or...?” The guy’s voice trailed off as he looked Steve up and down. “You one a’ them crossdressers, too?” Steve flushed deeply.

“How, how did you know?”

“Because you look like they got to you already. Means they got something on you. Make you feel real bad about yourself.”

“How, how long have you been here?”

“Long enough. Seen plenty a’ boys come and go. Some cured, some just a lost cause.” He was so nonchalant about the whole thing.

“Why, why so long?” He grinned at Steve, sharp and beautiful.

“Because I’m immune, Pretty Boy.” Steve’s breath hitched. The guy licked over his teeth. “Can’t beat the gay outta me if they tried. And they fuckin’ have.”

“But why, why don’t you want to change? I mean, they’re, they’re right.” His blue eyes went cold.

“They got you deep. Damn, you might be the quickest turn around I’ve ever seen.”

“I just, I don’t want to be wrong anymore.” He leaned closer to Steve.

“You have never been wrong.” Steve felt like he was gonna cry.

A firm hand clapped down on Steve’s shoulder.

“William, I hope you’re treating our new guest nicely.” William’s face fell immediately.

“Yes, Father.” Steve looked up to see a priest holding onto him. His hair was greying and neat. His eyes were cold and dead.

“I’m afraid I’m going to have to take Steven with me.” Steve followed him, eyes downcast, all the way to his office. “Steven, my name is Father Andrew. I’m here to help you.” Steve didn’t like his smile. “We’re going to meet everyday at 8:30 pm for your therapy.”

He pulled out a folder from the bottom drawer of his desk. He placed a photograph in front of Steve with a flourish.

It was porn.

It was fucking gay porn.

He stood in front of Steve, leaning against the desk, off to the side of the image.

“Tell me what you see here.” One of the men had dark hair. He was being taken from behind by the other man, his blond hair and bright eyes stirred something in Steve.

“Two men. Having sex.”

He didn’t see Father Andrew’s hand, just heard the crack of it against his cheek.

His eyes watered, his cheek burned.

“What do you see?”

“Two perverts.”

“What are they doing?”

“Defiling one another.”

“Good, Steven. You’re learning.”

He placed another photograph down. This time, the man being fucked had a full face of makeup, tears making the dark eyeliner run as he was on his back, hands cuffed to the bed. The man fucking him was smirking at the camera, tongue between his teeth.

“How does this make you feel?”

“Disgusted.”

“Why?”

“That they, they would touch each other like that.”

“Do you have fantasies like this? Of being tied up by another man? Raped by another man?”

And the answer, the answer was technically yes. He had plenty of fantasies of being tied up, taken rough, taken dirty.

But rape. That’s a strong fucking word.

“No, Father.” Another crack. Another slap.

“Lying is a sin, Steven.”

“I, I don’t want to be, to be raped.” Another slap.

“Lying is a sin, Steven.”

“Yes, yes Father. I have had fantasies.”

“These are not fantasies, these are perversions planted in your mind by demons, by the devil trying to pull you away from Christ our Lord. Do not let these demons lead you astray.”

He pulled out another picture.

Steve’s heart fucking stopped.

It was a picture of himself. A nude he had taken for Tommy.

He was wearing pretty lingerie, pouting to the camera. He remembers taking it, remembers putting on his makeup, posing over and over until he took one he liked. They must’ve gone through his phone, through his texts.

“Why do you dress like a woman?”

“Be-because I’m disgusting.” And the thing is, Steve had been told plenty of times that day that he’s disgusting, and he had begun to believe it.

“Good, Steven. You are disgusting. Do you believe you’re a woman?”

“No, Father.”

“Then why have you been experimenting with women’s things?”

“I believed I wasn’t a man.”

“And are you a man?”

“Yes, Father.”

“God made you a man.”

“Yes, Father.” Steve still didn’t like his smile.

He switched the image.

And it was another one of his nudes. This time he was in a skirt, kneeling with his back to the mirror, one hand spreading his cheeks, showing off the silver plug in his ass.

He even remembers the text he had sent with it.

Tommy had been studying for a test, so Steve sent that picture and said but im lonely :( and Tommy had replied I’ll be there in twenty.

“Why do you have an obsession with your anus?” Steve could feel the blood drain from his face.

“I, uh, it feels good.” Another slap.

“How does spitting in the face of your Heavenly Father feel good, Steven? Sodomy does not feel good.” Another slap. Steve’s face felt like it was on fire.

“I’m sorry, Father. I am vile, and disgusting.” Steve was sobbing, felt so fucking pathetic, trying to look anywhere but the printed image of himself.

“I think that’s enough for tonight. I expect you here tomorrow after dinner.”

Steve fucking ran back to his room.

The other boys were asleep. He climbed into the top bunk, curling into himself.

He felt disgusting, he felt foul and wrong and bad.

He tried to stifle his sobs into his pillow, the scratchy case muffling his panic attack.

“Hey, Stevie.”

“I’m sorry. I’ll try to be quiet.” There was a sigh, breath fanning over his face.

And then the boy from earlier was swinging himself into bed with him, curling against him.

“They said-”

“I know exactly what times they patrol. I’ll leave your bed before then.” He sighed. “First night’s always the hardest. You just gotta get through. Tell them what they wanna hear, but remember that they’re fucking wrong. You are valid, and real. Being gay is not disgusting.”

Steve curled into him, letting himself be comforted.

“Thank you. Thank you, William.”

“Oh, Christ. Call me Billy.”

“Thank you, Billy.”

-

As time passed, it was easy to retreat into himself.

He met with Father Andrew every night, got slapped and hit when his answers weren’t condemning enough.

But each night, Billy would crawl into bed with him, would hold him when he broke down.

The kiss was inevitable.

It happened after Steve had an extreme day, the beating he received when he had admitted to being nonbinary, that he had asked his friends at home to use other pronouns.

And Billy had said you’re perfect the way you are, Sweet Thing.

And Steve kissed him.

And Steve wanted to die.

-

“Forgive me, Father. For I have sinned.” Steve took a shaking breath.

He was kneeling in the small confessional.

They had Mass every three days, and confession each Friday.

“It has been one week since my last confession.” He took a deep breath. He needed to get this of his chest, needed to get the punishment he deserved. “Father, I, the feelings have not gone away. There is, there’s a boy, and I, I love him. And I try not to. I try not to look at him, to remember the devil is leading me astray. But Father, I think about him. I think about him often.”

“This is an extremely grievous sin, my son.”

“I know, Father. Please help me. I want to, I want to be pure. To be free of this sin, this temptation.”

“I offer, as penance for your sins, to pray a rosary for each time you have had an evil thought about your fellow man this week. As you ponder the Mysteries of the rosary, consider how God created you, how Jesus died for you, and you wipe your feet on their love.”

“Yes, Father.”

“And our meeting will be arduous tonight, Steven.”

“Yes, Father.”

“Now please, recite the Act of Contrition.”

Steve’s hands shook as he recited the prayer, finishing his confession with Father Andrew.

-

“Now, Steven. You discussed having impure thoughts today.”

Steve’s knees ached from praying the rosary so many times earlier today. He hadn’t eaten, had gone straight to the Chapel after his confession.

He wanted to pray, to cleanse himself.

And he didn’t want to risk seeing Billy.

“Yes, Father.”

“And you mentioned that you love another boy.”

“The devil is trying to make me think it’s love.” Father Andrew smiled his empty smile down at Steve.

“That’s right Steven. Because love cannot exist between two men. Love is a beautiful thing created and given to us by The Lord God.” Father Andrew leaned over Steve, made him shrink back in his seat. “Which is why you are unlovable as you are. You are foul and vile. You may be loved if you change.”

He grabbed Steve’s hair, holding his head still as he slapped his face.

And Steve let him.

He was foul, he was vile.

He deserved the pain.

-

Two months.

That’s how long it took Steve to “graduate”.

He left the facility in clean khakis, a nice sweater his mother had sent him to wear home.

Billy had left a week and a half prior.

He was deemed a lost cause.

Steve’s mother was there to pick him up, hugged him tight and told him how happy she was that he was fixed.

He was quiet as they drove, watching the shadows the summer sun cast on the side of the plain flat road.

“Your father will be pleased. You’ve made such wonderful progress. Free of all those delusions.”

They passed Tommy’s house.

He felt sick.

-

The first thing Steve did when he got home was destroy all his make up.

He took everything feminine from it’s hiding spot in the back of his closet.

He scraped out the eye shadow, smeared the lipstick all over his dresses.

He cut up his lingerie, shoved everything into a black garbage back, driving into town to toss it in the dumpster behind the gas station.

He wanted it away, he wanted it gone. He wanted to be pure.

-

His hands shook as he zipped up the suitcase.

He didn’t have much in there, was planning on taking enough to get him through a little while, then maybe buying some things, some pretty things.

His parents were asleep downstairs, he was planning on being long gone by the time they woke up.

He put on his backpack, taking his wallet and tiptoeing down the stairs, his shoes in his hand.

He had a plan, would drive to the bus station, leave his car there.

Someone will find it, and at that point, he’ll be long gone.

He bought a bus ticket to Chicago, paid in cash and gave a fake name.

He was fucking out of here.

They were fucking out of here.

-

“As I live, and fucking breathe.”

Steve startled as a hand came down on their shoulder.

They startled again when they turned around, came face to face with a ghost from the past.

“B-Billy?” Billy’s hair was longer than it had been at the camp. His smile was lazier, his eyes brighter. Steve’s gut gave an excited little flutter as he looked them up and down.

“You look fuckin’ gorgeous, Pretty Boy.” Steve flushed, adjusting their dress. It was new.

It had been three years since the camp. One year of Steve living in pain, until they packed their shit, and moved to the Golden Coast. They left in the middle of the fucking night, ran away like a scared child, never looking back.

And here was the love of their goddamn life, in some hole in the wall coffee shop in San Fransisco.

“It’s uh, it’s not Pretty Boy, anymore.” Billy’s grin got even wider.

“Thank fuck.” He swung himself into the seat across from Steve’s, upsetting some of the papers they were working on.

“What happened to you, Billy?” Billy’s smiled slipped, just a little.

“My dad was tired a’ paying for that joint if I wasn’t getting better. So he said if I wasn’t fixed in like, a month, he would stop paying, and I would be kicked out. Stayed true to his word. Haven’t seen the bastard since.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. Getting kicked outta that place is the best fuckin’ thing that’s ever happened to me.”

“I graduated. Went through the whole thing. Took me a year to realize how fucked up it was.”

“Jesus. They got you deep.” Steve shrugged.

“I’m okay now.”

“Yeah? What’re you doin’?”

“Goin’ to school. Gonna be a counselor. Hopefully work in an elementary school, or something.” Billy’s eyes were bright.

“That’s amazing. Gonna tell all the little queer kids that they’re valid and all that?”

“That’s the goal.” Billy grinned. “What are you doing now? You with anyone?”

“I own a bar, actually. Kind of a dive, but it’s a good time.” He looked at Steve through his lashes. “You should come by, sometime. Be good to see you.”

“I’d like to see you too.”

“And to answer your question, I’m not with anyone. Not right now.” He smirked. “But I could be.” He leaned over the table, drawing one finger down Steve’s hand. “I like seeing you happy. Feel like I only ever saw you cryin’ in that joint.”

“Well, spent a lot of time crying there.”

“For good reason.” Billy took their hand. “It’s really good to see you.”

“Y’know I told Father Andrew I was in love with you. Got beat black and fuckin’ blue for it.” Billy’s face was grave.

“Why’d you do that?”

“Wanted to be fixed. Took me a year to realize I didn’t need that.”

“You stop lovin’ me in that year?”

“Not even in the two after that.” Billy took a shaking breath.

“You know, I uh, I love you too. Always did. It broke my fucking heart to leave you in that place. Was gonna wake you up that night, get you to run away with me. But they took me out, uh, forcibly.”

“Bet you put up a real good fight.”

“Broke Father Ryan’s nose.” Steve let out a burst of laughter, clapping one hand over their mouth.

“I was wondering about that. He had a splint for like, a month.”

“Yeah, well, bastard kept tryin’ to exorcise me. Headbutted him right in the face.”

“Good for you, Bill. Sometimes I wish I could light the whole place on fire.”

“Me too.” Billy took their hand, pressing a kiss to the back of it. “I gotta head, but I wanna see you. Soon. Later today, if you can.”

“Yeah, uh, I’m just doing some homework, but I could stop by the bar tonight? I don’t have shit to do tomorrow.”

“Lemme pick you up. We can go to dinner before I take you to the bar.” They smiled softly at him.

“I’d like that.”

[thal-fox]

Criticism and hate online usually doesn't bother me. I got a hard shell the wrong way in an awful industry, where people threatened to punch me in person and men spent hours sending me detailed awful threats of a certain kind. Attempted doxxings, transphobic hate... the works.

And it broke me, more than once. I left that industry after several years, finally in the therapy I'd badly needed since I could first talk.

More recently, online hate didn't bother me. I only share what I want to, and I only say what I mean. If someone takes issue with my words, then if it's a viewpoint I've overlooked or I've mistepped, I listen and learn. But if it's someone being hateful over nothing, I don't really care. I am never mean, or vindictive, or snappy because... there's no point in letting trolls anger me, and toxic people don't deserve a seconds thought. I've never been a mean person. Why would I be?

But I didn't factor in being criticised for something I haven't said. For things I haven't done. For things said in sarcastic context amongst friends, that even out of context still don't say anything I don't mean. (That Luke is not a kid =/= he shouldn't be treated as one. He should be treated as a kid, that is my opinion. I have made that distinction countless times, along with my assertion that I do not hate on or harass or censor those with 'problematic' adult ships. It's fucking fiction anyway, but even so - I did not say what they have decided I did).

It's gaslighting. It's them pointing at words I have said and them saying my words hold a different meaning. It's them pointing at me venting about antis cancelling SFW artists and them stating I have created NSFW work featuring a child character. It's them pointing at a channel I created (demon x demon) and them saying I have therefore created content for that channel.

Sure, it's lies. But it's more than that, it is gaslighting. It is holding up the truth while at the same time insisting it says otherwise.

The other people in my past who have gaslit me were my abusers. And the gaslighting was the beginning of a nightmare that ended in broken consent, living in fear, and being permanently disabled.

I'd seen antis attack artists for fictional adult ships before, and could see the parallel many pointed out with witch hunting. "Burn the witch!" they cry, but with a thousand other metaphors for painful death, hounding their victims out of employment, a performance of remorse only ever shown when they actually get their way and a person loses their life.

But just recently, I was asked about a character in OM and whether I thought there was merit to a theory they had undergone religious trauma. It is a question I sidestepped, for two reasons. One, bringing religion into fandom is a recipe for disaster.

And two, I underwent religious trauma. It is intertwined with the early to mid to teen severe childhood trauma I survived.

I know what it is to be told I am a sinner. To feel that my soul is beyond redemption unless I submit to men in authority. I understand all too damn well what it is to stamp down my own sexuality and gender long after religion was escaped, because those scars go so fucking deep.

I know the fear of being met with those who believe so fervently in their moral superiority, that only their lives have value, only their choices are moral, and that only they have the right to dictate whether others get to live in peace or be subject to slurs, eternal punishment, death.

~

I've had multiple breakdowns in my lifetime. Dissociative disorders and cPTSD be like that. This was not a breakdown. But only because I have been in therapy, and still am in therapy, and have and am and will be forever on meds.

For all the shit I've been through, I consider myself lucky. A bad spiral for me today, would have been another attempt in the past. I've done some damn hard work but if my friend hadn't paid for my therapy, if my dog hadn't been there that one time, if if if...

I am lucky.

A bunch of twenty-something supposed adults decided to circulate screenshots of my private server showing my own words, but attached their own meanings.

Without ever speaking to me, they gaslit me in front of people who for whatever reason, obeyed their words rather than think for themselves.

As a SFW blog I blocked and will block anyone who writes or endorses messages of threat or death, as well as any words that can trigger people.

This was held up as an admission of guilt, rather than a survivor of abuse seeking to protect themself from yet more abusers.

~

To those who did this, and who think an excuse of "but I didn't say-" "I wasn't the one who-", you all did it. You added to a situation in which threats were made, lies were spread, and you saw the story grow and not once did any of you say to stop adding to the lies, to stop putting in the wishes for my death, to cease reblogging the hate and harassment and gaslighting, to put an end to taking screenshots of my blog to share with people I have blocked for their support of abuse.

You are all complicit. Not only in the harm done to me, but in the harm done to other vulnerable people on my server, who I have done my utmost to try and protect.

You gaslit me, just as my abusers did. You condemned me by those lies, just as those who caused me religious trauma did. You broke the privacy of a private server, and as a result CSA survivors left because they no longer felt safe because of YOU.

You plastered vile triggering words attached to my username, with only the most grudging apology to the one CSA survivor who asked you to stop.

And you laughed about how you should rewrite my content so you could still fucking use it, and claim I ever said my server was small or public. Even over these little things, still you gaslit.

~

My blog is about a fucking mobile game.

Get help for your abusive behaviours before you hurt even more people. This has cost me blood and scars and I don't expect you to care, because you are walking in the footsteps of those who did far, far worse to me.

I sincerely hope you never have to suffer a fraction of what I have been through, but not as much as I wish you'd stop harming survivors of CSA, and survivors of any sexual trauma online.

I'm gonna go back to writing about made up demons now.

~

[valleyboypta]

I've just been catching up with Joaquin's previous films, it's an impressive career. I've watched The Master three times and still couldn't figure out what it's about. I know you love the film, can you talk a little bit what the film is about? I love your blog, you're one of the best blogs about Joaquin.

Thank you! And yes, The Master ask! My favorite kind of ask! 

The Master is about war and a kind of romance, or a romantic idea. 

First off, it’s quite easy to know that it’s a film about the terrible and ugly post-war crisis because plenty of screen time is about war veterans, Joaquin’s character Freddie is a war veteran himself undergoing terrible physical and mental episodes of PTSD. There’s flashback scenes of Freddie on the sea, in army uniform and in the war. And there’s scenes where The Master carried out the sessions with Freddie, in which there’s a lot of dialogues from Freddie talking about what he experienced in the war(e.g. Freddie talking about killing Japs in the war, mumbling barbed wire/open field/storm in the touching-wooden-wall-and-glass application, and talking about war-winning battleship in the not-blinking application). In the film, you can see how broken Freddie is, and know it’s this war that had snatched him away from the proper path, worn him and people like him out, torn them down and broken them apart. Also about The Master, you can read about the man who started Scientology, L. Ron Hubbard, on whom The Master is based, he’s been in U.S. Navy during WWII and published the book that really made him “success” post-war. There’s a link between him and WWII as well.

About romance, director Paul Thomas Anderson has explained in an interview(the same interview where the interviewer told Paul “it’d be a better movie if Freddie and The Master just fucked” lol) that The Master is “about romance, but it’s a romance that can’t work…Just looking in somebody’s eyes and thinking, ‘I know we’re meant to be but we can’t be.‘”(have made a photoset about that) From the first time they met, there’s a kind of weirdly romantic tone about their relationship: It’s love at the first sight, like they’ve already known each other for ages, and they wanted to save and be saved by each other. They’re being extremely protective of each other, and they unreservedly gave the best they’ve got to each other(Freddie gave The Master his loyalty and the poison, The Master gave Freddie the proper treatment which would help him back on the right path), and the last scene of The Master singing a farewell ballad to Freddie and them crying to that? Phew, so fucking romantic. Even the religion, the Cause way in the film has a romanticism way about it: Curing incurable diseases by going back beyond and correcting the past mistakes and errors is a very romantic thing. What is undeniable is that Paul made their relationship romantic on purpose for a reason, because he thinks it’s romantic, the idea of curing PTSD and the damage the war etched in people by a religion, by yoga practice, by diet, by anything like that which claims itself a cure for the horror and scars in people left by war, but he also knows that it can’t work. People cling to these romantic, sometimes over-romantic ideas of curing what war has left, but it just can’t, like two lovers looking each other in the eye whispering “I want you and I know we could save each other”, but that’s just daydreaming. The world is like Freddie, fucked up by that nasty and destructive war, no Masters could save him.

Hmm anyways, there’s endless stuff we can talk about when it comes to The Master, these two are the cornerstone. Mainly, this film is about the damage the war did, and the idealistic romance of curing this PTSD of society with all kinds of quixotic methods.