#i'm so lucky that my parents never forced me to eat anything i didn't like

[rayatii]

You know that trope in so many kids shows where one episode revolves around a character who refuses to eat something even tho they usually haven't tried it before, and everyone else tries to convince them to try it, until they relent and decide that they like said food?

Well, kid me used to despise these episodes (and I still feel iffy about them to this day); as someone who was (and still is!) a "picky eater", I took these kinds of episodes as a personal attack, bc I could/can usually tell what I will/won't like based on smell and texture (ye typical autistic stuff), and these episodes felt to me as if they were pointedly discrediting my daily game of "try not to puke".

I understand that there is a difference between not judging anything without trying it (which is a typical kid thing; I have definitely been guilty of that), and being forced to eat something which you can sense that you will despise. But little me didn't see the difference back then, so yeah.

(I think some of that ire was directed at an episode of the French cartoon Petit Potam, that I grew up with, in which the titular character complains about eating certain stuff for lunch (including but not limited to Brussels sprouts), because he'd rather eat his favorite dessert, and his parents are constantly ordering him angrily to clear his plate. At one point, he does put a bunch of Brussels sprouts in his mouth and complains about not liking it as he chews, and eventually spits everything on someone who happens to be visiting, and is grounded for it. But the thing is, by the end of the episode I don't think the main character decides on whether or not he's willing to eat "disgusting food" or whatever (or if it does, it's very vague to me), so I find it very intriguing now that I'm thinking about it.)

I wanna do something that subverts this trope in a way; a character says they don't want to try some food bc they're repulsed by the smell and/or texture. Everyone else around them insists that they just tRY iT, and they relent. About a minute after the character in question swallows a portion of said food (which they still don't like), they start feeling queasy, and then they puke everything out. Sometimes our stomach simply does not agree; it's in our DNA.

It's mind-blowing to me that some ADULT people are apparently still not aware of the difference between two situations I talked about earlier (being fussy for the sake of being fussy VS having actual sensory issues when it comes to food), bc I'm still in the process of de-conditioning myself from the vague notion that these shows instilled in me being a picky eater/not liking many foods/not always being willing to try new foods makes me a bad person of some sort (obviously they never say that outright, but it felt this way to me all the same), and from what I've seen, many autistic/neurodivergent people are having this same issue.

[hyunjinners]

✧:･ﾟSandwiches → Kim Sunoo 𝗑 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋 ˚₊· ꒰🥪꒱

꒰ 命 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 ꒱┊Sunoo likes to eat good sandwiches, but only the ones made by her best friend, but what happens when she's making them for another boy?

꒰ 命 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 ꒱┊Kim Sunoo x fem!reader

꒰ 命 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐄 ꒱┊lots of cuteness, jealousy, schoolgirl au, friends in love, Sunoo really wants Y/n only for himself.

꒰ 命 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 ꒱┊none

꒰ 命 𝐖.𝐂 ꒱┊2,1k

꒰ 命 𝐀/𝐍 ꒱┊I'm following the enha again, so I thought nothing better than doing a chapter about my bias :)

⊹₊˚ʚ❛masterlist❜ɞ

WHEN you ask anyone what food reminds them of their childhood, they will automatically remember something made by their grandparents or even their parents.

However, for Sunoo, when he talks about any food that reminds him of his childhood, he would instantly remember his best friend.

Y/n has always been an independent child, being that typical child who is praised for being so mature and has high expectations of being an incredible adult.

During elementary school, her parents worked full time and often weren't even able to take her to and from school. Thanks to this, she was kind of forced to mature prematurely, learning to take care of herself quickly.

So, from the age of eight, every single day she was responsible for making her own snack. Of course, for a child she had her limitations, so her mother made lunch.

All the elementary students were enchanted by their independence and had Y/n as the most mature figure in the school, earning daily praise from her classmates.

And this popularity quickly reached the ears of Sunoo, Y/n's childhood best friend. They had known each other since birth, complementing each other and never really being apart from each other for long. Their parents thought this was really cute, so they nurtured this friendship by allowing them to see each other even outside of school.

Sunoo was proud that his best friend was so popular and strong, saying with conviction wherever he went that she was the best friend of all and that he was very lucky to have her. As time went by, she decided to please Sunoo by making snacks for him too and he felt extremely special for being the only one who ate the snacks made by Y/n.

Time passed and Y/n continued to improve her culinary skills and when they were in high school, she knew how to make the most varied foods and was proud of it. One time she even had lunch at her house and invited Sunoo. He swore he had never smiled so much in one day.

Even though she is extremely talented in the kitchen, Sunoo's favorite dish is still the delicious and simple sandwiches she has made since she was little. He felt as if they had a special bond, as if that simple meal strengthened the bonds between Sunoo and Y/n.

And today was no different. Lunch time finally arrived and Sunoo eagerly left the classroom and practically ran down the hall after Y/n. Unfortunately they didn't have many classes together, but at least they had a whole break to talk about anything and everything.

He thoroughly searched the entire length of the school yard, a place where they usually met to eat together, but he couldn't find her anywhere. He inspected the place one last time and went to look in other areas of the school where she was usually located.

After a while, he noticed that the break was almost over. Sighing in disappointment, he walks to the cafeteria so he can at least eat something before the day ends.

❪ 🥪 ❫

The sun was almost setting when Y/n was anxiously waiting for Sunoo at the school gates. Looking at the students leaving, she finally spotted Sunoo and waved at him happily with both arms, being greeted by a warm smile coming from him.

─── Where have you been? I looked for you at lunch, but I couldn't find you anywhere.

Sunoo speaks in a fake disappointed tone, looking her up and down.

─── oh my God! I completely forgot to tell you, I'm sorry. Mrs. Choi assigned me to tutor a boy in my class, so we stayed late in the library. I ended up losing track of time and when I went to notice the break it was already over.

She explains herself as they walk to their homes side by side.

─── Ah, if that's the case... Then it's okay, I forgive you. But please don't ever do that to me again, if I have to eat cafeteria food one more time I swear I'll hunt for worms on the patio floor.

Y/n makes a disgusted face and lightly hits Sunoo on the shoulder.

─── ew! No need to exaggerate, right?

She laughs at Sunoo's exaggeration and he responds with his usual mocking eye roll.

─── Will you be at the library tomorrow too?

─── oh yes. Classes will only last for two more days.

❪ 🥪 ❫

Said and done, the next day, Sunoo wasted no time and ran to the library. The fact that he hadn't had lunch with her the day before left him frustrated, but at least now he could catch up on all the gossip he heard in the hallways and talk about events in his classroom.

He approaches the table where Y/n is happily sitting, but his smile gradually drops when he sees who is sitting next to her.

Lee Joonho.

Why just him?

Lee Joonho is another one of the classmates who grew up together with Sunoo and Y/n. The problem is that he had a crush on Y/n since elementary school. Sunoo still remembers the time Joonho called him to ask if he could give Y/n's number, as he was interested in her. He still remembers the desire to squeeze Joonho's neck.

As he denied Joonho's request, the two never really understood each other again, forming a feeling of mutual hatred. Just imagining what Joonho was thinking when he was alone with you inside the library made Sunoo's blood boil with anger. I mean, he's also a man, so he has an idea of what's going on in other people's heads.

Having no idea what's going on, Y/n smiles happily as she sees Sunoo approaching, but she barely notices the discomfort evident on his face.

─── I'm glad you're here, Sunoo! I think you probably already know Joonho, so I don't think it's necessary to introduce them, right?

Sunoo sits right in front of them, staring deadly at Joonho, who just returns the look.

─── Yes, I know.

With a sinister smile, Joonho feigns affinity by responding in a forced tone of sympathy.

─── I think it's cute that you're still friends after so long. I really thought you guys would stop talking to each other in high school.

He rests his hand on Y/n's shoulder, affectionately stroking the area, but she doesn't seem to feel discomfort or really understand the real intentions behind that touch.

Sunoo closes his fists, pressing the sides of the chair where he is sitting. He wanted to hide his anger just to not make Y/n uncomfortable, but it was really hard not to make it obvious.

Who does he think he is? And why is he so close? Did he come to study or take advantage of sweet and affectionate girls?

Despite the anger in his thoughts, he tries to appear as calm as possible.

─── I think we like each other too much to just stay away.

Sunoo responds sarcastically, almost happy to feel victorious when he sees the anger behind Joonho's eyes.

─── right, boys. What do you think we eat now? That's why you came here, isn't it, Sunoo?

Sunoo's gaze softens as it rests on Y/n's cheerful figure. He nods and adjusts his posture so he can eat properly.

Taking the sandwiches from inside her cooler bag, Y/n takes out the sandwiches and Sunoo couldn't help but notice that she didn't make one more for Joonho. He smiles victoriously, gratefully taking the sandwich Y/n handed him, delighting in the first bite he took.

Sunoo's breath hitches in his throat when he sees her breaking the sandwich and giving the other half to Joonho. He starts coughing, almost choking, and doesn't miss his opponent's discreet smile.

─── Oh my God! Sunnie, are you okay?

His stomach might actually turn in a good way when he hears the old, gentle nickname she affectionately calls him, but the surprise at seeing her share the sandwich with that little piece of shit overcame any and all feelings.

Y/n grabs her water bottle, sharing the contents with Sunoo, worried in case he seriously chokes. He drinks the water quickly, and he definitely doesn't know whether the shortness of breath he feels is because of his surprise or because he drank the water so quickly that he barely had time to breathe.

─── Do you feel better?

At this point in the championship, Y/n came around the table, gently patting Sunoo on the back in a somewhat futile attempt to help him. Sunoo just stares at her with wide surprised eyes, then he stands up and grabs her hand.

─── we need to talk. Now.

─── but-

With no room for further complaints, he pulls her outside the library, a little flustered, but maintaining his usual gentle touch.

─── Look, you- you can only…

He runs a hand through his hair completely nervously, standing in front of her with his head down. He can swear it must feel like a bit at this point, so he takes a deep breath to try and calm himself.

─── why did you do that?

─── hmm? Sunoo… I don't understand anything. Are you well?

Her face is clearly filled with confusion and only now does he realize that maybe, just maybe, he had exaggerated a little. He wanted to hit himself right now.

─── Look, I'm sorry, but... who does that little shit think he is? First, he clearly arranged to take these extra classes with you, since obviously the teacher would ask you to explain the material to him because, obviously, You are the smartest and sweetest girl this school has, as well as being very understanding.

Sunoo raises her voice a little, not really caring about it right now. In fact, he wasn't rational at all right now.

─── and now, I am simply forced to see you sharing the sandwich that we always eat together with him? I mean, I know this sounds stupid, but to me it's not. This is very special to me. You are special to me, and so much! So he has no right to steal this from me.

The fast pace of Sunoo's voice matches your heartbeat. His thoughts were racing and he made every effort to think straight about what he said. When he finished speaking, his breathing was completely unregulated.

Once again in that short period of time, Sunoo is caught off guard by his own actions and words, embarrassment taking him over.

─── Are you… are you done, Sunoo?

He doesn't respond, just looking away embarrassed. Gently, she holds Sunoo's hand with one hand and rests the other on his cheek. Leaning forward a little and placing herself on tiptoe, she places a tender kiss on his cheek.

─── you don't have to be like this just because I shared a sandwich with him. But, if it's any consolation, he would never be able to fill the important role you play in my life, Sunoo. You are the only one for me.

He looks at her in amazement, feeling the phantom touch of the kiss that was just left on his cheek.

───… friends shouldn't say things like that to each other, Y/n.

For a second, he could see a flash of disappointment in her eyes. But then he smiles his usual radiant and contagious smile, returning the affectionate touch on her cheek.

─── but particularly? I don't want us to be just friends. I want to be able to love you the right way, the way I always did.

He wraps his arms around her, where she comfortably rests her head on his chest.

─── so let's make it happen.

⊹₊˚ʚ❛original by: @hyunjinners . like × reblog .❜ɞ

[grimgoregrimoire]

I'm sick of hearing; "Writing is a refreshing way to cleanse your mind and put you onto a better path."

Babes, this path may have been paved with good intentions, but it was recently patched up with glass shards and used needles.

Also I haven't slept in three days, so here's a list of other bullshit I'm sick of bitches saying to writers.

So much for refreshing.

☆.𓋼𓍊 𓆏 𓍊𓋼𓍊.☆

Feckin Friday 22/03/24

🐈‍⬛️ 1. "Write what you know."

Okay, yes! You shouldn't bullshit your entire book, but also, don't be confined to only what you know. Do you think I know anything about corpse reanimation? Whelp, that didn't stop me! It's good to learn something new, and it's great for your writing to expand your repertoire. Hell, who knows? You might find your new niche. Besides, research is your best friend.

🦇 2. "But my friend, cousin, neighbor, cat's best friend's sister in law's spouse wrote their book in (a ridiculous small amount of time)!"

Well, good for them! They're still going to get slingshot into the sun with the rest of us anyway. Not everybody is the same, and the only thing that ALL writers have in common is that they write things! Find what works for you and tune out the rest of the bullshit, including your own. Don't bully yourself for not writing! We are only on this earth for a very small amount of time. Take care of yourself!

🐦‍⬛ 3. "You have to have a plan/outline/entire plot done before you start writing!"

This is just *ugh* bullshit. Like yeah, sure, if you're a normal person, I guess plot it! But you know what? I've got an illiterate, hyperactive squirrel behind the control panel of my brain, and he's on his sixth line of coke. All I have to say to this is JUST WRITE it'll either all come together when you go over it later or it will be cut. Either way, it's putting words on the page, and that's great practice.

🕷 4. "Writing is your only job, and you have to treat it as such."

Gross. Look, even if someone is lucky enough to be able to write as a full-time job, I guarantee you that writing isn't all that person has does.

A lot of us are parents or keep our houses, most of us are still in school, and a majority of us have to work at least part-time to afford to write!

Writing should be treated as a job in such a way that you take pride in it, but it shouldn't be something you're forced to do.

You know how people say, "If you love what you do, you never work a day."

There ya go.

🕸 5. "Follow this plan!" / "Writing’s easy!"

I have three things to say to that.

Bite me, bite me, bite me, BITE ME.

Look, I am so glad that Stephen King smokes three blunts and eats a pile of shrooms as a part of his routine, I AM SO HAPPY THAT WORKS FOR HIM! But it's not gonna work for me and it's probably not going to work for your poor stressed out little writer friend who is six months behind on sleep and is trying to catch up with shots of espresso and tall boys of redbull. We know you mean well, and we really appreciate hearing new things to try. Don't get that twisted! But I'm sorry, there is just no gospel or quick fix to writing.

What's some other shit you're sick of hearing people say? Come on! Let's trauma bond!

[nighterwriter]

Trick-or-Treat

Jason Todd x fem!reader

Word Count: 577

A/N: Happy Halloween! I put fem!reader, but honestly, anyone can dress up as the bride of Frankenstein.

Also, thank you to @snips-501 for the idea!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"You owe me big time, Todd."

"Shut up and smile."

Damian pouted as Jason's eyes searched for you in the throng of excited children being held back by their parents. Last week at the manor, you'd casually revealed that you had never gone trick-or-treating as a kid and then made the mistake of placating the group of vigilantes by saying that you had never celebrated Halloween at all. It wasn't a big deal - that's what you would tell yourself to cope - and now, you were too old for trick or treating.

The group didn't accept your mediocre excuses and planned activity after activity on the week of Halloween. Pumpkin carving, scary movies, holiday-themed treats, everything and anything that was associated with the spooky day, you had done. Except for the one you had wanted to do the most, the one that made you jealous of the other kids that came to school with their earnings: trick-or-treating.

You'd waved off everyone's potential solutions to the missed opportunity, citing the social age limit as the reason for your dismissal, but your boyfriend was one stubborn bastard. The week before Halloween, he all but held a gun to Damian's head and forced him to call and ask if you'd like to 'supervise' his trick-or-treating rounds in the neighborhood - the one where fun-size candies were non-existent and frowned upon. You had agreed with restrained excitement with the idea that you'd been helping Damian and being able to see what you missed out on, which is what Jason had planned.

He raised his hand and smiled when he saw you weaving through the crowd, kissing you when you finally managed to squeeze through a large party.

"Child, Todd, I am a child, I shouldn't be subjected to these horrors."

"Sorry, Dr. Dolittle." You teased, fixing Damian's crooked tie and stethoscope.

"You didn't dress up." Jason frowned, motioning to the green face paint and fake stitching and bolts he had attached to himself.

"Yeah I thought about it, but all the stores were out of good costumes and it was too late to make anything. I shouldn't even dress up, I'm a chaperone-"

"Hey," Jason grabbed your chin softly to cut your sheepish rambling off, "I've got a costume in the car, let's go get you changed. Just 'cause you're an adult, it doesn't mean you can't do fun things. And I'll be damned if I let you miss out on your first trick-or-treat. Okay?"

"Okay." You murmured, kissing his hand as he pulled it away.

"You would've had the option of being one of my patients, but Todd insisted on you becoming the Bride of Frankenstein."

"Really?" Your boyfriend's cheeks darkened as you slid an arm around his waist and put it in his jacket pocket.

"So much so that he had the costume ordered last month-"

"Shut it twerp, or I'm eating all your Skittles."

"I thought you preferred chocolate."

"Yeah, but I know you like 'em."

"I see you're not weary of committing child abuse."

As the boys continued to bicker in the midst of trying to plan the route of the night, you couldn't help but smile to yourself. How you got lucky with a boyfriend like Jason and a family like the batfamily, you didn't know. All you knew was that if the neighbors were kind enough to give you some candy as well, you'd give Damian as many as Jason ate. It was truly a happy Halloween.

[anotherrosesthatfell]

A deal with you - Part 1

[Summary: What happened before PJ and Gradient death]

"Mommy I'm still hungry..." Merciless pouted.

He just ate a tiny piece of bread, at least it's a lot than the last time.

"I know sweetie." Said Killer as she kissed her son forehead. "Just be patience, once that evil guy is out. You'll be able to eat as much as you want!"

"Really?" Smile Merciless. "I wanna eat cereal, a lot of cereal!" Said Merciless. "I got to talk to brother today and he said he got cereal for breakfast."

"That's nice sweetie..." Killer patted her son head. "Now about you go to sleep so the hunger will stop."

"Okay!" Merciless nodded his head as he lay on Killer's lap.

Right, this is Merciless room. He was mistreated badly.. He don't even has a bed or window to look out. It's more like a prison cell instead of room for 5 years old.

Killer got lucky today for being able to stay next to Merciless. The guards usually will force her to leave or some maids will injured her.

"Mommy, will I be able to meet tiny baby sissy soon?" asked Merciless. "How long will she be in your belly?"

"Hmm? Merciless, we don't know if the baby is a girl or boy yet..." Killer slightly chuckles. "You have to be quiet about this, don't let anyone hear us."

*BAM!!*

A loud voice coming from the outside, it's Nightmare.

"Merciless, quick hide!" Killer grabbed her son by hand and make him hide under the bed. "Don't come out unless that evil guy is gone... Okay?" Her voice trembled in fears.

"M-Mom—"

The door was opened at once. Nightmare seems upset...

"Just the hell you were doing in this rat's room." he groans.

Nightmare went to Killer and forcefully grabbed her by wrist. That'll leave some bruise...

Killer stay silence, she can't say anything right now. If she do, things will get worse.

Merciless watched Nightmare took Killer away in horror. He is horrified of his own father.

As they were away from Merciless room. Angst were reading behind the pillar quietly, he unlike Crescent, remember how much Killer love her children. Angst always try to find a way to talk to Killer quietly.

But today was different, Nightmare was grabbing Killer and now he threw her on the floor.

Angst saw the scene as he hid behind the pillar. He have to do something, but he know if he interfere, not only Killer but all of his siblings will get hurt.

"You damned woman. How many time I have to tell you to listen to me!" Yelled Nightmare. Nightmare then grabbed Killer hair and make her face him. "First that damned destroyer purposely pissed me off and now you?" he laughed. "You people truly trying to—"

*Bonk!*

A duck toy was threw on Nightmare's head. It was Crescent who did it.

"F-Father, don't touch my mom like that!" Crescent slightly raised his voice.

He is terrified to see his parents are fighting. Killer is more horrified about this situation now. She take any abuse as long Nightmare don't touch her children..

Nightmare cracked a smile and his eyes were dark. He slowly let go of Killer's hair.

"Crescent, my son... This is adult business." Said Nightmare. Just then, his tendril are choking Crescent now. "You know what happens when rats like you interfere hmm?"

"NO—!" Killer grabbed Nightmare arm. "Please let go of my baby, he didn't know. I SWEAR I'LL NEVER VISIT MERCILESS AGAIN." She cries.

Nightmare look unimpressed, he doesn't want to change his mind.

"Boss!" Cross finally came back to the castle. "Let go of him. He is your son remember?! You want a heir don't you?" Cross keep his cool, trying not to show he is nervous.

"What's the use of having a heir if this rat all know to interfere adult business?" glares Nightmare.

"That's because he's a child.. We- I can educate him how to not be like this anymore so let him go.." Said Cross.

It was a silent for couple of seconds. Nightmare let go of Crescent at last.

Killer caught Crescent before his head his the ground.

"Tch..." scoffed Nightmare. "I better see you in my office in few minutes, Killer." Nightmare walked away as he didn't bother to glance back.

Crescent is still breathing, Killer couldn't be more thankful to God. Angst stop hiding behind the pillar as he immediately went to Killer.

"Mom...!" he cried.

"I'm here honey... I'm here." she smiles gently to her son. Not wanting to worry him.

Cross sighed as he look over the mess. He carry Crescent on his arms and say

"I'll heal him up." Said Cross. "I'll apply some ointment for you later... Okay?"

"Okay..." smiles Killer. "Angst, go with mister Cross." Said Killer.

"Alright mom..." he nodded and follow Cross from behind.

All the servants was watching. They are laughing on how miserable Killer is...

And now she have to face Nightmare again....

[bogginswritings]

Sleepless Nights for the Damned || Percival de Rolo x fem!reader

I'm sorry for my absence. I didn't write anything here in the last like 9 months. Writers block and school were killing me. I hope this can make up for it a little bit, but don't expect too much. I practically forced this out. (I love Percy smsm)

Pairing: Percy de Rolo x fem!reader/oc

Summary: The nights were the hardest for Percy. When his mind could wander because his hands aren't preoccupied with anything. He was lucky now, though. He had her.

Warning(s): Mentions of past trauma, Percy's backstory, angst and comfort, panic attacks (Percy)

(idk who posted the GIF, I'm sorry)

Percy wasn’t entirely sure what he looked like anymore. 

He had mirrors, of course, but the reflection didn't always look familiar. He didn’t really know what he was supposed to look like, anymore. Would he have looked like this if his childhood would keep going as it did; happy and joyful? Would the dark circles not be under his eyes? Would he not have the white hair, but rather the brown locks he always had?

He didn't know. But it seemed common, to no longer recognize himself. Wandering alone for years in the need of vengeance, a routine of eating rotten bread from trash cans and stealing apples on the market just so his stomach wouldn't complain; one could say this changes a man.

Percy met a group, and he came up with the name Vox Machina. While this was somewhat stable, he was far from happy. He wasn't even entirely sure why, because he had great and caring friends now. His stomach was always full with food that hadn't already gone bad for at least two days. Sure, the jobs they did to earn some coin wasn't always 'ethical’, per se; but it kept them going just fine. Percy wasn't happy, but he was content. As content as he could get, anyway, for the desire of revenge still lingered and nightmares took over his sleep.

Sometimes he’d kill the Briarwoods in said nightmares,  though maybe those should be considered dreams, he didn't know where they came from. Even during the day he thought about it, a gnawing feeling of pure anger taking over his entire being. He had episodes like this, they’ve become more frequent, though Percy was not entirely sure where they came from. Sure, he was so pissed no word in the English language was enough to describe it, but he didn’t think that a feeling of rage would consume his entire being.

No friend could make this better. No one was there at night to comfort him. They didn't understand. He couldn't blame them, he never told them. It wasn't fair to put a weight like that on their shoulders, to trauma dump when they all have so much to deal with already.

Percy felt hopeless, to be quite honest. Especially when he woke up in a cold sweat and had no one to go to. When he had a bad dream as a kid he would just slide in with his parents, now he waited in bed hoping to fall asleep again or at least have his body get the rest. Sometimes he was just extremely mad when he woke up in the middle of the night, and he’d get to his workshop to tinker.

It was always the same, and it felt like a routine. Just like it was routine for Vex to check Trinket’s teeth and Grog to clean his weapons. However, this was a routine he didn’t participate in voluntarily and he couldn’t get out of.

Once again his eyes snapped open, his breathing heavy. It felt like he had to lift up a brick from his chest with every breath in. Percy shot up, sitting upright to try and shake off that horrible feeling. The feeling he was going to pass out from a lack of air. The feeling he was dying. He tried to stay quiet, but a whimper slipped past his lips. He did his best to muffle it, to be silent. Usually he wouldn’t have to worry about it too much, but usually he was alone in his bed. He didn’t share it with someone.

His body got a shock from another stifled sob. Percy could feel this was going to be a bad ride, one he had to let wash over him. Wave after wave until the storm calmed and it passed. They seemed to be more frequent and during the day it fueled his being more and more with wrath and a desire to kill the Briarwoods. Percy didn’t just want to kill them, he wanted to hurt them. He needed them to feel all the sadness and anger he has felt and-

He tried to take a deep breath, to not spiral into there. Right now he just had an intense feeling of fear and panic he didn’t know how to control.

A gentle touch on his shoulder, the weight on the bed next to him dipping. “Darling?” her gentle voice rang through his ears. He couldn't register everything quickly, but she'd sat up too; one hand resting on his thigh whilst the one his shoulder started rubbing circles.

This was the first time Percy had woken her up with it. Though, to be fair, they had only started sleeping in one bed for a week or so. He knew he probably should have warned her beforehand that this could happen- would happen, but everytime he tried an itch in his throat stopped him. God, he felt like such an asshole waking her up, and that only added up to the bad feeling of guilt he had.

“I-” he swallowed, his eyes darted around the room to find something to focus on, “I’m sorry.”

“Look at me, Percy,” Her voice was soothing, “Focus on me.” He did. It took a while, her words still getting processed in his brain, but he did. Her heart broke when she saw his wobbling lips,  “Good, take a deep breath with me.”

Percy tried, he really did, but it just wouldn't. It caused him to fall into more of a panic, his breathing turning rigid. She asked him for something so simple and he couldn't do it. “I-I can’t- I can't-” Her hand moved away from his thigh, but before Percy could start crying because ‘she was definitely leaving’, it came back on his chest. “I’m here. Can you lift my hand?” She asked, and she took deep, loud drags of air to demonstrate. It took a while, but he managed to lift it slightly. And then some more. “Good job,” Her hand moved lower, resting on his abdomen, “And now? I need you to breathe through your stomach.” Percy remembered she did it with herself sometimes too, a hand on her belly before they went into battle. He understood why now, because once he managed to lift her hand it actually felt like air was going inside his lungs for the first time in the last- what, five minutes? It took a little while before it became a rhythm to breathe like that, but it helped.

The hand on his shoulder had moved to hold his face, he didn’t know when that happened, but he only noticed it just now. The feeling was nice. “Better?” She asked, and he nodded, “Good.” She gave him a kind smile, and Percy just didn’t know what he did to deserve her. She knew exactly what to do, and she didn’t even know what this was about. If the woman was honest, though, she expected it to be about the dragon at first. An intense experience they went through. But they’ve been through worse, and it didn’t seem to have bothered the man before. Nonetheless, she caressed his cheek and held him. Percy never had someone comfort him like this, but he knew he liked it. “We can get out of bed for a bit, get that busy mind of yours on something else for a while?”

“I’d like that.”

And so here they were, at the table of the shared household of Vox Machina. Two mugs of tea stood in between them, still steaming and too hot to drink. They didn’t say anything, Percy was too lost in thought and she waited for him to figure it out. “I’m sorry.” It broke the silence after a while. The woman gave him a look, not one that ridiculed him; rather one that asked why he would say that, “You shouldn’t be.”

“But I am, I’ve woken you up. I should at least have had the decency to warn you about it.”

“Does it happen often?” She asked, worry etched into her voice. She always assumed the dark circles under his eyes were from late nights in his workshop, like the others. He was a workaholic after all. She didn't think there was more behind it. She felt horrible for not asking him, to make sure. “It does,” Percy said, “I should’ve said something, I’m sorry this is pushed onto you.”

“Stop apologizing,” she dipped her finger into the tea, deciding it was cooled down enough to drink, “That’s what partners are for, if you don’t get that comfort then what kinda relationship do you have. Would you have gotten mad at me?” He shook his head, even though he knew it was rhetorical, “Exactly.” She took a sip, Percy following soon after, “If you ever need to talk about it, I’m here for you. And if you don’t that is okay, too. I’ll still be right by your side.”

“I want to talk about it- I do, I tried.”

“Take your time, Percy,” she reassured, “We aren’t in a hurry. When you’re ready I’ll be here.”

He nodded, sending her an appreciative smile, “I promise I will be. Later.”

“Later,” she affirmed, and they drank the rest of their mugs in silence.

…

“I just remembered we have that dinner at Uriel’s,” They were back in bed, the woman playing with Percy’s hair as his head was tucked under her chin. They didn’t cuddle often, but this felt nice, “You excited?” She felt him nod, “Though I’d be more excited if Grog remembered his manners.” She snorted at his response, but she couldn’t find it in her to disagree.

“I can’t wait to have a change of scenery. Fancy foods,” she gushed, “and fancy drinks.”

“It’ll be good for us, to get some respect as Vox Machina,” Percy said, “It could get us better jobs.” She hummed in acknowledgement. That would be nice. She kissed the top of his head, “We should probably sleep then, to look presentable and all.”

“I always look presentable.”

The woman snorted, “You sure do, goodnight.”

“Goodnight.”

That night was the first in a while where Percy felt safe.

Alrightie, hope you enjoyed!

[lila-rae]

My parents worked with fear and authoritarianism with me and my siblings and I can say it didn't work, this is why I'm doing so much research on how to deal with kids, I'm honestly so scared that I will end up like them but I've worked on my anger issues for years now. Really curious on how you deal with your children of different age groups when they do something wrong? I honestly am going to try to stop the wrong parenting my family has been doing for years now.

So I’m lucky in that my own parents didn’t hit me but they definitely had some questionable parenting practices I’ve had to come to terms with in therapy and then had to let them know how what they did was harmful, and how it wouldn’t be tolerated when they watch my own children.

Our general philosophy for parenting is our children are fully human and deserving on respect in how we interact with them in all things. We rely a lot on natural consequences. If you get mad and throw your toy, the toy is gone. If you decide to yell and scream at mommy, you can wait until you calm down and speak with respect to receive a response. If you refuse to come in from the back yard or refuse to leave the park, it might mean we can’t do those things for awhile until we see you’ll be able to leave when we ask.

It’s also a lot of picking your battles. I’m not going to get into the food wars my parents did with us at dinner time. We serve food (that we know they will eat) but if they don’t they’re always free to find something they will in the fridge or pantry. Because let’s be real no one forces you as an adult to eat food you’re not in the mood for. I’m not forcing anyone to make their beds we only expect their rooms be clear of clutter from the floor because it’s a safety hazard and we take the time to explain that to them. Hygiene isn’t negotiable but we discuss it in regards to medical safety.

It takes a lot of patience and being willing to talk to them about everything you’re asking them to do instead of falling back on “because I said so”.

Our first child is also Autistic so early on we learned we had to explain things to him so that he would comply because if he doesn’t understand why he’s being asked to do anything he’ll shut down. If it’s something that involves safety, we have a code word, and it means you need to listen right now so mommy and daddy can keep you safe but we will talk as soon as we can and explain. And we don’t abuse that so he knows when we say it we mean it.

I know we don’t always get it right, and we’ve had to apologize to our kids and seek their forgiveness when we get it wrong. Something that my parents never did.

[thebrotherscurtis]

"Brother’s Day”

Links: A03. FF.net. Wattpad.

Disclaimer: S.E. Hinton owns all characters.

Summary: Oneshot. Four reasons Darry thinks he is a lousy father to Pony.

I. You know fuck all about raising a teenage kid.

Small children tend to their toys better than you play parent, and sometimes the day-to-day questions torment you the most.

For the sixth morning in a row, Pony shovels a giant slice of cake on his plate. Should he really eat sweets for breakfast, lunch, and dinner?

"Maybe you oughta have some eggs or bacon. Look at you, you're skin and bone. People'll think I ain't feeding you. Fix yourself something else, anything else."

"You never gave a shit before." He shrugs and jabs his fork into a second piece; on purpose, too, because he usually only takes one. "Why now?"

"I mean, in addition to cake."

"If I wanted eggs and bacon, I'd've made eggs and bacon."

"Look, alls I'm saying is it wouldn't kill you to eat a little protein. My football coach would've force fed me liver if I ate the shit you do every day. Your track coach, what's-his-name, Mr. James? Jones? Jenkins?"

"Jacobs."

"Mr. Jacobs'd hate this, and you know it."

"Well"—he glances around the room and shrugs—"Mr. Jacobs ain't here, so I'm eating cake today, tomorrow, the next day, and the day after that, too."

And this is the part where you ask yourself if it's worth the fight. Pick your battles, as your old man used to say. Still, your inner critic scolds you. Maybe this is the fight that's worth it. Maybe a normal parent wouldn't give up so damn early. Maybe a real father would shove a pound of bacon in his face and keep him at the table until he ate it all.

"Cake it is then. But you're eating a real lunch."

"Uh-huh."

He won't. He'll devour the rest of the pan just to spite you.

II. You're lucky as shit he's your brother, and yet, you never appreciate it.

Curly's back in the reformatory, and your kid brother's idea of rebellion is reading all of Gone With the fucking Wind instead of cleaning his room.

"I swear on the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost, I'll lock you in here till I can see the floor."

"Go ahead." He turns a page. "I'm at the best part. I ain't going nowhere."

You roll your eyes and slam the door on your way out.

Soda's on the couch, laughing his ass off. "Wait. You really thought you could pull him away from his favorite book?"

"Shut up. It's your room too. Could just as soon lock you in there too."

"But you won't."

"But you won't," you mock, sinking into the armchair.

He's right, you won't.

And deep down, you know you're lucky. Compared to Curly, Dallas, Steve, Two-Bit, Soda, you—God weren't you a delight at fourteen—he's pretty damn well-behaved for a teenager.

And somehow still too much for you to handle.

III. You get so mad at him you scare yourself.

Yell over talk. Threaten over teach. React over respond. Every time he checks into the Twilight Zone, you lose your shit. If he'd just pay attention … If he'd just keep his brain on planet Earth …

"I'm working a double," you tell your brothers, and brothers plural. "Won't be back till late, so y'all are on your own for dinner."

Soda salutes you. "Aye-aye, Superman."

Pony idly looks up from his book. "Huh?"

"You tell me."

"Tell you what?"

"You tell me," you repeat, fists clenched. "Word for word, tell me what I just fucking said."

"Yeah, yeah, I'll clean my room before you get home."

"That ain't what I said."

"Sorry." His nose is already back in that damn book. "Guess I didn't hear you."

Sorry this. Sorry that. I didn't hear you this. I wasn't thinking that.

Count to ten. Like Soda says, count. to. ten. One, two … don't say anything … three, four … don't do anything … five, six, Soda heard you and'll repeat it the second you're gone … seven … but when Soda says it, he'll listen … eight … goddamn kid never listens to you … nine—

You rip the book from his hands and hurl it on the floor. "I said I won't be home till late."

"Easy, man." Soda smacks your arm and steps in front of Pony. "It ain't a big deal."

Pony retrieves the book and stomps off to his room. He flips you the bird, and you return the gesture.

Soda's right. It ain't a big deal. Logically, you know that, but the side of the brain that knows can't get the other to calm the fuck down.

It ain't Pony's fault you're pulling a double shift. It ain't Pony's fault you haven't slept a full night since the accident. It ain't Pony's fault you're an asshole. "Pony," you call out to his closed door, "if you wanna smoke more than a pack today, go ahead."

If he hears you, it's a peace offering. If he doesn't, well, good.

IV: He considers your feelings, but you can't make sense of his.

"Happy Brother's Day, I guess." Pony shoves a hand-drawn card in front of you. "I know you ain't Dad, but still thought I should do something."

You open it and can't even register or digest the words. They span the entire card, and he probably put a thousand times more thought into them than you did his birthday gift.

"Thank you." You shoot up and wrap both arms around him tight. Thank you is all you can produce. He's the wordsmith of the family, not you.

"Jesus, don't crush me. You trying to kill me?"

"Nah, not today at least." You let go and gently pat his back. "Listen, you're an all right kid, Pony. I mean that. Ignore me when I tell you otherwise."

"Yeah, okay." Now he can't find his words. "I mean thanks." Face beet red, he moves to slink away just as fast as he'd slipped the card in front of you.

"Hey, wait." You sling an arm around his shoulder and pull him back. "Wanna go to Dairy Queen or a movie or something? I mean, for Father— Brother's Day. I got the day off."

"They aren't open on Sundays."

Shit. So much for that.

"But next time you time got the day off"— he leans into the embrace—"I'd like that."

He can read you like he reads his books, and you, you'll never find the right way you say you love him.

So instead, you'll suffer through one of his movies to show him you love him.

And you do love him.

Just as a brother.

You'll never be his father.

[pigeonwhumps]

Contract 2

Bug and Company masterlist

Taglist: @littlespacecastle @whumpymirages @flowersarefreetherapy @painful-pooch @whumplr-reader

Introducing Bug's primary handler.

696 words

CWs: BBU, pet whump, whumper pov, creepy whumper, sadistic whumper (sadism only mentioned), dehumanisation, institutional pet whump, mentions of breaking people, mentions of torture

Bill jerks awake when the papers slap him in the chest.

"I wasn't asleep, and they're secure anyway," he murmurs. Then he sees who's standing over him and scrambles backwards. "Shaniqua. You're 134U's primary?"

"The one and only." She smirks down at him. "You're lucky it is me. Sleeping on the job? What would people think?"

Bill shrugs. "The paperwork's finished, this sofa's comfortable, and the new pet isn't doing anything interesting."

"I didn't think you'd have finished staring at their tits yet. Apparently, I was wrong."

"You were. I mean they're cute, and their tits are gorgeous, but there's not enough fear there yet. There's only so long you can watch a pet stay in one place when you're unable to do anything to them."

"You should become a handler. We'd love to have you."

"But then I wouldn't get to watch the intake. That's the fun part, especially with defiant ones. Getting to watch their fear and resignation."

"Oh yeah, that reminds me." She whistles sharply. "726E, heel."

A young man trots into the room carrying two plates of food and a jug of water. Bill raises an eyebrow. Shaniqua doesn't usually eat while she works.

"The nachos are for you. And you'll see what I'm doing with the rest of it. 726E, place everything on the coffee table."

726E obeys, then kneels gracefully at Shaniqua's feet. She ruffles his hair.

"Good boy."

Bill remembers this one, he thinks. One of his most defiant intakes initially, but so quick to snap like a twig at the first hint of pain.

"Entertainment class, huh? What tricks can he do?"

Shaniqua grins. "Roll over. Play dead. Freeze."

The pet freezes like a statue, one arm and a leg in the air.

"Okay, back to default."

He moves back to a knelt position at Shaniqua's feet.

"You've done wonders on him," says Bill admiringly. "Final test today?" Shaniqua nods. "How do I help? Surprisingly, my shift has never actually ended up coinciding with one before."

She chucks a mostly-full notebook onto his lap. "Stay with him while he watches the new intake, and write down whenever he has any sort of reaction to it. I need to make sure they're in line with what his prospective wants."

"Gotcha. Can I play with him?"

"Later. If you promise to be extra good in bed tonight."

Bill grins, already relishing the thought of both. "Now that's a deal I can get behind."

"Excellent." She pats the carpet at Bill's feet, and 726E crawls over, kneeling there instead. Then she wanders over to the intake room (plate and jug in hand) and peers through the floor-to-ceiling window at the new pet. "Certainly cute. Good call on the hair, by the way. I'm surprised though. That's a lot of restraints, even for you. Your manipulation skills going?"

"The information their foster parents gave was sparse, and they don't have a lot that I can guess they care about. Brute force was the best way to go."

Shaniqua whistles lowly. "Okay, yeah, I get it. Not so easy to use that. Wow. I feel like I'm gonna have a lot of fun with them."

Bill chuckles. He knows she enjoys using the more advanced methods to break and rebuild pets, that's why she did extra training, but she doesn't always get much of a chance.

"Just... I don't know, be a little careful? We spent a lot of money on them. You remember how long you had to spend training on X-designated pets before you learned where to stop."

Shaniqua flips him off without looking, and he smiles. She gets irritated by him constantly bringing that up, but it's true. She probably has the highest track record of Xs entirely destroyed. It's a good thing that's why they keep them.

Shaniqua squares her shoulders, grins, and saunters into the intake room. The door locks automatically with a quiet snick, a sound all pets learn to be afraid of.

He picks up a cheese-covered nacho and pops it in his mouth, nudging the pet at his feet to make sure he's in his peripheral vision. Now to sit back and enjoy the show.

[radishhqueen]

i know I've talked about it a few times on the internet in passing, but i have an eating disorder called ARFID (Avoidant Restrictive Food Intake Disorder). kinda does what it says on the tin. every ARFID-haver has a different experience, with different bad foods and safe foods, and for different reasons, but it mostly boils down to avoiding eating for reasons related to 1) bad textures 2) fear of vomiting/getting sick and/or 3) just a general lack of interest.

buzzfeed just published an article yesterday detailing a bit more about ARFID and some quotes from some individuals who have it. since it wasn't added to the DSM until 2013, it's still not widely known about. i didn't have a name for the thing that framed my whole relationship with food until 2020! it would mean a lot to me if people could take the time to read the article and maybe share it around. :)

a little bit about my experiences with ARFID below the cut:

tl;dr: the more people are aware of ARFID, the more likely people are to get helped. more info on the r/ARFID subreddit. if this sounds like you, you're not the only one going through this!

I'm very lucky in the sense that I've gotten a lot better at eating since i was a kid. most of my problems with food are related to texture, and my bad textures pretty much rule out all meats, fish, poultry, and a lot of mushy things, like mashed potatoes and cooked onions. these textures make up a lot of my region's cultural foods, so growing up i had a solid 10-15 foods that i could reliably eat, and i started showing signs of ARFID as soon as my parents started giving me solid foods.

i was accused as a kid of being a picky eater, and was told I'd grow out of it. the thing is: i desperately wanted to be able to eat normally! i wanted to be able to eat whatever my family cooked, or go over to a friend's house without being scared of what was for dinner! but if i tried to eat anything with a "bad texture", I'd end up gagging and eventually throwing up. this is not pleasant for anyone involved. this quickly turned into an aversion to trying new things, as i was scared of gagging and the annoyance of the people around me.

throughout all of this, i never met anyone who had similar issues to me. adults in my life would compare it to how they didn't like XYZ food as a child, but eventually got over it. i kept waiting for the magic switch in my brain to flip over, and it didn't. i had a lot of mental health issues as a kid unrelated to food, but the shame and loneliness i felt around eating certainly did not help.

the magic switch in my brain never flipped. it still hasn't. what did change was I moved out and suddenly had complete control over my own diet. for the first time, i didn't have to force myself to try to eat food without throwing up. my friends in college didn't even know about my extensive issues with food until i told them. but once I had that judgment free space, i was able to push at those boundaries that had been encroaching, and become more and more comfortable with a wider variety of foods.

nowadays, i don't worry about going to restaurants or eating at other people's houses. i still don't eat meat, poultry, or fish. I still can't eat a lot of mushy foods. what changed was suddenly having the space to accept my eating for what it was, and be okay with failing to eat new things. increased anxiety due to the pandemic and y'know. the world. has definitely made food a lot more difficult for me again, but this time i have the support of a community behind me, and it makes a world of difference.

i have to emphasize, throughout all of this i was incredibly lonely. i didn't have the words to describe what i was going through. food has a huge cultural importance, and it was something that i felt disconnected from. i can't blame my parents, because they thought they were doing the right thing, and there was absolutely no guidance on this sort of thing. again: ARFID wasn't added to the DSM until 2013. it is still not widely known about. i have never had a doctor that has already known about ARFID, and i have bounced between a lot of doctors.

if any of this resonates with you, there's an active community on the r/ARFID subreddit. i personally am a member of the associated discord server, and it's been a really great experience to meet a bunch of people who are also dealing with the issues I'd faced alone for my entire life. you're not alone 💕

[miraculousmarkets]

Another topic I want to talk about that isn't news related but I feel will give legitimacy to my words, is how I see so many parallels between Pokemon cards and crypto. Pokemon card trading and grifting was how I got started. I was a kid, I liked Pokemon, but I liked getting bargains and ahead more. Always had a thing for winning although nothing beats the W I got with my bugaboo.

We grew up very differently. I was a poor kid, both her parents had money. She immediately knew how to make a portfolio and had doors opening, but also had a lot of pressures I never had. Noone expected me to succeed, noone forced me to do anything I didn't want to do. There's a certain freedom and peace of mind in that, but at the same time it sucks not to have, especially when you have a competitive and masculine spirit. It was only natural I'd get into sales and marketing as a job as I got older. Used car-lots, cold-calling... But that's a story for another day. What I want to discuss is how all the same nerdy kids who grew up on Pokemon cards, either moved on and forgot about it, or evolved much like their Pokemon, probably into crypto.

Crypto is considered the laughing stock of investments because of it's volatile nature. As I write this, Pepecoin for example is at 1.87usd and still dropping. Which isn't half-bad for a crypto all things considered, and I believe in Pepecoin. However, most don't like too put their faith in memes, especially when there's so much mythology around crypto. Now, this Gengar card will run you about 70 dollars. It was released back in like 2008. Ex was a new game-mechanic and people freaked. (Game freak huurhuurhuur bad pun) Ok... So what can we learn from this?

1: Pokemon cards will appreciate in value... sometimes. Evidentially I guarantee this card might've been double in market price back in 2008, however, it maintains some of it's value because it can only drop so steeply, along with physical rarity.

2: The market of Pokemon cards vastly differs from other markets because it is a game first and foremost. As such, a lot of it's costs depends on immediate demand coupled with rarity. "Meta" defining cards will go for a lot regardless of how common it is. True of any card-game. However, once the meta changes, you can expect a huge dip. This kinda makes timing the market even more difficult than with other investments. Trends can give you some idea of the trust in a stock or the direction of a meme coin. You either have to open a new set Early and capitalize in the small window of time this card is in rotation to sell high, pull a random holo and hope card shops give you a decent deal, or sit on it for seventeen years and sell it for 70 dollars when you had no way of knowing how much of it's value would be maintained unless you had some notion of how it would interact in unlimited formats and/or how much it got printed. I looked up the price of a Platinum booster box (the set this was released in) and first price I saw was 1500usd. There are 13 cards in a booster pack, 36 booster packs. If I had unbelievable luck, dare I say...miraculous... And pulled this Gengar out of every single booster, I could make 252,000usd. More than a year's salary of a doctor.

But I won't. I don't even think I physically could considering how shipments and print sheets work.

I could pull 10. That's lucky and realistic. That's 700 dollars which is nice, but it doesn't let me even break-even. I'm sure there's other cards in the set, but I'm not going to retire on Pokemon cards this way. It'd have to supplement the hobby. Whether I like playing the game, or just collecting, it could only incentivize, that's why it was a "fad" in the 90s as people were thinking of booster packs like lottery tickets that one good pull could be the difference between eating ramen every night to caviar. It was never going to happen.

The same holds true with crypto to some degree. While I do believe crypto is the future of commerce which I will get into in a later blog, and you can more steadily profit off of it playing it's guessing game. It is essentially just another game. It's a game for adults of trading memes and hope over make believe internet coins that can increase your income, but at the end of the day most coins flounder. Even the ones that are built to withstand the test of time like Bitcoin, are essentially Gengar. Noone knew at the time what Bitcoin was, let alone what it would amount too. Now even on a bad day, Bitcoin is sitting at 60k and it's only going to get better. However, it's the same as saying gold is your ticket to owning a yacht. It isn't. It'll be an asset, it kind of already is. That's why JP Morgan and Blackwater are buying into it. Evidentially their backup plan is Bitcoin should they need to rely on that as a padding to a huge crash of some sort. However, as it stands... It's just gambling for big nerds who never grew up. And I keep coming back to this but I don't think everyone is going to be trading in Bitcoin when crypto becomes normalized anyway. People will probably use an infinite number of crypto and I'll write about that later as it just keeps coming up.

I just wanted to illustrate that a lot of the same mentality it took to succeed in crypto, it took to get ahead in Pokemon cards. And just like Pokemon cards, the real winners are the people who made friends, who have fond memories, who kept themselves busy, who met a nice girl and married her through a mutual hobby.

[furiousgoldfish]

On personal recovery

It's been 6 years since I've ran away from home, I got notified by someone that my mother posted a sad post on facebook mentioning me, hoping I'd see it. I didn't go see it, but I still had a series of intrusive memories come up, and my brain instinctively tried to figure out what was expected of me, like I'm still following some line of obligation. What is expected, of course, is for me to feel guilty and come back home, and then die, because I can't survive in a place where trauma stares me down from each corner. I am all out of resilience I had as a kid, I would not make it. So I won't. I don't have to die to make my parent less sad, even if they really really want me to.

This inspired me to look back to the time I escaped; there is little as terrifying as grabbing a bag and escaping into the night with no place to go, no plan of survival, and no way of return. For a long time afterwards, I was convinced I'd be killed as a punishment. If I was alone, I'd lie in the corridors, trembling, expecting the door to burst open any second and for my life to be ended on spot.

I was lucky to find a cheap apartment almost the next day, tho I had to wait for a week before moving in. It was only after I had a bed to sleep in and a kitchen to make food in that I started to experience the extent of the terror. I feared my parents then more than I did ever before. I didn't uderstand anymore how could I have lived there and not be passing out in terror. It was more like a war zone than anything else, I was tortured and forced to hide it and stay, injured and forced to stay, abandoned and forced to stay and do whatever was asked or my life would be held over my head. The reality of it crashed down on me and I couldn't find my way thru. Half of the time I doubted myself, the other half I spent dissociating from what I couldn't handle; that I had no family, that I was exploited and tortured way past breaking, and that I had absolutely nothing to show for it. I escaped with my life only in a body that was now broken.

I spent almost all of my time in bed, unable to move, trying to hide the reality of my state from my roommates, who didn't like me very much, but never threatened or attacked me, so it was an improvement. I remember cycling thru guilt for being unproductive and laying down so much, even though I couldn't move, I was barely able to make food. I kept telling myself 'this is my rehabilitation phase, I am resting after being broken, I have to keep lying down' to comfort my guilt. It only somewhat worked.

I used to get up every morning believing I was back there, afraid to open my eyes in the morning. I kept forgetting I escaped, because it had felt so impossible, like I had to be imagining it. I often felt like I was making this whole part of my life up, like I would wake up only to realize escape was impossible and I was naive to believe I could ever get out of there. My parents wanted this reinforced as much as possible; they had sent me threats, recruited all the people they knew to harass me, demand my location, guilt me, yell at me, call me heartless and so on. I had to block all of my relatives, friends, acquaintances, and delete my social media in order for the harassment to peter out. All of my relatives disowned me. I was cruel and ungrateful monster in all of their eyes. When the world builds a narrative so unified, so convincing and justified against you, how do you fight it? You can't. You try to convince yourself that you should still survive it. You wonder if you deserve any sympathy at all even when you're in a state so awful you can barely eat. Later, you get angry, because you realize all of these people forgot you're a human being so easily, just because you wouldn't die for them. But at the moment, you just feel devastation, self doubt, and horor over the image they all painted of you. Any good memories you have of them now hurt like poison. It meant nothing to them. It meant something to you.

I wasn't able to leave my bed for more than an hour for about 8 months, and afterwards it was starting to improve. Instead of being down all of the time, I'd have episodes of bad weeks, bad months, but sometimes I'd get a day of movement. It felt particularly bad when the exhaustion hit again, right when I thought it was gone.

Over the next few years, I dissociated a lot, because I was extremely weak to stress, so anything stressing me out would be erased from my memory. Thus I don't remember most od what was going on. There's a blur of me working for a neighbour who also turned to abuse me and I had to escape that as well, roommates who took advantage of my anxiety to please others, and then proceeded to drain whatever little evergy I had. I felt hopeless a lot if the time. I wanted to go live in the wilderness but I was scared I wouldn't make it, that I was bad at survival. But I downloaded an army survival guide and started indulging with something that was forbidden before; survival skills.

Learning to create things and to gain resources from trash and nature was giving me both hope and insight; upon learning that it's easy, I also learned that it was kept from me as a sabotage, and being called 'too stupid and incompentent to survive' was just a fat lie. I also got to know that my parents did a lot of things terribly wrong, they were misinformed, made idiot choices, messed up simple shit I was able to do at once, and it became clear they were way worse at survival than I was, they were simply born in a time that didn't require them to be strategic or smart. They inherited resources, a house, money, and they all had tons of family support, they got safe jobs when jobs were abundant, they exploited their relatives endlessly, and they got off telling me I would die in a ditch while cutting me off from everything. It was soothing to know for sure that they were too stupid to comment on my survival skills.

I'd still had to learn that involving myself with distressed people isn't something I'm obligated to do, and that when the same people hurt me in return, I was allowed to get away. Feeling every single hurt done to this world and indulging in every horror in the world was not my duty either. I felt as if I'm heartless if I don't do it, but ultimately it hurt me and helped no one. It was only increasing the amount of suffering in the world. I learned to only indulge enough to be educated, because I already felt compassion and had the desire to help, even without witnessing the worst of pain. It was only causing a burnout and great instability, and I couldn't face that I was also one of the people suffering. It wasn't helpful for me to take on more. And good people don't want to drag someone down who is in so much pain already, just to get a moment of recognition or relief. More I couldn't give. I had nothing else.

I didn't notice when I stopped waking up in fear. There's still nightmares, and I wake up grumpy and upset, but I know where I am now. Somewhere along the way I started believing that this is real, that I escaped and it was possible for me to do it. I still live in hiding and haven't been found yet. The prolonged safety from violence, lack of exposure to abuse and my continued survival had done the soothing I needed, so my brain adapted to the new situation. I am still suspicious, but I don't believe I'm going to die so easily. I can work now, even if it's just a few hours a week. I can move on most days, and rarely have a bad flare of complete exhaustion. I no longer catastrophize. I get mad at people more often, even as I don't know how to correctly express it. Being stable doesn't come without constant effort, but now I know how to do it, and for periods of time, I'm able to do it. I'm still terrified of my parents, but I might never have to see or hear them again. One day they'll die, and the death threat of their existence will be gone.

[itsany62]

SteveTony - Superfamily

Here are some Superfamily fics that I love. Don’t forget to leave kudos and nice comments in every fic!

What We Learn?, by nannersmelo, 1 k >, Fluff.

“Who is this?”

“That doesn’t matter. What matters is that we have your husband, so you will listen very closely-”

“My husband Tony? Tony Stark?”

"...Yes?”

“Oh well,” Steve laughed, “good luck with that.”

Intruder, by wordscorrupt, 500 words.

Steve and Tony face a rather tiny, adorable intruder in the middle of the night.

the privilege of loving you by starklystar, 7 k > words.

“Why won’t you let me touch you?”

It’s a desperate plea, half-shouted and half-whispered, Steve’s voice cracking at the end. Tony stops in his tracks, halfway to the stairs. He doesn’t dare to turn back, and he really doesn’t want to fight, or to leave, to spend the last month of his life away from his husband and their son. But Steve can’t know, can he?

-x-

Or: Tony has palladium poisoning, but he doesn't tell Steve and Peter

ah-choo by starksnack, 3 k words, Hurt/Comfort.

Peter catches a cold at the park while Tony is away for work. Steve is all out of sorts trying to care for a sick child on his own.

The Sign by nightwalker, 2 k > words, Adoption.

Tony hadn't slept the night before and he knew Steve hadn't either. They'd just laid there, side by side, listening to each other breathe and thinking their own thoughts. Somewhere around dawn Steve had rolled onto his side and splayed his fingers over Tony's heart.

Bellflower (unwavering love) by S_Horne, 1 k > words.

“Aw, man.” Tony shook his head at himself as he finally broke. He bent down and tucked his hands underneath Peter’s armpits, hoisting him up onto his hip with a practiced ease. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

“No m’not.”

Tony shook his head, straightening Peter’s shirt out where it had bunched up around his chest. “You’re in one of those moods today, aren’t you?”

Peter shook his head sagely and Tony huffed a laugh. “Not. You’re just mean.”

“I swear,�� Tony said, blowing out a sigh, “if your Pops walks in and you turn into an angel, you’re grounded until you’re 50.”

a little lemonade by tonystarkssnipples, 1 k > words.

Tony came downstairs after putting Piper to sleep to find Steve with about 10 pounds of lemons spread across the table. At Tony’s footsteps, Steve looked up at him with wide eyes. “The recipe says a cup of lemon juice per gallon.”

“And?”

“I don’t know how many lemons make a cup of lemon juice.”

--or--

It's summer and Steve wants to help their daughter with a lemonade stand.

Distracted by a Dime by happyaspie, 56 k > words, Homeless Peter Parker.

Peter Parker thinks he has everything figured out. Where he can eat, sleep and make a little bit of money. What he needs to do in order to continue attending Midtown High and being Queen’s friendly neighborhood Spider-man. How to keep his entire situation under wraps and most importantly, who he can trust.

Then, along comes Tony Stark with an offer he can’t refuse. The plan is to remain professional, to not get too close to the Stark-Rogers’ family. Not getting comfortable means not slipping up and saying anything that he can’t take back.

...but for Peter- things rarely go as planned...

one makes me want another by parkrstark, 12 k > words, Adoption, Angst with a Happy Ending.

Steve and Tony adopt Peter when he's 6-years-old and 10 years later, he still thinks he's living the best life with two father doting on him. Until they tell him about the new baby they're bringing home and suddenly, the attention is all on her.

steve rogers-stark: full time dad/husband, part time spider relocator by parkrstark, 1 k > words, Spiders, Fluff.

"Love, what's wrong?" He called out, waiting for a reply.

"Steve!" Tony instantly screamed back. "Come here! I need you!"

Steve quickened his pace slightly, trying to keep himself calm so he didn't worry Peter. Babies could sense that stuff. "Where is 'here', love?"

“Bathroom!"

come morning light (we'll be safe & sound) by parkrstark, 14 k > words, Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending.

After a strange mission, Steve, Tony, and Peter find themselves trapped in their own living nightmares. Some memories of their past, some they hoped to keep from even each other, and some of the worst 'what if's their minds can imagine. All they have is each other until they wake up...but is that enough to survive until they figure out how?

Gelid Feint by geekymoviemom, 21 k > words, Fluff and Angst.

Gelid: icy; extremely cold

Feint: a deceptive or pretended blow

Steve Rogers’ world had completely changed since he was discovered in the Arctic Ice. Not only had he led a team of actual superheroes to defend New York against an alien invasion, he had also found love, and the family he’d never dared to dream he could have.

So when Nick Fury asked Steve on a simple mission to retrieve materials from a hidden bunker, Steve thought nothing of it.

Until the demons he’d thought he had buried within the Red Skull’s airplane suddenly reappeared, and he was forced to face the one enemy he’d thought he had vanquished.

He had cut off one head, but now two more had taken its place.

love lives on by parkrstark, 6 > k words, Teacher Steve Rogers, Alternate Universe.

Steve doesn't like picking favorite students, but when he gets Peter in his class, he can't help it when this sweet little boy becomes his favorite. He shouldn't be surprised when one day his father picks him up, and Steve realizes that he's the son of Tony Stark...the love of his life he let go back in high school. Steve wants his second chance, even if Tony doesn't want anything to do with him anymore.

maybe love is the reason why (we're seeing it eye to eye) by parkrstark, 134 k > words, undercover as a family, Fake/Pretend Relationship.

"I'm sorry. Repeat that again." Tony leaned forward in his seat from across the table. He even stuck a finger in his ear as if he was cleaning it out. "I don't think I heard you right."

Fury rolled his eyes-- or well, eye. "You and Rogers need to go undercover as a married couple in a community out on Long Island."

--

After Civil War, Tony and Steve are sent on an undercover mission as a couple to try and find Hydra informants. Somehow, they end up with Peter as their undercover son who decides to play matchmaker even if the two of them are doing their best to ignore their feelings after Siberia.

little moments like this by parkrstark, 1 k > words, Domestic Fluff.

Steve grabs the blanket and covers himself. "Stop it! My husband will kill you!"

It takes Tony only a second to realize what Steve thinks is going on and he laughs. "Steve, it's me. Tony." He tries to take the blanket off, but Steve doesn't let him.

"Don't-- take advantage of me! My husband will kill you!"

Or, Steve is loyal to no end. Even after a night of drinking Asgardian mead.

Trapped in the Shadows by geekymoviemom, 97 k > words, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Parent Tony Stark.

All Steve Rogers wanted after a lifetime of war was to immerse himself in quiet, and solitude. Opening a bookstore seemed like the perfect answer. He could escape to any world that he desired, all while keeping his past firmly behind him, where it belonged.

Until the day Peter Stark walked in.

anytime by complicationstoo, 714 words, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Established Relationship.

Steve is there, holding Tony's sleepy one year old against his chest and stirring scrambled eggs on the stove with his free hand. He's murmuring quietly to Peter, low enough that Tony can't quite make out the words, but there's a soft smile on his face as he talks.

Tony wanders further in, sneaking up behind him and wrapping his arms around his waist. He buries his face into Steve's hair, and he can hear the grin in Steve's voice as he says, "Good morning, dear.”

How To Change A Diaper by writerstrash, 1 k > words, Established Relationship, Fatherhood.

Steve and Tony deal with a wriggly, crawly baby Peter who enjoys keeping his parents on their toes.

[jaedreaminn]

Desperate Much?

Pairings: Ten x Reader.

Theme: fluff, angst, hurt, comfort, family, sad, happy ending. (Life is still going on)

Characters: Ten, Taeyong, Mark, Donghyuck, Jeno.

Word Count: 2k

~~~

Ten wasn't like his 'brothers'. Infact he wasn't ever their brother, he was their cousin. His dad was the one who inherited the family business and had settled with him and his mother in Thailand to branch out.

He had a happy and perfect life with both of his parents, but that was untill they both died unexpectedly in a car accident when he was eleven. And suddenly everything in his life was changing. He had to move to Korea to live with his uncle and his children, his father's buisness was now his uncle's buisness until Ten was old enough to take over. Until he could legally take over. He had to learn a different language, make new friends and start his life all over again in a very dysfunctional family.

He remembered the constant yelling between Mr.Lee and Mrs.Lee, having to sit by himself during those times when Taeyong would take his younger brothers Mark and Jeno and hide in his room, he remembered how Donghyuck would cry under the scrutinizing gaze of Mrs.Lee as she fought with Mr.Lee and the boy was stuck there not able to escape, the loss of the joys of family dinners that he was used to, the loneliness he felt. That was when he met you. You were his only friend in this country and even though he could barely talk to people you tried your best to talk to him despite the language barrier.

You were cheerful and jovial and very very clingy but he didn't mind that. You ate lunch with him and helped him with his Korean. You even made sure to stick by his side with the excuse of him being new here so he wouldn't get lost months after he arrived.

You were a blessing in disguise to him especially since it was so awkward with his cousin Taeyong at home and at school.

Time flew fast and a year had passed and he could speak and write Korean way better than before and lucky for him you were still stuck to his side.

In those trying times you were his only semblance of joy. The times in which Mark wouldn't talk at all, the times in which Taeyong would go around at the ripe age of twelve and hurt people with words so sharp that they would leave the school, when all Jeno did was look upto Taeyong and when Donghyuck started to act out getting himself in trouble so bad that he could have almost lost his life but no one cared.

It hurt Ten to watch all this happen but not being able to do anything about it because no matter how well he got along with the youger two, Taeyong would always pull his brothers away from him and take them to his room and well Donghyuck, he wouldn't talk to anyone at home.

But unfortunately all he could do was get used to this awful life, glad that you would quietly listen to him rant and then lighten his mood up with something silly.

He was mid rant one day when he spoke about how much he missed 'family dinners' that you interrupted him, "Why don't you have a dinner with your cousin's?" Ten scoffed at you and shut that idea down immediately but when he came home and saw how far apart everyone was he decided there and then that's what was needed.

So he forced Mark out of his room and away from his books, he pryed Donghyuck away from his bed, he bribed Taeyong and Jeno just followed his eldest brother and thats how he found himself at the diner table for the first time ever since his parents passed away.

"I used to eat dinner like this with my parents" he spoked but Taeyong glared at him, "I don't care"

"Look you want to be a brat be a brat but at the dinner table all feuds are forgotten and all hatred is gone, food is supposed to be consumed happy"

"What did your parents say that?" Taeyong asked, rolling his eyes.

"Nope y/n did!" Ten said with a cheeky smile, "Now c'mon dig in"

And so there started their first meal together with everyone silently serving themselves, "So we usually talk about our day at the dinner table" Ten smiled his eyes crinkling into two half moons. "I know none of you will say anything so I'll start, Teacher Park yelled at me for correcting him on his Korean today. I was so pissed" Taeyong snorted at that, "Yea that old geezer is weird"

"I know I don't like him either" Donghyuck spoke and Taeyong glared at him but Ten cleared his throat loudly and Taeyong sighed muttering an inaudible apology.

"I placed a fart cushion on his chair today" Donhyuck grinned proudly and collective snorts were heard across the table and Jeno chocked on his food as Taeyong patted the younger boys back. Mark was still eating quietly. Then Donghyuck frowned, "But he didn't like that..." He then put out his hands showing everyones his palms, "So he took me out of the classroom and hit me" Tens heart sank at the red bruises on the boys hands and Taeyong was glaring again but this time it wasn't at Donghyuck, "How dare that old rat hit a seven year old child like that" the eldest growled. But Donghyuck only smiled, "It's okay I'm used to it" he said and Tens heart broke at that statement and by the looks of it so did Taeyongs.

Something shifted between the boys that night and they all knew it. Ten came to school the next day boasting to you about the success of his first family dinner and how excited he was for the next one tomorrow.

He even told you the story Donghyuck had told him not knowing what to do and that very day you got detention for throwing your thick Oxford Dictionary at Mr.Parks face.

Ten still smiles at that memory, a tiny you standing on your bench, yelling out a swear word and launching the book right at the unsuspecting teachers face, nevertheless what you did got the principal's attention. And without making a big deal of it she started an investigation on the teacher.

You chatted excitedly the next day about how exhilarating it was for you to throw a book at that man's face and Ten smiled listening to you talk with animated gestures.

That night he was greeted by the sight of Taeyong silently treating their youngest brothers wounded hands while avoiding the younger boys adoring gaze.

And so life moved forward and Ten had new friends and family here in Korea. And of course you. At this point he wasn't sure if you were his friend or family or both. But you were you.

You were known in school as- The y/n. The y/n who had all of Ten's attention leaving zero for his admirers.

To Ten you were the y/n who made him happy, the y/n who made him laugh, the y/n with a beautiful smile, the y/n who held him as he cried, the y/n who would nag him endlessly when he didn't eat properly, the y/n who would latch pinkies with him and walk everywhere, the y/n who was exceptionally smart and savy.

His life was finally looking up, with you by his side helping him through it all. And slowly he was making new happy memories, like the day he got you all flustered for the first time, or the day Taeyong had put his foot down and finally dragged Donghyuck away from the fighting couple into his room along with Ten, the day he took you to the amusement park you wanted to go to so badly that you kissed his cheek and went running off to the roller coaster, the day Jeno who only looked upto Taeyong had asked him for help, the day he snuck out of the house at night to watch the stars with you, the day Mark spoke at the diner table for the first time, the day you tripped and fell and he got it on camera, the day Taeyong called him his brother, the day of their class picnic and many more.

But there were also bad days like they day he had his first big fight with you or the day Donghyuck had come to him crying and crying without ever telling him why or the day where both the adult Lee's decided to join the family diner and ruined it.

But even those didnt last because his fight with you ended with the two of your crying in each other's arms promising to never have a fight this big again, because the day Donghyuck cried so bitterly that it shook the entire house Taeyong, Mark and Jeno rushed in and it turned into a mini sleepover as they took care of the youngest who soon forgot why he was crying and promised to make sure he only laughs in the future. And the day that Mr. And Mrs. Lee ruined the family diner was the day all five of the boys snuck out to eat marshmallows and chocolate in the park. The initial idea was to make smores but none of them knew how to make a fire and they were all out of crackers.

Those were just a few happy moments with many more to come like the day he asked you out, or the day he and his brothers went camping together, or the day Donghyuck smiled a smile so pure as his eyes shone with genuine happiness or the day Jeno started to think for himself and made friends who were a good influence on him. And the day Mark started dating someone. (Ten genuinely thought by how quite the boy was he would have to force him to talk to people let alone date someone), the day he got his father's company back and the day he proposed to you on the banks of the Han river, under the stars with his family and closest friends there to witness the moment.

"Why are you smiling so big?" your voice interrupted his thoughts and his smiled widened even more at the sight of you. "Did you fart?" You asked him and he chuckled grabbing onto your arm and and pulling you down to sit on his lap, wrapping his arms around your waist. "Nothing I'm just happy"

"Ten Lee I swear to god if you're on drugs then I want a divorce even before I marry you" you scolded playfully and Ten chuckled, "My only drug is you baby" he cooed and you gaged "Eww gross get a room" you said and he deadpanned.

"You're weird you know that y/n?" He asked with a small chuckle.

"Clearly you knew what you were getting into" You smiled, teeth on full display with how wide your grin was.

"Obviously"

"Oh by the way, I handled your little mishap at work today and got a few things you were supposed to do tomorrow scheduled for later and the rest got done today so your free tomorrow the entire day" you said and he smiled at you looking at you so lovingly. He doesn't remember that one moment he realised he was in love with you, maybe there wasn't just one lightbulb moment where her realised he loved you. Maybe he always knew or maybe he gradually figured it out. But that didn't matter all that matters is that he loves you and you love him.

"Ahh what would I do without you?" he asked snuggling into your neck and you chuckled, "Let's never have an answer to that question okay" you said and he nodded, you were right. You were there through evey step of the way after his life turned upside down and he's sure as hell he doesn't want to find out what it would be like without you so Ten grinned placing a small peck on you neck, "I'm gonna take you on the best date of your entire life tomorrow"

"Desperate much?"

"Y/n I'm literally engaged to you!"

~~~

Lee brother's- A mini series

Previous Part: Lee Mark

Next Part: Lee Donghyuck

[its-toasted]

Self care and self love are very different

I've been avoiding writing long text posts for like a month, I'm sorry. Don't know why I apologized. Doing y'all favors. Usually I just want to spill and cast out the feelings instead of writing to edit, you know?

Even if I want to share, I'm seldom ready since they're ethos ventings. They serve the therapeutic purpose, then go in the vault. But every once in a while, I'll pull a raw feeling or line from an old something to start a new one and I love doing that, especially if it becomes a poem or prose joint. I try not to let the spillage go fully to waste.

.

TLDR this not pretty. This afternoon I got stuck for a while on how I wasted over 2 good years of my twenties. A bottom 3 hang-up of thus far. It's been a couple months since this has cracked, it's heavy bitterness and shame and loose ends. I've burned a lot more bridges than I admit, even to my brother. It just makes me feel so fucked again.

After graduating in 2018, it took a while to land a passable gig, but I hustled and continued to take care of myself for about 6 months. Even though I was already in a bad mental space, I kept up steady routines because that's always kept me sane. Growing up I felt like my shit was together and I could do anything probably because I was always doing things. I kept the balance, body mind social spiritual. I think my world opened up more starting with weightlifting and ball in early middle school, finding those 2 things to love and work toward for myself, not forced like music. People and progress grounded me.

My whole attitude about self care shifted in the 2019-2020 calendar years. I just walked off a cliff. I remember reading a woman talk about "losing her mojo" in a Humans of New York book my brother got me. That was me at my worst, I stopped wanting to live decent and see my people and like go out. The biggest culprit was that I had a job that was impossible to be proud of, but it was a lot more. I leaned so deep into weed, because dependency is a common product of pushing for years. I mostly undid an adolescence of becoming who I wanted to be, and it started before 2019 but never caught on, and it went beyond my body. I shut down and stopped caring, period. For ~2 years I didn't do shit but make meh contract money and ride solo in my own worlds.

The worst thing was that I owed people better and I just wasn’t there for many because of anxiety and addiction. You lose the people you don't keep up with. What hurts otherwise is how I started to drop everything I love and found my place in. Spending time with my fam, writing, reading, singing, instruments, talking to my people, getting sun, even driving and exploring, all the simple passions. I wasn't active in circles seeing people anymore. Church school newsrooms workshops sports trapping greek life were all done, and I was in limbo. It all stacked into a very tall identity crisis, and I dealt with it by not. I started keeping to myself and it wasn't even bitter, it was just empty. Work and spark and dog and game and eat and succumb to a show or movie. I got by on this shitty rhythm for a brick, there was such a lack of love in and out. That kind of steady can be fine for a while, right, but when you're in it for too long or for the wrong reasons it becomes dark.

The routine was lonely, but it kept me occupied and not depressed. What it did to my headspace and self-image was nasty. Some of these self-deprecating thought loops that revisit today are like an unraveling of all the unsettled triggers, because sins beget sins. But so many times I'd neglect them automatic, reasoning that I was too lucky as a kid, and lived plenty full through 20, and I'd rather have those years anyways. I had a nice home, a good brother, and two parents who were physically present. So I can't feel this way, I have no right, how much can I ask for. And it's not bad to check privilege but sinking into that mentality was hella counterproductive to healing. Being a fucking bust aided in crippling me in too much shame to confront my shit for years, I just shucked it all.

That all started the year before COVID. So when COVID hit, things didn't get better for a long time. It literally took finding a new full-time job and moving homes to start getting myself right. But as soon as that happened, it was like the light switched back on. I want to stay wanting good things again, I miss being warm. And I can't invalidate my hang-ups or own all the guilt. That's not taking care, that's how I squander and dig a deeper hole. I have to wrestle and reflect on why I push everything away. And I'm not absolute trash for taking a long time to get okay again. Or maybe it's that I was trash, but I can still grow. Believing in your own ability to change might sound like a no-brainer, but I lost it for a while. Growing up is some bullshit but we’re gonna be good again.

You know underneath it all, I still believe God exists. But I don't think he does anything, I think he leaves us to our devices. And roots for us, because we have to find our own way. So on the good days I've forgiven myself and am moving forward again. Since I relocated, my baseline has been good days. I'm getting back to a better place, even if it's mad slow. Month-by-month I do notice differences. This was really hard to write. And it makes for a shit read because there's so much of what I hate about myself. But that's okay. Keeping it a buck, writing is less often about making what I want anyways.

OCTOBER - DECEMBER WRITING PLAN:

1. Send out another round of poetry submissions if I feel it 2. Wring and rearrange work since May for 1-2 collections 3. Then, finalize the outline for a memoir-ish book 4. Then, write book smh

There's no way I stick to this timeline. I'm excited and nervous to start on the book. I guess I've already started, but I'm not even sure I have the ability to wrap it up well right now. I envision an embellished memoir, but twisted enough that it still surprises me too. I will have rantage spillings scattered but I do want it to be storyline-driven. Except more as a string of vignettes to share all the loves of my life, and just how people lose and gain and change. I want to try to make something someone can fall in love with for sure, that good-book feeling carried me many times as a kid and teen.

Hopefully, I'll be on the book by the turn of the year. I think that's really optimistic. Reminder that there's nothing wrong with that.

[rayshippouuchiha]

Can I be honest?

Ao3 actually kept me from harm BECAUSE it hosted darker content that is well tagged.

Let me explain. I started my fanfiction days pretty young and in ff.net no less. I loved reading and I was curious. First thing I learned before going on the internet was from my father (the internet is not for kids, stay sharp, you going into an adult place, act like it). I was very careful but I was still curious.

So, I started small, but because of the ff.net tag mess I did get burned. A few times. Sudden violence, amputations, sex scenes (god i remember the lemon scale bs, as if i understood it in the first place) (this was before the purge). This was because all the well written fics were mostly in the M rating but had no specific tags so I had no idea if the M was for torture, cursing, or god knows what, I couldn't filter out anything.

Some of those things I still remember, they left a mark in a way, but that wasn't the writer's fault because they couldn't tag and I ignored the author note sections because most of the time it was just rambles of the author talking with the characters self-insert style or about their real life problems, how was I supposed to find a warning in that kind of mess? And that's on me.

In that period I kinda got introduced to sex, a thing that wasn't talked about around me in real life. I was already a bit older, so I read it no problem. Then got introduced to kinks and found them interesting.

That's where Ao3 comes in. I found it when looking at fic recs and saw a new internet address instead of ff.net. For me, it was the holy grail. I was still a young curious teen girl but suddenly had access to a whole library of cool shit. I read a lot of mainstream fics and switched between fandoms like a deck of cards. Then, I saw the E rating. I was interested and clicked. Clicked through the adult content warnings like a true kid lying about their age on the internet.

I saw tags galore! Now, for the first time I was, in a way, safe while exploring dark stuff. Because one fic on the same page was tagged underage (the characters were my age at the time) and was E, while a whole other E fic on the same page was graphic torture case fic and worse. And it was all tagged.

So there I went, looking at fic, going hmmm and deciding: oh that's interesting, ew no, oh that's gross, huh i wonder what that is, this sounds good, oh i love this, uhhhhh hmm should I risk it, OH HELL NO.

And that's the thing! I knew what I was reading! I could experiment with kinks and dark things in a completely safe environment of the fantasy world!

Ao3 in a way saved me from talking about these things with others and accidentaly falling into an actual predator's hands (think student/teacher dynamic, grooming), because my curiosity wasn't going away, I still would have looked sooner or later, and if it wasn't for the no-interaction interface of Ao3 (a story can't kidnap or molest you), I could have been hurt.

Like yeah, no shit, I know I'm lucky that my brain didn't get actual trauma from textual depictions of dark stuff I stumbled on in my early days, but what I did get was more valuable than the risk of trauma (also, you can't get trauma from a tag, but you could from the text that has the tag, so the reader is still the one responsible, they were warned what was inside the box and still opened it).

I got boundaries, squicks, hard no's, absolute limits, whatever people call them these days. I now know what I can deal with and what I can't. I know myself better and could now fight against a person trying to bend or break them. I read dark shit so I know what kind of emotions I get from them and in what circumstances (what I like in text pretty much never carries into real life (even the mild things like biting), surprise).

But purity police would look at my Ao3 history and scream their head off about how I'm a deviant roaming free to attack people like a rabid dog, because obviously I must secretly wish to do that in real life!

And then if they met me they would get the confusion of a lifetime! They would have this image of a sexual deviant/old as fuck creeper/freak and then see me, a 21 year old woman, a well adjusted and social individual who has NEVER and will NEVER hurt a fly, eating chips in bed and reading fucked up shit about fictional characters for entertainment.

Because that's the difference. It's not the average people reading fucked up shit that are dangerous to the public, it's the people who already were fucked in the head before reading anything. No story on this Earth can force you to commit a crime unless you already wanted to do it and were just looking for an excuse.

Case in point, the Dexter inspired murders ("it wasn't me it was the book, I am innocent, it was the evil book, as such I am not to blame, blame the author!") and the NUMEROUS video game related murders (oh no it's not the parent's fault they bought their unstable child a 18+ rated game, it's the game's/creator's fault!"

Fiction and Reality coexist and influence each other in various ways (propaganda, misinformation, stereotypes, false data), but not like this.

And do you guys know why? Because we have an instinctive moral compass, we know right from wrong, and anyone fooling themselves thinking "I would have never done that if this [media] didn't tell/force me to do it" are in fact lying. Again, they would have done it eventually or even wanted to do it already, they just found a viable excuse now, all free to use as a "get out of jail free" card.

Sorry for the long ask and for my English (non-native speaker), you can ignore this, I won't mind. Just got a bit ticked off at people blaming writers for shit they didn't do. So here is my perspective from a long time reader's point of view.

If all these works didn't make me into a monster after all this time reading, then maybe, just maybe, it's not the works' fault.

You bring up absolutely wonderful and important points darling. Thank you for sharing.

And your English is fantastic so don’t worry about it.