#it looks so much more horrific now that im sober

[wildergrimm]

Never let me make snacks while drunk

[gryffindormischief]

First of all, happy belated birthday!! I'm late, i know but i was swamped with study! I was wondering, since the big exam i was studing for didn't go well, could you write me a consolatory, something? Maybe with "What happened this time? Do you need me to kiss your face until your forget about life again?” and hinny? merci ma belle

A/N: a bit delayed, but it’s here! I am so sorry your exam didn’t go well. I really do understand and just remember that no matter how big or important that exam feels, it’s not who you are and it doesn’t determine your worth. You’re amazing. Today’s a new day, you can start again, change your plans, go for it again, but whatever you do you’re more important than some test.

@fightfortherightsofhouseelves :)

Also on FF and Ao3

@petals-to-fish im putting out the bat signal

___

Charmolypi

Ginny Weasley is never one to do the expected. In fact, Harry sometimes wonders if she’s so unexpected that it really is expected. It’s a concept he’d like to float by Luna and her out of the box brain. She’s probably the only person he knows who could puzzle it out. He got a little tipsy once and asked Ron, who proceeded to toss stale pretzels in his face. And one day out of a sheer desire to break the horrific silence that is working late with Hermione, he asked her. She blinked at him and told him to go take a nap on the couch. He did and ended up snuggling with Ron, definitely a less preferable Weasley to wake up spooning than his usual variety.

But all that’s really beside the point. Which right now, is the fact that Ginny Weasley attended a commiseration ‘we lost’ bash at the Harpy’s local pub, remained sober as a judge, and then came home and splayed herself on the kitchen floor like a starfish. A sad one. Ginny Weasley is the person who whips in like a tornado, who somehow is the center of everything without even trying or wanting to be. She's the life of the party and yet never looking for the spotlight. So finding her stone cold sober and lying on the floor like a lump is pretty much as uncharacteristic as she gets.

She doesn’t move although he definitely closed the door with a slam that usually earns him a half-assed talking to, kicked off his boots loudly, and then stumbled into the doorframe because he really needs a holiday and also a new pair of glasses.

With a half smile, Harry slinks over to Ginny’s side, her shirt rucked up  enough to expose the purpling bruise on her ribs, and melts to the floor, shoulder to shoulder. “What happened here?”

His fingers tickle the edge of the mark and a shiver runs through her. A shiver that turns to a shudder and suddenly angry tears are slipping down her temples and he finally sees her bloodshot eyes. “I blew the whole damn game and practically cost us the season that’s what happened here.”

“You got hit with a bludger, Gin, nothing to be done about that.”

“What kind of tosser can’t keep their seat when a damn bludger knocks into them?”

“This kind of tosser,” Harry says, injecting a bit of humor into his voice even as he twists on his side and swipes at her tears.

“You were a kid - I’m supposed to be a professional,” Ginny grinds out, “I let the whole team down acting like a gormless idiot.”

“Hardly,” Harry says quietly, “I assume logic isn’t what you want right now or you’d be having this chat with Hermione.”

“She’s actually a pretty good pep talker,” Ginny admits with a wet laugh, “But I was too ticked off to care much for it. Remind me to apologize.”

Harry manages to work them both into sitting positions with one of Ginny’s legs tossed haphazardly over his hip so they’re basically chest to chest. Or forehead to chest since Ginny’s not doing much in the eye contact department at the moment. He nudges at her chin and she complies, and hell if her watery brown eyes aren’t the saddest thing he’s ever seen. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there.”

“I’m not - it was a shit fest.”

“I love being the over invested fan boy,” Harry says, “And getting to be the supreme fan boy because I actually do get to take the hottest chaser home and let her, pardon my crudeness, ride me like a Harpy.”

Ginny laughs, a little more real this time, and her forehead drops against his shoulder. “Did someone tip you off that I was moping?”

“Ron.”

“What a little snitch.”

Gently, Harry runs his hand up and down Ginny’s back as her breathing begins to even out, no longer the labored, shuddering breaths of held back frustration. He presses a kiss to her temple and murmurs, “Would you like me to kiss your face until you forget about life for a bit?”

Ginny’s lips find his collarbone, and then her warm breath tickles his neck as she answers, “And maybe some other things too?”

“Anything you like, dear.”

[ehstarwar]

a poor prisoner in his twisted gyves (2/8)

It was… an awful abuse of friendship that would more than likely be refuted immediately and cause a riff in the friend group.

But…

It was Ben. He would do this for her. He made her promise him, anyways.

-

Rey holds up her end of the deal with Ben and asks him for help.

-

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 4K

Read on AO3

Notes: threw in a lil spice with this chapter to show my gratitude for how wonderful u all are 

໒( ♥ ◡ ♥ )७

(also i'm shit at getting back to comments, but just know i will totes respond to you all and i would also die for all my commenters and kudos-ers. now back to ur regularly scheduled ABO)

Chapter 2: that breathes upon a bank of violets

-

Ben glared down at his now empty plate, while another champagne flute was placed before him. His mother continued to prattle on about her latest endeavors in the senate, but Ben was having a hard time focusing. He knew he should be listing to his mother; after everything he put her through, it was the least he could do, but his mind was elsewhere. Someplace not too far away, probably just waking up in a ratty old band t-shirt, smelling like all the good things in this world. 

“… Then he told me that I was only four votes down when I actually thought I was three votes ahead, so if he hadn’t tried to make a pompous ass of himself, he probably would have won- Benjamin? Hello? Are you with me?” Leia waves a hand in front of his face, snapping him from a train of thought that was not suitable for Sunday brunch with his mother.

“What? Oh, sorry. You were talking about Senator Sion, I think?” Ben says. Leia side-eyes him, taking a sip of her mimosa. 

“You’ve been distracted all morning and keep staring at me like you want to throw your eggs at my face. What’s going on?” She asks, motherly concern coloring her voice. Ben sighs, knowing that lying will only come back to bite him in the ass.

“You fought to end the suppressant mandate on omegas, what, a few months ago?” He asks, already knowing the answer.

“This is about politics?” She questions, giving him a disbelieving look.

“You realize that now insurance doesn’t have to cover suppressant coverage any more because of this, right?”

Leia sighs. “We knew it would be a side affect, that the lesser organizations would use it to capitalize off diminishing coverage. We weighed the risk and rewards and felt that it was still worth fighting for. We’re working with Planned Parenthood to be able to distribute suppressants to omegas who still want it, but it’s a war. Victories don’t always come easy.” Leia explains. Ben runs a hand through his hair.

“You don’t think the risk outweighs the reward? Omegas have a hard time getting good jobs with decent insurance, as is. If they can’t afford suppressants, it just makes their life harder.”

“All of this and more has been discussed with various political advisors who know quite a bit more than alphas like you and I, Ben. We made out decision on what to support. It would be hypocritical for us to tout that alphas don’t need to be on blockers but measly little omegas need suppressants. If you wanted to fight about political derivatives, we should have met in my office. No cutlery to throw at each other there,” She huffs. 

When Ben stays silent, not knowing how to continue this conversation without turning it into a fight, Leia concedes. 

“Did something happen? Do you know someone…?” She asks. Ben nods. “Who?”

“Rey,” He admits. Leia’s eyes go wide in understanding and she relaxes in her seat, inwardly pleased that she finally understands what’s going on.

“Rey is off suppressants because her insurance stopped covering them and now you having harder time concealing your feelings.” Bens’ eyes snapped up to his mother, before he began sputtering retorts.

“What are you- I don’t know- That’s not even, What? I don’t have feelings for Rey! It’s just… a problem and I know that I’m indirectly a cause of that and I feel bad. But not because I’m… I have… nothing. I feel bad for her, is all.” Leia just quietly laughed to herself, only fueling Bens’ discomfort. 

“Oh, please, Ben! I used to have to beg you just to know your friends name. You and Tai were friends for six years before I even knew he existed! Then, you meet Rey and introduce her to me after a week of knowing her. A week, Ben!” Leia says.

Ben just continues to mutter intelligible things under his breath.

“It’s okay for you to like her, Ben. I’d be worried if you didn’t. She’s a great girl. The whole family loves her.” Leia’s attempts to comfort her son serve only to embarrass him further. Like Ben didn’t already have the less-than-inconspicuous seal of approval from Grandma Padmé, and the constant jibes from Uncle Luke about how Rey ‘balances’ Ben out’. He hates that he loves it so much. That he needs it at all.

“If I… If I say anything to her now, she’ll think it’s just because she’s not on suppressants. She’ll think of me as just another knot-driven alpha who forgot to take his blockers.” Ben’s quiet admission sobers his mother up for a moment. 

“You’ll just have to convince her otherwise,” Leia presses, earning a humorless chuckle from Ben. 

“And how do I do that? I’m not exactly the most eloquent when it comes to women…. or people in general, really.” His mother snorts.

“You think I don’t know that?”

He narrows his eyes, and Leia puts her hands up in surrender.

“You’ll just have to… be there. For her. Whatever she needs. That’s the best place to start.”

-

When the number flashes across Rey’s screen, she knows it means trouble. Because she hasn’t had enough of that lately, evidently.

Inspection today. 

During normal work hours?

No. After.

Inspections take a lot of time. I can’t stay that late tonight.

No other option. Feel free to quit. 

Rey feels her insides boil. Her boss, Plutt knows her situation (despite her many attempts to keep it from him) and knows that quitting isn’t an option. Her fist balls as the thinks of what ‘inspections’ entails. 

Any normal work place with  a proper Human Resources department would call it an employee evaluation, but not Plutt. No, his ‘inspection’ consist of going through all of the work Rey has done over the last few months, noting only the complaints of vehicle not properly fixed, unsatisfied customers who didn’t like that an omega was working on their stuff, and Plutt’s continued harassment of her character. It would break any normal person, even people stronger than she; but Rey wouldn’t be brought down by Trumps’ broke doppelgänger.

Rey wanted to quit, and she had typed up a two-week-notice more than once, but its not like she could easily find another job. An omega mechanic, with debt up to her ears, in the wrong part of the city wasn’t the most attractive to potential employers, and going without a job wasn’t an option. So she would endure the likely horrific forty minute attack on her person with a straight face, then treat herself to some of the half-priced sushi from the drugstore around the corner.

The most daunting of all this was the fact that she would be in Plutts’ office, alone, well into the evening. He’d never tried anything on her, but he did tout his alpha status around enough that he was very aware she was an omega. 

And now, an omega without suppressants.

Rey thought of the pheromone sprays that she could take a few test sprays of, trying to put an alpha scent on her that would clog up the room and make Plutt want her out of there as soon as possible. But alpha sprays were hard to come by and usually did a piss-poor job of convincing others it was real. Only a real alpha scent would do the trick, and Rey’s lack of a love life gave her limited options.

Except, of course, for Ben. 

His rich, thick, melt-in-you-mouth, alpha scent that could bring back an omega from the brink of death would be perfect. If it made Rey feel like she was wrapped up in a warm blanket for the rest of the day, that was just an added bonus. 

But it’s not like she could ask Ben to do that. It was… an awful abuse of friendship that would more than likely be refuted immediately and cause a riff in the friend group.

But…

It was Ben. He would do this for her. He made her promise him, anyways. She texts him before she looses her nerve. 

i have a favor to ask

Shoot.

it’s a big favor 

…shoot?

you can say no if you want

i’d understand

Is everything okay? Are you in trouble?

Not trouble, per se, but a predicament 

Rey, I’m worried. What’s going on?

u remember my boss Plutt? he wants to have an 

inspection with me tonight and i’d be alone with him. 

he’s an alpha and…

u know my situation 

I’ll come stay with you during this inspection.

no, i don’t think that’d go well

Plutt can be… territorial

sometimes he’ll find a reason to refuse 

service to an alpha

i don’t want him to hurt u

I’d rather he try and hurt me than hurt you.

I’ll be with you. 

I will also help you look for a better job 

with a better employer.

i appreciate you for offering to do that, 

but i have an idea that could be better

and less likely to get us hurt

You quitting?

no

i think u should scent me

Um.

What?

scent me. 

surely you’ve scented someone before

I know what scenting someone is.

It’s just…

a little intimate. 

For people who aren’t dating.

yeah but we’ve know each other forever

i think it will be fine

that way i’d have your scent all over me at work

and Plutt will think i stink and cut the meeting short

that way he won’t try to hurt u and he

won’t try anything at the inspection!

its a win win

in my opinion

But you’d be covered in my scent.

yes benjamin that is precisely the point

You would have to smell me on you.

We would have to do this before 

you went into work and you’d smell like me 

until you could bathe.

i feel like ur not getting why im asking u

i WANT to smell like you

I don’t know if this is a good idea.

it is!

i’ll be able to keep my job and ward 

off my creepy boss

don’t not do it because of me

if you don’t want to do it, i understand

but don’t say no because ur worried about me

i meant what i said when i told you i can take 

care of myself

And I meant what I said when I

 told you to ask me for help.

I just kind of assumed it would be for

 literally anything else.

well

this is what im asking

Okay.

I’ll do it.

-

Reys’ palms were sweaty as she rode in the elevator up to Ben’s apartment. Part of her wanted to believe that she was nervous because she was dressed in greasy overalls that were two sizes too big for her, yet inside of a building where the median income was upwards of  seven figures. It had a fucking bellman. With gloves. 

She’d been here before, many times, but never on her way to work and never in anything less than her fanciest clothes. Rey knows Ben makes a lot of money, hotshot lawyer and all, and that he comes from money. But being inside of this building reminds her just what a difference of worlds they come from. And also that she’s asked someone who can afford to live here to do something a little scandalous. 

It’s not that she was nervous about smelling like him; that part she was looking forward to. It’s the actual act of scenting. Ben wasn’t editorializing when he said it was intimate. Scenting was a step down from a make out session, but not by much. Rey wishes the thought of doing this with Ben didn’t send a fresh wave of slick between her thighs. He would be able to smell her. He would never say anything, never want to embarrass her that way, but he would know. 

She tries not to think of that when she knocks on his door. It swings open moments later, to a frazzled looking Ben. He’s dressed for work, fancy slacks and crisp button down, and the stark reminder rings in her head again. She is also assaulted by how good he smells. It takes her a minute before she can speak.

“Hey.”

“Hi.” They stand in the doorway for an awkward second before Ben realizes he’s taking up the whole doorway and moves to let her in. Rey walks inside, instantly putting her ratty backpack on the ground by his couch. They say nothing to each other, just stare, waiting for the other to speak.

“This is weird,” Rey states. Not that it needs stating. “I feel bad, now. For having asked you. I shouldn’t have put this on you.” She sees him take a gulp before talking.

“I told you I’d help you if you needed it,” He reminds her. 

“I don’t think you had this in mind when you offered.”

“Not really. But I offered, so I’ll help. On one condition.” Rey cocks her head, narrowing her eyes at him.

“What?”

“The minute you find another job, a better job, you will leave this one. The minute, Rey.” 

It’s not what she was expecting him to say. But he wouldn’t be Ben if he did everything she suspects. She’s also not suspecting him to give such a command. A real one, alpha voice and all. It makes her shiver.

“I will,” She squeaks out, unable to say anything else. 

“Good.” His posture relaxes a bit and the wave of anger she felt the beginnings of, go away. They’re left standing together, silently. “So… how do you want to do this?” Ben asks.

“Um… I just figured we could hug? For like, a while. Being in you space is good because your scent will stick to my clothes too, so it doesn’t have to get so… touchy, if you don’t want.”

His jaw works.

“You think hugging will suffice?”

Rey shrugs.

“Its better than nothing. I don’t want to make you more uncomfortable than I already have.” 

“If we’re going to do this, I think we should be through. I don’t want you to have to go through this for nothing.”

Rey wants to say that just being able to smell him at all is reward enough, but there wasn’t time for that discussion. 

“Okay… so I’ll just…” She points to the barstool at his kitchen island, walks over to it and sits down. “If I’m on your things, it’s better. Sticks more.” She doesn’t know if its creeks in the building or a very low whine that Ben emits, but she ignores it.

He walks over to her, now seated on the stool, looking her up and down. Rey feels like she’s being appraised and really regrets her decision not to have washed her work clothes before coming over. His gaze is hot, and Rey thinks she’s panting harder with every step he makes towards her. 

“You’ll tell me if it’s too much. You’ll tell me to stop if you need me to.” Ben is between her legs now, having opened on the own volition. Rey manages to nod, and that’s enough for Ben. His hand comes to cup her jaw, and she instinctively leans into it. Her head lolls to the side, in his palm, as his face comes down to her neck. His nose rubs along her jaw, and she can feel his lips as they skirt along her pulse point. His other hand rest on the counter behind her, effectively trapping her in. 

Rey feels like putty. Ben’s scent is strong from across the room, but in her personal space? It’s suffocating. Her eyes close as she focuses all her attention on the way she can feel his stubble scrape along the sensitive skin of her under-jaw, and feels the faint pressure of his nose passing along her scent glands. He works himself slowly, leaving no skin untraced, before moving to the other side. He maneuvers her head to his other hand, before mirroring the same position they were in just a moment ago. She is glad she choose to sit; her knees would be useless.

His movements become more sure, tracing harder, and making Rey let out the most pathetic whimper she’s ever heard. Embarrassment instantly floods over her body, but before she can apologize, Ben growls. Literally growls. 

Suddenly his body is flush with hers, her thighs resting on the side of his hips. She feels his hand that isn’t holding her head move to grip her waist, digging his fingertips into the jean material covering her. She doesn’t realize her hands have worked their way to his abdominal muscles until she feels her hands tightly wind his shirt. 

His mouth traces along her scent glands, opening slightly, and she can feel his heavy breath on her skin. The first trace of his tongue on her glands makes Rey cry out, and involuntarily cant her hips into his. She feels his tongue, slick and hot, licking her then. Lavishing her glands in his saliva that made her head spin. Her heart beat was pounding, her ears rushing with blood. She could feel every part of him, his tongue, his hands, his lips, his hips. The growing hardness in his pants was pressed into her stomach as his hips rocked slightly in time with hers. 

When Rey snaps back into reality, she sees where this is going. And even though it physically pains her to stop him, she knows she has to. 

“Ben…” She whispers, his mouth still moving against her skin. “Ben,” She tries, voice a little surer now. He emits a low whine, making her stomach clench. Rey weaves her hand onto the side of his face before calling out again. “Ben.”

He stills then, body still flush against her, but mouth closed. She felt him pull back, not removing his hands, only lifting his torso so that they were looking at each other. His pupils are blown wide open, black covering the usual honeyed brown. His chest is heaving with his breath, and his mouth is slightly parted as he sucks in air. 

Rey feels something cool along her chin and realizes she’s been drooling, sliver running down her mouth in a thoroughly undignified manner. Her fingers quickly go to wipe it away and rub it into her clothes, but Ben takes her hand, covered in drool and sticks it into his mouth. 

His eyes close as she feels his tongue suck of any of the cool wetness, replacing it with saliva of his own. Rey keens and clenches her core. His tongue works around each digit, encircling all her fingers with his tongue. When Ben finishes his assault, he pulls her hand out of his mouth, but keeps it against his lips. His eyes are still closed as she feels the air from his nose one the wet surface of her hand.

Rey doesn’t dare move. She couldn’t if she wanted to. Ben is all around her, still between her legs, and she knows movement will mean brushing against the thickness she felt in his pants. A tickling sensation in her spine tells her that she doesn’t want to move. That beside this alpha is where she belongs and where she’ll be happy and where alpha will provide and-

It’s a lot. 

“Let me walk you to work.” Bens’ words are low, and send vibrations through her hand as he speaks, eyes still shut.

“What?” Rey is still a little breathless, but shock colors her voice. 

“I don’t think… I’m having a hard time… I can’t not be around you, right now. If I let you leave right now…” She feels the shiver that runs down his spine, “It wouldn’t be good. Especially since I know where you’re going.”

Rey can’t speak. She knew that alphas had a hard time letting go of omegas, even just for a few hours, but she’d always assumed that was for people who were mated. Not them, not after one scenting session, intensity notwithstanding. Rey gulps as she tries to find her voice.

“Okay… but we’ll stop a block away from the shop. I don’t want you to get into a territory fight with Plutt. I couldn’t…” bare to watch you get hurt. And I’m afraid I’d like it too much if you hurt him. 

“Don’t say another alphas name, right now… please.” His voice is pained and she can see the clenching in his jaw. She mumbles sorry’s as her thumb begins to trace his strong chin. 

When his eyes slowly reopen, they’re back to normal, the warm tones causing Rey to release a sigh of relief. They slowly detangle, and Rey tries to pretend she doesn’t see the bulge still in his crotch, and hopes that he couldn’t tell just how slick she had gotten. Rey excuses herself to the bathroom to clean up and give each of them a minute to collect themselves. 

She tries to wipe up the slick that ruined her underwear before splashing cool water on her still reddened cheeks. When she exits the bathroom, Ben is still close. It must be apart of the alpha sensation, being unable to part with their mate after being so… intimate. It warms parts of Rey that she didn’t even know existed. 

They are silent nearly the whole way there, but Ben is right next to her the whole way. He is never more than a breath away from Rey, unintentionally shielding her from the others they pass along the way. She can still feel him, the confusing mix of pheromones he’s giving off. There is only one she recognizes above all else: arousal.

She knows they’re a block away from work, not by the street corner, but the way Bens’ head snaps up when even the hint of Plutt makes itself known. After spending the whole morning inundated with Bens’ delicious smell, it nearly makes Rey retch. She feels Ben still at the opening of an alleyway and her body stops without her control. She looks back up at him, seeing the steely way his eyes rake over the street. He is unhappy and she doesn’t like it.

“What’s wrong?” She asks.

“You shouldn’t work here. It’s a bad place. I don’t want you here.” She knows its his alpha talking. That Ben wouldn’t be this controlling, overbearing man, but it makes her mad nonetheless.

“You can’t control where I work, Ben. I’m sorry you don’t like it, but it’s my choice. Now, thank you for… doing what you did, but I can handle it from here.” Rey goes to walk off, but Ben stops her. His hand comes out to grip hers, not in a tight, jerking way, but in a soft way that that makes it hard to refuse. 

“I’m sorry… you’re right.” His eyes are downcast, but he keeps his hand on hers. She feels a little guilty for snapping at him; after all, she’s the reason he’s experiencing these emotions. 

“It’s okay… I’m sorry, too.”

They stand there for a moment, knowing that this is making them both late, but neither of them having the heart to move. 

“We have to go to work now,” Rey says quietly. Ben nods. “Can I… talk to you, later?” She asks.

“Of course,” He breathes. Rey lets their hands drop and goes to turn to work, but Ben calls out for her. 

“Rey, please be safe. I need you to be safe.” 

Rey should be more used to his intensity by now, but it still makes her shiver.

“I will.”

-

come say hi on twitter!

[fightingsobriety]

Rain

So ive been learning a lot about myself lately. Been thinking a lot, why am i depressed all the time no matter what i do. I dont get it and it fucken hurts a lot. I thought for the longest that it was the drinking that was driving me to feel empty, worthless, useless, waste of time, but ends up it was the booze that was helping me cope because now that ive been sober these thoughts are more intense. Death is a constant trigger for me still and its not that im scared of dying any more than any other person, its a part of life but when i get these little attacks, death becomes something else that fills me with instant darkness and horrific fear and i start feeling an empty hole and im falling down face up, im never falling face down im always looking at a hole in the sky thats why i describe it as falling down a well. Then theres days i dont wanna get out of bed, my body is heavy , just feeling in a funk, nothing feels right or wrong i dont care about you or me i dont care if you hit me or call me names, i couldnt care less about anyone's feelings, nothing taste good and all i wanna do is be in bed and the world is grey to me. Dont get me wrong i love that i dont drink, eventho these thoughts drive me to break down at night... I do have those days were i wake up genuinely happy, everything smells better, i smell all the flavors, every song is the best song and nothing but smiles.... And man those days are worth fighting for. But its so hard to fight off those really bad days sober. I hate this sobriety most of the time cuz i much rather drink and forget but sometimes i find out the root of a certain feeling or a problem and i slowly feel my soul healing because after i figure out the problem i can start working to fix it and that puts a smile on my face. Im not done flourishing. But it hard. On a bright side i havent had that "i just wanna go home" feeling. Not sure what that was about. Oh well. Talking about works again.

[odds0cks]

Me too

TW: Rape, Sexual assault, victim blaming, mental health, self harm, alcoholism

I need to talk about rape and sexual assault. There never seems a “right moment” to post this but what with everything in the media right now, I figured now is the time.

For three years this has been eating me up inside. It has impacted my mental health and my physical health. I have developed a drinking problem since this happened and frankly, either I do this now or I’m going to be found dead in a gutter somewhere.

It is important to me to share my story. Women all over the world suffer in silence because the are too afraid that their perpetrators will retaliate. In some countries, some rape survivors are punished for having been subjected to such a horrific ordeal and let me tell you, surviving rape is horrific!

The last time I was raped was in 2014. The perpetrator wasn’t a stranger in some dark alley. He didn't force me. He didn’t attack me. Quite the opposite in fact. He was a trusted friend of many years who took advantage of me when I was at my most vulnerable.

Before the incident, I had had a particularly rough year. I had to move house, I had split with my partner, I lost my job and I had to leave uni. My mental health was not good. I had been rather looking forward to my 30th birthday. It was supposed to be one of those milestones you know? I had been planning my party for a long time. It was going to be a stupidly over the top ridiculous princess party. I had never been a princess, the idea of it repulsed me. However, I wanted to try it. Just once. I had invited more than 45 people to my party and was receiving plenty of “yes” responses. I was excited! I’ve never been particularly keen on birthdays and I thought this could change how I felt about them. It did. Just not in the way I had hoped!

By the time my birthday came, I’d had lots of “I’m sorry but…” messages. People couldn’t make my party. There were reasons/excuses. I was sad. After everything I had been through, my party was more than just a birthday celebration. It was a celebration of surviving. A celebration of riding out one of the darkest storms I had ever encountered.

Regardless of being let down by so many people, I decided to go ahead with my party anyway. After all, I had paid for it!

I had spent the day of my party getting stuff sorted. I tried to hide how shitty I felt by drinking. I couldn’t tell you the exact amount of alcohol I had consumed but it was a lot. Even by my own standards! By the time I left my mums to get to the venue I was extremely drunk. I don’t remember much of what happened. I know that only 4 of my friends, my mum, my aunty, their friend, my sister and her friend came. That was it. A party I had spent two years and more than £200 on was attended by a total of 9 people. Imagine just for a second how that feels. I have an exceptionally large family. Many of whom were invited. Only 3 family members came. Sure, they had their reasons (excuses) as to why they couldn’t (didn’t want to) come. Clearly it wasn’t as important to them as it was to me. That’s fine, you know? Not everyone has to value things in the same way. So how did I deal with being let down on such a huge scale? I got even more drunk!

I asked some of the people who were in attendance about how drunk I was. Just in case my brain had me exaggerating. Here’s the conversation:

Thanks everyone for agreeing to take part in this chat for me and my sanity. I know that my 30th was a long time ago but if anyone can recall anything from that day/night I would be most grateful. If we could just stick to that day/night and not anything that happened after I would be super grateful. Also, it may help jog memories if you have anything in Facebook for that date (29 Nov 2014). Take your time. Again, thank you.

_____________________

From what i can remember i know i turned up at the (VENUE NAME REDACTED), was introduced to a few people, was shown upstairs as there was a disco and people dancing, you were heavily flirting with (NAME REDACTED) to the point it was sexual dancing and i think you were kissing him at some point, i know i didn't want to dance and had to say a few times about it, after that i was downstairs talking to (NAME REDACTED) about random things and you kept making a scene about things, you told me that the DJ was a stripper as well and i didn't want to see it, you start complaining that everyone had to see him strip and i know it really annoyed me because i didn't want to see him strip and i had to tell your firmly about it and then you stopped talking about it, later we were on the stairs, i think we kissed and then you were in shock and went up stairs as everyone had gone, you told me not to follow so i didn't and i went back outside, you came down a little later saying that things happened with you and (NAME REDACTED). After you came downstairs you were in a state not to sure if it was to do with (NAME REDACTED) (FURTHER INFORMATION OMITTED AS NOT RELEVANT)

_____________________

Me and (NAME REDACTED) turned up and you were already extremely drunk and upset about people not turning up. We were hammering the cocktails. You were happy that (NAME REDACTED) had come because you were hoping to rekindle things. There was dancing and yes there was flirting with (NAME REDACTED). You were just Kim drunk, nothing unusual about the way you were behaving, you were trying to have a fun night. At some point I had to give you my bra as your dress ripped, not sure when. I also had to go home in a taxi and get you and (NAME REDACTED) a dress each of mine as yours was so torn up and (NAME REDACTED) had a drink spilt on hers, not sure when in the night this was. (NAME REDACTED) was flirting with you and (NAME REDACTED). We lost (NAME REDACTED) and found her upstairs chatting nerd stuff with (NAME REDACTED). I 'think' we left you and (NAME REDACTED) to clear up some stuff upstairs. You came down a different person. You lost your shit. You were kicking off about everything. You and (NAME REDACTED) did a lot of talking and at some point you were missing and we were all looking for you. Then as (NAME REDACTED) said, he spotted you and let us know where you were. We went on to bar69. My ex turned up and you and (NAME REDACTED) had to sort that situation out. You were drunker than I've ever seen you that night. I've probably missed bits which I will add if they come back to me. This is just what I can remember right now.

_____________________

I can't remember that much to be honest. I remember us turning up I think we were delayed for some reason and getting straight on the drinks because we wanted to make sure you had a blast. i remember talking to (NAME REDACTED) about doctor who for a bit and you (I think) came up and got me. I remember you guys dancing and I remember (NAME REDACTED) not wanting too which pissed you off a bit but you were ok. There was alot of flirting between you and (NAME REDACTED) but there was alot of flirting with everyone he was flirting with me at one stage during the Doctor Who convo. but it seemed to be flirting without intent if that makes sense? I remember being by the canal and you were really upset and not making alot of sense to me but that was down to me being drunk I think. I remember going to the cross foxes but don't remember being in there. I remember walking around looking for you and (NAME REDACTED) saying he had seen you on his way home. i cant really put things into any order because I was stupidly drunk and my memory is atrocious when sober.

_____________________

I cant remember much like i said... just remember u bein upset cuz not many ppl turned up which is understandable! And u were extremely drunk... i must of been drunk aswell cuz dont rememeber goin the foxes but rememeber bein in bar69 then walking home on my own... i remember u disappearin for abit with (NAME REDACTED) .. im sure i went into the toilets aswell and noticed the other toilet door bein shut for ages…

________________________________________________________________

One thing is for certain, that night I was very drunk. Beyond my usual drunk. Too drunk and in such a poor state of mind psychologically that I could not possibly have consented to sex or sexual activity.

I messaged him a few days after the fact and again almost two years later in a bid to salvage the friendship. Below is the correspondence:

__________________________________________

My first message to him:

I have been over Saturdays events repeatedly in my head. I was horrified to wake up and find blood down my legs and bruises that may or may not be related. I have absolutely no recollection of the events from Saturday during my party. I'd sobered somewhat in the aftermath and I can recall some of what happened when my friends and I went up town. Mostly because I had what I can only describe as a breakdown. What I do know is that I was beyond drunk. That much must have been evident to you. When you said that we'd had sex, initially I was mortified. Then I felt shame and embarrassment and now I'm just angry. Despite the fact that we may have already agreed that we would "probably" have sex, I was so beyond drunk that there is no way I could have consented and with you being completely sober you were the one in control and you fully took advantage. Having spent the last 3/4 days in a complete state of shock, I have now come to accept that this was, without question, rape. I had been blaming myself for what happened because a) I had allowed myself to get that drunk and b) it was almost inevitable that we would have sex as is/was the nature of our friendship. However, it is still not ok and in the eyes of the law, that is still rape. Not only have I been absolutely destroyed by this situation, anything that I may have had with (NAME REDACTED) has been completely obliterated. You knew full well how I felt about him. I am aware that I don't have a "conventional" outlook on relationships but it still does not give you or, indeed, anyone else permission to have sex with me when I have no control of my faculties. I am unsure as to what I want to do right now. I have been repeatedly advised to go to the police but I'm not sure that's the right course of action for either of us. One thing I know for sure is that our friendship is well and truly over. Since this happened, I can no longer trust you. I have no faith that this was just a "one off" and that it would "never happen again". Having been in a domestically abusive relationship, those words mean nothing to me. The thing that bothers me the most is your blasé message to me he morning after. "Oh it's a shame you don't remember"! Does that not ring alarm bells for you? Part of me wants to go to the police as I couldn't live with myself if I'd allowed another man to walk free and rape again but part of me knows that I wouldn't be able to cope owing to what happened in my past and my already fragile mental state. I guess that I just want you to say that you know it was wrong. That you did take advantage and that it was rape and not consensual sex.

His reply:

I am really sorry that you feel this way. I could tell you were drunk, but you didn't seem so drunk that I thought you wouldn't be able to remember. You had been coming on to me from the very start of the evening, which given our history did not ring alarm bells for me. When everyone had gone downstairs and it seemed like no one was coming back you climbed onto me and asked me to have sex with you. So I followed you into the toilets and we did. It was not forced and it certainly was not rape. However, looking at it now, as the sober one between us I should have said no to you, but given our history I thought it was what you wanted. I was obviously completely wrong. So for that I am sorry. I can't begin to understand why you would think I would do anything to hurt you, or anyone else. That isn't who I am. But I can see that this has really upset you, and for that I am truly sorry. I am also sorry to lose you as a friend. Goodbye

My message two years on:

It's been almost two years since we last saw each other and we didn't part ways pleasantly. That was not what I wanted. We have been friends and more for a very long time and I valued every asset of our friendship and honestly, I miss it. The reason for writing now is because the past two years have had such a negative impact on my mental health. I Thought I had reached rock bottom but I wasn't even close. I don't want to hit rock bottom. I can't afford to hit rock bottom. Every other aspect of my life seems to be working out but this one thing is looming over me like a rabid beast and threatening to consume me and everything I have worked so hard to create. The problem was not what happened, it was the way things unfolded afterwards. Your reaction hurt and shocked me. I thought, given the nature of our friendship, you would have wanted to talk things through. Try to figure things out together and make things right. I don't know why things played out the way they did. I imagine my accusation was a shock to you. It was a shock to me too. I sought advise from some very close friends before my original message to you and it took me a very long time to actually see that they were right. I don't for one second think that you're a bad person. I never did. What I want is a chance for the to of us to talk about things. Preferably face to face. It may not change things but I know there is a chance which is why I am doing this. I hope to hear from you.

His reply:

Thank you for your message. Before we start anything, I want one thing cleared up, for my own peace of mind. What happened was not rape. This is not me being dismissive. Believe me it haunted me to think I may have done that, I was shocked by the accusation and needed time to process it. I have looked into it, and I know, for certain, that what happened was not rape. Below is an excerpt from UK law. "The question of capacity to consent is particularly relevant when a complainant is intoxicated by alcohol or affected by drugs. In R v Bree [2007] EWCA 256, the Court of Appeal explored the issue of capacity and consent, stating that, if, through drink, or for any other reason, a complainant had temporarily lost her capacity to choose whether to have sexual intercourse, she was not consenting, and subject to the defendant's state of mind, if intercourse took place, that would be rape. However, where a complainant had voluntarily consumed substantial quantities of alcohol, but nevertheless remained capable of choosing whether to have intercourse, and agreed to do so, that would not be rape. Further, they identified that capacity to consent may evaporate well before a complainant becomes unconscious. Whether this is so or not, however, depends on the facts of the case. In cases similar to Bree, prosecutors should carefully consider whether the complainant has the capacity to consent, and ensure that the instructed advocate presents the Crown's case on this basis and, if necessary, reminds the trial judge of the need to assist the jury with the meaning of capacity.

" Being drunk does not preclude you from giving consent. It is only when incapacitated (ie unconscious or incoherent) that consent cannot be given, nor can it be assumed to still be in place even if given before this state occurs. When we had sex you were conscious and coherent the whole time. Consent was given (you basically dragged me into the toilet cubicle). I did not rape you. I would not do that, to you or anyone. That is what hurt me most. I was being attacked and hounded over a serious allegation of something I had not done. I felt closing off was the best course of action. I did not mean to hurt you. I was just protecting myself. I hope you can now see things as I do.

________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

He takes absolutely no responsibility for his actions and made no attempt to fix our friendship. Instead he dumped all of it on my lap and walked away.

Was he right? Was it ok for him to fuck me in the state I was in? The only person who thinks he is right is him. Every other friend/professional/stranger I have discussed this matter with has said he was in the wrong.

According to the law:

The Sexual offences Act 1956 contains no statutory definition of 'consent'. Juries must be told that the word should be given its ordinary meaning, and that there is a difference between 'consent' and 'submission'.

Lack of consent may be demonstrated by:

The complainant's assertion of force or threats;

Evidence that by reason of drink, drugs, sleep, age or mental disability the complainant was unaware of what was occurring and/ or incapable of giving valid consent; or

Evidence that the complainant was deceived as to the identity of the person with whom (s)he had intercourse.

A boy or girl under the age of 16 cannot consent in law, (Archbold 2004, 20-152).

Consent should be carefully considered when deciding not only what offence to charge but also whether it is in the public interest to prosecute. Sometimes consent is given, or appears to be given, but the law does not treat it as effective consent.

Based on the above, I was raped. His rebuttal two years on is taken directly from the CPS website. However, what he fails to add is the final paragraph:

Prosecutors and investigators should consider whether supporting evidence is available to demonstrate that the complainant was so intoxicated that he/she had lost their capacity to consent. For example, evidence from friends, taxi drivers and forensic physicians describing the complainant's intoxicated state may support the prosecution case. In addition, it may be possible to obtain expert evidence in respect of the effects of alcohol/drugs and the effects if they are taken together. Consideration should be given to obtaining an expert's back calculation or the opinion of an expert in human pharmacology in relation to the complainant's level of alcohol/ drugs at the time of the incident.

Based on the summaries provided by other people in attendance that night, I was heavily intoxicated. Surely, any “normal” human being would notice just how intoxicated I was and - being stone cold sober - would refuse to engage in sexual activity with me?

This is what I have been dealing with for the past three years. This is why I’m in the mess that I am in. This is why I can’t go to cabaret shows without feeling his presence there - He was a performer. This is why I have issues with trust right now. This is why I’m always so angry, so frustrated, so depressed. This is why my drinking has spiralled. This is why I am self harming more than ever.

I don’t want sympathy or pity. I don’t want people to tell me that it will be ok. He wasn’t the first person to rape me. You never get over being violated in this way. You just learn to cope. I am hoping that by putting this out in the public sphere, I will be able to move on and start fixing myself.

I also want to challenge the mainstream notion of rape. Rape isn’t always forceful or aggressive. The perpetrator is rarely a stranger. We have this image that has been cultivated by the media. A rapist is a creepy person, staring eyes, physically imposing. This is not always the case.

If you find yourself in this position, just stop and think. If you are completely sober and someone incredibly intoxicated wants to have sex with you, tell them no. If they lash out because you said no, just walk away.

Rape can happen to anyone of any age, gender, sex, sexual orientation, race, religion etc.

Don’t become another statistic.

________________________________________________________________

If anyone is affected by my story or is struggling with their own story, please come and talk to me. Drop me a message on Facebook, ask for my number, ask if we can meet. I have all the time in the world for you because I know what it’s like to have to go through this alone. Please don’t think that you have to keep quiet. Please don’t think that I will judge you. I am here for you and I promise I will listen regardless of your age, sex, gender, race, religion, sexual orientation or sexual history.

FURTHER READING

https://everydayfeminism.com/2016/05/alcohol-and-consent-questions/

https://www.teenvogue.com/story/is-drunk-sex-considered-rape

https://www.sdcda.org/helping/prevent-rape/price-brochure.pdf

https://news.vice.com/story/when-is-someone-legally-too-drunk-to-consent

https://www.cps.gov.uk/publications/equality/vaw/what_is_consent_v2.pdf

http://sexpression.org.uk/consent-in-sexual-contact/

[sutterbabe]

#6 Auston Matthews

okay so that hurt auston matthews one was so good, could you write something more like that? maybe not him being injured but just frustrated bc the leafs are losing lots of games or something like that

I LOVE ANGST but im v bad bc i just write everyone happy smh

Tbh i just realised i got two similar requests in a row

Warnings: language idk?? 

Song suggestion of the day: Scorpio by Emily Bea (its so sweet and I.. AWH)

You narrowed your eyes a little as you tried to concentrate on the garbled instructions on the other end of the phone over the noise of the television blaring in the next room. You found yourself apologising quickly as you ducked your head out of the kitchen, covering the bottom of the phone as you did so. “Auston can you turn that down a bit.” You called, but you didn’t bother to linger long enough to see if your boyfriend, who was sat rigidly on the couch glaring at the TV, would actually comply with your request.

“Sorry,” you murmured into the phone, pressing a hand to your other ear as you attempted to catch what they were asking you as you tried to update your health insurance for the third time this week. “Okay, yep.” you replied, hastily scrawling something down on the notepad you had ready. You suppressed a groan of annoyance as the TV continued to play at exactly the same volume. “I’m so sorry.” you told the woman on the other end of the line before you walked into the living room, covering the phone again and resorting to standing in front of the TV to get your boyfriend’s attention. “Auston, can you please turn that down, I’m on the phone.”

Usually this wasn’t a problem but the way Auston had been acting lately was anything but usual. Your sweet and charming boyfriend had been moody and overly sarcastic for the past couple of weeks. No matter how open to talking you’d made yourself to him he was having none of it. So you’d given him space and hoped he’d sort himself out but now you were of the opinion that it had gotten a little out of hand. Auston had been watching his old games at full volume and you’d tried to be accomodating. He hardly spoke to you and you’d tried to be patient with him. He was hardly home and you tried to be understanding. But seeing as you were trying to keep this house functional, your patience was wearing thin.

Auston huffed exasperatedly and switched the TV off, stalking off to the bedroom and shutting the door rather louder than required. You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose as you raised the phone to your ear again. “I’m so sorry. I’ll have to call you back.” you explained, sighing wearily. ‘my boyfriend is being difficult’ you muttered as you set the phone on the coffee table after hanging up.

Steeling yourself for the horrific glare you were about to receive for even mentioning the leafs losing streak, you crossed the living room and made for the bedroom, where Auston had just retreated. Knocking gently, you received no reply and opened the door to the bedroom to find Auston, arms crossed and glaring at his phone screen.

“I hope you’re not subtweeting me.” you joked, hoping to lighten the mood a little. If possible he glared at his phone even harder. You sighed, “Well, I didn’t want to have this conversation, but here we are: I’m getting out my intervention shirt.”

“Your intervention shirt looks like shit.”

“You’re one to talk, Mr Harambe-sweater.” you replied coolly as you walked over to your cupboard and pulled out the awful eyesore that was your home tie-dye job and the words ’THIS IS AN INTERVENTION’ scrawled in thick black lettering. Auston shot you a glare as you plonked yourself down on the bed, beside him.

“I don’t need an intervention” he stated defiantly.

You hummed. “That is literally the motto of people who need interventions.”

He rolled his eyes. “I need an intervention because I didn’t turn the TV down?” he retorted incredulously. “Fine. I’m sorry. There, happy?"

You narrowed your eyes at him. “I get that you’re pissy but don’t lash out at me.”

“I’m not..” you watched him clench his jaw, the muscle there twitching slightly.

“I know you’re going to glare at me for saying this, but I’m going to do it anyway. No one cares that the leafs are having a slump.” you stated a matter-of-factly.

“Bullshit.” he snapped, giving you such a ferocious glare that you actually winced away from him. He glanced away at the sight.

Taking a deep breath, you pushed on. “it’s true. You see it all the time. Sometimes a team has a shitty season but their fans aren’t going to give up on you. You play for the leafs! These guys haven’t seen a Stanley since the 1967!”

"That makes it worse!” he retorted irritably, rounding on you. “Their hopes are riding on me. It’s because of me that they think we actually have a chance at the playoffs and I can’t even score a fucking goal! You think you’re so goddamn smart, you think you know everything, huh? Then why can’t we win a fucking game?!”

You had moved away to the other side of the bed at the onslaught of his words, which were unnecessarily harsh. Auston wilted visibly and quickly glanced away, running a hand through his hair frustratedly. He opened his mouth a couple of times but didn’t speak, taking his time to decide what to say next. “I...I didn’t mean to yell.” 

“I’ll give you some space.” you stated softly, standing to leave the room.

You knew Auston was just frustrated and he really didn’t mean anything he’d said but you also knew that you were very nearly crying, which you didn’t want to do. This was about Auston and crying was not the way you wanted to solve this. After pulling yourself together, you called the health insurance back, finished making dinner and cleaned up the living room all before Auston finally chose to emerge from the bedroom. 

“I’m going out.” He told you, powering down the hallway to the front door as quickly as his legs could take him, which made you think he was avoiding you now.

You stepped out of the kitchen to see him shrugging on his coat. “I made dinner. Did you want to take some with you, or are you eating out too?” The last few words came out harsher than you expected. Auston didn’t grant you a reply, just grunted out an ‘i love you’ as he slammed the door behind him.

So that went well. Auston was AWOL, you had way more food than you could possibly hope to eat on your own and just to add to that, your boyfriend was simultaneously furious with you and losing his mind over his slump. You sighed, walking back into the kitchen and scraping the pasta off Auston’s plate and back into the saucepan, popping the lid back on top to try and keep it warm. 

Half an hour later, you heard the front door close, causing you to wander out into the hallway to see why he was back so early. You were greeted by a bouquet of five (half-dead, i might add) assorted flowers and a block of home-brand chocolate.

“Everything was closed.” Auston grumbled, pushing them into your hands as you blinked up at him in surprise. Sensing your confusion, he shifted uncomfortably. “I felt bad for yelling at you. I thought they’d look nicer than they do though.” he added, gesturing to the flowers.

You smiled gently, and leaned up to kiss his cheek. “Well it’s the thought that counts right.” you chuckled. He smiled weakly as he followed you back into the kitchen where you set up the flowers in a vase (that was actually an empty cookie jar since you had no vases). “I know this is frustrating for you right now.” you began. “I get how hard it must be. You’re under a lot of pressure.”

“Y/N..” Auston mumbled, clearly still not willing to talk about it.

“You’re frustrated and upset and I get that.” you continued. “but this,” you gestured wildly towards the TV. “Its not healthy, its not helping, and most of all,” you paused. “it’s not you.” you fell silent for a moment to gage his reaction but when he didn’t say anything, you pushed on. “I know it’s hard to believe. But it’s not your fault.” The american sighed slightly and you fixed him with a stern look. “You,” you prodded his chest gently. “are way too hard on yourself, mister.”

He chuckled a little at that, tugging you into a hug. You grinned up at him and kissed his nose gently, which caused him to scrunch up his face. Sobering up a little, he stared down at you.

“It’s not as easy as you make it seem.” he told you sincerely.

“I know,” you nodded. “but you’re already under so much pressure, don’t add anymore, hey?”

He ducked his head gently in a nod and you smiled softly, running your thumb over his bottom lip.

“Well I’ve got a block of chocolate and friends reruns ready on the TV.” you smirked. “Care to join me, Matthews?”

You could feel his laugh before it escaped his lips. “I suppose i can’t say no, can I?”

You shrugged shamelessly. “Guilt trip.”

“Lucky I love you so much, then.” He murmured with a laugh as he bent down to kiss you gently.

“Mhm.” you hummed in agreement as he straightened up. “unfortunately that means you aren’t getting away with that.” you added, tugging him gently back down by his collar, grinning at the sensation of his laughter against your mouth.

[thebrightestringaroundthemoon]

anyway time to use this blog for what i created it for i guess and type out a big long thing about how im a worthless piece of shit and should pour myself a nice big glass of creamer, sugar, and clorox. i literally serve like? no purpose? in life? at all? im a completely directionless failure that operates with about the complexity of a fucking roomba, running into the same goddamn couch over and over again and slightly redirecting. if i get lucky, i run into a different couch, but nothing fucking changes. i do the exact same thing over and over again: surround myself with wonderful, fantastic people, fuck it up and make them hate me, and then spiral into a pit of my own pointless fucking despair until i realize im such a fucking failure of a person i cant even muster the energy it takes to fucking die so i just get up again in the morning and go again. rinse and fucking repeat. and its not like i have some horrible life or anything, im just profoundly unfit to exist on this planet. i have wonderful friends who actually, honest to god care about me and its evidently not good enough for me?? so i just respond to everything by assuming the worst, spiralling, and being too much of a dumb bitch to fucking talk to A N Y B O D Y about A N Y T H I N G cuz i guess i’d rather make a dumb edgy tumblr blog named after the lyrics to a fucking asia song than actually solve any of my problems. i guess its too much to solve a problem when the fundamental core of who you are as a person is the fucking problem. i mean, there is a solution, but ive already covered why nobody needs to be worried about me doing that! bnobody needs to be worried about me doing anytuhing! accomplishing anything! ever becoming anything! ever managing to do much more than drag myself out of bed in the morning and inspire a profoundly sad mixture of pity and annoyance in everyone iv’e ever come into fucking contact with! im sitting here debating fixing the fucking apostrophe in the last sentence and its driving me fucking mad while real people have real fucking problems and my cardboard cutout ass bad edgy teen novel stupid bitch excuse for a person ass is sitting here doing THIS with my fucking time. I have things i shuold be doing, could be doing, but this is legitimately all i can bring myself to fucking contribute to society at this point. the surest sign that the people around me are fucking saints is that theyve stuck around this fucking long but honestly i dont fucking undeerstand. i guess thats the whole point of shit like saints, you arent supposed to be able to understand, its superhuman compassion, even for those who dont fucking deserve it. or maybe its just because i fundamentally dont work. i dont have any sort of actual power when it comes to my life. these are the idle musings of a bewildered spectator, the one person who comes to the party, stays sober, and sits on the sidelines and watches the fucking idiocy unfold. except instead of drunkenly stumbling around and telling my friends how much i love them, im stone cold sober and sitting on the sidelines watching myself fail to take even the most basic fucking steps towards fixing literally any problem that im dealing with. broken. non functional. i dunno if i was born a failure, though. i think that might be giving myself a little too much credit. other people were dealt infinitely worse hands than i was and they turned out fucking wonderful. i know a couple of them. no, i think im the way i am because of me. i probably had all the chances i needed to become something resembling a human being, and instead im whatever i am now. how can i be excited about some sort of future for myself when i can barely manage a relatively privliged day to day existance? i have friends, im not starving, im in college, i have an apartment. im far from rich but im able to afford to go to college. that should be enough. why the fuck isnt that enmough. why cant i just be fucking satisfied why cant i muster some sort of positive fucking emotions why does joy last a few moments why can i do this so much easier than writing anything positive about my life why does this flow like it does like a fucking river why cant i stop my hands why why what the fuck why why am i like this why was i born why am i who i am it flows so easily it just comes out but i cant tell anyone and i cant rely on anyone because im not anyone in noone im the fucking nobody that people keep around them to make themselves feel better and the only reason i have the slightest bit of doubt about that is that i love my friends too much to ever accuse them of something like that but then again does it fucking count when its someone like me do i qualify as a fucking person does it count as hurting someone’s feelings or using them when that someone isn’t a someone is just an empty fucking shell that was only gifted with the capacity to retain HURT thats all i can fucking remember thats all that sticks with me HURT i cant fucking be rid of it and its not some sort of innate inherent biological failing its who i am as a person i did this to myself i do this to myself i dont know that i will ever stop doing this to myself. all i can hope for is that one day i gain the strrength the fucking self esteem and self respect to kill myself. maybe it isnt self respect i need for that but respect for my friends. its selfish to put them through me. the pain they’d feel from my death would last a short time if at all. it would be so much better than forcing them to know me for however long this failing fucking body will carry my empty shell of a spirit onwards thjrough a world that i dont deserve to fucking inhabit. my inner monologyue put on paper sounds like a fucking evanescence song and i hate myself for it so much jesus fucking christ. i fundamentally do not like myself. as a person. on any level. i do not like myself. i wouldnt be friends with me, and ironically i hate myself for that too. but who would? who the fuck would? why does anyone? do they? maybe thats my one fucking talent. convincing people im likable. worming my way into their fucking lives until they trust me only to realize that i am not a human being. im an empty shell, a fucking roomba of a person. i can tell when ive run into something and back up so i can run into it again. i cannot solve my own problems. i cannot even conceptualize them. im something below a human cursed with the fucking ability to think at the level of one. my ocd is really really desperately trying to get me to scroll up and fix all the spelling and grammar errors but i dont know if itll hurt more to ignore them or to have to read the dumb ashit i just wrote. earlier i said that i wanted this to flow less easily and here we are i guess. though earlier i meant it in the context of only being able to properly conceptualize negative feelings and never being abkle to hold onto anything piositive i feel, and that hasn’t been magically fixed or anything, im just having trouble feeling anything at all now. im a completely blank slate. i havent even cried once troday. i cant. i cant care about my own fucking inadequacy and failure as a very basic human being enough to even fucking cry. i cried about an anime a couple nuights ago. i can muster emotion for that. but as soon as i look inwards i dont see ahyuthing thEres NOTHING FUICKING THERE THERE IS NOTHING FUCKING THERE THERE IS NOTHING FUCKING THERE I AM NOT A HUMAN BEING I AM NOT A HUMAN BEING I AM BROKEN I AM EMPTY I AM A {PLAGUE ON WHOEVER HAS THE PURE FUCKING MISFORTUNE TO BE A GOOD ENOUGH PERSON TO TAKE PITY ON ME i dont want to die, even. too many steps, too much feeling, too much. i just want to stop. to end. i want to no longer be. ill lock tghat away with all the other things id love to happen but know never will. that ones at the forefront though. it always will be. until i grow the fucking compassion to put others out of my misery. my roomate just texted me an innocuous questiona nd i texte d bacjk normally emojis and all im normal dont you see everyone im normal nothings wrong with me. oh sure sometimes i have a bad day but im fine everybody IM FINE you aren’t you have to put up with me ill fucking worm my way into your life and convince you im a real human being you can hold a congersation with only to snatch the fucking rug out from under you as soon as you actually attempt to engage with me on any level and i just end up eiother hurting you or revealing accidently that there is no such thing as luna thats not a fucking person its a name assigned to a loose collections of disorders, bad habits, and a gaping emotional black hoile from which nothing can fucking escape, jammed into an ugly broken body thats going to kill me early and doesnt even compensate by making me hot. wHEE. and of course, unable to be happy with anything, i will simultaneously complain about my own impending death due to horrific nutrition, subastance abuse (just the fun kinds so people dont realize anything is wrong WHEEEE) and some fucky illness that ive now gone and stopped medicating because im a stupid worthless bitch, AND I WILL COMPLAIN ABOUT THIS WHILE SIMULATENOUSLY WANTING TO DIE what do i want? who the fuck knows! not me! that’s a redundant statement, of course “me” doing know bercause thats not a thing im not a person! id love to blame it on my complete and total internal faliure as a person that i always end up hurting people, but honestly its probably because i dont put enough fucking effort in. even right now,. literally hours after a good friend of mine ostaroted feeling like shit in a way that is almost for sure my fucking fault, im doing THIS instead of trying to right the situation (to b fair she made a point of not inviting me but inviting the rest of the group?) or did she am i just reading into this? who knows! who the fuck knows! everyone but “me”! ejveryone else knows! becayuse its probably REALALLY FUCKING SIMPLE BUT NOOOOO I CANT EVEN MANAGE THAT CAN I I CANNNOT EVEN FUCKING MANMAGE TO MANAGE THAT CAN I thats too much for lil ol me! i am aggressively pointless! i am the single least important collection of fucking atoms on this planet! every last fucking rock i stepped on walking to and from the class that i skipped half of today is more important and has contribtued more to the grand scheme of things than i ever have or ever will, and thats jkust the inanimate fucking objects on the ground. lets not even get started on all the actual people whose time my existance waste, who i am a fucking affront to  by sheer virtue of being in any way associated with them at any point in time ever. i guess this is it, this is what i get when my entire personlaity is a loosely cobbled together collection of self deprecating jokes and a fake ego, desperately attempting to patch over an interior that has holes in it less than it just is one giant fucking hole. i was, am, and will be nothing, not even enough to earn the use of “I” at the beginning of the sentence. dinner is in 15 minutes. my friends will be there. im paralyzed. i belive every word i wrote above so why

would i inflict myself upon them but i 

i cant not

i so deeply want to

to go sit in uncharacteristic silence and hope somebnody notices and asks me whats up so i can give them a dumb, abridged, mostly fake version and get the sad pity looks and then feel bad about exploiting them and then

rinse

repeat

because i am not a person