#I’ve literally counseled this girl through half her shit this year and then she doesn’t even invite me to her birthday that she invited | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

lavendertwilight89 · 4 years

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Sake

THAT’S RIGHT!!!! TWO IN ONE DAY!!!! HOLY COW!!! HAPPY BIRTHDAY @keichanz

And we alllllllll know our girl the smut queen of the kingdom so what did I do??

WROTE HER SHAMELESS SMUT

You have been warned!

Here is the link to AO3

Tag Wall:

@dangerouspompadour @lemonlushff @willowandfog @cstormsinukagblog @littlestuffstohide @clearwillow @ruddcatha @hnnwnchstr @smmahamazing @wolverine1092 @inuyashaloverforever @xfangheartx @umacaking @bluejay785 @murdergiraffe @superpixie42 @shnuggletea @sistasecbhere @nopenname22 @mcornilliac @sapphirestarxx @fawn-eyed-girl @liz8080 @shinidamachu @keichanz @neutronstarchild @arcprz @eternalnight8806-3 @kaze-ranna Kagome awoke to a pounding headache. It literally felt like it weighed as much as Hiraikostu. Kagome had only tried to pick it up once until she realized it weighed like a thousand pounds. Ok, that was an exaggeration. But not by too much.

It had been a little less than a month since she had returned to the feudal era to be with Inuyasha. Yesterday was her birthday (at least from what she calculated). She had been so excited that she demanded that everyone celebrate. Everyone in her context meant Sango, Miroku, Shippo, Kaede, Rin, Kirara, and of course, Inuyasha. Not the whole village.

But the headman insisted. She was training to become the new head priestess to take over for Kaede. Because she would become such an icon in the village, the headman proclaimed that this would also serve as a welcome back party as well as an introduction to her becoming a priestess in the village since originally she was ‘traveling’.

And did they celebrate. Kagome had never really partaken in drinking before. She had gone to highschool parties with her friends but it had never really piqued her interest to become so intoxicated she wouldn’t be able to remember what she had done or had her thoughts blurred and do something she’d regret the following morning.

Her friend Yuka had been on the wrong end of some alcohol; her boyfriend and her had gone all the way on accident. Something of which Yuka regretted because not only did she not remember her first time, but they had also gotten into such a huge fight about everything, they had broken up.

However every villager wanted to share the cup with her. They were so excited she had returned and wanted the blessings her presence offered. They were also thankful for a stubborn and gruff half-demon to be present for once. They claimed he had been so distant since her departure that her appearance was amazing.

The called her return a sign from the Gods that their village would prosper; the fact not only a strong and loyal half-demon but also a powerful priestess, both of whom battled and slayed the evil Naraku, were staying and living in the village could only mean they would have good fortune and tidings.

The villagers also coaxed Inuyasha into drinking with them--something of which she had never really seen him do aside from when they visited the poison master when Sango needed her weapon fixed.

However, she learned then as well, he had a very high tolerance. She… did not.

She was about six cups in when she noticed him lingering near her, unwilling to separate from her. Not that she complained. Oh no. She did not at all. In fact, her body craved for the touch and closeness of him.

For three years all she had was wild fantasies about her untamed hanyou. And the night she returned… well… that had been the night. They spent the whole night learning every dip, curve, swell, blemish, and nook their bodies possessed. He kissed, laved, nipped, nibbled, and bit every surface of her. She, of course, returned the favor. But his marks remained for days, the thoughts still made her shiver from joy and heat. Heat in her belly that demanded he do it all day everyday.

He also ended up marking her to her absolute happiness; something he had originally wanted to wait to do but after multiple couplings and when he finally took her on her hands and knees, he couldn’t stop himself. She assured him that was exactly what she had wanted though.

She felt something move beneath her that brought her out of her dazed and blissful thoughts of her mate. Wait--where was she?

Groaning she started to sit up, realizing immediately that was a very poor decision. Thankfully the body she was apparently laying on pulled her back down to lay on the hard chiseled chest she had fallen asleep on.

“Rest,” he moaned.

“Yash…?” She whispered hesitantly. What was he doing there?

“Nah, I’m my fucking brother. Duh, it’s me. You think I’d let anyone in your hut to see you like this?? To let anyone lay with you like this??”

“To be honest, I don’t remember too much from last night and your voice sounds nails on a chalkboard--”

“Nails on a what?!”

“Sorry, thing in my world Just shhhhh…” she whispered snuggling into his bare chest before she felt him tense.

“Kagome--”

“Please, just--lemme sleep like you just told me to??”

“Kagome--”

“Why are you acting so anxious? I was just making sure it was you.”

“Why though? Is there someone else that you’d wanna be this way with?’

“Don’t be ridiculous, of course not!” she yelled sitting up, immediately regretting the action. “Why are you being so insecure! I told you when I came back I wanted to be with you! You were the one who wanted to hide our relationship for the time being!! You were the one who didn't want to get caught in my hut at night!"

“Yea, well, that was more for your honor than mine.”

“Why?! Did I say something last night that indicated I didn’t want this??”

“Not in so many words…”

She finally took her bearings; they were in her hut, on her futon, she was still in her miko garbs--at least her haori. Her hakama were tossed by the door of her hut along with her panties. Inuyasha was sitting up leaning against the wall behind them gazing down at her worriedly. What did she do or say that got him so rattled up?

“What happened??”

“What do you remember exactly?”

“Drinking… I remember sharing a lot of sake with people for ‘good fortune’. They should have called it for ‘good death' instead. Ugh, can people die from being hungover?”

“Keh, Miroku and Sango drank a decent amount at their wedding but were fine the next morning. Must just be weak priestesses.”

“I’d take your words more seriously if you were wearing a shirt and weren’t holding me close to your God-like body.”

“Whatever.”

“Don’t pout it’s not becoming, Inuyasha.”

“Go on. What else do you recall?” He pressed on. He was certainly touchy that morning.

“Uhmmm… after the sixth villager I remember you were starting to stick close to me.”

“Yea, because you were getting friendly.”

“Friendly?”

“Yea, giggling and laughing at those stupid men in the village who were trying to hit on you and shit.”

“Ohhhh, well what they said must’ve made me laugh because of the alcohol and knowing they’d never get their shot with me.”

“And…?”

“Shesh, did I not blow you last night or something? You’re extra cranky.”

“And now you think I’d take advantage of a woman like that?!”

“Jeez what is your problem!?! I told you I love you, stupid. You. As in you, Inuyasha. Y-O-U! I have never thought about another man before or anything else. We have obviously been intimate since I got back and I had no thoughts on stopping anytime soon! Why are you being so jealous and upset right now?! I was marked as yours!”

“Because when I started growling you sat me into the fucking ground and told me to behave like a fucking ‘good boy’.”

Kagome couldn’t help but laugh. Hard. It shouldn’t have been that funny. Honestly, if she was Inuyasha, she would likely be upset too but she could honestly picture the whole scene of her being ditzy, staggering around, and then him being too possessive and her reacting like she used to in the old days.

His snarl and sudden movements beneath her jostled her. Ugh, her stomach hurt. Did she mention her head hurt? He made to grab his kosode when she stopped him.

“Wait, wait, I’m sorry. I was just picturing it. I’m sorry. You know I don’t think of you like that, Inuyasha. I want to be your mate and wife. I’ve let you take me from behind, let you lick, nip, and bite all over my body. You know I don’t have an issue with you being half inuyoukai. Hell, I even rub your ears after we’ve had sex. Did they say something??”

“More or less,” he said, averting his eyes.

“Inuyasha. You know what other people say or think doesn’t matter. What matters is that I love you. Claws, dog ears, silver silky smooth hair, amber eyes that I could get lost in for days…” Oh Gods… she had stood and pulled his face to hers and true to her words; she was lost. Her core begged for him already. Demanded his attention. The mark on her back called to him.

Obviously they hadn’t had sex or anything last night; he was offended at the idea of taking her when she was that far gone. Again, something likely a villager man said. But she couldn’t imagine she actually flirted with any of them. She obviously made it home with him. Clearly tried to do something with him as well to which he stopped.

“Fuck. Kagome--I’m trying to be mad at you,” he groaned pressing his nose into her shoulder. “Stop smellin’ like that.”

“Can’t help it,” she breathed as her finger began to dance along the sides of his body until they reached the obi of his hakama and slightly tugged testing to see how mad he actually was...

When his hands didn’t stop hers, she released the tie and fell to her knees and engulfed his already hardened length into her mouth.

His claws stroked her scalp and threaded through her hair. Gods, his moans, his groans, his growls made her so wet. But this was about calming the inner beat within him. Or, was it about counseling the human heart that felt so many doubts? Who really knew. Either way, this was about proving her love to him. Ensuring he knew who she really wanted in her life, in her body--and currently in her mouth.

She used her tongue to coat his cock with her spit to make sure it was slick and ready to be taken fast and hard. She learned quickly she lacked a gag reflex. Thank every Kami out there because Inuyasha was far from average. In regards to everything. Bobbing her head, she ate his sounds like they were her fuel; technically they were since they were the things that made her grind her own thighs together for some relief as the flame in her own sex was growing larger and larger, demanding for someone to stroke it. But this wasn’t about finding her own pleasure. No. Not yet.

That morning it was all about him. She felt his cock twitch in her mouth and so she did what she knew how to do best since they started learning about their likes and dislikes; she took her hand and fondled his balls, her other wrapped around his body and scratched his back as she moaned around the cock that was deeply buried in her mouth.

“Fuck, Kagome--I’m gonna--” he whimpered needily and desperately. His little ears were pressed so hard to his head and his eyes were squeezed shut.

She hummed her response knowing that he loved the sensations. He loved that she would drink him up without hesitation. But why wouldn't she? She’d do anything for him. If that meant swallowing his cum, she would. It wasn’t bad either. She liked how he tasted. As dumb as it sounded, it tasted like sex. And it was hot. Especially when he would throw her down after and lavish her body in return.

He came after another bob of her head while her teeth lightly grazed him on the way back down. She remained there, using only her tongue and hand to continue to lave and rub him to keep his erection going. Part of him being far from average; he could go multiple rounds without rest.

“Good?” she finally asked as she withdrew her mouth, smirking up at him.

“Dirty trick, wench,” he growled as he hoisted her up by her shoulders.

“Mmmmm, that’s why Sango and Miroku weren’t hung over. Drinking your partner helps hangovers,” she teased, lying through her teeth. Or maybe it was true. She didn’t really know for sure. But it could be slightly true?

“Is that right?” He caught the joke and wanted to play in return.

“Probably why I wanted you last night,” she waved her arm towards her pants.

“Keh… You definitely wanted it.”

“Why didn’t you--”

“We’ll talk after I take care of you,” he smirked, pinning her to the wall and dropping to his own knees. He hoisted up her leg over his shoulder and dug in. Literally.

She had heard other girls complain about when guys would go down on them. How it wasn’t… good? How they had no idea what they were doing. Their tongues never hit the correct spot, but that was so far from the truth for Inuyasha. In fact, he knew exactly where his tongue should be but the jerk loved teasing her. Making sure he swept every part of her folds. Licking up and down her core like he was taking a leisurely stroll down memory lane as her breath hitched, her legs trembled, her coil tightened in her belly.

While she got off on the vulnerability he showed her and only her, he got off from her pleading to him to continue, demanding he finish exactly what he started. Asshole. He loved to ravish her. Make her keen, cry, wail. He also loved that he made her swear. Something so unlike her--but the way he would bring her to the brink of finishing to only backtrack made her go mad with want.

The number of orgasms he’d given her definitely outweighed all of ones she gave to him. He never once left her hanging--usually he made sure she had released twice before even thinking of letting himself go. But, that also meant he wound her so tightly once she did come, she would continually go on and on and on and onnnnnnnn.

He would purposely stimulate her to the point she would scream and wantonly cry out for him. He loved to hear his name on her tongue. Whatta jerk. A hot, God-like jerk.

His tongue circled and laved throughout her folds while his fingers poked and prodded her opening. Shit. She was already burning and he just started. Her head hit the wall of the hut as she desperately tried to control her treacherous hips that moved in time of his crafty tongue.

“Gods--”

“Ah ah--what is my name, Ka-Go-Me?” He reprimanded, nipping her bud. Fuck.

“Inuyashaaaaa,” she cried out begging for him to end her misery of where she stayed in limbo of burning in a freaking inferno versus dipping into the cool pond for a bath.

She was sweating, aching, burning, damnit--she could feel her walls twitching, begging for him to actually enter her. She wanted that cock too. Oh, did she want it inside of her.

For as large as it was--for as big and tall as he was in comparison to how short and small she was, he fit perfectly. They were made for each other.

That was something he proclaimed the first night she had returned: that he was born for her and she was born for him. The fact he felt that strongly towards her, even though she hadn’t had any doubts about returning, put her racing mind to rest.

During their first night, she had grown self-conscious slightly. She began to wonder if they were moving too fast, what if she was still just an image of what Kikyo once was--but those words put anything else she had thought in regards to her being a replacement to bed.

She was born for him. Not Kikyo. While he had loved Kikyo, there had been no trust between them; that was all that was between her and Inuyasha. Between the fights with Monumaru, Tsubaki, Naraku--they had each other.

“Pleaseeeeee,” she wailed, gripping his silver hair between her fingers, bringing his head to where she needed him most. His lips wrapped around her clit, sucking hard while his fingers teased her fluttering walls.

“Only because you asked nicely,” the jerk smirked before finishing her off. The. Jerk. Smirked. God, she hated him sometimes. It just wasn’t fair.

When his mouth wrapped around her nub, and his fingers danced their sinful dance right at the opening to her pussy, she screamed. Unabashedly. She slightly hoped the villagers heard her call out his name so that there would be no more of this nonsense of who she should marry. It was always Inuyasha. It would always be Inuyasha.

After he had sufficiently licked up her overflowing juices, he removed her leg from his shoulder and she sank down hard. Her legs were pure jello.

He held her close to his chest and she relished the purr (rumble, it was a rumble he told her) he admonished to her.

“Gods,” she exhaled, nuzzling into his chest.

“You keep saying that,” he chuckled.

“Because it was that good.”

“Ready for another round?”

“God please, but this time--” she didn’t have time to finish as he ripped off her haori tossing it with her hakama-- wait why didn’t she have a bra on?!-and flipped her around to place her on her hands and knees which made her laugh with mirth.

“Yessss,” she sighed as he entered her dripping wet sex hard and fast.

He wound his hand in her hair, not too tight though to hurt her, but more of leverage for him, but kept a hand on her hips and he thrusted repeatedly into her at his demonic inhuman speed. Oh, she was already on her way to orgasm number two of the day.

“Yassssh,” she whimpered.

“Come for me, Kagome,” he ordered harshly through his own gritted teeth. She realized he was still wound up pretty tightly from whatever happened last night. Even taking her in this position was some type of instinctual response to needing to prove something to her--or to himself.

But who was she not to listen to what he said? Well that was a lie; they used to fight about that all time but in the privacy of her--their own hut, he was in charge most nights. And she didn’t give a shit.

She felt herself clamp down uncontrollably around him as she called out her pleasure to him.

“Kagome,” he said softly, letting her ride out her release on his still deeply inserted cock. He nuzzled her neck and kissed from behind her ear to her shoulder until he bit on the mark he gave her after their first time on the forest floor just above her shoulder blade.

He had said it would be well hidden if it was there--it also was the spot he said called to him the most. Something about inuyoukai traditions.

She didn’t argue. It just meant she was his. Permanently. Well, at least in front of their friends. The villagers were still another story.

He pulled her hair a little until she was perched on his lap, her ass slamming down on his sweat glistened thighs, her full breasts bouncing up and down with every downward motion she took to take him further inside of him, and every upward thrust he returned for her to swallow him fully.

“Inuyasha,” she bellowed as his hand slid from her hip to her clit and began to rub circles. Bastard. She was wound so tight she thought she might die. There’d never be any form of relief as he continued to slam into her and vice versa.

His other hand released her hair to grab her breast to flick, pinch, and twist at her nipples. Without that hand, she would have likely ended up face first into the ground. She felt like she was having an out of body experience. She was too excited, too aflamed, too stimulated. Damn him.

“I’m close ‘Gome,” he finally gritted against her shoulder. She shuddered and keened as she rotated her hips seductively trying to coax him to let go. Show her his vulnerability. Release into her. Give her all of him without reservation or hesitation.

“Come on Inu--ahhhh-yasha,” she said brokenly, bringing one hand behind her to grasp his head to keep him by her mark, and the other to replace his hand that was teasing her nub.

He took the cue and replaced his hand on her hip as she took over stimulating herself, still holding him in place by some force or grace of God so that he could watch what he had turned her into.

Some sex-crazed woman. Correction, a woman who craved sex from him and only him. No man would ever be able to take his place. None. It could only ever be him.

She finally felt him tense and groan out a long exaggerated growl as she wailed her next release as he howled his. It was like they both had levitated off the ground as his mouth took hold of her shoulder and bit down hard.

Stars. She literally saw stars.

Coming down from their high, she turned her head to gaze upon his satisfied tired face. She smiled an exhausted smile to him and kissed him passionately.

They exchanged caresses and heated but calming kisses until he finally lifted her from his lap fully.

“Calm now?”

“Yea… sorry. My inner demon has been going crazy since last night.”

“So, what happened after I sat you in front of the village men?”

“After they started joking around like jackasses, you dumped sake on them and yelled at them for insulting your mate.”

“Oh Gods… I’m so sorry.”

“Ah, nah, it gets better.”

“I’m sure that’s a lie.”

“Ohhhhhh… but it does. Then after you said it, you realized what you said and made it a point to try and disprove it for the rest of the night by talking to other men. Accepting their efforts and invitations to court you. I was literally losing my shit. But unfortunately, I see now, that it is actually not your fault. It’s mine.”

“Come again?” He was admitting he was wrong? Him? Inuyasha? Wrong???

She actually felt his forehead, “Are you sick??”

“Cut the shit, Kagome. It is. I made it so… impossible for you to even express that we were together. And then when you finally told everyone, the way they reacted…”

“Was it bad??”

“No. They actually seemed unsurprised. Almost happy until you started your shit trying to apologize to me and acting like it wasn’t true. It was unrequited or whatever. Then they only seemed to get a lot of jollies out of it not because you were actually back on the market, but because they could tease me.”

“Please tell me I didn’t do anything else that was that bad or stupid.”

“Nah; After the fourth guy to approach you I finally flung you over my back and brought you back home. One dude was brazen enough to try and come in here at night. He wasn’t expecting to find me.”

“Oh Gods…”

“Yea… remind me to kick Sasuke’s ass later. Jackass.”

“Did he… did he see anything?”

“Aside from you on top of me, begging to have sex? No,” he said nonchalantly. “But don’t worry, I’m gonna gouge his eyes out later. Or burn them. Whatever way I think will make him forget he saw you like that, I’ll likely do.”

“Inuyasha--as long as he didn’t see us actually do anything it’s fine.”

“Making out with you is fine??”

“Oh yea, that’s nothing,” she soothed.

“Kagome--”

“I know things are different here--but trust me when I say that’s not as bad as I thought it would be.”

“Guess you’re right, he coulda walked in while you were grinding your fucking lucious hips and ass against me.”

She blushed scarlet, “I did what?!?!”

“Oh yea, I nearly came in my pants. Especially when you did,” he smirked down at her.

“Oh Gods… is that why I wasn’t wearing pants or underwear??”

“Yea--you were all upset they were wet; you were uncomfortable and didn’t give a fuck since it was just me. I believe you said and I quote, ‘Nothing you haven’t seen or touched before’.”

“Ughhhhh. I’m so sorry, Inuyasha. I didn’t mean--”

“Hey. It’s fine. As long as we are--clear from now on about where we are.”

“Uhm… so where are we then? Just so I know.”

“Considering you went and blabbed to the whole village and I’m sure Sasuke told everyone who didn’t believe it--pretty sure our cover is blown.”

“O-oh,” she said disparagingly.

“What? Is that… not what you wanted?” he asked with hurt laced in his voice. His eyes dropped and his eyes filled with sadness.

“Inuyasha--I told you from the beginning it’s you. It’s always been you. I want you as a mate--as a husband. You wanted to hold off but I made you mate with me--”

“You made me, huh?”

“Moving alongggggg,” she flushed at the reminder that they were both pretty equally hungry for their bodies a couple weeks ago. “I told you I was ready to take the next steps when you were ready to.”

“So… if I were to take a stroll to the headman’s today and tell him I want to be wed to you--you’d honestly be okay with that? Married to a half-breed?”

“Of course. You’re my half-demon. You’re my Inuyasha. No sake needed.”

He smiled down at her and dipped his head to kiss her again. She wrapped her arms around his neck and held him close. While the sake clearly messed up their plans, she was thankful she had partaken in the forbidden nectar. Because without it, Inuyasha wouldn’t have been able to glimpse the acceptance the villagers had for their would-be union.

Later that afternoon after breakfast, they walked to headman’s together and asked to be wed with his permission. He happily gave them their blessing with one word, “Finally.”

#inuyasha fanfiction #inuyasha post canon #inuyasha x kagome #inukag #inu x kag #smut smut smut #shameless smut #consenual sex

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eds-trashmouth · 5 years

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Hi. I’m a fucking nerd. So here’s some dungeons and dragons head canons.

I personally fucking love dnd. And I’ve been thinking about this for so long. And I could make a fic but I don’t think anyone else cares about dnd so. Just head canons lmao.

- Bill is the dungeon master of course. The losers let him test out his new story ideas by playing through them.

-They’re not all fantasy medieval based but those are the groups favorites.

-They love sitting down with Bill and cranking out storylines for the rest of the group to learn gradually (throughout the game)

-Everyone talks out of game about all the interesting things they have hidden in their backstories. Richie is the impatient bitch he is and tries worming answers out of everyone but no one says anything.

-They all have their go to race and class. After playing for years, they’ve really grown into their characters.

-Ben plays a Dwarf Paladin. Richie jokingly mentioned a dwarf while they were all talking about it once but even tho he knew Richie was picking at his weight. Ben fell in love with the idea.

-He always speaks in character, a deeper kinda southern voice, and he’s on a quest to find his brother in arms. A dwarf who was sent northward in search of an artifact held by the high elf.

-He plays lawful good, always trying to do the right thing and he gets in fights with Richie’s chaotic character over decisions all the time.

-Beverly plays a Half-elven monk. She wanted something feminine, the elf, and something badass, like a monk. She’s a heavy hitter in battle and a smooth talker in sticky situations.

-She 100% flirts with every hot girl NPC they come across. Often getting rewarded extra for her sweet talking.

-She’s trained in many martial art styles. Her main quest is to find the people responsible for her families assassination. You see they were known in the high counsel for their knowledge and wisdom. (Basically they were important people and someone ordered an assassination on them)

-She was only a baby when they were murdered and she doesn’t remember much about them. Other than what she is told so it’s a very difficult mission.

-Richie is 100% a fucking bard. This was the easiest for me to decide. He’s probably a human. Or a Dragonborn bc their cool.

-He flirts with literally everything. He tries to seduce the monsters their fighting and tries to sleep with every NPC they come across. Make, female, non-binary. He doesn’t care. He’s tryna fuck it.

-He’s not a heavy damage dealer but he’s irreplaceable in the group regardless. He always inspires the group, bullies the enemy (if he failed at seducing them of course), and even heals if they need him too.

-Richie hasn’t decided his main objective yet. Bill has tried to help him many times but he just has too many incoherent ideas. He definitely wants to become the best bard in the lands.

-Eddie plays a gnome Cleric. He loves helping and healing everyone when they’re battling and he even has some kickass damaging spells as well.

-He has a spiritual weapon (a very good cleric spell) shaped like a giant inhaler. It was Richie’s idea and he always smiles when Eddie summons it but he never mentions it. He also has spirit guardians (another great cleric spell) in the shapes of red crosses (like the medical sign yk), stethoscopes, and those knee reflex hammers.

-It wouldn’t be the losers without Eddie and Richie bickering. They’re constantly arguing with each other over Richie’s actions but also constantly flirting. Richie thinks they’re endgame for sure. Eddie is undecided.

-Stan plays an elven rogue/ranger. He fights like a rogue but he can track and understand nature like a ranger. He uses daggers and sneak attacks to fuck shit up.

-He’s stealthy as fuck and can track anything in minutes. (Depending on the rolls of course) His love for birds really helped him decide to be more on the ranger side. But he didn’t want a bow. He wanted to be in their face then be able to get out.

-His character is quiet most the time. Really playing on the rogue class. But he’ll always have a comeback for anything Richie says. He definitely has the best one liners in the group. Even if Richie disagrees.

-Stan is the best at keeping quiet about his character. He doesn’t want anyone else knowing what he’s really after. The heiress to the throne of his people in the North. A half elf whose been missing for years.

-Mike is a Druid. An Aasimar Druid. He loves talking to animals and plants. He is constantly telling the trees around them that they are only passing through. The trees don’t respond but the party sure gets a kick out of it every time.

-His character is female, mostly so Bev wasn’t the only female. He even does a slight feminine voice when in character. Which always gets a laugh. There’s just something about hearing the deepest voice try to do a high pitched female voice that just insights laughter every time.

-Mike’s favorite wild shape (druids can turn into beasts) is a Giant Eagle bc they’re insanely smart and can fly. Also bc Stan likes birds. But he doesn’t mention that. He even asks Stan’s opinion on which animal would be best for the situation.

-Mike thinks Stan and him are endgame as well. But he’s so subtly flirting that Stan has no idea. But even if he has to play the slow game. He wants that elven ass.

#reddie #stanlon #dnd headcanons #kat writes #the losers club #richie tozier #eddie kaspbrak #beverly marsh #ben hanscom #bill denbrough #mike hanlon #stan uris #ignore me #im sorry #no one cares lmao

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darklingichor · 4 years

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Fangirl by Rainbow Rowell Ramble Fest Part 5. *Spoilers*

Day 5: finished it. Okay, lots of things. Rowell's writing is absolutely addictive, I would have finished it faster if it weren't for my job and bills and stuff. Stupid responsiblites keeping me from reading.

I think I'll take each plot thread and follow it to the end.

With Levi, I sort of expected him to be Reagan’s brother, possibly twin (just by the way she reacted to the identical twin thing). Anyway, what college class allows you to read and test on The Outsiders? Can I borrow anyone’s time machine and go take it? I literally (and I actually mean literally) read that book twenty times in a row when I was fifteen. I wrung every bit of context, subtext, and not-even-in-the-text out of it. I felt like I knew Johnny and Ponyboy better than I knew some of my own family members. My best friend and I also took turns reading it out loud to each other (we did this with a lot of books, actually). I could have taken that test in about five minutes and would have been the easiest A I ever got!

Anyway, can I just say that I love the fact that Cath sees audio books as reading? Some people don’t and it annoys me to no end.

So I do like the Cath/Levi pairing, but what is it about romance in fiction? One half of the pairing doesn’t answer texts so the other half makes out with someone else? Does this happen in real life? I’m aro ace, this is completely foreign to me. I mean, I understand the concept of demiromantic and demisexual. Someone you feel connected with makes you want to do the romance or physical thing with them. But then you wouldn’t just kiss someone else because you didn’t hear from the special someone for a couple of hours, right? How does that connection happen in the brain? Not judging just wondering about something that makes no sense to me, personally.

It was sort of interesting how the relationship progressed. I get why she was so reluctant to really go there. Cath is the embodiment of fool me once, you will not get a twice.

I like that Levi really is a nice guy. Not a guy who plays nice and then expects something because of it. He legitimately felt horrible for the kiss with the other girl.

Also often, in the stuff I watched growing up, the love interest had to "look past" the geeky stuff that the main character liked. It is cool that Levi likes Cath for everything that she is, including the stuff that Wren tries to downplay. Same goes for Cath liking Levi. Niether one of them change to make themselves "better" for the other. That seems more real to me.

I like the slight struggle they had with Reagan being Levi's ex and how they all moved passed it. The only thing I can't figure out of I like is how once the relationship solidified, Cath's anxiety seems to have, if not disappeared, then greatly reduced.

I can't figure out if that's because she had more in the way of support in the form of Wren, Levi, and Reagan, more confidence because of the reactions she got to both forms of her writting, less stress because her dad had more support from her grandmother, and all of the other things that came together for her... Or the "Got boy now, what is mental illness?" Trope.

I would say it's the former because it would make sense, but we spend so much time in Cath's head and see her struggle and overcome, in the little daily battles that are always there even with changes made in the form of healthy coping mechinisms, medication or counseling. And suddenly it just drops away... I don't know, that bugged me.

Speaking of struggles

Arthur’s episode was handled really well, and I’m completely on Cath’s side. Family comes first. I don’t care if they are uncouncious, I wouldn’t be able to consentrate on a final if a close family member were in the hospital and I wasn’t there.

The part of my brain ruled by the anxiety goblin completely agrees with Cath wanting to leave the school. The part of me that is closer related to the turtle than it should be. “This is scary, uncomfortable, painful, ect. Time to hide.”

The more reasonable part sort of agrees with her when she said she didn’t choose the school, Wren did. Why stay at a school that you didn’t want to attend in the first place? I also understand the logic behind wanting to stay home to take care of her dad. Is ot the eighteen year old kid's job to take care of the parent? Not really, but what do you do when someone you love needs help?

The more rational part also says: You have a scholarship? Stay put, kid, loans blow!

During this whole thing? Wren is still a dick. The You and dad are crazy because you let yourselves be crazy argument...

"Got a broken leg? Walk it of wussy!"

Now, is that to say that Cath's way of letting her anxiety cope with her rather than the other way around is right?

No.

But it's a lot more complicated than "Just don't let it bother you." Bitch, if she could do that she wouldn't have anxiety now would she?

I don't know a lot about bipolar but I know enough to say with confidence, that just willing the chemicals in your brain to behave is not going to cut it.

So Wren's alcohol poisoning. Can I say that I loved how it was handled? The writing got around every tired thing that can happen coming out 0f a plot element like that.

Wren and Cath did reconcile, but Cath didn't cut her a lot of slack and was matter of fact about how stupid Wren's behavior had been. Her dad didn't do the whole "I'm just glad you're okay" thing, he laid down the law. One of my favorite lines from Arthur was when he told Wren that she had to go to AA meetings.

"I'm not an alcoholic."

"Good. It's not contagious. You're going to meetings.”

I honestly wouldn't mind a story from Wren's perective over the course of this year. It would be interesting to see her partying, her relationship with her boyfriend and her thought process while she let some of her personality blaze through while hiding others.

After she and Cath make up it becomes clear that she thought that she couldn't go to parties, make new friends, have new experiences and be close with her sister and still openly love nerdy things.

Professor Piper, writing, Laura, and Simon Snow.

I get the feeling that Professor Piper is suppose to be subverting the Mary Sue stereotype. When Cath first starts the class she is in awe of this teacher. Piper is wise, talented and compassionate. She's perfect. So when she first talks down fan ficton, I thought, well if the story were to follow the Mary Sue, Cath would "realize" her folly and abandon Carry On, Simon. I knew that wasn't going to happen.

The more she bad mouths fan fiction, the more she just... Acts like nothing touches her, I thought: She's the Mary Sue... But she's almost the villain (and almost is important here because she doesn't continue down that path). I mean, she can do whatever she wants with her students' grades? What university is this? Professors have to get their grades submitted by a deadline. She couldn't hold Cath's grade just cause she felt like it. She'd have to submit an incomplete and I'm pretty sure that it would have to be made up long before it actually was.

She calls fan fic "Stillborn" as if the only ultimate reason to write is to make a living off of it, that was bitchy. She likely would have been surprised that a good number of her students probably dabble in it, because I haven't met many people who write (post Harry Potter) who didn't read some fanfic, if not write it, and that's just one fandom Yes, it is a wonderful thing to make your living doing something you love, However, Cath is also right, you can write like some people knit or scrapbook. You can do something you love simply for the love of it.

Further more and most importantly, no writting is "stillborn" you put effort into it, it lives, if only for you.

Now, Cath is trying to not write her final project because she's scared, she's afraid that she doesn't have it in her to do with her own characters what she does so well with Baz and Simon. That doean't mean her reasoning isn't sound, it's just not sound for her.

Nick... I don't have a lot to say about Nick. I knew he was going to end up being a tool, and he was.

Same goes for the Laura thing. I agree with Cath, you don't get to walk out of being a parent and walk back in to be a fair weather friend.

Simon Snow. As a framing device first the "original" books and then Carry On, Simon was very effective. I had a hard time listening to many of them though because of the narration. Don't know why they had the narrator switch when we were in Cath's story.

Having read Carry On before Fangirl, it was interesting to see the differences between the stories. And it simaltiously gave and took away hope for the Anyway the Wind Blows.

That fantastic part where Wren tells Cath that she can't kill off Baz, that she'd always said that Baz deserved a happy ending because of everything canon and all the fics they'd written and read, had put him through.

I thought: That bodes well for Baz in the next one.

But Wren also says that Cath has to give him a happy ending because Gemma T. Leslie never will.

Then I thought: Well shit, that doesn't, does it?

And all of this means nothing, really. Carry On and Wayward Son exist outside both this book and the fictional series...

Gah! This universe is like a Russian nesting doll crossed with a rublix cube!

The little bits we get of Cath's final project were lovely, and yes, painful. Writing something personal is painful but, but cathartic a lot of the time.

I had a lot of emotions reading this book and while I like Carry On more, I think Fangirl is fantasic. Just from the two books I've read, Rainbow Rowell's speciality is to take expectations and expertly either defy them or bring them to fuition in a way that is more satisfying than what the reader might be expecting. This means I might break from my escapist reading trend a bit more often.

#book #books #fangirl #rainbow rowell #spoilers #eight #book blogging 2020

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uberrapidash · 4 years

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A vent.

I can’t stop thinking about death. Every time I do, I think about Ghirahim and how I can’t leave him. Then I immediately feel guilty for my first thought not being that it would be horrible to you if I disappeared. But then I think about how I’m not doing any good for Ghirahim or for you anyway, because I’m in such a poor state just from trying to keep up with the basics of life. I feel guilty for always being so negative. I’m upset with myself for not being more positive. Then I think that I shouldn’t have to force positivity. Like, life is legit scary and hopeless. I feel like I’m pretty objective. I know that I can’t remove subjectivity, but there is a certain amount of objectivity, I think.

It’s not like any thing necessarily bad happened today. It’s just lots of little tiny things. They build up. Every day.

First it was that they told me they have to follow what my doctor sent me for for physical therapy (”right shoulder pain”). I don’t know how exactly to describe why that was a certain kind of upsetting. It kinda gave me a lump in my throat like I was going to start crying. Maybe I feel like I’m not being listened to? I don’t know. There was a new exercise they had me do where I stand with my back against the wall and slowly raise and lower my arms above my head, sliding them up the wall. It wasn’t difficult, and I couldn’t feel any of the muscles that it was supposed to be targeting, but I felt like I was suffocating. I couldn’t do it. I barely got to 5 reps, and I couldn’t breathe. I told them this, of course. They don’t know why I would feel like I was suffocating from doing that exercise. They said to take a break and try again, and I did two more reps and had to stop. I asked again at the end of my appointment why something like that could make me feel like I couldn’t breathe, and they said they have no clue. They didn’t seem interested in trying to figure out why. They said that next time we can try to implement some accommodations to help me do it, like have me do it while lying down, and have me do it while leaning back at an incline. But, like, my concern is that that should not have made me feel like I was suffocating, and I want to know why that was happening, but they don’t seem interested in discovering what it is. Later this lady was asking me about how I manage my pain. She suggested hot showers and I said that I only bathe every so often because I don’t have the energy to do more. She said that I could just sit, without bathing, in hot water, or under a hot shower, and then I explained about my skin condition. I was embarrassed because I feel like there are too many things wrong with me and I worry that people think I’m just making stuff up or exaggerating because I actually just want to complain and am not looking for solutions. But the truth is that a lot of proposed solutions are not solutions for me. I felt like crying by the time I left. There wasn’t anything in particular that would make me need to cry. Everyone was really nice to me. Although I have been told multiple times recently that I am a “special case” because I describe these issues and these medical professionals don’t have a ready answer to explain why I’m like this.

So then the next thing from today is that I get home and I’m so tired that my day’s plans are already derailed. I have so much shit to do for school and I’m not getting everything done. But I kept a good attitude, and I did what I could with the time that I had. But I knew that this evening I was either not going to have any down time or I wasn’t going to get hardly anything done. And now that I am here in this evening, it’s that I am so tired, and so depressed, and so preoccupied with thinking that there is no light at the end of the tunnel so what is the point in trying, that I’m not getting anything done, and neither does it feel like “down time.”

I went to opera, and things were going pretty well, but I reached a point where I got so tired that it was like I just hit a wall. So the last hour or so was awful. I felt like I was just in the way. I couldn’t remember the stage directions from just a few minutes ago and did things at the wrong time when we ran it. I couldn’t catch on to the choreography, which I was supposed to have already known by today. I did try to find the video for today’s choreography, but it doesn’t appear to have been sent to me? Or I’ve just overlooked it many times. So I asked about it, was it sent? No one told me if they had accessed the video, no one chimed in to say that they also couldn’t find the video - I was just told by the stage manager that they were emailing it to me as we spoke. So that’s embarrassing. As this was a question I asked during question time so the whole class was paying attention. I asked it then because I thought it would be relevant to others. But apparently it was not relevant to others. The stage manager approached me later to say that I could just text her if something like that ever happens again. I felt like I shouldn’t have taken up that class time. I felt stupid. I was also frustrated because after I hit that point of exhaustion, my mind became so clunky and slow. And it’s embarrassing. How am I going to get through tech week(s) if I’m like this? How am I going to get through the rest of my classes?

How am I supposed to do more than one thing? All I’ve had energy for today is: 1) physical therapy, 2) cook/eat/clean-up, and 3) opera. I still have a shit load of other stuff that needs to be done. But I am so fucking tired.

Oh yeah, another thing to add onto the pile of shit. After looking at the paperwork stuff for me getting to get on my mom’s health insurance, I am pretty fucking hopeless about it. They are asking for a lot of documentation. They need proof of “the condition” from before I was 26. But this stuff started in high school and progressed slowly. I’ve been mistreated by doctors, I’ve had doctors not do anything about my complaints. I don’t have a label to apply to “the condition” because I was shrugged off by doctors when I was younger (but also my condition wasn’t as bad back then) and then because I haven’t had health insurance. I need health insurance in order to prove that I need health insurance. I feel so hopeless about all this shit.

One more thing: I embarrassed myself with that dead luna moth I found because I was walking back by the music building on my way to the tree that I wanted to leave it under, and I asked a group of people if they wanted to see, and one of them, like, snapped, said something like, “Not right now, sorry,” quickly followed up by something about how it’s just not a good time, they’re dealing with something. Should I have been able to tell that I shouldn’t have approached? What clues did I miss? No one looked upset. But maybe I shouldn’t have tried to share anyway, because it’s too weird. I’m the weird girl that moves dead birds and keeps cicada husks in her car and carries dead luna moths around and asks people if they want to see, because that’s how she thinks friends are made. Except she’s a nearly-30-year-old woman.

I think that that kinda goes along with how dumb I feel in opera because most of what we do is improv and I don’t know how to “be a person.” I literally have the instruction to improv DANCE for a solid several pages, just “have fun,” and I’m like “?????” Give me beat-by-beat instructions, give me choreography. I realized today that I think I have a difficult time with improv because I don’t make eye contact with people. My ease of getting through rehearsal today improved after I had that realization. I have many more choices if I’m looking to people’s faces. People interact with me more when I make eye contact, so I don’t have to do as much. It’s so uncomfortable.

I’ve been worried that I’m in the wrong field. I think I already made up my mind some time ago that I just want to at least get my undergraduate degree, then maybe I can work some unrelated job at a coffee shop or something. Or maybe I will want to go on for a master’s, as my original plan was. I won’t know until I get there.

This giant rant started because I can’t seem to deal with life right now. I thought about going to crisis counseling today. I am worried I should be in a hospital. But I’m not looking for that kind of help because if I do that then there’s absolutely no way that I could recover in this semester. And my whole financial everything depends on me being in school right now. And I’m not the only one dependent on it. You are, too.

I have so much to do. It’s nearly 8pm and I still need to finish setting up Anki for music history this week (my goal was to have that done yesterday), I was supposed to have practiced for an hour and a half at some point today, I have this big assignment due on Thursday but I haven’t even started and it will take a lot of time so I really need to be working on it now, I need to work on opera memorization, I need to write my IPA and translation into my Brahms and learn the piece ASAP, and a million other little things.

I thought life would become so much easier once I was back on Adderall. I’m sure it is helping. I bet everything would be much worse if I didn’t have the Adderall. But still, even with it, I can’t do this. This is isn’t working. I don’t have the energy to keep up with everything. Mail is still going unopened. My email has gone to shit, too. And I’m afraid I’m about to lose all my healthcare stuff that I’ve acquired recently and I don’t know what to do about that. I don’t know what to do if I can’t work on improving my health. I’m scared. I feel so hopeless. Part of me really, really wants to disappear. Part of me really doesn’t want that. But I can’t keep going on like this and I don’t know how to make it better. It’s not just my perspective that’s the issue. I need something to get better.

#personal #vent

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ssironstrange · 5 years

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buckle in, i have some Personal Shit to get off my chest and fling into the void. might as well before i’m Purged, right? lots of triggery stuff ahead.

so last week i got a job. it isn’t a spectacular job. the pay is shit and it’s extremely physically taxing. but it’s a job. i’ve been unemployed since july having put countless resumes out and done a handful of interviews with absolutely no luck. so we’re just happy i’m employed and going to have some income again.

on my very first day of orientation last week, my mom texts me asking me about christmas plans and i tell her i’m unsure what my schedule will look like while my brother is in town because i literally just started and don’t actually have any sort of schedule yet, obviously.

she proceeds to get pissed. starts calling me selfish for getting a job right before christmas. blames me for messing up plans because now she’s gonna have to work around my schedule. says i did this on purpose because i could have easily gotten a job like this at any time. i’m floored.

like, my mom is a grade A special class cunt, but she took it to new levels. i couldn’t even think of anything to say. i was so appalled and upset by the fact this woman couldn’t even say a simple “congrats” to her own daughter, knowing the troubling financial situation we’ve been in. eventually my s/o took my phone from me to text her himself because he was Done with her shit. i proceeded to have a mini-breakdown. i thought she had finally changed. like, i went without speaking to her at all for two years before because of bullshit like this she pulled on me in the past and told her if she wanted me in her life she needed to take a hard look at herself and change some shit. and she did. for a long while there she really did. she stopped drinking (she’s a raging alcoholic who will deny that until her dying breath) unless it was a special occasion and even then it was only like one glass. she started being nicer, friendlier, and a lot more grateful for the things we help her with. she stopped complaining and bitching about every possible thing. hell, she even started finding some social events to get out and go to. For a while she was actually kinda nice to be around for a change.

and then she did that and it made me realize nothing about her has actually changed. she can’t change. she has so many unchecked mental problems she refuses to see a doctor about. she’s in denial about 90% of them. she is sick, needs treatment, but refuses it at all. refuses to even acknowledge she’s sick. she’s extremely narcissistic. her selfishness knows no bounds. she honestly believes that giving $50 to someone in need while dropping $2k on herself(on shit she doesn’t need at ALL) is being generous. she has no concept of saving money. she has to spend it. she’s a hoarder and shopaholic. she’s paranoid of everyone and everything; everyone is out to get her, conspiring against her. any time her phone acts up she’s convinced someone is trying to hack her. a company accidentally overcharging her and she thinks someone within that company is personally trying to steal from her. she believes her doctors are trying to fuck with her when they’re literally just trying to obey the law. no matter what it is, its always about her. it doesn’t even fucking cross her mind even once what another person might be going through or dealing with or that accidents happen. she believes because a waitress working a double shift on thanksgiving didn’t bring her napkins in 5 seconds when she asked that she doesn’t deserve a tip. she feels personally attacked when i talk about her generation as a whole. she can’t ever be wrong. she believes because she’s older that she knows everything. she believes because she has had an encounter with something that it makes her an expert on it, or because she read 1 book or 1 unsourced article on the internet that she knows more. she believes, in her mind, that i am still 13 years old. honestly. she continuously pulls up weird shit from that time. thinks i still dress the same, still have the same preferences about everything no matter how many times i have told her “i haven’t like that since i was 12/13/whatever age.” hell she even talks to me like i’m a child half the time. She hasn’t worked a job since she was in her 30s and lies to live off the government, mooches from literally anyone she can, and gets oil royalties that she didn’t even do anything to invest in, she just inherited them. but then has the gall to bitch at me about jobs when i’ve been working since i was barely 15. she believes the world owes her. she believes that we kids owe her for being a mother and frequently tries to hold that over me as if that weren’t her fucking duty anyway when she decided to keep us. she is always angry and negative and prone to violence - especially while drunk. she has literally pointed a loaded, cocked gun at my chest, thrown glass dishes at me (which ended with glass shards in my hands and feet), dragged me by my hair, and has done ten times that in emotional abuse. she’s called the cops on my brother over an argument, and has thrown a computer monitor at me (one of those old CRT ones) because i said she was acting crazy. she would get so nasty with me my brother would have to step in and tell her to shut the fuck up. she didn’t even try to get me into counselling or therapy or even talk to me when she found out i was being sexually assaulted as a young child. all she did was remove me from the situation, which ultimately removed me from half of my family and didn’t explain why. she never told me is wasn’t my fault. she never talked to me about what sex actually was and how it’s supposed to be. she never told me about consent. she did nothing for me to cope with and process the years of physical and mental trauma i had endured, and i am still fucked up from it to this day because it defined my view of everything sexual. it created deep and strong neural pathways i’ll be lucky to ever be able to change. she went through my mail and read a letter to a long distance friend, finding out i was queer and genderfluid and outed me to the rest of the family, called me a disgrace and disgusting. she would go through chat logs and shame me about everything she could. she’s racist as fuck, still uses the N word, and has told me several times if i ever dated a black person she would disown me. she has always played favorites with my brother because he is the smart one, the one who graduated at 16 and got into university on full scholarship at 17, the one who has always been a social butterfly, extroverted with lots of friends, neurotypical by most standards, handsome and always had good taste in girls, successful in everything he does, and has a great career as an environmental engineer that pays well enough for him to take multiple overseas trips, pay off student loans(when he decided to switch majors and stay in college longer) and is just over all the perfect son (he and i have always gotten along fantastically. i love him immensely, but it’s no secret to either of us who she has always favored),and she’s an opioid addict - another thing she will deny until she’s dead. and thats just everything i can think of at the moment. theres more. theres always more.

so she texted me a couple days ago apologizing without actually apologizing. blaming her attitude on the fact her pain meds are being reduced (not once did she actually say sorry) and she’s been in a bad mood because of it. today she texted me, still without a real apology, just saying how she’s wondering how my job is going. but the truth is, i know she doesn’t give a fuck. she only wants to feel better about herself. she wants to believe she’s forgiven so she can have things her way again. she doesn’t actually give a shit about my feelings, about what she’s done to me, or about how this is the same cycle of bullshit we’ve been through countless times. she doesn’t care.

and yet, i still find myself feeling guilty to cut her out like the tumor she is. despite everything she has done to me. i can’t help it and i wish i could. she has manipulated me so much throughout my life that i have an almost pavlovian response to feel like its my fault, that i’m the failure she’s always said i am, that i’m the one letting her down. i know i’m not. i know that isn’t the truth but it’s still there and i hate it. but still, i’m trying my best to just fucking ignore her. she doesn’t get to have the satisfaction of thinking all is well and forgiven. i’ve been through this too many times and frankly i’m just so fucking tired of it.

#personal #trigger warning #about a lot of shit

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ladymoonveil · 6 years

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Saying that Billy Hargrove is a polarizing character is putting it mildly in this fandom. I’ve always hated that the Duffers wanted him to exist purely for the reason of having a “human villain”. Why does Billy need to fill that role when you already have an organization full of evil dudes experimenting on kids? If they wanted someone more specific, there’s always Neil Hargrove. He’s a piece of shit who beats his son on the regular, and actively destroyed Billy’s relationship with Max by turning her into his walking, talking punishment. He’s an abuser who turned the abused into another abuser, and if that’s not the peak of human villainy I don’t know what is.

It also really bothers me when people hate Billy because he “doesn’t deserve redemption” and “should die for what he did”. Apparently, shipping Harringrove means people want Steve to be in a violent relationship with a racist, which cannot be further from the truth. Literally 99% of Harringrove fics have Billy getting the help he needs, admitting his past mistakes, and becoming a better person in the progress.

Steve has been one of my favourites since season 1, back when most people still disliked him. I wouldn’t put him in a relationship with a one-dimensional asshole and make him suffer just for the sake of shipping. (Though this is the accusations that some people like to make.)

The reason I wanted to write this post about Billy Hargrove is because he reminded me of a boy I used to know when I was in the second grade. We were only classmates for about 2 months, since I moved to Canada right after, but his name is the only one that I remember from back then. (The following story is deeply personal, and please note this trigger warning for child abuse.)

This boy was what everyone would call a “problem student”; someone who couldn’t sit still in class and had terrible grades. He was always in trouble with the teacher for being too loud and noisy. When you live in an East Asian country like Taiwan where grades are super important, this is a big red flag and people generally wouldn’t want to be friends with this person. When I think about it now, I’m pretty sure he had ADHD. But this was back in 1999, and ADHD wasn’t exactly a widely understood mental disorder.

Despite this boy being a “problem child”, he wasn’t a bully. (My mom told me a story of a real bully from when she was young. He was also terrible at school, but he was a star player on the baseball team. He would walk up an aisle of the classroom and slap his classmates’ heads as he walked by. My mom got smacked almost every day, but he got away with it because he was athletic. Unfortunately for the boy in my class, he wasn’t outstanding in sports either.)

I remember distinctly that he was nice and excited whenever I talked with him. He certainly didn’t go around hitting people, or else I wouldn’t have given him the time of day. We didn’t hang out together at recess, but he would lend me his Tamagotchi for an entire week before asking for it back. My mom told me that whenever she brought me to school, he would stop to speak with her, and he was always very polite. I didn’t think much of our interactions at the time, as he was just another classmate to me.

One day, he showed up at school with literally half his face covered in black and blue. You know the type of bruises people get if they’re slapped or punched? This wasn’t like that. This was like someone took black paint and slopped it on one side of his face. It was that opaque.

My mom and I were shocked when we saw him. She went to ask him what happened, and he told her that his father hit him with a wet towel because he stole some money. She asked him how much he stole, and it turns out he stole five dollars because he wanted to buy erasers. My mom told him that he shouldn’t steal; that he should ask his dad next time and tell him he wants to buy school supplies. The boy said he did ask, but his dad wouldn’t lend him the money which is why he stole it instead.

I remember very clearly that he didn’t cry, or act like he was in any pain. In fact, he was so nonchalant about it that one of the thoughts that went through my 7-year-old brain was, “Oh, maybe it’s not as bad as it looks?”

I’m old enough now to understand his dad probably beat him so much that he wasn’t even phased by it anymore. You don’t get that kind of bruising from being hit once with a wet towel. (Hell, you don’t get that type of bruising from being hit five times with a wet towel. It’s amazing that he didn’t go deaf from the abuse.) It really bothers me that I wasn’t more bothered about it back then, but the image of his bruised face has stayed with me for eighteen years.

My mom was so angry when she heard what happened to him. She went to tell the teacher, who was also a counselling advisor for the school. My mom’s first thought was that she is more qualified to speak with students, and maybe she will be able to do something about it. But when my mom told her what happened, my teacher said, “His grandparents told me he’s always causing trouble at home, and that he never learns no matter how many times they teach him.”

What she really meant was that his family all thought it was apt punishment and that he deserved it for his behaviour. She wasn’t going to do anything about the abuse. (Now, I don’t know if my teacher had already tried to help him and wasn’t able to, but my mom told me she came out of that conversation feeling very disappointed and upset at the outcome. She never forgot his name either.)

Days passed and his bruises faded. One day, the boy left in the middle of the class, and someone asked where he went. The teacher said his mom came to visit him, so she let him take the day off to spend with her. I didn’t realize his parents were divorced until this moment. At the end of the school day, I was standing outside the classroom. I saw him with a woman I had never seen before, and he was holding onto her and sobbing. He didn’t want his mom to go.

I remember thinking to myself, “Why doesn’t he just stay with his mom? He really seems to like her more.” (My mom has told me since that the system in Taiwan favours the father when it comes to child custody, similar to how the system in Canada favours the mother. It could also be a case that she wasn’t able to support him financially, but I don’t know for sure. All I know is that I’ve never seen him cry until that moment. He didn’t even shed a tear at school after his dad had beaten him black and blue.)

Fast forward a month or so and I was going to leave; I was immigrating to Canada with my family. When I was saying goodbye to all my friends, he gave me a farewell present. It was this little book that had a bit of water damage. I could tell it was something of his, and that he has spent time reading it. I’ve gone through the book a few times, and from what I remember I enjoyed reading the short mystery stories and riddles in it. When I told him I was leaving, he cried harder than most of the friends that I actually hung out with.

Over the last 18 years, I’ve thought about him from time to time. But it wasn’t until two days ago that I really pondered why I haven’t forgotten his name, and why it seems like most of the things I remember from those two months of second grade in Taiwan involved that boy.

At the time, I was in the shower thinking about how I should write Billy’s character, since I wanted to tackle his childhood days in my story. One thing led to another and suddenly, I was thinking about the book that my classmate had given me. To my absolute dismay, I couldn’t remember where I put it.

It was around 2:00 AM, and I had work the next day but I found myself going through my desk drawers and my bookshelves because I really needed to find this book. I tried to remember where last saw it, and I had this creeping sense of dread that maybe I left it back in Taiwan, which means I may never see it again. This made me think about why I didn’t bring it with me when I moved, and if I did, why can’t I remember where I put it?

The answer? It just didn’t matter that much to me.

For the first time in my life, I sat down and really processed my experience with this boy that I barely knew. It broke my fucking heart, and I’m still highly emotional about it even as I type this out. I realized that this boy probably didn’t have things. His dad beat him for stealing five dollars to buy erasers and yet he lent me his toy for a week. He couldn’t go and buy the most basic of school supplies but he gave me his book. And I don’t even remember where I left it.

Unlike some people in my class, I was friendly to him. But even though we talked, I don’t remember thinking of him as a friend. I was the vice class president and he was someone who was always getting in trouble, and that put an invisible barrier between us. (You don’t hang out with the problem child, the stigma was always there. Even though I knew in my heart that he wasn’t a bad kid.) Thinking about the way he cried when I said goodbye, I realized that to him, I was his friend.

I’ve honestly been bawling my eyes out over the past few days at this revelation. I wish I had talked to him more. I wish that I was genuinely his friend. I wish that I hung out with him at school because he was abused at home and I can’t recall if he had any friends of his own.

I wish I knew what I know now so I could try to help him.

It hits me the hardest when I think about where he might be now. Did he manage to get away from his dad and his grandparents, who stood by and enabled the abuse? Did he grow up to be a delinquent or a gangster and follow in his dad’s violent footsteps? Did he get to stay with his mom when he was older? Is he still the kind boy who shared what little he had with a girl that only spoke to him sometimes?

I tried to look him up on Facebook, but I can’t recall his face enough to recognize him, even if I did find the right person. (There are multiple people with the same name, and none of their profiles listed the elementary school I went to. I’m not really surprised, e-mails barely existed back then, let alone Facebook.) I’m not sure what I would say to him, or if he even remembers me. How should I react, if he had in fact turned into a horrible person? But regardless, I want to thank him for the book, and for thinking of me as his friend.

Sometimes my thoughts would go very dark and I’d wonder if maybe he had died from one of his dad’s beatings. I try not to think about that, I want him to be alive and happy. I hope he’s living a normal life now, surrounded by people who care about him.

I guess I realized that this boy I knew could have easily grown up to be a Billy Hargrove, and it’s a fucking travesty because he was stuck in a situation where nobody helped him. I think back to the scene where Billy’s dad slapped him around, while his stepmom stood by and watched. Let’s just say I view his character in a different light after my own emotional journey. We don’t know what he’s been through growing up; who he was before his dad twisted him into the volatile teen that he is today. This is why I will never agree with people who don’t think he deserves a chance at redemption.

I told my best friend about this yesterday, and she cried with me. I thought that maybe her tears were for his plight, but then she told me something that floored me. She said that I shouldn’t beat myself up over this because I was seven years old, and seven-year-olds don’t think about things the way a twenty-six-year-old would. She told me that she believed I was a kind friend to him even if I felt like I wasn’t genuine, because that’s who I was for her when we were young.

I didn’t understand at first, and then she told me that she had really bad anger issues before we became friends. She bounced from classmate to classmate, and she felt terrible because she wasn’t really close to anyone. It made her isolated and angry, to the point that she punched a hole in her wall. She said that after she met me in the sixth grade, she told herself that she has to get her anger under control, because she felt like she’ll scare me away, and she wanted me to be her friend. I told her I never felt that from her, and she cried harder because that meant she succeeded. Its profound how much you can mean to someone without even realizing it, and this is something that I don’t think I would have learned if not for the character of Billy Hargrove.

When I ship Harringrove, I’m not doing it to “fetishize gay men” or to “put Steve in an unhealthy relationship for the sake of having two attractive white guys getting it on”, as some people like to assume. I see in Steve someone who is dealing with his own issues back at home, and is genuinely a nice guy who cares and likes to help people. I see him as someone who can reach out to Billy and support him when he has nobody else on his side. The Steve in my mind would be the person to give Billy the motivation to change for the better.

It won’t be easy for Steve, but helping Billy isn’t a burden that I place on this character. It’s not some trial that I put him through for the drama of this ship. I now know firsthand the regret you feel when you leave someone you could have helped behind, and the absolute relief when you do end up making a difference for a person you’ve grown to care about. I love Steve, and he’s not going to feel this regret because he’ll do better than I did in my stories. And it’s not just a one-way street, because after Billy gets the help he needs, he’s going to turn right back around and support Steve through his traumas as well. Billy’s strong in a different way, and they could be so good for each other.

This is the potential that Harringrove shippers see in their relationship. Before you go around judging or sending hateful messages, actually stop to take a look at why people like these two characters together. You may be surprised by what you find.

#harringrove #thanks for coming to my ted talk #billy hargrove #steve harrington #testing to see if the tags work this time #my writing

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glasskaleidoscopes · 5 years

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Chapter 2 - Wednesday, August 5th, 2009

Carolyn was the first to walk into Central View High School on the first day of their freshman year. School started at 7:30 a.m., but her bus picked her up around 6:30 a.m., so she was at school almost a half hour early. This was a good thing, because she had never stepped into this giant school, and had no clue how to get to her homeroom class. She idled in the school atrium, which had two staircases leading up to the second floor. There were already so many people in the school, mostly hustling in and out of the cafeteria, which was serving breakfast. Two police officers walked past Carolyn, casually chatting while watching for any suspicious activity. This naturally scared the shit out of Carolyn; in middle school, there was one police officer who would keep tabs on the school, but you hardly ever saw her. Now she had been in this school for less than 5 minutes and already seen two. There were cliques of students gathering all around the atrium, hugging and chatting about how their summers had gone.

After what felt like forever, but was actually about 10 minutes, Carolyn spotted Sallie walking across the atrium. Carolyn tried to weave her way through the growing throngs of students as quickly as possible, so she could get to Sallie before she disappeared among the hoards.

“Sallie! Sallie!” Carolyn called, but of course Sallie couldn’t hear, there was way too much talking going on. Carolyn finally reached Sallie, just after squeezing through a couple who was clearly upset that she had broken up their cuddle session. Carolyn grabbed Sallie’s shoulder, and Sallie quickly turned around.

“Carolyn! What are you doing? Why aren’t you in the cafeteria?” Sallie asked the taller girl, looking confused.

“What do you mean? I’m not eating breakfast here. My dad tried to get me to eat a banana, but breakfast plus first day of high school would not be a good idea.” Carolyn explained quickly, slightly out of breath.

“All the freshmen have to meet in the cafeteria on their first day, remember? They told us at orientation a couple weeks ago! We all meet in the cafeteria, then they have upperclassmen wrangle each homeroom class and show us where it is. Which is good because I only know where the geometry classroom is; last year I spent the rest of the time scared of the seniors.” Sallie explained. Last year, Sallie was part of a small group of students who came to the high school for advanced math class, since the middle school started an hour and a half later than the high school.

“Oh that’s right. I had orientation back in June, so I literally don’t remember anything from it, except for the excessive chanting.” Carolyn hooked her arm into Sallie’s and they walked into the cafeteria. Their high school orientation was a day-long torture-fest. The soon-to-be high schoolers had to sit and listen to upperclassmen enthusiastically teach them their school song, along with several other obnoxious chants. Then the rest of the day was spent talking about ‘how different high school is from middle school’, and how ‘classwork gets serious here’. Carolyn rolled her eyes at the memory.

“I kind of liked the chants! It reminded me of softball, remember how fun that was? Rolling, rolling, rolling, the pitcher’s going bowling, so get that worm a helmet!” Sallie giggled, much to Carolyn’s dismay.

“Yeah that was fun, but we made that one pitcher cry with that chant. I felt so bad afterwards.” Carolyn shook her head. Carolyn and Sallie had played softball in middle school in eighth grade; they also played together on an intramural team over the summer. Neither girl was exceptionally athletic, but they had a ton of fun. They had tried to convince Vera to play with them, but Vera preferred to watch on the sidelines. Both girls caught a glimpse of Vera and tightened their grip on each other. Vera was sitting on the top of a cafeteria table, chatting to a couple people the girls didn’t recognize. The girls reached Vera, and they both hugged her from behind.

“Whoa, hey!” Vera stammered, surprised to feel two pairs of arms around her stomach, “We just saw each other two days ago, remember? You guys are hugging me like it’s been 6 months.” Vera was right, two nights ago the girls had a sleepover at Sallie’s house. They had discussed what they would wear on their first day and compared schedules. Each of them had a different homeroom class, but they all had lunch together, which was the most important class to have together. They had decided to all sign up for student counsel this semester, and they planned on taking a stage crew class next semester to have another activity for the three of them to do together.

“Oh, Carolyn and Sallie, this is Meghan and James. I met them during orientation a couple weeks ago.” Vera introduced her friends to the two strangers. Carolyn and Sallie both waved and smiled, but were a little irritated that they had invaded their group. The five teenagers spent the next couple minutes chatting about how nervous they were for their respective classes, along with what they had done over the summer. Soon enough, a few adults walked into the cafeteria, and a tall African American man shouted over the crowd, which quickly silenced the new high schoolers. The African American man introduced himself as Mr. Thompson, the principal of CVHS. He and a couple other administrators talked about a few things that had already been discussed over orientation, but this was a good reminder for people who had taken orientation early, like Carolyn. After the administrators were done, upperclassmen wearing bright yellow t-shirts started calling out the homeroom classes, and the freshmen reluctantly formed clumps around their respective upper classmen. The trio waved to each other with a slightly scared look before they parted to their respective homerooms.

Homeroom was pointless for most of the girls. Morning announcements were lengthy but boring, and the rest of homeroom was the teacher handing out different pamphlets and flyers for the various clubs and social activities at the school. Just a few short hours later, the girls found themselves together again in the cafeteria, with Sallie meeting up with Vera and Carolyn, who had just finished their Spanish class together. The girls had all brought their lunches from home, which allowed them to avoid the wait in the long lunch line. The girls found a round table that was empty and all sat down.

“Hey Sallie! How was band?” Carolyn asked.

“Terrifying. I knew band in middle school was super easy, but I had no idea how intense band would be now. It’s so scary, I’m one of just a few other freshmen in the top band. We sight read music today, and I almost cried because of how difficult it was.” Sallie explained worriedly. Sallie had started playing clarinet in 5th grade, and was easily the most talented student in her middle school band, but that was not very difficult to do. Now she found herself in the high school’s top band, surrounded by incredibly talented musicians. She knew she had a lot cut out for her.

“Oh but you’ve always worked so hard at the clarinet, you’ll get into the swing of things before you know it!” Vera patted Sallie on the shoulder. Sallie nodded and proceeded to eat her lunch. There was a slight pause in the conversation as each of the girls began eating. Then Carolyn chimed in, “so I saw Michael today in Algebra.” Michael was Carolyn’s long-standing crush, ever since before the girls even met. Michael was a tall guy with short blond hair, who was very muscular and very active on the wrestling team. He had been in a couple of the girls’ classes last year, and clearly had no interest in Carolyn, but that never stopped her.

“Did you talk to him?” Vera asked.

“Well, no. But I did catch him glancing at me twice during class!” Carolyn gushed. Sallie and Vera gave each other a knowing look. They had tried to explain to Carolyn that Michael wasn’t into her, but that had ended in Carolyn spending the next week locked in her room, audibly bawling day and night. They both realized that this was a major crush that wasn’t going away, and they weren’t sure exactly what to do. Carolyn could hold her own most of the time, but when it came to ‘love and romance’, she could be extremely fragile.

“Well you should try talking to him! You’ve known him for a couple years now, but you’re still not even really friends.” Vera commented, trying to encourage Carolyn to do anything, but instead Carolyn fell silent and became completely absorbed in her lunch. After a few more silent moments, Carolyn softly said “he probably thinks I’m a freak. Any time I’m around him, I just clam up and can’t say anything. My heart starts pounding and I get all sweaty.”

“You’re overthinking it way too much. He’s just a boy, they hardly think at all. You could look him straight in the eye for weeks and basically scream to him that you’re in love with him, and he still wouldn’t get the hint. If you want him to have feelings about you, you first have to get on his radar. Start talking to him whenever you can. I guarantee you that he probably doesn’t have any feelings for you now,” Carolyn’s chin started quivering, “but that’s how boys are! Their feelings come much later than ours do.” Sallie quickly finished, hoping to console Carolyn before she started crying.

“How do you know so much about boys? It’s like you always have the best advice, but you’ve never had a serious boyfriend.” Carolyn asked Sallie, almost in awe.

“I’ve read a lot of books, first of all. But also, I have guy friends, mainly from band, and whenever I ask them about some girl, they’re always clueless. Honestly, they’re not that difficult to figure out. Once you’ve got one figured out, the rest tend to follow.” Sallie explained confidently. She had always prided herself in being a ‘master of the male mind’. Carolyn nodded in acknowledgement.

Vera changed the subject, “okay, so what are we doing after school? The callout for student counsel isn’t until Wednesday, and I imagine we won’t really have any homework to worry about either.” Vera often was the one who brought Sallie and Carolyn back down to earth when they were in their boy dreamland.

“You guys can come over to my house if you want! My mom loves you guys and I’m sure she’ll be okay with it.” Sallie offered.

“Okay great, I’ll try to convince Andrew to drop me off at your house. Carolyn you’re welcome to ride with us, as long as you’re okay with sitting on my lap.” Vera was excited, but a little wary of asking her older brother to drop her and Carolyn off at Sallie’s. Thankfully Sallie lived close to the school so it wouldn’t be too difficult of a fight.

“I’m fine with that!” Carolyn exclaimed. She loved being able to ride home with Vera, that way she didn’t have to ride the bus for another half hour back to her dad’s apartment. “I’ll text my dad now and let him know that I won’t be home until later.”

“I’m not sure how fast the bus will be getting me and Lara home, but it was really quick this morning, we were the last ones picked up. Hopefully I’ll get there before you guys do, but just knock on the door and mom will let you guys in.” Sallie explained. One benefit of having a sister with special needs was that there were very few kids on the bus, and usually they were dropped off quickly.

“Okay, sounds good!” Vera quipped. The girls were about to shift onto another topic of discussion when the loud bell sounded throughout the school. They all groaned and closed up their lunchboxes to hurry to their next class.

The rest of the day was equally as uneventful, and before they knew it, Vera and Carolyn were in the student parking lot looking for Andrew’s car. Soon they spotted the almost-10-year-old minivan, with Jaret leaning against the side. Jaret was just a year older than Vera, and he could have been her twin. The three teens waited for a few more moments before they spotted the Brudowski twins, Adrian and Andrew casually walking up to the van. “Oh hey Carolyn,” Adrian smiled and said hello to Carolyn, which caused her to blush.

“Where are you about to beg me to take you two?” Andrew asked, in worse of a mood than his twin.

“Just to Sallie’s, it’s right up the street!” Vera quickly explained, giving her brother her best puppy dog eyes. Andrew just rolled his eyes and unlocked the van, gesturing for them to get in. As soon as the five of them were in the car, Andrew rolled the windows all the way down and started blasting ‘River Runs Red’ by Life of Agony. Carolyn sank into her seat and tried to ignore the headbanging teenagers around her, including her best friend Vera. Growing up with four older brothers, Vera was seldom intimidated by such things as death metal or even violent threats.

Sallie had made it home before her friends were dropped off. She helped her mom get Lara inside and fed, then cleaned up a few stray things in her room as she heard the heavy metal music blasting from the Brudowski car pulling up into her driveway. Vera knocked on the door and opened it without waiting for a response.

“Oh hey girls! How was your first day of high school?” Camila Ewing enthusiastically asked before hugging each of them.

“Hi Mrs. Ewing, it was pretty boring honestly, not as scary as I thought it would be.” Carolyn explained, with Vera nodding in agreement. Sallie rushed into the room and smiled at her friends. Quickly, the trio disappeared into Sallie’s room, shutting the door behind them and making themselves comfortable on Sallie’s bed.

“I don’t know how you handle those brothers of yours.” Carolyn said, exasperated from the short car ride.

Vera chuckled, “this has been my whole life. You literally have to fight in my house to get enough food, or else the boys will eat everything in sight. Although, it is slightly better now that John is at U of I, now at least the girls aren’t outnumbered.” Carolyn always loved listening to Vera talk about her family. Vera seldom had the girls over because of how full and hectic her house was anyways.

“That sounds terrifying but so exciting. So much more exciting than my stupid house. Ever since mom left my dad and us, dad hardly even talks to us. I feel so bad for Sam. He just started 6th grade today, but dad didn’t even seem to care.” Carolyn was rarely this open about everything going on with her family. Yes, she could fall apart at the drop of a hat over boys, but when it came to the drama her mother had created in her family’s lives, she was usually silent. Vera and Sallie were surprised to hear this much about it. Carolyn had told them a few months into their friendship what had happened with her mom, but the way she explained it sounded so sterile and without any associated emotions. The other girls didn’t know what to say, so silence fell over the trio.

After a few moments, Vera cleared her throat and said, “well quiet is definitely not something that comes cheap in my house. The few moments of quiet I hear are during mass.” Vera chuckled awkwardly while Carolyn stayed silent.

“It’s quiet at night too, right?” Sallie asked, eager to change the subject.

“Yeah, right. Between hearing the t.v. blare and my brothers’ various pornos going on in the rooms surrounding me, it’s a wonder I get any sleep at all.” Vera rolled her eyes. Now she had both girls’ attention.

“Pornos? What do you mean? You can hear that???” Carolyn asked, mystified.

“Yeah, pornos, like porn, duh. My parents’ room is downstairs so my dad can get up and run to the hospital without disturbing the rest of the house, so they can’t hear anything that goes on upstairs at night. I don’t know why my room is in the middle of Andrew’s room and Jaret’s room. Honestly, I need to switch with Jaret, that way it’s boy’s row and girl’s row.” Vera explained, not understanding the point her friend made.

“Okay yes we know the layout of your giant house. That was not the question – the question is what is that like? How much can you hear?” Sallie interjected.

“Most of the time I just hear girls moaning way too much. But I don’t know, it really depends on what they’re watching. They’re not very subtle with it, so I can hear most of the videos. Honestly, I wish my parents had paired the boys up so that they would at least pretend to be subtle about masturbating.” At the mention of masturbation, both Sallie and Carolyn blushed and giggled.

“I hope I never hear anything like that coming from Sam’s room.” Carolyn shifted on the bed, cringing at the thought of her younger brother doing that.

“I won’t have any of those issues, benefit of only having a sister.” Sallie quipped, “not like anyone would get away with that, you can hear literally everything in this house.”

“That is a very nice benefit of having my parents on a totally separate floor. Especially since their Catholic selves would absolutely abhor some of the things going on upstairs. Catholicism absolutely forbids any form of ‘self-pleasure.’” Vera explained while rolling her eyes, “they think that you should only have sex to procreate, then never have any more sex again, especially not before you’re married. If you ask me, it’s just a ploy to get people to marry younger and have more Catholic babies.” Vera had got started on one of her many stands against Catholicism and what it preached.

“I wonder what sex is like.” Sallie said dreamily, still lost in the unknown world of sexuality.

“I wonder what sex with Michael would be like.” Carolyn joined Sallie in her fantasy.

“I’ve heard it hurts like hell and isn’t really worth the pain to go through it.” Vera coolly explained. From what she had heard in her oldest brothers’ rooms, it didn’t seem like the girls were having that great of a time. This comment pulled Sallie and Carolyn out of their dreamland and caused them to grimace. That would be enough sex talk for today. Sallie grabbed her mom’s old laptop that she inherited and opened up YouTube. The girls spent the rest of the afternoon watching music videos and other funny videos. Soon enough, Vera’s mom knocked on the front door. Then Camila and Janet Brudowski spent the next 30 minutes chatting before Janet took Vera and Carolyn home.

#writeblr #original writing #young adult #new adult #writing #writblr #writers of tumblr #writeblr community #writers #WIP #glass kaleidoscopes

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writerpyre · 7 years

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I’m getting truly sick of being insulted by my mother. I honestly don’t know why I bother waking up in the morning when the person I’ve dropped my entire life for (because she’s been sick and I’m her daughter and she needs me to be her bitch so her other daughters don’t go into care and she doesn’t fucking end up dead) continues to believe that I’m meant to pull miracles out of my arse.

According to her, I’m meant to do everything that all three of them need to do, plus house chores, plus go with her as moral support to her doctors appts, plus jumping when she says jump and wants to go and do things that ‘need to be done’, but I don’t get to do my things I need to do, and yet I can be ‘too lazy’ to do the things I have to do in sorting my room so I can actually sleep in it again instead of on the lounge floor, and yet when I dare to say anything about any other godforsaken thing she wants me to with sorting and replacing the crap she wanted to move around with new furniture when she couldnt stand up much, she tells me that I do ‘nothing’ for her.

This is of course, on top of the things that I, as someone who will be supposedly going back to jobsearching when Mum is back on her feet has to do, plus work, plus somehow create content for my folio, plus get enough sleep, plus not complain when she asks me to drop everything to do things for her, then have her complain when I’m ‘sitting on my bum’ and trying to just breathe for reasons she knows about. She then thinks she can insult me by daring to insinuate I’m lazy and self-absorbed when I take an hour at night to sit down at my computer and try to unwind before I go to sleep by doing something I enjoy because oh ‘you’ve got so much to do…’, and yet she can also fucking insult me by saying that I’m not going to cope with full-time work, because it takes me ‘hours’ to get ready in the morning.

Oh, lets see, that happens because I get so hung up about my appearance so no one can see what a fucking mess I am inside, that I’m so 'slow’ to start my day because she and my little sister stay up until all hours and yet accuse me of oversleeping, and yet if I only fixed my bedroom chaos with things I need to cram back in cos she decided to (get us to) clean the walls, I could go to bed early. When am I meant to get to this, get my bedroom done without someone else’s needs getting in my way, when work isn’t taking up my time, when I need to run an errand that only I can do because I’m the only one with the brains or the physical ability to do it, because Mum doesn’t fucking bother asking any of her friends to help with anything, it all falls back on me. Yes, any other adult has to run a house and do chores and work. I understand that. I do. But I’m pretty much following the whims of three other people and not being able to care for myself, with said three people berating me all the time, in their own ways. Yes, sure, I’m not the only one with problems. Yes, great, there are things to do, yes, they’re not getting done, no I haven’t gotten to them yet. When am I supposed to get them done. With what time? And with what fucking energy?

I have been struggling to get out of bed, to go about my day and get trying to get through it, for over two and a half years now, and I have no motivation, no drive, no hope that anyone is going to care aside from those thousands of kilometers away, who can’t help. Last year, I had to tell my mother, in the dark of night that I wanted out, I want to fucking top myself, and she promised that she’d help me, she promised she’d do anything to make sure I’m okay, that she’s here for me and I’m ‘not alone’. She’s done completely the opposite. She’s done absolutely nothing to show me aside from the fact that 'she arranged’ (aka got me a couple of pamphlets) counselling for me, that she cares about anything in my head whatsoever. To her, in her words, I’m ‘twisted’ in my thinking and I’m being overdramatic when I say that something is hurting me. That I’m complaining and that I need to suck it up.

She has made no effort to give me any slack or consideration or sympathy or empathy, when I give her all of that and more, and she continues to berate me on anything and everything, not back me up when my idiot of a little sister is being a bully and always makes me out to be wrong, no matter what the circumstances. I am over it. Every single fucking time Mum needs something, I drop everything to help her. Every fucking time Mum doesn’t like something, (God forbid I use swearing as a coping mechanism, because God knows I don’t have any other fucking outlet in this world), I get picked on and degraded and told I’m lazy and rude and disrespectful, every time I do something she disagrees with, or I say no to cos I’m busy with something else (usually something for her right then, or just fucking trying to breathe) she cracks the shits and tells me what an awful person I am for daring to stand up for myself.

Though wow, she tells everyone else how proud she is of me, how much she appreciates what I’m doing. I have to kowtow to everyone else in this house, and yet I’m not allowed to try and breathe for one damn fucking moment, and say how much I’ve got to do, but not have one single moment’s metaphorical break to try and deal with what the fuck is going on in my head? I am done. I am so fucking done. She doesn’t seem to care what I am dealing with anymore as long as it doesn’t fucking inconvenience her because she’s been ill. I cannot literally do anything further than what I am doing for this family right now, I’ve taken over care for my older disabled sister officially this time, I should hopefully be getting a letter next week to confirm it, and that is still not good enough for Mum because she’s ‘not getting a payment’ (never mind that’ll be going straight into the family anyway cos that’s what we do, pool our fucking resources to keep a roof over our damn heads), and she’s apparently worried she’ll have to reapply to be her carer etc, so she’s dragging me down to Centrelink next week, so of course I’ve done that wrong too, even if she later blamed them for ‘misleading us’ her first instinct was still to get mad at me because I didn’t do everything exactly as she expected me to mind-read that she wanted.

She loves me, I know she does. I know she’s scared and hurting and has been through the goddamned wringer, no I am not surprised she’s sick and tired of things, and that the girls aren’t exactly a picnic in terms of their emotions either, but everything is falling on me, I have to pander to everyone else and bend and step back on what I’m doing wrong because it hurts them. It probably sounds pathetic and selfish and awful, because I’m not the one who’s been in and out of hospital, but I’m sick and tired of sucking my feelings and fears and everything up for my family, and not getting one whit of anything in return.

This is sucking me dry and I don’t know what to do. Even before Mum got sick I was floundering and this has just made it worse, and I’m a thousand more times scared for the future than I ever was before. Mum’s in kidney failure and is refusing dialysis when the time comes, which means this will all fall on my shoulders again, her foot is still stuffed cos of a whole ‘nother issue cos of the home nurses and podiatrists not listening when something fucking isn’t working, but everything falls on me no matter what, I’m always Mum’s punching bag and emotional target and I’m tired.

I don’t want to live anymore, I’ve lost all interest in finding a job in my career field, God forbid I ever have the chance to have a good enough folio for that (last year was my plan to do that while doing Honours; well fuck, that went down the drain didn’t it, even though I wouldn’t hold being damn sick against my mother, just her behaviour) but I have no time, and no inclination anymore, and I’m lonely and scared and terrified of losing my mother, and being stuck and dealing with two lonely, terrified girls, and there’s no one to help.

I want something to end one way or another, and if I have to take things into my own hands, if I have to snap and do something irreparable to escape this living hell, then so fucking be it. I can’t do this.

#pyre talks #personal #negative #fuck #fuck fuck fuck fuck

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theapplesweremonitored · 7 years

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Hi there! I had a question. So, I'm on the fence about pro-life/pro-choice. Women's bodies are their own and they should have a say in what happens to them. But...At the same time, they're pregnant with a to-be baby. And I'd really like to see know someone else's view. Like, I said. I'm on the fence and I just want someone else's opinion on the matter. That's, if you don't mind talking about it.

That’s cool, I don’t mind at all! In fact, here’s a few other posts that may be of interest to you and have really shaped my own perceptions.

Tbh, I’m not the most unbiased or, uh, sensitive of people to ask about this, but I suppose that’s the point and I’ll do my best to answer in a way that doesn’t devolve into ranting. (Edit: this got very long and kind of rambling, but hopefully it doesn’t come off as mean.)

First off we need to establish that I’m asexual, aromantic, at times agender, and have less than zero desire to be a part of any stage of the human reproductive process. In all honesty, pregnancy is a very special kind of body-horror to me, and that likely factors into my reaction to the self-styled “pro-life” side. Because, when you get right down to it, much of the “pro-life” side isn’t pro-life, it’s pro-fetus.

You’d think if a person was pro-life, they’d care about, say: the homeless epidemic, or how America likes to march into foreign countries and murder a shit-ton of people, or all the queer/lgbt+ people who are victims of hate crimes. They’d care about people of color who are murdered by the police every day, or the thousands of kids abused by a system meant to protect them, or women (and, of course, others) who are victims of domestic violence or rape culture. But the thing is, a lot of them aren’t.

Because, like I said, a lot of them only care about the fetus, and care nothing for the woman* who’s carrying it. Once that baby is born, they cease giving a fuck because obviously if it’s been born, then their job is done, and they don’t care what happens next. They don’t care if those women carrying the fetus was raped, or got drunk and didn’t use protection, or did absolutely everything “right” and still got pregnant. They don’t care that those women don’t want to be pregnant; those women don’t want to give up forty weeks of their life to what (when you think about it clinically) amounts to a parasite; those women don’t want to give birth; those women don’t want to be responsible for raising a child, and often don’t have the means to do it right.

A frighteningly large amount of “pro-lifers” are white Christians who refuse to acknowledge the complexities of pregnancy, childbirth, and child-rearing. They argue that “life begins at conception” but say nothing about the life or lives that may be ruined by that conception (and subsequent birth). They use the Bible to justify forcing women to carry an unwanted fetus to term, and then also use it to justify hate crimes against queer/LGBT+ people, discriminatory treatment of PoC, and the general subjugation of women. Oh, and we can’t ever forget the Islamophobia and general air of xenophobia that usually accompanies them as well.

In essence, a more accurate description of the pro-life side is anti-choice, because that’s what it comes down to.

Listen, I don’t mean to be a dick about this.

I get that you haven’t made up your mind and that the idea of terminating a potential human being (and I stress this word because like 90% of abortions take place during the first trimester, when it is more accurate to call it an embryo) probably squicks you out.

I totally understand that.

But it’s important to be aware that for a lot of people on the anti-choice side, their little crusade is just another way to express their bigotry and their hatred of women, often queer/LGBT+ women and women of color.

Story time:

My grandmother on my mom’s side got pregnant out of wedlock when she was sixteen. That became my Aunt Dawn (for whom I was named) and she’s the sweetest, most well-meaning woman… maybe not in the world, but that I’ve ever met, certainly. But guess what? Grandma Kathy didn’t want her. She was sixteen, she made a dumbass decision, and didn’t want to have a kid. But you know what her parents did? They told her they were taking her to get an abortion, bundled her up in the car, drove several states away, and dropped her at a “home for fallen women.” They didn’t tell her where they were leaving her, or for how long, or anything. Just that she could come back “home” later. “Later” meaning after she gave birth to my Aunt Dawn.

Listen, I love my Aunt Dawn. Out of literally all of my family, and hoo-boy there’s a lot of them on either side, she’s basically the only one that I even like, let alone love. But my grandma didn’t want my Aunt Dawn and she shouldn’t have been forced to have her. She shouldn’t have been lied to and abandoned and blackmailed into having and raising a child. And it took a toll on her, let me assure you.

Okay, I like my grandma well enough, okay? But she isn’t exactly the healthiest person, she doesn’t have the healthiest relationships, and doesn’t make the healthiest decisions. She’s had five daughters and two sons by several different men, she’s poor and unemployed, and I’m pretty sure she’s had some issues with drinking.

If I were able to go back in time and help her get an abortion, I fucking would. Even knowing that it would mean that me and my sisters and my nephew and my mom and my Aunt Dawn wouldn’t exist, I would still do it. (It sounds terrible, but I don’t care much about my uncles and cousins. They’re all a bunch of fucked up assholes.)

And now let’s talk about my sisters. I have a lot. I have one who got pregnant in her senior year of high school and had to drop out; my nephew is going to be four now in a few months and she’s only just gotten a job that pays a living wage.

I have another who’s currently pregnant and with the guy who knocked her up even though he’s and idiot and an asshole and makes her cry; I fear for the future of both her and the kid that’s on the way because those futures are not gonna be fuckin pretty.

I have two (adopted) sisters who are actually sisters themselves; only half, though, because their dad is a piece of shit who couldn’t keep it in his damn pants and didn’t even try. He’s in prison now and blames his parents for everything that’s gone wrong in his life, up to and including the fact that he isn’t fit to take care of his kids. (I know this because he’s my step-dad’s kid and sent a long series of texts to that effect to my mom a few months ago.) My new little sisters’ moms are both drug addicts who couldn’t be trusted with their daughters. And, of course, my sisters have another sister by another woman (who’d also had drug problems but is now clean and takes care of her daughter) and a brother that I don’t know much about.

And then, of course, there’s my other sisters on the other side of things, who are desperate to have children. I have one who’s been trying with her husband for a couple of years now, who’s had fertility treatments and has visited multiple doctors to try to figure out what’s up with her junk, because we know it’s something but don’t know what. She’s slated for some kind of surgery soon.

I’ve also got another sister, my oldest, who wants kids. She just got married to an old friend of hers who I had never even heard of until I was invited to the wedding. She stayed in a relationship with an abusive ex-Navy Seal for years because he kept dangling the possibility of having kids with her like a fucking carrot. They had physical fights, she had to take all kinds of medication for anxiety and shit, and liked to combine them with alcohol because being in a relationship with him was such a fucking trial on her psyche.

My immediate family alone pretty much runs the gamut of reproductive experiences, barring (to my knowledge) sexual assault and the fact that (to my knowledge) they’re all cis.

What I’m saying is: there’s a lot of shit out there. A lot. There’s girls who got pregnant on accident, and never even consider abortion. There’s girls who got pregnant on accident, and never got access to abortion. There’s girls who want to get pregnant but can’t because of medical reasons. There’s girls who want to get pregnant and men use that to abuse and manipulate them.

I support all of them. I support those that never consider abortions; I support those that want abortions; I support those that want to carry to term; I support those that are desperate to get pregnant in the first place. I support each and every one of them, for all that I am completely unable to empathize with those that want kids in the first place.

I support them because, even though I have no idea what any of that must feel like, it’s their choice and I respect that. Anti-choicers, pro-lifers, whatever you wanna call them, they don’t respect that. They treat pregnancy like it’s the be-all and end-all of human existence and experience. They treat women who get pregnant and want to abort as if they’re stupid, irresponsible, the devil himself, etc.

Now, if you’ve made it all this way, then I’d like to apologize for all the detours and digressions and also congratulate you on getting through them all. As you may have noticed, I’ve got some thoughts on the subject in general as well as some tangentially-personal experience. What it all boils down to is this: while it may affect us, while it may impact the course of our lives, unless it is us who is the one who is pregnant, it’s not our decision. We can have opinions; we can offer advice; we can counsel the one who is pregnant. But, when it comes right down to it, the only one who gets to make the decision of whether to carry to term or abort, is the one who is pregnant.

And, to me, that’s all there is to it.

*not everyone who becomes pregnant is a woman and may be instead nonbinary/genderqueer or a man who was assigned female at birth. However, I very much doubt that someone who cares very little or (more likely) absolutely nothing for a person’s body autonomy will care anything for respecting their gender identity.

#slice of life #anon asks #answered asks #reproductive rights

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leagoldsbrough8-blog · 7 years

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She just threw it out there as a non-sequitur in a conversation that started about the Minions movie; and watched as I spluttered over my drink. Alrighty, so lets talk about Shaz. I collected myself and grinned, "If it comes to that, I’ll happily watch. We arranged to meet up a few weeks after the festival and Shaz procured a few more pills for us. Shaz is a mid 30’s divorcee, and we met at a music festival through mutual friends.

Nothing happened there, although we had a definite connection, albeit one fuelled by drink and drugs. We went back to hers and got naked and horizontal whilst in the throes of chemically-induced, loved-up passion. We got back to hers and literally began ripping each others clothes off. Notwithstanding the fact that we were both hopped up on MDMA and were basically loving everything and everyone, that first night was perfect. I reached around and stroked her thigh, and we were making our excuses and jumping in an Uber about 10 seconds after that. There was a party going on in the flat above us and as I pushed her down on the rickety wicker IKEA patio furniture, I asked, ‘Aren’t you worried about upstairs? Including on the balcony – her idea. I want them to hear us. ’ She grabbed me and guided me into her, moaning as I did so, ‘It’s ok. I remember becoming instantly rock-hard as she brushed her ass against my groin on the dance floor of the Court – a gay venue in Perth. In fact, I find myself going down on her all the time, just because of how smooth it is. I’ve been seeing Shaz for a few months now, and I suspect her deviant nature is only just beginning to surface, even though I’ve had an inkling since our first night of hanging out together during which she confessed that she wanted to go down on another girl while I watched. " She scowled, ‘fuck that, you’ll be getting involved as well. After what seemed liked forever, but was probably only a few minutes, we both realised that the noise from upstairs had died down and, both of us giggling, I half carried/ half dragged her into the bedroom. ’ Nothing’s happened yet on that front, but watch this space, I’ll let you guys know how that turns out. That first night I couldn’t tear myself away from it. Shaz is in phenomenal shape, and gets IPL, so her pussy is as soft and smooth as you could ever want. Nothing gives me greater pleasure than having her squirm and scream and grab the sheets as she fills my mouth with her cum. Now I’ve been used to pretty vanilla stuff so far in my sex life, but I think Shaz is the one to jump down the rabbit hole with, sexually speaking. Fucking her hard to within an inch of orgasm, then pulling out and going down and tonguing her relentlessly. She doesn’t want to have sex. In fact that’s it exactly. Ironically, I think we’re only able to push these boundaries because we actually do respect each other. Not to mention the fact that she tastes great. I needn’t have worried at all though, as she commanded me to thrust into and spank her harder. We ended that first night doggy style in front of her floor to ceiling mirror with me pulling her hair and spanking her hard, somewhat worried that I was being too rough. I used to think that treating a girl like this would make me respect her less, but I’ve found that the opposite is true. We screwed like bunnies for hours in every imaginably position and in every room in her apartment. I think being married for so long and being only with one guy, there’s a lot that she hasn’t done and now wants to explore. Quick as a whip, she shot forward and turned round, breathing ‘come for me’ before taking me in her mouth and swallowing every last rope of cum. I don’t think she even realises she’s saying it, but when she does, I don’t have a chance and I blow my load within seconds. I grunted and warned her that I was about to come. The ‘cum for me’ has become a thing for me as well. Anal, creampies, swallowing, DP, rough, nasty, treat like a slut, animalistic, raw fucking is what she wants, and I absolutely aim to please. It reminds me funnily enough of Sarah-Louise, who liked to say ‘come into me’. The difference is, SJ knew exactly what she was doing in that respect. Having a dick in my mouth. Speaking of getting older, lately there’ve been a few instances of, shall we say, failing to rise to the occasion. An absolutely brilliant weekend, although we paid for it heavily over the ensuing few days. She said later that that was a first for her. Hey I’m getting older, and hangovers are lasting ever so slightly longer than they used to. So that first night was an epic marathon of non-stop fucking, as was the Sunday recovery day. Honesty, trust, and all that shite. I don’t mean to let you guys in on more than you care to know about me, but this shit’s important, yeah? She wants to get fucked. I’m a bit old fashioned and generally eschew the ‘opening up to a stranger’ approach, but I may have to bite the bullet on this one, there’re things lurking beneath my surface that I need to properly get rid of. So much for the bad boy, huh? If you cherished this article and you would like to receive additional data with regards to online porn webcams kindly check out our web site. Looks like it’s counseling time boys and girls. Talk to your ladies fella’s, no point in both of you stressing out separately! Initially I put it down to the seriously heavy drug use, but it’s happened without drug use as well, and the more I’ve stressed over it, the more I’ve come to dwell on an incident in my chequered past that I thought I’d dealt with, but perhaps not. Shaz for her part, was stressing that it was her fault, which I never realised was a thing. Add to that the fact that she lives round the corner from an adult store, there’s no shortage of things she wants to try. I’ve reassured her that it’s nothing to do with her at all, and have been more than happy to please her in other ways if and when it comes to that. ’ She tossed the book at me on her way out the door, ‘Familiarise yourself. I haven’t read that book in years. I’ll let you guys know how that turns out as well. ‘Why haven’t you told me about this? I shrugged, "I honestly didn’t think about it. Shaz noticed this on my shelf this weekend as she was leaving and skimmed it eagerly. I have Tim Ferris’ book, ‘The 4 Hour Body’, which I bought in order to try out the weightlifting and strength training sections, but there’s also a section entitled, ‘the 15 minute female orgasm’. She has a nice little collection of vibrators that I tease her with relentlessly. ’ So there we have it, next weekend, limp dick or not, she’ll be orgasming for 15 minutes.

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mindgazer · 7 years

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I swear to fuck these men are nothing but shit.

I’m so tired of guys suddenly breaking off long term relationships without any reasoning or explanation and not even trying to work things out. Tell me why after 20+ years of marriage my father just ups and starts acting funny on accounts of my mother and sister, just as I had to take a break from college I watched my family fall apart. He finally leaves and I emotionally have to help my mother through the divorce process and help her come to terms with it, while also dealing with my own shit with school just for this bull shit my sister tells me after visiting him this past week. Why is it is always the guys who suddenly break free, ruining the women in the process come out all prosperous while the people you leave behind is suffering alone? How is that even fair? Why doesn’t he hurt like he hurt her? Us?

Why is it after he just up and abandoned us (because as far as I’m concerned you divorce my mother you divorce us as a family, me and my sister included) he gets this big house with some other woman there. My sister visits his place last Thanksgiving and she brings home pictures of this house. This shit stain has a BIG ass house, with upstairs random rooms with bathrooms in said rooms, a fucking ENTERTAINMENT ROOM (not like the family room or some people call it dens/livingrooms) with a wide theater like tv screen for movie viewing. How dare he get some damn near brand new house while in the divorce process he’s getting part of mom’s retirement and mother had to borrow money to BUY HIS HALF OF THE HOUSE SO WE CAN HAVE A FUCKING PLACE TO LIVE! I was already through with him when he pulled that shit before the divorce, I’ve seen how he affected the house, it made living at home toxic to me emotionally and I hate him for that. But my sister being the bratty daddy’s girl that she is finds it in her heart to visit him. I want nothing to do with him or that fancy house of his, I may never go there.

Why is it now after my sister comes home after a week of staying there I learn things from her through my mother. Apparently this shit of a man literally went through some midlife crisis, because he had this fancy ass sports car he never drove when he was home (only for special occasions) and he’s with some hussy damn near 30 years his junior (she’s 30something and my father is damn near 60 being 58) like what the hell. But the kicker was when she comes home today (technically yesterday since this is the AM as I’m writing this) and this evening after dinner I over hear her talking with my mom and I don’t hear anything specific but I hear my mother saying ‘you don’t have to cry, it’s okay’ and the way my mother said things I knew it was about our father. I had to pretend I didn’t hear anything but later she sums it up for me. Basically this man does things that he never does when he was with us and it was upsetting for her to learn how he just changes his whole self up with someone else. HE sat on his ass all day while my mom slaved away in the kitchen while at this new place he cooks with this new lady (like how cute is that shit like cooking with your bae), and so many other things. And she kinda learned this bit of news that solidifies in my heart he cheated on my mother. The hussy slipped up and said to my sister that she saw some movie with our father when it came out and my sister realized that that movie came out in 2014. Now this shit storm happened in 2013, my sophomore year of my 1st run in college, and they had to be separated for a year before the divorce can be final so that is all of 2014-15 and the divorce got settled 2016. And as far as I’m concerned not only are you still considered married till that divorce is settled to see a movie in 2014 means you knew this person for some time before then meaning all those times he was going off to ‘Alabama to see his sisters’ was him fooling around with some hussy.

Now I can’t be mad at her completely, it takes two to ruin a marriage. I blame him, and my mother is taking things a lot better than before but throughout those years it was me having to talk her through things because she didn’t want to burden my sister who was still in high school at the time. She’s forgiving him and moved on (which is so strong and wonderful and I’m proud) but I can’t forgive him for what he’s done and how much shit he contributed to 2013 being my worst year ever. I’ve already accepted that I could care less about him. But it makes me angry that I had to learn my sister was crying, CRYING about the man she was closest to over some bullshit. I hate that he’s having a good life while we’re suffering and money is still tight. I hate that the only thing my mom can say to comfort us (but I think it’s more so herself cause I’m not buying it) is how he’ll account for what he’s done before he leaves this earth and how he did us wrong and that he came into the world alone and will die alone, his possessions won’t go with him. I’m angry at how much he’s made my sister cry, and my mom suffer. I’m angry because I’ll never know why he wanted to divorce so bad and I’m forced to speculate on my own. I think 20+ years of marriage deserved some sort of counseling to work things out. I think even though there may not be a solid answer, even if it’s just he fell out of love I think she deserved to know and she didn’t even get that.

This bit of news just solidified with what I already knew. I’m angry the person I had such a long relationship just decides to take a break, meet someone new during the break and had me holding on thinking we’ll work things out, drops the bomb and shatters everything, never giving us a chance. It doesn’t matter how long you be in a relationship, in the end, these guys will leave and move on at the drop of a hat while you are here crying over them struggling to move on yourself. I’ve had enough, I’m so angry at men, at him, at my father, at myself. I don’t know if I even deserve happiness at all, all I ever wanted was something to share with, to be happy with but being reminded of a failed 20 year old marriage makes me unable to trust anyone. How can I put my heart in anyone else after witnessing the fall of my own relationship but the one of my family. Conclusion: the key to my happiness will be anime, writing and cats to live with. And men are just garbage.

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