#also. ‘j will carry all your names and i will carry all your shame’ btw. if you even care. /ref | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

wri0thesley · 2 years

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hiiii <33 if you're still taking the little requests, could you do something with kaeya & choking/hand kink + maybe make him a little bit fucked up? ☹️☹️ there's been a distinct lack of Fucked Up Kaeya fics lately and i think that needs to be fixed but i cant do it all by myself hehe (also his hands r so sexy) thank you!!! (this is that one very old anon that asked how you felt abt kaeya back when you hadn't written anything for him btw if you remember me lol im still on my kaeya bullshit and also i love your writing)

cw: non-con/dub-con. dark content. yandere kaeya. captive reader. choking. not sfw, minors dni. kind of angsty.

Kaeya's thumb strokes across the hollow of your throat; his other hands curled about the rest of it. It would take only the barest shift for him to be pressing the heel of his hand against your larynx - to be pressing down, to be severing your air supply and watching you choke on nothing.

His other hand, of course, is currently buried between your thighs. He's two fingers deep inside of you, the noise of his fingers scandalously loud and terribly wet, as he thrusts and curls them with a bright intensity lighting his one visible eye.

"You shouldn't have screamed," he tells you, and you stare at him with furrowed brow and frightened eye, desperate for him to not press you any further. "Don't I take good care of you, sweetheart, huh? Why'd you wanna leave me? Am I not meeting your standards?"

A particularly harsh thrust of his fingers, a particularly rough curl as the pads of said fingertips dig mercilessly against the spongy sweet spot inside of you. You desperately bite your lip to stop from crying out, tears bubbling in the corners of your eyes.

"You can answer me," he tells you - one mercy, though the Cavalry Captain has said in no uncertain terms that you're not to scream or to whimper or to moan whilst he fucks orgasm after orgasm out of you, lest he decide to keep you quiet by choking you. There's a pitch to his voice; something behind the usual carefully composed cheer that almost sounds genuinely hurt. "Come on. I'd love to know what you're going to say!"

"I-I'm sorry," you whisper. "I g-got carried away--"

"Am I not good enough?" He asks you - and there's something there, in his eye, that suggests it's more than mere surface level. The hand between your thighs slows down the desperate pumping for just a moment.

(The slower rhythm is worse. You feel every joint of his fingers, the callous on his fingertips, as they leisurely stretch you open and your thighs tremble against your will. Despite the fear of being choked, you're wet - and you can feel, too, droplets of slick sliding down your inner thighs, being pushed back inside of you with every stroke of his hand).

"N-no!" You say, desperately. "O-of course not, Kaeya, I'm sorry! I j-just wanted to go out--"

"What's wrong with my company?" He demands, shifting his weight. Bearing down on top of you, his one eye bright and wild in his fervour. "Do you think there's anyone out there who'd be half as interesting as me? Want you half as badly?"

"O-of course not!" You're babbling. Kaeya can see that you're losing the thread of the conversation in your terror; can practically feel you desperately squirming your way out of this conversation. Watching you react in this way is, he has to admit, adorable and terribly gratifying . . . but his annoyance that you tried to run has not faded. He gives you a sharp smile.

"Alright," he says. "Suppose I believe you. Just . . . show me that you mean it. Show me you can keep your pretty mouth shut, right? It's not hard, is it? All I'm doing is fucking you on my fingers, I've done it a hundred times before--"

(And you always like it. You always come apart for him. You always wail out his name, choke back moans, wrap an arm about his neck and drag him into a kiss so that you're not quite so shamed by how easily you give in to your captor and how much pleasure he brings you).

"I will," you continue to babble. Kaeya's hand tightens imperceptibly on your throat at the same time as he plunges a third finger inside of you, as he slowly circles your clit with his thumb with that same pressure that always seems to do something inside of you. Your hips buck. Your back arches. Your mouth opens, and--

And a soft cry falls from it. Tiny. A mouse squeak; so gentle that most people would never hear it.

But Kaeya does not get to where he is without being able to pick up on such tiny things. His grin sharpens; the stars of his pupil gazing down at you with something that's half tenderness and half savage glee.

"Sweetheart," Kaeya purrs. "You lost."

He presses down. Your eyes widen as your airflow is cut off; suddenly, what little air that is in your lungs is a precious commodity as Kaeya's fingers squeeze, as you try desperately to not choke it all out in a terrified gasp. It all feels so thin, where you're keeping it in your chest - and Kaeya's still grinning, still enjoying himself, his fingers still inside of you as you tighten around them quite against your will. Your vision briefly spots.

And he eases off. Lets you take a great, heaving gasp - lets the spots dissipate.

"One to me," he says to you - relishing in the game he's making, of holding your life and your pleasure in his hands all the same. "You can't imagine how tight you got around my fingers . . . D'you think you'd do the same around my cock?"

He shifts again; a heavy, hard heat presses against your inner thigh, inside of Kaeya's fashionably but impractically tight trousers. He smiles.

"Let's see."

#not sfw text #drabble #ask game #yandere kaeya #writing #genshin impact posting

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mysteryartisticwriter · 5 years

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Hogwarts Newbie // Stefan X Reader X Colin AU

A/N: Back on my bullshit again lmao. So this is actually a requested AU of Bandersnatch that I think needs more attention and to be seen because this is an amazing AU!! I’m actually surprised there’s not more stuff about it.

Also! I’m so sorry this is late!! My mom and I got into a disagreement and now she took my phone so I won’t have it for a while. I would make a whole rant on how I’ve been but I won’t do it now.

HARRY POTTER AU (MAURADER’S ERA)

REQUESTS ARE OPEN BTW

Requested: Yes // Can you write stefan and/or colin in Harry Potter AU?

Warnings: Not much, probably some cussing here and there but nothing serious tbh

Not my gif!! (Please tell me if you, the owner, would like me to take the gif down!)

“God damnit...” You hissed to yourself as you struggled to make your way through the crowd of people in the big station. It didn’t help you were carrying all of your luggage on a huge and heavy cart.

You knew exactly why all of these people were here, as they were here for the exact same reason as you; they were trying to find their train. But while others eventually found their station, yours was a bit more difficult to find.

Platform 9 3/4 was written on the letter you were sent.

Your parents had already left, saying they needed to head to work. They both wished you luck, said their goodbyes and left you on your own. A 13 year old trapped in the middle of the train station not knowing where to go. It wasn’t the first time this happened, so you weren’t really bothered by it.

This was your first official year at the well known magical school, Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry. While it was your first year at Hogwarts, it was actually your third year of studying the wizarding arts.

You were from America, and at 11 years old, your parents decided to send you off to Ilvermorny, the American school of Witchcraft and Wizardry. But in the last year, your parents enrolled you at Hogwarts in the UK, where they had their new jobs.

The only problem was, you couldn’t find where the train station to Hogwarts was. There was no given instructions by your parents or on the letter saying anything. But none the less, you continued to search for it anyway.

“Excuse me? Do you know where I can find Platform 9 3/4?” You asked a man holding a suitcase, passing by.

The man scoffed at you.

“What do I look like? A fool? Bugger off.” The man barked at you. Then he walked off into the lost crowd.

Huffing in annoyance, you turned on your feet and continued to look.

“Hello uh...Miss?” You heard a voice from behind you.

When you turned around, you noticed a boy around your age with pure white, blond hair. They were spiked upwards and his bright, sea blue eyes were covered with thin framed glasses. The blond boy wore a light blue polo shirt, with a plain white shirt underneath. His blue jeans were pulled up so you could see the red and crazed colored socks he wore with his black converse shoes. The boy was quite handsome for his age.

Behind the blond male was another boy, who seemed to be cowering behind him. He had dark brown and curly hair that seemed to stick out in all places, to which you found adorable. The boy’s eyes were like a hazel color that were so mesmerizing that you almost got lost in them. He was wearing a dark green jumper with a black collar and black trousers. The brown haired boy didn’t look so bad himself, although he seemed to be shy.

“Yes?” You tilted your head at the boys.

“We couldn’t help but notice you seemed to be having some trouble looking for Platform 9 3/4. We also happened to be heading there as well, so we,” the blond boy gestured to the shy male behind him, who waved shyly. “We thought you would fancy some help?” He finished, showing off his clear British accent.

Your mouth formed into a grin and you smiled brightly at the two.

“Yes! Thank you so much! You’re going to Hogwarts, correct?” You questioned him, as the two males pulled their luggage with him and gestured for you to follow them.

“Mhm, I’m taking a guess to say that you’re new.” You nodded.

“This is my first year at Hogwarts. I used to go to Ilvermorny.” Before the blue eyed male could answer, the brown haired boy spoke up.

“The wizarding school from America?!”

Suddenly embarrassed by his outburst, the shy boy quickly looked back at the ground in shame. You laughed a bit and smiled at him.

“Well that would clearly explain the American accent.” The blond teen pointed out.

“Yup. But my parents decided that Hogwarts would fit me better, seeing as they got jobs in England.” You replied.

Your smile made the boy seem a bit more comfortable with you, emitting a petit smile back from him. After following the two for a few more minutes, you stopped in front of a plain brick wall. Confused, you turned to the males.

“Um, what are we doing at a brick wall?” You questioned.

“We’re here. Come on!” Taking his luggage cart with him, the blond boy raced right into the brick wall.

You were about to yell out to stop him before you noticed that the boy was gone. It was as if his body went straight into the pillar and disappeared. You’ve seen a lot of stuff at Ilvermorny, but this was something else. The shy brown haired boy grabbed his cart and pointed towards the wall.

“J-just follow me.” Then ran into the wall, copying his friend before.

Still in a bit of shock, you hesitated before letting out a deep breath, and raced into the wall. You were expecting to crash, but instead you were led into what seemed to be like another side of the station you were in.

Trying to sustain yourself, your eyes wandered over to the boys who helped you. The blond wore a smirk while the hazel eyed boy smiled a bit.

“Taking a wild guess that Ilvermorny didn’t have this?” The accented boy questioned, the sly smirk still planted on his face.

With a giant grin you answered, “Nope. This is...amazing!”

“Welcome to Platform 9 3/4, love.”

After getting all of your luggage onto the train and finding a train cabin that wasn’t already occupied, you and the two boys managed to relax and take a seat while the train started to move.

You stared out the window as the train passed by many fields of the outside world. It was a very beautiful sight to see. Finally turning your gaze away from the train window, you switched it over to the two boys who sat across from you in the cabin.

“By the way, I never got your names.” First, the blond one spoke.

“I’m Colin, yeah? Colin Ritman.” He said. You smiled at him and then fixed your sight to the brown haired boy, who shyly spoke up.

“B-Butler...St-Stefan Butler.” You could barely hold in your squeals at his adorableness.

“I’m (Y/n).” You greeted with a smile.

“So, tell me about Hogwarts. What makes it the “best” wizarding school out there?” You teased them, leaning forward in your seat.

Colin smirked and leaned back in his seat, while Stefan sat next to him, sitting the closest to the cabin doors and leaned against the wall.

“Of course it’s the best, why wouldn’t it be?” You laughed at his cockiness.

“Welp, to get started, there are four houses at Hogwarts, which I presumed you already figured?” You nodded.

You used to be in the Thunderbird house at Ilvermorny, so you already knew there would be houses at Hogwarts, but different ones.

“The best one is Slytherin—“ Just then, Stefan interrupted.

“A-Actually, the best house is Ravenclaw. Don’t mind him, he just likes to brag about being in the most annoying house at Hogwarts.” The once shy boy rolled his eyes, to which you giggled at.

You were pretty sure that Colin was in Slytherin and Stefan was in Ravenclaw.

“As I was saying before I was rudely interrupted, there are four houses; Slytherin, Ravenclaw, Gryffindor and Hufflepuff. Slytherin are cunning and loyal, but we’re not the most kindest people. Ravenclaw are smart and wise, Gryffindors are brave and daring, which makes most of them pretty dumb if you ask me...”

Stefan elbowed Colin in the stomach a bit, causing the blond teen to laugh and cry out in pain at the same time. You continued to listen closely.

“And the last one is Hufflepuff, it’s not one of the most known ones but it’s nice I guess. They’re kind, friendly, patient, and they value their hard work. It’s not as good as the others but it’s an okay house.” Your eyebrow furrowed at his words.

“An okay house?”

“Yes, what about it?”

“Nothing.” You leaned back in your seat and stared out the window.

“It sounds like a very nice house, I think I would like to be in Hufflepuff. Being a Hufflepuff sounds like the best thing in the world.” Stefan grinned at you, while the edge’s of Colin’s lips rose a bit.

“I think you would make a great Hufflepuff. Sounds a bit like you. But Hogwarts is a big place, so don’t be too overwhelmed by it.”

Looking over to the two boys, you smiled.

“Don’t worry, I think I’m going to like Hogwarts.”

A/N: I lost inspiration at the end lmao

TAGGED:

@creativedogs

@sugarfloss

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simpleboox-blog · 5 years

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Colours: Chapter 1; Brown - Red

Pairings: none yet

Warnings: gore (sorta intense and descriptive fight scene), kinda fluffy at the start.

Word Count: 1.4k

A/N: Okay so this is kinda my first time doing something like this but I really like the idea of using colours. It really sets the scene and the mood (for me anyways.) I would really appreciate if you like and reblog because I don’t get a lot of attention at my blog. But hey I don’t mind either. Btw if you do like and reblog this I instantly love you and will follow you.

Masterlist here!

Sam and Dean aren’t actually in this chapter, this is just introducing (Y/N) and her “tragic” accident that started it all.

Rain wasn’t promised today. Or anytime that week really. But she brought an umbrella with her anyways. She was thankful for it that evening as she was walking home, when a small drop of water landed on her forehead. She grinned as more drops began to fall and she opened up her brown umbrella. The colour was the same as the autumn tree trunks and the wild hare in among the leaves that had fallen on the ground. Walking, she passed an antique store, two thrift stores, a grocery store and a large ice-cream store. Everywhere was closing up, and she waved to each of the owners that were there. Only a couple of cars past, and she met not even a few people on her walk.

Eventually she arrived home, an old but beautifully designed building that was now filled with apartments. She opened the door and a blast of heat hit her in the hallway. Shivering, she took down her umbrella and closed the door behind her, letting in a couple of autumn leaves. To her right, was three apartments. The first one, occupied by a businessman who was rarely home. She barely saw him, but when she did he was always wearing a suit and carrying a briefcase, muttering to himself about how late he was to go somewhere. The second one, occupied by a cheery couple that go by the names of Tim and Joe. Tim worked at the grocery store. He was quite generic and plain, he also helped her with her accounts sometimes. Joe was an artist. Always creating splashes of colours on canvases, and baking the most amazing apple pie you will ever taste. And the third, occupied by a young girl, still in college. She lived with two of her friends and they were throwing parties almost every weekend, which bothered the other residents of the apartments.

There were three floors, and she lived on the third. She walked up the stairs, her boots squelching with the rain. There were only two apartments on the second floor. One was unoccupied, and the other was owned by a kind old lady named Linda, who invited her in for tea every Sunday. On the top floor, her floor, was her apartment and a man named J’s apartment. J and her got along amazingly and they practically lived in each other’s apartments. J’s proper name was Jessie, but he hated it so he stuck by J. She moved in just over five months ago, while J had been here for two years.

Fumbling for her keys, she tried to open her apartment door, only to realize that it was already. Hesitant, she opened the door wider only to smell the most amazing cookies ever. She realised the breath she was holding when she say J, wearing an apron and a stupid grin, standing in her small kitchen. He placed a second tray of cookies on the counter and closed the oven. “Scared me there J.” She said, shrugging off her coat and hanging it on one of the hangers. She also kicked off her boots before closing and locking the door behind her. He chuckled, looking over at her. “Sorry. Guess I forgot to lock the door after me.” He said taking off the oven gloves and untying the apron from behind him. “Guess you did.” She said clicking her tongue.

“I don’t mean to pry.. but it’s been a while since you were over here. Everything alright?” She said walking over to take a look at the cookies. She heard J sigh and sit on the couch. “Not really.” He said. “Wanna talk about it?” She asked picking up two cookies and placing them on a plate. She put on the kettle as well for some tea. He shook his head. “Nah. I just kinda want to be with you for a bit. Just for tonight.” He said. She nodded and poured two cups of tea. Knowing exactly what J liked in his and what she liked in hers. She put the cookies and the tea down on the coffee table and sat down beside him, knees touching. “Alright, well, we’ll have a super cringey sleepover then. Cause’ I know they’re your favourite.” J looked at her with a mocking shocked face. “Are not!” He said. “Uh huh. With facemasks and cringey romance movies and blankets and cookie dough and-,” He started laughing and she stopped talking to laugh with him. “Okay maybe I do like them a small bit.” He whispered. “Knew it.” She whispered.

It was a couple of hours later, and her and J were watching the notebook on the sofa, her head on his chest and them both under a thick blanket that she had found in a drawer under her bed. She hated to admit it, but she loved being this close to J. He was different tonight, in a good way, sort of. He wasn’t stiff and awkward and acting like he was three feet tall. He was calm and charming and even slightly flirty. His hand was questionably low on her back and he gave her occasional smirks and grins. She sighed and shuffled closer to him, feeling her eyelids getting heavier.

A knock on the door startled her and she sat up, moving J’s hand off her reluctantly. She must have been drifting off, because she couldn’t tell what was going on in the movie. “I’ll get it.” She yawned, standing up and shrugging the red blanket off her. J gave her a concerned look before standing up beside her as well. “Are you sure? Who would be knocking this late?” He said. Already she could feel a shift in the mood of the room. It got a little bit colder and J seemed to be standing taller, making her feel quite intimidated. Suddenly the door lock began to open and she gasped, taking a step back. J was the only other person with a key to this place. And he was standing beside her. He put out an arm to protect her from whoever was currently picking the lock.

The door swung open and- and J stood there. “Sorry, I heard voices so I let myself in….” his eyes grew wide as he saw the other J standing beside her. “What the hell..” she whispered. “Get away from him.” The real J said. But fake J just laughed and she swore for a minute she saw his eyes turn a greyish- silver colour. “What Jess? Scared? Scared of me? Or should I say scared of losing her?” Fake J cast an eye over her and she stood back trying to get as far away from him as possible.

Fake J grabbed her arm to stop her and she screamed, struggling to get out of his grasp. He pulled her close and grabbed her other arm. “And she’s so pretty too. A shame.” Real J huffed with anger and grabbed a bat, swinging it violently at fake J but missing and hitting her over the head instead. “Oh jesus sorry!” He shouted. She fell to the ground, a ringing noise in her ear. But she’s gone through worse. Grabbing a vase off the coffee table, she threw it at fake J but he caught it and smashed it into a thousand pieces. He then grabbed her by the collar of her sweater and smashed her against the wall, again, and again until the ringing got worse and she swore she could feel bones breaking and she was struggling against his grip but he pressed a hand to her throat and slammed her one last time into the wall, making her gasp and choke on blood she was coughing up.

Real J finally grabbed his shoulder and threw a punch to his face. She slumped down to the ground, blood pouring out of her head and mouth. The two J’s were struggling but the fake J was stronger, stronger than any person. She saw fake J grab a knife of the counter she tried to scream but another fit of coughing and blood came and she tried to get up to help but her knees gave way and she banged right into a bookshelf, causing her to slump down into a shriveled ball again. Real J was shouting and fake J was bringing the knife into his chest and it was like it was all in slow-motion and she wanted to scream but nothing could come out. She felt she was drowning. Drowning in blood. In pain. In the blanket. In the curtains. In the coat on the hanger. In the colour red. She was drowning in red.

Read Part 2 here!

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toongrrl-blog · 4 years

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The Mommy Myth: Threats from Within (Part One)

Okay time to see the Moms “gone bad” and other Moms who required a lot of empathy but only got vilified on the media or were given anxiety inducing media.

This was the era of the tabloid show like A Current Affair and America’s Most Wanted, “the crack baby epidemic”, depraved maternal figures, teen moms, smothering mothers, Lifetime movies where shit goes wrong, surrogacy, and the news that no you cannot let your kids go walking to the park by themselves. The era of sensationalism made no care for maternal ambivalence nor for the nuances of individual mother’s lives, only for black and white. Heroes or villains. No grey area.

The “deviant mothers” featured were vilified for being supposedly narcissist and self-indulgent, odd given that I previously covered celebrity moms. But the celeb mom is portrayed as self-indulgent and narcissist on behalf of her kids and everyone who looks at her. Throwing money on diets, spa treatments, workouts, beauty treatments, and clothes were “necessary” as it was so someone had something pretty to look at. But have needs or desires that had nothing to do with your family, you were so bad!

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Scene: Suburban New Jersey, 1985. Dr. Elizabeth and Mr. William Stern wanted a baby but Dr. Elizabeth Stern was in her late thirties and had multiple sclerosis and they went to the New York Infertility Institute and were approved for surrogacy and hooked up with Mary Beth Whitehead, a homemaker and high school dropout with two children and a husband who was a sanitation worker. As she said:

I don’t have an education. I don’t have a skill. The only skill I know I do well is being a mother.

A contract was signed where Mary Beth would be paid $10,000 upon the Sterns receiving the baby, where she’d be impregnated with William Stern’s sperm and the Sterns would pay her medical expenses and a $7,500 finders fee to the Institute. On March 27, 1986 Mary Beth gave birth to a baby she named Sara and she had a change of heart and decided to keep the baby. The Sterns wanted the baby and the judge awarded temporary custody to the Sterns, who named the baby Melissa. When William came to pick up Baby M, the Whiteheads bailed for Florida with the baby, leaving their two older kids with the grandparents there and lived on the run (BTW this is a perfect scenario for a movie, I think Raising Arizona was loosely inspired by this).

Mary Beth’s actions flew in the face of what “surrogate moms were supposed to do”, they were supposed to be like Elizabeth Kane in 1980 and kiss the baby goodbye to a more affluent life (Kane eventually testified on behalf of Mary Beth). Or get pregnant and give the baby away to your infertile sister or be like Glenn Close in The Big Chill where she let her single friend sleep with her husband so she can have a baby of her own. Like Susan J. Douglas and Meredith Michaels, I subscribe to Mo’Nique’s school of thought regarding your friends and your man (maybe the Smug Marrieds should watch this and think twice about flaunting their rings to Bridget Jones):

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People had a lot of shit to say about the Baby M situation, it involved issues like classism and sexism, who deserved the baby? The woman who carried her for nine months but was lower middle class and married to the garbageman or the biochemist who donated the sperm and paid the money? The trial started in the New Jersey Superior Court on January 5, 1987 where Whitehead was hit with several old-fashioned stereotypes about women: they can’t make up their minds and they are hysterical. Gary N. Skoloff, attorney to the Sterns, went Maddy Perez like the Whiteheads were a pot of chili. Skoloff listed 35 reasons why Mary Beth shouldn’t get the kid, amongst them was her mental health and her marriage to the garbageman with a alky problem. Also Mr. Stern recorded a phone conversation with Mary Beth unbeknownst to her. She was frantic: the Sterns had a judge freeze her family’s assets (which included the home, furnishings inside, car, and bank accounts). The media didn’t hear that or report it but they did on the desperate Mary Beth saying “I’m going to do it Bill....I’m going to do it; you’ve pushed me to it...I gave her life. I can take her life away”. The subtext also that being under educated and working class were not factors in making a good parent.

Honestly if your assets were frozen by someone who had the means and connections, wouldn’t you be unhinged? I think that Mary Beth needed to be treated for postpartum psychological issues rather than reviled as “The Crazy Woman” and don’t we make the worst arguments, imagine if you appeared saying and doing dumb shit like Bridget Jones and it was played on TV? Also on the tapes she was recorded as saying “I’ve been breastfeeding her for four months. Don’t you think she’s bonded to me? Bill, I sleep in the same bed with her. She won’t even sleep by herself...she knows my smell, she knows who I am--don’t I count for anything?” The media didn’t show that. More judgments came as her background opened up: her husband is an alcoholic, she and her husband separated for a while and she was on welfare in the past, her son had school issues (imagine how many affluent parents have kids with that problem), daughter Tuesday had frostbite when the furnace broke down (I’m not hating, winter in the East Coast sounds rough), and they went to the slut-shaming route when they got Mary Beth to admit she worked as a “barroom dancer”.

And now it got really nasty: she didn’t play patty cake right (!), took pots and pans away from the baby and gave her a stuffed panda (uh I don’t know what kind of pots and pans they were around but I’m Latina), she dyed her prematurely gray hair brown (oh the horrors!)...a word from Karen Wheeler for now:

All these made her not an ideal mother. Okay am I getting some pissed off women in this post? Unicorn colored haired girls? Bottle blondes? Fake redheads? Anyone covering the grey? Henna heads? Well soon feminists and celebs like Our Queen Meryl Streep, Gloria Steinem, Carly Simon (one of our reigning Ladies of shady breakup songs), Lois Gould, and Betty Friedan all issued a statement of solidarity with Mary Beth Whitehead reading “By these standards, we are all unfit mothers”. Thank Jesus for this action of solidarity because the media was playing one of it’s favorite games: pit women against each other. Dr. Elizabeth and Mary Beth were represented as doctor vs. housewife, barren vs. fertile, educated vs. under educated; so far the media was on Dr. Elizabeth’s and her husband’s side, which was okay for her but while the media cut her slack for being a quiet ride-along who was professional and educated and “of the right class” she got away with things that the media wouldn’t be kind with. While the media covered Mary Beth’s deteriorating mental health, they didn’t cover her testimony which read like a list of things that would normally get moms judged:

She wasn’t going to cut back on her work because “I didn’t realize how much time is required to raise a child.”

She claimed she was the “psychological mother” and therefore the true mom.

Her husband’s testimony said they’d have the kid in full-time day care (probably a nice day care like the academy in Daddy Day Care).

Activities with Baby M were trips to Bloomingdales.

During a cross-examination, Dr. Stern said she wouldn’t want to see the baby if Mary Beth was awarded custody

So what of Mr. Stern? He was basically cosplaying Ted Wheeler.

And he said “Fathers have feeling, too” which made him appear like the victim to the public when he had the means and access to a lawyer who went savage on Mary Beth. On April 1st (haven’t you heard, irony is dead), Judge Harvey Sorkow awarded custody to the Stern family on grounds that they provide better care than Mary Beth could (or afford). Mary Beth Whitehead was denied visitation rights by the judge, enabled the Sterns to adopt Baby M who was officially named Melissa Stern. Later that month it got bittersweet for Mary Beth: she regained brief visitation rights but got divorced and she remarried and had two more children, which the Sterns’ lawyer said was proof of “her personality problems” (wow imagine if the Duggars were tarred with that brush) while she tried to fight for longer visits. The next year saw Sorkow’s ruling thrown out by the appeals court on grounds of condoning baby selling, the adoption invalidated, and Mary Beth’s standing as mother restored. She got visitation rights, years later Mary Beth and older daughter Tuesday went on Dr. Phil where they talked about the case. Tuesday said the case contributed to the divorce and the strain was too much for the late Mr. Whitehead, who died from cancer years before their appearance. Mary Beth said she wouldn’t recommend this and if she had the chance, she’d never do it again, being a surrogate mother. At that time, Melissa was 16 and according to Mary Beth their relationship wasn’t good and she did attend Tuesday’s wedding though but claimed the Sterns made it difficult for the two half-sisters to have a relationship. Then five years later, Melissa was a junior at George Washington University as a sorority member and religion major and found it strange when the case was brought up in her Bioethics class, she hoped to become a minister and a mother and at 18 she allowed the Sterns to fully adopt her, terminating Mary Beth’s rights.

And those fixing their lips to say that the Sterns had more rights because they could afford a “good life” for her? I leave this for you to watch.

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So the media savaged Mary Beth Whitehead, a working-class white mother who gave birth to a healthy and chubby baby, how did the media treat poor, drug-addicted black mothers and their “crack babies”? (TL;DR, it was bad, very bad, you know it’s bad bad really really bad!).

Up next...and for all you moms dealing with the judgements from an unhelpful world, here are words from Lois Foutley

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