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royallyprincesslilly · 8 months

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Cautionary Tale on Carbon Monoxide

So, for the last 2 weeks or so my smoke alarm/carbon monoxide alarm has been beeping sporadically. I paid it no mind because there was no smoke, nothing was burning and I did not think it could be anything else. I assumed the alarm or batteries were going bad because they had been here forever ago.

So, we changed the batteries and bought a new alarm, and installed them through the house a week ago. The beeping stopped. However, a few days ago while I was cooking the beeping came back. Again, no smoke in the home and nothing was burning. We are searching trying to figure out why it keeps going off.

I constantly have my essential oil diffuser plugged in and running so some searches came back saying certain essential oils might set off the alarm if strong enough and my 16-year-old has been fear rubbing herself with Citronella essential oils(repellent for mosquitoes) because whenever the door opened these new breed mosquitos fly in and she is terrified if her face and body looking like a swollen pepperoni pizza🙄😂. (The concerns of a 16-year-old who was looking out for her upcoming first day of school face card status lmao)

Finally, after some YT videos and Google searches, we began to suspect it was beeping because of carbon monoxide. So we hurry and get out of the house, food still on the stove half cooked, and wait for the gas/electric company to come to investigate and fix the problem.

When the tech comes he walks inside the house and instantly the machine he carried to check the PPM set off a reading of 41. This level is highly dangerous and prolonged exposure can result in health risks and possibly death.😳

He continued to walk through the house and found pockets in the house where the PPM was 38-41(still dangerous). He goes into the kitchen and instantly says, I see your problem. He goes to the stove and points to my favorite, can't live without have used almost every time I cook 11" Copper Chef casserole pot and says this is the culprit.

Apparently, the size of the pot covers my entire burner so there is no ventilation happening under the pot which is bad. He then points to another favorite pot on the back burner and says this one is also bad because of the size of the pot. He turned on the fire under the Copper Chef pot and instantly his machine went up to 144 PPM😳.

I was appalled. He asked about how we all were feeling and asked who the cook in the house was and of course it was me✋🏽. I felt fine. I usually always have headaches and feel tired, he said I could be suffering from long-term carbon monoxide exposure and should go to the hospital to be sure.

To make this longer story just plain ol' long, I say all of this to caution you guys on pot sizes for your gas stove burners and to say it could be the things/ways you least expect.

Tips from the gas/electric company tech

-Make sure your pot is not bigger/wider than your burner flames.

-Turn on your overhead vent or open your kitchen windows when cooking for either or both of these: 1) If your pots are bigger than the burner flames or 2) To take an extra level of safety.

-If you are using bigger pots try to open closet doors throughout your home because the carbon monoxide can creep into the closed closet and remain there for hours.

-In your gas using ovens do not have any liners or protectors(the ones you put down to prevent spills or drips as you bake) on the bottom of the oven if they come anywhere near the two ventilation slits in the oven(where the flames/heat rises).

-If you have done all of the above and constantly feel lightheaded, dizzy, persistent headaches, fatigue, sleepiness, be safe and just get it checked out in the ER or Urgent Care.

Be safe out there y'all. Carbon Monoxide is known as a silent killer.

#PSA #carbon monoxide #cautionary tale #the more you know #Psa: carbon monoxide

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armory-rasa · 3 months

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Bazubands part 1: A LESSON IN HUMILITY 🤣

So one of my projects for the winter break was to make a set of bazubands made for myself -- a middle eastern armor piece that provides all-in-one wrist/forearm/elbow protection, and the easiest way to get the coverage required for SCA fighting. (My garb is viking, but such are the exigencies of modern safety standards, that fighters usually wind up with a mix of armor types.)

Anyway, I packed up the necessary tools and materials and took them with me when I went to visit my parents, which is why the backdrop for these pictures isn't my usual workshop.

Found a pattern on google, cut it out of 10-12 oz veg tan, traced/carved/tooled it:

(You can see why this is the easiest way to get elbow protection, it's WAY less fiddly than trying to do articulated plates around the joint.)

Soaked the elbow cop again (because it was starting to dry out by the time I was done tooling), rounded it out and stitched it up:

Dyed it black, in my parents' backyard:

(And if you use Angelus dyes, that's how you keep from spilling it -- the box has little perforations so that it can hold the bottle safely upright.)

WAX THAT MOTHERFUCKER:

It doesn't show in that picture, but I have a metal bowl of wax (jeweler's casting wax) melting on the stovetop. I alternate between brushing it onto the leather, which looks like the picture above, and then putting the leather in the oven at ~200F, at 10-20 minute intervals, until the wax soaks in. Repeat until the leather is fully saturated and does not absorb more wax. (This often takes hours, so find something else to multitask with.)

But when you're done -- ta da!

Your project will be thoroughly waterproof, very strong and hard, with a low lustre. It's functionally ABS plastic at this point.

The next step was padding, so I got some sheepskin and and fitted it to the inside:

(idk why it's so fucking orange, but the alternative was kind of a mint-mucus green. I think the orange is growing on me though.)

Time to pattern the other, simpler piece of the bazuband, because they're hinged to enclose your full arm:

(I couldn't do this earlier, and therefore do both pieces concurrently, because I had no idea how much bulk the padding was going to add to my arm. I suppose you could wrap your arm in padding when you're measuring at the start.)

Slapped a quick design on it:

(And carved & tooled it too, though I neglected to get pictures of that.)

And then--

DISASTER, MY FRIENDS.

I put it in the oven, and it lost its gd mind.

WHAT.

Seriously, just -- words do not do this abomination justice. o_O

LOOK AT IT.

Coming so close on the heels of the Khorasan pouch, which had turned out absolutely perfect and has been more widely shared and lauded than anything else I've posted, this was a humbling experience. 🤣 Like, yes you're good, Gabriel, but you're not immune to fucking up.

So what happened here? Why did the same leather as the bazubands, undergoing the exact same steps and processes, turn out like THIS?

I'd have to repeat the experiment to 100% confirm my theory, but I'm pretty sure the critical difference is that I was speed-running this one, and I didn't wait for the dye to fully dry before I started waxing it. It wound up with, essentially, wet leather hermetically encased in wax, and since the water didn't have anywhere to go, it did weird things to the structure of the leather fibers when it started heating up. And because I don't often work with wax, I had somehow never run into this situation before, and thus already learned that lesson.

Ah well.

It wasn't a huge amount of leather, and it was only like two hours of work, so I'm not that fussed about it. (More embarrassed than anything else, at what feels like a very rookie mistake -- and conscious that it could have been SO MUCH WORSE if that had happened to the larger bazuband pieces, which had a lot more time and materials sunk into them.)

Anyway, I'm going to tweak the pattern a bit, make it narrower at the wrist and a bit longer, and change the design to something that matches the dragon better -- and let it fully dry this time. 😂

#leatherworking #wip pics #bazubands #liveblogging projects #cautionary tale

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theropoda · 4 months

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the way eva yan saw daniil n was like ooh i can fix him. and then she kiIIed herself

#cautionary tale #tw suicide #t #pathologic

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allhailthe70shousewife · 9 months

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📡All Hail The 70s Housewife congratulates Madonna. All the plastic surgery and MediSpa treatments have been successful and her long-awaited, hard-won, and much dreamt of transformation into Edward G. Robinson is almost complete! Nice work, Madge🥂👍🏆⭐️

#partially nostalgia #self indulgent post #idle chat #catty gossip chat #can you tell i am not a big madonna fan?#do not fuck up your face with plastic surgery and treatments #cautionary tale

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confused-bi-queer · 3 months

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Back on my MalMage agenda

After almost 2 years of plotting and driving myself insane, I finally decided to publish the first chapter of my "MalMage is canon" fic.

A slow slow burn with a lot of angst and smut. Canon divergence.

I'm sorry Rainbow.

Cautionary Tale

Rating: E, and has MCD

Word Count: (28.5 k posted; 61 k in WIP)

Summary:

What if the adults in the Carry On books were actually Watford students? What if we took MalMage seriously and gave them a real backstory?

This is the Carry On equivalent of "All The Young Dudes", and it starts in 7th year at Watford but with other students. Perhaps Malcolm and Davy?

Read on AO3

#malmage #malcolm grimm #david cadwallader #fuck the mage #my writing #my fics #my fanfiction #cautionary tale #carry-on #simon snow series

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anastasiaskarsgard · 5 days

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So everyone is raving about how good bills body looks and while I can respect and appreciate the work and sacrifice required to reach this physique, let me fuck you up with some facts.

I have had several boyfriends that had this body:

Seems nice at first but then you go out together and they buy you food, but you notice they eat very plain simple things. Steamed plain chicken, veggies and maybe brown rice with no seasoning.

Ok maybe he just doesn’t like powerful tasting food. You go to the movies and get snacks and he won’t touch them. No soda is already a rule set in stone, but you thought maybe popcorn would tempt him. Nope.

You guys go to a birthday party. He won’t eat the ice cream and cake. He might take a small bite to be polite, if people are looking, before getting rid of the rest of it.

If you go out drinking, he likely drinks gin and tonic or vodka tonic, or possibly straight shots. No fun tasty shots, because by now you’ve figured out that he thinks sugar is the literal devil, nope, he takes straight liquor shots.

Later that night, when you feel like some drunk people delicious fare such as late night Mexican food, or breakfast, he likely will go and just watch you eat or have some egg item. No cheese of course or salt because it’s also the devil. So is butter.

Holidays roll around? You better not like sharing treats with him, because he likely won’t want that stuff even around him. If he’s not one of the bitter ones that makes you treat food like the other person in your relationship, he for sure won’t partake.

Now I am not hating on them by any means. I absolutely respect the determination and willpower they possess, to live this way. It’s just not for me.

They also have to go in the gym a lot and it would help if you enjoyed the gym as well. It could give you two a lot of bonding time. You can reach your goals together and push each other to be the best you can be. If that’s what you’re into, you go girl.

Personally I watch what I eat to a degree and I make sure to go walk everyday. Sometimes I go to the gym, and horses are quite a bit of physical work to maintain and ride, so while I’m quite active, I am not a gym rat by any means. Sometimes going to the gym for me is like once or twice a year. Lol.

So since I’m sure some of you look at this body and swoon, be aware what comes with it, and they’re not very comfy to cuddle.

If your sex is vigorous enough, there’s bruising and bones and muscle clashing together is more uncomfortable than you’d think. Hip bones clashing are a rarely mentioned reality if you’re both very fit or thin.

Plus the veins… yuck! I hated those fucking veins. I dated this Lithuanian guy that became a professional body builder while we dated and omfg. I used to lay there looking at him, and eventhough he was a very gorgeous guy, those veins ruined him as he got crazier and crazier. That was a bad break up. He did NOT like being dumped.

Ego maniac is Also a common side effect to this body type.

#bill skarsgard #bill skarsgård #cautionary tale #personal #bill looks nice tho #it’s just for the role #the hair is ridiculous too #but I dig it

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talefoundryshow · 7 months

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“Why?” is a question as old as humanity, and stories to help explain the “why”s behind seemingly unexplainable phenomena have existed for just as long. If you know where to look, the echoes of mythical etiology are still with us today.

#tale foundry #writing community #writing inspiration #writers of tumblr #writers on tumblr #modern mythology #mythological #mythologies #mythology #ancient myths #myths #urban legends #urban myths #cautionary tale

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cherries-in-wine · 28 days

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It's so fascinating to me that the books that were supposed to be cautionary tales are now being used almost like an instruction manual.

Take lolita by Vladimir Nabokov for example, it's a Gothic horror novel written from the perspective of an unreliable narrator (the pedophile) but many people (wayyyyy too many people) see it as a love story. Especially on tumblr lolita is romanticised a lot. How people manage to call a book where a 12 year old girl is consistently abused romantic is beyond me.

Another example is 1984 by George Orwell however this one is more subtle. 1984 is about a dystopian reality although now it seems more like a prophecy. There are so many parallels to ingsoc (the philosophy 1984 follows) in our current reality. The book was also banned in several countries and states (you know you've written a great dystopian novel when the government starts banning it).

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themarydragon · 22 days

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So even if you DO lose the weight and the pants DO fit again they're OLD and they might split right up the ass when you're lining up a shot at mini golf when you're out on a double date with your brother & his girlfriend for the first time.

So. Like. Invest in cute underwear.

#just saying #cautionary tale #luckily I was wearing 6“ inseam progress pride stripe briefs #so my visible cheek was adorable #also I have to stop being cheap #gotta buy new pants #damnit

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systemic-dreams · 5 months

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#cautionary tale #this christmas season #dont fall for it

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bitter69uk · 11 months

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It’s been fascinating to read the mixed reviews by Hollywood Reporter and Variety for Netflix’s new exposé Anna Nicole Smith: You Don’t Know Me (which follows hot on the stiletto heels of the recent documentary about Smith’s contemporary, Pamela Anderson). Is director Ursula Macfarlane’s show biz cautionary tale about the tumultuous, ruined and abbreviated whirlwind life of the Playboy playmate, pin-up and reality TV star guilty of precisely the kind of prurience and voyeurism it criticizes? I watched it last weekend and found it mesmerizing. Like many Gen Xers, my introduction to Smith came via her dazzling 1990s Guess jeans ads, where she evoked golden age Hollywood bombshells like Mansfield, Monroe and Anita Ekberg (in the same way Claudia Schiffer did for Bardot). Who then could have anticipated she was doomed to die by 39? Some of the doc’s revelations: it depicts Smith as someone whose identity was always in flux. Long before she adopted the name Anna Nicole Smith, when teenage single mom Vickie Lynn Hogan from the shitkicker town of Mexia, Texas first started dancing in topless bars, she asked to be called Nicky. Smith’s painkiller addiction began pre-fame: her breast implants caused her a lifetime of agony. (Towards the end she was taking the heroin replacement methadone for pain management). I’m already inclined to sympathize with Smith for how she was exploited by the sneering tabloid press, but You Don’t Know Me doesn’t shy from her darker side. Smith cynically exaggerated and fabricated aspects of her childhood to garner press coverage. Her relationship with her 86-year-old billionaire husband J. Marshall Howard was – um - problematic. (His forlorn answering machine messages beseeching Smith to call him are a painful listen). For better or for worse, Smith was the closest I’ll ever get to a Jayne Mansfield equivalent in my lifetime. Now Let’s hope her 16-year-old daughter has a happy life out of the limelight.

#anna nicole smith #doomed beauty #doomed blonde #glamour #hollywood babylon #glamour jungle #cautionary tale #platinum blonde #lobotomy room #jayne mansfield redux

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serendip8y · 4 months

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"But the following April, Polychron attempted to sue the Tolkien estate and Amazon over the spin-off TV series The Rings of Power, which he claimed infringed the copyright in his book. A California court dismissed the case after the judge ruled that Polychron’s text was, in fact, infringing on Amazon’s prequel, released in September 2022."

#cautionary tale #fanfic #copyright #be careful what you wish for #jrr tolkien #tolkien estate

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grumpling · 1 year

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i’ve railed against alpine linux but everyone should be aware of the risks beyond it just being a bad idea

#sucks to your libc #linux #divorce #cautionary tale #autosuggestions

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anqelstears · 1 year

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my apology. (from an ex-proshipper)

i encourage both sides to read this, but make sure you read the content warning segment.

CW // sexualization of the following : grooming, abuse, sexual assault, incest, “lolisho”

i will never post this on my main. i have drowned myself in lies and the guilt of it all will never let me rest. this is an apology for whoever wants to read and a cautionary tale for the ones who are, unfortunately, going down the same path i regrettably chose for myself. if it brings peace to anyone or if it prevents something truly terrible, i will feel accomplished. my asks will be open if you want to let out your frustrations on how stupid i once was. i am encouraging you to, since i’m too much of a coward to suffer any kind of major consequence, feel free to tell me all of the nasty things you may feel once you’re finished reading this, and to whoever finds nothing wrong with what i have done, please revaluate your stances.

i used to be a proshipper, if the title hadn’t made it obvious enough, and i regret every second of it. i’m not even sure where it even began, everything feels like a blur. the more i try to remember, the foggier it gets. my therapist doesn’t quite understand the discourse, which, of course she doesn’t, but she has told me i have developed an anxiety disorder and according to my version of events (what i remember, at least), she’s convinced i have been taken advantage of by these people who i called my friends.

and i believe her. i hate admitting this. for once, i will put my pride aside and say that i’m gullible. i’m an idiot. i believe her when she tells me they’ve taken advantage of me and i believe her when she said that they radicalized my views and that i would do anything to feel like i belonged in a space. i’m desperate to feel anything else but alienation. all my life, i have longed for this feeling and they knew, taking advantage of my past trauma that i, regrettably, told them about. i was one of those people that used fiction as a coping mechanism to deal with my childhood trauma. i can’t stress enough how dangerous it is for you to make yourself vulnerable like this on the internet, and the worst part of it all, i should have known better. i was 18 years old when this happened.

i have done terrible, terrible things. i forced myself to be okay with lolisho, to be okay with abuse, incest, sexual assault. all because “it was all fiction”, and “no one was getting hurt”, but deep down, it was hurting me and so many others. i engaged in conversations with these people. i was told that my trauma was hot and they wished to be groomed, to be sexually assaulted, and all i could do was nothing because i knew what the consequences were. i would be shunned and would be alone again. these people loved me, they told me so, often.

i drew for them, i wrote for them, i wanted them to love me more. i felt like i was on top of the world, so many people enjoyed my company. i had friends. i was blinded by these rose colored glasses.

they loved me so much, until i started realizing how terrible they were. i saw how other people felt about them, how invalidated other victims felt. i felt terrible, knowing that i had contributed to it. i distanced myself from them and once they realized i did this, i was suddenly a target. i was harassed nonstop for hours, days, even. they love to preach about being anti-harassment until you’re no longer okay with the stuff they enjoy. suddenly, you’re a nasty anti or an anti dickrider.

they didn’t love me anymore, and leaving was one of the most liberating feelings i have ever felt. i should have known better, but i unfortunately was in too deep. this wasn’t an attempt to excuse my actions, this was my story, my side of things, what i remember.

i’m sorry if you’ve ever seen my posts on my old accounts, and i’m sorry if i made you relapse, i’m sorry for making you feel like i was glamourizing your trauma, i’m sorry for everything i have done. i denounce proshippers, i denounce this era of my life, i wish i could erase it, but i can’t. i will live the rest of my days with this and i hope that nobody goes through the same things i did. my actions are disgusting and i will never do this again.

you are not cool, you are not better than anyone. and if you’re a child, please run. run as fast as you can from them, you’re bound to be taken advantage of like i have. they’re all sick in the head.

this post sums up very well how proshipping may affect real people, please give it a read.

once again, i apologize for all the horrible things i might have caused.

thank you for giving me a chance. like i said, my ask box is open if you want to voice frustrations, ask questions, and essentially, whatever you want.

love, angel.

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skittles-the-whumpee · 11 months

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MY CAUTIONARY TALE

I think it's about time I tell you all my story. These are real life events that happened to me years ago. I am not looking for sympathy nor do I want any. Most will see this as a black spot in my past but that's not how I see it...it's what shaped me to be what I am now. I was underage for the first portion, so I will gloss over the details and omit others. Please keep in mind that this was all pretransition and before I even knew that I was trans. I know some of the details are jumbled around from what I have told some folks, that's because I had to focus to get them all in the correct order, my memory isn't the greatest.

This is NOT a whump story or any kind of entertainment. It is a cautionary tale that needs to be heard.

TW: sexual themes (some forced), grooming, enforced captivity, beating, contractual service, willing minor (myself when I was young), severe Stockholm Syndrome, human trafficking.

When I had turned 17, I was...well...promiscuous. I know what you're all thinking and I don't frankly care, I don't need your approval nor your disgust, it's what made me happy and I enjoyed being a slut. Do I approve of sex with minors? Of fucking course not! Is that maybe a double standard since I was the minor in that situation? Probably, but it's what I did and I'm not ashamed of what I did in my youth.

Anyway, when I turned 17 in 2007, I started looking on kink sites for older guys who wanted to have some fun. Besides the usual time-wasters that still exist today, one man stood out. He was polite and understood that I wanted to explore the kinky side of sex, telling me that he was looking for a pet to serve him long-term. I agreed to meet up with him for a casual date to discuss everything, which went very well. We talked about my limits, how he would treat me, safewords, the works. I was so excited to begin, that I became blind to things that, in hindsight, were obvious red flags.

The first time I went to his house, he didn't pick me up in front of my sister's house (where I was living at the time), he told me to meet him three blocks away. I didn't think anything thing of it and since he was now my "sir", I blindly obeyed. Once in his car, he had me use both hands to hold onto his hand that he had in my lap as he drove also having me stare down at it for the entire hour drive. In case that's not obvious: my hands couldn't reach for the door without him knowing and I couldn't see where we were going. We got to his house and I began my training to be his fuckpet. It honestly wasn't bad, even in the moment, I actually enjoyed it. He was my Master and I was his boy.

This went on for months, I'd visit on weekends whenever I didn't want to go home (I attended a military boarding school that was just a couple-hour train ride from his home. I knew which station to get off at, but he had me follow the same protocol as before: eyes down, hands on his. I never thought about it being a red flag, it was what I was supposed to do and so I obeyed. My sister never thought to ask me where I was going on the weekends I didn't come home. Part of me thinks she didn't care, I was out of her and her husband's hair. Her husband didn't seem to care either, for that matter.

After about six months of being his loyal pet, I had to stop going as the school had somehow found out where I had been going and obviously didn't approve. I called Master and told him the terrible news and that I was devastated, he was not thrilled either but he calmed me down and got me to stop crying. I would not see my Master again for two years.

When I turned 18 the next year, I got expelled from the boarding school and with no job, my only choice was to enlist in the Army. I had been going to a JROTC-based school for three and a half years, that got me brownie points with my recruiter as I was a shoo-in. I did one year out of the three in my contract and got out with an Honorable Discharge. The details of my military service will not be discussed, do not ask.

When I got out, it was December of 2009. I had nowhere to go as I couldn't show my face around my brother-in-law, a die-hard former Marine, after not even completing my military contract, I'd never hear the end of it. So I went to a cafe with my laptop and did the same thing I did before, I went online to post on the kink sites, offering myself in exchange for a place to stay. I would have contacted Master...but I couldn't get a hold of him.

Enter, Master Travis, a lawyer in LA who was searching for a houseboy to serve him and his wife. I was to sign a contract that stated that, in exchange for a room, new clothes, and food I was to do all chores (including cooking) and let him and his spouse do anything they wish with me. Anything. I didn't want to be on the streets so I signed. I was then given three identical uniforms consisting of a black leather collar, a white long-sleeve button-down shirt with a rouched front and black buttons, black slacks with sizing straps as I was not allowed a belt, a black clip-on bow tie, black dress socks, and black dress shoes. When Master Travis didn't have any guests, I was to go barefoot.

At this point, I was 19 and fully legal for sexual use, which Master Travis and his wife took full advantage of quite regularly. My morning routine started with a caning, then a shower where he would fuck me, then I was to finish my shower and get ready for the day. Throughout the day, I would be summoned to please either one between chores. I didn't mind any of this. Even the caning was necessary as it was a form of maintenance discipline.

What I did mind, however, were the beatings Master Travis would give me whenever he was angry or had a bad day at the office. He would restrain my hands above my head and punch my torso until his stress or anger was relieved. It usually didn't take long and he always made sure that he only hit below my collar and never bruised my hands, hiding the damage beneath my uniform shirt from any guests that he may have over. He also made sure that he never broke anything besides minor fractures that healed with time.

I served Master Travis for two months before he and his wife decided to move out of state, unable to take me with them. He didn't want to fully release me so he asked me if I knew anyone that would enjoy having me like he did. I told him about my first Master and he told me to get a hold of him, no matter what it took. After two days of trying, I finally managed to contact Master. He was elated to hear from me but he wanted to talk to Master Travis. They discussed when and where to hand me over and I got my old clothes back.

Later that day, Master Travis brought me to the meeting point; a neighborhood I had never seen before. Upon arrival, Master Travis instructed me to take my things from his car and put them in Master's car, which I began doing. As I passed by them, I heard Master Travis telling Master about the training and skills he has given me, to which, Master responded by offering monetary compensation for me...he was offering to literally buy me. Master Travis declined and said "consider him a gift for your troubles". They shook hands and Master told me to get in his car, I obeyed. I was his boy again.

When we got to his home, he told me to leave my things in the garage and so I did. He then took me inside to give me a proper inspection. When he saw the bruises and my post-military physique, he wasn't happy. He said that I didn't have the young body that I used to have but he would make do. That didn't feel right...I thought he was happy to own me again, full-time this time, and he was...he was just disappointed that I didn't look like a minor anymore. He also treated me differently from before, he seemed like he didn't care about me like he used to, not caring if he hurt me during usual activities, often giving me a cold shoulder and disregarding my pained cries.

One day, he had been particularly cold towards me while he had me in his home office as a stress pet, and with being young and stupid, I tried doing something I had never done before: be defiant. He wanted me to pleasure him and I refused. This angered him to the point of throwing me to the floor and pinning me beneath him to have his way with me. I had hit my limit. I started screaming for help, for someone to call the police. Houses in Southern California are really close to each other, someone would hear me. He froze and went pale before getting off of me and giving me back my clothes. Then he had me tell him where he can drop me and my stuff off. I didn't have anywhere else to go.

I figured I had been through enough, I just wanted to go home so I told him to take me back to my sister's place. He did and I never heard from him or Master Travis ever again.

This all may seem unbelievable but I assure you it is all true. This is what happens when you're not careful and rush into things before you know a person. Don't let desperation and horniness get the better of you and you end up being abused and trafficked. I talk about wanting to go back to Master Travis but I need to make it clear to everyone who reads this that just because I want it for myself, it does not mean that I wish it on anyone else.

#human trafficking #my past #stockholm syndrome #true story #cautionary tale

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blackplaaague · 7 months

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Quick digital artist psa: export finished projects as both a jpeg and a png, and keep in mind which of your exports is which.

Failure to differentiate between the good quality file and the compressed one will result in you going "ah, the freaking crunchy Elizabeth jpeg" after zooming in. At least, it will if you're me.

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