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Hannibal Fanart! I love him so much. Murder husbands 4 eva <3 slight blood tw

Revenge never tasted so satisfying... ☀☁☁☁☁☁☁☁☁☁🍃🍃🍃🍃☁☁☁🍃🍃🍃🍃🍃🍃☁🍃🍃🍃🍃🍃🍃🍃🍃🍃🍃🍃🍃🍃🍃🍃🍃☁🍃🐝🍃🍃🍃🍃☁☁☁🍃🍃🍃🍃☁☁☁☁☁🍯🍯☁☁☁☁☁🍎🍯🍯☁☁☁☁💡🙇🍯🍯☁☁☁☁☁☁🍯🍯☁☁☁🌾🌾🌾🌾🌾🌾🌾🐣💡I got an idea!

Prompt for you (feel free to adjust this if you like)! Based on Princess Diana’s interview in 1995:

Marinette was interviewed by Lois Lane on live television about her past relationship with her former friends, bullying and harassment as well as abuse from her classmates. With Chloe, Marc, Nathaniel, Sabrina, Kagami and Luka as her only friends. Her mental health struggles including Marinette’s suicidal thoughts because Lila lied and falsely claimed about her, the toxic environment at her school and the reasons for her, Chloe, Marc, Nathaniel, and Sabrina to transfer to another school.

After the interview, it became number 1 trendy on Twitter and a national topic around the world. Bustier and Damocles were immediately fired from their jobs and had their license taken away, the class became pariahs from their peers in school and was excluded from any school activities and events. Their parents lost their jobs because of their kids' actions and nobody wants a bully parents to work for them. Lila and Alya were also sued by multiple celebrities for libel and defamation. Adrien was then stripped from his miraculous ring by Ladybug and his father sent him away to a very strict and harsh boarding school that his cousin Felix attended in London.

Hello! Thank you for the request!! I hope you like it, I tried to stay true to your original prompt, thank you again!!

TW: Swearing, Mentions of Past Abuse, Mentions of Violence, Bullying, Mentions of suicide, heavy angst

If you or someone you might know are struggling, please, please, PLEASE know that there are resources and people willing to help. It doesn't matter who you are, YOU ARE deserving of love and support!

There is a second message for this that was part two of the original request but I have no idea how to link the two.

~~~~

Marinette knew this was coming. She knew the second she decided to wear that dress to Fashion Week. She could feel everyone's eyes on the scars that ran up and down her body. She was covered in them, and almost all of them were inflicted by people she once considered friends. "This is a step towards healing," she remembered her therapist saying. "We may not like the past, but the more we try to run from it the faster it chases us," she remembered Luka humming as she ran her idea through him. "Your scars are not a sign of weakness," Kagami told her as they sparred, "A lion who has won many battles has many scars, and no one doubts its strength. Your scars are the mark of your strength." She took a deep breath and continued to walk forward. She could hear the paparazzi's cameras clicking as they took her picture. She would surely end up on the news, but Marinette decided, to let them talk. Let them talk about her scars and wonder where they came from, let them talk about who could have inflicted them on the designer. Let them talk until they finally decided to approach Marinette and ask. Despite her nerves telling her to curl up in a ball and hide, she kept her head high and walked down the red carpet like a queen walking to her throne. As soon as she was inside her phone buzzed, a message from Lois Lane. "Hi, honey. I saw the live feed from Fashion Week, are you going to be okay?" Marinette smiled as she read the message, Lois may be a reporter with a supernatural ability to detect a good story, but she was a mother first and was going to make sure her son's friend was alright. "I'll be okay. It was very scary because I knew everyone was staring," Marinette replied, she watched those little dots appear, and then Lois responded, "Do you want to talk about it? Off the record of course." It gave her a warm feeling to know that one of the greatest journalists was willing to let such a big story go to prioritize her comfort. She thought about it and replied, "Yeah, I would like to talk about it, but I'd like to talk about it on the record. Do you have some time in your schedule?" Lois's reply was almost instant, "Everything else can wait." Marinette typed out, "Perfect. I'll be in Metropolis in a week."

The first thing Marinette saw when she got off the plane was her friend Jon, followed by the airport's ceiling as she was quickly tackled into a hug. The two friends made small talk as she got her luggage and Jon decided to get her lunch. As they ate their conversation eventually turned to the reason for her trip. "Mari if you're uncomfortable at any time just say the word and mom will stop the interview. She's not like that one lady in Paris, she's not gonna push you into sharing anything you're uncomfortable with." Marinette sighed and picked at her food, "I know. That's why I want it to be Lois. She's the only one I can trust to let me tell my truth and not try to put some narrative on it or dig into more... private things," Jon nodded. His mother immediately figured out that Marinette was a hero. He remembered having to help his mom calm down the panicking girl and promising that if anyone could keep a secret identity a secret, it was Superman's wife. "If you don't mind, what made you decide to finally talk about all this?" Marinette's face contorted as she felt rage boiling in her stomach, "Damocles and Bustier still have their jobs," Jon gasped and Marinette continued, "It never would have gotten as bad if it did if they'd stepped in, but they refused! They refused to help me, and I bet they'll refuse to help others. I can't stand by and do nothing! I have proof of everything that was done to me, physical proof not just my word. I need to make sure they can't hurt anyone else," It felt so good to let out her anger without the fear of being akumatized for it. Taking a minute to calm down, Marinette continued, "I've also decided I'll be immigrating to Gotham. As much as I love my parents, I need to get out of Paris. So, this is also kind of one big last 'Fuck you' to the people who hurt me," Jon laughed, happy to see Marinette was still as feisty as ever. "Now what can I say to convince you to ditch Gotham and stay in Metropolis?" Marinette laughed, "Get my fiancé to move here, and then you've got a deal."

Lois really knew how to wrap the media around her finger and make a subconscious narrative, Marinette thought as she sat down on the porch of the Kent Family Farm. Mama and Papa Kent were more than happy to let Lois use it as a set for the interview, and when she asked Lois why the woman explained, "When people talk about something tough, or in our case hear you talk about something tough, they prefer to be in a safe environment. The farm has a very calming atmosphere, there's gentle background noise, and it's warm enough that we can be outside. Plus, it helps make you more sympathetic than an expensive set or a pricey hotel would. Most importantly, if it gets too overwhelming there are plenty of cute animals here to take your mind off things!" Marinette was a little concerned with just how well Lois understood how to paint a narrative but decided to roll with it. The two were in casual clothing as well, instead of the professional attire they were used to. Eventually, they were a couple minutes out from the camera feed going live, so Lois decided to give Marinette a rundown on how the process would work. "Ok honey, here's what's going to happen. I'll start off with an introduction explaining who you are and why we're here, and I'll ask you some basic small talk questions. After that, I'll ask about the scars, and it's your choice how much detail you wanna give. I'll base the rest of my questions off of what you tell me, so it will be like you and I just having a normal conversation. If at any time you need to stop, let me know and we'll cut the feed immediately. We've got a statement ready and everything, hell if you need me to I'll send the Super Boy Scouts to fetch Damian. Speaking of which you owe me an interview explaining how the hell you managed to charm that demon!" The two women laughed as they were told to take their places. The camera's light turned on, letting both women know they were now being broadcasted live to the entire world.

"Hello everyone! Thank you for joining us at such short notice. I'm Lois Lane and this gorgeous woman next to me is the marvelous designer Marinette Dupain-Cheng!" Marinette waved at the camera, trying to ignore the nerves in the pit of her stomach. "Mari started designing at only eight years old, and by the time she was fourteen, she had already started her own company and won multiple design competitions. She's one of those rare people with a special kind of spark. We first met when she attended a business conference that my son and his friend, her fiancé, by the way, happened to be at. I love this girl like a daughter, so Damian Wayne if you're listening, I'll kill you if you hurt her." Marinette laughed, she could practically hear the sound coming from Damian, a mix of indignation and shock that such a thing would ever be suggested. "I really could spend the whole interview just gushing about you Marinette, but then we'd have wasted your time and two plane tickets. As you know dear, the media has been speculating about you particularly intensely since Fashion Week. I'm not going to pull my punches, Mari," Lois said, the tone shifting to a more serious one as the older woman reached over to gently hold her hands, "What happened? Where did those scars come from?" Marinette took a deep breath; it was now or never. "For starters, they did NOT come from Chloe. Ever since she apologized and we worked on becoming friends, she has always been open and honest about how she bullied me in school. That stopped when I was fourteen and even at her worst she never physically hurt me. She's never denied what she did when we were young, and I want to make sure the message is clear." Lois nodded. The businesswoman had always been honest about how bitchy she was as a child, and as a result, created multiple organizations to deal with bullying. "I also want to be clear that these did NOT come from my parents. My Papa wouldn't hurt a fly and my Maman would only ever hurt someone who hurts her family." 'Smart move,' Lois thought. If she didn't clear it up, tabloids would certainly spread rumors that she was abused by her parents, and they didn't want that for Tom and Sabine.

"If I may, who did they come from? Or is it a bit more complicated than that?" "It's a bit more complicated. It was kind of like the perfect storm. I didn't realize it at the time, but my old school was a very toxic environment. My teacher was more concerned about preaching unconditional forgiveness and pushing problems under the rug. For example, I had paint poured on me right before our class photo, and instead of punishing the people who did it, she made me THANK them for "adding their creative touch" because I had designed my dress and obviously this was just them wanting to help." A screen behind them was showing the incident in question. Marinette managed to get the surveillance footage and audio of many examples of her bullying. Many of her tormentors had gone on to be successful, and if she didn't have proof she could be sued for defamation. "Chloe can back me up on this, but the principal wasn't much better. If you had money or power, he was at your beck and call. As a baker's daughter, I didn't have the resources a fashion heir, Mayor's daughter, and Diplomat's daughter did. So even in situations like the paint one, I was always in the wrong because if their children were in trouble, it would upset the money." Lois nodded, "It sounds like a lot of what happened to you was ignored. What about the school board?" "I tried to contact them, but they either never got my messages or ignored them. Either way, I had no adults I could trust, and anything I tried to make it stop only ended up backfiring." Marinette honestly had no idea why the school board never intervened. She called, emailed, and wrote letters, hell she was about to resort to telegraph.

"So, was it one person who bullied you, or was it, multiple people?" Lois asked. Her heart hurt for the young girl across from her. "It was everyone in my class except Chloe, Sabrina, and Nathaniel, my other friends, Kagami, Luka, and Marc weren't in my class. One girl led everything. Lila Rossi transferred to our class right before summer when I was thirteen. She was a liar, she claimed to know all these celebrities, go to all these countries, and do all these charities. Most of my class believed her right away, but I was always suspicious of her because I actually knew some of the people she lied about. I tried to call her out on it, and while a couple of my classmates like Nathaniel put the pieces together and realized she was full of bullshit, one classmate, Adrien Agreste, basically told me to shut up and take it. 'Take the high road,' he kept telling me even as he helped them shove me into lockers, shred my sketchbooks, and steal my stuff. He never physically hurt me, but he would cover for the others when they would. They would shove me down the stairs and I'd break an arm, and he would tell them that 'Typical clumsy Marinette tripped and feel.' They would cut me, cut my hair, and slice me with scissors," Marinette gestured to the many scars on her arm, "And he would tell any teachers that I was just not paying attention. They'd burn me with chemicals in the lab, and he would say I was goofing off. Thankfully Mrs. Mendeleev never believed that, and she had me come to her every time something happened so she could document it. It was all she could do with the principal being less than competent, and thanks to her I actually have a timeline of what happened and when," Marinette turned to face the camera, she had started crying a while ago but was still able to speak clearly, "Love ya, Mrs. M!"

"If you feel comfortable talking about it, how did their abuse, and let's be honest it was more like torture, affect you?" Marinette sighed and rubbed her wrists as she could feel herself sinking back into that feeling of dread she had dealt with each day. "I won't lie, it got to me, it really did. I struggled to sleep and was so scared to go to school that I'd get physically sick in the mornings. I completely shut myself off from the world for a while, it felt like I was on autopilot and just... doing what I had to do to survive." She took a couple of deep breaths and continued, "It didn't take long for me to believe what they were saying about me. My mental health was already screwed up thanks to Bustier, I had a martyr complex the size of Jupiter. I was taught to always be the peacemaker, always do things for others, and always take every burden. I would get in trouble if I asked for help or tried to decline to do something. I would get yelled at for asking to be paid back the thousands of dollars of costs I was taking on trying to please everyone else. So, when Lila, my classmates, and even Adrien began telling me that I was worthless, that they would be happier if I was gone, and that nobody would miss me if I died..." Marinette choked back a sob, but still tried to continue, "I spent many nights contemplating if I should take their advice and end it. I never did, primarily because I didn't want the people I loved to have to deal with the aftermath. Then, and to this day I don't know how she did it, but Lila got me blacklisted from Gabriel. She claimed to anyone who'd listen that I was an awful bully, I stole my designs, and that I only liked Adrien because I was a gold-digging whore. I had a crush on him at one time, but after what he did to me... He's dead to me. They all are. Anyways, it felt like my whole world shattered. I cried for days and stopped eating. Even though I've gotten better, I still struggle with my self-esteem. They told me I would never amount to anything, and I still struggle with trying not to believe them."

"How long were you in this awful situation?" Lois asked. She seriously considered signaling to the person controlling the TV that was set up behind them to cut the feed. Some of the injuries Marinette and Mrs. Mendeleev had taken photos of were truly awful, and the security camera feeds were tough to watch. But the world needed to know what had happened and needed to know that it wasn't okay. "I put up with it for two years, until I just... snapped. I couldn't take it anymore and broke down to my parents. I begged them not to send me there, I didn't care where they sent me to school, as long as it wasn't Dupont. I had kept so much from them because I was so scared they wouldn't believe me, that they'd be disappointed, that they'd tell me it was my fault," Marinette dabbed at her tears. Lois had told her to wear waterproof mascara and she was very grateful for it, "I never should have doubted them, Maman and Papa believed me, and had me switched to Luka and Kagami's school within the week. Marc, Chloe, Sabrina, and Nathaniel joined me shortly afterward. They told me that without the class punching bag infighting began, Lila apparently began a witch hunt of sorts. She began accusing anyone who even looked at her funny of bullying. They left before it could get much worse. It was a bit tough to adjust to my new school, I had my friends there, but I was still pretty quiet and kept to myself. My new classmates were so kind and patient with me, I think they understood that something really bad had happened to me. They never pushed me to tell them what happened, and while there were a couple of meaner students it was NOTHING compared to my old school. Because of them, and because I was in a healthier environment I was able to bounce back!"

Lois couldn't help the rush of pride she felt looking at the young woman. She remembered when she first met Marinette, who seemed rather shy and overwhelmed at that conference. She had offhandedly mentioned having to go get a dress for a press event and watching as a roaring fire was lit within Marinette's eyes. The girl had explained she was an aspiring fashion designer, and seemingly out of thin air she pulled out a sketchbook and pencil and began working. Lois swore the pencil was smoking with how fast the designer was working. She had been handed a sketch (and list of colors and materials) of the most beautiful dress she had seen. At said event, she was dubbed the best dressed and was quick to tell everyone she met about the talented teenager that had designed it. "One last question Mari, it's been a long day and I think you need TLC more than anyone right now. If you could face your tormenters today, what would you say to them?" Marinette took a deep breath and thought for a moment. "Well, I would like to say a few different things to a few people. To Lila, I want to say: I hope you're happy. You got everything you wanted and yet I'm still standing. I won't ask you why because I know why you did it: You could, plain and simple. To my classmates: I feel so sorry for you all, that you were so easily manipulated, that you were so quick to resort to violence on word of mouth alone. I feel sorry because you all were also victims of Mrs. Bustier, but in a different way than I was. You all were taught to expect someone to always carry the brunt of the load, and your bad behavior was encouraged. To Adrien: I know you're going to try and reach out to me and tell me to release a statement saying I made it up for attention. I can practically hear Nathalie typing it out now. I will not stand down, go ahead, and try to sue me, I have the evidence on my side. You were the only one who reached out to me after I changed schools, only to tell me to come back and that the problems the class had after I left were my fault. Leave me alone Adrien. I don't need you in my life and I don't want you in it. Stay the hell away from me." After she said this, a notification from Twitter pinged on everyone's phone. The tweet was from Damian Wayne and was quickly displayed on the screen behind the two women, 'On behalf of my Fiancée, legal action is being taken against her former tormenters, the people, and institutions that allowed this to happen and go on as long as it did. Don't bother harassing Marinette, this is completely out of her hands. If anyone decides to ignore her warnings or mine, a restraining order will be filed.'

The interview set off quite the explosion on the internet. May students of Dupont came out and confirmed Marinette's claims. It was trending for weeks and sparked international conversations about bullying. What shocked everyone was the severity of what Marinette endured, and it posed the question, "If she went through all that, who else could be going through similar things?" Suddenly the schoolboard had finally heard about what had happened to Marinette, and quickly fired Damocles and Bustier, primarily due to the public outrage that the two had flown under the radar. Investigations into their conduct revealed that Dupont did not just have a high akumatization rate, it also had a high suicide rate. Mrs. Mendeleev was revealed to have stayed primarily to try and help students escape such a bad environment and received a lot of praise. The school board finally released its statement, "We were greatly disturbed to hear of the abuse Mrs. Dupain-Cheng suffered at Collège Françoise Dupont and that educators under our employ did nothing to aid her. We were alarmed to hear that Mrs. Dupain-Cheng and her family tried to report her abuse and were unable to reach us. We are currently investigating this along with the many failures that led to Mrs. Dupain-Cheng's suffering. The two educators who were most responsible were let go and will no longer be in teaching positions. We sincerely apologize to Mrs. Dupain-Cheng and any others who have suffered due to oversights by the school board." The statement did not have the effect the school board had hoped for. The public largely found it unacceptable, and while they were happy Bustier and Damocles could no longer cause any damage, they were still infuriated and disturbed by the sheer ignorance (willful or not) of everything that went on within Dupont. An unexpected side effect of Marinette's interview was the scrutiny the parents of her bullies faced. People questioned how they could be so unaware of just what their children were doing and becoming, especially with Marinette making them so many things that obviously required time and money to make. Alya’s parents were criticized more harshly than the rest, primarily due to how many videos of the class's abuse were posted to the Ladyblog. The main question on everyone's mind was, 'How did this not get noticed sooner?'

Marinette's former classmates felt like their lives were imploding. They were served by the Wayne Lawyers, and it was made very clear to them that Damian Wayne was spearheading the fight against them, not Marinette. Adrien talked to his family lawyers about how they could get the suits dropped, and they told him, "Hell will freeze over before a Wayne backs down." Lila and Alya were hit with additional lawsuits from various others as well. Alya had posted Lila's many false claims about various celebrities on the Ladyblog, and their reputations had taken a hit. People began to wonder why so many famous people associated with Lila when all of her actions were revealed, and many PR teams had to work overtime to reassure the public that they had never met the girl in question. An investigation revealed that Lila had charged many of the class's shopping trips and expensive dinners to various celebrities' accounts, so she was also facing criminal charges as well. She had been effectively excommunicated from the class. After her lies came out and their actions were revealed they quickly cut contact. They were at a loss, their excuse for why they teased (They still refused to see it as anything more severe than light teasing) Marinette was because she was bullying Lila. Now that that was proven to be false, they searched for any reason to justify their actions. They can't really say that they were completely oblivious to Lila's lies, Marinette had tried to tell them multiple times and they had brushed her off thinking she was jealous that another girl was close to Adrien. Speaking of the blond, he had arranged a meeting at the Agreste Manor, and he looked like he hadn't slept since the interview. He wished he still had the Cat Miraculous, so he could escape this nightmare. He didn't want to admit it but the evidence of what he did and helped cover up was pretty damning, and it made the last words Ladybug had said to him the night she took his Miraculous all those years ago make sense, "Your actions as a civilian and in costume have proven that you are too irresponsible and immature to wield a Miraculous." He froze, Ladybug knew what he did. Ladybug, the love of his life, knew he helped make Marinette's life hell. His classmates looked at him as he was stuck in his mental turmoil, and they realized this was probably the first seriously negative press the Agreste Heir had ever gotten.

His image as Paris's Sunshine, a perfect gentleman who could do no wrong was ruined. All of their careers were, but they still held on to hope that they could save it. They didn't want to apologize, they didn't think they should have to, they were deceived by Lila after all. Adrien had hired a PR team to figure out what they should do, he had also asked privately what he should do. They had suggested a public apology and then disappearing from the public eye for a while. Thankfully his aunt and cousin agreed to let him stay with them, although he knew that Felix was never gonna let him live this down. His cousin called the second the interview finished and ripped into him. It had been incredibly hard for him to watch, and his classmates said the same. Seeing all those scars on Marinette, watching her breakdown, seeing the injuries he had helped cause, and watching the security footage of what they did... He had run to the bathroom and thrown up. Were they really that bad? Come to think of it, he remembered Marinette switching to long sleeves after they pushed her down the stairs and broke her... He was going to be sick again. His father was managing his own crisis, with his blacklisting of Marinette without solid evidence being put on blast. People were boycotting Gabriel, and it seemed like everything he did to try and fix the situation made it worse. He was brought back to the present by the cough of the man from the PR company. "Alright, now that I have everyone's attention, this is by far one of the most difficult cases I've seen in my career," Alya cut in, "We weren't that bad! Besides, it was so long ago, and I'd hardly call what we did bullying-" "Mrs. Césaire what you all did to Mrs. Dupain-Cheng is considered torture! Thank your lucky stars the statute of limitations is up, and you were children at the time, people have gone to prison for a long time for doing much less than what you all did!" To emphasize his point, he began playing the parts of the interview that showed the extent of Marinette's injuries. No one could bring themselves to look at the screen, a couple started to cry, and Adrien felt bile rise in his throat. The PR expert continued, "This goes far beyond simple bullying, you all are lucky Mrs. Dupain-Cheng did not make an attempt on her life. You are especially lucky that she said you were victims of Mrs. Bustier's utterly abysmal failings as an educator. But-" He cut Alya off before she could start,"-That does not mean you're completely Scott-free. You all still made the conscious choice to do what you did to Mrs. Dupain-Cheng, and that cannot be excused by being misled or having an enabler for a teacher. The best you can do is apologize and admit what you have done was wrong. You'll have to pray that Mrs. Dupain-Cheng decides to throw you a bone, and you WILL NOT contact her to try and force her to forgive you. That is absolutely the worst thing you can do because it will come off as if you haven't changed at all. The best thing you can do is apologize, admit you were in the wrong, and leave. Her. Alone. I will arrange an interview of our own so you can publicly apologize, a script will be written, and you'd better not deviate from it."

Nadja Chamack was the only journalist willing to interview them. It was decided that they would use the same format Marinette did and that Adrien would do most of the talking. After a brief introduction, their apology interview began. "What brings you all here today, especially after the shocking revelations that have come out," Nadja asked. She hated that she had to stick to a script, if she had it her way she would be asking the REAL questions, 'Why do you think Marinette is speaking about this now? Do you think she has something to gain? Isn't it a little fishy that she has the Wayne legal team suing you all and not her own? Do you think she's hiding something, or is she trying to get revenge?' Her producers stressed that she had to stick to the script because they would not hesitate to fire her if she began making such allegations. Adrien spoke, trying to keep himself composed, "We're here because we saw Marinette's interview, we saw how our actions hurt her, and we wanted to publicly apologize to her. We know what we did was wrong, and we were assholes. We wanted to explain our side, we know it won't fix anything or make things right, but we owe Marinette an explanation." He was doing exactly what his PR team told him to do, sounding sincere and referring to Marinette by her first name to establish a connection. Nadja nodded for him to continue, so he did, "When Lila came to school and began telling us about all the things she did and people she knew, it wasn't that hard to believe. I'm a model, Alya ran the Ladyblog, Rose knew Prince Ali, and Marinette had all these amazing connections. We weren't surprised that a diplomat's daughter knew all these people, and it wasn't exactly out of the norm for a class like ours. Somehow Marinette found out she was lying, and we refused to believe her." It was Alya's turn to speak, and the importance of staying on the script was highlighted to her, "Marinette had a massive crush on Adrien at the time, and she had gotten jealous of other girls before, so we figured this was just another one of those episodes. We also wanted to believe the best in Lila and give her the benefit of the doubt, it was what Mrs. Bustier had taught us."

Nadja couldn't help herself, she had to ask, "Adrien, when did you find out about Marinette's crush on you? How did you feel about it?" "I found out a few weeks before she transferred, and at the time I was shocked. It explained so much, about why she was so shy around me, why she was willing to listen to my awful advice. I was fully wrapped up in Lila's web then, and couldn't see past my massive crush on Ladybug so I tried to convince myself that she was a bully, and her crush was weird, but now? Now I wish I hadn't been such a coward. I wish I had seen that such an amazing girl was in front of me, if I could go back and do it differently I would. I would have stood up for her, I would have had her back for real. My biggest regret is that I didn't help her when she needed me and that I didn't reach out sooner to apologize and fix things. I lost the most amazing woman to Damian Wayne, and I’ll always regret that.” A small part of him hoped that Marinette still held a small flame for him and that he’d have a chance. He did some thinking and realized that Marinette was likely (he wasn’t 100% sure) Ladybug. If he could win her back, then he had a chance to convince his Lady to return his Miraculous, and that they were meant to be. Ladybug had no reason to be active, she defeated Hawkmoth and Mayura by herself, and had gone around the world gathering the remaining Miraculous. Part of his theory that the two were one and the same was that Marinette’s Fiancé and his family are in Gotham and are most likely providing funding for the Bat Family, and a new hero called Lady Miracle had been spotted patrolling with them, and she was reported to have multiple powers. These powers lined up with the Miraculous and her costume changed as she used them, so the two women were either one and the same or working together. Had Adrien developed these logical deduction skills earlier he would have recalled Marinette’s declaration that he was dead to her. Both the producer and PR rep were signaling to get back on the script or else their interview would be cut short. Nadja went on to the next question, “Okay, I can understand falling for someone whose life sounded similar to yours, but what I can’t understand is why you decided to pick on Marinette?”

Adrien took a deep breath, “Well Nadja, just like Marinette said in her interview with Mrs. Lane, it was a really complicated situation. What we believe now is that Marinette never bullied Lila, we know it was the other way around,” Rose cut in, going off script, “Mari didn’t have a mean bone in her body!” She sobbed into her hands, “I don’t know why we believed that, that witch over her.” “She told us what we wanted to hear,” Max sighed, “Lila promised us that she could introduce us to her important friends who could advance our careers and whether we consciously realized it or not we were willing to do almost anything to stay in her good graces.” Adrien shot them a look and continued, “My theory is that Lila gave Marinette an ultimatum, play along or she’d make Mari’s life hell. Not long after Lila began modeling for my father’s company, she began claiming Marinette was doing various things like stealing answer sheets, stealing from her, and pushing her down the stairs. Marinette was expelled without an investigation, and because we were kids, we trusted that the adults in charge were following procedures. She was reinstated, and Lila began claiming Marinette was tormenting her again. Like Max said, we were worried that if Lila didn’t believe we supported her then she would refuse to help us, but it mostly comes down to the fact that Lila lied well, and we were scared. She would claim Marinette beat her up after school and would come into school the next day with bruises. We suspect now that she was using makeup. Lila never outright said to hurt Marinette, but she was great at implying it. She said that she wished Marinette knew what the hurt she caused felt like and that If it happened to Marinette, she might quit being a bully. I think it was a case of falling into groupthink and fear. Everyone else around us seemed to believe Lila so fully, and anyone who didn’t was outcasted and treated terribly. We were afraid to challenge her, afraid to challenge the group, and we genuinely didn’t realize just how far we had escalated. I swear we never intended to hurt Marinette so badly, we sort of mindlessly followed along with what Lila suggested. When she and a couple of our other classmates transferred, Lila’s control snapped, and it was like waking up from a bad dream. She began to see her control slipping and began accusing others of doing the same things she accused Marinette of doing. It got to the point where she accused all of us of bullying her, and we realized she was full of shit. We realized what kind of person she was, and what we had become and decided to go our separate ways.” Nadja frowned. They had literally been spotted hanging out with Lila the week before Marinette was at Fashion Week and this whole thing began. If they had known Lila was a lying sociopath back in school, why the hell were they still hanging out with her? What about Marinette’s evidence? She had phone calls from Adrien demanding she returns to fix Lila’s mess, and evidence that he had known the whole time that Lila was lying. She may not be at Lois Lane’s level of reporting, but she could smell bullshit when it was in front of her, and judging by the look on her producer’s face, he’d caught on as well. Their PR agent nodded along, which told her that this was the narrative they created. They weren’t telling the truth, at least not the full truth, they were trying to slip out of trouble like they always did. Nadja remembered Marinette’s drastic change when she came to babysit Manon and listening to what these young adults were trying to spin confirmed that her earlier questions about Marinette’s interview were unfounded. Then she saw it: The signal from her producer, she could go off the script!

“Now Adrien,” She started in a tone she usually saved for when Manon was being challenging, “I’m not sure we were watching the same interview. I clearly remember some evidence Marinette presented showing that you all had fun tormenting her. I also remember that she had recordings of you demanding she comes back and fixes Lila’s mess. You called her a punching bag and said that the class needed its punching bag back otherwise they would begin ‘taking things out on each other.’ That’s not exactly what you’re telling me here. You all were spotting spending time with Lila before fashion week, and you seemed to be thick as thieves with her. So let me ask you this: Why are you lying to me?”

Adrien looked like a deer caught in the headlights, and so did his PR agent. They hadn’t expected Nadja to question their story, “I… We might have remembered some events differently. Most importantly, we want Marinette to know how sorry we are for everything that happened and what we did. We know that what Mrs. Bustier taught us is wrong, we are not owed her forgiveness, but we hope that she can find it in her heart to forgive us. Hopefully, we can work on rebuilding our friendship, but we understand that wounds like the ones we caused take time to heal. Mari, when you’re ready, please reach out to us. We’d love to apologize in person as well.” Nadja rolled her eyes. Looking at this bunch, it was obvious the sincerity wasn’t there. They acted like children getting caught sneaking an extra cookie when Nadja brought up Marinette’s evidence proving they weren’t as remorseful as they claimed to be. The fact that they only recently cut off Lila proved that they were lying and had planned to use her as a scapegoat. Nadja decided to make one last attack, “When she’s ready? She made it very clear she wanted nothing to do with you all. Why do you all think she owes you her attention and friendship after everything you did? You hurt her, yet here you all are acting like you’re the injured party!” “We are the injured party! Marinette’s little pity party ‘poor me’ attention whore act cost us our careers! She’s being overdramatic like she always is and now WE’RE suffering because she couldn’t take a little teasing,” Alya yelled with her classmates voicing their agreement. Everyone in the studio froze. The PR representative was shaking his head, while everyone else was in shock. The former Dupont students realized their mistake and quickly tried to backtrack only to be cut off by Nadja, “We are done. I will not let you use my coworkers or me to harass that girl anymore! You clearly cannot see the error of your ways and blame her for the misfortune you brought on yourselves. I may not be at Lois Lane’s level of journalism, but I am not a fool, and I will not be a puppet for you to spread your pitiful self-gratifying apology. Let’s be honest, you all clearly don’t care about the hurt you caused Marinette, you just care about the damage the truth did to your reputations. Get out of my studio! Get out of this building!” And with that, the interview was cut.

Their interview was trending, but it wasn’t for the reasons they had hoped. If they had done anything, it was throwing gas onto the fire. People almost couldn’t believe how heartless and totally unaware they were, that was clear from the various social media posts. “WOW. You guys are making grey sweatshirt Influencer apology videos look more sincere.” “Ew. Just. Ew. I used to like Adrien Agreste but now? No way. Watch out Damian Wayne he’s coming to steal his punching bag back.” “Teasing? Teasing doesn’t leave MULTIPLE SCARS.” “That was so self-serving. I gotta admit I feel terrible for whoever they hired for PR. Talk about letting the true colors out.” “I gotta give Nadja Chamack some credit! I was not expecting that level of journalism and take-no-bullshit out of her!” Twitter was having a field day with the live interview, and the statement released by Marinette’s former tormenters apologizing for their behavior during the interview and to Marinette didn’t fair much better. It was safe to say they had lost whatever little goodwill they had with the public. Lila had taken a slightly different approach. She did her own interview claiming that she never wanted Marinette to be hurt physically and that it was their former classmates that took things way too far. She cried that she was so, so sorry and that all she had wanted was to impress her classmates who had much more exciting lives than she did. Lila revealed that she had a crush on Adrien as well and was jealous of Marinette whom she saw as a threat. She explained that she spread rumors about Marinette hoping that Adrien would believe them and think Marinette was a bully, but their classmates took it too far. Lila claimed that she wanted to reveal that she’d made it all up, but she was scared that their classmates would turn on her and hurt her. She expressed shock that her friends would throw her under the bus for their wrongdoings and had her own apology for Marinette. Her interview was met with a bit more sympathy until someone (We all know it was Tim) released the recordings of Lila threatening Marinette and expressing to her victim the delight she took in watching Marinette being hurt by their classmates. Suddenly Lila’s image of the ‘Girl who made a few bad choices trying to impress her classmates and crush’ was shattered, and on top of all the lawsuits her public lies on the Ladyblog brought her, she was shunned as well. Gabriel, trying to cut his losses, fired Lila, and released a statement claiming that she was the one giving him false information on Marinette. However, Lila was determined to go down fighting and revealed her ace: Gabriel Agreste was Hawkmoth, and his assistant was Mayura. She had somehow collected evidence linking him to it while she worked for him as a model and as an Akuma provider.

The outrage was gigantic, with Ladybug having to return to explain that she had tried to go to the police, but they had not believed her or the proof she had. Ladybug had hung onto that proof, such as the gigantic map she had of where all the Akumatizations happened, and where the purified butterflies returned to. The French Federal Government decided to investigate how the Parisian Government had handled Hawkmoth, and they also decided to investigate Ladybug. They had found a young woman (whose identity they kept anonymous) who had been forced into the role by chance but had thankfully turned out to be incredibly competent. They found that she had worked within the law and had tried on multiple occasions to work with the police, but they had rejected her. Once she had discovered who Hawkmoth was she went to them, only to get laughed out of the police station. Why she wasn’t believed was something that was still unknown to the Investigators, but they had found Ladybug to be a superb hero. She was cleared, and given full permission to operate in France, should she ever choose to return. Chat Noir did not fare as well and was thoroughly raked over the coals by the report that was released. He had started out alright, but as time went on he quickly began to act out. He prioritized flirting and trying to win Ladybug’s affection and would refuse to help or even show up when she didn’t humor him. The report also revealed that he had been harassing civilians, such as one Marinette Dupain-Cheng. The designer had to explain that she had met Chat during an Akuma attack, and they’d become friends before his behavior worsened. Then after that, he’d harassed her on behalf of his other friend, Adrien Agreste. Twitter was on fire after this revelation, and #GiveMariABreak was trending.

No one knew who leaked Chat Noir’s identity, but theories were abundant. Some believed one of the investigators had loved ones who had suffered from Akuma attacks and Chat Noir’s behavior, and another group thought that the Waynes were behind it. They said that the Waynes were so enraged by the treatment their youngest’s fiancée had received at the hands of people who would have otherwise escaped punishment, that they decided to completely destroy her former tormentors. Considering Damian brought out the Wayne legal team, and Tim leaked the Lila Files, it was definitely possible that both theories could be true. What everyone did know, is that this outrage would go down in history. Adrien was still catching a lot of heat from the horrendous interview, which certainly did not help his case. It was quickly cleared up that he had no idea his father was Hawkmoth, and while officially on the report it said there was no evidence that he’d helped his father, the public speculation could not be stopped. In the chaos, photos were released of Ladybug landing on Marinette’s balcony and entering her room. These were brushed off as nothing surprising, surely the two women that were constantly harassed by the same man (even if they didn’t realize it) would find each other and start a support group. Adrien made a public plea for Ladybug to back him up and explain that he was a good hero, but it would seem that the Heroine of Paris had disappeared into hiding. It was clear that she had turned her back on him, just like he had turned on her all those years ago. He narrowly escaped getting charged along with Gabriel and Nathalie, but that didn’t stop the barrage of civil lawsuits he got hit with. The year ended with many trials, and the Wayne legal team proved why they were not to be messed with. Shortly after, a documentary was announced, to permanently document the fall of so many powerful people.

The documentary was a hit and contained all of the interviews that had taken place in the saga. The documentary was released at a party hosted by Bruce Wayne to celebrate his new Daughter-in-Law’s success, and it was met with rave reviews. But where was Marinette during the outcome of her interview? The designer had decided to step back from the spotlight until the mess had been resolved and hadn’t been seen in public since the initial interview. She was currently standing in the Wayne Manor with her husband, preparing to walk into the ballroom for her first public appearance as a Wayne. She was nervous. What if people began claiming that she’d only done this to take down a business rival? What if people accused her of making all of it up? She was brought back to reality by her husband, who pulled her into his arms. Damian gently kissed her forehead and whispered, “What’s bothering you, My Love?” Marinette had told him what had happened to her a year after the two became friends, and her bullies were lucky Bruce stopped him from going on a rampage. When he was watching his Darling’s interview with Lois at the Manor with the rest of his family, he could feel that fury reignite. It was also the first time his family learned about the abuse Marinette had endured (and suddenly his protectiveness made sense), so when he asked his father for the contacts for the Wayne legal team, Bruce had happily given them to him. Marinette took a deep breath, “I guess I’m just nervous, this is my first time being in public since everything came out and…” “And you’re worried that you’ll be walking into a den of lions.” Mari nodded, still amazed that he always seemed to know exactly what was wrong.Damian took a small step back and brushed a strand of hair out of her face, “My Jewel, you’ll be fine, I promise. The world believed you when you told them, you had strong evidence to support you, it’s illogical for them to turn on you now. Besides,” He gently poked her cheek, “Lila exposed Gabriel Agreste as Hawkmoth in a last-ditch effort to save herself. Think about it this way,” he gently twirled her around, admiring as the crystals she had hand sown into the stunning train on her dress sparkled. It was a tradition for every new member of the Wayne Family to debut in an all-black outfit, and Marinette had designed the most stunning dress in the Family’s history. “We attend the party, which is your debut as my gorgeous wife and I want to brag, and afterward we can go home, order some takeout, and binge-watch whatever you want on the couch with the Kwamii and the cats.” Damian would gladly and proudly admit that his wife brought out a side in him that he didn’t know he had, and Marinette was the only person he was regularly affectionate with. She was his star, and he wanted everyone to know how amazing she was. Marinette laughed, “Well I suppose we could do that; you drive quite the hard bargain Mr. Wayne.” The couple laughed, and all of Marinette’s worries evaporated as they entered the ballroom.

The young couple was met with hushed awe as they walked in, the wind from the open balcony doors catching parts of Marinette’s train. She looked ethereal in her gown, a stunning black dress with a long train that sparkled like stars in the void. The dress was form-fitting, with a galaxy of crystals wrapping around her body, coming to frame the neckline of her dress. It was an off-the-shoulder gown with a low V-neck. Marinette’s hair was done in an elegant bun, and the only jewelry she wore was her Miraculous, disguised as a pair of diamond earrings. The only other color she wore was blood-red lipstick. She looked like a goddess, elegant and regal, and held herself as if she was one. Despite the scars that littered her body, she stood proud, they were a part of her and would always be. The crowd began to murmur as the two youngest Waynes joined the rest of their family, “Is that Marinette? She looks spectacular!” “I heard she based parts of her dress off Princess Diana's Revenge Dress.” “I definitely believe that! She certainly looks like royalty!” “I’m surprised she’s showing her scars.” “Why wouldn’t she? The world should know what happened to her, and there’s no shame in being a survivor.” Kagami was right, no one doubts a victor’s scars. Cameras flashed, capturing her image from every angle as she talked with her parents and in-laws, and soon she was quickly whisked away by Damian to dance and mingle. She had to fight back a laugh, he loved letting everyone know that he had married this fantastic woman, despite the fact that the two bickered like cats and dogs when they were younger. He also knew that her old classmates were watching from their homes and wanted them to see the phoenix that had risen from the ashes. Damian wanted to drive the point home that while they had attempted to break Marinette, she was stronger. As the two danced and talked, the media had already begun crafting tomorrow’s newspapers. By the time the two had said their goodbyes and left the party for the night, the first article was out. ‘The Revenge Dress has a Successor: Marinette Wayne’s Revenge Look.’

So for the past year I have taken to drawing on myself with sharpies, pens, ect.

TW. for sh

I found it very therapeutic to do as it helped eith my self h* arming.

My therapist like that I was doing this and found it cool

My parent not so much. I would consistently get in trouble or even yelled at for drawing on my forearm and hand, as they seemed to think this was horrible, and that I shouldn't draw on myself cuz it was imature/inappropriate(idk).

Essentially, I would get yelled at for using a coping mechanism when it was in my benefit for my mental health.

Now everytime I draw even the smallest thing on me, I get scolded saying I must wash it of and I need to stop, almost in a disgusted tone.

Chapter three of the DM!memoirs AU

Slight trigger warning emotional stuff and talk of funeral/burial.

Moomin and Hodgkins went back to the boat as fast as they could, it was a silent speed walk all the way back til they finally got on the boat.

“I’m going to go check and see if Joxter is back on the boat yet-“ said the Moomin, breaking the silence.

“Mhm.” Said hodgkins before going back to the pilot house opening the door and seeing joxter there

“hes over here.” said hodgkins from the pilot house across the boat to moomin, moomin gave a nod and went over to the two over in the pilot house joxter rubbed his eyes just waking up from his nap.

“Oh, you two are back. So did you get the answer we needed?”

Hodgkins nodded yes.

“Fancy that, I found a place that would be nice for the burial...” said the Joxter.

The Moomin then asked “So are we going to do the burial now or tomorrow?”

“First thing in the morning.” said Hodgkins “The longer we wait the worse it’ll be...” he added, he didn't elaborate but it was pretty obvious he meant the body was going to turn rotten eventually and start stinking up the boat, a very vivid and gross smell he didn’t wish to smell ever again, nor did he want to see the decomposition of the corpse of his nephew aswell.

“Makes enough sense...” said Moomin “And who should dig the hole?”

Joxter put his paws in his pockets and replied “I could do it. After all, I was the one who found the spot.”

“We dig it out now. And I'm coming with. I want to make sure it’s as nice a spot as you say.” Said Hodgkins before going into the chest in the pilot house to dig around for a lantern or two since it was getting dark out by now.

The Joxter's brow furrowed in an irritated fashion when Hodgkins said 'to make sure it’s as nice a spot as you say', he felt particularly hurt by his choice of words. Does he not trust my judgment or what?! thought the Joxter.

“Why now?” Asked the Moomin.

“So we don’t waste time doing it in the morning.” said Hodgkins before pulling out two lanterns and passing one to the Joxter.

“Oh, alright- what about shovels? Do we have shovels on board?”

Hodgkins thought for a moment before sighing disappointedly and shaking his head.

Moomin then lifted his finger as he had an idea “Perhaps we can have dinner first and then afterwards walk back to the hut that young mymble is living in, maybe we can ask her if she has a shovel...? And possibly apologize for your outburst earlier-“

“Outburst...?” Asked Joxter.

“Nevermind that-“ replied the Moomin, wanting to get to the point “Good idea or not?”

“Not hungry. But we can wait until people start returning home from the king's party.”

“Alright, then it’s settled!” said the Moomin trying to be cheerful about the fact that they had most of this sorted out.

They soon after borrowed the shovels they needed and started digging in Joxter's spot, Moomin had the idea of finding a big rock they could use as a headstone for the burial, he wandered off half way through digging to find said rock, leaving Joxter and Hodgkins to silently dig together.

“Hodgkins?” asked Joxter to break the silence.

“What?” answered Hodgkins.

“... can I take a break?”

“Of course you ask to take a break. You can’t just finish a task without bothering someone or taking a break in the process, now can you?” Hodgkins said with animosity in his voice.

“No, I guess I can’t.” replied the Joxter as he stabbed his shovel into the ground and then sat down next to the hole.

Moomin somehow managed to role a big boulder to the burial sight and place it at one end of the hole, “We can paint his name and information on it-“

“Anything but paint.” Hodgkins cut him off coldly.

Moomin thought for a moment before realizing “Oh- oh goodness I’m so sorry!“

“Yes, how awfully ironic it would be.” commented the Joxter

The next morning was bright. Joxter, Hodgkins and Moomin brought Muddler's body to the grave they dug, Muddler was carried with care by Hodgkins and it was obvious Hodgkins and Joxter were both holding in tears they best they could. Joxter had a few handfuls of Muddler's buttons in his pockets because he planned on scattering them over his resting place after the burial, when they got to the grave and Hodgkins gently placed muddler in, the waterworks started to flow.

Hodgkins stepped back and so did Joxter, there was a moment of silence before Moomin unfolded a piece of paper he had in the palm of his paw, he looked it over before he started speaking:

“I have a few words to share... I may not have known the Muddler for that long but he was an interesting fellow. I wish I had the time to get to know him more and even though he’s gone, he will live on in the memories of those who cared about him.” There was a moment of silence before Joxter took off his hat out of respect and began to add on his own word of rememberance.

“Thank you Moomin. I of course have some words to say aswell, I didn’t write any of it down but... speaking from the heart... Muddler, I don’t know what death entails... where you or your soul may be right now, but you were... everything to me... and you still are. Even if you're 'gone', I’ll keep my promise to protect your things that were so important to you, and I’ll always cherish the memories you made with me, from the day you convinced Hodgkins to take me in to now, you’ll never be out of my mind, I swear by it...” he then scattered some of the buttons he had in his pockets down into Muddler's grave before taking a step back and covering his face with his hat to try and hide his ugly crying.

“... as everyone here knows, I’m not good with words... I’m not good with sappy things of any sort... But Muddler, my dear nephew, I hope you've been reunited with your parents... I hope this is a good enough resting place for you... and I hope... I hope you can forgive me for not being a better parent...” Hodgkins said and cleared his throat and choked back tears, and with those last words the funeral was done. Muddler's grave was burried and life for the rest of the crew went on.

Some time went by, Joxter ended up meeting and interacting with a large and jolly Mymble a few times and they quickly got along, perhaps romantically even, but Joxter didn’t push that part of there relationship too much. A few flings here and there with her sure but he was still stuck on losing Muddler. He wasn’t one to move on so quickly. He occupied his time with the Mymble's company and when he wasn't with her he was taking care of Muddler's can. He had taken it to a spot in the forest that was secure, a spot that became his sort of 'home' when he wasn’t wandering or getting along with Mymble.

Hodgkins shut himself out from both Moomin and Joxter shortly after Muddler's funeral. He kept to himself and applied to be the king's royal inventor and naturally he got the job for his great skill, he kept himself always busy to occupy his thoughts, hoping to push away all the negativity of grief and all desires of being close to anyone ever again, for his own sake.

Moomin ended up living on the Oshun Oxtra trying to think of what to do now that the crew was no longer together, he pondered the idea of going on adventures by himself, but what is the joy of adventure with no one to share it with? "Or should I get straight to writing my memoirs? But what sort of sad short memoir would it be if he never truly went on a great rounded adventure? Some thing feels missing..." he pondered the posibilities for days and weeks as he tried to write something or come up with what he should do until he met a lady moomin, a Miss Moomin to be exact, who he saved in an awful storm and they promptly fell in love. They lived on the ship together as they discussed their plans for there future together, they decided to get jobs in the kingdom to earn enough to travel together and perhaps go to London.

Things were going well for Moomin.

Things were going adequately for Hodgkins.

... And the Joxter felt out of place.

Little did he know that things were about to take a great turn for him.

(End of chapter three!- sorry if this chapter sucks i sort of rushed it, I was trying to end the super sad bits. but I promise after this chapter there will be bits of sad and angst but not as much as the past chapters, the next ones will mostly focus on the after affects such as how the butterfly affect of muddler passing changes how things would have originally been.) (special thanks to @flowerbloom-arts for helping me edit this thing properly

(Illustrations and non-triggering re-cap coming soon.)

(Sorry for the water Mark a few sights have been messing with my art recently so hopefully this helps) any ways this is the confounder! @flowerbloom-arts oc that’s supposed to be muddlers mom! She died by a sword through the head so here’s her as a ghost and stuff

👉👈

So… about my post from earlier- yes I already wrote a fan fic for Jake and frenchie because I absolutely love these two- (possible trigger warning: drinking?) this is just… hurt comfort angst mostly but with a lovely soft ending.

Fic name: drunken confession.

It was a cool February afternoon, Jake was at front, fully alone at this point. While Marc and Steven where oddly dormant. Jake had nothing to do. Not a single request from khonsu it wasn’t like he was close enough with Layla to hangout with her but even if he was she was out on a mission herself a solo one. And strangely enough the feeling of being alone was bugging him it was strange for him to have both Marc and Steven be completely dormant even just for a day or two. He was considering bugging frenchie. He lingered over frenchies contact anxious to text him. Though Jake had his own “spot” in this “shared life” with Marc and Steven it was still… strained he didn’t know how or where to leave off with friendships and if what he deemed friendships where actually friendships.

The only one he was sure of as his friend was frenchie. It was a odd sort of strained friendship for sure on and off communication for years. Yet every time they did talk it was like nothing had changed. Like they didn’t just randomly stop talking for a while. It was like naturally setting clock work with these two they some how felt so readily comfortable chatting. It was some thing jake didn’t feel often with others and at times in his solitude in the back of the mind space he would linger his thoughts about frenchie he wondered if he thought to much about his “friend. But I digress. As Jake thought out these things it was like some sort of force read his mind and sent him a sign since he was to frozen to text frenchie himself

A message from frenchie.

“Hey- are you free today?”

“depends on who you need.” Replied jake

“Well I’m hoping for Jake but I’m guessing this is Marc right now?”

“Jake speaking currently. No idea where the other two have faded off to.”

“That’s oddly perfect” Jake saw that and raised an eye brows.

“What’s that mean by that?” He answered back

“It means Do you want to grab a drink with me? We haven’t hung out in a while I mean we have but just not the two of us alone is all.”

Jake found himself baffled. Yet smiling like an idiot as he saw the text.

“Sure, what bar?”

Frenchie sent the address and said he would be waiting- Jake got into some casual clothes. Slicking back his hair a bit with his fingers and a tiny bit of hair gel before putting on his hat.

When he got to the bar he entered and looked around for frenchie, he was at small booth seat section alone instead of at a bar stool near the counter like they usually sat at jake noticed this little change and thought it was odd, frenchie saw him as well and locked eyes with him and waved him over “over here mon ami!” He said with a smile jake went over to the table and frenchie stood up to give him a little side hug before sitting back down

“Long time no see my favorite friend-“

“Wow you pick favorites?” Jake chuckled “any ways wow I’m surprised you picked a booth this time, what’s with that?” He asked casually with a smile

“Just wanted a change of pace I guess.” Replied frenchie

“Every things been changing recently huh?” Mumbled jake

“It has- but change can be a good thing, no? At least it seems to be good in your case right?”

A waiter then came up and took there drink orders they ordered some basic rounds of beers before they went back to talking

“I mean it is pretty good mostly since I get to talk to you again.”

“Aw you flatter me mon ami,” frenchie smirked “so catch me up on your perspective. What’s new for you?”

“What’s new? Well damn a lot- don’t tell Marc and Steven I told you this but there both dating each other now- some how? There constantly pinning over each other- it’s kinda gross to be honest-“

“Hah! I had a clue that was the case.”

“Observant as always, Jean.”

“But why do you call it gross?”

“Because I have to deal with seeing them be all lovey dovey with each other- it makes it so awkward since we all share a body- let’s say they let me front- meanwhile there in the back of the head making out or being sickeningly sweet together.”

“How about Layla? You talk to her much? I know the other two are in a shared relationship, no?”

“Si they are, but I don’t see Layla that way. Don’t think I ever will to be honest. It always feels like I’m an unwanted guest with those three. Though good for them for what they have- hey enough questions about me- how’s your quest to find a boyfriend been going?”

“Uhg I gave up months ago- turns out being an amputy is a turn off to most. And the ones who aren’t turned off end up being creeps.”

“Well there missing out on you as a person- and more importantly missing out on the chances at getting free plane rides for life.” *the thing about free air plane rides was a joke but the first bit was sincere*

They received there drinks and thanked the waiter,

Jake started to drink his as frenchie continued the conversation “I guess your right. It just I’ll be honest the loneliness is some thing unbearable.”

“You’d be surprised but I get it.”

Frenchie raised an eye brow as he raised his glass about to take a sip “but your never alone at least most of the time.”

“There’s loneliness in reality having no one to stand by you then there’s loneliness in feeling outcasted.”

“Ah… wise words so very unlike you.” He seemed to tease and jake rolled his eyes playfully

“Yea well with no one to talk to for a few years it leaves me to think a lot.”

*frenchie took a long swig of his drink* “Uhg enough talk about loneliness and solitude- we have each other’s company! That’s what matters right now to me.”

“Now that I can get with. You see you have Even wiser words then what I said before.”

“I guess drunk words are the wisest-“

“Drunk? but this is your first drink- you really becoming a lightweight on me?”

“Light weight? In your dreams! I pre-gamed before You got here-“

“Wow what a shock.”

“Nothing to crazy just a martini or two- they had this really interesting pomegranate one I’ve been dying to try.”

“Really? That sounds interesting.”

“Yea but I didn’t want to be an embarrassment to you is all- you know me drinking a “prissy” drink in front of you-“

“Prissy drink? Really? That’s some thing only Marc would get embarrassed about-you know that, actually hold on watch-“ *he waved over a weighter after he finished off his first pint of beer once the waiter was called over he ordered one of those drinks frenchie mentioned and frenchie for himself another pint.

“Wow what a gentleman proving a point by getting a “girly drink” if only I could find a man like you-“ frenchie joked- (but in all honesty he was being serious ooP)

Jakes cheeks where nipped red and it could have been a mix of the alcohol or the way frenchie teased him.

“Trust me you wouldn’t want a guy like me”

“Why wouldn’t I? You have an amazing jawline- you can drive- hmmm what else- your a good listener and we have great chemistry-“

“Says the guy who’s 10 times cooler then me you fly planes and shit.”

“Cooler? I take that as an insult you know! If any thing I’m HOTTER then you-“

“Wow tooting your own horn there huh?” They were joking back and forth, Loki flirting as they moved on to other little topics.

“You know what- I gotta ask Jake-“

“Hm? Waht is it?” *he muttered as he finished off his third drink*

“Steven and Marc those two- there… what’s the word- not gay- gay and straight- what’s the English words again…” (when frenchie was tipsy he would often let certain English words slip his vocabulary)

“Bisexual?”

“Yea yea that right? I never thought Marc would be you know-“ 💅🏻 he did the hand motion)

“Yea same never thought that- I mean I thought Steven was just gay like- actually gay for a while until he showed interest in Layla-“

“Hey hey off topic listen… hhhh… uh… what was I saying again.?”

The two laughed a bit like idiots

“How… how about yourself jake?”

“What what about me?”

“Are you… straight gay thing too? like Marc and the British one?” *he rested his head on the palm of his hand

Jake went silent and his face was redder then before he lowered his gaze, not sure how to answer.

He sort of froze for a second and frenchie noticed the tension for a moment- then Jake chuckled

“not sure… I've never been able to explore the possibilities, you know?”

“Well is there any one you ever thought was hot?”

“…. One person.” Jake said stoically but on the inside he was over thinking “shit am I bisexual? Or just gay? Or… can Jean Paul see more about me then I do about my self“

“Oh? Who’s that person?? I just gotta know-“

“I won’t be sharing that.”

“Oh come on~ at least give me a hint!~ is it some one you know?”

“Si”

“Is it a guy or girl?”

“… guy-“

“OOH- ok ok hmmm… we’ll To be honest jake you don’t know a lot of people…and I doubt it’s the others residing in your head…sooo… is it meee~”

Jakes eyes went wide and he tipped his hat down over his face a bit- “In your dreams-“ *he chuckled trying to seem calm but he was clenching his teeth a bit.

“You know I can see through you Jake~ if you wanna make out just say so~” this was a joke of course- frenchie was just teasing a bit.

“For fucks sake can you not?” *jake snapped a bit and taking off his hat and clenching it before knawing on the brim a bit angstily

“Aww no need to be shy, if you wanna hook up say the word I wouldn’t mind, especially with a hunk such as yourself-“ frenchie misunderstood jakes reaction as simply a flustered one

“Jean- I mean it- stop it.” *jake said between knaws on his hat his eyes filled with tears he was overhwkened and frenchie though Loki shit face drunk had a sort of “oh shit I fucked up” moment

“Jake- I-…shit I didn’t mean to make you upset I was just joking! I was just- just teasing you know? I know bad timing I shouldn’t have-“ he tried to seem calm and smiled awkwardly trying I make the situation better

“Out of all the people… Can you not fucking make fun of me? I thought I could confide in you- fuck…”

“Jake- you can confide in me I didn’t mean- I didn’t mean to make you upset really.”

“I just don’t get any of it- I’m trying so fucking hard trying I get it I’m a dumbass for even- for… having these thoughts… it wouldn’t even work- god what am I… people are staring I can tell people are staring and it’s all your fucking fault-“ he said through clenched teeth and jaw

Frenchie went silent as Jake layed his head on the table trying to ground himself frenchie stopped drinking and focused on what he wanted to say through his drunken haze jake was over thinking every thing and he was mumbling a lot- “I’m obvious I’m so fucking obvious- he thinks it’s funny- I’m a fool- why did I even humor the conversation- I couldn’t do this even though I want to- I can’t- fuck how would the others react? They wouldn’t even let me date Jean Paul even if I wanted to… would they…? even if he wanted to date me back- is he still here- did he leave? I need to lift my head up eventually… my head is pounding- why can’t one of them be here to take things up- why can't I go back- why can’t I shut myself off right now- where’s the help when I need it. Where’s the person who cares about me-?” He couldn’t even tell his internal thoughts from his own outward rambling frenchie moved his hand over to jakes head and gently fixed strands of jake's hair back in place

“Jake…” frenchie said softly and when he did Jake seemed to freeze up and tense like stone for a moment before softening enough to lift his head a bit just so he could look up to frenchie. tears where streaming down jakes face and frenchie finally spoke

“I… you mean so much to me- I didn’t mean to hurt you like this-“

“I deserve to be hurt…”

“No jake you don’t.”

“I do… that’s my whole purpose I take the punches. I don’t get… how You see me as more then that-“

“Because you are more then that.”

“No im not-“ Jake said once again with a frustrated snarl*

“To me you are more then you say you are. I…. I was heartbroken when you were gone- I thought… I thought I made that clear- I really didn’t mean to tease you… I was mostly poking fun at my self jake.”

“How would you be poking fun at yourself it’s not like you want to kiss me-“

“… Jake- wow your just… *he roled his eyes* “I love you- I don’t just want to kiss you I want to be there for you, and I always will be there for you one way or another no matter how long it takes for you to fully open up- I’ll be here for you. Even when you where gone all that time- I wanted to be there for you…” *he took his hand off of jakes head and rested then on the table* “I guess drunk thoughts aren’t always the wisest huh?”

“But they tend to be true ones…right?”

“True-“ frenchie smiled softly

“You… actually love me…? Romantically…? Or just…”

“Yes romantically Jake-“ he said abruptly

“…but…what will the others…”

“Fuck what the others think! Listen if Marc and the British one-“

*jake interrupted frenchie for a moment to correct him and tell him stevens name*

“YEA OK SO IF MARC AND STEVEN AND LAYLA CAN MAKE THERE THREE WAY GAY-straiGht relationship woRk- we can make this work to!”

“But how… how can it work? I’m usually tucked away… do you really want to have some one as inconsistent as me as a lover?”

“Love finds a way, it always does, my love for you won’t ever fade jake, it never did. All I really tried in the past was to move on from my thoughts of you and it never worked- i would happily wait years for you- I’ll be here every step of the way- we can discuss with the others a proper schedule… we can- we can make it work- I promise-“

“What if I’m not good enough-“

“You say it as if I’m good enough.”

“Jean your more then enough your so much more-“

“And that’s how I see you to-“ he reached his hands to jakes and held them gently before giving them a little squeeze*

“I still can’t believe any of this… is actually happening…” Jake said with his face a pink glow. He was happy- he was worried this was some sort of dream or something- he was anxious he would wake up and this would be all over or even worse? The next day they would pretend it never happened because they where drunk.

“I… really can’t believe it…” he pulled his hands away slowly* “how do I know we won’t just sweep this all under the rug by tomorrow…?”

“You think I would sweep this sweet confession under the rug? What do you take me for? Heartless?”

“No not at all- I just… I don’t know-“

“Here- I’ll prove it to you-“ *he took his unfinished glass of beer and chugged the final gulp for courage before standing up*

“What are you doing??”

Frenchie then stood up on the seat- “MAY I HAVE EVERY ONES ATTENTION?”

“Oh my fucking goD- Get doWn-“

“I’ll shoUt it louDer if I haVe tO-“

“your gonna get us kiCked oUt-!”

“WELL THEN SO BE IT! HEY EVERYONE YOU SEE THIS WONDERFUL MAN RIGHT HERE? WITH THE MOST HANDSOME EYES YOUVE EVER SEEN? I LOVE HIM! I LOVE HIS SMILE I LOVE HIS HAIR I LOVE HIM! I LOVE EVERY THING ABOUT HIM EVEN HIS QUIRKS!”

*some people stared and some one in the back mumbled “queers-“ while the bartender roled there eyes like this was a normal every few days occurance that had gotten annoying

Jake got up and pulled frenchies arm so he would sit back down. “Your so… fucking stupid…” he said with a smile as he started to chuckle- this was a smile that frenchie hadn’t seen in a long time, with softly lidded eyes and such care free relaxedness. And frenchie melted seeing jakes face relaxed and happy like this. As Jake was laughing happily about all of this the owner of the bar came over and interrupted the two “hey you guys gotta get going your making to much of a scene-“

“Fine so be it!” Said frenchie as he payed for the drinks- also leaving a nice tip for the waiter who had been taking there orders

And so they left the bar side by side- frenchie hesitating at first before grabbing hold of jakes hand as they stepped outside

“…so… what now…?” Jake asked softly as he noticed frenchies hand wrapped around his.

“Up to you really… we don’t need to rush any thing if your not ready, just know I’m here.”

Jake gave a nod and let go of frenchies hand for a moment there was jsut content silence between the two before jake turned to frenchie and giving him an unexpected bear hug

“Te amo…” jake muttered softly as he hugged on

“"je t'aime aussi"

Just a heads up. The following imagine was drawn in a time of mental… distress. I have been feeling a lot about myself and drew some vent art as a means to Chanel my emotions.

The reason I’ve put a warning is not that it’s NSFW there is no nudity perhaps gore. But more the emotions I felt while making it and looking at it.

I call it self reflection, and I hope it speaks for itself

TW ANOREXIA TRIGGERING

I think my anorexia is coming back, I start to eat less and less, I have no apettite, I'm scared to eat or try things that I don't know how many calories they have. I started to increase Symfaxin, which I have prescribed for depressive anxiety neurosis and maybe that is why I have no appetite, I feel sick after eating, even after small portions. I started to lose weight and I am very happy about it, but I remember what a bitch anorexia is and that is what I'm afraid of.

I look at my reflection in the mirror and I can't see me. I ask myself 'is that really me?'. The memory of the first time this happened still haunts me and I relive it over and over and over. Objectively I know that it's me, but when I see my face I can't see me and when I see my body I can't see me, no matter how hard I try. In fact I have a hard time even conceptualizing a holistic image of my outer appearance. Its just all disconnected features, that don't fit together and that, even If I were able to add them up, wouldn't look like me.

I have a special quarrel with my female body. I feel utterly disgusted even by the mere possibility of getting pregnant. I hate the fact that I am able to get pregnant, to an extent that I would probably end my life If I ever did, even If with the option of abortion. Even thinking about it right now is physically painful. My chest hurts and I want to throw up. Just how it looks is upsetting to me as well, but I don't know why.

This has sabotaged all my sexual and thus also all my romantic relationships with men and woman alike. I tends to get with feminine men with long hair, but I ask myself constantly 'what If I don't want to be with them, what If I want to be them?'. What makes it especially suspicious is that I like guys who may look like me If I were male almost to a 't' the same hair and eye color and clothing style, roughly similar in height, weight and facial features. If the men I had dated would have been woman, I would have had dated my doppelganger. Its creepy.

Is it bc it's a female body or is it just bc I hate how it looks? I know I want it to be firmer and skinner, although I way at most 55 kilograms at a height of almost 170 centimeters. Its the same thing yet again: I know I'm not ugly by societal standards bc people have told me so all my life. I know that my face outshines my body by millennia though. But even my face I can't really say I feel like it's beautiful. Its just there.

When I look at myself I don't feel the sensation I usually get when looking at something I find visually pleasing. I wear extravagant or weird clothing and make up, that I think are beautiful, in order to help the disconnect. But its not enough and I come to realize maybe it will never be. I have been living like this ever since I was a pre teen. I turn twenty-one soon. It's been ten years and I'm tired. Sometimes I imagine myself in a male body. Sometimes it gives me a sense of peace, most times it scares me to death.

I have a difficult relationship with being a woman, in the social sense, being assigned female at birth. Being raised as a woman was incredibly painful to me at times, not bc my gender expression, witch was always feminine, clashed with the expectations but my personality did, in a big way. Yet when I look around at other woman I can see the same hurt in their stories. I can see myself in them in a way I will never be able to do with a man. My relationships with woman as a woman are the most defining of my life. Female companionship is life changing. Only among woman I can almost feel what might be called freedom, what might be called peace. I realized: I could never live life as a man. I don't want to live life as a man. But should I be male, am I a man? Maybe non-binary? But what do I do with my body in that case? I don't know, I just don't know. It kills me.

Maybe seek professional help and not rant on tumblr, but one of those costs money and the other is free. I don't know what's wrong with me. Maybe I am dysphoric, but I do have genetic dispositions for depression, bipolar and schizophrenia, so who knows. I just know that this can't be normal. Or do other people live like this just fine? In this agony?

As a side note: This was pretty heavy stuff and I am truly and deeply sorry If I failed to tag one of your triggers. If you feel like it just hit me up and I'll add it. I also thought about adding a trans tag but I think I invade your spaces enough already, so please also hit me up If you think I should take a tag off this post.

Fucking stunning.

blood-splattered angels [tasm!Peter x assassin!fem!reader]

My own take on my TASM prompt challenge (open to anyone who feels like writing; it’s not a competition or exclusive).

Summary: THIS PROMPT - Spider-Man is kidnapped and held hostage by a mob. And then they make their biggest mistake - sending you the address. 

Words: 3.8k

Warnings: John Wick-level violence, death, blood, gunfire, whump, torture, male nudity/degradation, panic attacks, noncon voyeuristic photography, mobster-style shootout, description of flu symptoms, vomit, strong language, badass!reader, OP’s awful attempt at writing broken English in a Russian accent. 

This was bad. Really bad.

Peter was starting to come out of it, his dazed eyes flickering open—senses bombarded with harsh fluorescent light.

His face was wet with blood, sweat, and yes—he wasn’t ashamed to admit it—tears. The bile on his tongue was so putrid, he thought he’d throw up. Again. Maybe his actual stomach this time.

His body ached and shuddered uncontrollably. It felt like the worst flu of his life, and whatever he thought Ebola probably felt like. Every inch of his skin hurt. What little strength he had left in his muscles was depleting with every involuntary tremble.

He was having a very bad day.

Keep reading

Something a little more dark than my usual stuff lol! It's a quick sketch of my second Tarnished character, Meliora. Elden Ring Spoilers probably! The Omen girl she is hugging is not really there, it's the girl she played with when she was younger, before things got more difficult...

Before she couldn't see herself the same way anymore.

Church Boy-Failure

TW

I walked home instead of riding the bus. I couldn't face that fucking freak and his stoner buddy.

When I got home, my father was sitting in the living room. He always loved that chair, potentially more than he loved me.

"Travis."

"Father."

"I have a question."

"Yes, sir?" I ask, heart racing. "Do you think I'm a monster?" he asked, calm as ever. "No! Of course not, father!" I protested, dropping my school bag. "Oh?" he stated, giving me a subtle look of surprise. "Really? Then tell me why... tell me why you are so scared of me." 

"What...?"

"You heard me, son."

"..."

"Go on...Tell me...If you aren't scared."

"Well...because you are my father and I know you love me. The punishments hurt but I am deserving of them! You are teaching me." 

"Good. To your room. Now."

"Yes, sir."

I grabbed my bag and then walked up to my bedroom, sitting on my mattress that was resting on the floor. After an hour or so, I fell asleep. My dream was weird.

-DREAM-

I walked into the school's bathroom. Sobs and cries emanated from a stall. "Hello? Are you okay?" I called out. 

The voice was not mine.

So familiar, yet I couldn't pinpoint it.

"I'm fine! Go away, fucking freak..." the hidden voice replied, voice cracking. "I just want to help..." I muttered, embarrassment hinting in my tone. "I don't need your pity!" the voice yelled, slightly distorted. "I'm sorry..." I apologized, walking away and back through the doors. 

"Faggot!" the voice yelled as I walked through the doors. I didn't pay it any mind. But now, I was in my bedroom. Not my actual bedroom, one that was supposed to be mine. I lay in blue covers, blue sheets, blue hair, blue eyes, and blue pills...

My vision was funky and weird. 

I grabbed for something on the side of my bed. With a small 'pop!' I could see better. "Sal!" a voice called from the next room. Involuntarily, I got up and fell into a deep abyss upon stepping off my bed.  

That's when I woke up. I sat up in my bed, sweating and shaking. A moment later, my father walked in. "Travis, I suggest you begin to prep the table. That is, unless, of course, you aren't eating." he said, then closed the door and exited. 

I sighed softly and left my room. My father was in the living room, he was reading a book. "Prick..." I thought. 

*Time Skip*

I finished setting the table and alerted my father. "Father, the table is set." I informed, tending to my seat across from where my father will sit. "Good." he answered. When he arrived at the table, he sat and we began to pray.

(Sorry, I'm not religious and I don't want to include an actual prayer. I don't know what to put and it doesn't exactly matter anyways. I hope you all understand!)

"Amen." we finished. 

Dinner went by silently, it used to be comfortable and talkative when mother was here. I miss her...so much...

After dinner, I went back up to my room and lay down. Not to sleep, but to think and relax. Two hours passed and my father burst into my room. "Travis. Your teacher has informed me that you need math tutoring and that you could also tutor someone yourself, get up." he demanded. "Yes, father." 

I obediently got up and walked to the door, waiting for further instructions. "Come." he commanded. I followed my father down to the front door and waited by his side. A few muffled voices were heard on the other side, and my heart beat up. 

My father sighed in exasperation and looked over at me. He scowled and smacked the back of my head. "Act proper. You fucking failure..." he demanded, muttering the last part. "Yes, sir." I replied, fixing my posture and smiling. My father opened the door and there he fucking was...

Larry Johnson...

He was wearing a white button-up and some beige dress pants with loafers. His hair was brushed and pulled into a ponytail. 

Oh my fucking...

My fists clenched but I forced a smile. "Hello, Larry." I greeted, smiling until my face hurt. "Hey, Travis!" he responded, shaking my hand. "Hello, Mr. Phelps." Larry said, shaking my father's hand as well. 

"Good evening, Mr. Johnson. It's so nice to see you. I know you'll be a great influence on Travis. If there's any trouble, don't hesitate to bring him home immediately..." 

Little did Larry know, that was a threat. "Of course, Mr. Phelps! Can he come now? I don't want to be out too late!" Larry asked, faking it all. "Yes. He can go. I suggest bringing him home tomorrow morning." My father said, eying me. 

"Yes, sir! Will do!" Larry agreed, smiling harder. "Great." my father said, smiling again.

*Time Skip*

After my father and Larry stopped talking, he allowed me to follow him back to his apartments. He lived in Addison, they were right by the church, so I knew exactly where they were located. 

*Time Skip*

We got to the apartments and walked in. Larry grabbed a keycard from his pocket, and we started to descend. "Oh my fucking god!" Larry exclaimed, ripping off his button-up to reveal a brown shirt with the letters "SF" printed in the middle. 

"What are you going to do to me?" I exasperatedly asked. "Nothing, that's a question better fit for Sal." Larry answered. As soon as he said that the elevator stopped, and the doors slid open. "Come on, my room this way." Larry nonchalantly said. "Okay?" I responded, following right behind.

We walked into a nice-looking apartment, it was cozy and smelled like a home-cooked meal. I followed Larry into a room with a 'Do not Enter' sign on it. The room smelt of weed and smoke. There was a noticeable blue at the far end of the room.

Sal...

"Hey, Sal! I'm back with your boyfriend!" Larry yelled. "Shut up, Larry." Sal replied. I looked down and when I looked back up, Sal was right in front of me. He had no shirt on, and some baggy jeans that were barely on his hips. "Hey, Travis." Sal greeted. 

I was in a trance.

I could see his waist, it looked so fragile and small. His hips were defined and curved. The way I could see the little lines leading into his pants and a small part of his blue happy trail. I could even see a part of his boxers. "Travis?" Sal asked again, snapping his fingers in front of my face. 

"Yea?" I ask, finally paying attention. "Are you okay?"

"Yep."

"Alright, do you wanna help me with English or do you wanna study math?"

"Um..."

"..."

"Let's do the literature. I can get all my frustration out with that first."

"Ha, okay. I can get the textbook, just give me a second."

"Alright."

Sal walked over to Larry's bed and flipped over the covers. After searching for a second, he found it and lifted a large textbook. "Found 'em!" he shouted, scurrying back over to me. He grabbed my hand and dragged me over to the bed. Pushing me down onto the covers, he plopped next to me. 

"Ok, so, I didn't understand this metaphor, could you explain it to me? Like, I understand it's a metaphor for how sad the poet is, but what exactly does it mean?" Sal asked, pointing to a line near the center of the page. "Oh, it's about how they feel unappreciated." I answered, explaining why.

"I get it! Oh my god, thank you!" Sal yelled, throwing his arms around me and pulling me into a tight hug. "Mhm, no problem." I said, coldly. "Wish the teachers had explained it like that!" Sal joked, breaking away. "Yep..." I replied, grabbing my hands and putting them in between my thighs. 

"Alright, time for math!" Sal said, getting up and grabbing a different textbook. "Okay..." I muttered, waiting for him to come back. Once he did, we flipped open to the correct page and started doing the problems one by one.

"Hey, Sal! You want a hit?" Larry called from across the room, holding up a blunt. "Yeah, gimme a sec." Sal replied, helping me finish the problem and then going over to Larry. He loosened his mask and lifted it a little. I saw a part of his face.

He had a deep gash in his cheek and a large hole missing on his other one. His lips were pink and scarred with little white lines. He had perfect white teeth that contrasted with his pale skin. I felt my face heat up, but I didn't know why. 

He put the blunt to his lips and pulled it away after a second. 

Sal noticed my staring and put his mask back down. He breathed out and smoke escaped from his eye and mouth slits. "Sorry, didn't mean to stare." I murmured, looking back down. "You gay or something? You're all red and shit." Larry asked. "No! I'm not a faggot!" I yelled, standing up. "Chill out, it was a joke." Larry retorted, rolling his eyes. "Whatever..." I said, sitting back down.

I was just sitting there, waiting for Sal to finish his smoke. "Hey, Larry?" I called out, grabbing the greasy teens' attention. "Yea?" He asked. "Do you have a cigarette?" I nervously asked, hoping he would say yes. "Oh shit. Thought you were some goody-two-shoes little Christian boy. Never mind, Mr. Badass." Larry joked, grabbing in his jean pocket and pulling out a green box.

"Thanks, I'll be right back." I said, walking out through the door in the back of his room. 

I stepped outside and it was freezing. I pulled a lighter from my pocket and lit the cigarette. I looked out into the field; a tall treehouse was sitting upon a large oak tree. I was curious, I'd just ask when I went back inside. I took one last hit of the cigarette before throwing it on the ground and putting it out with my shoe. 

Sal's POV:

We finished the last problem, and I went over to Larry to smoke. Larry gave Travis a cigarette and he went out back. Wonder if he'll see the treehouse. I bet he will. After he left, I lifted my mask and smoked some more. I heard the door creak open again and a very cold Travis enter. He was shaking and his nose and cheeks were red. 

"Hey, Travis." Larry kindly greeted, piquing my interest. "Hey?" Travis responded, also confused at his sudden kindness. "Looks like you're a little cold." Larry commented, still kind. "Yea? Thanks for pointing out the obvious." Travis replied, sitting on the floor. "Yep."

"So? What the fuck was that?"

"Nothing. Just wanted to see if he was cold. I know how to fix that."

"Larry, what are you getting at?"

"Well, maybe Sal could warm you up a little."

"I'm not gay!"

"Sal is."

"He is?"

"Yep."

"Oh..."

I was still sitting on the ground next to Larry. I noticed that Travis turned to look at me. We locked eyes for a second before I looked back at the ground, ears heating up. 

Travis' POV:

I looked over at Sal. We just looked at each other for a second before he looked away. His ears and neck got all red and I stifled a laugh. "So, you guys wanna play a game?" Larry asked. "Sure!" Sal quickly agreed, likely hoping to forget the fact he just got outted. 

"Travis, you in?" Sal asked, ears and neck still cooling off. I shrugged my shoulders and crawled over to them. "So, what are we playing?" I ask. "I dunno, truth or dare?" Sal suggested. "Sure." Larry agreed.

They both turned their attention towards me, and I shrugged my shoulders, in a way, agreeing to the game. "Alright, Sal, truth or dare?" Larry asked. "Dare!" Sal answered. "Okay, okay. I dare you to...uhm...oh! I dare you to throw it back." Larry said a shit-eating grin plastered boldly on his face, the gap in his teeth barely visible. 

Sal's eyes scrunched up, signaling he was smiling. He nodded silently and walked to the center of the room. He crouched and arched his back, hands on knees. He began to aggressively move around, looking similar to a seizure. After he was done, it was Sal's turn to ask.

Larry's face had gone red from stifling a laugh. He couldn't hold it any longer and burst into a fit of boyish giggles and hiccups. After he caught his breath, we continued the game. "Alright, Travis, truth or dare?" Sal asked. "Truth." I answered, not really trying to participate in this game. "Aww, whatever. Is it true that...you're straight?" Sal asked, eyes staring right into me. 

Once again, my face got hot. "I'm not fucking gay! Holy shit! Why can't either of you understand that?!" I yelled, standing up and clenching my fists, and chewing on the inside of my cheek. "Sorry, dude." Sal apologized. "Whatever!" I yelled, walking out of the room and to the bathroom. 

In there, I absorbed my surroundings.

Toilet.

Sink.

Faucet.

Bath.

Soap.

Tooth brush.

Tooth paste.

Razors.

Razors...

(originally posted May 17th 2023 on Wattpad)

"Church Boy." - Failure - Wattpad

It is strange feeling, starting from a scratch, on a blank page, new chapter. exciting and stressful at the same time. not sure, if the path i chose is the right one, but only time will show me that.

i decided to start new blog, where i can be 100 % honest and open about things i wouldn't dare to talk about on my old blog. i really need place to vent, diary in a language, that might understand people with similar experiences.

and not just a diary. i'd like to share my old stories, things i lived through, as a form of therapy, caharsis, whatever you want to call it. there is so many things i need to talk about, that have been swelling under my skin and in my brain fibers for over decade.

really important disclaimer: as i am about to be very honest, i might share stuff that could be potentially triggering for some. (especially sh, ed, bullying, family issues, etc.) my aim is not trigger anyone, but possibly find people that went through similar stuff and need someone to talk, to understand.

so, be my guest and maybe you will find comfort and familiarity in those words i am about to share.

17. listopadu jsem se stavila domů...? vždycky se nějak zastavím, když mám použít slovo doma, je tak vyprázdněný a nějak divně studí. podobný, jako když jsem asi před měsícem seděla v noci na studený lavičce a tekly mi slzy a sopel z nosu, protože mě zas dostihlo, jak zapomenutelná jsem a mráz kolem ani z poloviny nestudil tak jako chlad uvnitř mých vlastních útrob. husí kůže a reálnej pocit, jako by mi po zádech jezdila ruka Smrti. záchvěv suicidality, touha se prostě vypnout, aby to přestalo bolet. 

Hodně teď používám slovo “komunita”. Říkám, že si potřebuju najít svou komunitu. Tight-knitted group of my own. Potřeba patřit někam, konečně. Před 4 rokama to bylo poprvý, co jsem měla pocit, že jsem našla svoje lidi. V klubu, kterej kvůli dementům, co nevidí přes svoje vlastní předsudky, už zanikl. Diy scéna potetovaných lidí s ve vythriftěných hadrech a s piercingy na obličeji. Bytosti, co se hýbou do rytmu hc kapel na veganských beneficích. Mám z lidí strach, měla jsem strach i z těchhle lidí, moje minulý vanilkový já s jedinou modifikací - obarvenými vlasy. Byly to nápisy na záchodech, který mě přesvědčily, že sem patřím. Nálepky na kachlících za práva zvířat a letáčky s veganskými akcemi. Lgbtq vlaječka, cedule, na který tenkrát bylo něco ve smyslu: no homophobia, no racism, no sexism. Nikdy, nikdy jsem nezažila, že by mě tam někdo obtěžoval, naopak mi tam bylo líp než kdekoli jinde. Je to paradox, nitro jako horká čokoláda za drsnou slupkou. Pach umělýho kouře, plísně a trávy. Po nějaké době jsem si začala zapamatovávat tváře lidí, vystalkovala jsem na scokách jména. Protože chci někam patřit. Potřebuju najít svý lidi.  

Alienated. Další slovo. V češtině odcizený, ale to není ono. Necítím se jako cizinec, ale jako mimozemšťan. Nikdy jsem nezapadala to těch úzkejch školních kolektivů, mohla jsem nějakou dobu předstírat, ale po nějaký době jsem zas začala vyčnínvat, trčet. Deformovaná mysl nezapadá do soukolí.  

Nedávno jsem přemýšlela nad oblečením a hudbou, věcma, který frčely v době mýho dospívání na vesnici vprostřed zapomenutýho kraje. Mikiny, kšiltovky, hadry derivovaný z hip hopu, co přivlastnily tyhle taky předem zapomenutý děcka. Holky s příliš drsnými způsoby, aby se trochu vyrovnaly těm starším klukům, těm příliš křupanským idolům, příliš maskulinním, hrubým a budoucím vařičům pika. Or whatever. Myslela jsem na soundtrack z Projektu X , Black eyed peas, Scary movie a Shakiru nebo Davida Guettu, všechny ty popkulturní sračky, který mi řipomnají depresivní základku, který tvořily kulisu šikaně a bitkám na autobusový zastávce a prvním cigaretám. Dokud jsem si nenašla něco svýho, dokud jsem neuviděla, jak moc z toho trčím. Taky značkový hadry a snaha stylizovat se do úplných vyvrhelů. Později to bylo ještě trapnější geekovství ve stylu the big bang theory a LMFAO. 

 A pak jsem tady byla já. S vlasy, který jsem si sama barvila černým Palette tajně asi o půlnoci v zamčený koupelně. S černou tužkou na oči, která se naprosto nehodí k mýmu podivnýmu tvaru očí, s černým lakem na nehty a s jakýmikoli hadry černý barvy. A později černý náramky na rukách, který “nenápadně” kryly jizvy, protoře co bych to jinak byla za emo, že (haha. Not realy.).  

chtěla jsem bejt Gerard, chtěla jsem hrozně něam patřit. Jenže tenhle rychlík už ujel, MCR měli svou největší slávu jaksi za sebou, měla jsem asi sedm let zpoždění, podobně, jako jsem měla x let zpoždění v případě punku, grunge, rock’n’rollu a metalu, nebyla jsem u toho, když se psaly hudební dějiny. Byla jsem teenager zrovna v nějakým hluchým období, kdy nic reálně charismatickýho k mání nebylo. Nebo mi to aspoň tak přijde. Popík, Guetta, lady gaga mi v tý době taky mic ještě neříkala. Kdyby billie eilish přišla v tý době, působila by jako zjevení a já bych z ní skoro určitě byla naprosto hotová.  

Ale našla jsem si to svoje, nakonec. Předtím to byli HIM a jejich prokletej básník Vile Valo. Romantizace smrti, láska jako synonymum sebevraždy. A naopak. Proč mě máma nedokopala na psychiatrii dřív mi je fakt záhadou. Někdy v tý době jsem objevila tumblr. Heuréka! 

Tehdy mi přišlo, jako by to byla platforma přesně pro mě. Absence českých blogerů, takže jsem se nemusela ani bát, že by mě někdo nějak poznal (?). Už dřív jsem byla depresivní, takže mi všechny ty černobílý gify pořezaných rukou s cigaretama a podobný srandy přišly jako pohlazení po duši. Po tom, co jsem se dostala přes pocit, že se dívám na něco, na co bych se dívat neměla. Je to asi divný, ale v době a sociální bublině, kde jsem se tehdy nacházela, bylo duševní (ne(zdraví a všechno s tím související tabu. Principy “kluci nebrečí” se tak nějak aplikovaly i na holky, všichni museli zapadat do normy, protože se kolektiv řídil mottem “žer nebo buď sežrán”. Kolektivní traumatizace, duševní mrzačení. Kvůli ničemu.  

Tak jsem objevila tumblr a přišlo mi, že sem chodí všechny ty usoužený duše ze všech koutů světa, protože smutek je univerzální jazyk. Bylo to srozumitelný, srozumitelnější než můj přítomnej všednodenní svět na základce (a pak střední) a linulo se to skrz prostor i čas. Citáty dávno mrtvých spisovatelů a spisovatelek, rockových ikon, umělců a umělkyň. Naše kolektvní utrpení, který jsem denně tajně do ranních hodin prolézala jako speolog. Koncentrovaná hořkosladká bolest prosakující skrz tmavě modrý background.  

Holky v martenskách nebo converskách, flanelový košile, černý silonky, tmavá rtěnka a choker na krku. Neo grunge byl v tý době moje aspirace, moje evangelium., něco “mýho”. Něco tak povrchního a obyčejnýho, jako je olbečení a...stejně jsem se bála odlišovat, vyčnívat, byť jen trochu. Tohle bylo už na střední, ale myslím, že se mi základka zaryla hluboko pod kůži a přichytila se tam háčky. Kromě grunge, arctic monkeys a lany del rey mě tumblr přivedl do mnohem temnějších vod...ne, nepřivedl. Já jsem už totiž byla na té dráze a střetnutí bylo nevyhnutelný...

2011

TW: sh, sa, violence

Jako skoro u všech záležitostí v životě, i k tomuto momentu vedla spletitá cesta nedorozumění, omylů a mentálních zkratů. Když si totiž tiskla ostří zalamovacího nože ke kůži na ruce, přesně tahle otázka jí prošla hlavou: Jak jsem se sem dostala?

Samozřejmě věděla, jak se dostala na chladnou zem koupelny, věděla, odkud vzala nůž. Nedokázala ale dohlédnout na konec toho dlouhého řetězce událostí, na ten amalgám bolesti, osamocení a vzteku, který ji konečně na tohle místo poslal. Někdy přemýšlela nad tím, jak by vypadal její Očistec, která vzpomínka jí už dekády vyleptává v mozku díry. Dřív si myslela, že by to byla tahle, ale pozdější vzpomínky se ukázaly jako velká konkurence.

Předcházel tomu dusivý vztek a úzkost. Stála ve spíži a poslouchala tátu, jak řve na cestě po schodech dolů. Nadával, jako ostatně poslední dobou často. Od doby, co přišel o práci, sledovala den za dnem, jak se mění v nerozpoznatelnou osobu. Byl jako zvíře v kleci, které je den ode dne vzteklejší. Zdálo se, že je doma stejně zaseknutý a izolovaný jako ona. Možná právě to byla ta věc, která ho na ní nejvíc dráždila, možná v ní viděl tak moc sebe...

Střešním oknem byla vidět jasná letní obloha. Krásný den. Opravdu, krásný den na první ochutnávku něčeho, co ji bude doprovázet dalších 13 let života. Někdy pronásledovat jak lovecký pes, někdy jenom pozorovat z dálky, někdy to bude jenom myšlenka podobná neodbytnému hmyzu, která se pořád vrací. Teplo slunečních paprsků znovu rozhoupalo olůvko úzkosti v hrudníku. Který den to asi byl? Kolik léta už odteklo odtokem ve vaně? Kolik dnů života jí ještě zbývá, než přijde ten nejhorší, ten, kterého se obávala od konce června? Ta myšlenka zkroutila její vnitřnosti jako mokrý ručník. Jo. Kolik času už mi proteklo mezi prsty?

Začátek prázdnin pro ni představoval břeh ostrova, na který se z posledních sil plazí skrz dorážející moře. Poslední týdny se zdály nekonečné, možná proto, že už nebylo co dělat kromě gumování starých učebnic a přebírání nových. Zhnuseně zjistila, že je její učebnice češtiny skoro celá pokreslená lihovkou a už předem se děsila dne, kdy učitelka uvidí některou ilustraci vylepšenou přikresleným penisem v puse. Bylo v tom něco děsivě primitivního.

Nenáviděla je, nenáviděla jejich zpocená těla, hrubost a vulgárnost všeho, co dělali. Gesta a zvuky, všechno, co dokreslovalo skoro každou mučivě dlouhou přestávku. Nenáviděla mutací ještě hlubší hlasy, ve kterých se ten její topil. Jako smečka hyen se kradli po chodbách a vyhlíželi si kořist, oběť pro další rituál vlastní maskulinity, pro potvrzení hierarchie smečky. Nebyla úplně nejvýš na jejich menu, ale pořád dost vysoko na to, aby měla dennodenně strach.

A když skončila škola, najednou to všechno...přestalo. Úplně všechno. Myslela, že se toho nedožije a najednou byla v bezpečí. A první týden byl skvělý. Zjistila, že posledních deset měsíců zadržovala dech. Konečně mohla nabrat do plic vzduchu tolik, kolik jí jejich kapacita umožňovala. Konečně mohla svléknout brnění a všechny ochranné vrstvy, které si vytvořila jako nějaký brouk, který se snaží adaptovat na nové nehostinné prostředí. Bylo ticho. Bylo úplné ticho. A to ticho trvalo stále. Tolik se soustředila na vlastní přežití, že si ani neuvědomila, že s ní nikdo nebude, až přežije. Měla si to uvědomit, měla to vědět. Měla na to být připravená, že se stane mrtvou ve chvíli, kdy vypadnou z vrat školy, kdy nebude existovat úkol nebo test, který by mohli opsat...samozřejmě neměla na mysli svoje trýznitele nebo ty, kteří se prostě jen smáli a přihlíželi, ale přece jen tu byl někdo, na koho spoléhala. A neměla. Neměla spoléhat na nikoho a teď byl prázdný displej Nokie prostě jen hořká připomínka toho, že je sama. Nakonec mobil někam odložila a nechala vrstvu prachu, ať se na něm usadí.

Na to všechno toho dne myslela a něco se uvnitř ní zlomilo. Představovala si, jako by ji všechna ta agrese a vztek naplňovala jako nějaká černá melasa. Nebyl to její vztek, nepatřil jí, ale jako by se dokázal dostat skrz buněčné membrány a naplnit její samotnou podstatu. Jako by se v tom svinstu topila, měla dojem, že se udusí, že se všechno, co je její, rozpustí v té záplavě zuřivosti.

Potřebovala to ze sebe nějak dostat ven, možná vyzvracet, nějak otevřít svůj krevní oběh nebo hrudní koš a vypumpovat všechnu bolest pryč. Dostat to ze sebe ven. Sestra měla v kufříku na výtvarku zalamovací nůž. Z nějakého naprosto bizarního důvodu je měli mít, pamatuje si. Kdo by tak malým dětem dal do ruky zalamovací nůž? Ale teď se hodil, bezmyšlenkovitě ho vzala, zamknula se v koupelně a skrz kanoucí slzy promýšlela další krok.

Neměla by se zamykat. Pokud přijde zpátky, asi ho to ještě víc naštve. A pokud to neudělám dost rychle...

Vědomí, že ví, co dělat, že ví, co udělá, ji uklidnilo. Musí být klidná, musí se teď soustředit. Musí odhadnout, jak moc přitlačit na plast. Ostří namíří kolmo na kůži a přitlačí, je to nový pocit a nová situace. Pud sebezáchovy jí řve do ucha, proto je první přejetí čepele po kůži jenom povrchové, pak přitlačí víc. A chvíli je dokonalé ticho. Chvíli se nic neděje, až za okamžik se objeví červené korálky na šňůrce, kterou z ničeho vytvořila. Ani nedokáže určit, jestli to bolí. Příčina, proč to dělá, bolí mnohem víc. Krev kape na podlahu a endorfiny poblázněně tančí, když si v euforii prohlíží, co udělala. Je to jako tenkrát, když vypila první panák vodky. Ten pocit, že cosi zapadlo na své místo, kde to mělo vždycky být. Jako by něco v jejím mozku konečně sepnulo a ona teď mohla být jako ostatní, po všech těch letech.

Ale tohle není jako ostatní, tohle ostatní nedělají, tohle dělají magoři a blázni... Omotá si ruku od krve toaletním papírem a poslouchá, jestli je někdo na chodbě, neslyší ale nic než tlukot vlastního srdce. Srdce, které by takhle mělo tlouct pořád, krev, která by měla být zběsilá, protože je tak mladá a naživu. Já jsem naživu. Dlouho jsem si nepřipadala takhle naživu.

Ikdyž jsem pro ostatní mrtvá...Tohle je něco, co může být jenom moje.

Možná to byla falešná vzpomínka, možná se to stalo později.

Autor se prohrabuje krabicí starých deníků a snaží se chronologicky seřadit události tak, jak následovaly za sebou. Je to těžký, protože musí doplňovat mezery mezi jednotlivými událostmi, zámlky a vynechávky, když věděla, že to, co se jí děje, je příliš hrozné, než aby se o tom dalo psát v deníku, příliš to bolelo, než aby to rozpitvávala znovu ve vlastní hlavě, znovu a znovu to prožívala. Vytěsnění, snaha o tom nemluvit, nepřemýšlet o tom, dělat, že se to neděje.

Fight or flight?

Boj nebo útěk?

Vždycky to byl útěk, vždycky to byla její weapon of choice. Od úplnýho začátku, nejdřív jako maladaptivní snění během dne, snění o lepším světě, snění o někom, kdo jí pomůže, snění o drogách, které by si mohla vzít a všechno v její hlavě by se konečně ustálilo, uklidnilo, utišilo. Ve 13 si píše o deníku, jak by si přála mít po ruce trávu, která by to všechno vymazala. Ve 13 se poprvé opije pivem a vínem a okamžitě si tuhle formu útěku od sebe zamiluje. Alkohol jí přináší euforii, kterou si přeje cítit pořád místo svojí melancholie a úzkosti. Krade cigarety a namlouvá si, že mají taky moc změnit stav vědomí. A pak je tu sebepoškozování, další forma útěku. A mnohem, mnohem později si konečně obstará i tu trávu, éčko a dokonce perník...Ale ta touha po útěku, ta snaha se dostat “někam pryč”, tu je možné najít už v době, kdy jí bylo 13.

Predispozice k vytvoření závislosti, predispozice pro budoucí průsery. Možná je to nediagnostikovaný autismus, který je přidán do toho mixu jako divoká karta mnohem později, ale docela dobře vysvětluje, proč se cítila celý dospívání jako vyvrhel. Mozek, který funguje trochu jinak, je trochu jinak nadrátovaný a tím pádem trochu jinak vnímá realitu. A samozřejmě je to něco, co ostatní jaksi instinktivně vycítí, jako pach cizí kočky. Kolikrát si v deníku pokládá otázku, co je to “to”, co ji vyčleňuje? Proč si vybrali ji, zvlášť když ještě před pár roky byla tolik oblíbená a “ta chytrá”?

Dynamika se změnila poté, co přišly další děti z mnohem menší, mnohem zanedbanější a podfinancovanější školy. Přinesli s sebou nové formy tortury, protože to byl asi způsob přežití tam, když máte mezi sebou mladé sociopaty a děti z vážně dysfunkčních rodin, kde se objevuje násilí a zanedbávání. Začne si myslet, že je to slabost, kterou z ní cítí, že dokáží rozpoznat ten jiný pach někoho, kdo je slaboch...

Byla dřív slepice nebo vejce? Byla deprese následkem nebo příčinou? Mladá duše vysoce senzitivní malé holky, trhaná na kusy mezi těmi hormony a agresí poháněnými kluky, kde neexistuje nic, co by převyšovalo hmotu, tělo, maso... Nebo melancholie, která se jednoho dne snesla tak, jako generace předtím a začala malou holku nutit k izolaci a podivínství, které se dalo přehlížet a tolerovat jen do určitého bodu? Byl to tlak od jejích 13, otázky, kdy si najde kluka a jestli už někoho má, podprahový signál, že je koneckonců žena, zatím v kokonu adolescence, ale jednou bude jejím posláním plodit a vařit? Že je koneckonců masem, jen masem a tělem k naporcování? Vyrůstat v oblasti, kde se daří katolické víře, vám vyleptá v mozku nečekané spojnice a cestičky. Bylo to vyhoření z tlaku, který na sebe kladla od 1. třídy? Celou svou posranou existenci zaměřuje na to, aby byla nejlepší, a tak se hroutí, když dostane z matiky 2-. Byl to táta a jeho selektivní slepota k jejímu snažení, byla to jeho agrese a facky, jeho smsky, ať si nezapomene žákovskou ve škole? Byla to jeho totalita, rozpadající se ego založený na práci a píli, o něž přišel během krátké doby na pracáku? Byl to pradávný gen, malfunkce v mozku, která zařídila, že její praděda zkousl hlaveň brokovnice a stiskl spoušť? Byly to stejné neurony, které má její babička v hlavě a které bez přestání vystřelují chemické vzruchy blížící se zkázy, Apokalypsy a Armageddonu, zatímco leží v posteli a snaží se usnout s tepovkou 200/m? Byla to ta věc, o které se nemluví, ale opona postupně padá, když zjišťuješ, kolik příbuzných je na antidepresivech?

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