The morning a comment made me cry . . .
I have been wrestling with posting this for ages. On the one hand, I want to let people who follow my fanfic to know that I haven’t left. On the other, I am an INFJ, an introvert, and a highly sensitive person who never wants to feel like I’m bothering people or whining about my life. Everyone has problems, everyone is busy, am I right? But then last week, I woke up to a comment on Ao3 for a fic that I wrote years ago, and I ended up sitting at my kitchen table and crying.
It wasn’t just the comment. It was that I had just spent the last night in the house we have lived in for the last 17 years. The house each of my children came home from the hospital to. A house I honestly didn’t want to sell or leave. And it wasn’t like we were moving because we found our dream house or because a new job opportunity came up or anything like that. We sold our house because the church my husband just took a new job at has a parsonage, and that means we can live there rent free. You can’t pass that up from a financial standpoint.
Even if the parsonage is way smaller. And darker. And filthy. And smells bad. And looks like the Byers house in Stranger Things AFTER monsters started coming out of the walls. (ie 80s but gross)
And what makes it harder is that people berate me every time I try to share how hard this is. “You can’t beat free.” I know, I know, but can’t anyone try to imagine how I’m feeling? If you were in my shoes, would it be easy?
Anyways, so back to the comment. I’ve been doing this fanfic thing long enough that in some ways, the comment just made me roll my eyes. But it was kind of like the proverbial straw, you know? I had been trying to hold it together for days, and this mean comment pushed me over the edge. So there I was, crying at my kitchen table surrounded by moving boxes.
To compound it all, I haven’t written much at all since November. Scratch that, more like October. This is frustrating because it’s something I love, and it also causes guilt over all my WIPs. But we decided to put the house on the market in early November, and our realtor said we needed to get it listed before Thanksgiving, so there was the frantic race of “decluttering” ie half-packing the house and a million and one little home repair projects and deep cleaning. Then the house was shown only four times, and we got an offer. Great, right? Only they wanted to move in TWO DAYS before Christmas. That was a hard no for me. So they comprised and said two days AFTER Christmas. Their offer was over the asking price, so we had to take it.
But did I mention the parsonage isn’t livable yet? So yep, we have no home right now. (I won’t say homeless because that word means something very different and much more serious than what we’re going through.) I’ve slept in so many different places over the last week, that this morning I woke up and couldn’t remember where I was.
Did I mention I also have three kids?
If you’ve stuck with me so far, don’t worry, I won’t go into all the details. Just understand that our family of five (plus a dog) will soon be living in my aunt and uncle’s basement for possibly two months. While I homeschool.
And now I feel like I’m whining again. I’m really not a whiner, I promise. I’m just trying to a) explain why I have disappeared for so long and b) why that negative Ao3 comment came at the absolute worst possible time.
That comment was the least of my worries on that particular day, and a week later, I just don’t think it’s worth discussing. Maybe, though, this tale will help people remember to pause before they type something on the internet. Because the person you are addressing has a real life, and there is no way for you to know what they might be going through. I was actually a little happy when I saw the email because a nice comment would have been a bright spot in an otherwise tough day. Instead, it was a kick while I was already down. Comments have a lot of power for a creator. I wish they didn’t. I wish we all “just wrote for ourselves” or could brush it off easily. But writers are sensitive creatures as a rule, especially fanfic writers who are only doing it as a hobby, not for a career. So, you know, just stop and think for a sec. That’s all. And this comment served no purpose whatsoever. I wrote the fic so long ago, there’s no way I’m revising it. Ironically, the person ended the comment by saying, “Enjoying it so far, though.” Which rang totally false after their long list of what was wrong with the story.
Side note: the comment has made me contemplate a post on writer’s tips for writing children well. I’m not just a homeschooling mom, I’m also a former teacher. People seem to seriously not realize this, but teachers have to take college courses on child and adolescent development. We are around children a lot, too, so (shock!) we actually are experts in the field. I don’t know - is that something anyone would be interested in as writers? Because you don’t have to be a parent to write kids well - @whimsicallyenchantedrose and @distant-rose are awesome at it, and they don’t have kids. So if you want tips on that, I’d love to share. It’s something I can kind of get on a soapbox about, lol.
And as for my readers, I’ll tag you all so you know where the hell I’ve been. So here comes the tag list, and I’ll now shut up:
@snowbellewells @teamhook @kmomof4 @jrob64 @xhookswenchx @thisonesatellite @welllpthisishappening @spartanguard @ohmakemeahercules @tiganasummertree @sparlecorn93 @sals86 @pirateprincessofpizza @xarandomdreamx @zaharadessert @huntressandlioness1 @jamif @undercaffinatednightmare @onceratheart18 @sparlecorn93 @sals86 @pirateprincessofpizza @xarandomdreamx @zaharadessert @huntressandlioness1 @winterbaby89 @hollyethecurious @svenjaliv
18 notes
·
View notes
I’m still alive
hey, it’s been awhile since I had posted anything on here. So, those who are wondering where I have been. I been busy with life and working at my new job, which leads me less motivated to do my art and writing stuff in my fanfics and don’t want to post or do them, I have made new platforms to post my art as well but don’t post all the time there.
I also been feeling down and not confident about posting my artwork as well due to them not getting liked enough which leads me doubting my dreams of people noticing my art. But still try no matter what.
Hope you all understand and feel free to follow me on my other social media platforms
instagram:
TikTok:
1 note
·
View note
love when men cry about body hair bc "it's hygiene" and yet 15% of cis men leave the bathroom without washing their hands at all and an additional 35% only just wet their hands without using soap. that is nearly half of all men. that means statistically you have probably shaken hands with or been in direct contact with one of these people.
love when men say that women "only want money" when it turns out that even in equal-earning homes, women are actually adding caregiver burdens and housework from previous years, whereas men have been expanding leisure time and hobbies. in equal-earning households, men spend an average of 3.5 hours extra in leisure time per week, which is 182 hours per year - a little over a week of paid vacation time that the other partner does not receive. kinda sounds like he wants her money.
love that men have decided women are frail and weak and annoying when we scream in surprise but it turns out it's actually women who are more reliable in an emergency because men need to be convinced to actually take action and respond to the threat. like, actually, for-real: men experience such a strong sense of pride about their pre-supposed abilities that it gets them and their families killed. they are so used to dismissing women that it literally kills them.
love it. told my father this and he said there's lies, damned lies, and statistics. a year ago i tried to get him to evacuate the house during a flash flood. he ignored me and got injured. he has told me, laughing, that he never washes his hands. he has said in the last week that women are just happier when we're cooking or cleaning.
maybe i'm overly nostalgic. but it didn't used to feel so fucking bleak. it used to feel like at least a little shameful to consider women to be sheep. it just feels like the earth is round and we are still having conversations about it being flat - except these conversations are about the most obvious forms of patriarchy. like, we know about this stuff. we've known since well before the 50's.
recently andrew tate tried to justify cheating on his partner as being the "male prerogative." i don't know what the prerogative for the rest of us would be. just sitting at home, watching the slow erosion of our humanity.
5K notes
·
View notes
Bucky pinning you down so you can’t squirm and he’s just sitting inside you while he tortures your clit feeling you clench around him. He makes you cum over and over until he finally cums.
Overstimulation + super soldier stamina = …
- 🍯
Dear God, I know I just don't have it in me to behave during cock-warming. When it comes down to it, I genuinely have no patience at all 😵💫
"You..." Bucky begins, pressing you down onto the bed before gripping your ankles and forcing you to flip over onto your front. "Have a problem with control."
With your face turned away from him, you can't help but smile to yourself. No one has ever said it out loud but you know he's right.
Being in control is where you're most comfortable. No hands are safer than your own. Except maybe his. You know he won't fuck this up.
"And you..." He continues, gathering your wrists behind your back, holding them tightly with one hand. "Need to learn how it feels to have control taken from you. Do you understand?"
As soon as you begin to nod your head, you feel him start to tape around your wrists, holding them together behind your back. Once he's content they're secure, he sits on the edge of the bed, facing the mirror before he pulls you onto his lap.
"Legs spread over the top of mine." He orders and you do as you're told, not because you have to but because you want to.
You notice the way your cunt is already glistening in the mirror and you're almost embarrassed because he hasn't even touched you yet.
"Fuck, you're made for this." He groans, lining his cock up to your slick entrance and you wonder if he's holding his breath too while he slides into you, as deep as your bodies will allow.
You're obsessed with the sight in front of you; your own naked body, with your legs spread so far apart you can see how your cunt is stuffed full of him.
Being shorter though, your feet can't touch the ground like this. There's no way you'll get enough leverage to fuck yourself on him but as soon as you start to tell him that, he silences you with two thick fingers between your lips.
"I'm not letting you fuck me." His free hand roams over your body, squeezing your breasts, pinching your nipples and then settling between your spread thighs.
"I'm going to play with you. I'm going to see how much you can take. I'm going to work out exactly how you like your clit stroked and I'm going to do that until your legs are shaking and your body won't let you cum any more. Maybe then I'll fuck you but sweetheart, that will be hours from now." His breath is hot against the side of your face, his fingers slipping from your mouth to your waist while he starts to flick gently against your clit.
"I'm going to start slowly. I'm going to do everything I can to drag this out as long as possible. I can feel every clench and flutter of this pretty little cunt and I'm going to enjoy it until you're dripping over my balls." At this rate, it won't be long until you're dripping onto the carpet, never mind over him. You dreamed he'd want to take control like this but you never imagined the way your body would respond.
"And then, when you've cum more times than you can handle, I'm going to tell you that I love you while I fuck you like I don't."
Update: Part 2
5K notes
·
View notes