why you piece of shit

One maladaptive coping mechanism that turns very toxic when you’re not defending against abuse is to read any uncomfortable situation as a deliberate personal attack, and sometimes extrapolate one incident into a whole pattern of malicious intent.

Examples:

  • “Hey, I have a headache, could you please lower your voice a little?”
    - “FINE I guess I just won’t say anything at all!”

  • “Hey thanks for inviting me, but I’m not feeling well, so I’m sorry but I can’t make it. Maybe (x day) instead?”
    - “Sorry for asking! I guess I’m just too needy for you!”

  • (Someone forgets to call you back.)
    - “Yeah I don’t think we’re friends anymore, she acts like she hates me.”

  • “Hey, what you just said about me was literally not true. Why did you say that?”
    - “Right, I’m just a piece of shit who should never talk at all I guess!”

  • "I don’t really feel like sex tonight.”
    - “Sorry I’m so repulsive to you!”

  • “You really hurt my feelings. Why did you do that?”
    - ”Go ahead and just break up with me, I know you’ve been wanting to.”

This kind of response escalates an interaction from a two-way conversation about a specific problem into a fight about your own self-worth. Instead of reponding to what’s actually happening or interrogating whether an attack was intended, this response immediately changes the conversation into a defensive argument where the only relevant question is if you’re an okay person that people care about.

Like I get feeling this kind of reaction, I get having a knee-jerk response of fear and shame and self-loathing. Sometimes when you’re feeling vulnerable it is very, very difficult not to read super far into anything negative. Sometimes it just reflects off all your internal fears and amplifies inside of you until a polite “no” feels like everyone you’ve ever liked is telling you they hate you.

But it is possible, with some work, to separate your feelings from your actual knowledge of the situation. It’s possible to feel one thing in your heart and still recognize with your mind that the reality is different. You can learn to notice the difference between someone actually attacking you and something just feeling like an attack because you’re extra vulnerable.

You can also learn not to react based solely on your feelings. You can learn to take another person’s actual words and actions into account and respond based on what you think - not just feel - their intent actually was. That work is as necessary as it is difficult.  

People need to be able to tell you things that aren’t overwhelmingly positive without you making them feel guilty for saying anything and treating their concerns as an attack.

Otherwise, you wind up in a position where they can’t be honest with you. They can’t say no to you, can’t tell you when something you do hurts or scares them, can’t point out worrying things as friends do to take care of each other, can’t bring up their own needs without the conversation devolving into comforting you again.

This habit interacts especially badly with the way many other trauma survivors are terrified of upsetting anyone – when your reaction to them bringing up problems or saying no is consistently disproportionate, they may find it easier to just do what you want even against their own will.

It is possible to deal with those awful feelings and get the comfort you need without resorting to lashing out when you feel bad. It’s okay to be honest about the fact your emotions don’t always line up with reality so people know what you’re going through. It’s okay to just ask for the emotional support you need or for confirmation that they mean what they say.

You may even find that when you make a continuous effort not to treat these uncomfortable experiences as crises, they deescalate and you wind up feeling more secure each time.

Look, this coping mechanism, like many forms of manipulation, is a useful survival tool in the context of an abusive relationship where you really are being attacked insidiously, and where you can’t just ask for comfort and expect to get it. But if you are no longer in that kind of situation, it’s time to reevaluate the usefulness/danger ratio and figure out what other strategies might be better for you and the people you love.

why ship snape with lily when you can remember he hurled racial slurs at her in their fifth year
why ship snape with remus when you can remember he exposed him to the rest of the school and got him fired
why ship snape with anyone when you can remember he’s an abusive piece of shit

Short callout posts for the trolls

Aradia Megido 

Wasn’t in the comic enough. 

Tavros Nitram 

Never actually used his massive horns as a weapon. Like dude, they’re right there.

Sollux Captor

He’s the type of person that you think is doing something important on his computer but he’s looking at furries on troll DeviantArt.

Karkat Vantas 

Treats shitty romcoms as source material for romantic psychology and actually admits to it.

Nepeta Leijon

I don’t have the heart to drag Nepeta, she’s just too good. I’m sorry.

Kanaya Maryam

She takes lipstick lesbian to a whole new level seeing as she literally cuts people in half with her fucking lipstick.

Terezi Pyrope

Didn’t kiss any girls when she if fully capable of kissing every girl in paradox space.

Vriska Serket

The title of this post is “Short callout posts for the trolls” and I don’t think her resume for callouts can be fit into something short.

Equius Zahhak

Apparently dresses in a skimpy maid outfit in public. Keep that shit in the bedroom dude.

Gamzee Makara

Fuck that guy. Do I even have to tell you why? You know why. He’s a piece of shit. Fuck that guy. 

Eridan Ampora 

He’s the most likely Homestuck character to be the “You know I had to do ‘em” guy, let’s be honest. 

Feferi Peixes

So much fucking discourse over how to pronounce her last name. Pie-shees? Piech-ehs? Pixies? Pieces? Fuck dude, we just don’t know.
Leave A Message: Betty Cooper x Jughead Jones

Summary: AU, After a night of heavy drinking, Betty Cooper realizes she’s left a series of revealing messages on her crush and roommate, Jughead Jones’s phone. 

Words: 1,600

Warnings: Mentions of drinking, swearing, sexual dialogue but mostly embarrassing fluff. 

A/N: I’ve edited this myself so I apologize for errors. 


Betty Cooper’s head was pounding. She had made the mistake of going out with her roommates Cheryl Blossom and Veronica Lodge to celebrate the end of finals. Now she was sitting at their kitchen island cradling a cup of coffee, trying to figure out if IHOP delivered.

“Good Morning!” Cheryl sang as she skipped into the kitchen and poured herself a cup of coffee. Her luscious red was piled up on top of her head and her skin was glowing. She looked like an angel not someone who had partied hard the night before. “How are you?” She asked Betty.

“I’m so hungover” Betty groaned resting her head on her arms. “I’ve never been this hungover.”

“Yeah, you really shouldn’t have done all those shots of Liquid Cocaine.” Cheryl chuckled and began taking out a few frying pans. “You want some bacon and eggs?” She asked.

“I do!” Veronica answered, her silk black robe trailing behind her matching her beautiful black hair. She walked up to Cheryl and gave her a soft kiss. Cheryl and Veronica had been dating since before they had left Riverdale and their relationship was goals.

“How are you guys not hungover?” Betty asked.

“We didn’t do three shots of tequila and then perform a Coyote Ugly style dance on the bar. You drank so much you should be dead.” Veronica informed.

“I wish I was dead.” Betty said sliding off her stool and laid on the floor. “The tile is so cold. I love the tile.”

“You’ve seen better days, Cooper.” Jughead Jones exited his bedroom from the other side of the loft and sat in the stool Betty just occupied. Jughead was Betty’s fourth and final roommate and she had developed a deep crush on him since the four of  them had moved from Massachusetts to California for school.  

Jughead had blossomed in the sunshine state. He had taken up surfing and gotten a tan, transforming himself into a ripped golden god. Whatever girls didn’t like about his moodiness in Riverdale, they loved here. Betty hated that she didn’t make a move sooner and now that he was bedding Californian goddesses, she knew she didn’t stand a chance.

“Oh god.” She muttered rolling onto her back. She was so dehydrated she could hear herself blinking. She focused on Jughead messy mop of black hair when he appeared above her.

“Up we go.” He said lifting her into the sitting position. “Take these,” he dropped two extra strength Advil in her palm. “And drink the entire glass.” He instructed.

She did as she was told and steadied herself against him when she stood up. “I need to go back to sleep.”

“Yes, you do.” Jughead agreed walking her back to her room. “Do you need to use the washroom?” He asked.

“I’m not a child, Jug.” Betty snapped.

“Oh, I’m sorry, were you not just rolling around on the floor moaning?” He cocked an eyebrow and helped her into bed. She got underneath the covers and he tucked her in. “Get more rest, you’re gonna need it.” He winked and left her room, closing her door.

Her brow furrowed at her choice of words but she was too tired to give it much more thought than that.

She woke up at 3 in the afternoon feeling much better. Still hungover but manageable. She stumbled out into the living room and found Jughead reading a book. “There she is!” He exclaimed. “I got more Advil out and grabbed some water. There is some left over Thai from lunch in he fridge if you are hungry.”

Betty grabbed the Advil, headed over to the kitchen and began heating up her food. Once the Thai was nice and hot she made way back over to the couch.

“Are you feeling better?” He asked not looking up from his book.

“Mmmm” She answered with a mouth full of food.

“Do you remember anything from last night?” He questioned.

She shook her head. “Not really.”

“So you don’t remember dancing on the bar?” He inquired.

She shook her head.

“You don’t remember leading the whole bar in a rendition of ‘Come On Eileen’?”

“How do you know this? You weren’t even there”

“Cheryl was sending me videos.” He paused. “Do you remember making a phone call?”

“It’s 2018, Juggie, no one makes phone calls anymore.” She rolled her eyes and took a gulp of her water.

“You sure about that?” He asked again.

“I haven’t spoken on a phone in like two years.”

Jughead took out his cell, began scrolling and finally pushed a button. He held it up so they could both hear it.

“Jughead, mother fucking, Jones.” Betty’s gravelly drunken voice rasped out of the phone.

Her eyes widened and she started choking on her food.

“You fucking idiot with your stupid hat and your stupid attitude and your stupid face like you don’t know how amazing you are. Well, I guess you kinda do now with that revolving bevy of girls in our apartment all the time. And what is wrong with me huh? I’m hot, I’ve had six guys hit on me tonight. Six!”

She heard herself yell through the phone and she buried her head in her arms. “No, no, no.” She repeated over and over again.

“I’m smart too and my personality is okay, so what’s your problem Jughead, huh? I’ve been told that my vagina is like, the actual best. Like, what do I need to do? I guess there is a possibility that you aren’t interested in me but I’m the tits so why wouldn’t you be.” She paused. “Another thing, you actual piece of shit-” She was cut off and he lowered the phone.

“Please tell me I didn’t call you back.” She asked, looking at him through her fingers.

He was smirking and she wanted to smack him. “That was the first of fifteen messages. My favorite was how you told me that you obsess over how big my penis is but it’s probably just normal size and that you should stop worrying about it because this isn’t a romance novel.” He chuckled.

She made a whiny, crying sound, her face burning hot.

He didn’t say anything like she expected. She expected him to tease her, she expected him to tell her that they were friends but their relationship wouldn’t be anything more than that but he didn’t. She felt his weight on the couch beside her. “Why didn’t you tell me?” He asked.

“Would it made a difference if I did?”

“Uh, yeah, kind of a big difference, do you know how you appear to others? Do you know how intimidating you are?” His voice was soft and sincere.

“What are you talking about?” She snapped, rubbing her temples.

“You’re beautiful, smart and funny. You make everything seem so effortless, you should date an architect or something.”

“Why is everyone so obsessed with architects?” She moaned, falling back into the cushions of the sofa.

Jughead sighed. “Betty, did you ever think about just asking me out?”

She threw him some serious side eye. “Oh yeah Jug, I’ll just walk up to you and be like, ‘Hey, I know we’ve known each other forever and I’ve ignored you for most of it but now that you’re all hot and dating models and shit, you wanna go out on a date?’” She scoffed.

“Okay.” He replied.

“What?” She sat up quickly, wincing when he head throbbed.

“I’ll go out with you.”

“Why? You date hipster girls who wear glasses they don’t need and are way too big for their face. You date girls who always look good in a romper, always have perfect Coachella hair and eat avocado toast everyday. I go days without showering, I’ve slept in the library more than once, I’ve dropped a McDonalds hamburger on the ground and still ate it because I had spent my last dollar on it and it was all I could eat for 17 hours until I got paid. Last night I threw up in my hamper-”

Jughead cut her off with a kiss. Betty was taken aback by the sudden gesture and it took her body a moment to relax and really accept what was happening. Betty had fantasized about this moment every night for months. What he would smell like, what he was taste like, how he would feel. He tasted like the cinnamon tic tacs he was always eating, spicy and sweet. He smelled like clean laundry, the sea and coconuts from using the girls shampoo all the time. Betty ran her hands through his hair bringing him closer to her. His body was hard and muscular and he pushed it against her, his skin warm and tan and so different from what she expected.

He parted from her, a smile on his face. “I’ve wanted to do that for a long time.”

“Liar.” Betty whispered, her eyes still closed.

“Betty, I’ve had a thing for your since the ninth grade.” He admitted, kissing her again.

“Do you want to take this into the bedroom?” She cooed running her hands over his chest.

“No, Bets.”

Her head jerked back. “What? Why? You take all these girls to bed and not me?”

“Betty, you aren’t all girls, you’re the girl.” He smiled and kissed her again.

She smiled back. “Can you please, for the love of god, delete all the messages I left you.”

“Um, absolutely not, this shit belongs in the MOMA.” He took out his phone. “Prepare yourself for message number two.”

*Joker misses an attack*
Morgana: come on man I know you can do better.
*Ann misses an attack*
Morgana: Lady Ann don’t disappoint me now.
*Ryuji misses an attack*
Morgana: You stupid fucking idiot, I fucking hate you, I fucking hate you stupid blonde hair, I fucking hate your stupid mind, I fucking hate your shrimp dick, why haven’t you died yet you piece of shit scumbag, I hope you fucking die like the degenerate scum that you are.

Punk (Chap. 7)

Originally posted by miamirasmus

Summary: You’re head over heels for your best friend Bucky and hate the nickname he gave you as it doesn’t exactly scream romance.

Word count: 2510

Warnings: Same as always

A/N: Thank you for all of the feedback again I’m completely blown away.  Sorry that tags have been finicky, not sure what tumblr’s deal is lately.  I hope you like this chapter, thanks for sticking around!



The crisp, cold air outside the club was a welcoming relief but did little to halt the burning tears cascading down your cheeks or the hot waves of mortification and shame radiating out from deep within your very being.  The cold air bit at your nose and throat as you allowed yourself to suck in great gulps in attempts to keep the impending panic attack at bay.

This can’t be happening, this wasn’t supposed to happen.  Ethan stood at the curb, attempting to hail a cab while you toiled over your interaction with Bucky.  This wasn’t like how it was in the movies.  Wasn’t Bucky supposed to be completely awestruck with your transformation? Shouldn’t he have been at a loss for words? Instead he was completely taken aback for all the wrong reasons. He’d looked at you with utter confusion, probably wondering what the hell you were doing in a dress, wearing makeup, sporting heels, like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing…and he didn’t like it at all.

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Riei Stellaworth Short Story Translation

[The Little Mermaid]

(。-ω-)ノ  Sorry for the long moment of inactivity, folks! School got really busy. but I’m back in business now (yay summer) and I’ll be posting a lot more translations!

щ(ಥДಥщ) This guy is such a damn piece of work, my gawd hahahah.  MY GAWD THIS STORY. щ(ಥДಥщ)  HE’S SOOOO. TRASHY. щ(ಥДಥщ)  AGHAGA RIEIIII. I’ll be translating them in order of the original CD releases. Special thanks to Deea for getting the raws~



The storm caused me to fall from the ship I was aboard. Death was impending; my body was sinking towards the ocean’s floor. I was destined to drown… …until a girl appeared out of nowhere. She held my body and navigated the ocean’s waters with such ease, as if a storm hadn’t exist. Upon arriving at the shore, the girl whispered to me.



“Oh dear prince, you’re safe now.”



Her voice was as lovely as a bell’s ring. My condition wasn’t so good. Having drunk a bunch of salty seawater, I found myself barely able to move. Though, I managed to open my eyes and they would see who owned that lovely voice――Opened they did and saw clearly did they. The girl. Her legs. She didn’t have the legs of a human being. My rescuer was a mermaid.



There was a sign of a person approaching, causing the mermaid to rush back into the sea. A different girl came to help me. At the time, I was delirious and thought she was the one who saved me. I then became engaged to her.



Well, I thought it was all in good. Not only did I have a fiance, but I could also play around. My palace could only give me so much amusement and what’s a man to do when there’s plenty of beautiful women around? Even if I’ll be married, no matter how much I played around with girls, not a single person had an issue with it.


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