#anyways it's not that i'm unhappy with my life atm. things are fine! i like my major at uni and i made a friend there too!

[tcookies777]

I’ve been reading your posts and reblogs.

Are you okay?

I'm getting flooded with Asks and messages atm so I'm sorry to say that I don't know when you submitted this Ask!

If by okay, you mean the reblogs from yesterday - I'm pretty fine actually. I'm at that age now where you kind of... to be blunt, don't give a fuck because you learn not to take the words of strangers to heart.

The reason why I still do speak up for myself though (instead of staying quiet) is because I want to nip these conflicts and issues in the bud even if it means being strict. I don't want the problem to grow out of hand. I've been writing for over 10 years now and this is not my first rodeo.

With my 1st rodeo though, I was that young and naive writer who stayed quiet. I tried to please every single reader. I bowed down and apologized to the readers who complained I wasn't updating fast enough. I begged for patience and forgiveness whenever I had to put the fic on hiatus. I tried to fulfill every request and demand that every reader threw at me.

And the abuse and entitlement grew. Because I was stupid enough to feed it. Because I had wanted to keep everyone pleased 24/7. I didn't want to piss anyone off and I was afraid of losing readers. And when I decided to put my foot down because I couldn't handle being treated like I was less than human, I was harassed for it. And when I fought back against the harassment, I was portrayed as the villain.

"People are going to say negative things about your story anyway, and if you can't handle that then you shouldn't write. You do that, or you shut up and write," a reader had once told me.

And because I was young and stupid, I believed her.

And that belief became my principle in real life.

And one day, when I was in school, I saw a boy getting bullied. The bullies were throwing milk and condiments to stain his clothes, and the boy looked unhappy but remained silent. It was 1 against 3, after all. And I watched the bullying happening literally 3 feet away in front of me, and even though I wanted to step in and speak up for that boy, all I could think of was that reader's words. All I could think of was: People are going to bully others regardless, and if the victim can't handle it then they're weak.

So I stayed quiet.

Around that time, I was reading a fic and I noticed a writer was being harassed. Readers were demanding quicker updates, they were demanding that she reveal her sexual orientation, they spread rumors that she was lying about her ethnicity, they were ""criticizing" her story when actually they were just trying to manipulate her into writing the story they want, they were complaining about the plot when actually they just had a gross misunderstanding of the story's direction, etc etc. Literally, none of the criticism she received was actual, genuine criticism. It was just insults and pointless complaints with the "criticism" label slapped on top. Some readers even befriended her but only because they wanted to have her write a fic for them (they thought a friendship with her would give them an advantage).

She tried to appease them at first. Tried to laugh off their snide remarks and respond to their disrespect with kindness.

And because she stayed quiet against the abuse and entitlement, these readers figured they could keep it up. So they continued, and her mental health deteriorated until one day that writer snapped and quit the fic and quit writing for good.

And the whole time I watched this drama unfold as one of her readers, I never spoke up for her. Just as I never spoke up for that kid who was being bullied.

It's been 10 years since then. To this day, I deeply regret not speaking up for those people. I deeply regret being too afraid of conflict. I deeply regret being a bystander back then.

But a few years ago, an older writer enlightened me with some advice. He said, "Yes, there will always be people who are going to be jackasses to you. It's the Internet, duh! But that doesn't mean you need to put up with that shit. The reader has the power to curate their fanfic reading experience... and so does the writer too. "

And that was the moment I realized I am sick of being a bystander. I am sick of staying quiet. I am sick of enabling people and/or trying to please them all the time. I am sick of bending over backwards out of fear of disappointment or conflict.

That was the moment I decided I am going to speak up from now on. I will not tolerate this any longer.

So yes, I am fine for the most part. Many of you guys have been incredibly kind and supportive. But I will continue to stand my ground when I need to and if I need to be harsh when doing it then so be it. I've seen firsthand how being too kind and a people pleaser all the time sometimes just welcomes more abuse, more insults, more entitlement. Because it's from behind the screen, some people don't care that the fanfic writer providing them free entertainment is a real human being.

#cookie answers #a cookie for me

[novamirmirsblog]

I am not a woman, I'm a God (17+)

If I can't have love I want power pt 2

If I can't have love masterlist

Word Count: 1640

Genre: dark I guess?

Request: no

Warnings: none? (atm anyways)

A/N: I'm not too happy with this chapter so it's subject to change BUT the next couple chapters should pick things up a little :3 OH and the next chapter might contain smut (Idk yet - I'll try to edit this when I've written the next chapter)

1737 - The middle

The revenge was sweet and drawn out. The redhead and her long-time friend had made sure of that. They let you finish the duke off but not before they had their fun. The two women were gorgeous, both with red hair that would make any woman jealous. The green-eyed woman had hair like a wildfire and the blue-eyed woman had hair the colour of a deep red sunset. Liking women was wrong but you weren’t sure these two counted as women – they certainly weren’t human. Wanda, the one with sunset hair, tortured your husband mentally, angry whisps the same colour as Natasha’s hair crawled in through his ears and buried themselves deep within his brain. While this was happening, Natasha was peeling layer after layer of skin off him with her razor-sharp nails. You weren’t sure if you could even call them nails – not when they looked so much more like claws. While Wanda was exploiting your husband’s deepest darkest fears, Natasha was calmly explaining to you which tools to use where so you could cause the most pain. Apparently pain and torture was an aphrodisiac for them because the two demons decided to show you what you had been missing out on due to your husband’s lack of skill.

That was almost 200 years ago. Wanda and Natasha had given you great gifts, allowing you to have a much longer life, giving you cat-like reflexes and godlike powers. Perhaps your favourite was the enhancements they gave to your voice. People were suddenly compelled to do whatever you suggested they do and the rush it gave you was unexplainable. These gifts were not free however and yet the price was one you willingly paid repeatedly. Especially because it meant spending extra time with your two favourite demons. You were there to cause chaos and have fun which was ironic considering Wanda was a chaos demon and Natasha was a succubus but perhaps that’s why you did what you did. Perhaps it was because you were made by them and therefore must serve them in every way imaginable.

~~~~~

You had watched your siblings grow from afar and made sure every single villager who ever even looked at them wrong suffered. When you were with Wanda and Natasha, it felt as if everything just fit into place. It was strange and you felt as if you shouldn’t miss them – they killed and tortured your husband in front of you, gave you gifts that meant you couldn’t live a normal life and coerced you into sex that you weren’t sure you wanted; yet you still wanted them.

Your story was told countless times and the more times it was told, the deeper the truth was twisted into a legend, a tale mothers told their children to keep them away from the forests late at night. You were turned into a martyr, a victim of the horrible cruelties the evil creatures of the world could bestow onto innocent girls.

You were anything but.

If the storytellers could see you now, they would burn all mentions of your story. You were a problem child, a bad example and you had two of the most powerful demons wrapped around your little finger.

A few years ago, you had mentioned to Natasha and Wanda one evening that you were bored. That’s how you found yourself currently being shot at.

“Natty I’m bored.” You whined, throwing yourself dramatically over the bed. History was going through a dry spell; people weren’t doing anything interesting and there weren’t enough opportunities for you to wreak havoc.

“Natty” Wanda mocked “Our princess is bored.”

“Well, we can’t have that now, can we?” Natasha moved to hover over you, Wanda placed your head in her lap. Natasha’s tail flicked with a cat-like manner before it slithered between your legs.

You grabbed her tail and she let out a moan “Not now Natasha. I’m serious. If I knew living forever was going to be this boring, then I wouldn’t have done it.” That wasn’t quite true, you enjoyed being theirs to use but you were getting restless.

Natasha rolled her eyes, leaning up to kiss Wanda instead. You waited a few moments for the two demons to stop their make-out session, but it didn’t look to be ending any time soon. You rolled out from underneath Natasha and untangled Wanda’s fingers from where she was massaging your scalp.

“Awe come back baby.” Wanda broke the kiss and made grabby arms at you. For a supposed demon, she sure was soft. “I promise we’ll make things more fun.”

Natasha rolled her eyes again “You’ve gone soft Wands.” Although Natasha huffed and puffed about how ‘soft’ Wanda had gotten, she seemed to have a slightly less hardened heart when she looked at you.

You were no longer bored but you were being shot at and while it couldn’t kill you, it sure did sting. Perhaps going after Dick Turpin’s loot was a bad idea but what can you say? You wanted to live a little. All you had wanted was a pretty horse you had seen him steal but nooo – he had to keep them all for himself. You had managed to escape Mr Turpin himself but one of his lackeys just wouldn’t give up. Rather than continuing to run, you decided you may as well get a quick meal.

“Hello darling.” Your voice echoed from all around, you watched as the man trying to kill you frantically whipped his head around.

“Who are you? Come out now!”

You let out a low, predatory chuckle.

“I’m the poor little martyr in all your stories.”

“No. You can’t be- that’s impossible! You should be dead!” You watched as the man continued to spin around and around in circles, watching him trip before revealing yourself.

“I am ancient. I have seen empires rise and fall. I have seen kings and queens and holy men enter the world and I have seen them leave; and yet I am nowhere near as old or as powerful as the women who made me the person I am today. While I watched preestablished civilisations crumble, they were reminiscing the time they created them, all while burning them to the ground. Some call me the end but they are mistaken. They are the end. I am your warning. I am the only kindness they will show you. Trivial things such as death do not concern me.” As you finished your speech, Natasha and Wanda’s comforting aura surrounded you, the dark mist embracing you before forming the two women.

“Couldn’t let you have all the fun now could we dove?” Natasha’s voice rumbled out against your neck, biting it lightly.

“You have to share.” Wanda cooed, lifting your chin up to face her as she captured your lips with hers.

The idiot who you were about to kill and feed on decided now was a good time to make their escape. Luckily, Wanda had other plans as her red magic bought the squirming meal back to you.

“Go away. I want to eat. It’s been so long.” You pouted, making your way back to your meal. It was a little annoying that to continue living in your young body that you had to drain the soul from another person, but it was worth it.

“But if we leave then who’s going to do all the heavy lifting?”

“And who will dig the hole in your garden?”

“Or put the body in the hole?”

“Or-”

“Okay! I get it. Fine. But just hush, okay? I like to eat in peace.” You grabbed the man and kissed him hard, feeling his soul merge with yours before it was consumed by the darkness.

“I don’t know why you always have to kiss them to feed” Natasha bit out, moving away from you with Wanda, voicing her unhappiness at you kissing someone else when only she should be kissing you- her and maybe Wanda.

“Well, it wasn’t me who made her feed that way.” Wanda whispered back

“Are you suggesting this is my fault?” Natasha’s voice got low and dangerous, and you felt the forest drop about 10 degrees.

“Well that’s how you feed isn’t it?” Wanda’s eyes glowed and a wind picked up.

You pulled away from your meal, the faint glow of his soul swirling around your mouth and eyes. “Want to share?” The forest rose back to its original temperature and climate as Natasha kissed you, absorbing small remnants of the soul. Wanda wrapped one arm around your waist while the other snaked up to your neck, her teeth lightly biting and sucking along your shoulders.

“I think you forget dove” Natasha broke the kiss to growl at you

“We’re in charge here. If we wanted to share, then we would share.” Wanda finished off for her.

It dawned on you that perhaps this was about more than just the meal. They were jealous.

“Are you two jealous?” You laughed, not at the situation but at their reactions. Wanda bit you harder and Natasha just glared at you.

“Of course not. Why would we be jealous of some silly insignificant dum-”

“Baby…” You reached up and placed one hand lightly on Wanda’s horn and the other on Natasha’s cheek, effectively stopping Natasha’s rant about how unjealous they are. Wanda moved from where she was standing behind you to stand next to Natasha. “You both know that if I could live off Demon energy then I would, but I can’t.”

Natasha and Wanda shared a look, having a silent conversation in the space of seconds before turning their attention back to you. “That’s not necessarily true love.” Wanda said.

“It will be painful but…well demons aren’t born. They’re made.” Natasha explained.

“And if you wanted to…”

You didn’t even hesitate before giving your answer. “Yes.”

Taglist:

@lucydiibi

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