Bad Thoughts
this was a thought exercise I did but the language was so whumpy I had to share it. Characters are OCs from an ongoing story of mine. A little over 1k
cws: self loathing, domestic whump vibes, alcoholic whumper, parental whumper vibes, angel whumpee, demon whumpee, verbal abuse, first person whumper
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Sometimes i feel like an alcholic mom with her kids. I love them, more than anything, but many times I get violent and turn on them.
Asa cant ever be bad. The world wouldn’t let him. If he burned a house down, the audience would find a way to praise him, frame it a a misunderstood act of kindness driven from the depths of his heart. His very ability to choose evil is taken from him because we all know, we all know, that he’s good. Having a sweet smile is the most powerful plot armor one could have bc no one would stand to see him get hurt. It’d be too upsetting, so sheltered he is. Reaping the benefits, never the scars.
He’s a right proper protagonist through and through, just skirting the line of not being a self insert. The success of the story rides on him, and I won’t let him forget it. He’s a well worn younger sibling trained in the art of using his charms to protect his friends.
Leif (and extenuating extensions) can handle anything. He can endure the most bizarre, suggestive, violent, freaky shit. Why? Because he’s the soft quiet ('tismed, rather) white boy. I can do anything to him and people will find it hot, cute, sexy, or whumpee coded.
To a point, I guess. I still find the need to sanitize his violence. It can’t be something too proactive. He can’t really be violent, no matter how badly he wants to act out. His role in the world is to be a battered misunderstood victim, unable to truly resist, only to cry out meekly. No, not meekly, but prettily. He’s pretty when he’s bleeding, and that’s what the audience loves. His pain triggers the desire for them to hug, to console, to protect.
Not like Paris. Paris’ pain triggers revulsion, disgust, discomfort. It doesnt make the readers want to engage, it makes them want to back away, to escape the unpleasant rocky sensations. So Paris is bad. Because Paris makes people want to leave the story. Paris is a demon. Paris is something weird and twisted and lovely in his infuriating ways that I can’t express. I can’t defend him to the audience the way I can the others. I have ways those children behave to make them feel loved. To make me feel loved.
Paris isnt pretty when he’s bleeding. He screams and thrashes and sobs and fights and yells. So i beat him. I beat him and beat him because I hate him for hurting my chances, for holding back the others, with his stupid stupid pain. And his stupid face and his stupid grin. The story could be done if it wasnt for him, but he threw off the story for two years.
And now he’s silent. He’s silent when he’s hurt. And I hate him for that. It makes me want to hurt Leif instead, bc at least Leif is pretty. The audience wants a show. If you’re silent when you're hurt, then they’re angry. they’re discontent.
"Being silent isn't pretty." I tell him "You need to cry."
"They don't deserve to see me cry."
"Cry for me then," I demand, "Cry so i know you’re still something i can break. If I can’t even justify keeping you for torment then i really will have to kill you."
They would cry. His friends. I know they would. Or be angry. Either one. They would miss him. THey can be as angry as they want to be at home, but out there, they’ll smile, damn it. They’ll smile and cry in their pretty ways because that’s what the people love. Because the people want to comfort, not to deal with pain.
And the people love a quick happy ending, with all the darkest parts of the image blotted with sandpaper and white out. Your pain is there, but it doesnt bear too much remarking upon, because it’s couched in glitter and soft blankets and muffled whimpers. What matters is your friendship, your unbreakable bond. That fixes everything, doesnt it?
If the audience doesn't linger to look at the broken bone, the blood pooling on the floor in the corner of the room, then it’s as if it never really happened.
They try to stop me when I beat him. So I just scream then. But I want him to know I could hurt him, I can, at any time.
And he wonders why I falter when he offers to be dead.
Leif gets angry. I can feel it. He wants more. He hates being the broken one. He mustn’t know how broken paris is, then.
Why haven’t I spoken about Raoul?
SImply because he understands his role and executes it perfectly. SO well in fact, he hardly feels like my child, but rather a peer, a friend helping over to corral my stubborn brats. He’s the perfect angel, and I can’t thank him enough for that. So I don’t. We don’t need to, because he understands that.
I dont think he approves of the amount of corporal punishment i use on Paris. Or how i yell at all of them. But like most of his emotions, he expresses his disapproval mostly through silence. I can see it in his eyes now and then, and I think he gets the urge to say something. He holds back, though.
I think if I struck leif or asa he would act. I won’t test it. I have no reason to strike any of them.
They hate it when I hurt Paris. Leif has yelled at me for it, once, I think. Asa too, maybe? But like raising his voice, as someone trying to play diplomat. Because he’s the good kid, he knows I might listen to him more. They don’t understand because he’s their friend, so why am I hurting him? And I feel bad for that, but I can’t explain to them that their affection for him isnt enough to justify his existence. Or to keep him in their world.
Paris is the thing I’ve never understood, and we’re always afraid of what we don’t understand.
Raoul is someone i’ve never fully understood. but i dont need to. He’s not my child, he’s a friend. We have our secrets, and I’m okay with that. I understand him as much as he needs me to, and I belive he feels the same about me. Maybe that’s why he doesnt argue when I’m yelling at the others, he recognizes there’s things he doesnt understand, things he’s not privy to, things he’s not supposed to see.
I tell myself that I understand leif and Asa, while putting them in boxes. I say with certainty this is who they are, while they’re shouting at me that its what they’re not. That there’s more to them, and i’m not listening
"When did you become so cold?" they ask
"Since i met the world. You would do the same, if you could understand how harsh and bitter it is."
They disagree, they talk louder.
I don’t listen.
I have to make us happy. And that means the world will tear deeper and deeper into our home until they have deemed us worthy of joy
we can’t make each other happy anymore. it’s not good enough.
I throw the bottle. I don’t aim for any of them, not even paris. i’m just angry, and tired.
I'm a shitty mom
But at least they have a space in the world to go, someday. i worked damn hard for that, for two of my kids to find happiness. Then my own life won’t have been a waste.
And paris? Well, someone has to carry the brunt of the abuse to the next generation. If someone in the family had to fail, it might as well be him.
