• Member Since 17th Feb, 2016
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Dark Chocolate

Converting daydreams into stories helps me pretend to be human.

Latest Stories


How To Deal With Writer's Anxiety · 9:37pm May 31st, 2016

I'm writing this as a note to my future self.
I keep doing this thing, where I'll get an idea for a story, start working on it, then see someone else with the same story and it has a ton of views, and upvotes, and comments. I'll get this horrible anxiety wave, where I feel like what I'm writing isn't going to be good enough, that it's not going to be able to compete with that other story, that I'll just look like a poor attempt at copying it.

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The Stages of Bronyhood by Dark Chocolate · 7:59am Jun 12th, 2016

This is a small entry I wrote for how MLP changed my life. It includes the stages of becoming a hardcore fan.

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About Me

I write a lot of different genres, but I'd have to say my favorites are either dark adventures with romance, or clop fics. Comedy comes in at a close 3rd.

The names Tim, I'm 28, in good old Colorado. I have this wonderful disorder called DAYDREAMING ALL THE GOD DAMN TIME that I've recently channeled into stories. Favorite pony is Luna because I guess I'm a sucker for tortured souls. Anything else, just ask. If you wanna know a bunch of really shocking horrible shit, feel free to scroll down past the comments and have yourself a look, I'm not shy.

I'm an idealist where I honestly think the world could be at peace. I'd love it if the world could be just like Equestria. I'm easy to talk to, but keep in mind I have PTSD so I have a lot of off days. I totally understand social anxiety or being socially awkward, so don't be afraid to say hi.

My writing style aims to not just tell you a story, but make you feel it, for better or worse. I want your cheeks to glow red with embarrassment when my character screws up something stupid. I want you to tear up when my character sobs about their horrible past. I want your jaw to drop in awe when my characters tell their crush how they feel. I want your hands in the air when my character finally gets their chance to be the badass they were always meant to be.

I have a decent vocabulary, but I seldom use it. I don't see the point in having a big fancy word that half the readers won't understand, when a more simple version will work. That being said, I want as much variety in word usage as possible: it's a tricky rope to walk.


Heading out · 1:54am Jan 22nd, 2023

As many of you suggested, why not just leave my account up and stop logging in, so that's what I'm doing.

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Report Dark Chocolate · 300 views · Story: King of the Dead ·

My main story: King of the Dead

King of the Dead: Expect a new chapter every week on friday. I lived in a world ravaged by wars of all types for nearly 200 years. Battle was all I knew. Then in one flash, my nation was teleported to a strange land, along with our most hated enemy, the Og Nag. How can I, a captain in the vile King’s army, possibly find my place in a land so peaceful, that was about to be thrown into an apocalypse? I'm torn between the part of me that has known nothing but violence, and the call of freedom and peace. Equestria may be our new home for now, but we’ll die before we let it become our past.

What it's about
It's about a warrior who comes from a world full of violence and war. A few hundred years ago, large purple orbs appeared in the sky, and dropped to the ground, creating unheard of destruction enough to level cities. After that day, all nations lived in paranoia, and took up arms. Upon discovering certain magical technology, his King hordes it as a last resort. Upon destroying the orb thinking it's a bomb, their entire city is teleported to Equestria along with their most notorious enemy the Og Nag. Only about 250 units come with the city, as it was in the middle of a brutal siege they were losing.
How will a warrior born in the fires of war, cope with the most peaceful realm in all existence being his new home?
Will Equestria last when thrown into a full scale war at the drop of a hat with the Og Nag?
Does Celestia know anything about the orbs?
Why are the Og Nag, a race known for mindless violence and tactics, suddenly becoming smarter and showing signs of having personalities?

What Inspired the Story
This is going to sound odd, but I started having mad anxiety attacks. I'd suddenly get the feeling that characters from MLP were judging me, and it drove me mad. Like I'd get angry and hit a desk, then I'd feel like Cadence was judging me for it and I'd feel guilty, then suddenly remember SHE'S NOT GOD DAMN REAL! Don't get me wrong, they weren't hallucinations, it was just an odd emotional cave I was in. This continued, changing from character to character, driving me insane.

I tried cutting out MLP completely, and it did almost nothing. The smallest thing would remind me of an Equestria Girls movie, episode or song. So I tried overdosing on MLP. I listening to the soundtrack of Rainbow Rocks for three shifts at work, all day long. No luck, didn't even make a dent.

It got to the point where I was about to pay out of pocket for a therapist cause I couldn't take it anymore. I talked to a friend of mine, Livvy, and she suggested doing some writing. I was opposed at first, because "Self insert characters" were WAY beneath me. She informed me that they're actually very therapeutic and aren't necessarily meant to be the most original ideas. Out of options and patience, I started writing. I wrote down every little fantasy that crawled into my head, every plot point, every scene.

Before long, my character had gone from me, to their own person, their own ideas, their own flukes, everything. My brain started cranking out backstory, and curve balls. I had done plenty of writing but I had never finished anything honestly. Slowly but surely, what started as a story that would never see the light of day, became one of my favorite works. I wrote scenes that would bring you to tears, that would wrench on your heart strings, scenes that would make you roll your eyes and smile, or make your eyes water as past wounds were healed.

Jack Stone

Jack Stone
The names Jack Stone
Solver of over 100 crimes.
Bad guys eliminated: 121
Cars destroyed: 69
Total arrests: 1
Total civilian casualties: Not my god damn problem.
Jack Stone is both the best and worst super cop. Casting aside such silly things as collateral damage and civilian casualties, he catches (or rather kills) the bad guys left and right, no matter how many times Cadence punches him in the crotch.
His morals are awful, his comebacks are even more awful, and his grammar is....actually ok.
Step in to a world
Where the 4th wall curls up into a ball and cries like a bitch.
Where one moment things are all bright and sunny, then Jack Stone shows up and ruins everything in the name of justice!
Where I abusing the "tab" key like a Russian whore.
Ever wanna read something that is the complete totality of just not giving a damn comedy?
Jack Stone is exactly that.

Are there confusing plot holes and continuity errors? Yes.
Is there randomness and an utter lack of focus? Definitely.
Do you miss johnny Bravo? Of course you do.

So in all seriousness, Jack Stone was a character I played in a small video series with a friend of mine. The idea is for Jack to be a parody of every super cop movie/series. I've studied many cliches and tropes, and out came Jack Stone.

Will add more chapters later if this gets enough feedback, so hit that thumbs up for me please!
Best comments about Jack Stone:
"The FUCK Kinna crazy shit did I just read?..."
"Jack Stone: the maniacal cross between Horatio Caine, a 90's cop, and that one kid down the street who's probably insane but doesn't admit it...
...I see no problems with this guy's logic for solving a crime."
"His existence offends me..."
"you really don't give two fucks about a plot do you?..."
"Jack Stone is the reason my romantic night with Pinkie Pie happened."

Nikky Fabulous Series

Rule 34 series

Comments ( 125 )
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I'm doing alrighty, just bored and chatty, lol

Hellz yeah, how are you?

Going through shit does that to you lol

Wow, reading your About Me, I am very surprised you are younger than me. I mean no offense by it, it's just you come off as an older and wiser sort.

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My Dark Box Of Secrets

If there's one thing i love it's a big box full of horrible dark secrets. This is mine and for the record: you've been warned. No seriously, walk away, you want none of this.

They call me Superman.

So I’ll start with 4th grade because it’s the beginning. I was the fat kid. Every class has one. The one all the girls make fun of. Ya that was me. I still get anxiety when talking to girls sometimes, and it unfortunately makes me come across as awkward and creepy. I’m honestly a nice, unthreatening guy but apparently I just give off that nasty vibe. It didn’t help that I had a crush on this girl Elycia from 2nd grade all the way until my sophomore year of highschool, so I was never really geared towards how to..approach women.
So let me tell you about Geoff, this oaf that I’m unfortunately related to. He’s my brother, although he’s never been anything close. Basically what he did was not just “being a big brother” as everyone has tried to tell me. He would get bullied at school then come home and take it ALL out on me. He’d hit me, call me names, convince me no one loved me, and any time I was proud of anything I built or made, he destroyed it. He was the epitome of my self esteem issues. My mom tried to discipline him, but she’s a tiny lady. She was also in denial about just how bad it was. We ended up talking a few years ago and she laid it all out. It meant the damn world to me.
And my dad? Well Geoff would tone it down like 75% when my dad came home. Try as he might, my dad just couldn’t break Geoff of his shitty behavior. So Geoff finally tells my dad he’s getting bullied. So my dad takes Geoff to go learn Jiu Jitsu. Now I have no idea if it got resolved or not, all I knew was that Geoff was even more unstoppable now.
So skip ahead: it’s 5th grade and I’ve entered the phase where I’m angry almost all the time. I destroyed some stuff at school and got expelled. Well that’s a massive issue for me because it’s right after that, I realize I have no clue how to make new friends because I’ve had the same ones since 2nd grade. So 5th grade, Loma Linda, not too bad.
But 6th grade? All aboard the suck train mares and gentlecoats.So this school is what happens when you dump a poor curiculum, an apathetic administtration, and kids who just...don;’t get it and have no real dsicipline.
So here’s my day in 6th grade:
Stand outside the school, waiting for them to open, and praying Jeremiah didn’t see me, which never happened because I was twice as large as everyone else. So Jeremiah was the kid who always got in fights, and I was usually his punching bag just like when I go home every day.
Geoff had done a fantastic job of driving into my head that I was pathetic and worthless so I never fought back. On a good day, I’d get a timid, weakass slap in...usually one. On a bad day, Jeremiah would chase me down through the halls, rather effortlessly, and make me eat whatever random thing he had found outside. And if I didn’t? He’d drag me into the bathroom and make me give him a blowjob. Ya, I was homosexually raped a few times as well. Aren’t you just feeling the warm rays of shining happiness right about now? I really wish i could tell you things picked up after this….but they didn’t, they really didn’t.
So one day, I snap. Jeremiah corners me in the gym, with the P.E. Teacher in the next room over, messing around with another teacher. Jeremiah’s favorite word for me was “faggot” which i always found a bit ironic. So anyways, he starts making fun of me, and WAM, I hit him upside the head with a metal pipe that was in the midst of all the gym equipment in the corner.
So did Jeremiah leave me alone? You bet your ass he did, but his friends sure as hell didn’t. I almost preferred the rape at that point. They’d corner me in the bathroom every chance they got, and would group shank me with #2 pencils. Luckily they weren’t sharp but they still hurt like hell. It got so bad that I actually let myself pee my pants in class. And I’m sure you’re asking “Why didn’t he go to the teachers or his parents?” Weeeeeeeell I tried. The staff sighed with annoyance and told em they’d handle it, but never did. And unfortunately I had started lying a lot to my parents, and they knew. I mean I was worthless and uninteresting so why would the truth matter? So i lied a lot. And of course when i told my parents they didn’t believe me. I never thought of showing them the bruises and they never asked.
So the second wonderful part of my day after this? Go home and have Geoff do a full repeat. So naturally I developed some serious issues. Now at this point in our story, 6th grade through 8th, two extremely important things happen, so I’ll start with the lesser of two evils.
I get through Heritage BARELY. I mean I still hate using public bathrooms. So I end up going back to TPCA for 7th grade. Yay! I get to see all my old friends and things will go back to normal...right? No, sorry. I get back, and everyone’s happy to see me, with a few people acting kinda...weird towards me. I was friends with all the popular kids….WAS. So when I go to sit with them...there's literally no room, and my excessive size didn’t help me squeeze in. So not really having anyone else to talk to, I sit at the only empty table, facing the wall, and acting like i didn’t care. On the inside however, I was dying. My slogan through Heritage was “Just a little longer and I’ll be back at TPCA!” Yeeeaaahhh no. Some other loaners slowly showed up at my table and we became friends. I mean I was still the funny goofy kid who made people laugh and smile.
Right quick: So like 2nd through 5th grade, all us boys kinda picked on this great kid named Kris. I'm not proud of it. We'd make fun of him, or shove him or whatever. At the time, I couldn't empathize with him. If I had known he felt as bad as I did, we woulda been besties. So I get a taste of it in 6th, I come back in 7th. Well, Kris was now one of the kids who joined our outcast table. One day at recess, Kris is being bullied. Now knowing how it feels, I stand up for him. My "former" friends get mad at me. Of course at this point like...what the fuck do I care? You assholes already abandoned me...sorta. I mean it's not like they meant to. Anyways, so it kinda seals the deal, and they leave Kris alone...permanently.
Sorry, I still wanna go on about Kris for a bit...
So I'm like...I think 23? 24? And a few people from TPCA start talking with me, and we wanna have a reunion. So we makea group. I find Kris on facebook, and we talk, and I apologized for how I treated him, and we became friends. I never told anyone, but it let me recommend him to friends, so out of the blue, Kris gets all of us from TPCA adding him and saying hi. He was ecstatic. Never told him it was me. Honestly, I didn't feel like I deserved any credit.
Still on 7th grade but we're gonna talk about Marika now. Yeah...another girl I bullied. Here's the thing: I was going through a lot of shit at home, I was still recoiling from 6th, and I had lost my last hope at things getting back to normal. So I took it out on her. Now I never hit her or shoved her, but I was rude to her and just generally a dick. She was the one I ended up talking to about the TPCA reunion. I had asked her friend Timony to apologize for me to Marika, but she asked me why I didn't talk to her myself. So wouldn't you know it? I did. I didn't tell her what all I had gone through, but I apologized profusely.
I'm actually glad I did, cause Marika was fucking awesome. Her and I never really got like close but...you know those friends you don't know much about but you just...kind of ahve a conenction? I don't know if it's one way or not but she's just plain chill.

So I get expelled the last two weeks of 7th grade and have to go back to Heritage for the last two weeks. Wasn’t a big deal in the end, i kept my head down and my mouth shut.
8th grade, I go to this school called Longmont Christian School. And let me tell you: sheeeeeeeeeltered! These were kids with plenty of money and had gone to this school their entire lives! Like kindergarten through 8th, with a similar highschool literally right next door. I was a total badass in their eyes. My pain tolerance was higher, I was stronger, I took almost no crap at that point. So one day in science class, they ask us to write a story including 10 facts about the planet we were assigned. I wrote mine about a snowman named Gorrack who wanted to blow up the sun. And you know what happened? They sent me to a therapist.
My dad and I had a good laugh about it, and my therapist thought the story was hysterical. And of course he got me to open up. I mostly talked about Geoff. It was nice having someone to just...listen. He also had me take a few tests and showed me I was actually really smart, I just never applied myself. And just when I got comfortable, poof, we run outta money.
I’m begging and pleading with my dad to let me keep going to Dr.Miller, but we just can’t afford it. Know what he says? “Well didn’t we figure out that the problem was Geoff?” Are you fucking kidding me?! I’ve been saying that for YEARS! So I jump out of the moving car. We’re only going like 20 but it hurt. I got up and run, and run and run.
There’s a series of alley ways going south. I take them, screaming at the top of my lungs. I scream about Geoff, I scream about Heritage, I scream for the sake of screaming, I just didn’t care. Surprisingly, my legs hurt, my chest is killing me, and none of it hurt worse than how I felt. I had too much taken from me in such a short time.
I somehow end up back at LCS. I have no idea how I wound up there, but something called me. I walk through the doors, and up to the top floor where all my classes were. I wander into the science room where my teacher Ms.Kildoff is. She can tell something is up. She asks me what’s wrong. I break down. I say nothing, but I sob. I sobbed so hard I threw out my back later on. She said nothing...and just held my head in her lap. I had never felt human compassion like that before. I told her about Geoff, about Heritage, TPCA, about feeling disgusting, everything. She doesn’t treat me like some wackjob, she just runs her hand through my hair, telling me how horrible it all was and how bad she felt for me. And most importantly, I tell her about Emma.
Oh Emma. God you were my everything. 6th grade. Still hell. One day, this girl moves in. Something is just different about her. She’s magnificent, she’s gorgeous, and she just had this aura. She steps out of her parents SUV and looks at me, and friggin smiles and waves. Know what I did? I hid in my back yard. Of course Emma wasn’t having it. She giggled and followed me around back, not letting me hide my face behind trees and whatever. We quickly became friends...for some reason. I mean on a good day I got in a smile and nod, and maybe a few words. She knew I couldn't muster up what to say, so she did most of the talking. She was just..so positive.
Even when Jeremiah was shoving random food from the floor in my mouth, I thought of her, and it made it...well it didn’t make it ok but...it helped...a lot. Over time, I started talking back to her. Mostly babbling about nonsense because damn her eyes, i turned into butter. She was so friggin nice. She made me feel like i mattered. To this day she will always have a piece of my heart. I mean not in the romantic sense. Even though at the time, i stopped thinking about Elycia all together.
I know right? Everything is going ok? Well sorry everyone, get back on the suck train, cause we kicking this bitch in full gear.
Emma was my life. I thought about her constantly, and she was my glowing rock. I would have given anything for her. But that wasn’t enough.
Gonna be a good brony and toss out a trigger warning here, you’ve been warned.

Three spaces and you’re still reading? Go you! *Highfive*

Emma and I are walking to the park like normal. We always walk to the park. We basically live there. Well my neighborhood wasn’t bad, but it wasn’t the greatest. Six older boys, in their twenties follow us, cat calling at Emma. She tells me to ignore them. I’m having a hard time doing that. So we get to the park, and they’re still following us. It was kinda getting dark, and we were hoping we could cut over and get to some neighborhoods for relative safety. Ugh just typing this makes my chest wanna burst. Agh, ok anyways…
Ok so like anyways...they meet up with us and surround is, saying a bunch of shit to Emma. I’m mortified. Like...I still hadn’t quite acquired a backbone, and I knew there was no way in hell there was anything I could do about it. I tell them to stop, they mock me, shove me a bit, ect ect ect. Things escalate...a lot...very quickly. Before i know it, Emma and I are both pinned on the ground, with me screaming in rage as one of the boys is licking Emma’s neck. I flail around wildly, but let's face it, shit ain’t gonna happen. I get popped in the back of the head a few times.
Of all the random shit I decided to type tonight….anyways.
So ya...like stuff happens. Bad stuff. Stuff I still periodically wake up screaming about. I had to watch as they raped the love of my life in front of me. And ya, one of the guys had his way with me too. Why did no one come help? Because that area of town sucked and no one wanted to get involved. Emma and I didn’t know that at the fucking time. I still hear her screams sometimes. Sometimes I’ll hear kids playing at a playground and I’ll be reminded of her. Well when they were done, they cut her throat in front of me. Like...God hadn't I suffered enough? Like….fucking really? Really life? You gotta pull this shit? To this day, I still wish it had been me. So I end up blocking it out. I honestly can’t tell you if anyone ever came and found me. I can’t tell you if they got sent to jail. I can’t tell you much of anything. What I CAN tell you, is that her dad called me up several times and yelled at me. I took it. I said nothing. I just sat there on the phone listening to her dad scream at me, and her mom crying in the background. God i love you Emma. you were there for me in ways no one was. You got me through so much. I never told her what I had went through. I wanted to protect her from it. She knew I had demons. She never treated me any different.
Agh….ok...hard parts over. I mean I literally typed like three words at a time then went and walked around outside, rubbing my hair all sorts of places. I know deep down this is therapeutic, and I know fimfiction is the last place for stuff like this but whatever.
So I’m...ok for a while. Highschool hits and I finally shake the weight. I was actually rather good looking if i do say so myself! But I didn’t know it.
So I got this horrible feeling of...emptiness inside me. And it starts eating at me right? So what do I do? Fill it with moooonaaaaaay! In short, I became a hardcore thief. I had met up with some less than reputable characters. I’m gonna call them...Ghost and Biggie. There were eventually three others but Ghost and Biggie were legit my friends and still are.
So we sat down and went “I hate blah blah blah!” “Ya me too! Fuck that guy!”
Now...I’m smart. Really smart. And at this moment in time, I’m also a manipulative tool. I know what to say, how to say it, and how to provoke certain emotions.
I come up with this great scheme: Have a videogame party (aka a LAN party) and invite everyone we hate! Joy! So here’s how it goes down: everyone brings everything they can. Xbox, playstation, games, computers, all of it. We have it at this kids house who looooves attention...we’ll call him Glasses. Glasses wasn’t our “leader” that was all me, but Glasses had the locations.
So here’s how it goes down, we have everyone play for a few hours, fun times are had. Eventually we set stuff up to where everyone goes into the computer area to watch a quick tournament. While they’re in there, with Glasses and I, Ghost runs in through the accidentally left open back door, and pins a chair against the door to the room we're in from the outside. My job is to try and get everyone involved. “Hey you! Yes you! Who do you think is gonna win? Haha! Hey you’re kinda cool, what’s your name? That’s great, hey I’m just gonna keep talking with you all so you stay in here! =D”
Ghost and Biggie cleared out all the games and xboxs and playstations: all of it. It looks like a random opportunity crime. This other guy Brook, had a big van they loaded up the stuff into. That was stage 1. Eventually someone would go out into the living room and go “What the fuck?!”
We’d all scream and yell, and of course MY xbox along with Glasses playstation were gone too ;)
Second part? “Everyone gather evidence! Look around! Who was here by themselves?! Someone call the cops!” While Ghost, Biggie and Brook swept up all the laptops, computers, monitors, mice, everything, and making sure a chair was in front of the door so no one could go back in immediately.
Ya, the guys we invited were total douchebag assholes. That never made it right. We got away with this several times, quickly going to other towns. I feel so damn bad about all this, it sometime brings me guilt tears. So one day, i’m sitting on Biggie’s bed, fists full of a few thousand bucks, going “WHY DON’T I FEEL ANY BETTER!?!?!?” Over the next month, I have these horrible dreams where this creepy faceless creature stalks me. I’m scared to death, running from it. Eventually it catches up with me, and boom, all my repressed memories get...well unrepressed.
I went off the deeeeeeeep end. I don’t remember much except extreme misery and a few suicide attempts.
You know...I never really fully grasped just how much shit I've been through until I type it out bit by bit. So if there was one thing I was known for, it was being the guy you could tell all your secrets to. I hated the idea of my friends suffering quietly the way I had to.
Speaking of which, there was this girl Cassandra that I met roughly when I was like...16? Cassandra and I always had a strange...bond. We were both really messed up in the head, and I don't know her full story but she clearly had it harder than I did. She would actually laugh about guys taking advantage of her while she was passed out drunk. She was 19 and her kidneys were failing from drinking too much. Cassandra and I dated for three days. We broke up because, get this, I was too nice to her. She wanted to be treated like shit. I get it and I don't at the same time, but we stayed friends. I tried so hard to help her. Every time she senses that I was trying to help, up came those impenetrable walls.
Then I got the news. her kidneys failed while she were passed out drunk and she died. I was horrified. I wanted so badly to save her. I tried so damn hard, but it wasn't enough. i felt the sting of being helpless to save someone I cared about all over again.

I've met some good friends along the way. They helped me through a lot. We were all messed up but good kids. Several years pass. I see a few therapists, including Dr.Miller who for some reason still remembered me. The bad times mostly ended, and things picked up. Still got some literal and metaphorical scars but whatever. I'll add more as it comes to me.

So how am I now? Ya I still get a few triggers every now and then. But I’ve healed mostly and moved on with my life...as much as one could you know? But I made a promise to myself that I’ve kept till this day: I will NEVER let anyone go through anything like that, no matter what it costs.
I’ve literally given someone the shirt off my back so he could have something clean for a job interview. I’ve talked friends down from suicide. I’ve been that one random friend that’s messaged you out of the blue because your post on facebook was asking for someone to talk to. It’s also completely common for me to find random users on fimfiction who make it clear they’re going through a hard time, then message them like “heeeeeeey buddy, you doin ok?”
I've used my old "thief" skills to get kids out of abusive households.
I wrote this to show others that it's ok to be you. It's ok to talk about the crap you've been through. That there are people like me out there that will listen and get it.
Now the interesting thing is I have both PTSD and Complex PTSD (CPTSD). I don't know if you can have both or what it's called, but I just call it FML for short.

Some fun trivia to help you get off the SadExpress

I have an entire bookshelf for therapy books. Not really for me, but they allow me to help others. They range from overcoming social anxiety, to cult recovery, to sociology when it comes to sales.

My parents met in a cult.
Crazy right?! So let me back up real quick. A cult isn't necessarily black robes and demon worship.
A cult is commonly described as any group that uses abusive psychological tactics to control it's members. They usually have a center figure and are lead by someone who teaches these tactics.
Both my parents were new to town and lonely; the perfect targets. The most common tactic a cult will use to indoctrinate you is as follow:
Love Bombing:
"Wow hey you! You are so amazing! Let's be friends! Golly you're interesting! Need anything? Call me anytime!"
To a lonely person, this is almost overwhelming and easy to get caught up with. You can get an endorphin rush from it, causing you to become emotionally addicted to it. They repeatedly throw lots of compassion at you, shrugging off any negative attributes you have.
The second part is fucked up and I forget what it's called.
It boils down to this: "Hey! You're really cool and all! But if we wanna stay friends I just want you to believe the same little things I believe in! I wanna help you! Let us share our beliefs together!"
This is the compromise. "Now that you're nice and addicted and too scared to be alone, get involved with our religious beliefs so we can manipulate you and you'll be too scared to leave!"
Bam. They got you. Now you worship with some religion you honestly don't really believe in but you're so desperate for friends you don't wanna leave. They constantly threaten you with being kicked out, which is worse than the threat of hell to you. They teach you to take things at face value, not ask questions, and do what you're told. They'd constantly "ask" my parents for money, so they were never able to save up a college fund for me.
Eventually the cult had a falling out, and was torn in half. My dad went with the half that said "You people are fucking sick..." my mom came with as well. The thing is, not every person in that place was a bad person. I mean would they even know their tactics were abusive? Both my parents, while divorced, still have emotional problems from it.

Quote I hate:
"Don't cross an ocean for someone who won't cross a river for you."
Ok first off, fuck that. Cross oceans for people. Be there for people who won't be here for you. Give until it hurts. Help everyone you can. Yeah, you might not get anything back. And who cares. Why does everything have to revolve around getting something in return?
I've made massive sacrifices for people I know I'll never even SEE again. You think I give a shit? Hell no. With all the terrible things that go on in this world, spreading love and happiness and kindness is the LEAST you can do. If you can't bring yourself to do it, that's fine. There's nothing wrong with that. I get it, you don't wanna be nice because no one's done that for you. I've been there.
I try to avoid saying people are bad, or that they suck. I still do it, but I try not to. People are either right or not right for you. You never know what people have been through that's turned them into cold, angry people. I know the pain of being a raging assdemon when I'm secretly hurting on the inside, subcontiously wishing ONE person would stop and ask what's wrong. So be that person. Be that one in a million stranger who cares. Sometimes that's all it takes. Be the change you want to see in this world.

Wanna hear the story about Zack, the kid I saved from an abusive house? I'll toss up a blog about it, it's a fun story!
And to all my friends and fans on here: Stay strong.

So in a nutshell, that's me. Fun story right? But this is why they call me Superman, because despite all of it, I'm still here for all of you if you need me.