#I have never been a praying person in my life but I am believing in any and every god for the people of Palestine.

[nc-vb]

if it’s gotten to the fucking point that the Ministry of Education has to announce that “the school year is cancelled” for part of Gaza because all its students have been murdered, humanity has failed, failed at everything— flat out, point blank, and unequivocally failed.

[jinxofthedesert]

I recently got out of a toxic and unhealthy friendship on here. I had to be the one to end it; hopefully the other party decides to leave it be and not smear my name due to realizing it wasn't healthy and that I had to end it because of it.

Basically, if someone makes you start feeling like shit, from your life, to your goals, passion, and everything else, then it's not a rewarding friendship. And it's hard to sometimes see it in the moment. Because you want to think the best of peeps, especially ones you care about.

But sometimes the healthiest thing for You is to know when to put your foot down and end it, even if it hurts you and them. At the end of the day, you matter and what you're doing matters and no one has the right to make you feel shit for who you are when you're just living your life. Life is hard enough without adding peeps who make you feel that way or question how you live when, prior to them showing up, you were happy with all of it.

To anyone in a relationship or friendship like that, I hope, like me, you are able to take a stand and realize you deserve better.

I knew I was being manipulated but not how much until I talked to others close to me. I pray you all never have to experience such a thing because damn, you know you did the right thing, but feel so fucking guilty at the same time.

But your happiness matters. You matter. Please remember that.

[wickershells]

txt

[charmedreincarnation]

When I say that this journey is real, and our struggles are not in vain, I am shouting it from the rooftops. A month ago, I woke up with my dream life. Obsessed with the "void state", I woke up one day being the same person but with an entirely new life. All because I chose it.

Your efforts aren't going unnoticed. The universe is always on your side. You are the universe. It's been a month, and I still feel overwhelmed with joy and wonder every single day.

I was once poor and battling depression, a reality many can relate to. But we found the law because we knew we deserved more. You can be ordinary, flawed, even unkind, but you can choose to transform and have it all. And I did just that. My parents, who were illegal immigrants working underpaid jobs, are now wealthy and respected figures. My last name alone garners recognition, and I am a socialite earning money just by being me.

I used to live in an attic infested with cockroaches. Now, I reside in a four-story mansion, complete with exotic cars, house help, cooks, drivers - all treated and compensated fairly. We also own three other houses across the United States.

I was once insecure, severely underweight, and bullied. Today, not only am I stunningly beautiful, but I am also praised for my fashion sense. I was once a dull person, but now I am radiant with positivity.

I attended an underfunded school where I was bullied, and teachers lacked resources to intervene. Now, I study at a prestigious private school that assures my entry into an Ivy League university. Finally, I am respected and appreciated.

I was lonely and uninteresting. Now, I am vibrant with a close-knit group of friends and a man who seems straight out of a Wattpad story. He's perfect, and he's mine.

This transformation happened overnight. And I've been on this journey since 2020. But how??? I surrendered to my imagination!

The void was overwhelming, but now I can easily navigate it. I was tired of giving my power away. So, I gave in to myself, to my dreams. I knew I deserved it. Even if I didn't believe it at times, I made the choice. If you desire something, it's already yours. It's done.

I didn't have a list or anything of my desires, just a vision of happiness. I didn't know what it looked like, but I knew how it felt. Now, I embody that feeling every day. My life is a series of plot twists. It's not perfect, but my worst days now are what I once prayed for. That old life? POOF It's gone. All I have is now, and I'm living it to the fullest.

My advice?

Stop seeking proof. If you're looking for proof, you'll never manifest your dreams because the only thing that needs to change is self. Doubt is a reflection of your disbelief in yourself. When I surrendered to my imagination, it didn't matter who was lying or telling the truth, because I had my truth. The burden of proof lies within you. It's called the law of assumption. You might harbor some doubt, but you must have faith like the devout. They believe without proof. You can too! We all can! Believe in yourself, and the universe will conspire in your favor!!!!

I agree! Your words resonated with me a lot. Faith, particularly self-faith, is such an important tool in shaping our realities. The ability to trust ourselves, our desires, and our potential is essential in manifesting our dream life, and it’s only so beautiful to slowly see yourself give yourself all your trust when you’ve never even liked yourself.

You're spot on about the issue of seeking confirmation from others. It's an unnecessary hurdle that we give ourselves but it’s human nature. Our truths and dreams should not be validated by anyone else but us. As you said, why should it matter if someone lied or told the truth? We are the creators of our own lives and thus, the only validation we need comes from within.

And I wholeheartedly agree with your point about deservingness. We don't have to earn our desires or prove ourselves worthy of them. If we want something, that desire alone makes us deserving of it.

More importantly I am very proud and happy for you !!!! You’re a testament of what our own imagination can do for us and I hope you only keep getting happier and happier <3!!!!

[kayseed]

stuff in tags read if u want if u see. cannot stop you im just having a bad night and wanted to put a warning

[delicate-cupcake]

Love Letter From Your Future Spouse

Hello everybody 🌹

Here is another PAC for you guys enjoy it my beautiful people.

Close your eyes and take a deep breath then choose your pile intuitively:)

Pile 1 ---- Pile 2 ---- Pile 3 ----

Pile 4 ---- Pile 5 ---- Pile 6

Pile 1

Hello m'lady

I love you because you actually put effort into me I love you because nobody has ever given me the love that you have given me and you are the only one that would ever love me this way. I love you because you always make me feel that I am worth something I love you because you have a nurturing nature and you take care of me because you made me smile when I almost forgot how to. I love you because you have a huge and honest heart. I love you and every little thing about you. I love you because you are simply you.

If nothing else I hope you know that I love you with everyone ounce of my being I hope you realise your importance not only to me but to everyone who has been lucky enough to know you I hope you know that when you are feeling down I pray for your happiness I hope you remember that no matter what I am here for you and I always will be I won't leave you I am in your life forever I am not going anywhere I hope you recognise the fact that I appreciate and adore you and that this will never change I love you unconditionally

Pile 2

Mi amor,

I love you enough to fight for you, compromise for you enough to miss you deeply no matter the length of time or how far apart we are enough to believe in our relationship to stand by your side to hold your hand through the ups and downs to have faith and strength in our relationship to never give up on you I love you enough to spend forever with you each day I fall more in love with you making me realise no amount of time is ever enough and even one day forever will run out but I have decided that will be fine because getting to love you is worth it And no babes I am not going to lose feelings no I am not going to find someone better no I am not going to cheat on you and no I am not going to leave you I have already made up my mind I want you and only you No one else because to me you are my kind of perfect.

Pile 2 I think you require a lot of reassurance. Don't worry. this person will always be ready to hear you and give you reassurance

Pile 3

My Honeybee 🐝,

I am going to love you I am going to love you in our weakest moment to our strongest ones. I'm going to love you when you are happy and I am going to still love you the most when you are sad. Don't you understand?  I am here and I am not going anywhere I want to love you each and every piece of you I want you with your imperfections as much as I want you for you and I am always going to want you and always going to be here loving you with my everything. Because I see it I see getting married , moving in together , cuddling on the couch , waking up to good morning kisses , having arguments , making up after , cooking our favourite food , smiling for no reason , annoying each other , when we are bored having the cutest little babies *not them trying to be funny*, watching them grow up and never leaving each other's side.

Pile 4

Love of my life ❤️,

My dreams came true when I met and fell in love with you what is even more amazing is that we are now building dreams together I cannot thank you enough for coming into my life and making it what it is today. We are perfectly in perfect I love how we are beautiful together and that we continue to help each other become stronger and better both as individuals and as a couple I learn everyday from you you are so genuine and courageous I admire and love so much about you and I can't wait to spend the rest of life with you. And trust me when I say that I did not just fall in love with your body yet your soul I fell in love with the way you look at me with your eyes full of joy the way you smile when you talk about animals that you adore the way that your hair flies in the wind like they have mind of their own the way that you walk the way you speak so politely and calmly the way you love unconditionally and without a request I fell in love with all your flaws so hard that no one could save me

Pile 5

Babes,

I wish I could explain in words how much I love you but I can't because there  aren't any words to describe the love I feel for you I miss you also but I am not going to let the distance keep me from loving you even if it's from afar I want you to know that I will always be there for you I will be your shoulder to lean on your distraction when you want to escape and everything else in between I know we have got a long road ahead of us but I am willing to stick it through. And I hope you are as willing too no matter the bad that has happened or will happen always remember that you are so special to me and have a special place in my heart ,  in my mind I don't know how you see our future but I am going to share my vision with you

We will go out on our own little adventures going places you have always wanted to go but of course we will come back home to see our family and friends whenever you'd like.  We will get married and have our first apartment together we will have all the adorable dogs and cats that you want under a reasonable number of course I will constantly be surprising  you with gifts and love and I will promise you everyday the same thing. One word. Forever

Pile 6

Baby,

I want you to understand that love was never meant to be easy people fight people make mistakes people walk out and then run back but when it comes to love there is no limit to what you do for one another to protect to provide to profess it's a lot harder to stay together then to fall apart, but for our love for one another being unconditional will make it worth every second But I want you to know and understand that at the end of the day I want it to be you and me I want your early mornings I want your late night I want you on your good days even more on your bad it is like I am yours the way the sea belongs to the moon the way the moon belongs to the sky and even if the jealous stars break and shatter upon the Milky way I will still see heaven in your eyes. *This is a poem written by Mark Anthony*

Thank you so much for reading this PAC. Please remember that this is only for entertainment purposes.

Masterlist : here

[apollos-olives]

hello! If this question is too personal, please feel free to ignore. I’m writing an informative essay on the Palestinian experience under occupation (college English final) and I just wanted to ask this.

As children in Palestine (or outside of Palestine, but born to Palestinian parents), are you raised with the knowledge of the hatred and disdain of the Israelis towards the Palestinians or would you say that Palestinian parents “shelter” (for lack of a better word that I can think of) or attempt to “shelter” their children from the pain of the Israeli’s hatred? I would assume that protecting the emotions and minds of the children would be somewhat impossible to do, but I would appreciate if you could provide some insight into this and also how children deal with the mental toll of being under occupation or knowing that their people are not free. My apologies if this is question is insensitive, please feel free to ignore and delete this if you feel uncomfortable. Thank you!

we, as palestinians, are raised with the complete knowledge that zionists hate us. there is no "hiding" that fact. when you live under an occupation, you know it. you feel the effects of it. you see it every day. one of the very first things i've been raised to learn is that i am a person who majority of the world hates. and you genuinely cannot hide that. even though we were, and are, children, we have to face the truth immediately. we are an oppressed people. our parents do not hide this from us. it would be cruel if they did. we deserve to know that there is a better life for us than this, and we deserve to know what is happening against us. you cannot hide the effects of oppression and occupation. we will learn about it whether someone tells us or not.

because of this, palestinians raise their children to be extremely educated. palestinians are some of the most highly educated people in the world. we become educated when we're young and continue to become more and more educated as we grow because that is what we believe will set us free. the newer generations must have knowledge to fight back. the children are the future, as we all know. the sooner we are educated, the sooner we can start fighting back against oppression. that is why we urge other people to become educated, so they can help us fight against oppression as well. oppression cannot be hidden from us. we must learn to notice it wherever we go, in order to end it. that is why palestinians do not hide away their children. of course, we love our children and we try to ease the pain for them as much as possible, but the pain is our real life. our suffering is part of our fight, our identity. and we are fighting for a day where our suffering will never have to be permanent part of our identity again. we want to protect our children, but we cannot protect them against a world that wants them dead. we cannot do it alone, so we need people to step up and stand with us, in order to raise our children without them having to know the suffering we've endured.

being a child living under the occupation is difficult. you make friends one year, you lose them the next year. you finally manage to get out of palestine, and suddenly you're never allowed to go back in. you see posters on the wall of every city, full of faces of the people who were martyred by the hands of the oppressors and you pray to god that your face isn't going to be on there next. you are constantly surrounded by death and suffering. palestine is beautiful. our culture is beautiful. we constantly try to appreciate our beauty. but we cannot just do that without also facing the reality. we are an oppressed people. we know this. we see this. we feel this.

being a child living in the diaspora is also difficult. seeing how everyone around you can go on with their day, all smiles and laughs, not knowing your family in palestine were just killed the other day. seeing the media twist the narrative and make up lies about you and your people. being wary of everyone around you because you're not sure if they're a zionist or not so you have to hide your identity and who you are. watching as your people are massacred on tv while you're sitting there in your living room from a continent away, shaking with fear because "what if that was me?"

we know zionists hate us. this is the first thing we learn. we cannot hide our children from this truth, because that would only harm them more than it would protect them.

[netherfeildren]

Pink : Part III : Two

Series Masterlist : Part I : Part II

Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader

Content Warnings: Heavy angst; DD/lg dynamics; Dom/sub undertones; Daddy Kink; Jealousy; Unprotected Sex; Creampie; Inappropriate shaving; Squirting; Belly bulge; Dirty talk; Orgasm delay/denial; Overstimulation; Face slapping; Spanking; Light degradation; Rough sex; Breeding kink; Divorce; Not safe to read if triggered by pregnancy; Use of misogynistic language; Discussions of mental and emotional abuse; Cliffhanger

A/N: All tags have been updated.

Word Count: 12.7K

Rating: Explicit 18+

Read on AO3

Ko-fi

3. Two

“You know that feeling of… of realizing you’re a good person? It’s like– yes, I know objectively that I probably am. That I try to be kind, I try to do things that are good and right, but you know those strangely self perceptive moments where another person makes you – forces you – to realize you’re good? And it brings your whole life, your whole self into clarity, and it’s like – I am good, and I deserve good things. I am good.

But he treated me so badly, for so long. He took away pieces of me, he took away that awareness of goodness. And how could I not believe him, when he constantly told me and showed me that I deserved so little, when it was what I accepted for myself? Constantly waiting for him to turn into a man he never was, never had been and never would be. I accepted those things for myself, I let them happen. Maybe I was weak or stupid or naive or all of them combined. Maybe I was just a girl. But I thought it was hope at the time. I thought I was being hopeful and good, and now I realize that was no true form of goodness. It was only the version of good he needed me to be, a subservient and silent type of goodness.”

“And you know, I had a neighbor who– her husband died last year at Christmas, and it was so sad. They were older, always together, it was… it has nothing to do with this, but I don’t know. It was like when a tragedy is soft and quiet, and it just folds into the rest of life unheeded. Such a strange thing for someone on the outside looking in. I lived next door to them, and I’d see them all the time living their lives together, and I barely knew them, but suddenly he was gone, and I was conscious of the fact that she was over there alone all the time now. Without him. When before he’d always been there. I don’t know what I'm trying to say. It’s just that it didn't happen to me, it affected me in no way, and yet, I felt her loss keenly. Afterwards, I helped her with her cat, an old skinny thing, Jazz. She started going out of town a lot after her husband died, getting out and away, you know, that sort of thing. And I’d cat sit for her, and he was so sweet. But he was old too, and a few months later, he died also. And I remember the week he was going to pass she’d texted me and said he’d go soon, and I told her I was praying for him, thinking of the both of them. I don’t even pray, but I needed to tell her I was with her in some way. And it was nothing, a few nights going over there to feed the old boy, a few text messages. It was the absolute bare minimum I could do, but a few weeks after the cat died, she wrote me the loveliest note. She told me that she appreciated me, that she thought of how kind I’d been during those days, when I’d told her I was thinking of them. She told me that I was a good person, and that she hoped my kindness was returned to me many times over. 

And I’d forgotten, you see, I'd forgotten that I was good. That I had a capacity for goodness within me, and that I deserved to be reminded of it, like all soft creatures are. We all need reassurance and a kind word sometimes, and I’d forgotten that about myself.” You glance up at his eyes, the most tender look held in them. “Do you know what I mean, Joel?” You ask, voice very small, shy and afraid, for one moment, that he won’t understand you. 

But he pets your hair, cradles your cheek, “Yeah, honey. I think I do know.”

It’s a terrifying ordeal, the way the two of you fold into each other in the weeks after that first night. And yet, unstoppable. You do try, and you’re sure he does, as well. The first few days, trying to stay away, not answering his calls, no texts because he says his fingers are too big, and he can’t work those tiny fuckin’ buttons, forcing yourself not to run back over there into his arms and his bed. But then he’s calling and calling and calling, begging, making it his turn to show up at your doorstep in the middle of the night, saying all the right things like, I haven’t been sleeping, and I need to see you, and I’m suffering, I’m suffering without you, touching you in all the right ways that should be wrong but aren’t. All baby, I hurt when I’m not inside this sweet pussy. He says you make him weak, and you tell him that the only weak thing here is you, and you don’t make it much of a struggle for him when you let him in your home, in your cunt, when all you can say is I miss you, I miss you, your cock, your hands, I can’t stop thinking about you. The two of you are one and the same in all the ways it counts. And he’s not your father-in-law anymore, a chameleon now in the form of the only man who’s ever understood you, wanted you, seen you as more, as a complexity. 

He makes you wonder how you could have ever thought of yourself as anything like sexless when all he makes you is hungry and desperate and wet. Fucking everywhere you can, as often as you can, never being very careful, pulling out and counting your cycle and starting out with a condom but ripping it off halfway through because I just have to feel you – irresponsible bullshit. Not having your head screwed on tightly enough to even really care. He has you on his living room floor one afternoon, whole day gone away on his cock, and the two of you lay there for hours afterwards, bare limbs wrapped around each other, soft, wet cock tucked safely inside of you where he says it belongs. “How could you have not been angry?” You ask him because you can’t help yourself. Because you want him to teach you to be wise now that he’s shown you how to be good. “That he was kept from you? That you missed an entire lifetime of being a father? I never once saw you furious or resentful. How did you do it?”

“Don’t know,” he sighs. “Dunno… I– It was, kind of, the worst thing anyone’s ever done to me, truth be told, but I didn’t have a chance to compute, to sit in any sort of anger. He was right there all of a sudden, too full of anger to leave any left over for me, and he needed me so much. He needs me so much.” And you know he’s right, and there should be guilt now, gnawing at you, but there is really only jealousy. “And he– he…” A swallow, like you can read his mind, you know what he’ll say, already nodding. “And he hates me,” he whispers into the quiet of this lovely home he’s made for himself, his words mixing with the butter yellow ray of sunshine the two of you are lying in, slanting in through the big bay window. “He hates me, hates who I am. That it’s me he found when he came lookin’.” You have to cry for him then, maybe even for the both of them, maybe even for all three of you. 

“Yes,” you choke, so full of sadness for the tragedy of it all. You can’t comfort him with a denial for you’re not a liar here with him. Protection like that isn’t necessary. 

“Don’t cry, sweetheart.” He hugs you so tightly, “There’s no reason to cry.”

“I can’t help it,” And return the words he’d given you once when you’d so badly needed a kindness, “You deserve more.”

He’s quiet for a long time after that, and you know him well enough now that you can hear the gears of his mind working and turning, and that makes you even sadder, perhaps, the greatest tragedy of all, this knowing, and eventually he says: “And yet, he is the son I have.” And at the end of it all, you think you are all only yourselves, and nothing can really be done about that. 

And you say you want to be wise like him, that it’s your next lesson, so perhaps you should hold your tongue instead of saying: “He only just got you back, and I’m taking you away from him again. Because that’s what I want – I want to take you away and keep you only for myself. I want you to be only mine and that makes me bad. I’m bad.” Your first lesson quashed beneath the fist of your greed for a man who isn’t for you, and who you shouldn’t want, and it’s wrong and maybe even sinful or disgusting or any and all the things that are always bad. None of that matters. He’s turned you into a real person now, none of the rest of it matters. 

But he understands, because of course he does, because he always has. He grips your jaw in his hands, large, strong hands, hands made for taking care of things, and tells you, not so wise seeming anymore: “Sometimes I look at myself, and it’s like I'm two feet tall. Why didn’t I meet you sooner? First? How could I have been such a coward to not go out there and search for you? I should have known you were out there, I should have sensed it. How can a man be jealous of his own son?” He turns you over then, cock hard and thrusting again, kisses you full on the mouth, and it tastes like ownership, and says, “You could never be bad. No matter what you did. You’re only ever good. Haven’t I taught you that?” 

-

“Joel, there’s someone at the door,” peeking into the restroom where he’s just stepped out of the shower, wet and steaming, shaking his head out like a dog, towel covering all the fun bits. He’d just had you too many times already, and still, you want more. You’re made of nothing but greed now; he’s taught you how to be good, but he’s also taught you how to be greedy. You’d been strewn across his couch, eating chips and wearing his clothes and leaking his come and waiting for him to finish in the shower and come out to make dinner. He was doing steaks on the grill and baked potatoes with all the fixings and roasted vegetables, and he’d even gotten a pie and ice cream, but he said he wasn’t telling you what the flavor was, only that it was your favorite, and you can’t think how he’d know you love rhubarb, but if that’s what he’s gotten, you were going to let him do anything to you. Literally anything he wanted. Not that you didn’t already… but still, it’s the sentiment that counts, you think. He’d also said you weren’t allowed to shower, that the rule tonight was that you weren’t allowed to wash him off, and you really didn’t mind that so much. So there you were, after he’d put on Stepmom for you, and you were just thinking that Julia Roberts was surely the most beautiful woman who’d ever been born, when someone had knocked on the door, a rhythmic, friendly: tap, tap, tap, that had your heart dropping down into your stomach, and you scurrying into the master bath to frantically tell him that someone is here while you’re here wearing him all over and inside of you and what are you going to do now? He gives you a calm smile, running the towel over his wet head, giving you an eyeful of the fun bits now, and you try and not peek, you really do, but it’s really just the most exciting part on him, you can’t help yourself. His smile turns knowing, that look in his eye, “S’alright, sweetheart. Don’t fret, I’ll get it.”

“But–” you try and protest, maybe he should just pretend not to be home. What if it’s– you can’t even think of it. But then no, he’d not come here. He hates coming to this house, the proof of everything he wasn’t all in his face like this was humiliating for your ex-husband. 

His smile remains, but his eyes go a little stern, “No worryin’, I’ll take care of it.” He tugs on his jeans, the man literally never wears underwear, slut, and tugs on a shirt, pressing a kiss to your forehead as he passes you, hand dragging over your belly, smelling of soap and Joel and want, want, want. You follow him on tip toes down the hall, pausing at the mouth of the living room, chewing on your lip and your fingers, about to spit your heart out with nerves as he pulls the door open. 

“Hi, Joel, honey. How’s it goin’?” Pretty, bubbly, overly friendly voice you were definitely not expecting. You take a small step forward, the mouth of the hall slightly to the left of the front door so that you can see her without her seeing you, watch his profile as he talks to her. Edie, he says, and that dishwasher givin’ you trouble again, and laughs at her reply, the sound of their conversation going out of your ears as you watch him, head falling sideways on your neck a little bit, the way he laughs at whatever the woman that’s come knocking on the door of his home all friendly and comfortable to interrupt his time with you is saying, loud, bellyfull, one arm braced against the doorframe so that you can see her eyes flit every few seconds to the thick bulge of muscle there. Your face goes hot, your insides green and bitter, but he’s laughing just handsomely enough that you know it’s not real. You know his real laugh, and it isn’t this one. The woman leans forward, blonde hair and big boobs and batting lashes, but Joel shifts backwards subtly, keeping a respectful distance, and your pulse throbs at the backs of your knees and the pit of your stomach. She likes him, she’s here because she likes him, asking him to look at her dishwasher or something, yeah, sure, sure that’s the only thing she wants looked at. 

“I’ll come take a look at it tomorrow. How ‘bout that? I’m sure it’ll be another quick fix like last time, but you should probably think about just replacin’ the thing at this point,'' he tells her. 

“Oh, can’t you now, Joel?” She pouts, “It’s just that–”

“I’m tied up tonight, Edie,” he cuts her off, an indulgent, too charming smile on his face, and oh, it pisses you off, that smile. You turn on your heel, stomping down the hall back to his bedroom. Huffing, gnashing your teeth. The sight of him with another woman, a more appropriate woman because of course she is, it makes you sick, angry, something terrible, so, so jealous your bones itch beneath the surface of your skin. It makes you small and slanted again, wrong place, wrong time, wrong girl. Not for him, never for him, and it’s so unfair, and he is so– so… Smiling at her like that, using that tone of voice, propping up his stupid huge arm like that so that his muscle’s all defined and put on display, and you hate him and the way he makes you feel and how much you want and need him. On the verge of tears or screaming or vomiting you scramble around his room, trying to collect your clothes and your strewn panties and where the fuck is your bra and your other shoe? 

“What’re you doin’?” Comes his soft, steady voice a moment later. Entirely too even for the way you feel right now. You want to hiss at him or bite him or do something entirely uncivilized. 

“I have to go home.”

“Why?”

“I have something to do. I forgot.”

“Something, what? What do you have to do?” But you ignore him, rifling through the strewn clothes on the armchair in the corner – where the hell is your goddamn bra? “Look at me–” he barks, now having stepped further into the bedroom. 

“Oh, fuck off,” and there’s a part of you that knows that you’re being irrational, that he’s done nothing wrong, but you feel so provoked suddenly. In need of a fight or a thrashing or something, something to make this terrible feeling poisoning you on the inside go away. 

“Watch your mouth, little girl,” and his voice is so calm and so quiet and so scary. It makes you lock up one second, spin around the next to spit and hiss at him like an angry cat. You will not watch your mouth. “She wants you.” You almost stomp your foot like a child throwing a fit, but he’s entirely still and silent, taking you in with the most unfathomable of looks. “Do you know that?” And this time you do stomp your foot. “Do you want her back?”

He blinks once, and then like a lightbulb turning on, even though you’re obvious as daylight, “You’re jealous.”

“Do you want her back?” You ask again, real tears in your voice this time. 

And his gaze goes soft and tender and entirely understanding, “Never.” He shakes his head. 

“She looked like a fucking idiot.” You pout, childish – how will he ever want you when you act like this?

“I only want you.” But you don’t believe him. How could you? When there’s nowhere for this to go. When he deserves so much more than the options afforded to him here between the two of you. And you want to fight with him because there’s nothing to be done, no choices, no other recourse, and it’s not his fault and there’s no one to blame and no outlet for this terrible anger inside of you. You feel like you’re choking on it, being swallowed whole, that head breaking water feeling reversed so that now you’re deep at the bottom of the well of your own wanting. You turn back to the fruitless search for your bra. He’s hidden it from you, you’re sure, some evil old man ploy to keep you here trapped and braless with him. “Did you hear me? I only want you,” he says again, voice closer now.

And you think you’re mumbling or crying, something hysterical bubbling up inside of you, I have to go, I have to go, your movements manic and jerking. He grips your arm, jerking you around into his chest, face flushed with anger now, but voice still even, “You’re not fucking listening to me. I only want you,” and yanks your hand to feel the hard cock trapped beneath the confines of his jeans. This is only for you. But it’s not, not in any real way, not in a way that would let you keep him and that realization sets something off inside of you. You thrash in his hold, let me go, let me go, trying to kick him in the shins while he tries to wrap his arms around your struggling form, that rumbling chant constant in your ear, I only want you, I only want you, I am only for you. It feels like he’s burrowing beneath your skin, unzipping you, splaying your insides wide open for his gaze, taking hold of your bones, a puppet on his string. You manage to yank your arm out from beneath his grip and unthinking, a buzzing so high pitched it makes you dizzy and nauseous sounding in your ears, you slap him in the face. Not very hard, maybe, but enough that you hear the crack of your palm meeting the grizzled scruff of his cheek. The sound like a bone snapping, setting off something inside both of you even worse, more frenzied than before. He groans deep in his chest, big hand fisting in your hair and jerking it back so hard you yelp in pain. “Hit me again, do it again. I want you any way I can have you, even angry. Do it again,” he goads you on, but that mindless hand is fisted in his shirtfront now, pulling you closer to him, tear stained mouth seeking his, opening to receive his filthy kiss. 

“I’m sorry,” you cry, but all he says is that he only wants you, again and again, grips you harder, makes it hurt more, and you whine and whimper and scratch and bite, a wild thing, the two of you caught up in some strange struggle of push and pull and want and fight. You can feel the hard length of his cock grinding against your belly, searching for something hot and wet to fuck into, and you hitch your knee around his hip, open yourself to him, listen to his groan in your ear, throaty and full. 

“You just need a little remindin’? Don’t you, huh?” He tugs your head back, none too gentle, to look at your tear slicked face, his eyes on fire, almost a little manic. He spins you away from him, shoving you towards the bed, ignoring your whines and protests, shut up and bend over, pushing you over the edge of the bed and crouching down behind you. “You just need a little remindin’ of how to be a good girl. I know that’s all this fightin’ is. Right, baby?” No, you try and struggle, kicking your leg out uselessly to the side, but he pins you with your arms back behind you at the small of your waist, pushing his shirt up your back to expose the naked curve of your ass and the pussy you know he’ll find humiliatingly wet and hungry for him. “Just need remindin’ of how to be a good girl for me, right?” His fingers slide down to the apex of your thighs, finding you dripping and swollen from his earlier use and your current desire, all twisted up and compounded ten fold with your jealousy. 

“So wet already for me, baby,” he coos at you. 

And oh, he’s so annoying, and you’re so embarrassing and weak for him. “Shut up, old man,” you whine. A single finger enters you slowly, rubbing up against all the terribly sensitive and swollen places inside of you, then pulls his wet fingers from you to deliver a single stinging swat to the curve of your ass, sticky wet imprint of yourself left behind. 

“Yeah, and this old man fucks you better than anyone else,” he slips his fingers gently back inside of you, “Remember that you little whore,” he says even more gently. The words make you twist and writhe, a terrible flush of lust burning through you. He feels you tighten around his fingers, groans appreciatively. “Oh, you like that, don’t you?” He twists his fingers inside of you, pressing hard against something that makes you feel like you’re about to wet yourself. You cry out, squeezing your eyes shut and shaking your head, refusing to answer. “No lyin’. You daddy’s little whore?”

“Nuh uh,” you shake your head, your hips moving with the rhythm of his thrusting fingers. He brushes his thumb slowly over your pulsing clit, plays you like a game. 

“No?” His voice is so soft, so teasing. 

“I’m not your whore–”

“You’re not? Then what are you, baby? Tell me.”

You’re right there, so close, about to come on his fingers. “I'm your baby. I'm your baby. I’m yours– I belong to you, daddy.” He pulls his fingers from your cunt, hand coming to grip your ass cheek so hard it hurts, fingernails digging into your soft skin, dragging down the smooth surface. You can hear him panting behind you, shaking, trying to control himself. He makes a gruff, rough sound in his throat, gentles his grip on you. 

“You don’t think I don’t get fucking jealous?” he spits when he’s finally managed to control himself. “You think I don't think about you with my own son and want to die? That he got to have you in a way I never will, and even worse, wasted you? You don’t think it makes me sick with envy?” He brings his fingers back to play in your wet folds, feels the slick drip of you, thrums at your clit, opening you to him with a hand on your cheek and licking you from clit to asshole. Running the flat expanse of his tongue over the length of your sex and then sucking hard at the apex of nerves, hard enough that you can’t tell if it hurts or feels good or a little bit of both. He’s got you bent over the end of his bed facing the dresser so that you have a clear view of the two of you in the mirror above it. And the sight of him, massive frame crouched down behind you, huge and hulking, face buried in your cunt from behind, the curved slope of his nose, the long, thick lashes, eyes closed like he’s enjoying himself more than he’s ever enjoyed anything else in his entire life as he licks your ass and sucks on your clit. He pulls back, and you watch, almost in slow motion, as he shocks you by swatting your entire sex with his big hand, and then immediately brings his face back to lick and kiss your smarting skin. “But he didn’t fuck you the way you needed to be fucked,” he continues. “And I do. He didn’t understand you, but I do. At least I have that.” It sounds like he’s consoling himself, and you can’t help but find consolation in it as well. Your eyes move up to your own reflection, sweat slicked and tear stained, eyes glassy, wet fingers inside of your mouth because you need something to chew on to stand the terrible throbbing in your cunt on the verge of coming. He licks you again, presses his tongue to your asshole. “Did you ever get wet for him like this?” He pulls back, runs the pads of his fingers over your clit in fast, hard up and down motions, makes it feel so good it hurts, you’re right there, you’re right there, pulls away. “Were you ever desperate for him like this? Cunt all drippy and swollen and pathetic for him like you are for me, my sweet baby?”

Never, daddy. Never. Only you. You can’t lie to him when he’s got his tongue inside of you, it’s just not possible. Only me. Only mine. You press up on your tippy toes, roll back down onto the balls of your feet, “Yeah, rub that sweet pussy all over daddy’s face,” he mumbles into your skin, slurps at you. He wraps his lips around your clit once more, sucks and licks and sucks again, and your cunt goes so, so tight, I’m gonna come, I’m gonna come, daddy, and then just stops. Pulls away entirely, gets to his feet, leaves you to throb and shiver and beg, whole body flashing hot and cold on the precipice of orgasm. Still holding you pinned in place with your wrists at the small of your back, you watch his eyes roam along your draped form, he drags his hand down the wet length of his face, wiping the drippiness of your slick away. “Stay just like that for me,” and his eyes move to yours in the mirror, as if he’s known the entire time just how riveted on him you’d been. “What?” He asks with a crooked brow and a mean little smirk. “You think you get to come? After that little display?”

“Don’t be mean,” you whisper, staying exactly as he’d directed. Trying your best to be a good girl. 

“Shoulda thought of that before, sweet girl.” He bends over the length of you so you’re eye to eye now, gets his face right up close to yours and presses a kiss to the tip of your nose. “You wanna pretend to fight, stand there like an indignant little girl stomping your foot and yellin’ about bein’ jealous while my come runs down your thighs still. Obviously, I’m not doin’ a good enough job of remindin’ you you’re mine, how much I want you. Gonna fix that now.” Presses another soft kiss to your mouth now. 

“You’re trying to dominate me,” you whine, struggling to press against his mouth again even as he pulls back out of your reach, plants a big palm between your shoulders to keep you still. 

“You bet your fuckin’ ass I am. You’re gonna do what I tell you to when you’re letting me fill you with my come the way you are. And you’re gonna like it too. You get me?”

“Yes, daddy.”

But then he goes serious, that teasing glint in his eyes flickering away suddenly. “You have nothing to be jealous of. Ever. I don’t want anyone but you. I don’t care about anything else but this.” And even though you’re sure it must be a lie, it sounds so lovely, you choose to believe him for now. You nod up at him, sniffling and crying again a little bit. “And no one takes care of you like I do,” he finally says, as if it’s a reminder, a consolation to the both of you once again. 

And he’s right, as he tells you to stay put, be a good girl and not move, leaves you there bent over the bed, that chant sounds in your mind, no one takes care of you like he does, no one, no one, no one. 

-

He steps back into his bedroom to the sight of you still draped over the bed, big eyes wet and slightly vacant, pussy red and swollen and bared to him like a wound with his name on it. You’d brought your fingers up to your mouth, chewing on your fingernails the way you did sometimes when you were anxious or overwhelmed, and when your eyes flit to him, taking in the bowl of warm water, the washcloth and shaving cream in his hold, they go wide, shocked. He arranges his things, gripping you by the hips to turn you over, pulling his shirt from you, leaving you entirely naked, and settling between your spread thighs. “Wh– what are you doing?” Voice all breathy and hitched, the thrum of your excited pulse in your throat. 

“Gonna shave you bare. Then I’m gonna eat you ‘til you’re crying, ‘til you’re so swollen you can barely take my fingers. After that, I’m gonna wedge my cock inside you and fuck you ‘til you’re so full’a my come you’ll remember not to forget you ain’t got no reason to be jealous ever again.” He strokes your curls gently with the pad of his thumb, something like fondness in the gesture, clicks his tongue. “These’re so pretty. Gonna miss ‘em.”

“Oh my god,” you choke when he drapes the water warmed washcloth over your spread pussy.

“You wanna be a brat, you wanna fight and act like you don’t know I belong to you and you to me? That none of that other shit matters– I’m gonna remind you, don’t worry.”

You crane your neck, pushing up on your elbows to watch him remove the washcloth and cover the soft curls of your groin with shaving cream. When he opens the blade and brings it to your skin, the sight of the straight edged blade against you, the smooth cream as the steel reveals the bare, satin soft skin beneath, has your chest heaving, sweat pooling at the little notch of your throat –  fucking gorgeous and his.

“You’re going to be so sensitive, baby,” he murmurs as he bends your leg back and opened wide, splitting you for his gaze. Delicate with the movements of his wrist as he shaves you. “All bare and slick down here, just for me. You’re so swollen already.”

You mumble something, moaning and letting yourself flop back against the mattress, he’s quick to pull the blade from you, pausing his movements while you settle, gives you a second to press the balls of your palms into the sockets of your eyes, whining Joel and daddy and please. And the trust in this moment between the two of you, that you’re letting him wield a blade so close to your fragile center, letting him do this to you as a way to remind the both of you of the power you cede and wield over and to one another, something that gives him the opportunity to inflict his will in a way that recenters you, reminds you that you’re his, his to do with you as he will, and it’s just the two of you in this space and you trust each other implicitly, it has a sense of control swelling inside of Joel, making his cock rock hard in his jeans, leak down his thigh. Control in a way there is none of in everything else between the two of you. Control in a way there cannot exist in any other aspect of your relationship. When he’s finished, he cleans you slowly with a new warm, damp cloth, then goes to put away his supplies, and when he returns, he looms over you, taking in the sight of your little bald cunt now. 

Slowly, he starts to pull his clothes off, watching the quick panting of your breathing, the dip and swell of your belly, so aroused by the intimacy you’ve just shared that your pupils are blown wide and dark. “You’ve made such a mess, little girl,” he says, dragging a single finger through your overflowing slit, following the slick from your swollen clit to your asshole where it pools beneath. He fingers your folds gently, avoiding your swollen clit, your little hole winking at him wantonly. “Please–” you whisper so softly, almost gasping for breath you can barely get the words out. 

“Oh, I know, sweetheart. I know you need to come so bad, don’t you?” He drags his palms up and down your thighs, up to your waist and then tugs you down over the edge of the bed and onto your knees in front of him, wide eyes riveted hungry on his cock. “How does it feel? So sensitive, isn’t it?” He’s so hard his erection stands straight up towards his belly, balls hanging heavy and full and aching. He gently drags his fingers along your scalp, feels the heat emanating from your skull. “Lick it all over, get it nice and wet so I can put it inside you.” He knows he needs to be careful now. The two of you are wide open to each other in this moment, so on edge he could come just at the look in your eyes, and you, something more than just vulnerable. He’d worried briefly, in the past weeks, if he should stop, send you away, take himself away, tell you it was too much. You were getting too attached, and although he knew it was too late for himself, that he was beyond salvaging when it came to you, he could imagine nothing worse than seeing you come out hurt from this. Could also imagine no scenario in which you wouldn’t anymore. He feeds you his cock, fisted tightly at the root to stave off his impending orgasm, slides all the way to the back of your throat until he feels his tip hit resistance, enjoying the sight of you choking on it for just a second. Good girl. “Fuck– fuck, yes. See, see how good you can be for me?” He tells you as you suck on his tip, hollowing your cheeks and running your tongue all around the wide head, tonguing his foreskin, making him hiss and bear his teeth at you while you look up at him with falsely innocent eyes. He yanks you up and against him, gives you a filthy, wet kiss, all tongue and teeth and false control, swallowing down the taste of his own precum. He’s never felt less in control of himself, of a situation, than he does right now. He has, in these past weeks, entirely lost sight of himself, of what this should and should not have been, blindly led by his cock and his heart. He’s lost all control, and Joel is nothing but weakness and want now. 

Turning you in his arms, he sits at the edge of the bed, thighs spread wide and pulls you onto his lap, impaling you back onto his spit-slick cock so swiftly he doesn't even think you’re expecting it until he’s bumping against your womb, your knees hooked and spread wide over his own. Too desperate to lick your cunt again the way he’d planned. You let out a long, shocked keen, back arching, trying to escape the too big cock suddenly shoved inside of your tiny hole. Joel has to grit his teeth, take deep breaths through his nose and out through his mouth before he can speak at the feel of you fluttering and pulsing around him, “The more you whine, the harder I’ll fuck you, got it?” There’s nothing even close to a coherent response coming out of your mouth, and he was right, shaved bare like this, you’re so much more sensitive. He pulls the lips of your sex gently apart around where he’s impaling you, takes in the sight of your little hole stretched obscenely around his fat cock in the mirror’s reflection and slowly starts to seesaw his hips back and forth, watching his glossy length disappear in and out of you. “How does it feel, baby? You’re so pretty, look at yourself.” He whispers into the small shell of your ear, presses a soft kiss to the lobe, tugs on it with his teeth. He slides in all the way, pulling your hips down so that his balls press against the curve of your ass. “Look, see where daddy’s so deep inside you – can see it in your belly.” Your head lolls back on his shoulder, gaze hooded and delirious, but your hand moves down to the soft skin of your stomach, gently cupping the outline of his cock inside of you. “I’m so deep inside of your tiny cunt, baby. Look at how you’re all mine–” He starts to move again, flicking at your clit, interchanging between fast and hard and slow and so soft you can barely feel it, and your face looks like you want to say something, tell him something, scream, but can’t. And there’s so much he’d like to tell you too, all the things you deserve and probably need to hear from him, but can’t either. He feels you start to tighten up on him, the heat in your body suddenly seeming to flush higher and brighter, almost to boiling, your cunt going so, so tight it almost pushes him out. He presses inside harder, holds you in place with one hand, and thrums fast and hard at your clit with the other, focusing the tip of his cock at the front wall of your pussy, “You’re gonna come–” he grunts, holds you in place and hammers into that swollen place inside of you he’d kill to own for the rest of his life. “Fuck– fuck, you’re gonna squirt all over my cock, aren’t you? Can feel it–” Your face spasms, your belly clenching hard and tight, and you gush, letting out a pained, animal sound, voice broken and breathless, wetting both of your thighs with your come, the bed covers beneath soaked dark. Joel doesn’t stop. He wants more, again, all of you, thrums again at your clit with the pads of his fingers, changes the angle of your hips to roll you fast and hard onto his come-slicked length, pinches your clit hard, watches you squirt all over him again. Something like the sound of his name leaves your mouth in a broken cry, your chewed raw nails trying to claw at him ineffectively. “Dirty fucking girl – creamin’ all over your daddy’s cock,” his voice is gruff, not entirely his own. There’s something here – you’d told him once you’d always felt out of control. In your relationship with Sam, aware of what he was, always, of what you were and were not, and that there was something about control that was so necessary to you now. And there is something here like control, your control over him, taking hold of him entirely so he’s unsure of what it is he should and should not be, here and now, with you. He should not be delusional, he should be aware. He is not adhering to either very well. 

He goes to his feet with you still impaled on his throbbing length, erection so hard it hurts, can barely stand up straight, blood pounding on rhythm to the chant of your name. He pulls you from him, watches the slick slide of your cunt walls dragging along his length, the cream of your slick left as a reminder all over his skin. He presses you onto the bed, rolls you this way and that too look at you all over, bends to drag his tongue through that drippy cunt of yours that squirts and comes so prettily for him, then back up and kneeling above you, between your glossy thighs, and thrusting into that tight cunt, grunting as you clench around him. So hard he feels the screaming tip of his cock punch against your cervix, listens to you make a hurt, hiccupy sound when his balls slap against you.

He should be gentle. He should be careful. He should be aware, not delusional, himself. He should reach back and take hold of that man he always thought himself to be, hard and cold but never cruel. Maybe not good, but always aware and never weak. He’s none of those things now here with you. Joel is now only himself. You’ve made me into a real person, you’d whispered onto his tongue. What he’d not told you was that you’d done the same to him. 

You’re a gift, a gift, a gift, a gift. A gift in the way his son never was. A gift in the way that a whole lifetime lost and returned to him never was, and Joel is weak and two feet tall and made of paper, but for you. Anyways, or despite it all, still made only for you. 

“Fuck me like you’re in love with me,” you say, read his mind, take hold of the beating mass in his chest. Fuck me like you’re in love with me. And maybe you don’t mean it. Maybe you’re too far gone. It doesn’t matter.

He does it anyway. Pulls back, wedges back inside the too swollen, too sensitive, too tiny cunt that belongs to him. He bears his teeth at you, grabs hold of your face so hard you’ll bruise, and fucks you like he’s in love with you. It comes to him so easily, after all. 

Shoving his knees high up beneath your thighs, he brings your ankles to his shoulders, little feet knocking against his ears, he wishes for sense, he finds none, only a deeper, sharper angle. The sounds of your cries and the things you whisper in his ear he knows you should not say and he should not listen to that fill him full of things he should not feel like I was made for you and daddy, there’s no one like you and come inside me, please, please, I need it. He pulls his hips back, swings them forward, listens to the sound of his balls slap, and you beg for harder, savors the fire that pools in his belly and the base of his spine. And he thinks that he should pull out, he’s been so fucking careless with you and your future and your vulnerability, but he’s like a monster full of greed, intent on nothing but staking his claim, leaving a claim, desperate for a way to be remembered or never forgotten or never left behind. “We have to be careful,” he begs you, and feels scared and terrible for a moment, not to be trusted with a gift like this in his hands. “I’m going to get you fucking pregnant, God.”

But you’re like some siren, something taking him away from himself, and you tell him, “I don’t care, I don’t care,” voice gone so far away from yourself too, all hazy, full of bubbles and too cock drunk to be true or sane, but it lands like a gut punch anyway. And Joel tries to hold onto himself he does, he swears he does, tries to remain rational, and aware of what this was supposed to be and not supposed to be. Tells you to please, “Shut up, shut up. Please, don’t say those things to me, I’m begging you.” But eventually that siren song wins out, the feel of your cunt sucking him deeper, milking him dry, your small damp hands pulling at his hair, stubby nails dragging down the skin of his cheeks, over his back, and Joel’s weak now. Weak and full of want and greed and delusion so that all that’s left is capitulation and: “You want daddy to fuck his babies into you? You want me to fill you up and keep you forever?” But something of himself must remain because he covers your mouth, big hand wrapped around your sweaty little face before you can answer, forcing the words silent inside of your mouth, the truth you both know you’d spit out otherwise. Yes, yes, I do. And as if the idea of you carrying his child held a direct like to your orgasm, you start to come around him, overwhelmed cunt, split in two and carved in the shape of his name now, clenching around him, going so wet and hot and tight Joel’s sure he’ll never be able to leave it ever again. You reach down between the two of you, grasp the half of his cock outside of your wet clutch, shiny with your slick and jack him off with sharp little tugs, make sure he fills you with his spend full to the brim. He spills over and out, dribbles down the slope of your ass to leave you lying in a little puddle of his semen, and when he pulls out, careful to not ask you to hold all of his weight over you, he brings your fingers to your gaping cunt, “Feel where daddy’s been,” lets you play in the imprint of himself he’s left behind. 

He lays beside you, steaming hot little thing worming up against him, nuzzling beneath his chin, pressing tiny kisses that tell him all the things the both of you need to hear and say, and he feels himself go cool and dry inside and out. Something terrible suddenly swelling within him. Something that reeks of truth, and you must smell it in the air as well because you share a piece of your own painful honesty with him, force him to confront it. “Sometimes I think I’m impossible to love,” in the smallest voice he’s surely ever heard. 

“Haven’t I shown you how untrue that is?” Because if there’s one thing he’ll never do with you, it’s lie.

You tuck your hand beneath your cheek, and you glow, and he feels blinded by it for a moment, eyes wide and so vulnerably tender, something afraid that makes something equally vulnerable inside of him rage and beat its chest. “Is that what this is? Are we in love, Joel?”

He thinks you must see the fear in his eyes, because yours suddenly go calm, fathomless, something steady for him to hold on to, and that stench of honesty chokes him. “Yeah–” he nods, swallows, thinks of his son, hates himself. “I think so, baby.”

-

What can remain the same after honesty like that? After splitting yourself open and showing each other your insides in such a way? What could possibly remain the same? Nothing. The truth is laid bare, and all that’s left now. And instead of setting you free, the truth never really sets you free, it makes everything terribly fraught and frightened and fragile. 

When he moves to stand, the sound of your desperation for him to make you his in an irreversible way rings like exploding shrapnel in your ears, “Do you think we’re bad?” You ask because you’ve only ever wanted to be good, but his eyes are so haunted, large and round and fathomless. His face, taking on a sudden sort of gauntness as he thinks of what to say to you after the worst has already been said. You watch the line of his throat ripple as he swallows several times, reading the real truth in his eyes before he shakes his head slowly, incongruous like a lie, “Never you,” and he does not include himself, “Never you.” It’s devastating. Devastating that the only thing that’s ever mattered, the thing that has finally made you good, is bad in his eyes. 

You sit at the kitchen table, watching him while he makes dinner for you. Cold and shivery and wet between your legs in a way that’s not comfortable anymore. In a way that feels like an essential part of you is slowly dripping out, leaving you grossly empty inside. The beautiful dinner he’d bought and made for you tastes like ash wrapped in all the honesty surrounding the two of you, and you stare at each other and there's no need for more words because the truth is all right here in front of the two of you to see with your own two eyes. You want to go get dressed, but you don’t want to call attention to the seed of wrongness that’s been planted now. Are we in love? When the answer had so obviously been yes for so long already. Naive, silly girl. And you want to be angry with him. Ask him why he’d done this to you, made you fall in love with him when he’d said before that you couldn’t, when it was all so hopeless. You also want to hear him say it, say the words out loud with teeth and tongue and sound, you want to taste the words in your mouth because seeing them in his eyes wrapped in all that hopelessness isn’t nearly enough to satiate this hunger he’s stoked inside of you. You want to ask him to hold you, to crawl into his lap and have him cradle you like a child protected in the embrace of stronger, wiser arms. You want to have never been put on this path, to have never met his son, never have married him, never have met him. You want the whole terrible ordeal to be wiped from mind and mouth and memory. You want to have not had to accept it all, not have moved on, not be grateful in ways you can’t even understand for the lesson it’d all posed. You want it all to have never happened. To never have experienced the entire convoluted mess of feelings this ordeal of tearing down your entire life to make yourself anew had caused. To have never fallen in love with your ex-husbands father. 

He sits in his chair, hands cupping his chin for so long, silent and staring, probably wondering what to do with you, and when he finally stands, nothing but a long, pained sigh to interrupt the terrible silence, you finally muster the strength to go find that missing bra. Crawl home, once again a ghoul in the night in need of wound licking. And it must be that very same terrible silence, the even more terrible look in his eyes that has something pressurized, set to burst, bottled inside of you because when a knock on the door sounds once again, you don’t even stop for half a thought, exploding suddenly. In his clothes and come, ripping the door open, the words on your tongue ready to spit at her that he’s already got one desperate woman on his hands that needs taking care of, and no, he will not be fixing her dishwasher or her pussy or anything else she thinks she might need him for. 

But it’s not the neighbor. And you have nothing but fear lodged in your throat to spit out when you meet his eyes. 

Eyes like his father’s, colder, crueler, furious and humiliated, take you in. Just fucked hair and a flannel that’s not your own, mis-buttoned, come-dryed thighs. And worst of all, his voice, like he isn’t even that surprised, like he’d come here just to find this, “You fucking whore.”

“Sam–” you’re not sure if you actually say his name, but the intention is held there, on the tip of your tongue. A plea for mercy or a shout for help or protection or something. 

“You fucking whore,” and you flinch at the scream in his throat, scuffle back into the safety of the house of the man you love who is the father of the man you were married to, the man who broke you, the betrayed son. He’s shocked still for a single second, before he’s charging at you, fist not entirely raised but definitely held with consideration. And, “I knew it, I always fucking knew it,” before Joel is there, stepping between you and your ex-husuband, his son, blocking you with his body, big hand wrapping entirely around your forearm to hold you close to himself, to hold you in his protection. 

“You better put your fucking arm down before I break it, son.” That moment, Joel’s voice, the utter betrayal in his son’s eyes. The sound of you breaking something that you should have never ever gotten in between. It is worse than all the rest. You take him in, the sight of this man who you used to be married to, he’d always seemed so large in your eyes before, so unattainable. Something never to be fully touched, only gazed upon. Always apart, always cold. Sam’s eyes fall to the place where his father holds you, and his face spasms, something terrible. Broken and alone, a child cast out into the cold. And you want to say that he seems so different now, haggard and gaunt and whittled down to bare bones, but it isn’t the truth. You always knew what he was, your most terrible bit of honesty. You always knew, you’d just not cared before. There was never any separation, no space for you to take a breath and want better for yourself. To be under his scrutiny, something that at one time felt like admiration, but was never anything even close, it was like nothing else, like everything, a great lie. But he was too aware of it, of himself, of that power he held over you, and unlike his father, he was cruel with it. Your eyes move up to the back of Joel’s head, the hard edge of his jaw, the muscle that spasms furiously there. What would it do to you now to be under that same sort of attention, influence, admiration, but from a kinder, gentler, honest source? What had it done to you? Dangerous to risk yourself again, impossible to stop now. 

“I always knew it,” he says again, “I always knew you wanted him. What? You let him fuck you?” The words in his mouth are a terrible thing, Joel says something, tells him to hold his tongue, to get the fuck out, but your eyes are riveted on the sight of his face, this man you used to be married to who’d broken you so completely, who’d stolen your very memory of yourself. He seems wholly unrecognizable now, and in a way, it frightens you, that someone you’d known for what seemed like so long could be such a stranger now. Joel’s hand is an anchor, such a comfort wrapped around your arm. “You barely let me touch you for two years, but you’ll bend over like a whore for my fucking Dad?” His voice breaks and it makes you want to laugh a little bit. 

Joel shoves him backward, jerking you forward still in his hold. “Say that word one more time in my house, and I won’t be held responsible for what I do to you. And don’t fucking look at her,” he snaps, reaching up to give him a quick two tapped slap on the cheek to focus his gaze on himself. “Get out, Sam. I’ll call you later. We can–”

But unheeded or too far gone, like he needs to hear the sound of the words as a comfort to himself in this moment, Sam looks back at you, “You’re a fucking whore. I wish I’d never met you, I hate you.” Joel shoves him backwards again, harder this time so that his leg slams into the side table, overturning the lamp there into a crashing heap on the floor, so hard that when he pulls you with him it feels as if he’ll wrench your shoulder from its socket with the force of his anger. You yelp in pain, but cling to him anyways, refusing to let him go either, hiding behind the hill of his shoulder. Pushing his son away, not letting you go. It’s wrong, it’s wrong and you’d told him that you wanted to keep him, to take him away from his own son, that you were made of nothing but greed, but there’s something wrong here, inherently not right, bad. 

And even yet, you can’t help the look on your face that must surely be nothing short of humiliating to Sam for the way he reddens, the little muscles in his face jerking uncontrollably. You’re done here, Sam. Get the fuck out, Joel says again, taking a step forward to herd him out, pulling you along, keeping you close. You taunt him with your gaze, can’t help yourself, “I thought I was a prude?” You say from behind the protection of his father’s body. “Isn’t that what you called me for all those years? Thought I was frigid, unfuckable, unlovable? Am I not anymore?” You ask in a small, breathy voice, falsely guileless, entirely provoking. “Have you changed your mind now that I’ve taken your Daddy from you?” False pout and mocking eyebrow.

Joel’s head snaps over his shoulder, incredulous look on his face, and Sam flinches as if struck, splintered glass in the shape of his son’s gaze, it fractures, falls back to where Joel holds you.“I wanted to talk to you,” He says to his father, “I wanted to– You’re really choosing her over me?” It costs Sam something to say this, and you weren’t expecting it either because suddenly, the game changes. His voice is child-like in its hurt, that son who longed for his father for all those years. “After everything that was stolen from us, you’re not going to choose me?” You know in that moment, he’s won. 

“This isn’t about choice, son,” Joel tells him, but you hear it for the lie it is. “This isn’t about you versus her.”

“But it is,” and his eyes flash to yours, victory held in them. “She was my wife. And you’re my father, and you have to make a choice now. This is fucking sick.” There’d always been an intelligence to his cruelty, and he wields it now. The sound of his son’s name is a choked thing in Joel’s mouth. He goes rigid, a painful stillness, muscles vibrating with warring emotions. You hold your breath for it. He looks down at where he holds you, tightens his grip painfully, and then slowly, so that the three of you are sure to take in the whole procession of it, he lets go of your arm. One finger at a time, the heat of his palm leaving you, and you’re alone. 

“It isn’t about choice,” he says again, and yet, one has already been made. You stand still, head bent, gaze riveted on the place where he’d let you go. He takes a step away from you, towards his son, and his voice is low and gentle and soothing now, and you’re still staring at the barrenness of your arm.

I had such potential to be good, you think. He just never saw it. But you don’t know who you mean. And you don’t think it matters anymore. 

They say more to each other. Joel’s hand on his son’s arm now, pushing him towards the door, but still, still comforting for the thing it symbolizes, a benediction of choice, and you turn around to face the other side of the room. You can’t look – wrapping your arms around yourself. You don’t think you’ll run this time. Face it head on, let it be over now in full. Sam’s voice rings shrill, the sound of your name and curses and accusations, fighting a futile fight against his father’s even baritone, the sound of the slamming door, and then silence. When you turn back over your shoulder, they’ve stepped outside together, leaving you alone inside the house. 

He’d asked you once what you wanted, and you can’t fathom what the point of it had been. What does it matter what I want? That’s the least significant thing here. It always was. 

When he finally comes back inside, you’re dressed, lost bra retrieved, your bag packed and sitting at your feet. You’d gone into the kitchen just before, taken a peek at the pie, and you were right, and you don’t know how he could have possibly known, but he’d gotten you rhubarb. Your face is dry now, no tears and no will to cry. There’s nothing to speak of in his gaze when he leans back against the door to look at you, swallowing down words you’re sure will mean nothing in the face of all of this. And you look at him and you love him and you think, I was married to a man once and now I’m not and now I’m with his father and I love him in the way I never loved the son; and so now, I must ask myself, am I merely looking for the love of lesser man, who could have never given me what I needed, in the eyes of a man who seems to have all the answers? 

You don’t think so. And yet, there are still no answers to be had, and no questions left to ask. 

“I’m going this time,” In case he has designs to force you to stay, and even though there’s a light of acceptance in his eyes, he still shakes his head. Swallows and gathers his seams about himself before he says, “You aren’t leaving me,” gaze churning from warry to flinty to resolved. 

“I was never supposed to stay at all. I was never supposed to be for you. You said so yourself– you said we couldn’t fall in love. That I wasn't for you.” You get to your feet, pulling your purse over your shoulder, and he rushes towards you, pushing the bag back down to the floor, taking your face in his hands hard, something like panic in his eyes and in the air and in the vibration of his voice.

“It doesn’t matter, none of that matters– Whatever was before, whatever was in the past doesn’t mean shit when it’s just you and me here together–” And you’re crying now, real, great sobs of grief. 

“You were the one that said we couldn’t fall in love,” you cry again, try and pull away, but he holds you to himself, squeezes you against him, shivers like he too is crying, burying his face in your shoulder. 

“I was a fucking idiot, a damn liar. There was never any other option, baby.” Most terrible of terrible truths, you’d both known if for the lie it was the moment he’d said it, even before, probably. You stand limply in the circle of his embrace. He’d said once that he’d been a coward not to go out and look for you, but you know the opposite is true. No one is more of a coward than you were for not having waited for him. For having been so desperate for love, you’d been willing to settle for the wrong kind. You’ll never be able to settle for false comfort like that again, and it’s all his fault. “You’ve ruined me now. I’m ruined.”

He pulls back to take your face in his hands again, and you were right, he is crying. “I’m ruined! And I need you to give me another chance. I demand another chance– to… to fix this. To–”

But another chance for what? To change what? “He’s your son, and I only want you to be happy.” And you know he couldn’t ever be happy, truly happy, estranged from his only child. After all, like he’d said, the theft of him had been the worst thing ever done. You wouldn’t commit a crime like that against Joel also, never. 

“Baby, please, I think… I– I love–”

“Please–” You press the tips of your fingers to his mouth, silencing him. “Please, don’t do this to me now.” It makes you angry, this intent of his to trap you here with his love when there’s no room for you to stay. You turn away, picking up your bag again, but he snatches you back into himself, wrapping his big arms around your waist, crushing you against his chest. And you’d struggle if you could, but there’s so little fight left in you. “You’re the one that said – you said we couldn’t!”

“I know what I fucking said,” he spits, voice so angry it almost frightens you. “But there’s still– We have to talk, we have to–”

“What can you possibly imagine there’s left to say?”

“Everything.”

“Or nothing.”

“Look at me. Look at me–” He pulls your head back and to the side by your chin. There’s a bright flush sitting high on his cheekbones, and his eyes shift quickly back and forth between yours, searching for a way to fix this. To fix the good thing that’s now been broken. His thumb strokes the point of your chin softly, and he presses his mouth slowly to yours, eyes open to watch for your reaction. “This wasn’t a mistake,” he tells you, “We weren’t a mistake.” Weren’t. The final nail in the coffin. “I know, I know that there are so many things– that we can’t… but just– just stand here with me for one minute, please. Just give me one more second, and I’ll–”

He doesn’t finish the thought, and you let him kiss you one last time. And when he pulls back, because it doesn’t feel like it really matters, and because you just want to hear the sound of it coming out of your mouth, because you wish it was true and not the complete opposite, because you want to be as cruel and ugly outside as you feel on the inside, you whisper, “I hate you,” a full bodied lie. 

His eyes shutter and flicker for a moment, a wash of hurt suffusing them. But because he’s never been a weak man and because he’s always been honest, and he’s always, always above everything else, been good, he says, “And I love you,” and there it is. You’d thought you wanted to hear the sound of that too, but now that you have, it’s more terrible than you could have ever possibly imagined. And after that, there really is nothing left to say. 

-

Joel goes to see his brother afterwards because it’s what he always does and who he always goes to when he’s lost. When a son in the shape of a man made of nothing but childish fear and anger and hurt, had appeared one day, dropped out of the blue sky, onto his front porch, when he realized he wanted his daughter-in-law in a way no good man should. And now, that he’s admitted, because the realization had already been there, swift and uncompromising, the admittance had been all that was left, the hard going part, that he was in love with you – in love with the woman who had been married to his son, here he finds himself again. Lost and weak and two feet tall, made of nothing but hollow bones. “I’m not myself,” he tells Tommy, and then amends the lie because he’s not come here to tell lies. “She’s made me into someone I don’t recognize and wish I could be forever.” How would he get his old self back now? Impossible. You’d taken him away with you, he was only half made now, half man, half strength. And Tommy is understanding because it has always only been the two of them, and he’s always seen Joel for exactly who he is without judgement. The most honest eyes in the whole world, his brother. “I'm afraid that she’s the love of my life. I’m afraid that I’m not really so afraid at all. And she won’t even talk to me.” You’d left his house a week and a day ago, and Joel was going out of his mind, losing pieces of himself along the way, his sanity, his sense of right and wrong, his self restraint, self possession. He was about to do something crazy, he felt it gnawing and itching at his bones. He could barely remember the look of betrayal in his own son’s eyes amidst the madness of the memory of the hurt in yours, the sight of you walking away from him. “And my son. My son, my child, Tommy, he hates me. And I’m in love with the woman he used to be married to, who he hurt. And he’s a cruel and small man, and he needs me. He needs my help, and I have a responsibility to him. But Tommy– Tommy, I love her. She’s mine. And what am I going to do? What am I going to say to him? How will I ever face him again? She’s mine, and I– I can’t explain it, I can’t excuse it. But she’s mine– she’s my woman. She belongs to me. I know this as well as I know my own name, my own face.”

And his brother, his brother, his brother who always understands him, who always stands beside him, he claps him on the shoulder and says, “If anyone can find a way, Joel, it’s you. I know you can. You’re stronger and smarter than anyone I’ve ever known. And you don’t abandon yours.” And so Joel must believe him because Tommy is his brother, and he knows him, and he knows that even though he’s weak now, even if he must let himself be weak now, in the face of all of this, Joel is not truly a weak man where it counts. 

-

You and Sam had only ever spoken once on the topic of children. It was, from the first moment broached, a non possibility, not even half of an option. Devastating, but now, all this time later, almost like a grace from God. You’d wanted a baby so badly, more than anything in the whole world, and he would not give you one. He’d said your desire for a child was incongruous with your cold nature, how frigid you were. 

And you’d been so long, caught in the who am I, in the what am I doing. You never stopped to ask why. Molded into a bad shape, but mute and deaf to the intricacies of what had carved you so. You’d needed to destroy yourself entirely, tear down everything around yourself, and then recreate yourself and everything else in your life in a new image. Perhaps, then, you’d finally have the chance to be good.

Your husband’s father had given you this. Joel had given you this. 

And Joel, Joel, Joel, Joel. How to tell him that you’re sorry? That you’re vile and cruel and yes, even cold sometimes, but for him, for him you can find it in yourself to be soft, something to be forgiven, you hope. His son had called you a prude, and then, his father’s whore. Did it matter what the truth was? You weren’t so sure. Did you want Joel because you were a whore? Because your own father had never loved you, and you were thus desperate to fill that void left by lesser, crueler men? Did it matter? You hated the idea that this desire for him had to have been born by consequence of another man. What about what you wanted? What about the fact that it felt good when he was inside of you? When he gave it to you rough and hard and when he told you that you belonged to him because you did, because it was the truth. What about the fact that you were in love with him? That should have counted more because you said it counted more. And then that was it, nothing more to the thing of it. So what if he was the father of the man who’d been your husband? The man who’d stolen all of your surety, your passion, yourself. Sometimes, retribution feels fucking good. So what about it? And then, and after all, you were in love with him. So what did it all matter after that? 

People liked to say that sometimes a bad thing is worth it if it feels good enough. But what if you didn't think it was bad at all, and what if it didn’t just feel good enough? What if it’s actually everything, the best thing you’d ever had in your whole life? And what if it is simply and solely, or maybe even also, who cares, who cares, what if it is simply because it’s Joel? Joel who is beautiful and strong and good. Maybe even perfect in a way that you need. 

He’d told you once that he’d never had the chance to be angry, that it had been stolen from him, the worst thing ever done to me, he’d said. You know that you could never do that to him. Never hurt him in that way. And there might be so many options. Choices. Truths. Yourself. Finally, you are only yourself. Good in the way he’d shown you to be. In a way that did not bow to anything but the sort of goodness you needed. But Joel; above all else, Joel. He is the first choice, and everything else seems inconsequential after that. What is goodness worth in the face of all he’s given you? 

So, you sit now, within the basin of your empty bathtub, no more leaky kitchen sink echoing through your empty apartment, he’d fixed it weeks ago, and peer over the lip of the tub. And there, blinking up at you from the face of the skinny pink and white stick, is your answer to goodness. It had always been within yourself. And you think, if it must be just the two of us now, then let it. After all, your father has finally taught me how to be good. 

End.

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[icanseethefuture333]

Glamour Witch 🕯

A guide to confidence, beauty, & self love 🪞🩰🦢🍒💌

How I made glamour magick efficient for me and why working with the goddess Aphrodite shifted my self concept + help me connect to the divine feminine 🕊

First let's do a back story on my relationship with my matron 🌸:

My spiritual awakening happened when I was 17 years old after experiencing the loss of a loved one and coping with past trauma. I went into my adolescence with fear, agony, and poor self esteem. I was very much so a tomboy as a teenager (to this day I still have masculine qualities that I am now proud of and balanced it with my feminine side) but I was so out of touch with what being a "girl" was. I felt really self conscious about not being "woman" enough and had a complicated view on my gender (since I realized I was nonbinary at 14). I became interested in the occult since I grew up in a spiritual household (crystals, manifestation, etc) but never really got to engage with things like tarot or witchcraft because it was considered taboo. I had a reading done one day and I was told that Aphrodite wanted to work with me as my deity. My teenage self was confused by this because I thought - "The goddess of beauty and love wanted to work with me? Well that can't be right." I was expecting something more dark or cool like Hades or Hermes or whatever because that was just my personal style since I dressed very alternatively. I was nervous, but also intrigued. As I begun to pray to her and started doing spellwork - I felt safe, I felt loved, it was like a mother watching over me. I started learning how to do makeup for my ethnic features and became more educated about fashion and what it means to really be a true feminist. I learned to say fuck the binary system and made my own definition of not what just being a "woman" is but also what being "feminine" meant to me, period. You can be whatever you want to be and be beautiful regardless of what your appearance is like. Some days I want to wear snapbacks and sneakers, other times I wanna wear high heels with a flattering dress. I do what makes me feel comfortable and that's nobody's business but mine. Society made us believe that being sensitive, caring, or intuitive - the traits of the divine feminine (which we have in us all) as bad when it's not. There's strength in being soft and delicate. Be gentle towards yourself, my loves.

Embrace your shadow self to manifest your dream life ✨️:

You know what people will never tell you or admit to you on social media? Is that you can be self conscious and still be confident at the same time. Confidence is just being comfortable with yourself and knowing despite what you've been through or are feeling in the moment, it should not hold you back from achieving your fullest potential. Like Megan Thee Stallion said "Bad bitches have bad days too" And it's true! I have my good days and then I have my bad days, but even when I'm doubting or losing my faith, I always get back up by keep going. Why? It's because if I stop then I'm not living. I'm not being grateful for the life I still have while there are people out there battling severe illnesses and don't have much time left. Nobody wants to be candid and only want to portray themselves as perfect, when nobody is. It's a damaging narrative to think you have to be popping on social media and always staying positive. I don't know why being vulnerable is such a stigma these days. Everyone is scared of being hurt, sure, but there is so much power in knowing what you makes you happy and being able to voice what your wants/needs are. You get to live for yourself and not what others want you to be. Not to mention the importance of having the power and ability to set the boundaries your inner child probably never got to have?! I'm so tired of people spreading the belief of that you shouldn't talk about mental health, trauma, or personal fears because it makes you seem "weak" or "easy prey". That is the same tactics abusers use to make their victims stay hushed and makes them not able to stand up for themselves. That way of thinking is victim blaming! If you as a person, feel brave enough to discuss what the fuck is going on in your mind that does not make you a weakling, that makes you strong as hell. They are the weak ones for taking advantage of people who were already suffering. It's time to forgive yourself for your past mistakes and acknowledge what happened, but do not let it control you. You don't have to let go or get over it, it's okay if it's still a wound for you but you can choose to make it better by creating a better future by working with your higher self. Think about who you want to be, how you want to appear, what career you aspire to have, etc. Either write it down, visualize, or make a vision board. Release the old version of you and thank them for helping you survive.

I have been reading the book Mirror Work by Louise Hay and it entails about how the negative things people said or the difficult experiences we had dealt with in our lifetime gets stored in our subconscious mind. When we make jokes that are self depreciating or engage in self degrading behavior, it harms us even more, preventing us from maturing or loving ourselves. Doing shadow work is uncomfortable for everyone but it is a must to process the patterns in your life and learn as to why you become the person you are today. Being aware of your triggers and what makes you tick. Can make you more emotionally intelligent and be able to have a healthier conversation as well as creating lasting positive connections.

Books I recommend for subconscious reprogramming, shadow work, & healing from trauma:

Mirror Work by Louise Hay

"The Courage to" book series by Ichiro Kishimi & Fumitake Koga

Boundaries by Dr. Henry Cloud & Dr. John Townsend

The Power of Now by Eckhart Tolle

The Self Confidence Workbook by Barbara Markway & Celia Ampel

Psychology of The Unconscious by Dr. Carl Jung

It Didn't Start With You by Mark Wolynn

You can also find shadow work prompts on pinterest.

Don't just say it, do it! 11 ways to actually practice self care:

Making a goal and actually putting the effort in can be tough for some individuals, especially for those diagnosed with depression. That's why it's important to be patient with yourself and understand that healing is a journey, not a race! A youtuber I have been enjoying and watching lately is the critically acclaimed, thewizardliz: An Iranian woman who gives advice on confidence, discipline, and more! A video that I watched of hers recently was called and bluntly titled: "How to stop being lazy & pathetic". In most of liz's videos she is someone who is tough but is also tender. She explains that when we are procrastinating it's because we are thinking of just the end goal, which scares us and makes us overthink about what to do or how to do it. When really, we can just take small, simple steps at a time to reach towards what we wish yo accomplish, so that way it will feel less intimidating. If you have a essay that's due for example, try to write a few sentences each day, or think about how good it would feel if you were to get a good grade on your paper. Think of it this way - Would you rather slack and be upset you failed? Or would you rather prevent that from happening so you can be proud of what you achieved? Figure out what motivates you as a person and write it down so you can always be reminded of the confident being you wish to become.

Journaling: This is such a crucial hobby that I believe everyone should have. Writing down your thoughts or feelings helps not only increases your intelligence and brain health, but it also helps navigate your feelings better when you are facing a problem. You are able to reflect inward and discover the different parts of your psyche that you never knew you had.

Art: Divine feminine energy embodies the source of creation and life. The same way people with wombs give birth to children, an artist's project can be their beautiful baby. Find what type of art form brings you peace and allows you to express yourself (poetry, songwriting, dancing, painting, woodcarving, etc).

Exercise: I know this is something that some people struggle with (me included 💀) and when people hear that it's like "Ugh, I don't wanna work out! It's too hard!" but just hear me out okay? We have to exercise so our internal organs can stay healthy. When we don't take care of ourselves by not at least taking 15 minutes out of our day by owalking, exercising, or cardio, when there is 24 hours in a day... That is a major neglect to yourself. Just remember that it is a privilege that you still have the ability to move, jump, lift, run, squat, and even more. When there are people who suffer from chronic pain and disabilities that are still making sure to take care of their physical health because they have no other choice. When you think about how you're too "lazy" and you can't do it because of your "laziness", think of those people! Cherish the health that you have before it's too late. You can start by stretching, going for walks, or watching workout videos for beginners on YouTube.

Build a schedule: Having a routine is so important because it helps reduce stress and organizes the task that we have to do throughout our day. Make a sleep schedule for yourself as well. Going to bed late until 3 am in the morning or waking up too early is unsafe and makes you less alert when you are out in the world. So please be careful! Try to at least get 6 hours of sleep a day. Drinking tea, taking a warm bath, or using essential oils can help you fall asleep if you don't like using melatonin.

Cleanliness & Hygiene: It's unfortunate that I have to say this but some people were not taught by their parents on how to be clean. Or how cishet men feel that being hygienic is "gay". That's absurd! Everyone should have a clean house, clean body, and a good hygiene routine. There is no excuse for that. Even when I was depressed I still would get up to brush my teeth or wash my hair because I knew that if I were to ever go too long without taking care of my hygiene I'd have to deal with damaging my teeth, hair, or skin. Everything has a cause and effect when you neglect doing self care and that could also be apart of the reason why you feel so down about your looks is due to that lack of poor hygiene. It doesn't have to be anything extravagant or you need to do a 10 step skincare routine all the time. You can buy beauty products for cheap at off price retail stores and combs, toothbrushes, etc, at the dollar store. All you gotta do is wash your face and shower daily (scrub in between your ass cheeks, please and thank you 💀), brush your teeth at least 3 or more times a day, moisturize with lotions, use a sunscreen (cus nobody got time for skin cancer), apply deodorant, and that's literally it. You can use toners, serums, and skin treatments if you feel like iy but it's not neccessary unless you have specific concerns (acne, wrinkles, etc).

Personal finance 💵: As a Capricorn ♑️, there is nothing more important to me than having my own money. Knowing how to budget and being responsible with your funds is so crucial. You can manifest prosperity and be wealthy, but if you don't know what to do with a million dollars, how could you ever receive it? It is so attractive when someone is wise with their money. I took elective classes in high school for commercial art, marketing, and personal finance so that way I could learn to how to be independent as an adult and not have to "hustle" or live the struggle life. Always take care of your household bills (utilities, repairs, gas for the car, etc.) first and then leave a certain amount for yourself for when you want to have fun, go shopping, etc. Learn about how to make an investment, as well as stocks, because that is another way that you can make a lot of money (and no I don't mean Crypto or NFTs 😭)

Education is key 📚: READ HEAUXS REEEEAD 👓 Make those sapiosexuals quiver with your big sexy brain 🧠. I just feel like in general we need to be knowledgeable about our history and *Jaden Smith voice* the political state of the world right now. Being dismissive and ignorant is a major turn off. You have to be able to know how to communicate in certain settings or talk about certain subjects, or else you're gonna just look and sound dumb. I don't care if you like to read about insects or flowers, just find a topic that interests you.

Boundaries: A simple way to start implementing self care into your daily routine is by being able to say "Yes." Or "No." I know for women it is hard to assert themselves and say no especially when there is a grimy ass man tryna flirt with you (ayoooo shawty 🤓), but for your own protection you gotta do it. When people know you are not stern and you are not able to defend yourself, they take advantage of that. It makes you an easy target. Let's say for a example, you have a overbearing parent that constantly drains and takes from your energy. This parent doesn't respect you and makes you feel bad about yourself because you let them. When they ask you for something, you can just say; "Thank you but I will not be doing that. It would be an inconvenience for me right now because I have to focus on ___" or "I would prefer not to do that because I have to do ___ this week and it's very important". Even if it's not anything actually important, still say no. Another example is if you have a friend that's toxic and is not elevating you in any type of way (mentally, emotionally, or finacially). Then tell them that and cut them off. You are not obligated to stay around anyone who brings you down. Here is a list of ways to set boundaries professionally. Also learn to stop over apologizing here is what you can do instead. Margot Robbie learned to say "Thank you" instead of saying "sorry" because of Barbie.

Meditation 🧘🏽‍♀️: A useful skill in embracing your thoughts, whether they are positive or negative, to help in finding your inner zen. Meditation was something that was tricky for me at first. Most people say to "empty your mind and be still" when meditating and for someone with ADHD, I was like... "Umm, this is boring 💀???" but overtime I tried it a few times again and have grown to appreciate it! I learned that meditation was actually quite helpful for me, especially when I felt burdened with too many tasks, or was dealing racing thoughts. It just really helped me calm down, especially when I was feeling overwhelmed (for people who experience sensory overloads I highly recommend!). I no longer feel ashamed or fearful of when a intrusive thought crosses my mind. I just simply let that thought pass through and go on about my day. The average young adult has over 6,000 thoughts a day, so why would I give something so meaningless power? I am in control of myself and what I react to. For this, it will allow you to do the same.

Spend time with a loved one: I'm sure we all have someone who we consider our comfort person or a special pet that makes us feel calm. Humans are animals, sometimes we need that social interaction to stay sane during troubling times. Make a phone call, text, or plan to meet up with a friend or family member this week. Maybe even step out of your comfort zone and ask an acquaintance out for lunch.

Be brave: Remember what I said about stepping out of your comfort zone? That's right. It's time to stop living life of regrets and live a life of excitement. I want you to think about something you've been really wanting to do lately but haven't pursued it yet because of fear, doubt, or limiting beliefs. Take a deep breath and release it to the universe, your spirit guides, or any deity that you worship. Maybe there is a person you have a crush that you have been wanting to ask out lately or have been wanting to dye your hair a new color but were afraid of how it would turn out. Whatever it is, just have courage to go after what you want for once. For being brave is just about taking a leap of faith, even when you are scared.

How to awaken your inner goddess ✨️:

Loving yourself shouldn't be a chore, it should be a ritual baby 😌! Now for my beginner witches or practioners in closed practices. I know it can be intimidating to start doing deity work. That's why you have to take things slow and go at your own pace. I always recommend starting with doing a cleansing (burning incense, spraying florida water, etc) or a protection spell before doing any other kind of magick. Even though yes, I do worship Aphrodite, it is not neccessary for people to only go to her for a "glow up". There are sooooo many deities who are also gods or goddesses of love, beauty, etc. Naturally, a deity will show you signs that they wish to work with you, so makw sure to be on the look out for that!

Also if you are a woman of color like mwuahhh 😘 then here are a list of deities that also represent love, confidence, beauty, fertility, & creativity in African, Asian, Indigenous, & Pacific Islander religions:

Oshun (closed practice / Yoruba)

Yenaya (closed practice / Yoruba)

Hathor

Bastet

Isis

Astarte

Rati (Hinduism)

Lakshimi (Hinduism)

弁才天 / Benzaiten (Japanese Buddhism)

자청비 / Jacheongbi

仰阿莎 / Yang Asha

Liễu Hạnh

Mayari

Laka

Xochiquetzal

Estsanatlehi

Other deities are:

Apollo, Cupid, Eros, Priapus, Min, Brigid, & Dionyus

There is also ascended masters, saints, archangels, ancestors, & spirit guides that you can connect with. I recommend building a relationship with your ancestors first.

How to talk your deity:

Create an altar for them or a sacred space.

Cleanse the area to avoid interacting with trickster spirits.

Place offerings on the table (make sure to look up what offerings they like!).

Light a candle or burn incense for them.

Write them a letter or pray. You can ask them for help with your specific needs or just talk to them about your day or how you are currently feeling.

BE CONSISTENT! Deities are not one of your little friends, they are gods/goddesses. Show them respect by praying, including them in spellwork, and giving them offerings frequently (they are understanding if you cannot give them food or drinks all the time though if you cannot afford it).

The final boss, The Enchantress 🔮❄️:

"SHADOW MONEY WIZARD GANGGG! We love casting spells 😈"

Alright, alright. I know you guys were reading all this thinking "Bitch where tf is the tutorial??? 😭" BUT WHAT I HAD TO SAY WAS IMPORTANT SO YOU CAN HAVE LONG TERM RESULTS 💀! Here is the moment you've all been waiting forrr 🤭!

101 on Glamour Magick:

The days of the week are connected to the planets.

Friday is a good day for casting love and beauty spells since it's ruler is Venus. While on Monday you can cast spells for healing & enhancing psychic powers, since it's ruler is the Moon. Thursday's ruler is Jupiter so you can cast spells for money and prosperity.

Buy a mirror that is for your special use only (If someone ends up accidently using it it's okay nothing bad will happen to them). Spray it with a window cleaner and wipe it down counter clockwise, say what your intention is for the mirror as you clean it. You can buy any kind of mirror you like (compact mirror, hand held mirror, desktop mirror, etc).

You can use your mirror for scrying or seeing into the future (divination).

When doing your mirror work, look into your eyes, and affirm to yourself. It can be anything you wish to say. Just let it flow naturally. It might feel uncomfortable at first but as you continue to practice it you will feel more confident about it.

Include your deity while affirming. (When I do this, I show appreciation to Aphrodite, and thank her for blessing me with such beauty and grace. Even when in the moment I don't have the results I wish to see, I know it is going to happen because I have faith in her.)

Ask your ancestors what their beauty rituals and regimes were. Doing routines that your ancestors did will create a closer bond with them and also build confidence in your ethnic features.

Items that are represented as love: roses, cinnamon, honey, sugar, vanilla, coriander, basil, chamomile, carnations, tulips, lockets, keys, & hearts

Items that are represented as beauty: cowrie shells, orchids, peony, ribbons, veils, & bows

Items that help enhance intuition: seashells, conch shells, rosemary, lotuses, & feathers

Chinese guashas & jade rollers help reduce stress, tension, and puffiness in your facial muscles. It can also help sculpt your face.

African waistbeads were worn by women under their clothes to help slim their waist and also attract love. Depending on the crystals used, it would also help manifest abundance.

Some beauty crystals used for love, beauty, & intuition are: Rose quartz, jade, pink tourmaline, moonstone, amethyst, selenite, garnet, carnelian, and turquoise.

You can carve sigils or symbols onto your candle, an easy one to use is the venus symbol ♀️.

A list of meanings for the scents of the candle, wax, or deodorizer in your home. Here is the list for incense.

Candles are great to seal your spell jars or use on their own for magick.

A list of different burning sticks you can use (smudging, white sage, and Palo Santo is a closed practice)

The scent of your perfume can be used for seduction or attracting love/popularity.

Soap, shampoo, or conditioner can be used to cleanse your energy.

Ingredients in foods, cleaning, haircare, skincare, or beauty products can have magical properties that you can attract towards you or your home. (I.E: Lavendar for peace & tranquility, Lemon for warding off negative energy, & Vanilla for love)

"The hair theory" trend is a form of glamour magick. Doing your hair differently can create a new persona and change how people perceive you.

Depending on your hair color it can represent the elements.

Your hair texture can symbolize what power you have: Coily hair grows upward and rises towards the sun. When using their awareness, they are highly observant and courageous. Coily hair has the fire element. Curly hair breaks hexes and spiritually protects the mind. Due to it's volume and resemblance to a cloud, it has the air element. People with wavy hair are intuitive, affectionate, and sensitive, their element is water. Straight hair is the most connected to the earth. People with this hair texture can be introverted, dependable, and grounded.

Your hair length signifies your current state of energy.

Short hair is connected to father sky.

Long hair is connected to mother earth.

It is best to cut your hair when you are in need of releasing stress, anguish, and turmoil.

You can set your intentions into the hair that you braid.

Black people can cornrow patterns or symbols onto their scalp for manifestation.

Locs symbolize freedom and wisdom from the ancestors.

Twists can be used for spiritual binding.

Read here for more on hair witchcraft & hair astrology.

Wearing headscarves, hijabs, bonnets, durags, or hats can protect you from the evil eye or if you're an empath, it can protect your energy from being drained in public spaces.

Do not make any physical changes during a Venus retrograde.

Plastic surgery can alter one's identity. It is like putting on a different mask. It can become an addiction to people who feel lost in life. While for others it can give them a new path to start on.

You can paint sigils or symbols for nail art.

The nail shape you have or get done at a salon can correspond to Onychomancy (https://www.tiktok.com/@taisoleil/video/7035737221068082479?_t=8etXLhtR3LH&_r=1)

You can also use yours or other's eyebrows for divination.

Straight eyebrows: someone who is level headed. Round eyebrows: someone who is compassionate with a kind heart. Arched eyebrows: someone who is independent. Thick eyebrows: someone who can be stubborn and goal oriented. Thin eyebrows: someone who is bold and daring. No eyebrows: someone who is a risk taker and can be careless. The unibrow: symbolizes good luck, fertility, & serendipity.

Your eyelashes are for good luck (which is why people make a wish on fallen lashes, they are similar to dandelions).

Different lash styles can be used as a "barricade".

Manga/spiked lashes: makes you appear pure & innocent, can get away with stuff more. Fluffy lashes: depending on the thickness, it can resemble a spider, therefore can cause someone to have a intensive aura. Cat/hybrid lashes: Increase in clairvoyance, see past the 3D, and have the senses of a feline. Natural lashes: The gaze will be comforting and welcoming to others, they can see into your soul.

Your eye color can mean what powers you have for spells. Colored contacts can create a different outcome.

Glasses can be used for insight and enlightenment. While sunglasses or shades, can make you more mysterious/hide your identity.

For those with periods, cycle syncing can help with increasing productivity.

Depending on your body shape, weight, & features it could symbolize your status in society.

In ancient Greece, people who were voluptuous with plump bellies were seen as healthy & rich. It was a sign of being well fed and treated like royalty.

In Africa & Southeast Asia, long necks signify having dignity & elegance.

Being tall could be seen as powerful, while being short could be seen as delicate. If you are average height, you could be seen as harmonious.

Physiognomy is the method of using the face & body for divination. In China, it is a popular method for readings.

Moles, birthmarks, & skin tags are believed to be the sign of being a Witch.

Vitiligo can mean spiritual purification & finding beauty in your imperfections.

It has been said that freckles are kisses from the angels. These people themselves can be described as earth angels or have a closer connection with archangels.

The form of your freckles can symbolize different things. If they form in a straight line, it could mean you are a focused person. If they are scattered, you like to go with the flow in life. If your freckles come and go during the seasons, you like to experience change or excitement often in your life.

Freckles & beauty marks overall show signs of a person having a unique character.

The clothing you wear can have a mystical effect.

Baggy/layered clothing: spiritually protective. Revealing clothing: free spirited & alluring. Patterned clothing: Makes you illusive or hard to decipher. Animal print clothing: embodies the energy of said animal (I.E: Tiger print would make you appear cunning & fierce). Colorful clothing: your spirit will seem more youthful & vivacious.

The shoes you wear can make you walk into new opportunities unexpectedly.

You can keep a piece of paper that has a spell in your shoes for good luck or attracting your desire.

Buying shoes and watches for your romantic partner is bad luck in hoodoo (Shoes can make someone walk out the door and leave forever. While watches can make someone look at the time they have left with you.)

Earrings can help you hear what others say about you or what gossip is going around. (I heard the most compliments the other day while wearing my gold hoops 💫)

A necklace that has a charm or crystal can be used as a tailsmans, amulet, or pendulum.

Wearing rings on which hand or finger could enhance your abilities.

The same way there is money bowls, you can also make love or beauty bowls, or even use your jewelry box.

You can use color magick when doing your makeup or choosing an outfit.

Primer, lotions/moisturizers, body butters, oils, and gels can be used for sigils.

Foundation is for stability and being secure with yourself.

Concealer "cloaks" or "veils" your weaknesses or insecurities.

Contour makes space and structure for your desire.

Eyeliner can be used as a tool. It wards off negative spirits & people with bad intentions.

In ancient Egypt, the use of Kohl represented rank and achievement.

Mascara can be used to give you a different perspective in things or make you more open minded.

Eyeshadow enhances your eyes & brings more depth or dimension. Makes your gaze hypnotic & enticing like a siren's.

Highlighter shines your best qualities.

Bronzer makes your presence more warm & friendly

Blush is for playfulness, youthfulness, flirtation, and vitality.

The lip product you use can speak your desires into fruition. It also make your words sound more beautiful. People will want to listen more because they will feel attracted to your voice.

Lip gloss: makes your intentions "stick" to you. Lipstick: Leaves a "mark" on your target (especially if it's someone you fancy 💋). Lip stain: makes your words have a permanent effect on people, they won't forget you. Flavored lip balms: makes your kisses addicting.

Powder enhances your spell & adds a touch of good luck.

Setting spray finishes the spell.

528 Hz is the frequency of love.

Listening to frequencies, music, & subliminals can attract your desires.

You can make a playlist for your deity or ancestors to channel messages from them.

Here are some celebrities who used mirror work or glamour magick to manifest:

Beyoncé's Renaissance album has themes of having a good self concept, knowing your worth, manifesting self love & abundance.

Marilyn Monroe used visualization & affirmations to manifest her beauty and fame: “I daydreamed chiefly about beauty. I dreamed of myself becoming so beautiful that people would turn to look at me when I passed.”

Michael Jackson would keep sticky notes and a diary full of affirmations in his room by his mirror: “I'm beautiful (4x). I'm gorgeous. [Bad..?] Is for me, who can be against me? I'm beautiful. I'm a new person now. Beautiful, knowing the secret, and determined with fire[?] to move mountains in all I do. Molding my own world. I'm beautiful. The old me is behind. I will much ahead anew. - MJ”

Alexa Demie stated in a interview with Vogue that she would say affirmations in the mirror daily in the morning and it helped her manifest clear skin: “I have beautiful, clear, acne-free, scar-free skin.”

Princess Nokia is a bruja and is well known for her constant change in appearance: “Casting spells with my cousins / I'm the head of this coven / I'm a shapeshifting bitch, you don't know who you loving.”

Thanks so much for reading, I wish you all the best of luck on your journey 🤍🤍🤍

[herdreamywasteland]

a letter to Nex Benedict

Dear Nex,

you were a child. and we failed you. our children are the future, and we couldn’t even give you a future. it has been 16 days since you died, one for each year of your life, and nothing has been done. This is a horrible injustice, but the worst injustice of all, is the loss of your life.

I am so sorry, and I pray that God has embraced you in his loving arms, and assured you that you were made in his perfect, holy, image. I am so sorry for what happened, and what didn’t happen.

I did not know you. I did not know your name, or what you were like. I did not know your favorite food, or television show, or book. I did not know if you liked coffee, or if you sat strangely in chairs. I did not know if you had ever been to a Dennys, or if your dinners were always homemade. I did not know your name until February 8th, 2024. I did not know you, and now I never will. But I do understand.

I understand what it is like to be hated. I understand what it is like to be told you are worthless. I know what it is like to have nothing done about an injustice.

and I know what it is like to feel scared.

I am so sorry. I cried for you last night. I cried for the beautiful person you were, and the beautiful adult you will never be.

I hope you are in heaven, or whatever afterlife you believed in. I hope that you are respected and loved, for eternity and beyond.

I am so sorry. You didn’t deserve this. It was not your fault.

I am praying for you. I am praying for your family, and your friend. I am praying that justice is served.

most of all, I am praying that you are finally safe.

I cried for you last night. I think about you a lot. 16 days, 16 years, an entire lifetime.

I hope you forgive those girls, though they don’t deserve it. Even if you don’t, you are still better than they ever will be.

I don’t know you. I never will get to. I think, in a different universe, at a different time and place, I would have been your friend.

I am so sorry.

I hope you are safe.

I hope you are happy.

I hope you know you are loved.

Nex Benedict, thank you. Thank you for teaching me something, for opening my eyes.

Nex Benedict, I pray that God gives you another chance, in a world better than this one.

Nex Benedict, I didn’t know you. But, in a way, I love you.

Sincerely,

Another trans teenager

[snuggerudsz]

HOW YOU GET THE GIRL l JH86

summary: it's jack's fault you're not together anymore, but he needs you back ー even if he has to go to your apartment in pouring rain at 2 am to beg for a second chance.

pairing: jack hughes x fem!reader

author’s note: hello!! after taylor announced 1989 TV i needed to write something based on a 1989 song and i still had to write something for jacky boy, so this came to life. likes and reblogs are always welcomed. i hope you enjoy and thank you for reading!!! <3333

The first time you’d seen Jack Hughes, you knew he was trouble. One look at the hockey player and you knew he was bound to break your heart. Still, you dove in head first, charmed by his enchanting blue eyes and troublesome smirk. You were aware Jack didn’t do relationships, he’d very much rather casual hookups. But then, when you appeared in his life, he couldn’t think straight, and for the first time in his life, he wanted one person and one person only.  And you were ecstatic. You would never have believed he’d give you an actual chance, let alone ask you to be his girlfriend. However, Jack didn’t know how to be in a relationship, and he let jealousy and miscommunication get in between the two of you until he couldn’t take it anymore and cut you off his life completely. Now, you were broken up, mourning what could have been of your relationship, both haunted by the what-ifs. Until he decided it was enough, he couldn’t let you be the one who got away. He couldn’t let himself ruin this. You deserved better and he wanted to be better, for you.

It was late when Jack decided he was tired of staring at his bedroom ceiling, probably too late but he didn’t care, it’s not like he was going to sleep anyway. Jack got up from his bed, making his way outside his apartment clad in only sweatpants and a devil’s hoodie, and went to his car. The drive was quiet, but his head was loud. He needs you to accept his apology. He needs you. 

Jack sat in his car, looking at your apartment building for what felt like centuries. He could barely see it with the heavy rain on the outside. There are only two types of people who would get out in such bad weather: Idiots and lovesick fools. And Jack definitely was not an idiot. 

“Fuck it,” he thought, getting out of the car and going into the building.

When you woke up to someone knocking on your door at two in the morning, you had imagined anything, anyone but a soaked Jack. But here he was, drenched on your doorstep. You looked at the hockey player, his piercing blue eyes so sad and lifeless staring at your sleepy ones.

“Jack?!” You say his name, with the same warmth of always still present. God, he missed your voice.

“It’s two in the fucking morning,” You scream whisper, not wanting to wake up your neighbors at this ungodly hour. “This is insanity, Jack. Are you crazy?”

“Crazy about you” He states, slyly.

For a moment, you stare at Jack, thinking if you want to slap him or kiss him, eventually just letting him inside, praying you won’t regret this.

Jack stands awkwardly, while you get him a towel and some clean clothes he left at yours and prepares a cup of warm tea. You might be furious at him right now, but that doesn’t mean you’ll let him die of hypothermia in your living room.

“What do you want here, Jack?” You asked bluntly after he’s changed and dry, tea sitting on the table in front of the both of you.

“(Y/N)” He starts, the confidence and playfulness of earlier both long gone, “I’m sorry. These were the longest six months of my life. I swear-”

“Jack, you broke my heart. You-” You take a deep breath, eyes already teary, “You left me. You stopped answering me, Jack. After everything you said, after everything we did, you cut me off. Do you understand how painful that was?” You look into his eyes, blurry vision with the tears you’re holding. “And, I-I tried so hard. Harder than you could ever imagine. I trusted you, I really did. I believed in you, Jack.” You say, face wet with tears and Jack’s heart hurts at the vision he wants to hold you and protect you from all of the pain, but it’s his fault. And he needs to make it right.

“I’m sorry. I can’t apologize enough, but if you let me, I’ll be making up for you for the rest of my life. I didn’t know what I was doing, and I hurt you and that was shitty and I’m so incredibly sorry. I don’t think I’ll regret anything as much as I regret hurting you. I never meant to ruin things, (Y/N). I never meant to ruin us. But please let me make it right. I know I broke your heart, let me put it back together.” Jack pleads, getting closer, his own eyes filled with tears, “I’ve made so many mistakes, (Y/N), so many. But you were never one of them. You were the first thing that felt right. And I know I don’t deserve it, but please, give me a second chance. Please.” He begs, holding your face between his hands, and wiping your tears away. “I want you, (Y/N).” The words escapes Jack's lips and he closed his eyes, not sure he wanted to watch your reaction to his admission. “I want to put your heart back together,” He continues, quieter. “I want us to be how we used to be. I want what we had.” He pleas, his voice stern as he continues “I'll never leave again, I promise. I want to be here for you, worse or for better, no matter what happens.”

The room went silent, the two sets of eyes staring into the other. Wordlessly, you bury your face into Jack’s chest and he feels like he can finally breathe for the first time in six months. The both of you stay there, holding each other for all the words they didn’t get to say, and all the apologies they can’t begin to put down onto words. And if heaven were a place on earth, they might stay that way, glued to one another for a lifetime. Jack kisses your forehead, pressing you harder against him, nothing else matters but the girl he has in his arms.

And that’s how it works.

That’s how Jack Hughes got the girl.

[williamsracinggf]

you don't go to parties * vrau

what would life be like if they'd never resolved their issues after their crash in montreal?

word count: 1.8k

notes: hi posting on here again bc the lack of applause is kinda driving me crazy idk sue me i guess

in case you're not aware, disneyprincemuke got shadowbanned and i reFUUUUUSE to not be the centre of attention when i poured my whole pussy into a fic so here i am using my main to post </3 (i live for the applause)

(series masterlist) | (📂 in every other life)

she looks around the bar, heart pounding in her head as she tries to sift out for a familiar face in the crowd of the club. her face and name are plastered on every single screen of the bar, as per max’s drunken request when he got here before she could. apparently, winning your first championship doesn’t grant you the immunity to escape media commitments; it actually gives you more. especially when you’re the first woman, and you’ve set the new record as the youngest driver to ever win it.

everyone she loves and wants to celebrate with is here in this club with her right now, except the one person she prayed and hoped would show up for her.

realistically, she should be happy. in fact, she should be ecstatic that she’s finally managed to prove all of the doubters wrong. but her heart is heavy and she’s got tears in her eyes as she continually looks around with hope that the person she wants to be here, changed his mind. but no.

she’s walked about 3 rounds in the club, went high and low searching for the familiarity that his company brought her. alas, he is nowhere to be found.

she didn’t want to believe sebastian at first when he told her that he saw logan leaving the paddocks shortly after the evening was over for him. and he knew that for a fact because the american had bid him a cheerful goodbye before leaving the paddocks with his girlfriend.

“why are you all alone here, world champ?” max hums, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. he pulls her into his side and presses a kiss on her temple as he guides her through the crowd around them. “you’re supposed to be with us celebrating — not hanging out here by yourself. everyone’s been waiting for you at the vip area.”

she looks up at him, lips turned down into a frown as she follows him willingly. she hesitates asking her question — they’ve been over this several times since it had blown up in her face — but she does, anyway. she takes a deep breath and cranes her neck back to look at logan. “have you seen logan anywhere?”

“oh.” max stops in the crowd, earning them a couple of curses from intoxicated clubgoers. “you’re looking for logan.”

max isn’t saying that he’s upset to hear the question. although, if anyone were to ask him, he’d prefer not to discuss this right now on one of the most important nights of her life. plus, they’ve talked about logan over and over.

“yeah. i haven’t see him at all since we stood on the podium tonight,” she says softly in a shakey voice. “have you seen him?”

she saw him very briefly as she was presented with the race trophy. she caught his gaze as he watched from the crowd below, hovering not too far away from the crowd that had formed, his jaw clenched and his arms folded over his chest. she tried to smile at him, but the older man simply turned and walked away before she could.

she tried searching for him in the paddocks, but she couldn’t catch up to him the one time she saw him. a reporter had stopped her before she could make a run after him.

max presses his lips together and looks down at her. should he just tell her the truth? but something tells him that she already knows that logan isn’t in attendance tonight. perhaps sebastian told her and she just needs another person to find reason with? “mate…”

she laughs dryly, immediately wiping the tear that’s fallen out of her eyes. “yeah. okay, let’s just go.”

she pushes max away slightly and starts walking back in the direction they were heading originally. she doesn’t know why she’s still so upset over it. the season has come and gone without logan’s friendship — that’s about 5 long months of attempting to get over their downfall.

“mate, come on,” max sighs, pulling her back into him. “you can’t keep dwelling over it, you know? you approached him and he simply didn’t want to be friends anymore. you did what you could.”

perhaps max is right. to an extent, she thinks. she will tell you that you are right to an extent when you bring up the fact to her — the fact that she did eventually tried reaching out to logan after she put her pride aside and apologised to him.

“i could have done more,” she says firmly, grabbing max’s arm to tear his grip from her. “i shouldn’t have been so stupid in canada. i wound up fucking winning the championship, anyway.”

max shakes his head. it seems that no one can get through to her. it’s been 5 months since the incident where they crashed out in montreal and when she fell out with logan. he never thought that there would be another falling out as bad as this in the sport.

when it first happened, sebastian had tried to talk the girl out of her anger. she was insistent, for a week after the crash, that she was right and logan’s wrong; that logan should be the one apologising to her. he desperately scraped at what he could to get her to talk to him, knowing how bad it’s gotten — she didn’t even bother heading back to their shared apartment after that weekend, she stayed in her parent’s home for the next week after the canadian grandprix.

mark had also tried stepping in to talk her out of it, but nothing the australian said to her ever stuck. oscar had finally stepped forward as well, eventually, to try and get his best friends to make up. even he wasn’t enough of a bargaining chip.

and then the most unexpected duo decided to come together, much to their own dismay, to try and talk to her. lewis and nico spoke to her together and snapped her out of her blind anger. she would wind up showing up to their apartment with an apology and 2 tubs of ice cream.

only to find out that logan had already moved out over the 2-week break without saying anything to anyone.

she tried reaching out and approaching logan in the paddocks thereafter, but the older man was simply not interested in rekindling the friendship. he would be civil with her when he had to, but overall, he would avoid her like they hadn’t spent the past half of their lives under the same household and growing up together.

as hard as it was for her, imagine how difficult it was for oscar to be in the middle of all that. it had gotten increasingly difficult to manage hanging out with either. when he had taken a step back to reflect and think about it, logan realistically needed him more than she did.

so when she thought she’d only lost one best friend, she’d unknowingly lost two at the time.

but she didn’t lose oscar the same way she lost logan. while oscar kept some distance from her, choosing logan’s plans over hers and talking to her less, his way of going about it hurt her more than logan’s disappearance from her life ever did.

it’s like he was there, but not there.

which is why it’s a shock that oscar stayed in the paddocks for her after she cleaned herself from the champagne showers with a bouquet of flowers in his hands.

at that point, she hasn’t hung out with oscar since their weekend in barcelona for their race, so she didn’t ask any questions. she just left the paddocks with oscar and mick, trying to brush off the odd and uncomfortable feeling that would rise up whenever she remembered the state of their friendship. but what’s important was that oscar showed up for her again when she needed him.

she just wishes logan would come out and do the same.

she stumbles forward as a body hits her shoulder on accident. “oh!” oscar screams with a smile. he slings his arm around her shoulder. “we were looking for you, mate! we’re gonna order the house special for the world champion!”

it hurt oscar to distance himself from her — he didn’t only lose her when he did that, he also lost blythe, ciara and dalton in the process.

while the 3 younger siblings understood and kept their distance as well after the fight, he couldn’t help but feel empty at the way they were so good at doing that out of respect for their older sister.

he just wishes it hadn’t gotten to this point. he missed her, really, but he couldn’t just leave logan’s side. she had more people supporting her than logan did when they were in the paddocks.

he would only catch glimpses of her life on her instagram and sometimes when they would have a chat to catch up. if he’s lucky, lily would tell him what they discussed over their frequent hang outs. even then, it simply isn’t the same as hanging out with the girl he thought would be his best friend forever.

“i love that drink!” max screams. he pushes her forward with a small and apologetic smile. “come on. we’ll have fun with you tonight. the club is ours — yearly tradition of the world champs.”

“yeah, but–“

“hey, i’ve been looking for you all over the place.” as oscar steps away from her with a laugh, another arm slings itself around her shoulders. she turns her head, furrowing her eyebrows as she meets with blue eyes that shine through the dimness of the club. “you’re just right here all along.”

she laughs sheepishly, throwing her head back with a soft laugh. “yeah, um,” she shakes her head, “just scoping out the place. it’s different when you’re the one the night’s dedicated to, i guess.”

and when logan had pulled away from her, another person had stepped in and tried to be there for her. she doesn’t know where it came from — perhaps it’s her association with sebastian, or that they were in prema together — but mick came forward and started being there for her more.

which then, well, led to this.

“ah, i thought you’d escaped to the peacefulness of our hotel room,” mick laughs, pressing a kiss to her cheek. “ready to get drunk tonight, love? promise i won’t marry you this time around.”

oscar snorts, walking around the three of them. he pushes them all forward in the direction of where the rest of the grid — and her team — is waiting for them. “not until her dad stops fanboying over the fact that his eldest is on the path to being an actual schumacher.”

mick snorts, pulling her into his body. “i need to get over the fact that my girlfriend’s the youngest world champion in formula 1.”

taglist: @wcnorris @treehouse-mouse @laura-naruto-fan1998 @mindless-rock @ironmaiden1313 @angsthology @cherry-piee @christianpulisic10 @elliegrey2803 @cashtons-wife @nikfigueiredo @darleneslane @happy-nico @namgification @sadg3 @a10vely-yutazen @mellowarcadefun @glitterf1 @megatrilss1885 @peqch-pie @gentlyweeps-world @woozarts @meadhbhcavanagh @2bormaybenot @inejismywife @love4lando @trouble-sistar @localwhoore

[poguemunson]

The Morning After

Eddie Munson x Reader (1.3k)

note: i haven’t written anything for months so i am a little rusty so please take it easy on me. if you have any requests please send them my way!

buy me a kofi masterlist

Summary: You try to sneak out the morning after sleeping with your best friend, Eddie because you think he will regret it.

Warnings: suggestive themes (mentions of sex), slight angst, insecure!reader, mentions of alcohol, misunderstanding

******

This is not your room.

This is not your bed.

That is, however, your clothes littered on the floor.

That is your best friend, sleeping next to you, equally as naked as you are.

You are never drinking again.

Running a hand through your hair, you begin to curse yourself. You’re trying to remember the events that took place the last night, pieces of memories coming together hazily.

You had turned up to Eddie’s trailer, upset and in need of comfort and reassurance. You had yet another failed date and you were feeling like shit about yourself. When you thought about the last time you genuinely felt happy, of course, your best friend of seven years was the first person to come to mind.

What you didn’t plan on was the pair of you getting wasted and hooking up.

Sure, the reason the dates were failing was that you were head over heels for your best friend. But your drunk brain decided to go for the kiss and let fate take over the rest.

“Fuck, fuck,” You murmured to yourself. The last thing you wanted to do was wake Eddie up with your panic.

Did Eddie just feel sorry for you? Did he just feel obligated to go through with something with you because he believed you couldn’t handle another failed experience with a boy?

That had to be it.

During the seven years of friendship, Eddie had never shown any interest that wasn’t platonic. He was flirty but that was just Eddie, right?

You had to get out of there.

You quickly dressed as quietly as you could. The last thing you wanted was to face Eddie. You wouldn’t be able to handle seeing the look of regret etched onto his face.

Eddie would never actively go for someone like you. You’re his best friend. The one stable thing, apart from Uncle Wayne, that he had in his life and you had screwed that up for him.

You spared a glance at Eddie. He was still seemingly asleep. He looked peaceful, you could’ve sworn there was a slight smile on his lips. You tried your hardest to try to remember him this way.

Maybe Eddie wouldn’t want to see you anymore after this. Would he do that?

You couldn’t begin to think about it. You pushed yourself out of the room, sending a thank you to whoever upstairs made sure that this event happened the day Uncle Wayne wasn’t home from the night shift yet.

Stepping out of the trailer, you closed the door as quietly as you could. You cringed when it made a loud squeak.

“Please don’t wake up,” You whispered. You would cross your fingers if your hands weren’t shaking so badly.

You waited a minute to see if you could hear any movement in the trailer, trying to determine whether to make a run for it or not. Once you were sure the coast was clear, you turned to leave, freezing when you caught the eyes of one of Eddie’s neighbours.

Maxine. You recognised her as one of Dustin’s friends. You had seen her around him a few times in town.

You put your hand up in an awkward wave to which she raised an eyebrow at you in reply before she made her way into her trailer. You were just praying she didn’t decide to call up Dustin to let him know that she had witnessed his babysitter doing the walk of shame.

Guess today wasn’t your day.

You stopped in your tracks once you felt the cold water drop land on your arm.

Yeah. Today wasn’t looking up apparently.

Looks like you get to enjoy a nice walk home in the rain. Fantastic. Just fantastic.

“You’re still here.”

You almost jumped out of your skin at the sound of his voice. He had always been good at sneaking up on people. Of course, it helps when you’re zoned out, focusing on the horror of a day you’ve been having. It doesn’t look like it’s even 9 AM yet.

“Yeah,” You let out an awkward laugh, turning to face him but making a conscious effort not to make eye contact, “Was just about to head off.”

He was now dressed. His hair was a mess from his sleep and their night together. If you closed your eyes, you could probably still imagine how it felt to run your fingers through it.

“Run away, don’t you mean?” Eddie questioned. You hadn’t heard it before but there was no mistaking the hurt in his tone. You finally met his gaze.

“I’m not running away,” You replied.

Eddie scoffed, “Okay, so what is this then?”

He raised a hand to gesture to you standing outside his trailer. You could practically feel your throat go dry.

“I didn’t let anyone know I wasn’t coming home last night. I don’t want to worry anyone,” You told him. It wasn’t a total lie but it wasn’t the whole truth. You just didn’t want to own up to the fact that you were ferried that if you stayed around Eddie any longer, you would start apologising.

“Just because I’m yet to graduate high school doesn’t mean that I’m that dumb,” Eddie shot back. You opened your mouth and then closed it before taking a deep breath.

“I know you’re not dumb.”

“So tell me the truth,” Eddie leaned his back against the entry of the trailer.

“I didn’t want to face you,” You admitted.

“And why’s that?” Eddie countered.

“I didn’t want to see you mad at me. I didn’t want to stand here and do exactly what we are doing right now because it’s mortifying. I get that it means I’m running away from my problems but from where I’m standing right now, that doesn’t sound like a bad idea,” You stated with a shake of your head.

“You’re that embarrassed?” Eddie quizzed. You let out a scoff.

“I’m sorry that last night happened. I get that you regret it, okay? We don’t need to have this conversation. You don’t feel that way about me. End of story,” You told him.

Eddie’s eyes widened a fraction before laughing loudly at you. You have never been a violent person but right now? You wanted to clock him.

“Can you stop laughing at me?”

“You beautiful idiot,” Eddie laughed, running a hand down his face. You raised an eyebrow at him.

“Are you complimenting me or insulting me?” You asked. Eddie shook his head in disbelief before taking a step closer to you.

“Both,” He replied before cradling your face in his hand and pressing his lips to yours. Your brain was going haywire because what the fuck?

His lips were so soft. Somehow softer than they were last night and you couldn’t help but completely melt into him.

Before you remembered.

“Wait,” You pulled away from him, his lips already trying to chase yours, “I don’t understand.”

Eddie laughed, his hand going to your cheek again to ensure you looked him in the eyes.

“I thought you regretted last night,” Eddie said.

“Why the fuck would I- Oh.”

You were both idiots.

“So… you don’t regret it?” You questioned.

“Are you kidding? I’ve been in love with you since we were kids,” Eddie informed, beginning to trail kisses down your neck, your eyes fluttering close at the feeling, “The only thing I regret is that I don’t remember everything.”

You pulled away with a smile, reaching for his hand and tugging him back towards the opened door of his trailer.

“I say we get a do-over.”

Eddie’s lips curled into a grin before wrapping his arms around your waist to hoist you over his shoulder to get you back into his room faster.

“What are we waiting for then?”

[annewithaneofthegreengable]

Homecoming Daydream Part 2

Summary: With the power of Ferrari’s ghost, Enzo or whoever officiated me with a Charles Leclerc’s in Jesus’ form. I pronounce you, husband and wife.

Pairing: Toto Wolff x reader.

Genre: Romance, fluff and smut.

Author's note: This is a multiple-chapter Toto x Reader fanfic. Noted that English is not my mother tongue so there will be mistakes.

Part 1: Homecoming Daydream

Y/n hadn’t lied before. She wasn’t nervous about marrying Toto. Like at all. 

At that moment, as she walked towards him, down the altar, she was overcome not by excitement but was overwhelmed with the sense of love. The sight of someone, and not just someone, he is, the man in her dream standing at the end of the aisle, patiently waiting for her. She felt like she must have been trapped in a dream, one that she silently prayed to never be woken up from. But as her tipped French nails poked into the palm of her hand, she realised that all these things were happening and they were indeed, 100% true. As she neared him, she could feel the nerves and butterflies disappear and be replaced by a warm feeling of peace and serenity. Like a homecoming. And she is indeed at home now and forevermore. 

All she could do was focus on the heartbeat hammering away in her ears. Then, Toto’s warm hand wrapped around her own. Then, his face – his beautiful dark brown eyes so invitingly warm and intense, she felt caught in his gaze. Then, his gorgeous smile, told her just how happy he was. And slowly her heartbeat steadied, the deafening pulse quieted and she was gently grounded back into the moment with him. I am home, she thought. 

And not a second too early, because as she caught Fred’s expectant gaze, she realized that they somehow must’ve gotten to the part where they would exchange their vows. Y/n cleared her throat. The words came so easily – because they were true. 

“Toto. I must say this and I know it’s not a very romantic way to start a vow but I had a pretty much okay life before I met you.”

There was a low rumble of laughter in the crowd. Y/n smiled and took another deep breath before she continued.

“It’s not fantastic, just average like anyone else’s life out there can be, and I guess I was fine with it. With the thought of being a loner traveller in this lifetime. With the thought of never being the chosen one. Everything ate me up and made me believe it that way. Until I met you. I never expected to meet someone like you. I didn’t even think of someone like you to ever set foot in my life. Slowly, I get to know the beautiful person you are, inside and out. To be so lucky as to fall in love with you. I’ve found my new home, you – right here. And I couldn’t be more grateful to spend my life with you.”

She saw the moisture shimmering in his eyes and was sure that her own looked pretty similar. He smiled, before nodding at Fred and taking a deep breath. 

“ Y/n, my life was pretty much like yours before I met you. Except for all the noise, the hustle lifestyle and the demands of everything in my life,... Too much that there were days I thought it was going to swallow me whole. That was until we came across. I didn’t know I could ever admire one’s eyes this much, and just hearing your laughter and being with you made me feel at home. You called me your home, Schatz. Well, you are mine, too. As you have given me your hands to hold, so I give you my life to hold from this day forward.” 

Her heart beat steadily throughout his vows, but the tears that had been on the verge of slipping before now streamed freely down her face. There was nothing she could do about it. It was as though her love for this man poured out of her body because there was simply too much of it to be physically contained.

She was vaguely aware that Lewis stepped forward behind Toto and handed him something. Toto took the box and flipped it open, revealing two rings. Y/n gasped and swallowed an incredulous chuckle at the size of the diamond inside. Toto hadn’t proposed to her with an engagement ring, since he’d done it spontaneously one night, while they were still wrapped up in bed together. After, she’d told him not to get one, since she found a single wedding ring would more than suffice. Really, she should’ve expected that he would go above and beyond with it, knowing he would go feral in choosing her the perfect ring, with the biggest diamond, of course. He smirked at her reaction and picked the ring from the box, looking at Lewis expectantly. His friend chuckled.

“Okay, I feel kinda silly even asking after all of that, but here we go. Toto, do you Y/n to be your wife?” 

“I do”, Toto answered, his voice even and earnest, despite his smile. Then he slid the ring in place and lifted her hand to his lips for a soft kiss. 

“I love you” he whispered. 

That steady pulse from before was replaced by a frantic gallop, her heart almost jumping out of her chest at the touch of his lips. 

“And Y/n, do you take Grandpa Toto here to be your husband?”

There was another rumble of laughter from the audience, Toto however, acted as though he hadn’t even heard the quip, his eyes glued to her face, her lips. Waiting to hear her answer. As if he still couldn’t believe she’d agree. Silly old man. 

“I do“, she said. Then she plucked the other ring from the box, a simple gold band, and took Toto’s hand.

“And I love you too,“ she whispered and slid the ring onto his finger. 

They stood there and stared at each other, both smiling and silently crying, until Fred cleared his throat and even his voice sounded suspiciously tight with emotion. 

“Well, then with the power of Ferrari’s ghost, Enzo or whoever officiated me with a Charles Leclerc’s in Jesus’ form. I pronounce you, husband and wife. You may kiss your wife now, Wolff.”

And then just only waiting for that moment, her husband did what he was said to do. 

 Everyone cheered, as Toto released Y/n just slightly, still holding her in his arms, as she grinned up at him. „Hey husband“, she whispered.

His heart felt like it had grown three sizes.

„Hey wife“, he answered, with a smile so wide it actually hurt.

The music turned up in the background and people jumped out of their chairs, charging towards them for hugs and kisses. Lewis was first since he stood right next to them. He clapped Toto on the back before twirling Y/n into one of his bear hugs, making her laugh as he lifted her off the ground. 

“Welcome to the fam, Mrs. Wolff or you prefer it as Mrs. Mercedes. Thank you for saving us from the wrath of him smashing  another pair of Bose’s headphones.”

“I’m more than happy too,” she answered with a wink towards Toto. 

Y/n’s friends and family were another matter, alternately sobbing blended with screaming here and there (happy scream, of course) as they essentially pried her from his hands. She looked over her shoulder at him and gave a little shrug while rolling her eyes, before trying to calm everyone down. As dramatic as them all, she felt whole with them here today. 

Half an hour later, most of the crying was done, and people had started mingling and dancing. And Y/n was finally back at his side, as he pulled her out onto the dancefloor for their first dance as wife and husband. 

„I missed you“, she murmured, sighing happily as she leaned into him, slowly swaying from side to side. 

He grinned.

„I missed you too, sweetheart. Almost broke that stupid rule and came to see you last night, but they almost sent a missing report so I pretty much couldn’t pull the trick of meeting at a secret place like Romeo and Juliet.“

“You want us to die. That’s not what I imagine a happily ever after ending is about, Toto. Did I just marry a crazy, old man?” 

“You did not say that.” He said, completely serious.

“Is that so?”

“Just so you know, wifey. This crazy, old man here fully intended to fuck you tonight. you look so perfect in this dress. Makes me wanna fucking ruin you.” 

She tilted her head as though she was weighing her options with a flushed face. 

“Hmm. That’s the kind of crazy I can handle. And you also aged just fine, husband. Also, you've already ruined me. I can't go five minutes without thinking about your hands on me, our bodies intertwined.”

Toto cursed quietly, already feeling himself harden in his suit. Not an ideal situation, with everyone watching them spin around in slow circles on the dance floor. 

“Oh, Schatz, you can’t say this in public without expecting me to get all hard up.”

Y/n hummed quietly and leaned closer, sliding her hand down his back and pressing her soft body against his torso.

“Rewards come to those whose patience, husband of mine. I promise you there will present for you to open tonight.”

After making the rounds, taking turns dancing with their friends and family, posing for photos and indulging in the food, Toto's patience was running thin. Although surrounded by family and beloved friends, Toto felt increasingly impatient. The wedding felt like an eternity and a huge distraction from the real reason they were all there: to witness Toto and his bride say "I do." He now started to wonder where his wife had gone since she disappeared 15 minutes ago. 

“Have you guys seen my wife?” Toto asked Lewis, Sebastian and George. 

“You really enjoy saying that, huh?“ George teased.

“I think she went upstairs to freshen up, maybe,” Lewis said.

[belokhvostikova]

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | Swearing and playful mentions of religion.

In truth, Eddie Munson does not care if you're not into the metal scene. Though it wasn't until instances like last Friday, in which he truly realized just how little you knew, and he had a fucking field day.

It all began when you were propped on sore elbows and laying on your tummy, as his rough carpet scratched your skin, and you attempted to do your homework. Heavy on the "attempt" because Eddie Munson situated himself right next to you, and made it his life's mission to steal your attention.

Lifelessly, he'd plopped from his bed, a heavy grunt following, and landed right next to you. "C'mon, sweetheart, you've been doing that shit for hours." Ten minutes. It'd only been ten minutes. "It can't possibly be more entertaining than me." He pouted.

You merely giggled. "Eds, I'm trying to finish so I can hang out with you."

"Can't you just hang out now?" He huffed. "I mean, isn't that the whole point of, you know, coming over?"

You could only scoff with a smile. "Uh, if I'm not mistaken, it was you who said I could finish my work here." You stated matter of factly.

"Puh-lease." His dramatic sass always kicking in. "You and I both know, sweetheart, that I just said that to get you to come over." He spoke such truth so highly, it made you laugh. "Besides, wouldn't you rather be doing something romantic, like making out with your smokin' hot boyfriend while listening to music?"

"Oh, right, because your little punk music is so romantic."

It was then you heard the most conspicuous gasp ever uttered by Eddie Munson, as he sat up, hand over his heart, like he was in a corny soap opera. The way his large eyes grew even bigger had you reeling back your words to see where you went wrong.

Now, to any normal person, the obvious would have been the clear insult of calling his taste unromantic, but to a metalhead? Yeah, it was something completely different.

"'Punk music?!'" He reiterated with such bewilderment. "I do not listen to punk music!" You've never seen such offense and disgust consume his dramatic antics. It had you dying of laughter. "You think this is funny?!"

"Yeah, I do." You unabashedly answered with a giggle. "It all sounds the same, what's the difference?"

Your rhetorical question left Eddie Munson's mouth agape. "You are walking on thin ice here, missy." He pointed a finger, as if discipling you. "I am a metalhead! Not punk. Metal! C'mon, say it with me, me-tal-head."

You laughed incredulously, with a playful slap to his arm. "Shut up!"

"C'mere!" You squealed, as he manhandled you onto his lap, ready to teach you a lesson and because you were infuriatingly cute, gushing his insides with happiness, even if you misjudged his choice of music genres.

"Look." He redirected you to a peeling poster on his wall with a point to his finger. "You see him? You know who that is?"

You rolled your eyes. "Yes, Eddie, I know who Ozzy Osbourne is." You mocked with a bored voice.

"Good, because he's lesson number one." He put on his stern face, one that was used to mimic Ms. O'Donnell. "Me and Ozzy are a package deal; you date me, you date him."

"I can't date Ozzy Osbourne." You laughed at the obvious.

"That's right, so you worship him instead." He nodded his head in complete seriousness. "Right before you go to bed, I want you on your knees and praying to him. He's your god. An Ozzyist, if you will."

You laughed with pure joy, because, my god, you couldn't believe you got the bragging rights of dating Eddie Munson.

[ihateliterature]

Can we talk about asexual guilt?

Cause if I have to see another young sex-repulsed asexual emotionally beating themselves because they believe they OWE their parents grandkids I will act up

Not because of the kids but because of the parents, and society

I used to be like this, I was a young teen hating myself because I knew I would probably never have sex and disappoint my mom because she wants grandkids so much (it didn't help that my mom entered a baby fever in my mid teens that was only made worse when she hit menopause, this woman has been asking me when I am gonna have kids since I was 13 ffs)

This is a very odd kind of feeling, one I personally observed a lot from acespecs raised in christian communities. We are told that it is our duty to procreate. This is double true for afab acespecs that are taught since infancy that motherhood should be your ultimate goal

It's a sad thing to watch. Teenagers breaking down because they were taught they should use their wombs to the purpose of making someone else happy even if it makes them miserable. Who don't want this but believe it is selfish of them to not do it. Young people who pray for infertility because pregnancy feels even more invasive than just sex

And I want to say. You are not selfish. Your parents don't own your body, a fictitious future partner doesn't own it either. You don't owe anyone babies. It is your life after all. If you don't want to have sex or go through pregnancy that's your choice to make and no one else should be a factor in your decision making. Your possible future partner and your parents either have to be cool with it or fuck off