#I'm extremely '''late''' to driving but I never considered or realized how hard it would be to do all this the older I got

[hyena-frog]

I failed the driving test today :)))

[doctorhelena]

Summary: A mix-up with one of Howard's spy lipsticks leads to Peggy and Steve spending an unexpectedly candid evening at home.

Rating: R

Words: 15k

Chapters: 1/1

Note: This is my extremely late @steggyfanevents Steggy Secret Santa 2023 gift for the amazing @theawkwardterrier. I'm so sorry it's late, but as usual, it ended up considerably longer than I expected!

Read it on A03

Excerpt:

A ringing phone in 1949 was a far more common thing than it had been in 2023, but that didn’t stop Steve from worrying whenever theirs rang while Peggy was out, even though he knew perfectly well that nobody who worked for the SSR had any idea that Peggy even had someone at home to notify if anything should go wrong.

He hadn’t fully considered this particular consequence of retiring from the top-secret line of work that Peggy was still very much in the thick of. He knew, of course, that she was very, very good at what she did, and could absolutely take care of herself. It was just - well, he guessed he just missed working with her, missed knowing at least the general outlines of what she was doing out there. Their relationship had always been professional as well as personal, and now he wasn't part of that world anymore.

Before Steve had left on his journey to return the stones, Bucky had teased him that he wasn't going to know what to do anymore when he couldn't Google things, but in truth he did miss the casual ease of text messaging a lot more than he'd expected to. Maybe that was part of it. Even though he and Peggy had never actually had the benefit of anything like it, he'd been in the 21st century so long that he wasn't used to everyone being routinely unreachable.

Of course, it wasn’t that they never talked Peggy's work life. In the four months since Steve had arrived on her doorstep, they'd actually spent a lot of time discussing some of the intel he’d brought with him, and making plans for how they could use it to greatest effect to prevent the worst of the disasters of the original timeline. Steve's role was going to be more the guy in the chair than the guy with the shield (although clearly still the man with a plan, Peggy had teased him), but he was still involved. But as to her day to day work at the SSR - and even the finer details of her other side project, the development of SHIELD with Howard and Phillips - Steve was mostly in the dark.

He hadn’t realized how much it would bother him. Or maybe it was just that he still hadn’t quite figured out what he wanted to do all day while Peggy was out saving the world. He hadn’t really planned that part out when he’d decided to come back and see if she’d be interested in making a life with him - which she very much had been - and, now that he'd recovered from the bone-deep exhaustion he'd arrived with, he was feeling a bit at loose ends. 

He reached the hallway and answered the phone, his relief at hearing Peggy's voice lasting only until he processed what she was saying. “Darling, it’s me. I’m in a little trouble. Don’t ask me to explain just now.”

“Wh - ”

She cut him off. “Not now. I'm sorry to ask, but Mr. Jarvis isn't available, and I need a lift as quickly as possible from someone I trust implicitly. But I’m all right for the time being and it’s snowing quite hard, so there's no need to drive like a maniac.” She gave him her location, a phone booth a few blocks north of the White House, and hung up before he could ask any more questions.

Well, Steve thought wryly, this was more how he'd imagined his life with Peggy was going to go.

Read the rest on A03

[strangefable]

what d&d class is your oc?

tagged for this uquiz by the lovely @jillvalentinesday, @cassietrn, @inafieldofdaisies, @voidika, @josephseedismyfather, @direwombat, @poisonedtruth, and @theelderhazelnut, thank you all <3

Ranger

You are a Ranger, an explorer of dangerous territories. You are fearless and cunning, traits necessary on your travels, but you tend to be closed off from others and overly pragmatic. Your connection with nature and skill with weaponry will carry you through most battles, and your sneakiness will let you avoid the ones it will not.

There isn't any other class that suits her. She's not got the magic for druid, but her fighting style keeps her out of direct warrior/barbarian types. Archery and nature, exploration and knowing the lay of the land, and using it to advantage? That's Micah. She's at home alone in the woods, but with party members she's off her footing, unsure how to interact or engage. Trusts comes hard for her, but a fearless ability to throw herself into danger? Yeah, she's got that in spades.

Rogue

You are a Rogue, a skilled adventurer who uses guile and expertise to your advantage. You are often seen as stealthy and precise, aiming for your opponent's weakest points, but you can master various other skills to aid you on your journey. While you tend to be underhanded and greedy, you can also be daring, clever, insightful and charismatic.

Sneaky. Underhanded. Guile. Charm. Greed. Loose Morals. What else could Lil ever be but rogue?

Artificer

You are an Artificer, an adventurer who wields science in place of magic. While your foremost trait is intelligence, you're built tougher than most others who place their faith in their brains. You are inventive, curious and occasionally reckless, all traits that get you both into and out of trouble on your adventure.

I admit it, I took the quiz for her a few times until it returned the right result. Intellect and knowledge, melding science and magic, those are Bright's Things. No matter how much the quiz kept trying to make her a traditional magic user, she's just not. She's extremely reckless, but it's not out of malice or a drive for power; it's simple curiosity. And a love of shiny things. She's clever but not wise; she's quick but not strong or nimble.

Paladin

You are a Paladin, a warrior sworn to an Oath, whether it be to a god, a king, an ideology or oneself. As a divine soldier, you are well equipped to strike down evil, but must follow a code of your choosing to retain this power. While you are limited somewhat by these bonds, you are also the most driven and determined member of your group.

tbh i've never considered what would suit Lore, but honestly? yeah, she's very driven for good, for what she sees as moral and right, for the betterment of the people, though i don't know if she could be defined as a soldier or warrior. she's about practicality and function over form or style, but she'd balk at the idea of serving a god or a king. her goal is always to help people, especially those who have no voice and no power. she fights hard, but she prefers diplomacy and compromise whenever possible, to save as many lives as she can. she's one of my purest, most good characters.

i realize i'm kinda late on this one, but i'm passing on tags, anyway. (feel free to ignore me<3) @henbased, @adelaidedrubman, @v0idbuggy, @legally-a-bastard, @damejudyhench, @mars-colony, @strafethesesinners, @thisisrigged4, @mediocre-life-span, @harmonyowl, @marivenah, @socially-awkward-skeleton, @florbelles, @trench-rot, @wrathfulrook, @simplegenius042, @incognito-insomniac, @gayafsatan, @shallow-gravy, @turbo-virgins, @chazz-anova, @confidentandgood, @aceghosts, @jacobseed, @vampireninjabunnies-blog, @fourlittleseedlings, @clonesupport, @unholymilf, and anyone else who wants to do this, please say i tagged you <3

[thatspiritualbabe]

Why Manifestation Isn't an Exact Science

It's been 3 1/2 years since I discovered manifestation and lately I've been reflecting on my experiences. When I first discovered manifestation, I completely immersed myself. I became fascinated with this new world, this new way of life. I, like many others, assumed if I consciously manifest, I would never have to endure any sort of hardship ever again. Unfortunately it doesn't work that way. It's more about how you respond to life's ups and downs. You will have some wins and some losses, but you pick yourself up each time. I think many view manifestation as a way to control everything and everyone.

I remember early on in my journey I was randomly added to a manifestation FB group and one of the girls used to describe walking down the street pointing her fingers at people like zap! zap! zap! I control you! and you! and you! and...

Yes, you can utilize manifestation to have people treat you better in general. Yes, you can manifest an SP who never had feelings before to suddenly see you as relationship material. But you're gonna drive yourself crazy if you use manifestation to micromanage every person you have to deal with. There's still gonna be people in your life who are lazy, unreliable, rude, and just downright assholes no matter how many affirmations you throw at them.

Manifestation has taught me I can have what I want, but that doesn't mean I wouldn't still find myself in situations that no longer serve me. Manifestation has shown me my self worth. For example, I had manifested the specific jobs I had wanted but I've also been mistreated by coworkers and employers, and had to make the decision to choose my self respect and move on. I've had success in manifesting specific friends (that never wanna hang out) to extend an invite my way on occasion but I've also realized I may be better off going general and manifesting a new set of friends that meet my wants and needs. It's not always about "everyone is you pushed out" (EIYPO) or self concept or limiting beliefs. Sometimes the way a person treated you had everything to with them and not with you.

Controlling health is tricky territory. Yes, I believe you can improve your health or the health of loved ones through manifestation. But I don't think it should be used as a substitute for medical advice/treatment. Think of manifestation as a supplement to that, not a replacement for it. I see so many people who rely on manifestation and beat themselves up if they don't get better with affirmations alone. Use manifestation to help you find the right doctor, the right treatment.

Practicing manifestation doesn't mean you'll never have a hardship again, however, it can help you feel empowered and confident that you'll overcome the challenges you're faced with. I hope this makes sense, and I hope it helps you. I've seen so many people go to extremes with manifestation over the years and beat themselves up over the any inconvenience that comes their way. Manifestation is a beautiful thing, and it can lead to success in so many areas of your life. I just don't like seeing people be too hard on themselves if not every single thing goes their way. Remember: manifest not micromanage.

If you made it this far, please consider liking, following, and sharing. I'm still new to this and I appreciate all of the support I've gotten so far. Even if I reach one person, I'm happy to be helping that one person and making a difference. <3

[mooifyourecows]

moo i need advice. i’m gonna talk to my therapist n some other people ab it too but i’m taking all the help i can get.

there is a Situation at my work. i am a female presenting human at work and i have this coworker (we’ll call him A for simplicity’s sake) my age who was hired last month or the month before. he used to work at this coffee place in the same parking lot and spent his lunch breaks in my store sometimes so i knew him and we talked a bit before he was hired. i considered him an acquaintance bordering friend when he was hired. but some of my closer coworker friends told me last week that he said something like “i only applied here because i thought she was interested in me.”

i have been literally nothing but nice to him. i have never ever ever flirted with him or have done anything on my end other than just general customer service and coworker banter and conversation. i have had a serious long distance partner for over a year, best friends for 7 years before we even started dating. so when i heard he said that, after i clocked out and was waiting for my ride, i made it GLARINGLY obvious that i was taken in front of him (showed a pic of my partner to a coworker nearby him and did all my fun little gay jokes). it wasn’t directly at him but it was enough that he got the message. he knew i had a partner before this, but i just figured this would drive it home yk?

then after i left one of my coworkers texted me and said A was saying some MORE shit along the lines of “i dont care that she has a partner because they’re long distance and i want to take things slow anyway.” after i heard this i immediately went to my store manager to let her know and tell her that A makes me extremely uncomfortable and if it didn’t stop i was going to go to HR about it. none of this was said directly TO me, to my face, so that’s why i went in that direction. also this way there was a record of it and if my SM needed someone to vouch, she could ask the coworkers who he said this in front of. the night shift manager is now keeping him busy away from me when i work register whenever our schedules have an overlap which is good and the SM said she would talk to him and that if she heard (or heard about) anything else come out of his mouth like that, he’d be fired. i asked her to leave my name out of it, to not let him know that i said anything (ie, word it so it sounds like someone ELSE made the complaint because i don’t feel safe) and she agreed.

but last night he sent me a text saying that he wasn’t sure what he did wrong but he was told he did something to make me uncomfortable and apologized, explicitly telling me i didn’t need to respond to it because it was late and he had made me uncomfortable anyway (i blocked his number after that, i only had it for work related reasons in the first place but i realized i could use the store phone to call him if needed so it didn’t really matter).

now i have a couple options im juggling atm. one, show my SM the text and ask her what exactly she said to him to make him believe sending an “apology” text was okay. two, skip showing my SM and go directly to HR (which i really dont know how to do, id need help with that for sure). or three, talk to A directly (likely through text or in person with a witness) and see if i can get it figured out that way (only problem with this is that he got fired from his last job for yelling at THEIR store manager, so i’m a little spooked about what he would do if i confronted him at all about this).

again, im asking a bunch of people their opinions, especially my therapist about what to do because im totally fuckin clueless on the steps i need to take about anything. but u seem knowledgeable in dealing w assholery so it’s worth a shot to get your opinion too. idk. shit freaks me out and i would like to kick him very hard in the shins

Sounds like quite the predicament! First of all, I'm proud of you for standing up for yourself and taking precautions to ensure your safety. It sounds to me like you've made all the right choices so far, especially letting your managers know your feelings so that they can have it on record and also take steps to protect you.

I know its difficult understanding what is right in situations like this. Maybe your coworker doesn't have any bad intentions and just genuinely has a crush on you. We can't fault people for their feelings but we CAN establish our boundaries and recognize when actions overstep those boundaries.

The fact that he took your politeness for interest is not your responsibility. It's his and his alone. The fact that feminine presenting individuals have to literally put on a cold and distant facade to protect themselves from unwanted advances from men who can't tell the difference between friendliness and flirting is tiresome and unfair. And it's not your fault that he's decided to misinterpret your actions and words.

Again, MAYBE his intentions hold no malice but the things he's said and done make you uncomfortable and that's completely understandable. Specifically getting a job in order to pursue you based off his misconceptions is predatory behavior! Maintaining his intentions to pursue you after you made it clear you are not single and not interested is predatory behavior. Him not realizing that it is doesn't make it any less exactly that.

Good job reaching out to your bosses! Seeing as this is a workplace problem, it SHOULD be on their radar. It is up to them to protect you in these situations. I would advise against confronting him on your own because your safety is the most important thing and its not your responsibility to explain to him what hes done wrong. Even if he wouldn't try to cause you harm and this IS all a misunderstanding on his part, he needs to understand that his actions are inappropriate. No hand holding. Leniency leaves room for hope. He cannot think that it's all just a little "oopsies, better luck next time" type of situation rather than the literal workplace violation it is. If he thinks that this is a problem only because you dont like him back, he could possibly move on from you to try doing the same thing to someone new in the future.

He needs to understand that he CANNOT act this way with his coworkers. It's not just disrespectful and inappropriate, but it's literally against the rules, and to some degree, against the law. Sexual harassment comes in all shapes and sizes and the sooner he understands that, the better! Letting men get away with stuff like this breeds more and more audacity which results in more and more uncomfortable and unsafe women. It could even advance to literal assault.

My advice is to inform your managers about the text and see what they think about it. If you feel like they are too lenient with their response, then absolutely go to HR. in fact, it might be good to fill HR in on the situation anyway, just in case. I'm not super well versed in workplace rules but I think just letting them know what is happening now before it escalates could be beneficial. They might even take the time to reach out to A and educate him on the rules and explain to him how his actions are inappropriate. I understand if you're worried about him getting fired or getting angry at you, but I dont think they'd outright punish or fire him on this one offense unless he did something much more extreme.

If you're scared to contact HR on your own, you can ask your managers to do it for you. I'm sure they would be willing to do so. It'd be beneficial for them too, honestly, to inform HR of the situation before it progresses because them knowing and not taking the necessary steps to protect you could make them look bad.

Overall, don't worry about this guy's feelings. If he really intended no malice, then yeah it might be embarrassing for him, but your safety and the safety of potential future victims is more important than his male fragility! It's best for him to learn now when he still has time to correct his mistakes than later when he's already deemed his behavior to be normal and acceptable!

Keep your friends and coworkers updated so they can keep their eye on the situation and take necessary steps to protect you. Don't let A pressure you into speaking to him, especially without other people around. If he wants to apologize, he can do so with multiple witnesses, and then move on and do his work without pestering you again.

I hope that he learns from this experience and doesn't try it again with you or anybody else! He needs to pursue romance in acceptable environments, not at work.

Good luck and stay safe! 🖤 I'm hoping it all goes smoothly and you can put your concerns to rest soon 🌈

[monsterfloofs]

Wyrn x Reader (Anonymous Protagonist) Sfw

(A sleepy demon and a lil sassin protagonist eeeee♡♡♡♡ )

You know you could have it worse off, thank goodness you didn't have to deal with Barbeus, who was known to have a smoking hot temper, or Zelle. Zelle. He was the one who ran the medical district. You’ve heard all sorts of rumors about his workers and what insane things they were tasked to do at odd hours of the night.

But he was going to drive you crazy- You knocked on his door for what it felt like the one hundredth time this morning. "Sir? Are you awake yet? There are at least five people who have asked for you, and I have a summons here for your brother Oren-- Hello?"

Silence.

That does it, you grind your teeth, fighting with the door knob above you before storming into his room. You are met with an enchanted sky full of stars and a dreamy swirling cosmos-- no wonder this guy can sleep his life away. 

Wyrn was sitting on top of his round bed, meditating peacefully. His pale blue skin almost shimmering underneath the strange sky that filled his room. The eye on the middle of his forehead opens to regard you. "Good morning," He intones with his sleepy musical voice. 

"Morning?" You echo in disbelief-- "Morning was three HOURS ago!" 

You grab the heavy curtains and pull them aside, sunlight flooding into the room and making his eye crinkle as it squints from the sudden burst of light.

"I'm sorry sir, but I don't think this is a good time to meditate when there is so much to do," As you talk he takes the parchment from you, his middle eye glancing over them and folding it up as you continue to talk, trying to impress the importance to him about what has been going on. He flops over on the bed and his other eyes flutter open to gaze at you. "But I'm lazy." His expression is deadpan as he watches you. Your voice catches in your throat, "Ah-" You splutter, attempting to regain your composure, flabbergasted as he blinks at you with a steady gaze and bored resolve. H-how are you supposed to respond to that???

You grumble and chew on your cheek pacing the hall as Wyrn gets ready for the day. Finally. Working with him you have felt like a babysitter at times, he could be so childish!! There was one day he dozed off in the middle of one of his own speeches! You almost hadn't realized until a hushed murmur went over the crowd. You had been frantically trying to wake him up by tugging on his pant leg behind the scenes. That was a fiasco!! You can still feel your stomach curl in on itself as you think back to it. 

But the most irritating thing of all. . . was despite his lax carefree nature, he usually was paces ahead of everyone else. No matter how much he sleeps in or slacks off, he is extremely intelligent and is usually patiently waiting for everyone else to catch up. Things were usually done quickly, precisely and orderly. You couldn't place how you felt about him, your emotions ranging from pure frustration to awe. You give a drawn out exasperated sigh, there was also this nagging feeling, in the back of your head that he could read minds or something, he would smile at you like he knew some little secret-- as if you didn't have any more cause to be nervous! You shake your head, you didn't know what to think of Wyrn at all. . . he was an enigma. 

Your hunch about his punctuality was correct, as soon as he left his room, those tasks you had bombarded him with were yet again all done. You squint at him suspiciously but all he offers you is a knowing smile.

"My younger brother is showcasing his flower festival today. . . would you like to accompany me after we have had our tea?" 

You look up at him and frown, finding the offer strange, "Ah. . . n-no thank you, I have some things I have to do here still." You wag your finger at him pouting, "Unlike you-- I have to do things the hard way! I can't just magic my way out of doing work! Mr. Lazy!" He smiles at you good naturedly, a large hand settling on top of your head, patting you affectionately. "I am sure the work can wait, but if that is what you wish. . ." 

You rub the top of your head pouting again. You don't even know why he has an assistant if he can juggle everything himself just fine. You almost wonder if it was inspired by his younger brother, who also had a human working along side of him. . . But at least they worked together and got along! You find yourself alone in the hallway, as Wyrn had left to visit his sibling. You catch your breath and sigh, crossing your arms and squinting off into the distance. You snort and huff as you busy yourself with completing your tasks. Trying to get that kind smile out of your minds eye. Just what was he up to? Asking for you to come along? You give a grin, tapping your forehead, “Jeeze. . . He was probably trying to find a way to lose me in the crowd! And then he’d just go back to napping!” You snort and roll your eyes, trying to ignore the warmth of your cheeks. 

When you had the time to peek up at the clock you found that time had flown by faster than you had realized. You were hurrying to gather your things and put them away-- no doubt your boss would be back soon. You had your back bent over some papers, flipping through them as you double checked the dates, making sure they were in order You were lost in your thoughts when Wyrn calls your name. It was almost so soft you didn't hear it at first, your head snapping up in surprise as you realized he was trying to get your attention. As you look up you are greeted by a bouquet of delicate blue and white flowers. You start to say something but you end up just staring instead, looking from the flowers to the demon.

Wyrn smiles softly, a clawed hand taking yours and gently setting the flowers into your hand. "This is my thanks for putting up with me as much as you do. I know I can be frustrating at times. I shall try not to fluster you so much. . ." You feel your face go hot as he rises back to his full height and walks away. The only thing your mind vaguely comprehending at the moment was the echo of footfalls down the corridor. You blink and shift from foot to foot, staring down at the pretty arrangement of flowers. 

". . . . . . . . . . . . .,"

You let your head sink, the soft petals brushing against your cheeks. 

He had taken you by surprise yet again. When you think you finally have figured him out, he would find some way to surprise you with something new.

There were still days when it was the same old shenanigans, he would rise late and you would huff and fume, telling him off for being lazy. He would take your criticism gracefully, but there would be a playful glint in his eye when he would smile at you. You had never noticed that before. You found yourself being tied up in his mysteries again, he had gotten into the habit of bringing you little gifts whenever he would have to leave. He would offer for you to accompany him, but you would turn him down. You would wonder if those little gestures meant something more than kindness. You managed to snap yourself out of those daydreams! Pushing away those thoughts until the next morning, and the next.

It was morning yet again, and curtains of sunlight streamed in through the windows. Wyrn has yet to rise today, and you had the age old task to wake him. But you had a bounce in your step this morning, looking up at the bundle of blankets as you grin evily, your hands grabbing a fistful of the airy summer blankets, with all intent and purpose in your wee gremlin heart to throw it off of him and give him a rude awakening.

But alas! Your plans are thwarted. Your eyes grow wide as you are picked up and carefully settled down onto his bed. You freeze your shoulders tensing as you stare at him. Wyrn rests his hand on his cheek, smiling lovingly at you, “Good morning,” He muses in his soft musical tone. “Y-you weren’t asleep--” You splutter in horror, and he shakes his head. “That is correct.” you puff up, indignantly, “W-why--” Wyrn smiles with amusement tilting his head, “Why? I wanted to beat you at your own game.” You feel your cheeks prickle with warmth, you stammer, your expression becoming huffy. Wyrn chuckles warmly and smiles, “Besides. . . I wanted to talk to you.” You snort, “You could have just talked to me when you got up! Why do it this way?”

A clawed finger carefully sweeps a lock of hair from your forehead, “I wanted to talk to you alone. . .” he purrs softly, “I wanted to tell you. . . that I enjoy your company, and our playful banter,” You sweat inwardly, you might have felt a little too fired up at times to consider it playful. “You know. . .,” He murmurs softly, “I do not have much interest in the everyday goings on, as you very well know. I tend to keep my eyes to the stars. . . and my head in the clouds. . . but then you came along, and that changed everything.” You chance a glance in his direction, your eyebrows knitting together, “B-but why?. . .” Wyrn blinks sleepily, thinking for a moment. “There’s a lot of reasons, some that I may not be able to entirely explain in words, perhaps it is something to do with fate. That destiny has bound us together. But ever since you came. . . I wished to be a part of your world..” He laughs, “But perhaps it’s more simple, working with you, and getting to know you has been a delight. You are so energetic and animated I don’t know how you can have so much energy.”

Your heart was hammering rapid fire into your throat, and you scoot away from him. Flustered and frazzled, staring at him. “I don’t get it. . .”

“Mm?” Wyrn’s swishes back and forth lazily, “I suppose I am asking. . . in a round about way. . . if you would take me as your one and only. Or if you would consider it. . .”

Your eyes go wide, “Wh-what?” the way his pale yellow eyes stared into you made your throat tighten. “Th-that’s really corny-- you’re teasing me aren’t you?” You stammer, Wyrn frowns softly and shakes his head. “I do mean every word of it. . .” You look down and fall quiet. When you don’t respond, he starts to get up, “You do not have to feel as if you are forced to feel the same way. All I wanted to do was to tell you how I feel, and I do mean every word of it. What you choose to do with that information is entirely up to you dear one. . .” 

You reach up, your hands fingers splayed. “W-wait. . .” You bite your lip, your mind hesitating for a moment before you sit up on your knees, giving him a little kiss before you fluster. Wyrn blinks slowly before he smiles. “I also. . .” You murmur slowly, “like being by your side. Even if I’ve felt frusterated at times. . .” “Frusterated?” He teases you gently, carefully nuzzling against you, “When have you ever felt that?” You grumble something softly in response and he laughs. “I shall try to be more conciderate,” He says sweetly, smiling at you as his eyes crinkle up. Carefully leaning down to place a kiss on your forehead. “I am sure there is a lot to do today, just like every other.” He sits up and stands, stretching his arms up and back as you slide off the bed. You allow yourself a shy smile and nod, “At least you are up in time for breakfast this morning. . .” Wyrn perks up and smiles. “You shall join me for morning tea then?”

You nod again, following him quietly out of his room, stifling a yawn of your own.

[sicklove-stuff]

𝕸𝖞 𝕸𝖞 𝕸𝖎𝖘𝖘𝖋𝖔𝖗𝖙𝖚𝖓𝖊 - FIC.

Notice to all, this fanfic has content considered uncomfortable, sensitive and politically incorrect. If you don't like it, leave soon. - The fanfic shows content of masochism, sadism, rebellion, aggression ... It is worth mentioning that nothing here reflects on the wrestlers, it is just a drama involving their characters in the ring.

Made by Omoshi’ 

★ Undertaker “Ministry of Darkness” era | +18 | Y/N “your name”, will be “Sara”. 

My best friend, Stephanie, when we were at the mall for the past few days ... She told me about a lunatic who claimed to be the minister of darkness with some companions, he wanted to marry her at any cost, however, I already knew that she was getting involved with another guy. This seems to be more disturbing than it looks, but whenever she describes it while we are choosing shoes in stores and among expensive clothes racks, it makes me crazy and my mouth water. - However, I can never express this to Stephanie, because she never seems to be happy to tell about it. I'm starting to sound a little bit possessive about this story that keeps me going, but poor Stephanie, she's having a misfortune.

I started thinking about it while I wait outside the company where her crazy father works, this backstage has never been so full of people that she thinks she can achieve something with me, despite the golden and virgin hair that I take care of very well, this is not an invitation. I snort by the mouth and start shaking my legs while I wait for her, she told me she had a party today ... It would only take a measly minute to say hello to her boyfriend, even though I repeatedly warned her that her boyfriend already had a girlfriend, she just giggles out of my face and pushes me in tones of fun ... saying it was better to live like this, in danger. What a stupid girl! - As time goes by I feel cheated, it's been twenty minutes since this has been happening. I bite my lips while anxiety overwhelms me, we're twenty minutes late from the party ... Just today that Stephanie hadn't robbed me of one of the few boys who had looked at me. It's her habit, stealing boyfriends ... Like she said, she feels dangerous.

Suddenly, everything was so ... empty? While I was lost in my thoughts, I did not notice the hours passing and the people passing too, it seemed that finally she would appear, or had she forgotten me there? Damn it. -When she lifted me from where she sat, a huge black box, to leave. I realize that everything is already closed, and everything starts to get scarier. Scarier, scarier ... Scarier. This is repeated more and more, more and more ... My head doesn't look very well. - Did something pull me?

When I look to the side, I notice that my whole skin is sweating, another hand wraps around my wrist, I look at my forearm, arm, covered in tattoos ... Demon tattoos, flames, just like Stephanie had said, that's ... It's realy true? When I go up to see who the face is ... The ordinary person's voluntary action is to faint with fear, or shout for help, but, I feel that I'm not that common, because that was the all dangerous guy that Stephanie was scared to death? He looked hotter than the ones she dated. - I could be stupid, I know, but my voluntary action was to smile a little, malicious smile. And again my mouth was full of water, but I stayed exactly in place, there was still "ice" inside me.

"Ah, I'm sorry, I'm Sara and ... I'm sorry if I was invading your area. BUT LET ME GO!" - Said while trying to let go, I liked guys like that but, it didn't seem to be very friendly, could it be that I've been thinking nonsense all this time and in the end, Steph was right?

He then pinned me to the wall. He was against his body, his arms were driving me crazy, and his psychotic look and his silence too, I soon tried to get quiet, that's when he brought his face closer to mine, bringing his mouth closer to my ear, God I never I had felt that sensation before. That's when I let out a heavy breath that he was pressing me against the wall. He then decided to break his silence.

"You are allied with that bitch." -He said, I was not surprised his voice was heavy with melancholy and rejection. As if everything in his life had gone ... Wrong? - "Do you want to end up like her? I always watch, she likes you, and my goal is to destroy all those she loves." -I managed to notice that he was laughing quietly and discreetly, just as if he was making fun of me. - "Sara ... Despite everything, beautiful name."

I didn't know if it made me feel hot, sexually and lovingly uncomfortable, or if it scared me, very scared. The misfortune that Stephanie always told me was, at that moment, my misfortune. Mine, my misfortune. I obviously tried to be reluctant to mind my own business, I forced my hand to keep him away from me, no one came around. It seemed to be not just a joke and a joke, the darkness was with this man.

"She does not love me!" - I pushed hard in an act of control over myself, successfully, I was away from him for a few centimeters, withdrawing my arms, unintentionally I ended up touching on a subject that I never wanted to get to ... "She betrays my confidence all the time, and I can only say that it's okay, when in fact it isn't! " - I couldn't believe what I ended up doing, I was confessing all my disappointment about my supposed best friend to a guy who supposedly wanted to kill and her family.But a long time ago, I didn't care about that, I did everything she wanted, so I could not live alone, while she lived surrounded by attention, people, appearing on television every Monday ... Surrounded by fans by simply to be rich, when in fact she was unbearable and stupid ... 

I know he wanted to cut me in half that hour, but, I think his plans had not worked out, he seemed very weakened. His hands weighed on my shoulders behind his back, he could do whatever he wants with me at that moment, since everything I carried over time I realized more of what was happening in my life, a lot of unhappiness and lies, I was always smiling and leaving, so as not to feel alone, when in fact I was more heartbroken than ever, Stephanie didn’t deserve to be with that boyfriend she was stealing from another woman who also loved him, as she told me, she deserved to pay for everything she complained.

"If you want to kill me, go ahead, my self-esteem is already in the trash. I don't have much to do anymore, because my biggest purpose in life has always been to be her shadow, SHE EVEN STEALS THE GUYS I WANT!" - Okay, I had already passed the point, but I hoped that he would soon get tired of me and leave, or just break my neck soon. That’s kind of suicidal.

Contrary to what I expected, he knew how to overcome my existential crisis at that time, I could feel his hands walking around my body, this was extremely strange, it was like he wanted to take advantage of me, but if I was there , I would not fight against the current, I did not know this guy, nor did I know his name, but his dark and evil aura made me crazy to the point of wanting everything he could offer me; so he knew how to select the phrases I said ...

"Do you steal the guys you try? Certainly because they are guys." - He said. A grip on the waistband of my skirt, and I just froze, and I then felt the fabric being slowly lowered ... And I then turned to face him in a feature of pure fear but micro-expressions said I wanted more than ever before.

"I ... I don't know your name ... What's your name?" - I asked while I realized that my skirt was already lowered to almost half of my thighs, I sweated coldly as I took a few steps back against a door. I was trapped.

"I have many names, many nicknames, but you can call me Taker. They currently have me as the Ministry of Darkness." - He came back to me and put his hand on the door handle that was supported, certainly if he opened it, I would fall back with all the strength I could, the moment I reasoned it, I already noticed it opening and my dancing feet losing their stability.I swallowed hard when I felt myself falling on the floor, an all dark room, some shelves, I couldn't identify what was there, I had fallen with my hips directly on the floor, painful as the impact hurt my whole spine in that tension, that tension and that horny I felt. I rolled my eyes when I heard the door being closed, nibbled on my lower lip ... I felt extremely strange, as if there was something burning inside me, the situation didn't help much anymore, my position with my legs spread and my skirt dropped even more , with my panties showing. When I least realized it, he would lower himself, and stay between my thighs ... I again gasped in suspense. I couldn't believe that what I was idealizing so much could actually happen. I can't sing victory before the moment.

"Oh, Sara ... Your drama is really ... Sad, but I'm not as sorry as I should be." - That sentence totally entered my being, while I already felt the fabric of the skirt go through the end of my legs, being accompanied by my panties that obviously could be a little wet. My cheeks went red as blood, from pure shame.I noticed him pulling something, it sounded like a blade, a ... A pocket knife ... And my immediate action was to grunt and stay static. The cold iron coming into contact with my skin, it made me shiver, but I was ... Liking, my side that I always hid, that of a crazy lover of good pain, if I said that to anyone it would be called a crazy bitch. And that was when I felt the blood flow, I closed my eyes tightly hoping for the worst, but, it had been a cut on the thigh, thin ... And then, he licked it.He licked my blood and my thigh, making other small cuts and licking them ...

 They were all very close to "that area", my intimacy, as if they were a path where it really made me shiver more than ever, my fingers stretched, a wave of enormous pleasure ruled me, I was practically out of my mind, I was no longer the Sara I knew. As he licked more, he got deeper, I could see that he had a huge tongue, he smelled, it made me extremely crazy; the fact that I was not seeing anything in the dark left me with "hands tied", he squeezed my thighs and I felt the blood drain more, but, he no longer licked the blood, he just licked my pubis and clitoris, I scratched the floor, the pure cold concrete trying to contain me more and more.That's when he said, after countless hickeys and licks ... 

"Don't hold back" - and laughed at me as he continued.Technically obeying his order, I moved the hands that were scratched on the floor to his hair, Taker ...

 Taker ... I repeated it in my head, Undertaker, Undertaker, of course ... I forced him against me, which made it more intense .. The first time I was having a moment like that, sensual, sexual ... What a misfortune Stephanie was missing all along. That room was already almost impregnated with my smell, I pulled her long hair, I could feel her beard ... until I couldn't help it, I splashed everything on her face. Once, twice, three times.I breathed as if I had run an entire marathon. That was when I decided to change the position and hold on to him, who had been kneeling, I held his waist and then let out the sentence: 

"You don't need Stephanie ... Forget her!"

He answered me...

"I already forgot.".

[ladysmaragdina]

I know I'm late as hell, but Dishonored 2... Which path should you choose (high/ low chaos) in order to stay the most true to Emily's and Corvo's character? I've always loved reading your Dishonored fics and analyzes, you always make the characters make such good sense =>

So this ask has been sitting in my inbox for over two weeks now. Which I feel terribly guilty about, because I want to give this question the thought and weight and few-thousand words it probably deserves, but… ugh, okay.

Dishonored 1 is my single favorite game, ever.

I’m utterly indifferent to Dishonored 2.

I’m not interested in Dishonored 2.

I have a hard time even saying that I like Dishonored 2.

I’m not going to be able to answer this question, anon. And I feel like I should explain why. (A lot of this is going to be a reatread of what I talked about in my big Dishonored 2 critique I wrote back when the game came out. Whoops)

I played through the game once, the instant it came out – as Emily in a Clean Hands run – and I really, really enjoyed it at first. I loved getting to play as Emily. I loved that the gameplay was objectively better than the first one. I loved how bright and different and rich the world looked. I was so fucking into Dishonored 2! I probably spent an extra couple of hours exploring every nook and cranny of the Royal Conservatory after knocking out the witches, and finding Corvo’s old apartment in the Dust District was a fucking treat. I love the Dishonored world. I wanted to know everything. I was gonna write so much fucking meta and fanfic.

But by the time I got to A Crack In The Slab, I was starting to realize that the story felt… off.

By the time I finished that mission and it was suddenly time to go get rid of the Duke… I mean, I was still having fun! The game was fucking cool! But I raced through the streets leadup to the Duke’s palace without really exploring. I raced through the Duke’s palace like I was speedrunning it. There are entire floors of that level I never saw, and wasn’t remotely interested in seeing. I didn’t care.

I was bored by the time I got back to Dunwall. I was frustrated by how long it took me to work through the many levels of the palace. I just wanted to get to the finale and find out how the story ended. (and then I found the ending profoundly unsatisfying)

I realized none of this mattered.

If this was ultimately a story about stopping Delilah from mantling the Outsider —- as the metaplot seemed to insist – what the fuck were we doing in Karnaca? Why did we care about Karnaca? Karnaca’s problems weren’t my problems, Emily’s problems, at least not in any clear direct way; Karnaca’s problems weren’t even bad. The bloodflies were endemic to the region instead of being a super-scary weird semi-supernatural plague; it might have been a particularly bad year for bloodflies, but it didn’t feel like anything the city couldn’t deal with. The streets were lively. There were nobles sitting in cafes playing guitar music. Shops were open and well-lit. I felt like I could go to the beach and sip mai-tais. Even the most run-down, awful section of Karnaca that we got to see – the Dust District – wasn’t much worse than anything we’d seen on a Tuesday in Dunwall.

And Karnaca wasn’t home. It didn’t feel like it mattered to Emily. Not really. It was in Emily’s empire, sure, but it was an ocean away and it wasn’t under her direct personal governance. And the Emily we met at the start of the game wasn’t interested in governing to begin with. I could never buy the sense that she cared – really, emotionally cared – about the well-being of Karnaca, because Karnaca was relatively fine, and because Emily seemed like she would rather fuck off and abdicate given half the chance. Being exiled from Gristol didn’t feel like exile – it felt like a sunny vacation, a chance for Emily to have cool swashbuckling adventures without the boredom and paperwork of sitting a throne. 

I didn’t understand what I was really doing in Karnaca, and I didn’t understand why it was so urgent and important and needed that I get home to Dunwall. I was just told that I had to get home to Dunwall because Delilah was Bad. And that she was doing some Very Bad Things on the other side of the ocean, and that if she remained unchecked things would get Worse. YOU NEED TO STOP DELILAH, I was told.

But…. gosh, that was on the other side of the ocean. That didn’t seem to affect anything here. Again, Karnaca was fine! Karnaca’s had some issues, but they were were caused firstly by the Duke, not Delilah! What bad things was Delilah really doing? Can we see them? How are they worse than anything any other nobles and rulers are doing? How would installing Emily on the throne be meaningfully different?

What would Delilah’s plan to mantle the Outsider actually mean? The finale gives us a vision of The World As It Should Be, a supremely alien lotus-eater machine where Delilah is absolute monarch; it comes so late in the game, at the absolute eleventh hour, that it doesn’t feel meaningful. It also comes totally out of left field and is so bizarre and extreme that I had no fear that it could ever actually happen. Everything about Delilah’s ascension and ultimate goal is so bizarre and extreme that I had no fear it could ever actually happen. I didn’t understand how it was supposed to happen. The mechanics of magic had never mattered before; why did they matter now? Why did the half-baked explanation for Delilah’s endgame rely on lore from the previous game’s second DLC? (What the fuck, Arkane?)

What was my motivation? Why were my missions important – why did Emily want and need to do these things? What would happen, actually happen, if I failed? What was keeping me from just walking away?

I’m really not sure.

Maybe, just maybe, we could ignore the weird ascension to godhood plot. Maybe my real motivation had nothing to do with Delilah – maybe Emily just wanted to get back to the home that was taken from her. Maybe this was a “take back whats yours” story. But Emily didn’t seem to really want the throne back. The Emily we met at the beginning of the game was bored with governing and wanted out of Dunwall. If we’d had more time and attention paid to that shift in her character, I’d buy it, but you can’t do a complete and instant 180 on a character’s feelings and call it motivation.

Or maybe my real motivation was to get home to Dunwall to save Corvo. But the opening sequence made it seem like Corvo was dead. That’s not a valid motivation either.

Maybe my motivation was to avenge Corvo? I don’t buy that the way I bought Corvo avenging Jessamine in Dishonored 1; in Dishonored 2, Corvo is not the focus and meaning of Emily’s life, and I can’t see her structuring her entire life around fighting back from exile just to avenge him. Emily has hopes and dreams and a distant love interest and isn’t the same hollowed-out husk of vengeance that Corvo is. Sure, he’s her father figure, but I don’t buy that as her sole motivation.

This lack of motivation trickles down to the individual missions of the game.

If I don’t really know or care about what Delilah is doing, why is it so important to stop Breanna Ashworth?

Kirin Jindosh is supposedly making an army of Clockwork Soldiers, but what does that mean? How soon would they be ready, what are the logistics, how powerful are they, how are they worse than Tallboys or other existing technology, what was he going to use them for? Why is it so important to take him out? Couldn’t we just bribe him or write him a strongly-worded letter? I’m going to be the Empress – couldn’t I make his soldiers illegal or shut down his factories? Why do I have to go to such an immediate and awful extreme?

Sure, the Duke is a dick and should probably be replaced by a better ruler. Doing so doesn’t feel important. I’ve never met the Duke. He never did anything to me. Karnaca’s in decent shape, all things considered. Killing or replacing him  feels like taking out the trash.

Where are the stakes?

Why do I care about any of this?

Tangent – I feel like I’ve got to talk about Corvo a bit here. Would Corvo have a different, stronger, more personal attachment to Karnaca? Sure, but I’ve never played Corvo’s route in Dishonored 2 and can’t speak to it. Personally, I always got the sense that Corvo felt like an outsider in Gristol and that he would have tried to distance himself from Serkonos in response to this, and that returning must have felt oddly alien, like an ill-fitting suit. Now, this is a cool thing to explore. It might make him more invested and interested in some aspects of the game – I’m thinking of the Duke and Stilton in the Dust District, specifically – but I don’t think it fixes the core issues about lack of motivation in the overarching plot.

So, let’s talk about that overarching plot. Would Corvo feel more strongly about getting back to Gristol and restoring Emily to the throne and/or bringing vengeance to her “killer”? Probably! Corvo’s arc in Dishonored 2 isn’t about toppling Delilah and seeking vengeance for his own sake, but rather for Emily’s sake (or at least the memory of Emily-who-we-think-is-dead). That’s less selfish and entitled, more emotional and tortured. That’s honestly more interesting to me. But that’s the exact same story we got in Dishonored 1. Corvo’s entire existence in Dishonored 2 feels like a rehash of Dishonored 1. The vengeance arc in Dishonored 2 feels much more muddled and unfocused and distant in comparison. It’s not as good.

I think Corvo’s story and motivation are more clear and pressing and straightforward than Emily’s; but I think Dishonored 1 did that exact same story and motivation much much better. Corvo’s story in Dishonored 2 honestly makes more sense to me than Emily’s story. Which feels utterly backwards! One protagonist has a storyline and motivation that has no real weight or drive or urgency behind it. The other protagonist has a slightly stronger storyline that is still a weaker, fuzzier retread of the first game.

I think Dishonored 2 is badly written.

I like it on the micro level – I like the characters and the levels – but on the macro, i think it’s a confused jumble that doesn’t know what it wants to be. Is it a vengeance story? Is it a story about stopping a supernatural threat? I don’t know, and I don’t think it does either. The game doesn’t manage to mesh those ideas at all, and neither idea holds water on its own. I am utterly confused and turned off by the game’s decision to make the vengeance so un-urgent and impersonal and the villain’s magic-driven plan so distant and obtuse and ill-defined. I think that in deciding to make the scope bigger, it bit off way more than it could chew and lost sight of what matters in storytelling.

Dishonored 1 was a tightly-focused straightforward revenge plot where I understood exactly what I had lost, how much it mattered, and what was at stake. Dishonored 2 is a fucking mess.

I can’t write about which choices Corvo and Emily would have taken because their choices don’t make sense to me; because their existence and participation in this story makes no sense to me; because the story hops from point to point without establishing thematic or plot coherence; because I don’t understand – emotionally, really buy and feel and understand – why I’m meant to give a shit about any of it.

I played the game once, started a High Chaos replay, wandered away from the game after the second mission, and uninstalled. I have no interest in replaying it. I have no interest in ever picking up Death of the Outsider. The fact that the writing seems to be moving away from the vengeance quest and doubling down on its focus on the supernatural (and the fact that they’re dragging back characters – Corvo in Dishonored 2, Daud in DotO – whose arcs had finished) has honestly killed my interest in the franchise at this point. I don’t feel anything about this other than a profound sense of disappointment. 

I wanted to like Dishonored 2. The game is gorgeous and fun and an improvement on the original in many ways. I wanted to answer your question, anon. I truly wish I could, and I’m sorry for how salty this post has become. I’m sure someone else would have fantastic headcanons and insight.

But I just. don’t. care.

[mazojo]

I'm loving your drunk headcanon! How about a scenario where jumin and mc are having an argument about him being overworked and not getting any real rest and he went back to the company with bitterness. Feeling worried for him mc decides to go to Jumin to make ammend but something terrible happens when someone tries to kill him. At the last minute mc turn the table around and protect him and takes the blow instead. I really love a desperate jumin. Can you make this angsty and ends it with a fluff

Ohhhhh thank youu ~~ I love me some Jumin angst head canons so i’ll give it a try

Warning: Some violence so beware ~

Jumin x MC Fight Headcanon

MC is on their penthouse sitting stiffly on their living room couch, the apartment feeling very cold. Its 11pm and he still hasn’t arrived. As she leaves another voice call again for what feels like the 20th time that night the door unlocks and in comes the man of the hour.

- “God I hate company meetings, seriously do these airheads think they could put information past me? I am so go-”

- Suddenly Jumin trails off seeing MC sitting on the couch, her beautiful face is full of emotion he cant decipher, anger? sadness? disappointment?

- “Jumin Han do you know what time it is? Do you know how worried sick ive been? Is your phone suddenly absent when your wife calls you to know when you are arriving home?”

- She never called him by his full name, never.

- Crap, he totally forgot to turn his phone on after the meeting and the whole ride home he was too angry thinking about the way the meeting had gone, he should have called her.

- “I am extremely sorry MC. Today has been an off day and I would rather you not get agitated right now. Have you eaten? Did the chef’s cuisines meet your standards?”

- “Jumin Han I am being serious right now and you are talking about food quality? Its the third time this week the meetings have kept you longer than 9pm. And dont you dare change the topic to cuisine standards” MC said the last part with a mocking tone bordering sadness.

- But he wasn’t changing he topic. Couldn’t she see he was genuinely concerned about the food quality? He couldn’t bare her having something that didn’t reach excellence. Couldn’t she see this was all for her? He wouldn’t stand being less than perfect, the man she deserved.

- “I worked this schedule because I need to be the perfect man for you, to deserve your love. I didn’t me-”

- “This isn’t what I signed up for Jumin Han! I want your company to succeed and I am trying to understand your work habits, but not at the expense of your health, sleep and my sanity! Sitting for the past 2 hours waiting for a call or a miserable text! This isn’t the life I want!” 

- The temperature suddenly drops by 10 degrees and MC regrets the words as soon as she says them. Of course this is the man he wants, just not when overworking to strive perfection for her blinds him.

- It stings. This isn’t the life she wants? Of course it isn’t. Who would like to be with someone emotionally unstable who doesn’t know a thing about relationships? He is the problem, always have been.

- “You’re right, I need to go, I need to think. Please do not follow me. Go get the rest you deserve and we’ll talk later when we cool off” His tone was cool and calculating but the could see how much her words hurt him.

- Jumin grabs his car keys in a hurry and doesn’t even ask the chauffeur to accompany him, he needed to be alone.

- MC crumbles as tears of anger, frustration and sadness roll down her cheeks. Stupid. Why cant he see she loves him no matter how many deals he closes? She just wants him to let loose a little and realize he loves Jumin Han for the cat loving concerned self, not corporate director Jumin Han for his titles.

- MC looks at the time, 11:20, its way too late and she knew were he was headed. He always went to the office and trap himself in a pile of work whenever he is stressed out. MC grabs her coat and gets in the first cab passing by against the security guards protests. They knew Mr. Han would not approve MC going out by herself on a cab at this hour.

- Meanwhile Jumin is driving faster than he should. The words This isn’t the life I want screaming in his head.

- He stops the car in front of the building he left no longer than an hour ago. sigh. As he ran a hand through his hair he thought about the look MC gave him as the worlds rolled out. Regret. 

- He loses his tie remembering it was the one MC choose. She always made sure to wake up with him to have breakfast and select his tie. Her picks were always perfect and those few moments they stole each morning remained with him for the rest of the day while he constantly looked at his watch for the time to arrive home and see her beautiful eyes. God he loved her eyes and the way they looked at him with concern for the tiniest things like whether he ate lunch or wether he liked her outfit (mind you, he always did, she was perfect). Tonight those eyes were cold and unforgiving.

- As he turned on the phone exiting the car he noticed some movement in the corner of his eyes.

- The cab MC took drove fast, she was sure they were breaking the speed limit but she didn’t care. She needed to find her husband.

- As they arrive, MC rolls out a couple bills not even caring for the change and with only one thought in mind, Jumin.

- She sees it first. The man approaching his dark haired boy with an impeccable stealth and a knife. No.

-  Time seems to stop and as Jumin slowly turns around sensing something is off the man raises his knife menacing demanding he gives him his phone.

- Jumin eyes widen and is struck dumb in his place. As the man starts approaching Jumin, each step more threateningly, Jumin catches a sight of straight brown hair in the corner and panic fills him up. What is she doing here?

- “Dont you dare lay a hand on him!” MC screams while pushing Jumin out of the way just as the man strikes with his knife, slashing MC’s side. With MC’s scream and noticing the security cameras on the front of the building, he flees.

- No. no no no. Idiot. A feeling Jumin had never felt took over him. She is hurt and its my fault. Its my god damn fault someone laid a hand on her.

- MC clutches her side and falls to the pavement. As she looks up she finds Jumin with the most petrified and horrified expression on his face. 

- Realizing he is standing there staring at her he finally decided to move for MC. The first thing he does is hug her fiercely, not even caring about the blood which will certainly leave a stain on his blazer. Red, so red.

- “Its okay, it was just a cut, probably will only leave a bruise”. He knew her damn well to know she was playing it off. She is bleeding. 

- “Take your shirt off” He said it as a first instinct leaving all poise aside, he needed to see the wound. MC eyes widen and he realizes she is still laying down in the cold floor in a public street with a wound on her side which was his fault.

“Shit. shit. shit” Without thinking it twice he carries her making sure she is comfortable in his arms. He takes her over to his car and fumbling with his keys, lays her down on the passenger seat rolling her shirt aside to examine the wound.

- He would call the paramedics. No they take too damn long. If he called the firefighters they could clear the already empty streets and arrive faster to the hospital. He could drive her but there was no way she would travel in the backseat by herself risking falling down or straining herself. He could probably call his private chauffeur to bring the helicopter bu-

- “Honey, its okay, I am okay. The important thing is that you are okay” Remembering he hadn’t say a word for the last 30 seconds he suddenly turned to her meeting her eyes for the first time since the incident. Since the fight. No, the thing is that you are not okay and I wasn’t able to save you.

- As MC meets Jumin’s eyes she sees an edge on his normally composed face. He was terrified and she needed to reassure him she was there, she was his.

- Gathering a little strength MC sits up enough to catch his lips and wake him up from his trance. It seems to work as he desperately holds onto her, tears working their way into his cheeks.

- “Honey, this is what we will do; you’ll grab your phone and call an ambulance which should arrive in 10 minutes or so considering urgent care is 5 blocks ahead. We will wait here and in no way am I letting you take the blame for this. I decided to come follow you and tackle you, and god knows what would have happened if I didn’t. I am here and I am yours”

- She is perfect and I am a fool.

- “MC, I-I swear if someone touches you again ever they will pay. God, he will pay and I am making damn sure they find that piece of trash to rot in jail.”

- It was unsettling seeing him so decompose, his calming features twisted in a rage she had never seen as he dials the hospital and as he hangs the phone MC remembers the reason why she was coming in the first place to look for him.

- “Babe I know its not the best of times, god I was just stabbed and a man almost killed you but I- I am so s-sorry” She tried her best not to cry but broke down in the last word. “I-I didn’t mean what I said and of c-course this is the life I want, hell I would give my life for y-yours, its just… Seeing the eye bags under your eyes each morning kills me because you work so damn hard all the t-time and my one job as your wive is to ensure you’re okay and I even fail at that a-and…”

- Jumin holds her as her sobbing intensifies and his features soften. He knew she meant every word she just said and knowing he had caused her such pain made his insides churn. He pressed his lips to hers softly, like she would break, and convey everything he was thinking. He loved her and she will never suffer again because of him, never.

Lolll I kinda went overboard //hides. Thanks for the request! Hope I made it justice ;w;

[khorren]

Not done a character interview in a while, and Amarilis has been in my head a lot recently.

INTRODUCTION

[Interviewer: High on a cliff in the north end of Caledon Forest I have finally tracked down the elusive Sylvari known as Amarilis. Boy you're a hard one to find. ]

Can you introduce yourself?:

Hrm. *She gently places her rifle on the ground after assessing the asura who is overloaded with climbing equipment, notepads, and basic camping gear.* My name is Amarilis. Ally to the Commander, part of Celestial Order and ..... *she sits down next to the weapon and crosses her legs with a little difficulty*

What is you gender identity, orientation and relationship status?:

Wow. Getting right into it, huh. Well I identify as female, this is all a fuzzy concept for a lot of Sylvari. We are who we are, we love who we love. As for relationship, no, no, not any more. There was someone but he.... he's gone now.

Where and when were you born?:

I was born in the Grove like all of my kin. The year was 1306 AE, around two years after the secondborn, as many of them are known. Some would consider me a secondborn but they went through troubles and victories I didn't, and I wouldn't want to take that away from them.

What is your weapon of choice and fighting style?:

These days. Guns. Rifles in particular. In my youth I was much more of a skirmisher with daggers and a bow. I prefer to stay at a distance and support now. More aware of my surroundings.

Lastly, are you happy?:

I'm doing better. Thank you.

FAMILY AND FRIENDS

What’s your family like? What is your relationship with them?:

Being Sylvari, my family is quite large. Some would consider every one of them to be a sibling. While it's true, many of them are family to me, these days I am also very disconnected to most of them. Physically and emotionally.

Have you ever ran away from home?:

A lot. When I first awoke from the dream I stayed extremely close to the Grove. I had a destiny and I trained with many of the great fighters and defenders we had. But as I became more familiar with how things worked I longed to forge my own path. It started with sneaking out at night and returning by dawn. Eventually one day I just.... left. And was gone for 10 years.

Would you consider marriage or having children?:

There was one I would have considered to bond with eternally, but he's gone now. Will I find someone else? Who knows.

Do you secretly hate one of your friend?:

It's not a hatred, no. But... *she sighs and pinches the bridge of her nose while thinking* My kin who blindly follow the Dream, especially now. I understand the purpose, of that and Ventari's teachings. It's important to do good, to be a fair person, but you need to come to that conclusion on your own.

Which friend knows everything about you?:

Trahearne.... did. His Wyld Hunt was rough on him, but he still took the time to understand me and my drive. He got to see me free, and was happy for me. But then he just had to go and get involved with that damned Pact. We stole a few moments here and there but it wasn't enough. Since him? No. Khorren knows a fair bit, but again... Dreamer. *she shrugs* She'll never quite get it.

ASKED BY FANS

Are you literate? Have you been to school?:

I came out of the dream with basic understanding of the common tongue and writen word. We didn't have any formal education system like humans or the asura. Trahearne taught me a little Orrian, I can pick out the odd word or two. Being able to understand "Danger" or "keep out" in any written language is always a good idea.

The eeriest prediction you made that later came true?:

That I would die trying to get rid of that damned Hunt. I have the scars to prove it. But I'm still here and my own person. So screw you, higher powers.

What is something you were embarrassingly late to realize?:

How much that book nerd meant to me.

Do you have mental health or physical issues?:

Woo boy. Where to begin? I got rid of my Wyld Hunt through every method I could think of. I've tried poison and other toxins externally and internally. Had way too many curious humans and asura poke and prod me. Invade me. I have this *she traces a finger down the large scar across her face*. Almost died from exposure to both heat and cold, almost drowned. Maybe I did? I don't really remember. I blacked out. Awoke back on land a few miles from where I was diving... Oh, and my legs. I prefer to grow my own armor, but my legs are... they haven't healed in a long time. An asura krewe have set me up with some extremely supportive technology that keeps me upright, mobile, and nimble. It really is incredible. Without these supports I would not be able to walk, that's for sure.

[Interviewer: And... nothing can heal them?]

I... wont go back to the Grove. Maybe a Mender there could help? Maybe the Mother Tree? But no, I can't go back there. I wont. What I have works for now.

As you can see, all of this is causing a whole storm in my mind. Am I being stubborn? Did I just work too hard to get where I am and I see going back as failure? Lots to unpack, but I don't have the time or inclination to think about that.

CHOICES

Drink or food?:

Food! Finding water is easy. But finding a good meal? Oh, heavens to Dwayna. I've eaten terrible things to stay alive, and finding civilisation on my travels was several days away sometimes. Rations only get you so far before you go crazy wanting a real meal.

Cats or dogs?:

Dogs. They're loyal... to a fault. But they're good company. Make good traveling buddies. Cats are fine too, of course, if your'e the sort of person to stay in one place, having a nice house cat around is calming. I've stayed in a few norn homesteads that had cats.

Early bird or night owl?:

Night owl. I emerged in the cycle of Dusk so that's when I prefer to rise and start my day. As everyone else winds down I'm just getting going.

Optimist or pessimist?:

Others probably see me as a pessimist. I'm just trying to be my real self.

Sassy or sarcastic?:

Sass.

HAVE YOU EVER

Been caught sneaking out:

Too much. The Wardens found me a lot when I was younger, before I really learned to sneak about.

Broke a bone:

I don't.... really have bones? But many injuries, yes. As I said early, my legs especially are more or less useless, if not for the supports in these leg-guards.

Received flowers:

Khorren likes to bring them to me when we get a chance to meet up. I don't really have anywhere to put them, but I'll carry them around for a few days after. It makes the pack smell nice at least.

Ghosted someone:

The Wardens. *she sighs* They did an amazing job training me and then I just .... left. I'd like to say sorry one day. Especially to Niamh.

Pretended to laugh at a joke you didn’t get:

I've spent a lot of time around asura. They... talk funny. You just have to laugh and smile at the scientist holding scalpels to your brain.

[Interviewer: And I think that's enough for my research. Thank you, miss Amarilis for your time. I'll leave you to your, uh, ledge.]

[be-more-boyf-riends]

Michael attempts suicide in the bathroom and jeremy finds him? I apologize. I'm a total slut for suffering.

Hi!! Thank you so much for the recommendation!! This fic is super long compared to my other one-shots I got rly into it lol. I hope you enjoy!!

I did some LIGHT research but not a ton so a large amount of this is NOT TRUE!! If you overdose on adderall, it is not possible to not get the side effect the nurse mentions. None of this is stated as scientific fact, it is all a writer twisting fact to fit their narrative - please keep this in mind!!

OBVIOUSLY A MASSSSIVE WARNING FOR SUICIDE ATTEMPTS AND DRUG OVERDOSES PLEASE STAY AWAY IF THATS BAD FOR YOU!

(Word Count : 1,933)

Michael stared in the mirror, the banging from outside becoming louder and louder in his eardrums. He watched the tears stream down his cheeks, breath getting caught in his throat as he struggled to keep himself upright. Thoughts raced through his head. Jeremy was out there - Jeremy was alone now. MICHAEL was alone now. He officially had no one ; he was officially…alone. Nothing he did had any significance. Nothing he did effected anyone, since no one was around him. His parents were constantly off on business trips, coming home once every six months if they even felt like it and sending him bills to pay for the house and food. He had no family. And with Jeremy gone, he no longer had any friends either. He didn’t have any animals - he wanted some like hell, but could never afford them, all considering. It was a shock the boy could keep up his weed habit, but it sometimes felt like smoking weed was the only thing keeping him sane. He felt his panic attack grow as his mind raced, his thoughts spitting out horrible, demeaning words. “Why don’t you just kill yourself…?” Something in the back of his head cooed, causing for his body to shiver. “We’re in a bathroom - Jake must have some pills somewhere. Open the cabinets.”Shakily, not even fully aware of his actions, Michael reached up. He ripped open the cabinet, ignoring the other side of his brain that begged him to be rational. He rooted through all of the medicine in the cabinet - ibuprofen wouldn’t do shit, and neither would the stupid childrens cough medicine. Michael knew he could somehow find a razor if he looked hard enough, but that was too much blood for some innocent person to have to clean up. His saving - or damning? who knows - grace came at the very back of the cabinet. With shaking hands, he pulled out a small bottle of Adderall, breathing immediately becoming heavier as he realized that he was actually about to do it. He scrunched his eyes tightly closed, thoughts running through him at a thousand miles per hour. Was he actually about to do this? Yes, he was. Nobody gave a shit about him - his own best friend of TWELVE FUCKING YEARS shoved him aside. Practically spat on him. Called him the same thing they had spent their entire LIVES being called. Michael quickly came to one realization - there was no place on this world for him. Nobody on this world for him. He didn’t belong here. Nobody cared, and nobody would cry. He was unwanted. He was useless.He was just some stoner loser. With that last thought, he tore open the cap, the tears streaming down his face in rapid fashion, making it harder to see. He dumped a large amount of pills - way more than the recommended dose - into his palms, downing it without thinking. He did that again, determined to make sure this worked. At first, he started shaking. Then, he collapsed to the ground, sputtering and gripping his chest. Weakly, he registered it as a seizure, and he knew it was too late at that point. He heard the door slam open. He heard screams, voices yelling for someone to call an ambulance. He felt arms reaching down and cradling him, arms he recognized. He was able to peel open his eyes for half a moment, just in time to catch Jeremy’s bright irises, before he completely shut down and everything went black. 

Jeremy was talking with Jenna when it happened. It all happened in a blur, but he remembered the main actions. Two boys ran up to him, screaming that some kid had attempted suicide in the bathroom and was having a seizure next to a spilled bottle of pills. Jeremy felt his heart drop, but he didn’t pay it any mind at first - he was sure Michael would’ve just left the party silently and sulked home. When he saw the boy in question - his best friend of twelve fucking years, laying on the ground and convulsing, he felt his heart shatter in his chest. “MICHAEL!!!” He screamed, running over to the shaking boy and weakly grabbing him. He propped his body up on his legs, completely unsure what to do while someone was having a seizure. He cradled his head, whispering soft comforts to him as he waited for the ambulance to get there. Everything seemed to be going in slow motion. “Don’t worry,” he sobbed into Michaels hair, holding it tightly in his hands. “Fuck, Michael, I’m so sorry. When you wake up - fuck you, you’re GOING to wake up - I’m going to apologize, and let you know how fucking MUCH you mean to me. Fuck, fuck. I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry.” He rocked back and forth, holding the other tightly and murmuring, more for his own sake than his friends. The ambulance arrived, took Michael away, and left. Jenna offered to drive Jeremy behind them, and he took it in a heartbeat, willing to do anything to be with Michael right now. They got to the hospital only a few minutes after Michael, but the boy had already been rushed into surgery to get his stomach pumped. That left them waiting in the waiting room for what felt like days upon days, but in reality was roughly 3 hours. Jeremy couldn’t settle down, no matter how hard he tried. He paced the room, wringing his hands and shooting his head up whenever a nurse came out to announce a name. Whenever it wasn’t Michael, he would lower it slowly, and continue to pace. At no point did Michaels parents show up, despite the fact they were contacted right away and asked to get there as quickly as possible. The knowledge that his parents felt it more important to be off wherever they were on a business trip than to come be with their hospitalized, suicidal son filled Jeremy with unbridled rage - but he would solve that later. For now, the only thing he cared about was in an operating room. Finally, a nurse came over, smiling a smile at Jeremy that made him almost feel happy. “Michael Mell?” She called, Jeremy rushing over to her as fast as he could. Jenna followed along - she promised Jeremy she would stay with him. Jake had also arrived, since it was his house and he felt particularly bad, despite the fact he did nothing to instigate it. The rest of the teens had gone home to deal with the sights they had seen, but sent their best wishes to Michael getting better. “First of all, he’s alive.” The nurse started, and Jeremy nearly collapsed with relief. He felt tears brimming up in his eyes, but he couldn’t cry just yet - not until he knew Michael was alright alright. Being alive did not equal being okay. “Second of all, you guys were EXTREMELY lucky in the fact that i don’t think he had any long lasting damage. He smashed his head a couple of times, so he has a significant concussion. Other than that, he has a few bruises, and his stomach will be extremely upset for the next few days. Most people who have seizures from overdosing on adderall - well, they don’t survive. Of those who do, they have spinal issues that haunt them for the rest of their lives, injuries from falling into things and permanent brain damage. I cannot stress how lucky he is that he did not have any of these issues.”Jeremy started crying. He couldn’t help it - the words filled him from head to toe with relief. Sobs left him, despite the squip - who had been screaming at him the entire time to stop wasting his time in here - yelling at him to stop being such a pussy. He held his hands over his eyes as he hiccuped, pure relief flooding through him. “Okay…” he muttered out weakly. “He’s gonna be okay…” “He is.” The nurse patted his arm gently, smiling softly at the boy. “He’s going to be completely fine. Now, he’s awake, but barely. You can come in to visit him, but we request there only be one person - he’s still a bit out of it and we don’t want him feeling stressed or overwhelmed.”Immediately, Jake and Jenna stood back, looking at Jeremy. That was good, Jeremy thought in the back of his head - if anyone had tried to go in instead of him, he would’ve fought them. “I’m going.” He murmured, and the nurse turned to lead him. The second she opened the door to the small hospital room, he ran forward. Michael was awake - but barely, head rolling to the side and eyes lidded as he struggled to stay awake. Jeremy fell to his knees next to the bed, grabbing and holding Michaels hand tightly. “I’m so sorry-” he started immediately, but to his surprise, Michael cut him off. “Don’t be…” he muttered, a loopy and sad giggle leaving him. “It’s okay. I’m not mad. It was…I was…stupid.” He shifted in the bed, obviously uncomfortable but trying to hide it. “No. No, it’s okay.” Jeremy rushed, tilting Michaels head up so he was looking into his eyes. “I don’t blame you at all. Please, just - my god, Michael, never do that again, I’m begging you. That was so fucking terrifying, and I didn’t mean a fucking word I said, and I was so SCARED that you were going to die actually thinking I hated you because that’s literally the opposite of the truth I love you and-”He came to an abrupt stop, realizing what he had just said and slapping a hand over his mouth. “w…What…?” Michael slowly stuttered out, eyes widened as his brain rushed to keep up with what he had just heard. “Y…You what…?”“I’m sorry.” Jeremy said immediately, waving his hands. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that - you just woke up from a surgery and you’re out of it and that’s SO not something to put on you right now and-”Jeremy was cut off by the lips pressed against his. He let out a loud squeak, entire body going rigid before he slowly sunk into it. He subconsciously wrapped his arm around Michaels shoulders and pulled him closer, making sure not to hurt him in the process. “O…Oh…” he murmured once they pulled away, eyes wide as he stared his best friends. He found the others hand, squeezing it tightly and taking a deep breath as he tried to formulate what he was going to say. “O…Okay. Let’s..”“I love you too.” Michael murmured, moving forward to bury his head against the others neck. “And the lights in here are way too fucking bright. I want them off.” Jeremy’s cheeks burned a bright red, but he couldn’t help but giggle at the words. “I’ll see what the nurse can do.” He whispered, intertwining his fingers in the others hair. He dropped another kiss on his head, closing his eyes and just focusing on Michaels presence. His breathing, his shifting, the rise and falling of his shoulders - his everything. Things weren’t fixed, by any means. Jeremy still had the squip, and Michael still had mental issues that, added to everything, were really the things that drove him to a suicide attempt. Things weren’t pretty, and they sure as hell wouldn’t be easy.

Jeremy was still terrified, but he thought that as long as they could stay like this, nothing would be able to hurt Michael ever again.

[kidsviral-blog]

I'm Mending My Broken Relationship With Food

New Post has been published on https://kidsviral.info/im-mending-my-broken-relationship-with-food/

I'm Mending My Broken Relationship With Food

After a lifetime struggling with disordered eating, I’m still figuring out how to have a healthy relationship with my body and what I feed it.

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Justine Zwiebel / BuzzFeed

It’s a late night in winter, and I am standing over my gas stove heating a metal spoon. I hold the handle gently in my fingers, carefully rotating the bowl over the tips of the indigo flames as the pale yellow pat of Smart Balance butter inside begins to liquefy. The sleeves of my oversized sweatshirt graze the middle of my palms and I step on the hem of my baggy sweatpants as, slowly, I pull the spoon away. A tiny drop of hot liquid falls on my toes as I tip its contents over the edge of a plain white bowl filled with sugar. I add flour, some milk, a few drops of vanilla, and a handful of chocolate chips. I stir. I taste.

I take the bowl to the couch, balance it precariously on the edge, and lie down on my side, my fingers the only utensil, pinching stray sugary flecks off the velvet dark gray fabric as The Real Housewives of New Jersey blares on the TV. It’s been nearly three years since a therapist told me I’m a disordered eater. Yet, after one personal trainer, over two years of therapy, three juice cleanses, four gym memberships, 20 pounds lost, 30 pounds gained back, and thousands of dollars spent on healthy groceries and high-end cookware, I am 24 years old and spending another night, like so many nights before, eating a bowl of last-minute, mediocre cookie dough alone in my apartment at 11 p.m. And I hate myself for it.

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Justine Zwiebel / BuzzFeed

I’ve been overweight — or bordering on it — nearly my entire life, at least since my family moved to the U.S. when I was 4. When I was a child, a routine fight between my Hungarian mother and me was over how much I ate for dinner. Propping my elbows on our scratched dining table, I’d watch her petite, pale hands hovering above me, ladling spoon upon spoon of rice on my father’s plate. “NO FAIR, DAD GOT THE BIGGER ONE,” I’d cry out when my own would finally land, unable to grasp why a 5-foot-10-inch, 200-plus-pound Nigerian man would need to eat more than I did. Seconds, for me, were a must. Thirds weren’t unusual.

Growing up in a white, affluent neighborhood in Lubbock, Texas, I was the only Anita in a sea of Amandas, Brittanys, and Tiffanys. I was biracial, brown and round, with a puffy ball of hair that sat squarely banded in the middle in my head. The boys called it a “burnt marshmallow” and “tumor.” Isolated and othered, I began using food as a coping mechanism around middle school, when my parents began letting me walk home (across the street) alone. I’d spend the two hours until my mom got off work by myself. My best friends had “boyfriends” in the way suburban preteens can — notes, stuffed animals, dates at the roller rink on school skate night. I had a gallon of Edy’s chocolate chip waiting in the freezer for me each day.

Eventually, my mom realized I was sneaking food and she started hiding sweets in the kitchen in hopes of curbing my steady weight gain. Instead, I became an expert at climbing on countertops, calculating how much I could eat of something before she would notice, and burying wrappers in the trash. Often, I’d throw away the balanced, nutritious lunches she’d pack me — whole wheat wraps and sandwiches, fruits, veggies, hard-boiled eggs — in favor of pizza and curly fries. “You ate your lunch today, right?” she’d ask cautiously, waiting for the “yes” we both knew was a lie. She was careful not to tie my weight to my worth, but rather reminded me constantly that what I was doing wasn’t healthy. Looking back, I can’t blame her, but at the time I felt betrayed. Though I couldn’t articulate it then, taking those foods away from me was taking away the one thing that made me feel like I wasn’t alone. I was already the chubby black girl; I didn’t want to be the chubby black girl on a diet.

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Justine Zwiebel / BuzzFeed

As I grew older, I prided myself on being good. I volunteered. I got straight A’s. I didn’t drink, smoke, have sex, or do drugs. But I ate.

What had begun as a way of burying my insecurities morphed into a way of self-medicating full-blown depression and anxiety. Food was my salve and my secret. By the time I was a high schooler in Arkansas, where we had moved when I was 14, I was regularly driving through the local Chinese restaurant, eating crab rangoon alone in my car in the parking lot of an abandoned strip mall. Overwhelmed by a laundry list of extracurriculars that I hoped would get me into the “right college” — student council, cheerleading, theatre, National Honor Society, Key Club, jazz, tap, ballet — I ate until I was too full to worry. When I was cast in my senior musical, I ran to my car after last bell and sped up the highway to Sonic to buy Cinnasnacks (think mini-cinnamon rolls, but more gross) and a cherry limeade in the half hour before first rehearsal. I realized what was happening wasn’t normal when I thought more about what I’d eat when I got to my friends’ houses than the time I’d spend with them.

At the time, I tried to figure out what was wrong with me the same way I tried to find solutions to all of my problems as a teen: magazines. Yet, in article upon article, all I saw were stock images of thin white girls with whom I seemed to have nothing in common. I was obviously not anorexic. I never could throw up after eating, though god knows I tried, so bulimia was out. And while my habits were definitely in line with bingeing, which wasn’t recognized as its own disorder until 2013, I never felt like I ate quite enough to qualify. I had a tendency to buy a lot of things on impulse, take a few bites, then throw them away. I once read somewhere that Lindsay Lohan poured water on her food after she was full so she’d stop eating; I’d subsequently watched many half-eaten tubs of ice cream swirl down the drain.

I hoped going to my dream college would somehow absolve me of my lack of self-worth and, with that, my eating habits. Instead, I spent much of my freshman and sophomore years at Brown feeling like a fraud and making full use of my unlimited meal plan by stuffing to-go containers and eating alone in my dorm room.

Eventually, I began seeing a therapist, who diagnosed me with dysthymia — a low-grade, chronic form of depression — and generalized anxiety disorder. I also began seeing a personal trainer. By senior year, my body finally felt like it fit my 5-foot-2-inch frame. I spoke in class like what I had to say actually mattered. Instead of ruminating alone and in doubt, I opened up to friends and socialized. I went on spring break in Florida and took pictures in a bikini for the first time ever. I felt more in control of my life than I ever thought I could. I was finally, finally, happy.

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Justine Zwiebel / BuzzFeed

But, despite my progress, there was one hurdle for which I couldn’t shake my anxiety: finding a job. An aspiring journalist, I had carefully checked off all the necessary boxes — writing courses, writing and editing for campus publications, three internships — but was terrified of rejection. So instead, I joined Teach for America after graduating in 2012, rationalizing it as a necessary experience to one day write about social justice issues. After a few months teaching third grade at a charter school north of Providence, I was miserable. Inexperienced and ill-equipped to handle the needs of my students, I began yo-yoing between jars of baby food that I’d eat as meals and cartons of Chinese food and quickly gained back half the weight I’d previously lost.

So, I finally sought out a second therapist who specialized in weight and body issues.

“The only reason you felt happy your senior year is because you were thin,” she told me during one of our first sessions. It was then when I learned the name for what I’d been struggling with my entire life: disordered eating, in my case chronic enough that it was periodically a full-blown, though unspecified, eating disorder (the distinction between the two is the frequency and severity of patterns). My therapist coaxed me to recognize how my entire identity and self-esteem seemed dependent on what was on my plate at any given moment. She pointed out that even when I had felt my best, I was undercounting calories, considering a couple dozen spears of asparagus or a couple of eggs to be adequate dinners, despite running regular 5Ks at the time. Instead of becoming healthier during college, I had swung from one extreme to the other. Now I was bouncing back and forth between the two.

Yet, as thankful as I was to have a more concrete understanding of what was going on with me, I rejected her theory. After all, I thought, much more had changed that year than just my weight and diet. The real problem was my job. The real problem was Rhode Island. So, I quit and I left. And, like a bad movie on loop, within a few months in New York I was juice cleansing and takeout bingeing, with a job at a fashion magazine where I was thankful for a cubicle so that that no one could see me inhale the finest Midtown’s hot buffet delis had to offer. Then, for a host of reasons, I quit that job after half a year and spent my “funemployment” obsessively looking for another one, watching all of Breaking Bad, and ordering Seamless at midnight.

Pause. Play. Rewind. Repeat.

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Justine Zwiebel / BuzzFeed

I’m now nearing the end of my second year in New York, and by and large my life has begun to stabilize. I’ve moved out of a claustrophobic apartment I shared with roommates when I first got to the city into one of my own, and have both a job and a boyfriend I love. I cook more and, overall, eat much better, often Instagramming the meals I’m most proud to have made.

And yet — two weekends ago, I visited my parents in Arkansas, and it went badly: My boyfriend and I were fighting, the flights were changed because of bad weather. Exhausted, I spent much of my airport layover on the way back to NYC agonizing over what to eat, wanting nothing more than to drown myself in a combo plate at the King Wah Express, yet ultimately settling on a sensible salad from the glaringly obvious sensible salad place (“green to greens…” “earth fresh…”). The canned salmon was too pale, the dressing too much like something out of a Kraft bottle, and I was too aware of being the overweight woman eating a salad. I pushed it over to the side and grabbed my wallet. After another lap around the food court, I was back in front of King Wah Express.

“How much is just a side of lo mein?” I asked the woman behind the counter.

“$4.99.”

It wasn’t a lot, but I was frustrated that I’d already spent $13 on something that was going in the trash. I changed course.

“I’ll take two crab rangoon, please.”

I sat back down and ate them my usual way: crispy corners first, then soft, squishy middle full of filling. As I dribbled duck sauce out of individual packets and wiped grease off my fingers, I wondered, like so many times before, if my eating habits will — can — ever really sustainably change. I pulled up the waistband of my leggings, aware of the strings already unraveling at the seams in the thigh and that I’d just bought them a little over a month ago. Packing for this trip was easy; I am at the heaviest I’ve ever been and most of my clothes didn’t fit anyway.

The last time I ate crab rangoon, it was 2013 and I was still living in Rhode Island. After failing to go to the YMCA that was across the street from my apartment, I had purchased a membership at a discount gym in a small town 10 minutes away because, somehow, that seemed like a better motivator than a building I could literally stare at out of my bedroom window. I can count the number of times I went to that gym on two hands and have few memories of it, but I do remember the Chinese buffet that was in the shopping center next door. I went to it twice: one time to eat inside, in a pleather booth near a couple and their annoying kids, the other to eat takeout, in a red plastic Ikea chair in my kitchen.

I can’t believe I am fucking here. Again. I thought, as I thumbed crumbs off the airport table.

But that was two weeks ago.

I’ve come to realize I eat the same way I hit my snooze button every morning: just a little bit more. Tired when I should feel energized, so empty despite being so full. Food is still the first thing I think about when I wake up and the last thing I think about before I go to bed. I still spend much of my time trying to hide just how much I eat it. After nine months in my own place, I’ve yet to buy my own microwave, hoping the lack of ease with which I can heat things will keep me from eating myself out of control. I’ve also yet to find a therapist in the city, an endeavor I’ve embarked on most weeks since I moved here and feel wholly overwhelmed by. However, I’m slowly, finally, acknowledging that my disordered eating — though inextricably intertwined with other issues — is also its own source of unhappiness, rather than a symptom of it.

And now I’m trying a new routine. Today was my fourth day starting my morning curled on my couch, sipping a cup of tea before I reach for the handle of the fridge. Before I leave my apartment, I pack lunch — a proper serving of “pad thai” made with spaghetti squash and shrimp, which I relished making earlier in the week, plus blueberries — in a plastic teal bento box with dorky handles. I feel equal parts embarrassed and ecstatic about carrying it on the subway and into my office, mindful of what my co-workers might think of such a marked departure from the spread of constant, countless snacks I’ve carted to my desk, but knowing after I’ve finished what’s inside, I’ll feel better somehow. This time, I won’t throw it away.

Resources

If you or someone you know is struggling with an eating disorder, here are some organizations that have trained support staff available by phone:

National Association of Anorexia Nervosa and Associated Disorders Helpline: 1-630-577-1330

Binge Eating Disorder Association Helpline: 1-855-855-BEDA

National Eating Disorder Association Helpline: 1-800-931-2237

Read more: http://www.buzzfeed.com/anitabadejo/confessions-of-a-disordered-eater