#hate it hereeeee (body)

[bookskittychad]

Realizing you can't know everything no matter how much you try, you can't learn every language, can't play every instrument, can't know every subject, can't know every point in history, you can't travel everywhere........ It's so fucked up, I'm one human and there's too much to learn.

[wheredidalltheusersgo]

The guy sitting next to me on the bus was manspreading and getting his body heat all over my legs kill me NOWWWWWW

[monsterbisexual]

feeling like im being driven to my execution (its a drs appointment)

[kowaibunny]

WHO THE FUCK DONATED THEIR CUCK HENTAI TO MY VISITING NURSES

[verricherri]

Ashes and After

Chapter 4: Break Me Again (NSFW///MDNI)

A/N: HIIII the next part is hereeeee 🍒 and uhhh… there’s only a couple chapters left, i think 👀 Warnings: don’t hate me for this. i mean it. Masterlist Feedback and reposts are appreciated ☀️

You hadn’t planned on stepping foot back on Abbott land again.

Not after the letter.

Not after the silence that followed it.

Not after driving away with every nerve in your body screaming don’t look back.

But then Royal called.

He didn’t start with pleasantries.

“Fence line’s gone down on the south ridge. I need someone I can trust to fix it.”

You almost said no. Almost reminded him there were a dozen hands on the ranch, none of them yours anymore.

But his voice had been quieter than you remembered, and when he added, “I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t mean it,” you knew it wasn’t really about the fence.

So you said yes.

Not for him.

Not for Rhett.

For the land.

Because even after everything — the heartbreak, the silence, the kind of absence that never really leaves — you remembered how this place breathed. How the dirt softened after rain. How the wind along the ridge whispered in a language your bones still spoke fluently.

Some things don’t unroot just because you will them to.

—

You didn’t ask who else was working the fence.

You didn’t need to.

You saw him before you even stepped out of your truck — Rhett, leaned against the back of the four-wheeler, shirt clinging to him from sweat, jaw clenched, the posture of a man barely containing whatever storm was churning inside him. A coil of barbed wire sat at his feet, gloves shoved in his back pocket, his head tipped forward like gravity had grown heavier around him.

He looked up once.

Didn’t wave.

Didn’t nod.

Didn’t speak.

Neither did you.

You just grabbed your gloves and walked toward the fence line like it hadn’t already cut you once and left the scar to prove it.

—

The work was hot and slow, the kind of punishing task that gave your hands something to do even when your heart was too loud. Every nail took more effort than it should’ve. Every tension rod pulled taut like it was echoing something inside you that had long since snapped.

You worked in silence, the distance between you both too far and too close, until his voice broke through the dust.

“Dad didn’t say you were coming.” You didn’t look up. Just muttered, “He didn’t say you’d be here either.”

A scoff. Sharp. Familiar.

“Of course he didn’t.”

You moved to the next post, ignoring how the barbed wire bit into your gloves.

Then came the punch.

Low. Unprovoked. Meant to sting.

“You always were good at showing up late.”

You froze.

Turned.

“What did you say?” He looked straight at you now, his gaze steady and loaded. “Three years late. Give or take.”

You dropped the hammer. The metal clanged against the post.

“Are we doing this now?” you asked. “I’m not doing anything.” “Right. That’s your specialty.” His jaw tensed. “You’re the one who left.” “And you’re the one who made staying impossible.” “You didn’t even try.” “You didn’t ask me to.”

The heat between you cracked like lightning against dry land.

“You think I didn’t want to?” Rhett hissed. “You think I didn’t watch that goddamn driveway every night like a fool?”

Your chest tightened.

“You think I didn’t want to stay?” you said, your voice shaking. “I did. But I couldn’t — not like that. Not with the silence, the lies, the blood I couldn’t scrub from my hands.” He stepped forward, eyes flashing. “And what the fuck does that mean?” “It means loving you wasn’t safe anymore.”

That landed harder than you meant it to — his shoulders dropped like the wind had been knocked out of him.

But you weren’t done.

“I begged for a reason to stay. Prayed for it. But all I got was quiet nights and too many secrets. And the look you gave me that night — like I was a ghost long before I ever left.”

He opened his mouth, then closed it again.

You didn’t let him off the hook.

“You don’t get to be mad I disappeared,” you said, “when you were the one who made me invisible.”

The silence between you felt like a wound, and neither of you moved.

Then, so quietly it almost didn’t land—

“I still dream about you.” You blinked. “What?” He stepped closer. “I dream about you. And I hate waking up.”

Something inside you cracked, and you — always the one to step into pain instead of away from it — crossed the distance between you, shoved him back against the fence post, and kissed him like it still meant something.

His breath hitched.

His hands hesitated, then gripped your waist like he was afraid to let go again.

But you pulled away.

“No,” you whispered. “Not like that. Not unless you mean it.” His lips grazed your neck. “I mean all of it.”

You undid his belt slowly. Deliberately.

“Then prove it.”

You didn’t shed all your clothes. Just enough. Kept the rest on like armor.

Turned around.

Braced yourself against the fence post. Looked back.

“If you’re gonna take it,” you said, “then take it.”

He lined himself up. Pushed in slow.

Not rushed.

Just burn.

You gasped, your hands gripping the wood like it could ground you in a moment that already felt too much.

He thrust — once, then again — deeper, harder, like the ache between you might be undone this way.

His voice caught in his throat. “You feel the same.” You bit your lip. “You don’t.”

He pulled you closer, wrapped his arm around your waist, moved in rhythm like maybe — just maybe — fucking could be a form of forgiveness.

But the truth? It never is.

You broke first.

Your mouth opened on a silent sob.

And when you came, it was with his name on your tongue like a prayer you didn’t believe in anymore.

He finished with a groan, forehead on your shoulder, breath hot and uneven.

You stayed there. Bodies still touching, but hearts a mile apart.

Then you pulled away.

Fixed your jeans.

He adjusted his belt.

Didn’t speak.

Didn’t look at you.

Just grabbed the wire spool and walked back toward the truck, like the moment hadn’t just shattered you both from the inside out.

—

The wire buzzed in your ears long after.

You stood there, trembling fingers laced with dust and memory, until the sun dipped lower and the cicadas started singing.

Eventually, you made it back to your truck. He was already gone. Of course he was.

But part of you still noticed how the tools were cleaned and stacked, how the leftover nails were put away, how he hadn’t left a single mess behind.

And somehow, that hurt more than if he had.

—

That night, Rhett sat on the edge of the pasture, a beer in one hand, blood on his knuckles from punching a post that didn’t deserve it.

He didn’t cry.

Didn’t yell.

Just stared at the dirt, trying to remember how to breathe.

Because when you told him he didn’t get to be mad — he realized, for the first time in his life, that he wasn’t.

He was just heartbroken.

Still.

—

Summer, two years before

You sat on the porch swing, Rhett’s head in your lap, his fingers lazily tracing your thigh.

The world was still and slow and soft.

“If I ever lost you,” he whispered, barely audible, “I wouldn’t be able to stop looking.” You kissed the crown of his head and smiled. “Then don’t lose me.”

—

Back in the present, that same porch swing creaked in the breeze.

But you weren’t in it.

Rhett sat alone on the step, elbows on his knees, hands in his hair, guilt a living thing in his chest.

Because you let him touch you.

Let him have you.

And he still hadn’t asked what you gave up for him. Still didn’t know what you lost. Still didn’t know what it cost you to stay.

But now — now he wanted to.

And that terrified him more than anything else.

PREVIOUS///NEXT

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[vividiana]

chapter 1

pairing: Astarion x f!Durge · word count: 4.3k

rating: M for now, eventually E (18+)

tags: modern AU, witness protection, strangers to friends to lovers (see AO3 for a more exhaustive list)

summary: It’s been over a year since Eve had to uproot her life and assume a new identity—anything to distance herself from the past she wishes she could forget. When an erratic, if oddly charming, newcomer stumbles into her place of work, she recognizes something familiar within him and the two can’t seem to stay away from each other. But Eve is not the only one running from her past. An alternative, modern take on the Dark Urge x Astarion romance, filled with friendship, secrets, healing, and ABBA.

a/n: IT'S HEREEEEE 📣 a huge thank you to everyone who hyped me up as I was working on this, you guys are the best 🫂❤️

the title is from "Like Real People Do" by our lord and savior Hozier

read on AO3 · dividers

Eve grips the edge of the sink, knuckles white as she tries to ease her breathing.

Only one more hour. One hour and she gets to go home.

Her shift started, rather unfortunately, with a birthday party: pushing together four tables, trying to keep up with the customers who constantly changed their mind about the order and deliberated endlessly on who’s paying for what and with what card, all the while their children were screaming for attention. But even worse was the mess they left, along with the few spare coins they tossed on the table as an afterthought, which somehow made her angrier than if they hadn’t tipped at all.

And then it was back to the usual, mundane torments of her job, the worst of which were the never ending comments that made her scream internally when the most she could do was a polite nod. She thought she would get used to them by now, but alas, the hundredth one was just as insufferable as the first. They were delivered by all kinds of people in a variety of tones, ranging from patronizing to objectifying to just plain stupid. They fueled countless rants that Eve’s roommate patiently listened to before noting that perhaps she should look for a job that doesn’t fill her with rage every single day.

The customers’ words echo in her mind on a loop, like a twisted Greatest Hits compilation.

“Why is a young girl like you slaving away in a place like this? Did you plan to be a waitress?”

“Why would you cover up that pretty neck with a tattoo? Don’t you know what it will look like when you’re older?”

“I’m surprised your boyfriend is okay with you working this late. I wouldn’t be, that’s for sure.”

“Does it cost extra for you to smile?” 

Managing to tear her thoughts away from this pity party, she looks up, wincing when she sees her reflection in the chipped mirror. The ponytails she hates but that, without fail and for reasons she doesn’t want to entertain for too long, make people tip her more. The makeup, just enough to conceal her dark circles and soften the edges of the scar running down her cheek, but of course not enough for people to notice she is wearing any, lest they think she’s trying too hard. 

And finally, the dragonfly tattoo lining her throat. The artist did a great job with the cover-up, but despite the quality of the craft, all Eve sees when she looks at it is the dagger concealed within the insect’s body, the ever present reminder that no matter how far she runs, or how much she tries to conceal it, her past will forever be carved into her skin.

She takes another deep breath, counting seconds as she inhales, holds, then exhales—one of the only useful skills she’s gained from her series of short-lived flings with therapy.

One more hour. I can do this.

Eve fixes her crooked name tag and heads out the door. She makes her way through the backroom into the kitchen, and perhaps the smell of grease would assault her senses were it not already embedded into her skin, hair, and clothes. 

On the center counter, she spots a tray with a ticket for booth four. Yes, booth four she can do. It’s largely unproblematic, if a little strange. She grabs it and heads out the kitchen, past the main room to a smaller side one with the bar, a couple smaller tables, and a line of booths. 

As she enters, she spots a man sitting by the bar, looking a bit lost. His hair is bleached so light it’s basically white. He’s wearing a t-shirt with a patterned sweater vest over it that’s a couple sizes too big and way too warm for May. He’s hunched over the bar counter, pen in hand, working fervently on something or other. 

She passes the newcomer and makes her way to booth four, featuring her favorite regular: an older man, wrinkled beyond belief, who arrives at 4 p.m. every single day. He always comes alone and without fail, orders the same exact thing every time: a plate of chicken tenders and a Dr. Pepper. No sauce, no sides. Just the chicken and the beverage. Eve stopped bothering to take his order months ago.

“Good afternoon, Sir,” she says, placing the plate in front of him. She opens the soda can and starts pouring it into his glass. “How are you doing today?”

“Fate spins along as it should,” he says in that trademark monotone voice.

“Mhm,” she hums, trying to think of a way to stall, so she doesn’t have to return to her other customers. “Did you hear there is going to be a thunderstorm tonight?”

“That may be so.”

“Right. Well, enjoy your meal then.”

“Thank you.” 

She scans the room, but seeing no one who looks like they need help, she fishes out the notepad from her apron and makes her way behind the bar.

The white-haired man doesn’t look up when she stands before him, seemingly lost in thought as he scribbles something in a journal in sweeping, messy handwriting. Through the scent of stale beer and fried food, she singles out a hint of his cologne—citrusy, fresh, and far more pleasant than anything the men frequenting this establishment usually wear, if they even bother.

“Hello, my name is Eve–”

He startles at the sound of her voice. There is a trace of panic in his eyes as he looks up at her, one that he instantly tries to cover up by straightening in his seat and donning a forced smile.

The moment their eyes meet, Eve gets the strangest feeling of déjà vu she’s ever experienced. There is something familiar in the creases of his smile lines, in the way his hair curls around his ears. It catches her off-guard, the rehearsed introduction dying in her throat mid-sentence. 

“I’m sorry, do I know you from somewhere?” she asks instead. 

The man instantly tenses up with a loud scoff. 

“Of course you would know me from somewhere. What else did I expect?” He gestures animatedly as he speaks, Eve blinking in confusion as she listens to his rant. “Are you one of those true crime freaks? Do you want an autograph or are you content with just standing here and gawking?”

Great. Just great. 

Exactly what she needed to top off this hell of a shift: entertaining a man’s delusions of self-importance. The True Crime Celebrity has to go into this month’s top three, along with The Alien Abductee and Mr. FBI-Poisoned-My-Cows. At least those guys were more polite.

“You move halfway across the country to finally get a break for once and– Fucking hell!”

He drops his fountain pen on the counter with a loud thud and slips his glasses off to massage his temples, eyes shut tight in frustration. A couple patrons turn their heads to glance their way, Eve’s cheeks growing hotter at the sudden attention.

And perhaps, after seven hours of being on edge, that was simply the last straw.

“Do not raise your voice at me,” the words escape her lips before Eve can think better of it.

The man seems genuinely taken aback and he opens his eyes, brows furrowed when he asks:

“Excuse me?”

“You seem to think you’re some sort of big deal. Sorry to burst your bubble, but I have no idea what you’re talking about. And no matter who you are, you shouldn’t speak to people that way, but especially not to those who handle your food and drinks.”

She didn’t mean it to sound like a threat, but she has no emotional energy left to dull the edge of her words. 

Maybe getting fired wouldn’t be so bad. Then I’ll never have to come back here.

For a moment he just looks at her wide-eyed, opening and closing his mouth a couple times. Eventually he clears his throat and puts his glasses back on, sounding genuinely embarrassed when he admits:

“You’re right, I’m sorry. It’s just– It’s been a long day. But still, that’s no reason to– I’m sorry.”

The anger pent-up in her body starts to dissipate at his tone. He sounds… tired. In a way she recognizes all too well.

“It’s been a long day for me, too,” she says. “Maybe we can try again.” 

She turns away and takes a couple steps along the bar, then returns with a polite smile on her face to say:

“Hello, my name is Eve, I’ll be taking care of you today. Can I get you started with something to drink?”

He chuckles softly and now that his face is more relaxed, Eve can’t help but think that he is quite handsome, in a manner that feels utterly out of place.

“Well, that depends,” he says. “Do the drinks come with spit or poison?”

“You’ve apologized, so neither. But you’re on thin ice.”

He scoffs, but there is no real edge to it. He watches her intently, a hint of curiosity in his gaze that she is not sure what to make of.

“So, do you need more time?” she asks after a moment.

“Time for what?” he asks, stumped.

“To order. Do you know what you want to order?”

Suddenly, as if a prompter whispered his lines to him, he remembers they’re in a restaurant of all places, and he is, in fact, playing the role of the customer.

“Ah, yes. Food,” he says, gaze falling upon the empty bar counter before him.

Eve sighs and retrieves one of the folded menus from a holder to her right.

“Is this your first time?” she asks, handing the paper to him.

“First time here?”

“First time in a restaurant.”

“Let’s say it is,” he chuckles, grabbing the menu from her. “What then?”

“Well,” she starts, leaning forward to rest her elbows on the counter. It’s a tad sticky, but she chooses to ignore that unfortunate detail. After all, the more time she spends with this fumbling, if oddly charming, idiot, the less she has to deal with the other, less-than-savory regulars. She unfolds the menu, trying to sound as patient as she can when she says:

“Here is the list of foods, here are the prices. Here, for some unknown reason, are the calorie counts, which I suggest you ignore, for the sake of your sanity.”

“Hm,” he hums thoughtfully, eyes gliding down the list. He looks up, a curious glint in his eyes when he asks: “So, what do you recommend?”

She doesn’t have a response at the ready, mostly because no one ever asks her that. Nothing, she wants to say, but with the final remnants of self-control, she dons her best service-industry smile, the one that says: I love my job and I haven’t been dying to go home.

“Well, that depends: how hungry are you?”

“Not terribly.”

She flips the menu over to their All-day Lunch selection.

“The club sandwich is a crowd favorite.”

“Alright. But what is your favorite?”

Eve looks up to meet his eyes, their greyish blue alight with amusement, and she can feel the edge of her lips tugging up into a disbelieving smile. She finds no hint of mockery in his tone, just sheer curiosity. He seems to genuinely care about her opinion, which is a rarity in this place.

“The grilled chicken panini is not half-bad,” she whispers, like she is revealing some meticulously guarded secret. 

“I’ll have that, then.”

“Got it,” she says, standing up straight. “And to drink?”

“Surprise me.”

“I can’t put a surprise on your tab. You do actually need to pick something.”

“Do you have diet cherry coke?”

Eve summons all of her mental strength to not roll her eyes at him.

“We have diet, non-cherry pepsi. Is that okay?”

“It’s a travesty, more like. But I’ll make do.”

“Great. One sec.”

She scoops some ice into a glass, then retrieves the pepsi from a small fridge under the bar. As she starts pouring it into his glass, she asks:

“So, are you visiting someone, or just passing through?”

“I actually just moved here a couple days ago,”

“Oh.” It’s not often that they see a new face around here. And certainly not one this good-looking. “In that case: welcome.”

“Thank you. I suppose I wanted to get to know the town a little more. Check out the…” his gaze wanders around the room, the flickering Coors Light neon signs, the truckers belly-laughing at one joke or another, “…local scene.”

“And how do you like it so far?”

“Well, so far you’re the only person in this place I’ve managed to have a half-decent conversation with. So yes, I suppose it’s alright.”

“Half-decent? You wound me.”

He smiles, but before he gets a chance to respond, Eve hears someone snap their fingers at her like they’re in a fucking Tarantino movie. She’s surprised they didn’t yell garçon!

“I’ll be back with the panini,” she says, and however, reluctantly, pries herself off the bar counter to attend to the obnoxious client at booth one.

The pace picks up, as it always seems to do when she is almost done with her shift. When she brings him the food, they exchange a couple more amusing if largely meaningless comments, before she has to go tend to her other customers. 

Eventually the man asks for the check and pays with cash. By the time Eve comes to collect it from him, he’s gone. Opening the tab, she sees two $20 bills and for a moment she’s convinced it must be a mistake, because the total was just over $17.

But then she notices a small ink stain on the thin receipt paper and turns it around to read a note in that same sweeping font: Sorry again for being a dick. Enjoy your weekend.

Eve chuckles softly and pockets the receipt on a whim.

When she’s clocking out 15 minutes later, she hears that grating voice behind her, the one that always manages to set her on edge.

“I saw you arguing with a customer.”

“That’s odd. I don’t recall doing that,” she says, not looking away from the keypad.

“You know damn well who I’m talking about. The one with the glasses, dressed funny.”

Eve sighs and turns around to meet the man’s eyes. He’s a couple inches shorter than her, a fact he tries to make up for by puffing out his chest and glaring at her in a way that is presumably supposed to be intimidating. It’s funny, she thinks, how much of a power trip he gets from being a manager at a run-down place like this. She wonders sometimes what must be going on in his personal life that he’s trying to make up for.

“Oh, him!” she says with a forced cheeriness. “Well, he actually seemed quite pleased with the service, he left me a very generous tip. Did you hear any complaints? You know I would hate to leave a bad impression on a new customer.”

His lips tighten into a firm line as he watches her, and Eve is fully aware he has no arguments left. After a moment of tense silence, she nods politely before turning towards the exit.

“See you tomorrow, Wulbren.”

Eve frees her hair from the ponytails and runs her fingers through it the moment she steps outside. The afternoon sun cradles her skin as she crosses the parking lot and makes her way to Gizmo—her trusted 2012 Toyota Prius that has seen better days. 

It’s a fairly nondescript car, what with it being a Prius and a bland beige, but she has taken to decorate the inside with some personal touches. The back is adorned with two bumper stickers: one with the logo of her roommate’s youth soccer team, the Clinton Comets, and another that reads: “My other car is a Honda Civic.” It’s a leftover gift from the previous owner that Eve is too amused by to peel off, despite how worn and faded the lettering has become.

She starts the car, turning the radio off immediately—she listens to it enough at work and right now, she just wants to enjoy the silence. As she pulls out of the parking lot, she rolls the windows down to welcome in the fresh air, warmed with the promise of summer. 

It only takes her seven minutes to get to the elementary school. Surprisingly enough, she managed to leave at 5 p.m. sharp, so she still has some time before practice ends. She decides to park in the visitor’s lot and walk towards the pitch.

The shrill whistle reaches her ears, and as she steps up onto the mostly empty bleachers, she takes in the sight of 20-something children running around in navy blue uniforms, Lae’zel standing off to the side as she watches them intently. 

Her thick chestnut hair looks immaculate as always, interspersed with small braids here and there, the upper half pulled into a near-perfect bun. Despite the temperature, she’s wearing a matching cream-and-black Adidas tracksuit, the light fabric bringing out the warm hue of her skin.

Suddenly, there is a commotion as an argument breaks out between two girls. Someone missed a clear shot, or something of that nature—Eve was not paying attention. Others join shortly, the bickering growing incessantly loud.

A whistle cuts through the chatter and Lae’zel waves her hand in a beckoning motion.

“Mol! A word.”

The group immediately falls quiet and from the crowd emerges a short girl with russet brown skin, her hair gathered into a high ponytail. Her expression is sour as she approaches, like she’s ready to argue further.

Lae’zel lowers herself into a squat, her eyes leveled with the girl’s. From her seat, Eve can make out most of their conversation:

“You’re the captain, Mol. You need to act like one. If you don’t have faith in your teammates, then who will?”

The girl’s defiant expression melts into one of embarrassment, her gaze suddenly very focused on the tips of her cleats. 

She mutters something that sounds like: “I’m sorry, Coach.”

“Don’t apologize to me. Apologize to your team,” Lae’zel says, rising to her full height, which, admittedly, is not a lot. “Now, go out there and be a leader. Understood?”

The girl nods decidedly and runs back onto the field as Lae’zel blows the whistle, resuming the game. Eve smiles as she recognizes her gift: a silver whistle with the words #1 Coach engraved on the side. Lae seemed very flustered when she gave it to her, but Eve has never seen her go back to the plastic ones she’d used before.

The game ends 2:1.

Lae’zel makes some closing strategy-related remarks, then reminds the girls about the game next week with the team from a neighboring county.

“And remember that there will be summer practice available all throughout June, and then resuming in August. I’ve emailed the details to your parents. Any questions?”

When none arise, Lae gathers the team in a circle, and on the count of three, they erupt into a group cheer, accompanied by dance moves that look awfully close to the “Head, Shoulders, Knees, and Toes” song.

“UP, DOWN, LEFT, AND RIGHT, CLINTON COMETS WIN THE FIGHT!”

The group disperses, and as the children are gathering their things and getting ready to leave, Lae’zel checks her notes and says:

“Arabella, Yenna, and Ide, I still haven’t gotten those permission slips back. If you don’t want to miss out on the last game of the season, I’ll need them by Wednesday.”

“Yes, Coach Medina,” the three girls in question say in a practiced unison.

The pitch eventually empties out as the children leave, along with some of the parents who were waiting on the bleachers. Lae’zel is gathering the orange plastic cones from the field as Eve makes her way down to help her.

When Lae turns around and meets her eyes, Eve breaks into dance with unparalleled enthusiasm:

“UP, DOWN, LEFT, AND RIGHT, CLINTON COMETS WIN THE FIGHT!”

“Do you have a problem with our battle cry?” Lae’zel asks, trying her best to look unamused.

“No, I love it. It’s adorable and so, so corny.”

“The girls wrote it themselves. I didn’t want to interfere with their creative process. It’s good for team morale and their self-esteem.”

“Of course. You know I would never question your pedagogy.”

They pick up the last of the cones and as they’re heading to Lae’zel’s office, Eve says:

“Oh, you know what I just remembered?”

“What?”

“UP, DOWN, LEFT, AND RIGHT–”

“Keep doing that and I will evict you.”

“Oh, but then who would drive you around?”

“I’ll take my chances with the bus.”

Once they put everything away, they make their way back to the car and head home. 

“Are you doing anything tonight?” Eve asks as she turns onto the main road.

Lae’zel picks up her phone and then directs the screen towards her. 

“Her, if all goes well.”

Eve glances sideways to catch a glimpse of a Hinge profile. Jen, 25, the caption informs her. The girl in the photo sports heavy makeup and short bangs, her hair split down the middle with half-white, half-black dye.

“Pretty.”

But Lae’zel just hums approvingly in lieu of a response.

Before Eve can probe any further, her phone rings, and a message appears on the center screen: Call from: Wyll Ravengard 😎

“Hi Wyll,” she answers. “You’re on speaker. I’m in the car with Lae’zel.”

“Hello Lae’zel,” the man responds in his signature friendly tone. 

“Hello. Don’t worry, I’m not paying attention,” Lae says, not looking up from her phone. 

“She’s not paying attention, she’s busy texting a goth girl on Hinge.”

“Been there. Anyways, Eve, sorry to disturb your Friday evening, I just wanted to confirm that we’re still on for coffee, Monday at 4?”

“I wouldn’t miss it.”

“Perfect. And you remember that I scheduled that… consultation appointment for you at 2 pm that same day?”

Eve sighs softly. Another therapist. Agent Ravengard has been relentless in trying to find a good match for her. She’s pretty sure she’s gone through everyone within a 20-mile radius.

“Yup. I do remember that.”

“Mhm. And do you plan on attending?”

She pauses for a second, and then says, unconvincingly:

“I do.” 

“Lovely. Can’t wait to hear all about it over coffee.”

“Sounds delightful,” she says dryly.

“I’ll text you the details again, just in case. It’s up in Fairview, so about a half hour drive. You should have plenty of time to be back by 4.”

“Okay.”

“Alright then, have a wonderful weekend, Eve, and I’ll see you soon, yes?”

“Yes. I– Thank you, Wyll. I appreciate you.”

“Happy to help. Bye now!

“Bye, have a good one!”

The moment he hangs up, Eve lets out a pained groan. 

“You sound frustrated,” Lae’zel remarks, still typing. And when Eve doesn’t respond, she adds: “Maybe you should sleep with him.”

“With Wyll?!”

“Yes. You are attracted to him, are you not?”

“I suppose I am, a little. I mean, have you seen him? But no, that is either illegal or unethical or both.”

“I don’t see the issue.”

“Well, I do. Plus, not all of life’s problems can be solved with sex, you know?”

“It sounds like you just haven’t had great sex, then.”

“It sounds like you really want to walk home. I can pull over at any moment, just say the word.”

There is a moment of silence before Lae’zel asks:

“In all seriousness though, do you want to talk about it? This appointment of yours?”

“No. That’s the last thing I want to be thinking about right now.”

“Understood.” Lae’zel seems to ponder something, then adds: “I’m meeting her for drinks at 9, so I still have some free time. Do you want to pick up ramen and watch people be idiots on the Game Show Network?”

“Yes, please.”

Lae’zel calls the ramen place on the first floor of their building to put in their usual order. Once they get back to the apartment, she goes to pick up the food while Eve heads to her room to change.

The space is quite bare, especially in comparison to Lae’zel’s room, which is full of photos, trinkets, and memorabilia to remind her of home. Eve doesn’t have any of those, but she still tried to make her room her own, whatever that means. A couple plants line the windowsill, and her shelves are overflowing with books she thrifted: mostly non-fiction, with the occasional Stephen King novel tucked between her usual reads. There are plenty of lights, too: a salt lamp, numerous candles, and a cascade of fairy lights above her bed. Anything to not have to turn on the harsh overhead light. 

Before they sit down to eat, she wants to get rid of that ever-present diner smell. When she pulls her jeans off, a piece of paper flies down onto the wooden floors. She snatches it up, ready to toss it into the trash, when she spots the now familiar, swirly handwriting. 

Eve chuckles, remembering this oddly charming man, looking entirely out of place, who probably had an even worse day than she did, somehow. 

She unfolds the paper fully, straightening out the wrinkles, and heads over to the small desk in the corner of the room. There is a cork board above it with a couple ticket stubs from events she went to with Lae’zel and a few holiday cards from Wyll. It’s the closest she can have to a picture board, ever since she was explicitly instructed to never allow herself to be photographed.

She isn’t sure what propels her to pin the receipt to one of the empty spaces on the board. 

But it fits right in.

a/n: thank you for reading! lmk if you would like to be tagged when I update this, or when I post in general. have a lovely rest of your day/night, whenever you're reading this 💛🧡

taglist: @roguishcat ✨

next chapter · masterlist

[stephaniebrownslover]

Guys I have an idea.

What if I made Jeff The Killer like BoJack Horseman???

Guys don't leave please guysssssss it's so dark hereeeee

Okay now that I think about it, I'll ramble about this a bit.

Either I'm on to something or on something.

Also BH characters as creepypasta characters random BoJack Horseman dialogues as Jeff under the line and how other pastas would react.

And the only Jeff portrait I like is @jeffthekillerzblog 's Jeff because he's like a real life :3

THEIR FIRST TWO LETTER IS SAME THEY'RE THE SAME

...

GUYSSSSSSS TOBY AS TODD JUST IMAGINE

Lol just kidding but I think Toby and Todd would actually get along. Like they would just chill around and build random shit and talk about nonsense stuff. Their silly goofy traits are kinda similar so they would understand each other most of the time. Great minds think alike.

Okay okay let's talk about Jeff Horseman stuff before drifting away the topic.

First of, I think BoJack Horseman is not a character do defend. Yes, he tries to fix his mistakes but it was too late for him. He needed to change before all the shit happened. He needed to go to rehab or therapy before.

I'm not saying it's all his fault but just look at Diane. She had her own trauma and even though she was feeling bad most of the time, she wanted to get better. She worked for it in time instead of BoJack.

Yes, BoJack is a traumatized character but Todd was right about "You can't keep doing shitty thing and then feel bad about it!" because BoJack did this always.

Now back to Jeff. He has a similar trait with BoJack. I think Jeff has BPD most likely and he has serious anger issues. That's not a good mix as you can guess. It causes him to make mistakes and hurt people he actually gives a shit about and even though this makes him feel bad later, he won't do anything about it.

He wants to change, he wants to apologize from Jane and Nina and Liu. He wants to be a better person. He hates this life he build but he's been in this hell so long that he doesn't know a way out. He thinks it's too late for him and for treatment after all the people he killed and hurt.

Just like BoJack but in a different way.

BoJack hurts people close to him mentally and Jeff hurts people close to him both mentally and physically.

They both doesn't want to live their life and they would rather be like anyone else does.

They would hate each other if they met because they would see the other as a mirror. Or something like they could be in an another universe. And this would scare them as hell.

Jeff might be a surface character but I think that's because of his creator portrays him. I have like/hate relationship with him because of how badly he portrayed in almost every work.

He was not a pure evil monster, he was a 13 year old kid with untreated mental issues and body trauma. And no one was there to teach him this was not right since this motherfucker is very stubborn and he killed everyone who could.

Both of them doesn't want to die no matter how shitty their life can became. They want to live. They want to see the next day even though they would hate it. They think they deserve to live after all the things they had gone through.

They want to believe that they have a chance for redemption without caring about their past mistakes.

Also if Jeff would be an animal, he thinks he would be a wolf but he'd actually be a horse. That's like his spirit animal.

Take random BoJack dialogues as Jeff and other pastas' reactions to that.

...

Jeff: Rehab was supposed to be a fresh start. But no matter how many starts I get, there's always the same ending. Everything falls apart, and I end up alone.

Clockwork: Then get a new life man, this shit is not that hard.

Jeff: Shut up bitch! I'm having a moment here!

...

Jeff: Same thing that always happens. You didn't know me. Then you fell in love with me. And now you know me.

Nina: Eat shit and die asshole. You ruined my life.

Jeff: Fucking let me apologize whore!

Nina: Okay. I'm gonna kill this bastard. Don't hold me!

Kate: No one's holding you.

Nina: I said don't hold me!

...

Jeff: I'm the one who has suffered the most because of the actions of Jeffrey Woods.

Jane: What about Liu or Nina or even me?

Jeff: Nah, Liu's fine and he hates you.

Liu: No, I don't.

Jeff: He doesn't know what he's saying. And Nina loooves me.

Nina: No I don't!

Jeff: She's high on my awesomeness.

Jane: Shup the fuck up you dumbass.

...

Jeff: There's gonna be plenty of people around when I kill myself!

Masky: Not me.

Hoodie: Nah, I'll be there to celebrate.

Jeff: I hate all of you.

...

Jeff: Really makes you think, though, huh? Life, right? Goes by, stuff happens. Then you die.

Toby: W-who the hell are you?

Jeff: Yeah, you're right.

Toby: I am?

Jeff: Nah.

Toby: Of cour-se I am.

Who wants part 2 for incorrect quotes??

[boxtens-askblog]

oh god Vox you must be going through a whirlwind right now. um okay breathe, you're in a different body, different mind... but its okay this is temporary... can you describe how you feel?

also hm, wow, Glisten your reflection looks a bit different. not bad! not bad at all just... hm I guess Vox is a bit of a spectre in a mirror right now? (all fun and games till Vox gets tossed to the mirror dimension)

I hate it hereeeee... He keeps teleporting absolutely everywhere, it's so confusing.. and I don't think he knows that I can hear his thoughts. I wanna go home.

Hm, of course it's not bad. I'm never bad, like always. (When is it going to leave, I hate this so much..)

[crimswnred]

LITG TEMPTING FATE: CASA IS HEREEEEE

okayyy!!! i spy with my little eye 3 hotties

maybe it's the best casa we ever had looks wise

and there's liam lmaooo

anyway he's rude so I'm happy he's also ugly

my MC is waiting for her one true love Jin

but I'll replay it later and stick with Jack so I can be with one of the Casa Guys

look at Kyle's legs omg

what have fusebox done to my sweet girl Emel who believed in romance and wanted Oakley to declare poetry??

this is the face of a man who's unreliable 👇

source? bro he's blonde AND has long lashes

Claudia chill I wasn't actually serious when I said I would couple up with you sorry

OMG BEA LIKES WOMEN !!!!!!!!!!!!

anyway chill I'm trying to be loyal here

first day of casa ✅ still not a cheater

ofc they would cut Bea in the middle of what she had to say...

raunchy is always so fun I love kissing boys just for the fun

yeah, I am the funniest, the most travelled and also I'm a dancer, so yeah, I'm the sexiest dancer

and why would anyone think EMEL is the wildest girl? c'mon

these are the eyes of a man who lost his soul 👇

guys never mind he's actually hilarious

what do you mean WE HAVE TO SWITCH?

I don't want to switch? I want my boyfriend back

is it just me or do you guys also want to bite Kyle? just me? ok!!

yadda yadda everyone loves me yadda yadda

Max is literally a child omg

fusebox I fucking hate you

anyway party time!!!!!

which means let me see the outfit for this week

I don't hate it but I also don't love it. the tits are great but the pants could fit better

MCs body is tea

"I had sex in all the continents" followed by this:

lmaooooooo

anyways, there are 6 continents: America, Europe, Asia, Africa, Oceania and Antarctica, I don't know why you guys pretend America is actually two continents like...

as a Brazilian, my girl Claudia would defo point that out. check your facts fusebox

KYLE TATTOED WHO????

AND WHAT DID HE TATTOO????????

jk we don't give a fuck about Gabi, Suresh and s5 mc mess MOVING ON

I just chose Max for my last turn in the game to be messy

stop judging me??

EMEL WE WERE BEST FRIENDS JUST YESTERDAY WHAT'S YOUR DEAL??????

Kyle is so nice <3

oh...

guys I may not be the loyal girl I promised I was

you can't give me a guy with that amount of tats and expect me to not let him touch my thigh ok?

... and share a bed...

... and kiss me.

OKAY OKAY I KISSED HIM ALRIGHT??

but what about it? Jin apparently was saying this girl was a proper head-turner so he can cope

he cheated emotionally, when you think about it that's even worse

and now Emel is moaning Kyle's name

great.

this volume pissed me off. let see what this mess leads me to. gotta say, they keep me entertained

[barokvanziekscumeater69]

to whom it may concern

This is a series of small life updates from stuff ive blogged about on the past. It ranges from my romantic (?) life, work and mental stuff. Also my personal gaming things

The men trademark

The dumb bi sweatpants furry - finally outgrew him after i asked him to kiss me and he said a firm no. i only pushed him because he had some very ambiguous attitudes with me in the past and i thought that he was just being shy. He couldve just been more direct with his rejection that i wouldnt feel the need to chase him (im a bit pathetic, i know, but i wouldnt go the lengths i did if he didnt agree to sleep with me when we went on a date, safe to say he also grabbed me once, and i never really physically touched him, but whatever, im cured now finally, took me a year and a half)

Hot tall ripped model from work that goes to the same college as me - found out his twitter, he is kinda of a psycho and delulu about needing to grow as an actor, he was also using his job to make connections to his side actor career. Also was really shit as his job so i kinda gave up. Saw some mean tweets about everyone and he didnt seem  to take college that seriously

My enby friend that has a rocker edgy vibe that is super sweet with me - found out he is ex non binary, he has a girlfriend but flirted with me in public very explicitly (in front of his gf, who side eyes me and doesnt seem to enjoy my presence that much) and in front of my friends. It isnt something out of my head, everyone says hes attracted to me (not just my best friend that supports my delusions), but i keep in mind he is very monogamous but who knows. Everyone at college hates his guts because of his bad attitude and sarcasm towards everyone. But, whenever i talk to him, he doesnt look me in the eye and seems awkward at some points, but we had some cool conversations about our insecurities and i just like him a lot. Definitely going for him once he dumps her.

Some guy i matched on grindr who showed up at college and made me freeze in public and delete my account out of panic. Still looking for him on social media but i cant find a single clue. Was the person that i flirted with most (we swapped pics and talked very dirty)

Work

My bosses talked about my performance and im pretty good. My fears that i didnt had the skills or wasnt working hard enough are pretty unfounded. But i need to work on my social skills since i seem like a very angry/blunt person but in reality im just focused or dont pick up on social cues. If i had autism it could be easy to justify this but im really past 4 or 5 mental health professionals and they seem pretty keen to explain that im just oblivious since i dont have other key behaviors and symptoms. But hooray for me. Hoping to be signed in as a full time or be recommended to another good company

Mental health

I didnt answer some people who shared their body image issues when i posted some stuff here last time but just wanted to say that i read the two comments i had and they helped me somewhat. Im growing out of hating my body and seeing it for what it is. Its not perfect, but im beginning to like it in its entirety without having to resort to self-pity and its very nice. Im also dressing differently, in another style, bought some new clothes and im feeling a lot more confident. Taking care of myself makes me feel awesome. I know i feel like a overly-excited kid typing this but this is just how i feel

Im finally on anxiety meds…. And i dont feel a single change. Either for good or bad. My mother said i look less grumpy on mornings but thats about it. And it has been more than six weeks, enough for at least one tiny noticeable change, but i need to give this feedback to my psychiatrist

Gaming stuff

MY PC IS HEREEEEE (im typing on it!!!)_

Im finally playing shadow generations (the first steam game i bought on it) and it feels awesome playing stuff at 60 stable fps and near instant load times

Being able to pirate just about everything and run it, is simply perfect

Didnt have the time to play a single sims game yet, wayy too focused on sonic

Bought a pair of legit pokemon b2 and w2 carts for myself for my birthday. Havent gotten around playing them tho

Switch 2 will break my bank. Im considering getting it just to play animal crossing at 1080p 60fps portable and with faster load times (swear im not lying)

Im kinda dead on ace attorney. After playing the entire franchise last year i still need to play the investigations remake (that i can easily pirate on my new pc)

Conclusion

Im doing fine. Really happy to have a fucking computer after so long and i bought it with the fruit of my labor. Also i like my job, its nice to leave it feeling good and satisfied with what ive done. Just need to learn how to talk nicer to people i guess. Also i need to stop being a coward and get laid for once

Thats it thanks bye i love yall. If you want to hear an update about something i forgot pls telll

[neopuppy]

YAY OMG everyone say thank you Jeno for putting neomami in a good mood on a random tuesday!! (I couldn't find the bbl pic anywhere but Im at peace knowing youre at peace) Now I sit and wait patiently..... giving a fly rubbing its hands together waiting for the people who paid for their food to finish it before I'm allowed to pounce on the leftover overs but theyll HIT REGARDLESS I KNOW IT💜🫡

I fr woke up at 6am(as my body clock forces me to everyday as I am a slave to capitalism) and saw an anonymous message abt his deleted bubble and scoffed half asleep like ‘not someone trolling me knowing im abt to freak out like a dog dying of hunger bouncing off the walls drooling everywhere for a sliver of cock.’

but then I opened twt and saw a JN account saying to not repost it bc he deleted it and I shot up in bed like ?????? FOR REALLLLL????? then I typed into the search bar and found nothing except the horny kpop gays talking abt it replying to everyone ‘DM’ 😑🙄 I HATE IT HEREEEEE but thankfully one of u lovely readers had my back🫂

TBH IT WAS WHATEVERRRRR LMAOOO LIKE I FEEL BAD FOR HIM BC I DO BELIEVE JENO IS JUST THAT INNOCENTLY DUMB BUT ALSO…….. I mean hey, if I looked like him, BULGE WOULD BE BULGING!!!!! ALL OF THE FUCKING TIME. but you know, thats just me.

what a crazy way to wake up today. fucked up my desperate need to sleep in today too bc I took a good hour hunting for it😭 like damn…..why’d I delete my bubble subscription😅 THANK YOU LEE JENO💕💖💘💖💕

[mjammies]

HES A GOOD MAN SAVANNAH (the elite ch25-26)

idk why im riding so hard for maxon, but these last two chs had me absolutely gagggeddd. i was really close to throwing my laptop at one moment real shit. anyway ch 25-26

Ch 25 

-okayy america asking for private lessons….boringggg

-”id make a better princess than she would” girl this is not about that

-ofc its a passion project that gets miss red white and blue excited

-they gotta do presentationsss, the way i woulda called it quits, its not worth it my anxiety couldnt do it

-”you could run your presentation by me if you like. Kriss did” eyes wide HUH

-miss thing aint even got an idea yet golly

-”youve seen more hardships in your life than the other four combined” plz maxon i beg. I love a good oppression olympics but not rn, im tireddd

-hes peepingggg that she been acting off

-okay so now apparently its not him its the position. eye roll 

-hes spitting facts, like gurl hes given you all the time, if youre still unsure then its bout time to pack it up

-im gonna kms, GET HER OUTTA HEREEEEEEE, idk why i rather have her than kriss but atp i might be switching sides

-ooooo an ultimatum, juicyyy

-”but youre being a bit careless with my one shot” PERIOD

-”maybe i should leave” and then she tells him he SHOULD??!?!?!?!? GIRL FUCK YOU, wheres my gun, get her OUTTA HEREEEEE

-but i will say he gagged tf outta her when he left, “i’ll just go see what kriss is doing” such a nastyyyyy come back, i love itttt, gon head and see a girl who ACTUALLY wants to see you. 

Ch26 

-here come aspen, alexa play knuck if you buck

-i prayyyy they get caught in this book

-a caste exchange program, really aspen?

-now america fighting with every body, girl whats going on???

-not shes mad that these folks are asking her for commitment

-lollll not gregory out here hoeing folks, maybe i shoulda been reading his diary entries

-oh look america is actually using her brain for once

-so the real villain of this story is gregory illea

-not she going straight to maxon room, period march up there queen

-oh.my.god. Not maxon gottanother girl in the room, the way i woulda thrown up right there in the doorway, i mighta swung on one of the guards too who knows.

-AHHHHHH so apparently hes not in the room okay good

-when did maxon become a blond???? I thought he had light brown hair atleast, or is that considered blonde idkkkkkkkk

-him and celeste is getting itttt, maxon really exploring his optionsssss

-not maxon and miss girl LOCKING EYESSS, im gagged, im screaming, but good on her

-”so stupid, america. So stupid” YUP, YUP. YUP seeeee shes learning 

-waitaminute what is happening now????

-1) she is gonna chose aspen now apparently, 2) maxon is mad and shes mad, but lets see

-shes just mad he was hugged up on celeste, if it was kriss she probably woulda charged it to the game.

-ooo chile, not her telling him she’ll leave and then him saying she aint going no where, like clock it

-WAITAMINUTE the gurls are actually heated, i am all the way sattttt

-she literally shoved him, its getting physical

-im sorry (not sorry) but maxon remaining calm woulda got me acting right real quick.

-”i wanted a reason to hurt him” ummm maam are you okay?

-”but there was no rage in him” oopp, yeahhhh this woulda done it for me, i woulda been begging for forgiveness

-bro is he gonna kiss her??????

-GIRRLLLLLLLLLLLL I LITERALLY CANT BROOO I HATE THIS BITCH SO MUCH LIKE PLEASEEEE, SINCE YOU ON THE BALCONY ALREADY JUST DO US A BIG ONE AND JUMP CAUSE WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU THREW THE BRACELET, I HATE YOUUUUU RGJN;FSKGSAR GKRJGBIRUISEHRVGIKHREWIU

-”i wasnt here to win anymore. So how could i go out with a bang?” ummm how about you BLOW YOURSELF UP is that bang enough for you???!??!?!

[dedskum]

i’m hereeeee!! hi love <3

🧨 DYNAMITE - a random angsty headcanon.

❤️‍🔥 FLAMING HEART - what are their turn-ons / turn-offs?

💙 BLUE HEART - what is / are their love language(s)?

🪞 MIRROR - do they like the person that they are? do they have any regrets?

🎂 BIRTHDAY CAKE - when is their birthday? do they like to celebrate it?

these are for both seid and leone please :33

hurray nene! hi baby <3 let’s see

🧨 DYNAMITE

seid is a very quiet and lowkey person, he doesn’t get upset very easily at all— nor does he like conflict, he’ll just go quiet on you. no argument or nothing but at the very least somewhat of a heated debate, no raising of voice involved at all. on his part at least, but best believe if you get a little too loud with him he’ll ask you to lower your tone, in that deep rhythmic voice he got.

leone is the type of girl who thinks she knows everything, she’s stubborn as fuck and she’ll tell you something like it’s a fact. will sound so sure of herself you’d think she knows what she’s talking about. of course she’s not always wrong, she’s smart like that. although there was this one time where she was just talking shit and was kissed to shut her up. she kinda liked it.

❤️‍🔥 FLAMING HEART

seid is a fan of anything sensually inclined.. such as slow kisses, on the lips, on his neck, without tongue, with it (preferred). he likes to take his time when it comes to sex, foreplay is his favorite part. he also reaally likes body worship, having photographic memory makes it twice as fun. enjoys making a mess too. turnoffs for him is anything that’s rushed into.

leoné is a pleaser. she loves to please and be pleased in return, like a reward. a big turn on for her is watching as someone goes down on her.. disappearing between the gap of her thighs, she really likes being choked too and kissed after. turnoffs for her …? n/a. she’ll try anything once, and there’s much to discover.

💙 BLUE HEART

like i said seid is very quiet, therefore he’s always shown love through ways that don’t require a lot of talking. a big one for him is gift giving, will just paint you something or buy you something random that reminded him of you. funnily enough, he’s good with words due to his creative nature. his mom has a box full of birthday and mother’s day cards engraved with poetry from her youngest son.

leoné has a look. she’s shy in certain aspects of things, especially when it comes to her true feelings. but eyes don’t lie. she’ll look at you with a glimmer in those big brown eyes and you just know. i think that’s a love language in itself, you just gotta pay attention.

🪞MIRROR

seid has never disliked himself. he hates the things he does sometimes. but for the most part he finds comfort in who he is, and what he believes in. but sometimes, he finds himself sometimes regretting not speaking up when he should’ve. or reaching out.

leoné likes herself but she thinks she could like herself a little more. she’s confident about a lot of things, she knows when she looks good. she’s comfortable. her regrets….? so many.

🎂BIRTHDAY CAKE

seid was born on august 24th, 2001 (virgo). he enjoys spending his birthday with his family, doing the whole cake, candles and song. he’s not a big party person.

leoné was born on nov 06th, 2003 (scorpio). on her birthday she likes to ride around the city to different restaurants and get her little freebies, treat herself to nice things whether that be with friends or just by her own.

[easierreadthandone4711]

Shark Week

It’s about that time for my uterus to start torturing me, reminding me that I am not carrying a child inside. I know this, not only because of my calendar but because my emotions just shifted from sad girl to don’t fxckin try me. This usually lasts only a day thankfully, otherwise I’m just a sensitive girly. I think the most embarrassing time was tearing up from a bounty paper towel commercial.. it’s a problem to say the least.

Truly, I think my period serving as a reminder that I’m without child just brings my ass down. I have three babies, two angel babies and I’m still bumming over this monthly reminder? Yes. If there was anything I was certain about, it’s that I am supposed to be a mom. The silly part is getting bummed out as if I’ve even had the sex to make one. 🥲 #sadgirl for life I guess. When am I not a sad girly? When I’m with my babies. Every month, it’s the same thought: do I really wish I were pregnant? Yes. Every. Damn. Month.

I’ll be honest, I’m not even someone who “enjoyed” being pregnant. I didn’t hate it either, however, the hurdles I went through made it difficult to say “I love being pregnant”.

I miscarried the first time I got pregnant, and almost died after having my first. Two blood transfusions were needed, officially putting me in a “high risk” category after an antibody was found. My youngest was the smoothest pregnancy and labor I had. I imagine she’s the reason I’m so confidently ready to keep having babies.

The flutter that turns into kicks is definitely a highlight of all my pregnancies. I would play with my babies while they were in there, a little game of tag if you will. I would tap on different parts of my belly and wait for their response. I spoke to them all the time. Little did they know, they were becoming my best friends. There was never a time I felt alone while I was pregnant, they were as present to me as if they were out of my body already. “Good morningggg” “What are we going to eat?” “You know what you need to try, your grandfathers veal piccata” “Sorry that was so loud, it’ll quiet down again soon” I feel like my hand never left my belly.

When I say I was SAD when they were out of my body… oof. The loneliness I felt. Now I had to share them with this horrible world and this world doesn’t deserve them. The maternal instincts had kicked in when I saw the positive sign on the stick to protect them but it amplified in ways I never imagined. A trip to the grocery store was scarier than it used to be. I can’t trust the drivers around me, everything is filthy, I don’t want them getting sick, every stranger was a potential danger to my baby and it was overwhelming at times. Getting gas? Stepping out of the car with them inside of it, you’d see me making silly faces or waving into the window. “Mommy is still hereeeee - you’re not alone”

Frankly, I don’t think that feeling has gotten any better. They’re ranging from 12-15 years old now and the fact that I can’t be with them every moment leaves a constant reel of ‘things that can go wrong’ playing in my head. Are their peers being kind to them? Are their teachers treating them with respect? Don’t worry, I’m not irrational in any of this. I realize my kiddos have to grow into themselves and this society we live in today and they need to do that their own ways. I can only hope that if they find themselves in a situation where they are unsure how to move, they’ll reach out to me.

I’ll never be able to understand the neglectful parents, The abusive parents, The absent parents - never ever. When I look at my children, there’s not a damn thing I wouldn’t do to keep them happy healthy and safe. Not one fxcking thing. Our babies are born and as a mother, you’re literally their lifeline. You’re it. You’re the one responsible to love them and take care of them. I’m not going to dismiss fathers here but let’s be realistic and admit that there’s something about the bond between a mother and her child. The baby felt you first, they heard you first, their heartbeat started in you. That’s something NOBODY else in the world can say they have except that mother and that child.

Post partum depression is a struggle in itself. Not only did you spend the last nine months growing a life inside of you but now your beautiful baby is here and for some reason you’re not okay. Then you blame yourself. 😓 I should be happy. I should be over the moon in love with my baby. I’m already a bad mom, I’m not even happy. The guilt, the shame and the doubt that inserts itself creates such a dark shadow over you. The baby is crying and you sit there staring off or maybe you cry too. If by chance you’ve dealt with this before, or maybe dealing with it currently, please know, there’s nothing wrong with you. Give yourself some grace as your body just went through something truly traumatic. You did not just deliver a pizza, you grew a life inside of you, managed to bring them into this world - THAT in itself is incredible, as many women who were unable to do so can probably tell you the same, it’s not easy for some. Be proud of yourself, even if just for this moment right here as you read this. Be proud of yourself. You made it this far and you and baby are gonna grow with each other, into this new life together. The life before them doesn’t exist anymore, it’s not supposed to feel easy and seamless. You’re gonna figure it out and I know you’re strong enough because you made it this far already. Don’t discredit the last nine months. Don’t discredit the labor. You did that shit and you’re gonna conquer so much more and it’ll be the most bittersweet and incredible thing to watch your baby learn and grow into their own selves… and as strong as you remain, they’ll mimic your strength in the future. There’s no giving up now mama - you’re gonna show that baby EXACTLY what you’re made of. You’re that badass who brought them into this world and you’re gonna walk alongside them in this world - frankly, they won’t even notice that they’re carrying you too. They’re the reason you keep going ♥️ y’all have each other, just like that day you saw those two lines show up on that stick.

Didn’t expect this post to go this route but I miss my babies and there’s not a second that goes by that I don’t remember why I’m here - and that’s because of them 💜💚🩷

[illkeepyourbrittleheartwarm]

Was sooo excited to turn a new leaf and start back at college with great attendance etc, especially since I've felt so much more energised thanks to my thyroid meds, and can't wait to increase my dosage. But alas I have been hit by the TWO flus my bf had in a row. Again, I thought I got lucky and just avoided them both, by some sort of divine intervention. A week later, it's hereeeee.

So now I need to delay submitting my assignment for yet another week, email my lecturer who is really nice and understanding about everything, and miss the first week of the new lectures. Boooo.

Why does my body hate me

Fresh start from next week then

[evilponds]

no matter how i sit or stand my back hurts i hate it hereeeee (my body)