#i wish there was some type of pattern to my sickness

[hummingbirdswords]

.

[furiousgoldfish]

I've finished reading "I'm glad my mom died", by Jennette McCurdy. it was an insightful and painful read. I've learned more about eating disorders than I ever knew before, and some distressing facts about the entertainment industry. The book deals with the topics of child abuse, eating disorders, childhood sexual abuse, toxic relationships, sexual coercion, childhood exploitation and overall exploitation of children in the entertainment industry, so take these as trigger warnings if you're going to continue to read this review.

The book starts in the author's childhood, showing us the bond between her and her mother. They're doing everything together, the mother extremely invested, the child eager to please. Then we learn, that in order to please the mother, the child has to not only violate their own comfort and bodily boundaries, but also pretend that it's what they want as well. Showing any kind of dissent from their mother's decisions, even a wrong type of face expression, will bring out something extremely painful to any child – having to see their own mother cry. So the child learns to act happy even when she's reluctant, resistant, sick, tired, worried, opposed or completely nauseous with what she's being put thru. Most of interactions are about putting a performance to please the mother and make her happy, all while the child is being sexually abused, forced into career of acting they didn't want, forced to deal alone with pain and mental illnesses, never getting a relief from pleasing.

No matter how much the child has to endure, she is always assured that if she refused to do what is asked, the consequences would be much worse. If she didn’t consent to be touched in the shower - she would get cancer. If she didn’t use up her birthday wish to ask for her mother to keep being alive, her mother would die. If she refused to act, her mother’s dreams would be dead. If she had her own favourite color, her mother would cry.

The mother only wants this obedient, pleasing, easily manipulated and controlled version of the child, so she keeps expressing pain at the mere idea of the child growing up. The child picks up on this, and in order not to break her mother's heart, attempts to stop growing. Mother is delighted with this extreme act of pleasing and obedience, and promptly teaches the child to restrict calories to stop their body from development, purposely throwing the child into anorexic disorder. She also witnesses the child's introduction to ocd, and decides to hide it, even reprimanding anyone else who brings it up and attempts to get it diagnosed.

Mother is the child's center of life, and she demands to remain so. The child knows nothing but pleasing; she had to learn insight, and study every mom's mood, desire, whim, face expression, speech patterns. She can recognize from the tone of voice what her mother is demanding at the moment. But she's never allowed to learn about herself. All of her tones, behaviour, speech patterns, smiles, desires, it's all an act she has to put on, not to make her mother cry. Her actual self is being buried further and further down, at the immense pressure of the mother's demands for it to not be existing in the first place.

Reading this book while knowing about the effects of child abuse and child neglect, will make you extremely uncomfortable. Because you already understand that having a child's boundaries violated and broken, will leave long lasting consequences, and it's not an innocent act of 'forcing child to do what adults think is best'. But to take it a step further, to make the child act like this is what they also want, that they actually have no boundaries, no desires, no identity or will of their own, that brings devastating consequences. It creates strain that doesn't end, neverending shame for feeling, for needing, for wanting anything. Guilt for being human, shame for feeling pain after being completely neglected. Not being able to see your own narrative anymore, because anything you think or feel needs to submit to a single goal – making the parent happy, making the parent look good.

The entertainment industry the child is exposed to brings one painful and toxic thing after another. To a child, being forced to compete in an industry where they declare your value based on how well you fit an imaginary role they set out for you, is poisonous. Being informed you're "not good enough" over and over again, having to try again, having to see someone else being special enough, wondering why you're not chosen, that is painful even for an adult to take. Not being allowed an identity because she was acting to be her mom's projection was bad enough, but now she was being judged and projected on by multiple people, expectations of her only bringing her further anxiety. To the author, it was almost natural, because it's all she ever knew. She had to smile and pretend it's okay to submit her to appearance changes 'because she might fit the role better', okay to starve herself to remain smaller looking, because it's easier to take advantage of a young-looking actor. At one point she manages to cry on cue, and these adults around her are so fascinated by it, they ask to see it again and again. And this wasn't acting. The child was bringing up the most traumatic, most devastating scenarios in her head, and she cried for real. She cried in real pain, and the adults were telling her to do it again and again, just so they could look at it more. I felt sick reading that.

The author's childhood revolves around mother's desired career, but also mother's cancer – which mother uses as a tragic backstory and a bargaining guilt-trip on every person she wants to use, and as a satisfying torture for her children. Having a child deal with the fact that their mother might die, is a terrifying and painful ordeal, and as much as possible, parents try to protect their kids from re-living that type of fear. The author's mother, however, recorded the experience and forced her children to watch it over and over again, praising them for breaking down and crying, suffocated by the pain of it. The author gets reprimanded for not having the pleasing-enough reaction, when she's only two years old. The cancer, once resolved, manages to come back, and ultimately creates the biggest turn-around in the author's life – her mother is now dying.

At this point the author is a young adult, trying out her first relationship, and immediately we see exactly what her childhood had set up for her – she doesn't notice her relationship is abusive. Having been sexually abused all her life, it's completely normal for her to dissociate and do anything to please, because she knows that to do anything other than that, would bring immeasurable pain and guilt and loss of the connection. The relationship was against her mother's wishes, and when her mother finds out, the author is subjected to the most vile tantrum of hatred, contempt, insults, slurs, threats, revenge, and is told she's now cut off from the entire family, and also urged to send them money for the new fridge. The author, terrified and devastated, does everything to fix the relationship with her mother, under severe pressure of guilt, shame and self hatred for "hurting her sick mother" – her mother even accuses her of causing the cancer.

It becomes very clear why the author had to deny herself everything in order to please the mother – this was the threat, hatred and pain that was expecting her the second she stopped. Seeing what her mother was ready to put her thru is eye-opening and scary to be aware of, nobody alive should want to cause that amount of pain to their own child, for making a choice, for trying to make a connection with another human being.

Another set-up we see from the traumatic childhood, is the author's relationship with food. Being subjected to starvation, at the hands of her mother, caused the author to experience severe shame and pain while eating, causing her to develop bulimia. She could no longer continue the starvation, once she was away from her mother's side, and the most natural thing for a body who was starved, is to demand food, to increase the instinct until it can no longer be controlled or repressed. Her body was trying not to die. This is where I learned that eating disorders are terrifying in the way they bring out a relief from feelings, relief from trauma, they can stop guilt and shame and can be used as a coping mechanism. Reading about this, I felt lucky I was spared from that type of self harm, because it was absolutely devastating for the author's life and health, but the worst thing about it was just how much the author blamed herself for all of it. The author did not do this to herself, she was set up to experience this from the start. Processing her feelings was not even an option – she wasn't aware she was even allowed feelings in the first place. Her feelings were never allowed to surface, or to be seen on her face, she was allowed only to feel what her mother approved of, only act on impulses that were pleasing. There was no way for her to recognize or feel the trauma, the amount of feelings were unsurvivable for someone whose body was not used to experiencing a single non-pleasing feeling.

The death of the mother was made as painful as possible, mother insisting until the end for her wishes to be fulfilled, for everyone to keep the role she had set for them. For her daughter to keep starving herself, to keep a job that thrived on continuing the trauma. It was painful to see.

The author attempted therapy, and after the therapist suggesting her mother could be abusive, quit instantly. The urge to preserve her childhood, her closeness and the bond with her mother, the building blocks of her life, prevailed. It was exactly what I would have done as well. It would take a lot of time before the author was ready to attempt therapy again, and to be able to talk about what her mother did to her, under the guise of 'wanting only the best'.

The traumatic aftermath of her mother's death only kept getting worse, as the author now struggled to keep sacrificing her health for her career, only to please the producers and the mother who was no longer alive, she struggled to mourn her mother when she was never taught how to mourn, or allowed to feel something so painful. She struggled with missing her mother. The eating disorder plagued her every interaction and shared meal, she was not allowed to rest and have fun. She struggled with other abusive family members, who insisted on still controlling her with guilt. She struggled thru her relationships, which were filled with so much coercion and neglect. The first time the author had a sexual experience that wasn't coerced or demanded her to dissociate from the trauma of it, she ended up breaking down, because she finally had a reference to how traumatic her past experience were. This was heartbreaking to read.

The author, thru the entire book, is the most down-to-earth person you can imagine. She states everything in facts, she informs you right away that she hates bringing emotions in her words, and she stays true to it. She takes every thing matter-of-factly. She doesn't romanticize, she doesn't indulge in nostalgia. She points out every hypocrisy and pretend she can see in others, she points out the true intentions of everyone's actions. When she's struggling with the extreme effects of eating disorders, she takes this matter-of-factly as well, it's just a thing she does. There's no other way to go on with it except for normalizing it, the extreme traumatic reactions are normal, the self harm is normal. It makes it very clear how even the most logical and factual person, can be controlled under the weight of guilt and shame, until she's not allowed to think in certain directions. Until she has to accept that impossible and extremely vicious things are normal and to be defended, in order to protect her sanity from what is going on. It proves that nobody is 'too emotional', or 'too sensitive', the author certainly wasn't any of these things. She was tough, smart, insightful, enduring, extremely invested in making other people happy, and avoiding the worst of pain for herself. And it didn't save her, it didn't make the abuse obvious. Because we're all vulnerable to it just the same.

The author manages to stay in therapy the second time, and is finally allowed to recognize her own feelings and emotions, which opens the way to processing them without using extreme self harm via eating disorders. She recognizes her acting career for what it is, a painful, traumatic exploitative deal she took under coercion, that only does harm to her life, and she quits. Her fight with the eating disorders is long and painful, and it feels like something you never completely recover from, but you improve, you manage to enjoy a cookie and it's a big victory, something you weren't allowed or able to do thru the most of your life.

At the end of the book, the author is at her mother's grave, this time aware of what transpired. The effects of her mother's death on everyone was a true proof of what she was – a detriment. The mother's husband moved on almost immediately, and was able to admit to the author that he wasn't her biological father – her mother lied into her death about it. Giving the author another betrayal, and another painful reality to deal with. The author realizes had her mother still been alive, she, the author, would still be in almost constant state of pain, still starving herself, still doing whatever would please the mother, no matter how devastating it was. She finally acknowledges, that her mother was a narcissist. That the abuse was horrifying. And that she still misses her. But, she won't be back to visit the grave.

I found the book both painful and welcome in my life. I hope that other abused children and adults will read it, and that some things will click. Maybe another narcissistic parent had tried, or is trying to starve their child into anorexia, maybe someone else has been mislead to believe their ocd is something normal and something they shouldn't get any support and help with. Maybe there's more children whose will and feelings are being taken away, who have to pretend they have none. Maybe there's other children who are forced to live without being given any acknowledgment, who aren't allowed to feel their own feelings. Who are forced to live in a hoarder house and defend this. Who are able to only see the story for their parent's point of view, who believe all of the vicious things their parents do is for their own good – I hope it helps to see the reality. I hope if you're experiencing the consequences like this, that you know you are being set up, and you didn't do this to yourself. I hope you realize that the shame cast on you is something put there to control you, and it's not your shame to feel. The shame belongs to the one who did this to you.

[goldxnfemme]

is it normal to feel like you might not actually be femme bc of your physical appearance? every femme i've ever seen just had this natural beauty and glow, and i just don't have that, i'm ugly. i feel really drawn to the identity in every other way, but i feel like a monster next to other femmes. like.. if i look so different and feel like that there has to be a reason, maybe because im something else. and yeah technically i know femme doesn't have a specific body type or look, but i don't think ugly femmes exist.

I feel like in their own way almost every femme has felt like that, unfortunately, anon, like they don't belong or really inadequate around other femmes, most femmes I've known and talked to, at the very least. I have been feeling really inadequate and unwelcome and just weird in the community lately because of some things I went through recently and I'm still not too sure how to get back from that.

It does make me feel sad that so many of us feel like that and I think it's a two part problem. The first part speaks about our own insecurities, the ways we see ourselves and how we compare ourselves to others since they've been made the standards of the identity by others and sometimes by us too. The second part is the community praising and recognising almost only a very set pattern of traits that makes the rest of us feel like "if I'm not like that, then something must be wrong with me". That goes for the way you behave, to the way you describe yourself, to the things you like and dislike and it's a lot, it's tiring.

Sometimes people talk about this standard as if it needs to be protected like it's in danger of extinction, the very expected/standardized idea of femme (skinny, cis passing, hyperfeminine, pink and girly, always with makeup and hair done), it's silly. I mostly feel an immense sense of unfairness from all that. It inherently defeats the nature of femme, if it's made to be one size fits all.

I wish it weren't so, I wish the diversity of femmes in so much more than beauty (and in beauty too, since it's what you mentioned here) and more ways of doing femme, existing as femme were more widely recognised in the community, but we still have a long way to go to achieve that, I think.

What I want to tell you is: I'm sorry you're feeling like that, especially around other femmes. That's not how we're supposed to make each other feel, intentionally or not.

this idealised femme very much doesn't exist, what gets posted on the internet isn't what we look like a lot of the time*: it's not us feeling sick or tired or having a difficult day with disabilities, it's not us just finishing work after a long week, it's not us handling things with our partners, running around having to organize things at home, general responsibilities and not be late for work, it doesn't show us when we're sad and we're feeling less than strong and brave. This idealised notion of femme sometimes takes away from our humanity playing weaknesses and flaws, real or perceived, as not femme. And femme importantly isn't about beauty as you know, but it is about those things that don't get shown a lot too.

The way you're feeling is common, a lot of the time I'm right there with you, I wish it weren't common though. And for what it's worth, it might be a lot of you doubting yourself, though I'm sure it's not the entire issue. All kinds of femmes exist, so many of us, an amazing variety.

I'm not sure how helpful this is, but ugliness and beauty are subjective, but also exacerbated by silly standards. Be careful with those. Also thank you for trusting me with this and giving me a space to speak about my own feelings, anon, even without knowing.

*mind you, almost every time I post a picture I have makeup on or it's a time I feel really good about myself and it doesn't happen for the majority of the time.

[ninelivesastrology]

Single non-BIWOC who can't decenter men are so quick to tell you to break up with your boyfriend/husband because misery loves company. They know the rules are different for BIWOC because of perceived desirability/value.

They're so quick to say you're being used or that your partner doesn't love you when they're still playing Casting Couch on the first date and they're almost 40. No shade, I wouldn't care otherwise, but I've been judged by them, too.

tw: misogynoir, toxic friendships, ED, body dysmorphia, racial politics, astrologizing negative things, dogwhistling, racial fetishization, infidelity, fatphobia, anti-Blackness

They tell you to leave your partner because in my case, it would boost their self-esteem that I'm a BIWOC single mother. Whole time, their mom is a single mother. But this is the shit that insecure women wish on other women, they want the cycle to repeat, for someone's child to be as lost and miserable as they are. Damn, "fuck them kids," I guess.

I hate to test my friendships like that, but as I get older, the more I lose my non-BIWOC friends. Like if they're not (fully) Black or Indigenous, they're not safe for me because they need to unlearn and the truth is, they may never unlearn. That's not my problem.

The dating climate is shit anyway. It's been poisoned by incel rhetoric.

And it's not me, it's them. I tried to figure out what it is astrologically and to be honest, I have a very good idea. I think it's really compelling that women feel threatened by my appearance. Sometimes I feel like with my Venus in the 1H, I'm just a magnet for women who were attacked in some way or form by physical misogyny, such as being the "fat friend"—Mind you, early 2000s gave us all restrictive EDs—or being the "ugly friend" or being the "invisible friend" because you're friends with the popular girl or the "poor friend" or the "cheated on friend," then they enter this cycle where they need to feel superior to the people they're friends with in adulthood. Years of internalized misogyny.

But it's so different when you're BIWOC and especially different being categorized into those friendship hierarchies has a lot to do with being BIWOC and desirability politics. It's really sick. I have noticed a pattern of non-BIWOC starting friendships with me and it's all about them using me to feel better about themselves, but then they feel like I can have whoever I want over my looks and they're angry about it. Instead of me fulfilling the stereotype that I'm jealous of them, they're jealous of me. Every stereotype is really a projection.

I wasn't really socialized to define myself by my looks either, the body dysmorphia was rampant for years. At one point, I was the "ugly friend."

I just think back to that one Tiktoker that pissed everyone off, the one that said, "Yet every morning, you're looking at yourself in your full length IKEA mirror going, 'You're so hot, you're the prettiest girl in the world.' Okay, and? And even if that were true and let's be honest—*doubtful and shady white girl expression*—Who cares? Spell "Pharaoh." Tell me what the FTC does..." Yeah, she kind of cooked, because she was right, who cares? She subtly called out the people who use empty affirmations over their physical appearance to quell insecurity. I'm still crying, why was the spelling bee word pharaoh?

I think it's very important to mention age is a deeper part of this because the older certain types of women get, the more resentful they become and they need to take out their anger on someone. I wasn't socialized to date, let alone care about doing shit before a certain age. My face is not going to melt at 30.

And while men preach about women "hitting the wall" at 25, 22, 19 (the age is getting lower and lower, goal posts keep moving), that is not my problem. That is an entirely different problem that justifies harm towards a very impressional and powerless group of people.

Women are competing with teens for men in their age group. These are not men I would personally let near me with a 50 ft pole, but because women have been socialized to compete, they're falling for it. I 100% bet 7/10 30-40 year old men have their dating ranges from 18-29 and that 29 is GENEROUS.

The women were socialized to believe they would be married at 25 by the man of their dreams who lets them run their credit card up and lets them act like a baby who needs to be taken care of. It doesn't matter if they know how to cook or clean or not because the results are mixed for me. Usually the ones that can't cook or clean are looking for a replacement father figure. The ones that cook and clean have this conviction that it will keep their man. I don't know what to say besides "decenter men."

When they see a BIWOC woman with their boyfriend, husband, fiance and they have a kid, whether married or not, it eats them up, man.

Women look at my husband different because my husband is a dad. I got the Evil Eye on the train by a white woman because my husband was playing with our dumpling.

Can't gaslight me and tell me it's not because... My husband told me this story about his egg donor's friend having a meltdown at his egg donor's birthday party because her ex husband was there with a Black woman. My husband said based off this, he should've known that Xanny the Nanny would treat me the way she did (like a side-bitch to her man whole time she's playing the role of a side-bitch).

There are expectations non-BIWOC have for their lives and when they don't get their happy ending before a certain age, they lay ruin to everyone else's relationship.

And you know what's absolutely damning about 70% of the non-BIWOC friends I've had in the past 6 years? At one point or another, they've rubbed in it in my face about how Black men want them. Who knows if they're telling the truth? But it's a dogwhistle. It's like, "I can have access to your men anytime I want," and a threat because if I was with a Black man or because they think I want Black men, they'd want me to be paranoid. Oooh, scary, steal your man!!!! Jungle fever!!!

But this is the truth that's projected onto us.

Deep down, non-BIWOC women fear having their men stolen by BIWOC. They fear the light or dark BIWOC that has the privilege of desirability across all races. To some people, we're all the same.

I argue that men are men, but I have a track record of Asian, Black, white, Mixed, Latino men approaching me. White women, Latina women, but I never really got into the wlw scene, I was too pussy to go to a gay bar.

This is the consequence of painting master-slave relationships as forbidden romances and Pocahontas' trafficking as a love story. Every fucking BIWOC dating outside her race is smeared as a raceplayer who hates themselves. And there's a bunch of women lined up to make them hate themselves. Chaos is a fucking ladder and that's the racial hierarchy. And it's usually not even white women unless they have some really shitty self-esteem issue, usually revolving around their weight. The skinny white girls never breathe down my neck, but the big white girls have been my biggest bullies because they're lower in their own hierarchy.

And I don't hate non-BIWOC, I'm really indifferent towards them until they start trying to humble me and make me hate myself and compare myself to them. I wanna look like me, not you. 🤣 What a projection.

[doyouknowbtsswag]

Decay |Bang Chan|

Part 2

"Let me see the files on the exact rhythmic movement again," I said to my coworker who handed over the file.

I sighed looking through the file and typing away at my computer what I thought about the information in the file that I might have missed. I must've been sitting for at least 7 hours. I was part of a classified operation working with a potential new disease found in a recently deceased person. It was new but nothing to worry about, just seemed as though the body was still processing death. I looked at another file looking at the reports of the breathing pattern of the person that was once alive.

"I wish I wasn't picked for this," my coworker said. "The pay isn't worth the stress"

"I think this is just the body still trying to die, he died two months ago and nothing has happened," one of my coworkers said. "I don't get why they suddenly had us research something like this, the breathing pattern of death went through as it should."

"I know but everything we submit gets sent back wanting more information" Another spoke. The bickering against this project was bigger than any other I've seen. "We can't find everything with just these files."

"Complaining isn't going to help" One snapped being in a place with each other for too long is driving some people crazy. "You're giving me a headache"

"I'm heading to get some coffee" I announced standing up and grabbing my keys and purse. "I'll be back"

"Hurry up so we can get this project done I'm sick of it," One of my coworkers said typing away annoyed.

"I know I will I'll bring back some for everyone," I said taking my lab coat off and walking out the door. "Finally some fresh air"

I decided to walk to the Coffee Shop instead of driving considering how long I've been sitting. I looked around the city for the coffee shop still getting used to the environment I was transferred to. I found the shop and walked inside. There was a small line which was fine with me, the more time I could have to myself. I looked around the shop observing people and their movements hoping it might possibly help our case. Once it was my turn I ordered the drinks and paid. I stood waiting for the coffee sighing at the fact that I had to carry 6 drinks back with me. The lady smiled and gave me the tray filled with coffee cups. I thanked her and went back to the lab I was working at.

"Niragi better not bitch on me this time about coffee," I said to myself rolling my eyes.

I came upon the lab groaning at the remembrance of what I had to go back and do. I rounded the corner and saw that the doors were covered by a protective steel cover. I approached the entrance and placed down the coffee annoyed and confused about what was going on. I tried calling one of my coworkers which brought me exactly to voicemail. I groaned banging at the door hoping they'll hear which I highly doubt. I tried calling the actual workstation which didn't work either.

"What the hell is happening" I muttered pissed off at the prank they were pulling on me.

Maybe it was karma for doing the same to another coworker. It wasn't professional and put our jobs on the line but being stuck for two months in a laboratory it gave everyone a small kick out of it. I tried calling again to be sent to voice mail again.

"Guys I'm going to throw your coffee away if you don't let me in now" I threatened as the voicemail ended looking at the security camera.

I tapped my foot looking at the barrier waiting for it to rise hoping the threat worked. I stared at the door for 2 minutes, obviously, they aren't going to let me in anytime soon. I sat on the ground next to the door annoyed at my coworker's antics. I grabbed my coffee thinking about why they aren't opening up the door. There's no way something happened when there are only files and a locked-up dead body that couldn't go anywhere considering the room it was in. I took a sip and looked around just now noticing the empty parking lot the only car being mine. I quickly stood up now thinking that something did happen. I walked to my car forgetting about the coffee. Once I entered my car I opened my phone that started beeping I looked down raising an eyebrow.

I stared at my phone in disbelief. Fear and confusion were evident on my face. The message kept replaying and I still sat there not knowing what to do. It all made sense now. The laboratory was shut down and everyone fled to see their loved ones. I quickly went to call my parents but the phone wouldn't dial. I looked at my phone and saw the service was down. I panicked texting and calling, but nothing went through.

"No no no no" I repeated trying over and over again. "The landline phones, they might work."

I hit the gas and sped to my temporary apartment. I got stuck by traffic ahead of me. I tried backing out but was blocked by someone pulling behind me. There was nowhere for me to drive.

"Damn it" I yelled getting out of the car with my belongings.

I started to run to my apartment which luckily wasn't too far away. I looked around still running and seeing what the news was talking about. I covered my mouth seeing the man get eaten across the street. I tried running faster and eventually made it to the building. I ran inside the apartment and slammed the door shut locking it immediately. I put down my stuff and grabbed the home phone. I called my parents but they didn't pick up each and every time I tried to call.

"Fuck" I yelled throwing the phone across the room making it break my breathing still trying to catch itself from running.

"You have 3 voicemails"

I looked over at the voicemail station where the phone charges and pressed the play button.

"Voicemail 1 Hey honey, we just wanted to check in and see if your okay, we know we can't get to you right now but make sure to stay safe okay? We love you"

"Voicemail 2 Y/n we are packing the van to come get you. Your sister is still at school so it will be delayed a bit just stay where you are okay? We love you"

"Voicemail 3 your father just got attacked I'm going to take him to the hospital you be safe and wait okay? We love you so much don't ever forget that. What's that? What- ahh"

"You have no more voicemails"

"No this can't be happening," I said tears trailing down my cheeks as I slid down the wall. "This isn't real this is just a bad dream"

I started to cry my mother's last words repeating in my head. The fear in her voice made everything worse. I cried on the floor for 15 minutes until I felt the ground shaking. I got up and looked out the window. Helicopters started to drop bombs in the street and gunfire went off. I grabbed my keys faster than lightning and made a run for the door hearing the helicopters come closer. I ran down the stairs my throat burning from my heavy breathing. I ran as fast as I could away from the city to avoid getting bombed. I looked behind me and saw a metal ball drop down on a building. I looked forward and kept running making sure not to look back. I slowed down when I thought I was far enough I laid on the ground out of breath looking at the sky that started to get covered by smoke. I sat up and watched the city burn

————————————————————————

Hello if you read this book when the chapter first came out I am redoing the whole thing hopefully this version is better than the first. I hope you enjoyed this chapter! ✨ Remember you are perfect and worth it the way you are!! ✨

[victhinks]

Memories, My Enemy

Lockwood & Co. Angst week, Day six: Oh, Yes, The Past Can Hurt | regrets ; @lco-angst-week

Also posted on AO3

TW: Past Child Abuse, Panic Attacks

Lockwood's scream reverberated through Lucy, but it was the strike against the hard surface of the table that made her shrink back, spiraling into the past.

“I don't care what you assessed at the moment, it was dangerous, it was reckless!” Lucy hissed at him, eyes blazing with betrayal and hurt. Lockwood had thrown himself headfirst into danger again because of course he had — he was an idiot, all too easily willing to sacrifice his life for anyone, anything and it made her blood boil. 

Lockwood stared back at her unflinchingly, unapologetic about what he’d done. “Someone had to do it,” he stated calmly, monotonous voice sending chills down Lucy’s spine. The ease with which he disregarded his own life made her sick to her stomach, terror about what he’d do to himself gripping her so tightly sometimes she could hardly breathe. 

“Why does it always have to be you, Lockwood?” she countered exasperated. It was agony caring so deeply about someone who was willing to leave her alone in this world as effortlessly as Lockwood. “Not everything is about you! There is no need for you to play the hero every damned time we are in danger,” she exclaimed, knowing his ego to be a sore spot.

Lucy was right, of course, and Lockwood bristled. His shoulders tensed, his eyes narrowed and the air of calm he had so painstakingly tried to maintain throughout their fight — because he was cool, and collected and stoic — had dissolved into annoyance. 

He chuckled forcedly, giving Lucy a mocking smile. “Right, because things are about you now. How ever could I forget that the great Lucy Carlyle” — the distaste with which he said her name made her heart seize painfully — “is the only one who can help us all because she is so amazingly talented she can speak with Type Threes!”

“Are you still not over that?” she scoffed disbelievingly, “Lockwood, maybe you should seek your sense in life in things other than your profession and precious agency. It would be nothing, after all, without me—”

“Enough!” Lockwood yelled, slamming his hand on the kitchen table hard enough to make a few mugs crash to the ground. His scream echoed through the kitchen, traveling through the halls of the otherwise silent house. There was no mistaking his own boiling anger, directed at Lucy for taking the most ragged part of himself and tearing it apart in front of him some more.

His scream reverberated through Lucy, but it was the strike against the hard surface of the table that made her shrink back, spiraling into the past.

‘Why are you such a disobedient little brat?’ her mother had asked, each syllable accompanied by a slap. She was not deterred by Lucy’s cries and pleads to stop, promises that she would do better, be good and ‘please, mom, it hurts. No, stop, please, please—’

Her father striking the table was what made her mother finally stop. He was drunk, as always, and slurred his words, making what he said nearly incomprehensible. Lucy was used to this pattern of speech, however, so she understood perfectly well how he told her mother to kick her out of the house for the night, assuring her that it would teach Lucy some manners. 

Never one to refuse his wishes, her mother had done as he said, shoving her through the door harshly with a single silver knife to defend herself with. 

She had never been as scared as she was that night. The terror was enough to make her choke on her shallow breaths throughout the entire night, Listening and waiting for someone to come and put an end to her life.

Lucy stood frozen before Lockwood, sickeningly pale and eyes wide. The terror of that night coursed freshly through her veins. She was sure to be one wrong move away from Lockwood kicking her out, making her leave into the haunted night with a single silver knife to fend off the dead, all alone—

Meanwhile Lockwood had noticed her flinch back violently, as if she’d been slapped. From her rigid posture to the trembling hands at her sides and her chest rising and falling rapidly, he knew there was something wrong. 

Concern overtook him immediately, banishing any other emotion from his mind. “Lucy?” he asked carefully. 

“I—” she started, still looking at him wide eyed and scared. What was she scared of? “I’ll be good, I swear,” she gasped, shrinking into herself further.

“What?” he asked in confusion, immediately regretting the sharp tone in which he said it when he saw Lucy back away from him. She was shaking now and he could see tears glistening in her eyes. “Wait—” he pleaded, taking a few steps towards her. It broke his heart to see her hurting and he wanted to understand what had happened so he could help.

Lucy was wracked by tremors, breaths coming in uneven gasps and tears finally spilling over her cheeks. “Don’t make—” she choked, trying desperately to get the words out before the lump in her throat made it impossible to and the sobs shaking her frame would turn her incomprehensible. “Don’t make me leave, Lockwood,” she cried, hugging her chest tightly.

It made him halt his steps, hand hovering a short distance away from her arm. “What?” he breathed uncomprehendingly. 

Slowly, giving her enough time to draw away or stop him if she wished, Lockwood rested his fingertips against her arm, caressing her. Lucy’s breath hitched, but instead of taking a step back to brush him off, she reached out with a shaking hand to grasp his arm, latching onto it as if it were her anchor to reality.

Confident his touch was welcome now, Lockwood rested his whole palm against her to draw soothing motions onto her arm. “Breathe deeply, my love,” he murmured, placing her free hand carefully on his chest and taking exaggerated breaths for her to copy. 

Lucy tried, needing half a dozen attempts until she could wrestle control of her breathing back for long enough to take a deep breath. One turned to two, two turned to three — “That’s it, just so. You’re doing so well, Luce” — and onwards, accompanied by Lockwood’s gentle reassurances, until she no longer felt like she was drowning on dry land.

“Thanks,” she said hoarsely, letting Lockwood navigate her slowly onto a kitchen chair. She felt drained and wanted nothing more than to curl up under the blankets on her bed to rest, but Lockwood was kneeling in front of her, looking at her with wide brown eyes. She could see the confusion and guilt in them, wanting to know what had happened, asking her for an explanation.

So Lucy tells him, watching his face change from muffled sadness at her description of her early family life and childhood to one of anguish at the tales of beatings from her mother until finally settling on abject horror at the mention of her father’s proposition.

“Oh, Luce,” he said, voice full of sorrow so profound she wished to take back the story she had shared, “I’m so sorry this happened to you.” Lockwood was blinking away tears, taking her hands in his own and covering them with kisses. 

Tenderness was something she had learned to expect frequently from him. Lockwood was dedicated in his affections, finally free to show them openly and have someone he could direct them at, after so much time spent isolated. He was overflowing with love and care, and Lucy was eternally grateful to be on the receiving end of so much warmth.

“Not your fault,” she muttered, closing her eyes to savor the sensation of his kisses on her skin. She could not remember ever having been loved so much by anyone. “I was reminded of the instant, is all.”

The kisses stopped abruptly and Lockwood drew back, eyes darting upwards to meet hers. “Was it something I did?” he asked, eyes searching hers. 

Lucy hesitated for a moment. “When you hit the table, I had to think of my father and how he—” threw me out. She could not finish, the mortified expression on Lockwood’s face made her halt and she knew that his heart had just shattered in his chest at having hurt her.

“I’m so sorry,” he said softly, burying his face in his hands and breathing shakily. 

The guilt was eating him up, making him regret every time he had ever raised his voice at her. If he could take it back somehow, he’d do it in an instant, travel back in time to stop himself from frightening Lucy so profoundly, making the person he loved shake with fear of him and what he’d do to her — Lockwood felt something within him break at the thought. 

There was a hand cradling through his brown locks and another under his chin, moving his head upwards to look at Lucy. “You could not have known,” she told him, making sure he understood that she did not fault him.

“I shouldn’t have—” he tried to object, hanging his head in shame and feeling swallowed whole by his regret. Lucy cut him off with a chaste kiss.

Lockwood squeezed his eyes shut, trying in vain to stop his tears from falling. “I’m sorry,” he said again. Lucy guided him closer until his head rested on her chest and he drew his arms around her. “I love you so much.”

[paigenoelchas-blog]

This is a dark AU collaboration started by @x3kristax3. It can be gruesome and violent at times, though each chapter does not reflect that. There are numerous TW listed at the start of each chapter. I would encourage you to check them carefully before you begin to read as this type of writing may seriously trigger some readers. We do not want that to happen.

Here is the link to all of the chapters. You won't understand what is going on if you don't start at the beginning.

TW for this chapter, minimal violence, and some language.

Trap of Lies

Chapter 20

Two weeks ago:

Jake’s POV:

“Alan can offer me so much more.”  Her words ring through my ears. I had to watch her leave with him, taking my heart as well. I can’t be in her room anymore.  The room smells like her, which used to be a comfort and now just makes my heart break a little more.  I have given up everything for her and I will give it up again gladly if it would bring her back to me. She is with him. He is kissing her and who knows what else.  How can she do it?  How can she be with him knowing that he was responsible for all of the terrible things that happened to her?

It makes me sick, the thought of her in his arms. I want to throw up. I want to kill him. I want to shut off all emotion except rage and deal with him now and handle the consequences later. That would be, however, the reaction of Leader and I walked away from him into a new life, one filled with uncertainty and regret, but one that handles things in a more civilized way. I will not go back, but in this moment, I wish that I could, just to make sure that Alan can't hurt her ever again.

My back is stiff and I stare at the wall. This is my house, but I have never even noticed this wallpaper before. I hadn't paid much attention to those things. Today, I noticed the black wallpaper dotted with an inlaid rose pattern. The wall lanterns couldn't bring light to this room, though they tried. The matching couches are also black and simply dreadful. How dreary. I look out the window with its deep, heavy curtains and see no sunlight. Today is a cold day, the air is foggy and the coldness fills the house despite the roaring fire. I stop and think forgetting for a moment all of the problems. I must have MC decorate once she moves... She is not moving in, she is not in my presence, I have lost her.  I can now focus on nothing other than my anger and pain.  I hold my hands in my lap in hopes that the rage does not escape.  They are clenched so tightly that I feel my fingernails leaving marks inside my palms.  I do not care.  The pain it causes does not compare to the pain in my heart.

Sitting on the couch, I notice that Mary and Charlies have stopped by so we can have a talk.  Mary sees me and places her hand on my shoulder, without a word, she walks into the kitchen.  I have no idea what she must think of me,  I have no idea how I will forgive myself for lying to her, to all of them.

Mary returns to the parlor with a glass of water in her hand.  Charlies is giving us some time.  She lays a warm hand on my back, trying to reassure me. “Son,” she reaches down and grabs my hands forcing me to loosen my fist. The way she does this is so gentle, it reminds me of how MC moves.  She looks into my eyes, “You have to stay strong, for all of us. MC needs you to be strong in spirit and mind.  I am sure that she is worried sick about you.”

“She clearly wants nothing to do with me., "The anger and frustration still residing in the back of my voice, "Though I don’t blame her after what I have done.” I say, placing my head in my hands.

“I don't know exactly what my daughter is thinking, but I know that she is more capable than you think and she will be all right.  She has been in tough situations before and she held her own.  I also know that she loves you with all of her heart.  She doesn’t take that love lightly.  I also know that you need to focus on what you are going to do when she returns to you.”  She gives me a sympathetic smile.

“I don't think she will come back and want to be with me.  I don’t think she should want that. She deserves so much better.” I say softly.

“I don’t know the details about what has happened and what business you were in that caused this problem, but I know that you love MC and I know that you showed her that love every day.” She says looking into my eyes, making sure that her words are sinking in.

“I did not tell any of you the truth about who I was.  I did not make wise choices.  I am not a nice person.  I lied to you all. I am so sorry, you have no idea how sorry.”

“You have been good to us, setting the lies aside. If you don’t like who you were, don’t be like that anymore.” She says with confidence.  She acts as though it is that easy. I have given uptake business, but the demons still live inside have to be expelled as well. The rage still threatens to break out at any moment. I don't trust my reformed nature.

“I have left the past behind completely.  I have made it impossible for me to return to my old ways. Nothing is left of my old life except for her and she will never be out of my heart.  I will do my best to control the things inside in the hopes that one day she will be mine again,” I try and convince her.

She nods, then replies, “ Well good, then, you can handle this change.”

I appreciate Mary, truly, but doesn’t she know that I now have no way to support MC even if she does, miraculously, return to me?  I have no job and no experience that I can speak of.  I have nothing except my love for her and this family and my willingness to change for all of them.

Mary sees my hesitation, “Change to be better for yourself,  become something more than you were.  Then good things will come. Charlies and I love you.  We will help any way that we can.”

I notice her look up and follow her line of sight.  Charlies is standing in the doorway watching the exchange.  He crosses the room and kisses Mary on the cheek.  “Why don’t you let us men talk for a bit, Love? I will let you know what we talked about later.”  He wanted to make sure that Jake knew had no secrets from his wife. 

On her way out, she lets us know that she is preparing lunch for all of us, but before she makes it out of the room,  she turns, ”I want you to know that MC is braver than you think.  If I know her at all, she is trying to find a way back to you as we speak.  Did you find the ring?”

I shake my head and hold it down, she smiles, “I wonder where it could be?”  She turns and leaves.  I realize that MC’s coy smile is a mimic of her mother’s.  Mary is a remarkably beautiful woman. Her green eyes always carry a glimmer. Most women her age have there hair tied up on their head, she lets it fall down her back in ringlets just like MC. As she asks about the ring, I also recognize the light in her eyes.  Maybe the ring wasn’t lost. Maybe there is hope after all.

Charlies sits down next to me.  His eyes light up when he looks at his wife.  I recognize the reaction as it mimics my own whenever I look at MC. He is inane of her beauty, her spirit, her kindness. “It appears, Jake, that neither you nor I deserve the women that we love in any way. We are the luckiest of men.”

I don’t know if she is my woman anymore, but the fact that I was ever allowed to be by her side makes me the luckiest creature on this side of the ocean. if I never get to share I life with her, I would still consider myself the luckiest.

“Regardless of our luck, we are in an unfortunate place right now. I think we have some things to work out because I believe that you hold my daughter’s heart and you have become our family.  Family helps each other.  You have to tell me all the truth right now and we will come up with a plan to make an honest man out of you.  This is your chance to tell me everything.  I will trust that you can do that.”

I nod. Then begin my confession. “To be honest, I have nothing going for me right now.  I assure you that I have walked away from all of the things that brought me shame and would have been shameful to MC.  I have nothing left of my old life, but I still have nothing to offer her.” I speak honestly about everything. I tell him of my childhood, my special skill set, how I had gotten in this mess, and why I hadn’t included MC in any of it. I tell him how I worked to save MC and admitted to the darkness that lived in my heart when I thought of someone hurting her. I make him aware of all of my regrets and try to assure him of all of the ways I want to change.

He places his hand on my shoulder.  His face is gentle and kind, but he is a force to be reckoned with. I have seen him angry and I never want that anger to be directed at me. He is tall and can be imposing, but in this moment, he is full of compassion and his features have softened. “Now that I know that you have walked away from that life and I know exactly what you were involved with, we can fix this.  I don’t want you to walk in shame anymore.  You are never going to be that man again. What happened to MC is not your fault. The lies that you told were more for self preservation that deceit. You should have been honest with her, but those men are to blame for her capture and not you.”  He speaks firmly but with incredible kindness.  I haven’t had a lot of kindness in my life.

I don’t know if it is his generous spirit or the forgiveness that he offers, maybe it is just the release of my guilt, but I begin to sob.  I release the anger for what Alan and Richy had done, the sadness for my past choices and the hopelessness I feel over the loss of her. Mary comes in and holds my hand as I cry.  I have never felt more loved.  

“I am sorry that I misled you all and that you have to go through this.” I look at both of them as I apologize.  “There is though, one more piece of information that I must divulge, I had almost forgotten that you don’t know.”

They both nod,  I am not sure they can take any more truths today.  I take a deep breath and tell them, “Besides the fact that I love MC, and besides the fact that I can not stand the thought of my life without her, part of the reason I am so upset is the fact that Alan is the one that kidnapped her.  She knows it and she still went with him.”

Mary and Charlies meet each other’s eyes, I could swear I saw a look of relief move between them.  How could this be good news?

But they ignore the bombshell and change the subject.  “You are forgiven, we must move forward and not look back.  Love holds no record of wrongs,” Charles encourages and Mary nods.

“You know what I do for a living...” Charlies continues,  “... I deal in the trading of goods and services.  I can’t imagine that it is too different from your past profession of trading secrets.  Seeing how successful you were with your operations, I think you would be the perfect fit to take over my company so I can finally retire and take my bride to Paris.”

I lift my head. I may just have a plan to be worthy of her, well, Charlies may have a plan. Is that possible?  Is there any place in which I can still carry the hope of a happy future?

“Would you be interested in doing that, in taking my place? It will take some training and we will have to get your certificate, but you are smart and cunning,  It shouldn’t take too long.” Charlies asks.

“ It would be my great honor, though I doubt that I can ever take your place.” I put my head down, I am humbled by this family and their support for someone as depraved as I have been.

“Great, we will start tomorrow.” He says “Jake, we love you for who you are, not just for who you are to our daughter.  We will root for you and do all that we can to lead you to happiness whether MC forgives you or not.  If I could venture a guess, MC loves you as much as you love her.  Wait for a while, she can’t ignore what her heart says.”

“Thank you, sir” I am smiling from ear to ear.

“Not sir, call me Dad.” He is serious about this, “I know that you have felt that way for a while now, as have I.”

Yes, Dad and Mom.”  Mary looks at me and wraps her arms around me for a big hug.

I don’t know how to comprehend that a man like me that has lived in the dark corners and hid everything from those he cared about the most, one that never had someone to teach him or include him is so fortunate to have gained a family and a future that will allow me to hold my head high. I won’t take it for granted. I am anxious and eager to look into the sun and hold MC's hand with no secrets between us.

I hug Mom back.  She holds on tight for a moment.  I see a proud smirk on Dad’s face. 

She finally lets go of me and says, “Are you two fine gentlemen ready for some lunch?”  I nod and Dad pats my back as we walk into the dining room.

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

In the Present

Alan’s POV:

I just got called in to meet with Father.  I thought that I had been handling things well, but Father never wants to see me unless something is wrong.

I  knock on the door and walk in.  My hands are shaking, but I can’t let him see my weakness.  He is the only person that I am afraid of.  I have every right to be afraid.

“Father?” I say peeking my head inside.

His desk and his office are impressive. He has everything elevated so that he is always just a little taller than anyone else entering the room. His back cabinets are dark oak floor to ceiling with a ladder leaning against the wall so the top books can be reached. It contains books, logging manifestos and business papers. A large part of it also contains a weapons display. It is meant to look like a collection, but I know that those weapons are well used. It has been used inside this room and outside. Father is a skilled fighter and a vindictive businessman. His desk is dark oak as well and just as intimidating as the high library like walls that surround the room. There are no windows, the light coming from oil lamps placed around. Father prefers his privacy and doesn't trust anyone. Windows are too dangerous.

I see him. His body stiffens as he hears my name. He pulls his jacket down in a effort to calm his temper. His lips are tight and he has no light in his eyes.  Sighing, he turns around to greet me.  This is not a good sign.

“Alan, what are you supposed to call me?” He frowns as he speaks.  

“Oh, Sir, right I forgot.” Damn it. Damn it. Damn it.

“You only call me Father when I say you can call me Father and today, you haven’t earned it. Today is not my proudest of moments as a parent or a boss.” He turns back around in his chair, deliberately turning away from me.

The silence is deafening, but I know better than to say a word when he is in this mood.  It has been a long time since he has treated me with such vitriol.  I had been so focused on doing a good job before and now, I really made a mess of things because of my obsession with revenge.

“What. in. the. bloody. hell. has. crossed.your. fucking. pea-size. brain?" His voice is staccato, and he is trying to keep the volume down. "First, you get sloppy and let this Grey simpleton spill some secrets, then you kill him with your own hands in front of other people who can be called as witnesses and can lead the few good authorities back to me.  Then, you get caught up in all of this revenge nonsense with Jake and lose sight of our goals.” He is trying not to yell, his voice stays just below the surface, but his words still manage to cut like knives.

Father quickly spins his chair around and reaches across the desk and slaps me on the face, leaving a mark.  It surprises me.  It shouldn’t have. I should never be surprised by Father’s anger or his ability to inflict pain.

“Then,” Father grabs me by the shirt collar cutting off my breath momentarily. His face is red. His eyes have turned the darkest black, and he is spitting as his voice deepens, “...to add insult to injury, you bring this meaningless bitch back to your home, knowing full well that neither Jake nor her father will ever let her go. Where the hell has your mind gone?  Now I am forced to correct you.  If you weren’t in charge of the bobbies, I wouldn't let you live.  As it stands, I still need you there, but you have to fix this.  The lady, the one you claim to love, has become a liability.  She must go.”

“I want her, I can’t kill her.”  I am almost begging as I speak.  I remember that I must stop.  The only thing that Father hates more than incompetence is weakness.  I clench my jaw and lower my eyes realizing my mistake.

“You must find a way to eradicate her.  I don't care how it is done.  If you do not do it, you must die.  It is quite literally you or her." His voice is firm but held absolutely no emotion.

I can find a replacement for you if I must, though there is some part of me that would… regret this.” He finishes his sentence and waves a hand in the air to dismiss me, locking his emotions firmly away.

“Thank you, Sir, for your graciousness,” I say as I walk out the door.

Taking a cloth out of my pocket and closing the door to his office, I wipe the sweat from my face. I am glad that Father spared me. My mistakes have been too many.  I have to refocus and think about the Family first. The truth is, had I not been his son, I would already be merely a memory. I knew there would be no second chances.

What the hell am I supposed to do now?  I worked so hard to get her right where I want her.  I have her in the place where I can make him suffer every day and now I am supposed to throw all of that away.  I don’t love her, but I do love how much it hurts him when I touch her or talk to her or claim her.  She is not worth my life, but I want revenge on Jake.  I have worked too hard to lose my leverage this soon. I haven't had enough time to enjoy his pain.

I realize suddenly that if I kill her, he will suffer forever. I can keep reminding him that he wasn't strong enough to protect her, that he wasn't man enough to keep her interested, tell him that she died because of what a rotten person he is. Maybe this isn’t so bad after all.

What’s more, I know just the way to take that little bitch out.  Perhaps I can make Jake suffer even more in the process.  My smile grows wide and I stand up straighter. I have to wait for the right time and then, she will be finished and he will be to blame. 

Then, Father and I will both be pleased.

[mediocre-eternity]

What fashions are you enjoying these days? What’s Armand wearing in 2022?

Hello.

I love how people can leave me little messages anonymously. It’s so mysterious. I wish vampires would whisper little messages to me without me knowing who they were. What fun that would be.

Now to answer your question. Most people tend to overlook that I pay a great deal of attention to the comings and going’s of fashion, probably because Lestat is our clan’s figurehead and tries his best to show himself in intense fineries; though, I’m more drawn to the various trends that ebb and flow with time. I like seeing how items are deemed a complete faux pas one year and are worn in excess to galas and clubs and parties the next. Imagine if somebody in joggers and trainers made an appearance at some exclusive event forty years ago? They’d be mad. But all of the children nowadays show me their various Nikes and their Pumas and their Air Jordans…. All the time. They’re so excited when they tell you, too. Trainers aren’t my favorite shoes, however. I’ve always loved loafers the best. They have a small heel to them which helps with wearing pants and lot of my pants have to be tailored because my of height and waist. Also, I don’t have to consider coordinating a lot when I wear those types of shoes.

Now that I’m thinking about it, I do have a type of “signature” dress. I’ve always worn neat, tailored slacks, at least in this modern age. I like a good walker coat. A fine belt is a must and sometimes, when I’m not feeling like myself, I have to sport a variety of rings. And sunglasses, of course, probably my favorite modern accessory.

But, as always, if I like a garment I will simply take it, so it’s easy to stay “in style.” I’ve worn a rather loud jumper or coat here and there. Especially in New York City these garish, bold, ultra colored patterns emerged in the last decade. For example, I was wearing an oversized bomber with large asymmetrical Ying Yang circles covering the cloth. I also own a pair of neon yellow corduroy slacks as well. All sorts of hand bags are in style, too, and I’ve collected a number of those. I’m not sure if I’m fond of the “sweat suits” as Daniel calls them but I can see why the comfort might be appealing.

A modern item I really have grown fond if is the Doc Martin boot and Oxford. They’ve really struck me as a very fine shoe. The Oxfords are nicely shined and very slick and the boots look almost gaudy in their toughness. I once saw a young man pair the boots with shorts so I tried it out for myself and quite liked it. Yes, I can fit in very nicely with a youthful crowd if I so choose. I’m complimented often by these new children. Last spring I even had a mortal friend talk me into getting a piercing, right in the middle of my nose. “A Septum Piercing.” I remember that style from the 1980s but much more fringe crowds had these piercings. I kept the ring in my nose until I was sick of the look but I just might have the procedure done again. Daniel liked to jest about it at first but then confessed that it wildly turned him on. Tattoos are something I really envy but based on my own findings, it’s impossible for vampires to receive them once they’ve been given the Gift. But it’s just so easy now for modern humans to simply enter a shop and garnish their bodies as they so choose. It’s fascinating to watch. A group of giddy, somewhat drunk and somewhat high, bright and colorful young mortals decide on a whim to just run down the street and procure a man to jab a fish hook into them. That’s exactly what happened to me.

Oh, I should write about that night. I felt as though I were in Venice again, once again in a pack of rabid, muddy boys, stealing all the town’s wine. It was a pure and innocent type of indulgence. I digress.

I’ve really enjoyed how men are starting to appear more androgynous again in their dress which is something that reminds me of my childhood. Young men were as beautiful as young women. We even wore long robes as one might wear a dress now, or flamboyant high shorts with bright tights underneath. I remember a pair of very purple tights I had bought with my own money and sometimes I look back on that outfit and I miss it very much. I’m also not too keen on women’s fashions in general to dress as androgynously as some do, but I have enjoyed the “legging” or “jegging” style of pant but not necessarily because they mimic a style from my childhood. More that I really enjoy the pressure tight fabric creates on my skin. For the same reason, I’ve grown fond of “spaghetti strap” tank tops or tight “wife beaters” because they create a similar pressure on my chest and layer under other clothing.

I’m sure I could write about this quite a deal more but it wouldn’t really be answering your question anymore. I enjoyed your curiosity. Thank you.

[funkymbtifiction]

Hi again 😊 I'm sending so more info in hope you could help me and our previous talk just in case

* love criminal stories, adore guessing what happened and people motivations and * easily notice patterns or inaccuracies in world around * when like something or someone it often becomes her obsession * nitpicking and easily irritated when stressed * really objective, can see things from different perspectives * envy characters in tv/book/celebrities who have personality or look wish for and try to become like them * aesthetic loving person, really love fashion, architecture, movies from Tim Burton and Wes Anderson * want to be liked but have elitist taste in people, not everyone is 'worthy' * "im not like others", want to be unique and special but still liked and fit in * sensitive to criticism, easily hurt, takes everything to heart * have strong likes and dislikes but also can change her mind about things when learning new things about it * when choosing college I went where my friends and choose major that seemed cool in that moment * in last part of Bridget Jones when she choose Mark instead of Jack - couldn't believe how stupid ending was and how she choose person not most compatible with her who make her feel good and not stupid but one (which life proven before many times) are completely opposite and it simply don't have right to work out * daydream a lot, when I'm watching something or reading or just sitting in the bus * love justice, when my team won but I know I was unfair I tend to cheer up for other team next time * over-think what people think of me, if what I said was stupid or boring * like gossips and theories, I like to look at them from different perspectives and find out others opinions * often say or do things without thinking it through

I'm almost sure that I'm Fi and Se user (Isfp or Esfp, eventually Enfp or Enfj) and enneagram is either 9w1 or 4w3

Hi Charity 🙂 I struggle so much to find my type. I feel like finding it could help with creating/finding myself you know. I want to have this one perfect vision of mysel and become this person. Whole my life I’ve been trying to my true self, once Rory from Gilmore Girls, then Blair from Gossip Girl, sad artist, nicest girl next door, badass. I’m so sick of it, of being everyone and no one at the same time. I just want to find one route and stick to it. Like I want to be remembered as this concrete person. I don’t care if people think I’m too nice or too rude or fake. Being in the middle, mediocre, not distinguish around others, not knowing who you really are is awful feeling. 

You are too interested in reading between the lines and hypothesis to be inferior Ni, so if you are sure of Fi, ISFP. You also seem like an attachment type, so I would look at 3, 6, or 9. There's some 3 stuff in what you wrote, but the lack of a sense of self, being everyone and no one at the same time, is also 9ish.

[loveletterstothepast]

A Promise Ring.

Please forgive me, in my moment of crisis I’ve realized that I am never going to get better from some of the things that haunt me. No matter how much I wish.

High school feels a lot like a fever dream if rushed antics and growing pains. If I’m honest the most I remembered from it is being a disappointment. I remember endless suffering while smiling. High school was a gateway into entering an adulthood full of confusion and lonesome hours. It wasn’t horrible, it wasn’t terrific. It could’ve been so much better and if I had been beautiful… It would’ve been happier. I got so long along the way in those four years. I lost a large part of myself I identified because of my family and what I thought I could be. I found myself drawn in by indie music. I was infatuated with 2014-2016 timber fashion and craved for that freedom.. Until I got to have it. Then it wasn’t worth having much anymore… It was becoming muddy with the person I used to be. The girl I was becoming.. and the woman I’d soon find.

When I lost a little bit of my edge, I was given a promise ring with a moon carved into it. It was the only time someone had done something kind to pretend like we had a future together, I don’t think of the person who gave it to me much but I do think of the action in receiving it.

It wasn’t a ‘promise to marry you one day’ ring. It was a “Promise I won’t treat you that badly anymore. I’ll get better at loving you.” In my current situation.. I am becoming familiarized with that same concept of asking for forgiveness.. and betraying my trust. I may be a little dramatic because in some ways they are similar but one was worse. One has been worked on with years of help whereas the other is fresh and keeps finding ways to cut me open until it’s satisfied with how much I’ve bled.

I don’t want to compare you to someone so horrible but what is a constant situation has reminded me of that 11 year long ache I suffered. You will demonize me the same way until you are satisfied. You have destroyed my trust in such creative ways that I couldn’t even have fathomed. I wonder if I am a real fool. If you continue to lie and look at me with those wide eyes.. I have seen them before. It feels so stupid to be in a place I finally crawled my way out of before.

It’s a tiny shoe box and I am petrified of you. You are becoming apart of something so familiar it’s almost sick. Every week starts a new argument and I feel flustered on why we can never keep the peace but I realize in some way… you must love the chaos you cause in my eyes.

Because of you.. I want to change completely until you love me properly again.. but you won’t will you.

You’ll do the same and I will act ignorant until it hurts too much. I’ve found out that in every aspect of knowing your “type” I was right. All my blind assumptions were in fact correct and based on recognizing the patterns.

I knew you’d cheat on me and back then I’d have assumed it was because I was lacking an element that you desired. I’ve written many hateful things in my life. Spitballing fire of my very core exposing my true self and my inner trauma that although I felt I moved on from. I haven’t. I see him inside of you. Only he’s younger and has time to fix his path and stop sealing his fate of an undeniable abusive cheater. One day maybe a girl will come along and beat faithfulness into him. You however are a fully developed man. Brain fully formed and finding excuses in your own actions. This is mostly past based and present. I’ve been the one starting arguments now. I’ve been the one to show you exactly what I will not put up with. I will not accept a lesser man who values his playboy lifestyle over my heart. Although I may not be golden or worth much. I am much more than someone’s toy.

You did it. You did it months before my pregnancy. A year before my world fell apart. You did it long before leaving you was ever in my mind and kept it a secret from me for all this time. Never eating at you until I made you show. Until I plotted with a vengeance so powerful you were never going to win against me. At least with him he had the common sense to not gaslight me while the evidence stared me down in the face. I’ve had plenty of time to think about what this all means and I’m not lacking in any department. I am communicative. I am a fixer. I’m a doer. I will not let myself be torn down for another woman to trample on and eat at my thoughts.. although I’ve let her. She lives in my head and I’ve finally caught you watching your “intimate” videos. I’ve finally seen enough to know exactly what it is you’re doing behind closed doors and locked phones.

I always thought that I wasn’t your type because I’m tan, dark hair. Hispanic. Brown eyes. Basic. You’ve always shown deep interest in white women with colored eyes. They’re more your speed. Which made me angry about Faith Ashley because she didn’t fit your “type” either. A chunky hispanic with dyed orange hair and pale skin. While I caught you rubbing one out I saw the video. A white chunky woman with orange hair pale creamy skin. Something my body type doesn’t fit. My face could never be placed on. Some type of video that I realize.. is subjective due to it being POV porn. Watching a woman self pleasure herself in lacey garments with thick bouncy curls. Faith Ashley was what you’re into. I am still not your type. No matter how much I change for you. Like no matter how much I changed for him. At first I rested thinking a video is nothing but that until I slept on it. Dreaming about catching you all over again. Seeing the photo. Reliving catching you watching the other woman. I’m suddenly aware of another girls nudes in his old phone. Her lacey black underwear and soft smooth skin. I’m suddenly realizing that although I’ve always said these dreams were real and meant to come true and that I’d wait until the universe showed me. It already had. Thousands of times. I had always seen him cheat on me in dreams.. always assumed that I was just filling in blank spaces with ideas.

I was always right. I smell infidelity in your skin the same was I sniffed him out. I saw your unfaithfulness in dreams for months. I finally caught you because the feeling grew too strong and powerful to ignore. Now..? where do I go. Am I in love or am I yet again obsessed with trying to fit in a picture I do not belong in? I want to ask around and gather truths from others yet, no one will answer me honestly.

If I knew. Why did I stay? Because I am a fool in love with FOOLS. I’ve determined that a ‘promise ring’ is not enough to keep me sitting in unhappiness. I’m not 15-19 anymore. I am 23. I am worth more than two shitty minuets of BLAND sex. You want to be apart of POV porn so bad but you are disgusted when I try to find self pleasure. You want lacey thongs so bad but mock me when I dress up for you to entice you. You and EVERY other man can now suck my metaphorical dick. I am beautiful. I am soft to touch. I am kind. And men desire me so desperately that they spend shitty hours inside of gross bars they hate just to look at me. Say bad jokes just to hear me laugh. Although I am not your fantasy girl. Although you may not LUST after me. Although I am not what you daydream of fucking. I am someone’s. You know it because you are placed in very specific moments where they gaze at me for far too long. You watch them as they ask me about my day and love to hear me talk.

You may not treasure me the way I deserve and you may regret being caught so many times. But You will regret watching men love me louder than you ever could. You will regret putting me through these things as other men are praised the very ground I walk on.

I told you long before that I used to make men beg. That I was dominant. I’m no pillow princess. I had men crawling on the floor to be NEAR me. That I could be everything you desire just ask it of me. And now you have front row seats to seeing just how valuable I am to others. I may take you back. I may learn to forgive and let my love come back in for you. But you’ll see how pretty I really am.

[techforevil-er]

04/12-11/12/2022

Firebreak, Christmas activities and dinners (pt 1), how to work when I'm temporary (but not really).

The programme had the firebreak this week, and despite one of my teams carrying on as normal I had some time to contribute. \o/ I chose to join a group thinking how our product, which recently had its 10th birthday, would be different if it was set up now. I ran a short visioning session where everyone in the group sketched Crazy 8s and a more refined idea and merged them in small groups until it combined all the ideas. I also extracted some principles that were common to all the visions and made a quick service map w/ unanswered questions, building on a session ran by the PM who pitched the idea in the first place. Overall, it was fun but not as different as messing around with a prototype kit that one time. :)

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Team 1 wasn't working together during the firebreak but I had a random reflection on how they're doing icebreakers every day during standup mostly willingly. All it took is a point system and a vague promise of a reward at the end of the quarter. ;)

Big thanks to that Slack I don't go to anymore for recommending The Daily Stand-up Challenge cards. Some of them don't work so well for walking the board and remote so I make new ones as we go.

I need to think what I can improve when joining a team from how things have been going with Team 2. tl;dr - when I started about a month and a half ago it was meant to be a temporary situation while someone was on sick leave and/or another contractor was being recruited. Additionally, for the first two weeks I was waiting for a PM, who then left after the next two weeks. Overall I think I'm the 4th DM the Team's had in the last 6 months. So personally, I've felt a tension between not wanting to mess with the team, seeing stuff that can/needs to be iterated, and being reluctant to take up the team's time with additional process improvement activities (when another DM may want to do things differently...). I think it's generally not helped by the retros only happening monthly but the main lesson for myself when in this situation is... don't wait, and assume you'll be around indefinitely. And just do the PM things if there isn't one around. -\(-__-)/-

---

Some work social things happened! Darts, which I inexplicably suck at despite an early lead in some games, and Postal Museum trip including the Mail Rail train ride - which was super fun and you should go on! The postcodes part of the exhibit only lasts until end of December if that's your thing, but I'm sure they'll replace it with something equally fun and geeky. I also bought the most DMy magnet from the museum shop.

----

In pottery, I picked up my bowls with cat figurine, dog, and a snake planter that looks like a big poo. 🤨 Goddamn you terracotta, I wish I painted ya!

I learned a new technique, called nerikomi which is working with differently coloured clay instead (or in addition) to using glaze. I made a little bowl with an abstract pattern (which Bella the Cat can use as a water bowl), and a bigger bowl with orange pattern which I am super excited to see! I also made a big platter and a small side plate with different types of 'normal' clay - where terracotta tried to fuck me over by running and being a mare to tidy. Here's hoping it calms down in the glazing and doesn't just look dirty....

----

I went to Yauatcha with a friend. It was decent (any place that even serves prawn + beancurd cheung fun is ok in my book) but the desserts were definitely the high point.

I've been watching The Traitors - as a game it's... mediocre. But the casting is amazing. What I really want to do now is play Blood on the Clocktower, let's hope we can at the next xgov games! >:3c

The soundtrack is so camp, I lost my shit when this started playing in ep1.

Oh, and I got the exact Epik High ticket I wanted. \o/

NEXT WEEK

Taking notes at User Research sessions. Hearing insights from a popup research day. Visiting THREE departments (apart from the one I work at). At least two Christmas dinners. Eating all my advent calendar cheeses?! And the Witcher 3 remaster comes out!! \o/

[rosedustd]

i just want to say I followed you when I was 16 and I’m 24 now, I remember seeing all your posts when you had just started dating your boyfriend. I’m sorry to hear it ended. Idk where I’m going with this but just thinking lots about the passing of time and growing up and changing. sometimes I feel stuck but time will always pass and things will always change. hope you are well.

Thank you, it is a shame that it ended but he grew into a really arrogant and unpleasant person. There was some emotional and financial abuse and I’m sure he won’t even be able to admit that to himself even when it’s brought to his attention that his actions fall under the legal definition of financial abuse. It’s crazy because I was still fighting to build a life with him just four months ago, but now I’m glad it ended.

He was really sweet and wonderful as a teenage boy but he grew into a shitty man. He had this really lovely innocent quality but he traded it for arrogance, ego, porn, drugs, and greed slowly over time. I’ve learned there’s nothing you can do to stop that kind of thing. It was really hard for me to admit just how much he mistreated me and took me for granted but a few of his formerly really close friends reached out and told me they were disgusted with how he’s treated me and that really hit home because even the people you would expect to take his side, just couldn’t do it.

It’s crazy how much can change in 8 years and the immature part of me regrets giving him my “best years” and so much devotion he didn’t deserve. I wasn’t a perfect partner either but he’ll never admit how much he felt entitled to from me. As someone nearly 3 years older than you I can tell you that most men really do expect a mommy, that means chores, emotional labour, secretarial duties, caring for him while he’s sick, cooking, cleaning, helping him manage HIS friendships, grocery shopping, and access to your credit. Don’t be afraid to keep your standards HIGH.

Now that I’m in the dating scene as an adult for the first time I’m finding out that there are plenty of men and women willing to do whatever it takes to meet those standards. Hell, people of quality actually enjoy the challenge and value you more for pushing them to improve. My ex resented me for pushing him to mature and grow. He rebounded with a religious girl who seems a bit naive and is obviously lying about the bulk of his personality and habits and I worry for her. That’s been a pattern of his since I started dating him. He told me he loved me in the first week and had only split from his high school ex a few months prior.

I’ve learned never to trust somebody who love-bombs like that again. I’ve learned a lot and I’m not going to let it make me bitter but I lost a lot too. Now I’m just hoping the legal separation scares that poor girl away, even if she sees me as the horrible bitch of an ex who’s haunting her perfect man. If it gets her away from him I want her to hate me. He literally came into a bunch of money unexpectedly and wouldn’t even take his dying mother travelling like I suggested, that disgusted me so much that I don’t really miss him at all now. So emotionally I’m fine. Financially, he ruined me (for the time being).

And you are right, the only thing we can count on is change. I feel kind of stuck too, I was fighting so hard to build a life with him that I didn’t build much of a life for myself and I’m ashamed that I was that kind of girl for a while. Now I’m excited to get some justice and move on with more energy for myself than I’ve had in years! He was a total energy vampire.

I hope you are well too! I wish I had a fairytale ending to top off those nostalgic memories but life is chaotic. 🤦🏻‍♀️ (Especially when you end up with a total man-child.)

One thing I did do right was investing consistently in my friendships. I’ve never been the type to allow her entire world to revolve around a romantic partner and that has honestly saved my life. My friends are my everything and I can’t even express how thankful I am for their love. Platonic love is vital. Romantic love is really just a bonus.

[yintsukareta]

Headcanons ft. Genshin Men

note: i don't have any ideas but i'm motivated to write a fic so I made a headcanon

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Cuddle Headcanons (+ other stuff) ft. Childe, Ayato, Zhongli, Thoma, Venti, Kaeya, Diluc, Albedo & Kazuha

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Childe:

will not cuddle much in public

actually thats a lie he will cuddle a lot in public

"(name) is mine"

will make sure you feel loved

WILL ALSO CUDDLE YOU WHEN SICK

he won't mind having to spend a day sick with you

he loves you so much, take care of him for me

if he has a stressful meeting, expect him to cuddle you A LOT afterwards

his brain is like: (name) = stress relief

when you're stressed

A LOT MORE CUDDLES AND A LOT OF KISSES

cuddles are going to be very frequent for you if you're with him

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Ayato

in his workspace

you cant tell me he doesnt cuddle you a lot in his workspace

not in public tho, unless some guy is tryna hit on you

"my my, are you trying to hit on my (name)? well, better luck next time"

mmmm lots of kisses too in cuddles

cuddles in bed too

if you see he's stressed

MY GOD CUDDLE HIM HES GONNA FEEL SO MUCH BETTER

its the least you can do

ayato cuddles r very very reassuring

so he will do it when u feel sad

"its alright (name). let it out"

puts his silly coat around you

find his boba stash while u have it on

very busy but will always find time to cuddle you

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Zhongli

i dont think he cuddles much

at least i think

will cuddle you in bed, i'll tell you that

and when you're sad

i think he would give kisses more than cuddles

yeah he probably would i dont have much to say about zhongli

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Thoma

mr golden retriever

cuddles you when hes done with work

same amount of cuddles as childe

lets be real he is very affectionate

sorry not just very, SUPER affectionate

god love him

when ur sad

"what's wrong (name)?"

rubs patterns into ur back as he cuddles you

if you're not comfy with physical affection, will give you gifts

handmade gifts

by him of course

loves u very much, and will care about ur comfort

"is this okay?"

always asks if its okay to cuddle

we love thoma

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Venti

cuddles you TIGHTLY

you have to tell him you're suffocating or else you'll die /hj

he just loves you very much

will cuddle you TIGHTER when drunk

he just feels like someone who does tight cuddles

i mean most likely

cuddles you everywhere

if you're busy and you have to do something

he hugs you from behind

and then just follows you like that

actually is that even following

hes just clinging onto you

if you're shorter than him

expect that hes going to slow u down when ur working/moving

if ur taller

WEEEEEE

will def try to do that more often

you have to tell him to not if you're uncomfy

or else, like the tight cuddles

he will literally continue

OH AND HE CUDDLES A LOT IN BED

he needs u, ur his emotional support

and also his life support

he cant do anything without cuddling you at least once a day

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Kaeya

cuddles in bed

cuddles at his desk

cuddles in the tavern

those r one of the three places i think he will cuddle you at

when hes busy he'll make it up to you afterwards

oh god

tipsy kaeya cuddles

LOTS AND LOTS OF FLIRTS

YOU CANT TELL ME HE DOESNT FLIRT IN CUDDLES

IF YOU'RE EASILY EMBARRASSED BY THAT THEN OH GOD HES TEASING U A LOT

clingy

hes probably one of those types to move a lot in bed

he cuddles with you every night in bed

if he falls off the bed, you are too

wakes up on the floor with you in his arms

dont tell me he doesnt do it in public too

just not when hes doing his knightly duties

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Diluc

theres only one place he will cuddle you in

and thats in bed

sleepy cuddles <33333

he wont even do it in private

stubborn man

u have to whine and complain to him for cuddles

will give in

he cant resist ur cute face <3

never in public tho

he cant show anyone his vulnerable side

u have to wait until his shift is over until he will fulfill ur wish of cuddles

kisses a lot like zhongli tho

also gives u gifts

if u cant stand alcohol then he gives u grape juice

actually i dont think he even gives u alcohol

yeah he def will never give you alcohol no matter what

if u want it then u have to buy it /j

no but if you want free alcohol just pass by angels share and ask for it

he'll give it to you for free

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Albedo

at his camp in dragonspine

dont tell me he doesnt cuddle you there

especially when ur cold

hes a busy man so u might not get a lot of cuddles

will try to make up for it

gives u his coat if ur cold and hes busy

draws you a lot

and sometimes he does it unconsciously

u cant tell me he doesnt sketch u on accident

#habits

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Kazuha

at the crux

very comforting man

will make poems for u while cuddling

probably hums a song too

if you get seasick easily

hes ready

has buckets/bags(???) for ur vomit

medicine for dizziness

rubs ur back when ur seasick

or at least dizzy

when sad he will cuddle you a lot

he has one of the most comforting cuddles in all of teyvat

dont tell me wrong

"i will comfort you in my hands. until you are strong enough to stand"

idk man but hes making up small haikus on the spot to try to make u feel better

gives u some advice for ur trouble

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Masterlist

Do NOT repost my work without permission.

[keilemlucent]

some 👀thoughts about rut keigo and sick reader 👀

thinking about... how soft he’d be. you’re expecting a week of fucking until the point of pain, but instead you get a hopelessly devoted, sweetened keigo. all-prettied up from his rut, but far more interested in tending to you and your illness than his other 👀needs

(nsfw)

keigo is remarkably well-prepared for his rut. he’s had them for long enough to know the ins and outs of the… experience. his apartment is stocked. ready-made meals and frozen leftovers for quick meals between fucks. at least six brands of lubed tucked away into different corners of the penthouse just incase you end up fucking somewhere other than the center of keigo’s ‘nest’.

speaking of his nest—

the whole apartment is the nest, really. feathers and bits of him settled and spread around. the heart of it is his massive bed, piled with sheets and pillows, all covered in his scent. he’d been prepping it for weeks.

he’d given you a good rundown, giving you fair warning, and you felt fairly at ease with the whole process. get fucked within every inch of your life and then have your sweet, bird bf

pamper you.

it all goes according to plan until you come down with something the day before his rut is supposed to start.

you try to ward it off. you steam yourself in a hot shower or two, chug herbal tea and lemon. it doesn’t touch the growing fever, chills, and headache you develop. your last attempt is a long nap, but not before sending keigo a quick text, ‘hey babe, i’m not feeling so good, but i’ll be good by tomorrow 😤”

you wake up to his shadow looming over your bed, eyes bright and alert. the moment you’re awake, he’s checking you over. tilting your jaw every which way, shoving his nose against your pulse point, inhaling and licking.

you shudder, his spit and cold sweat mixing.

“you’re sick.”

obviously.

he’s quick to gather your things. you’d already packed a few overnight bags, and a few of  your own comfort items to add to the nest. when keigo notices the little pile of your favorite, soft clothes and plushies, his feathers puff up and shudder.

he drives you to his, keeping a hand on you the entire car ride. he doesn’t make unnecessary conversation, which would’ve thrown you off if you weren’t roasting in the passenger’s seat.

when you get to keigo’s, he’s carrying you off to the nest. you appreciate how plush it is, even if your stupor. it’s comforting, the smell of him surrounding you (you vaguely remember keigo mentioning something about pheromones, but the thought rolls by in passing.)

“i’m going to change you out of these clothes, okay?” keigo’s smooths a taloned-hand up your thigh, playing with the waistband of your pants.

oh.

“don’t you need to fuck me?” you asked, a little raspy and weak.

keigo pauses, smoothing his thumbs over your hip bones.

“i need to breed you,” his pupils visibly dilate. “fuck a baby right here.”

his hand settles of your lower belly pressing down with the slightest pressure. you wince and go to grab his hand, but he quickly snatches your wrist. he shushes you.

“but i can’t really do that when my dove isn’t feeling good, right?”

no, he really couldn’t.

so instead he takes such good care of you, it makes you wish he’d knock you up.

he changes you into his clothes, they reek of him in the best way. the combination of his sweat, old cologne and rut musk choked you in the best way. it settled you into the sheets. keigo looks smitten about it, wings big and on display. they arch over you, even more gorgeous than normal.

the feathers look a bit darker... no, richer. the color of a good red wine that coats your mouth and goes down easy. the feathers look broader, sleek and nearly shining. they were normally fairly plain, but even with your fever, you could make out somewhat of a pattern in the layered feathers.

keigo takes it to dote on you the entirety of his rut. and honestly? it’s so, so sweet. 

he’s always on you. holding you, touching you, tracing little shapes into your skin with his talons or rubbing patterns deep into the knots of tension you hold. he feeds you the little meals he prepared and morsels of precut fruits. 

he chirps and coos the whole time, expression relaxed and doughy, even if you can see his cock straining in his sweats half the time. 

he satiates those desires (though, he exists they’re far-more quiet than a normal rut) with stealing different types of contact. he licks up your cold sweat, or the spare drops of fruit-sticky spit that slip from the corners of your lips. it’s a little gross, sure, but there’s something of him and his big pretty wings that has you lulled and content. 

he sucks dark marks into your neck just as often as he dots the skin with little kisses. it’s an ownership thing, ‘this is my mate and don’t you dare fucking touch them’. though you aren’t leaving the penthouse, it still settles something in your chest.

his, his, his.

you sickness wanes near the end of his rut. just enough time for him to breed you for a good twelve hours. the post-sickness already had you worn out, and the rough fucking just means some extra lovely pampering. though, this time, it’s shared. <3

[sanrioluversincebirth]

I heard you needed requests👀

I was wondering if I could ask for bakugo x reader where reader is cleaning their room and is listening to jealousy,jealousy by Olivia Rodrigo and sings along to it. Bakugo passes by and hears reader singing/yelling the part “ all I see what I should be, happier, prettier. Jealousy jealousy” and he like busts down the door or something. How ever you want to end it, is completely up to you💕 please and thank you!!🥺✋

OMG YES THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR BEING MY FIRST REQUEST💕💕💕

Jealousy?

✎Summary: After a harsh way of finding out your partner is cheating on you, it gives bakugo a chance to confess.

✎ Character(s): Bakugo x GN!reader

✎CW: gender-neutral reader, Angst to fluff, mentions of cheating :(

You slammed the door of your dorm and jumped on the bed. You should've known, late messages, always busy, and then ghosting you until you catch him at the mall with another girl. Why didn't you see it coming? You weren't crying tho, you had more important things to do. Your room was a mess, all the stress they've caused you have your room looking like a stampede of rhinos ran through it.

Clothes on the floor, empty chip bags, trash everywhere, and just an all-over mess. No wonder he dumped you, your quite unorganized. You turned your tv on to music you just recently found on TikTok. Some girl named Olivia Rodrigo seemed like she was going through the same thing you are. Your current favorite song is Jealousy, Jealousy. It definitely sounds like it was made exactly for your situation.

As it played you started cleaning up your room, putting things in piles for later, and organizing clean and dirty clothes. "I kinda wanna throw my phone across the room, 'Cause all I see are girls too good to be true, With paper-white teeth and perfect bodies Wish I didn't care" The lyrics speaking to you as if they were hugging you. Telling you they'd comfort you in your pain and sulking right now.

"I know that beauty is not my lack, But it feels like that weight is on my back, And I can't let it go" Hearing this makes you think back to the girl you saw with him. She didn't look like you at all but she totally wasn't better looking than you, I mean the average girl with the everyday fit, you had way more style. "What a downgrade," you whispered to yourself.

What you didn't realize though was that your music was really loud, it's a couple hours after you got here, and your sulking and overthinking took up some time to where it's evening now. Everyone was quite confused hearing this type of music come from your room, but they opted to mind their business instead of checking on you.

"Co-comparison is killin' me slowly, I think, I think too much, 'Bout, kids who don't know me, I'm so sick of myself, I'd rather be, rather be, Anyone, anyone else, But jealousy, jealousy, Started followin' me (he-he-he, he-he), Started followin' me (he-he-he, he-he)" Now it's starting to get to you, these lyrics are so powerful against you.

You start to pick up on the song and sing in a low tone. That's until this happens. "All I see is what I should be, Happier, prettier, jealousy, jealousy, All I see is what I should be, I'm losin' it, all I get's, jealousy, jealousy" You were so in the moment that you didn't even realize you were screaming the lyrics louder than the song. The words taking over your body, letting all your emotions pour from your eyes and mouth.

It was a bad day to have dorms right next to Bakugo, having him bust in the door almost breaking it. "What's wrong, why are you screaming?!" He says frantically. His shacky and scattered breath pattern tells you that he was worried. You quickly look at him, tears streaming down your face, eyes red and puffy from all your crying.

"Oh uh, I guess I didn't realize I was that loud, sorry." You said in a low tone. "Why are you crying..." He says shutting the door. "Well it's a long story, are you sure you want to hear it..." You said nervously. "Yea" As soon as he said that you poured your whole heart out of what you saw and the aching you've been feeling.

You and bakugo were good friends, he never seemed like the type to comfort so it took you by surprise when he hugged you as you broke down. You hugged back, really tight. When he pulled you back he looked like he was holding back something. "Well... is something wrong with you too?" you said concerningly "Yea, I've been meaning to get this off my chest for a while but..." He took a deep breath and continued

"Well I've had this crush on you for the longest time and I know you just got out of your relationship but I would like to take you out and maybe if you like me like I like you we could be a couple" he mumbled with a look as if he was waiting on you to reject him. "Of course," you said willingly. His face is laced with surprise and happiness as he engulfs you in a hug.

It's been months since this ordeal happened and you aren't mourning the loss of your ex anymore, now that you realize it, he was much better than your ex. You and Bakugo started dating officially 2 months after your breakdown. he's so glad that he has you as a s/o.

OMG THIS TOOK ABT AN HOUR BUT MY GOSH DID I LIKE IT SO MUCH AGAIN THANK YOU FOR BEING MY FIRST REQUEST I HOPE I LIKE IT

[ike-bana]

Blueberry cheesecake(Yelena x fem!Reader drabble)

Requested by :@checkeredass

Cw : None! This is just fluff and corny writing. Yelana might be ooc here

words: 700+

A/N: This is the first time I'm writing something like this,I've never written fem character x fem reader,so it may not be the best. I just wanted to try something for @checkeredass since they seemed polite and I basically love(d) Yelena so what the hey. This doesn't mean y'all should spam my asks with similar requests because I want stuff like this to be a once in a blue moon type of thing since I may not be good with them. I was having trouble making this a hc so I made it a drabble

You gently plopped down on the checkered pattern clothe as your girlfriend joined after. The swift cool afternoon breeze that blew brought a sense of tranquility as the trees danced in tune with the wind speed , their amber leaves falling steadily. The water from the transparent lake rippled unremittingly as the sun shone dully on it, partially obstructed by the formless blobs of cotton candy called clouds.A perfect day for a picnic. You moved closer to her as you laid your head on her shoulders. Her slender pinky touched yours clumsy as you intertwined your fingers,fitting together perfectly like a final puzzle piece. You both enjoyed the comforting silence, not needing words to tarnish this moment,as moments like this were as scarce as hen's teeth. But like they say all good things must come to an end.

You shifted a little as you stared at the transparent body of water in front of you,she caught your gaze and gave a small visible smile.

"You wanna go in?" she asked as if she could read your mind.

"Yup!, you coming too?" You affirmed

"No, I'll pass, you go on ahead"

"you sure?" you looked at her with a slight frown

"yeah,I am" She confirmed, ignoring your puppy dog eyes

You pouted as you wished she could have agreed to join you.Nevertheless,you shed off all your articles clothing,leaving you in your undergarments. You carefully dipped your toe in before immersing your full body in the water.

"You sure you don't wanna come in?,the water's really cool and the weather's freaking hot"

"I already told you Y/N,I'll pass" She said in mock annoyance,rolling her large eyes playfully .

You stared at her and thought for a bit before an idea popped into your ever-scheming head. You grinned mischievously as you swam acloser to the shore. You cupped your (hand size) hands and gathered as much water as your hands could carry and tossed it at the blonde woman in front of you.If it were anyone else,they'd probably be fuming but Yelena only smirked at this

"Oh,you've done it now" She shook her head and stood up from her cross-legged position.

You smiled innocently but you knew what was coming next;before you knew it,droplets of water came hurling at your face. Wanting to retaliate,you grabbed the tall woman by her pant leg and dragged her into the water with you causing her to fall with a loud splash. Her smirk only grew wider as she pushed some water towards you earning a tiny squeal from you. You mirrored her action and it soon turned into a huge water fight.

You laughed excitedly as she tossed the last one at you,you raised your arms up in defeat,letting her win this round

"OK,OK,I yield"

"Thought you wouldn't"

You both burst out into fits of laughter at your earlier display of childishness,your spastic laughter was brought to a end when you noticed her silence. You caught her staring at your (l/c) lips. She swam closer to you and you the same,planting your lips against each other. Her hands settled on your hips and yours in her short hair. You soon had to part to take in some air.

"Come on let's get out it's getting cold" Yelena suggested when she finally caught her breath

"Aww,is my poor baby afraid of catching a cold" you teased

"Pfft,I'm more worried about you then myself" she retorted

" oh please I barely get sick"

" yeah right,save it for the judge" she rolled her eyes for the nth time that afternoon

Grabbing your waist,she proceeded to carry you out of the lake despite your protests. She gently threw you on the shore and you let out a tiny squeak when your bottom hit the ground. She couldn't help but laugh and you didn't hold yours back either. You both panted,trying to catch your breaths. When you had calmed down,her eyes caught something in the distance

" There's an icecream truck over there,want some?"

"Oh yeah! I could really go for some (favorite ice cream),how about you?"

"Blueberry cheesecake would be nice" she smiled staring into the distance