#my mother used to call me fat when i was young even though I've been underweight like forever

[dalroti]

My body will be like *takes 6 months to gain 1 kg* *loses it in 2 days*

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

WIBTA if I told my trans friend that I don't like the comments she's making on my transition and why?

Tw for dysphoria and bodyshaming?

I am non-binary transmasc, and my friend is binary transfemme. I don't have terrible dysphoria, it fluctuates, but she absolutely does. She's very upset that she won't be able to start hrt for a while because she lives with her parents and they absolutely will not accept her and she doesn't want to be kicked out. I, however, started low dose testosterone a few months ago. She was happy for me like everyone else in our friend group, but she's said and done a few things that make me uncomfortable for multiple reasons.

My mother started making comments about my body at a very young age, everything from gender presentation to my weight. As soon as I started my first puberty, she started taking me to get my eyebrows and upper lip waxed, she said I needed to exercise more to not gain weight, but mostly she made comments about herself. My mother constantly talked about how she was "fat" in front of me, how it made her ugly and basically how she was ashamed of her body. I've had to do a lot of healing from all of that, learning how bodies naturally exist and how to be comfortable in my skin, even though the gender dysphoria is still there.

Now, back to my friend, when I started T, she started looking at me differently. One time when we were hanging out, she stared at my face multiple times, even leaning closer to me, and when I asked what she was doing, she 'complimented' me on how my mustache was growing in. Another time, I was wearing shorts and she said that obviously the T was working because my leg hair was getting darker. I haven't shaved my legs since well before I met this friend and it's always been dark, the T isn't responsible for that. On top of that, she keeps calling herself "fat" and ugly, like the two words are synonyms, in front of our entire friend group, one of whom is bigger than her and is on a forced diet from his mom. We've all asked her to stop calling herself fat, because it's not true and it's making us all uncomfortable.

Because she hasn't started hrt and she has a history of romanticizing things, I'm really worried about what these comments mean. It feels like she believes that once she starts estrogen, all of her dysphoria will melt away and she'll become this thin, hairless doll of a woman, even though body hair is something everyone deals with past puberty and all of us don't see anything wrong with her build/weight. I'm almost worried that her starting hrt will make her dysphoria worse if her misconceptions continue.

I want to talk to her about this, but she has a lot of dysphoria, as well as really bad rejection sensitivity. I don't want to come across as an asshole, even if *I* feel the conversation needs to happen. WIBTA?

What are these acronyms?

[musicarenagh]

Come Along As We Join Fat Bottomed Boys To Sing 'La La La' We would all agree to the fact inspiration comes in different forms, but when it comes to “The Sgt.,” who is the singer for Fat Bottomed Boys, you would be marveled to know his source of inspiration. In a recent interview with Mister Styx of Musicarenagh he disclosed where his inspiration comes from “I find inspiration in everyday life. My dog, my son, my love stories, the people who annoy me.” You might find this strange, but when you listen to the music of “Fat Bottomed Boys” you will understand this better, to make this easier, let me introduce you to their latest single which is titled “La La La” In a way you can say “Fat Bottomed Boys” is the reincarnation of the band “Queens,” yet their sound is true and original. The duo creates retro music that carries you away and takes you on a musical journey of bliss, wonderful instrumentation, and breathtaking lyrics. "La La La" channels the spirit of Queen, particularly the iconic songwriting of drummer Roger Taylor, while bringing a captivating modernity to their music. In the interview, The Sgt. shed more light on his musical growth and some of the challenges he has faced on his musical journey, join us as we uncover who The Sgt. is outside of music. Listen to La La La below https://open.spotify.com/album/2iI72dJUCLydcVPgLow42l Follow Fat Bottomed Boys on Facebook Spotify Soundcloud Bandcamp Youtube Instagram Tiktok What is your stage name? People call me The Sgt. Is there a story behind your stage name? It's simply my surname. Here's the scoop: my real name is Thibaut Sergent. Where do you find inspiration? I find inspiration in everyday life. My dog, my son, my love stories, the people who annoy me. Anything can be a pretext for a song, you just have to find the right angle. What was the role of music in the early years of your life? Music has played a major role in my life. A whole new world opened up to me when I discovered Queen at the age of 9, and I immediately became a 'fan'. Since then, there's nothing that drives me more than trying to follow in the footsteps of my idols. Are you from a musical or artistic family? Not at all! And I didn't have the chance to go to music school, learn music theory or play an instrument when I was young. I learnt the rudiments of the guitar when I was a teenager. In fact, I learned to play like a right-handed person, even though I'm left-handed, because the only guitar I had was a right-handed one. The same goes for singing and the ukulele: I'm self-taught. Who inspired you to be a part of the music industry? I think it's impossible not to mention Queen, who remain my absolute role model. But I also have a lot of admiration for The Beatles, The Doors, Led Zeppelin, Pink Floyd, Oasis, Jet... [caption id="attachment_52591" align="alignnone" width="2000"] I think it's impossible not to mention Queen, who remain my absolute role model. But I also have a lot of admiration for The Beatles,[/caption] How did you learn to sing/write/to play? All by myself! I've been writing lyrics since I was a teenager. Initially, they weren't songs. In fact, I'm very keen on writing short stories, and I've also started writing a novel. Writing songs is a bit different. The first difficulty is writing in English, which is not my mother tongue. But it allows me to find - I think - simple and effective phrases, which is perfect for rock music. What was the first concert that you ever went to and who did you see perform? My first concert was The Offspring, in March 2004. I skipped school to go with my best friend. I was in the front row, having never been to a concert before, I started off with a punk-rock concert, complete with pogos, slams and all that. Crazy atmosphere! How could you describe your music? Our music is a tribute to our favorite band, Queen, through original compositions. If you hate Queen, you're unlikely to like the music of Fat Bottomed Boys. If you love Queen... Go and listen to our 4 albums!

Describe your creative process. There isn't really a predefined recipe. Everyone writes and composes, even if we all have our own pre-dispositions and personal preferences. A song can be born from a guitar riff, a piano melody or pre-existing lyrics. In the end, it's Elash, our maestro, who takes care of the arrangements that make the songs sound like Queen. What is your main inspiration? Queen, of course! What musician do you admire most and why? At the risk of sounding like a mono-maniac, Freddie Mercury, Brian May, Roger Taylor and John Deacon. They managed to create music for over 20 years, without ever repeating themselves. They mixed genres, they managed to make complex music popular, and took music to the next level. And then on stage, what a show! Did your style evolve since the beginning of your career? I'd say that with Fat Bottomed Boys, the more time passes, the more freedom we give ourselves. We're not trying to imitate Queen, or reproduce this or that song. Sometimes a song doesn't sound like Queen, and that's fine. That was unthinkable at the very beginning of the project. Who do you see as your main competitor? We are fortunate to be the only group to explore this concept. Maybe because it's a bad idea? I'm joking! Queen fans can be very demanding and sometimes a bit narrow-minded, when it's not the great Freddie Mercury himself. It's impossible to compete with the absolute master and so... I think our biggest rivals are Queen! What are your interests outside of music? I love stories, which is why I like writing and watching movies. I also like to eat. I like to eat *too* much. That's why I do sport: to avoid becoming a Fat Bottomed Boy. And I love dogs. If it wasn't a music career, what would you be doing? Music is not my main profession. I'm an industrial IT engineer. That's why we have to become rock stars: I can't do this job any more! What is the biggest problem you have encountered in the journey of music? Our biggest problem is expanding our audience. It's very difficult these days to find a place among the plethora of music available on streaming platforms. Generally speaking, when people listen to our music, it doesn't leave them indifferent... But we still have to reach the ears of our potential listeners. If you could change one thing in the music industry, what would it be? No longer to consider music as a commercial and consumable object. And to focus on quality. Why did you choose this as the title of this project? Fat Bottomed Boys is a direct reference to a Queen song: Fat Bottomed Girls. As we're not girls, we had to change the name a little. https://open.spotify.com/artist/6eLVGiLUu5Jf2aV8lanHp5 What are your plans for the coming months? Our 4th album 'Haters Gonna Hate' will be released on 24 November 2023. We will be promoting this new album on the next months. Concerts are planned in Paris, Lille and London. And we've already got tracks for our 5th album, which will almost certainly be the soundtrack to a novel by our friend Craig Mulhall, an Australian author. Do you have any artistic collaboration plans On our album 'Haters Gonna Hate', we recorded a duet with the band Secret Garden & The Dusty Man. They play bluegrass, and it wasn't an obvious collaboration, since our styles aren't very compatible at first sight. But that's the magic of music: the track that came out of this collaboration is one of the highlights of the album. What message would you like to give to your fans? Where are you? Fat Bottomed Boys will be in concert in London on November 26th at The Fighting Cocks. More info on fatbottomedboys.fr

[serephinastardust]

Mother and daughter lament

Growing up female is hard,

Raising a female is worst.

The constant comparing,

To all those around you,

No matter the era its true.

My girls, please stop comparing,

You know I will never judge your size.

Just know genetics will be favorable.

For you...

A twig means starvation,

Anemic or bulimic.

Here's what my childhood shows.

Not twiggy or skinny or perfect.

Overweight and thick I always was.

From swimming to softball,

To musicals and colorguard,

I was doing it all.

When puberty hit my fat disappeared,

Gaining curves and boobs and butt,

I struggled with my own self image,

A demon still latched to me now,

Always called fat by family,

I didn't realize I blossomed so well,

From ugly duckling to swan,

So you have alot to anticipate still.

My girls, so young,

Don't grow up yet, please,

Though genetics will bless you,

I fear you won't see it,

And forever compare what you see.

Being a female is hard,

Society is evil, its the truth,

The perfect body will never exist.

Being a female is not a competition,

Across the world, I make this promise,

Eating well, and being active,

Is the best body for all.

So I beg you my girls,

Don't let this demon latch on you,

It's whispers are extremely dangerous.

I hope my words and prayers protect you.

The last thing I want,

For my vision to see,

Are demons like mine latch on you.

My girls, please smile,

My girls, please stop comparing,

My girls, please stay you, all your life,

My girls, my girls, beautiful girls.

Remember being female is hard,

Remember society is evil,

Remember you own your image,

Remember our home is free of judgement.

Remember I'm weighed down by these things.

Remember I'll help, just use your voice.

And finally your life if your choice.

‐--------

(Poem inspiration/backstory)

This came to me today, after my 6y daughter freaked out because her jeans weren't fitting right. The back of her pants kept lifting off her back, giving her the feeling that they were too loose. And had to search for some childhood pictures of myself to prove that I was never skinny. It took until puberty for me loose belly fat.

What I didn't tell her was I grew up being called fat, mainly from father, so when I became a beautiful young women, i felt ugly. I was always about 150lbs from elementary to now. But always active. I never understood that my thickness was because of muscles, i never understood strong muscles were heavier than muscles. I was scared of looking muscular. It was only in the last few years, I got that demon to shut its ugly face. Though it keeps trying to speak me. And this past year was the worst with my demons. I've been slowly losing my desire to eat, it's hard to find food I can enjoy without getting sick of it. Things I used to like a month or two ago make me figuratively sick. And working out at the gym has born no obvious signs of change because I can't properly eat. I know I'm not fat, fat. Having 4 kids weakening the ab muscles and all. But having stubborn, is self doubt inducing. Even if I'm 20xs stronger than I was a year ago.

I hope my girls ages 7 and 3, will never struggle like I do at age 32 with body image, and feeling right about myself. I pray they dont try and compare themselves to their brothers, one a twig but can easily hold 170lbs, the other with meat on his bones but probably just as strong.

[krethes]

[1/2] Excerpt from Chapter 15 of Did You Miss Me?

Read Chapter 15 or Start at Chapter One

"You're bigger," [Walburga] tutted, measuring tape around his waist. "Are letting your image slip, just coasting by on our good name? You won't be young like this forever, Sisi. I arrange everything for you. The least you can do is mind your physique!" "You have got to be joking," Sirius muttered, looking down at his washboard abs. "If I've increased any, it's all muscle." "If you're putting on this much muscle, then your regimen is wrong," Walburga tutted. "Sisi is supposed to be svelte, not bulky. Sculpted. Your costumes are not going to fit at this rate." "It's half an inch," Sirius protested. "They'll fit fine!" Walburga shot him a dry look. "You," she scolded, smacking him sharply with the end of the tape, "do not make the costumes. You have no idea what goes into making sure you look good on those stages." "It is physically impossible for me to look bad," Sirius muttered. At this point, taking a good photo was just instinctual for Sirius. He knew how to turn his face and angle his body for the most flattering light. Even when he was a mess, his gaze would seduce the camera and a bird's nest could turn into sexy bedhead, a wrinkled t-shirt into a fashion statement. Sirius could strut out onto the stage in a patchwork onesie and look good. Half an inch added to his waist was not going to ruin that. "I'll be talking with Hooch about changing up your exercise schedule," Walburga continued, ignoring him completely. "More cardio, I think. You're growing fat and slovenly. And your diet. Have you been indulging in carbs? I told Bellatrix she needed to rein in her puffiness, but it looks like you should have been the one to get that lesson." She pinched his waist with her sharp nails. "Do you ever have anything nice to say?" Sirius asked, more to himself, though the words did slip out aloud. Walburga looked affronted. "You are my son!" she declared. "I love you! I'm only trying to help you, Sisi!" "Really." Sirius didn't buy her words, not for a moment. "I have a gift for you." Walburga turned away from him, going to the door and calling for a maid. After a few minutes, she returned with, sure enough, a wrapped package. "Go on, open it. I was going to save it for Christmas, but it seems like you need the self-esteem lift now." Sirius accepted the package warily. The metallic silver paper was tied with a curly green ribbon, and it was soft and squishable beneath his fingers. Clothes, he suspected, though why it wasn't in a gift box was beyond him. Gifts were not unheard of in the Black family. What better way to prove affection than by purchasing an excessive amount of things? It was easier than physical affection and less messy than meaningful experiences. Gifts were the Blacks' version of love. Sirius unwrapped the package. The paper was too thick to tear open, not that ripping paper was approved of. Far too messy, made for a bad photo. He dropped the paper to his pile of discarded clothes, frowning at the underwear he was left holding. "You got me… pants?" As far as Black gifts went, this was a bit unusual. Clothes, yes, frequently. But underwear was usually reserved for sexy lingerie for the girls, not black boxer briefs with, as far as Sirius could tell, no suggestive cut or indecent holes for the boys. "They have separate pockets," Walburga explained, pointing out the pouches in the front of the pants. "For lift and support." "...you got me pants," Sirius repeated incredulously. "To lift and support my dick?" "And scrotum," Walburga said, and Sirius definitely did not need his mother to ever use the word 'scrotum' in his presence ever again. "It will help enhance the look in your trousers. Think of it like a pushup bra for the male genitals." "A pushup bra," Sirius repeated. He glanced down at his own boxer briefs which, yes, were also black, but the ones he was currently wearing did not have separate pockets to tuck his balls into. They did, however, have a rather large bulge in the front: Sirius had been blessed with a large package, as his fans were more than happy to discuss in great detail, with

photoshopped rulers and enhanced photos arguing over whether he tucked left or right. (One particularly horrific early photoshoot had Bellatrix with an absurd amount of camel toe and Sirius' trousers practically painted on, they were so tight and stretchy. It remained, to this day, a fan favourite.) "Mother, I don't need help accentuating… anything." "Don't be absurd," Walburga said. "Everyone can use a little help." "Isn't there a point where a dick is too big?" "Not in photos, darling." Walburga patted his chest, the tips of her nails pricking against his skin. "Merry Christmas, Sisi. I hope this boosts your spirits."

Chapter 16 coming ~7 AM EST Feb 4!

[blackgirlsuperherorants]

I deleted last night's personal post, but I have had time to think and I'm ready to talk about it, again. If anyone has experience with narcissists, please chime in, because I'm convinced my brother legitimately has NPD.

These are the signs:

Centers himself at the expense of others.

No empathy. None. Like, my Dad sobbed "He wants me dead" and "*brother's name* hates me" and he doesn't care and is unmoved. Even walking around happily like he got what he wanted. Mind you, my dad JUST got out of the hospital on Christmas Eve and has pneumonia. (He said "If he dies, it won't be my fault. Dad made poor food choices his entire life." ... Pneumonia isn't caused by fatness, my Dad isn't fat, and my brother is a former fat kid, so it's sick that he'd even say something so callous.)

Plays the victim even while actively causing harm, and frames himself as righteous for the pain he is inflicting.

Uses eternal victimhood to get what he wants from my mother, who desperately loves him and would do anything for him, then flips on the entire family when he doesn't get his way (Dad asked him to return their second car back in October.)

Silent treatment for months so he can make someone confront him and then proudly announce that he is doing it because he's "setting a boundary" against the family, even though he lives in my parents' house. (Took this so far that my dad was in the hospital and he would go sit in the hospital room with my dad when no one else was there and purposefully not speak to him for hours. My dad was cognitive and able to speak the whole time, and me and my other siblings would go and keep him company. He stole time we could have had just to show my dad that he still wouldn't talk to him. Like an asshole.)

Accusing people of being abusive and irrational for having emotional responses to his mistreatment of them.

Accusing our oldest brother of being abusive for begging him to speak to him on Christmas day. (Our oldest brother has 2 kids who are teen and young adult, he's never even spanked them, doesn't really yell at them, nothing. They're both well adjusted, and his son, who is a few years younger than me, has a salaried job at a mortgage company and he's only 23.)

Very all or nothing. Very "you're either good or a monster". He pretends not to remember heartfelt conversations my Dad, my Mom and I have had with him. Only pretended our second oldest brother was good because he was trying to be on his side (he doesn't live in the same state and barely has contact with narc brother, so hasn't experienced any of this.) Refuses to see my Dad as good, because he's framed Dad as the monster, and me and my Mom are now bad because we don't hate my Dad with him.

Frames himself as more enlightened than everyone else and refuses to take responsibility for the pain he causes, or even care about us.

Embellishes how awful we have always treated him and even slanders us to his friends (which I've always suspected... and didn't have proof of until he started telling me that I treated him poorly, when I've spent most of my life desperately trying to make him happy, all while feeling his disdain towards me.) Also uses this to make you feel like you have to do things for him because he's so traumatized and hurt. He's also gay (I'm bisexual, btw) and uses it as a weapon, which is so gross. My parents accepted him like 15 years ago. My siblings and I are Gen-X and Millennials, and so are already super pro-LGBTQ+. Even though my other siblings are heterosexual. Like, our second oldest brother makes pro-LGBTQ TikToks (as well as other social justice stuff.) Our oldest sister is the first person he came out to and has been in his corner from the beginning. But he still uses this as some kind of leverage "You guys never accepted me! I'm always treated differently!" ??? Literally no? And I've called him out before for treating me like a homophobe when I've been out since I was like 19, but he still uses that shit to manipulate sympathy. My parents LET HIS BOYFRIEND SPEND THE NIGHT. IN HIS ROOM. They wouldn't even let my straight siblings do that with their opposite sex partners, because they didn't want him to think they didn't approve of him having a boyfriend. But I digress.

I spent last night begging him to let me have a relationship with him, but afterwards, I realized that that's how manipulative, abusive boyfriends act. They want you to plead with them to love you. And I started to realize he was showing what seem like signs of narcissism.

Does ANYBODY have any advice, or has anyone experienced this? Most people talk about narcissistic parents or partners. But what about siblings? I don't want him around my parents. I don't want to speak with him ever again. He's still in their house, but swears he's leaving. I don't want to know someone who says "If he dies he dies" about my father, and who invents a false abuse story (he told us that my Dad would come home from work in a rage and beat everyone. Y'all. My Dad literally never did that. Never. And he NEVER hit my Mom. We had a relatively fun childhood. I don't know how to make it clear that this is made up so that he can play the victim. It's like he saw this in a movie or on TV and was like "yeah, my Dad did that." I'm almost sure he believes it, too.)

I also feel like he's trying to blame his lack of success on my parents. He tried to say all of my Dad's 5 kids are failures. It's literally not true. We're all doing pretty well, and even when we've struggled, we've been pretty resilient. Between us we have 3 BAs, 1 MFA, 1 JD, 1 cosmetology license. He's literally the only one that hasn't settled on a path or even completed undergrad (my oldest sister did cosmetology instead of college, but she also finished!!!)

I mean... is this narcissism? Is it just lashing out? Either way, I'm not going to talk to him again.

[lesetoilesfous]

The smell of freshly baked bread + Zevran/Anders (I've never considered that ship before! I'm curious)

I’m so glad you requested this, thank you! I think they’re fun. I love to imagine both polyamorous scenarios with the Warden, and dirty weekends at The Pearl for thiese two...This one is pre-relationship, but I hope you like it!

(If you’d like me to write you a dragon age fic, send me a prompt from here!)

@dadrunkwriting​

Pairing: ZevrAnders

Characters: Zevran, Anders

Tags: pre-relationship, allusion to past torture, allusion to past starvation, casual polyamory

Rating: Mature

There are very few things better than the smell of freshly baked bread. One of them is Talen: the specific blend of leather and wood polish he uses to work his bow, a smell that Zevran cannot taste without a bone deep sense of safety, even in the most outlandish of environs. Another is Antivan leather, the rich, stinking, choking scent of tanning, smoky and so heavy in the air that it feels like you can touch it. But freshly baked bread: to a man who had more than once flirted with starving to death, was a very special kind of paradise. 

So Zevran follows his nose, out of the main hall of the Vigil and down towards the kitchens and the scent of baking wheat, feeling his mouth water even after all these years, even now, when he always knew where his next meal would come from, and how to get it if he didn’t. Zevran walks past the soldiers of the Vigil in a daze: the only person who’d likely catch his attention at this point is Mahariel, and he’s working on training the recruits. 

(Recruit, singular, the Howe boy who Talen claims Zevran does not have the patience to deal with, yet. Zevran’s answer, that the boy would learn, had not been accepted by his all-too-patient lover. Yet despite his best efforts, Zevran could not resent him for it. After all, it was Mahariel’s generosity of spirit that had seen him not only survive a contract on a Grey Warden but find his freedom, and there were very few Crows who could say the same.) 

The soldiers and walls of the Vigil blur into a river of greys and browns as Zevran follows his nose to the kitchen, ears ringing when he’s close enough with the familiar percussive cacophony of rattling pans, slamming doors and sizzling roots. A pair of young mabari are crouched by the door to the kitchens, whining, and a skinny ginger tabby is perched on the wall above them, watching them warily. Zevran’s mouth lifts in a small smile as he regards them, before setting his hand on the iron handle to the door and pressing on the latch.

At the exact same moment, another hand touches his. 

Zevran reacts on instinct, pressing a dagger to what he had assumed was the height of an elvhen stomach and instead pushes into the too-thin meat of a skinny thigh. At the same time, the (very tall) figure beside him yelps, stumbling backwards - which in turn startles the mabari and the cat. The mabari start barking, great whooping yelps, and the cat disappears in a flash of red fur. Zevran glares at the human beside him as if that will save face for the utterly stupid lack of judgement that had let - what, a mage? Sneak up on him. Ice runs cold into Zevran’s stomach as he considers how firmly deceased he would have been if this man were anyone else, and the taste of freshly baked bread dissipates in his mouth.

The mage, for his part, with long blonde hair tied back from his face and a rickety wooden excuse for a staff, holds up two long crooked hands in an open gesture of surrender. “Sorry! Sorry, sorry, sorry, I didn’t mean, I didn’t see you -”

Attempting to collect himself, Zevran sheaths his knife. This man is no threat to him, judging by the way his long, skinny limbs are shaking. He forces an exhale, pushes a non-existent strand of hair out of his face, and tries to ignore the cold sweat on his back, painting on a smile. “No, it is I who should apologise. You... gave me a fright.”

The mage nods, and swallows, glancing between Zevran and the door to the kitchen. “The feeling’s mutual.” Slowly, he stands and brushes down his - skin tight suede - robes, before holding out a hand. “I’m Anders, by the way.”

Zevran takes his hand, and is surprised by how firm Anders’ grip is when he shakes. “Zevran. You are one of the recruits?”

Anders’ thin lips pull up at one corner, as if at some private joke. The smile doesn’t reach his eyes. “Something like that.” At Zevran’s questioning gaze, he clarifies. “I’m an apostate. And given a choice between a quick death and a slow one, I chose getting eaten by Darkspawn.” Anders’ lips twist, and his fingers flex as he lowers his hand.

Zevran very deliberately does not think about Talen, and what will happen when his Calling comes for him. The mage, Anders, puts his hand on the door handle, then seems to catch himself. “Oh, but I’m not dangerous. Like, I’m not a blood mage. I just.” He shrugs, an awkward movement of his too-thin, broad shoulders. “Don’t like being cooped up.” He offers Zevran another humourless smile. Then he opens the door with a faint click.

There’s a broad, fat woman inside the kitchens, and when she sees them she beams at Anders, her cheeks red with the heat that wafts out of the room in waves of sweet-smelling steam. “Anders! I should have known it was you causing such a commotion.”

Anders’ sharp shoulders drop as he makes eye contact with the woman, and he steps away from Zevran quickly, crossing the space to drop a kiss onto her cheek. “Sarah. Sorry about that, I, um -”

He glances back at Zevran, and she follows his gaze. Zevran gives them both a wave, and then a flourishing bow, because it amuses him. “Zevran Arainai, Antivan Crow.” He grins when both of them startle, “I am not here in a professional capacity.”

The mage, Anders, has moved to stand between Sarah and Zevran - which Zevran thinks is either brave or stupid, considering how awkwardly he holds himself, and how easy it would be to unbalance him. He frowns down at Zevran, “So why are you here?”

Zevran performs a gusty sigh, imitating an actress who’d once made him laugh in a Rivaini streetshow. “Perhaps you will know me better as the Warden’s paramour.”

Anders’ frown transmutes from suspicion into confusion. “Which warden?”

Zevran laughs, then, honestly, and catches the moment that Anders’ mouth quirks upward in a shadow of a smile when he does. “Aha, I had become so accustomed to there being just two in our travels during the Blight that I have neglected to remember his recent efforts. No, I mean the Warden. Talen Mahariel.”

Anders’ eyebrows hit his hairline at the same moment Sarah dips a hurried curtsy of stained brown skirts. “Oh my word, the commander’s paramour in my kitchen! Oh, everything is such a mess.”

Sarah immediately begins to busy herself with clearing surfaces, apparently at random. Anders looks caught between soothing her and keeping his eye on Zevran, so Zevran spares him the decision, stepping quickly forward and easily around the mage to catch her hands. They’re warm and soft in his, and Sarah stops immediately, eyes widening as she flushes. She, at least, is a more ordinary size, and only slightly taller than Zevran.

“Please, do not stand on ceremony for my sake. I admit I was only drawn here by the scent of fresh bread.” Sarah’s eyes, if possible, widen further, an effect exaggerated by the flour sticking to her cheeks. But then her expression softens, and she gently pulls her hands back.

“Well then! You should have said. Here, sit down. You too, Anders.” Sarah’s tone takes on a distinctly matronly quality when she speaks to the mage, though she can’t have had more than a decade and a half on him in age. Zevran supposes he’s known younger mothers.

Both of them sit at a rough wooden table on simple stools. Over their heads, sunlight spills like honey across the deep stone windowsill. Anders offers Zevran a tight smile, whilst Sarah ducks and opens a heavy iron door in the oven built into the wall. The smell of fresh bread intensifies, savoury sweet and warm on Zevran’s tongue. Sarah hums to herself tunelessly as she fishes out two iron plates from a cupboard, and slices the bread with a soft crunch.

She presents the plates and a clay dish of butter, as well as a tiny clay pot of rock salt, and puts her hands on her hips. Zevran stares at the steam rising in curls from the fresh bread and resists the urge to lick his lips. Sarah bumps Anders’ shoulder with her hips, and moves a hand to muss his hair. “You should have seen this one when he got here. Skinny as an alley cat and led by his nose just as easily.” Anders flushes, and opens his mouth to respond, but Sarah just claps his shoulder hard enough to make him buckle forward. “Go on you two, enjoy yourselves. I’ve got dinner to prepare for a small army.”

Then she turns and moves back to the kitchen, humming as she goes. Zevran pauses before touching his bread, glancing at Anders. He isn’t sure what he’s looking for, but the mage hunches his shoulders defensively, crooked hand frozen with his bread halfway to his mouth. This close Zevran can see that his fingers are littered with scars, and several of the knuckles are out of alignment. He is familiar with the treatment that elicits such effects, but he had not expected to see its marks on a mage. Perhaps Talen was right, and he based too much of what he knew of magic on cheap romances. Zevran had always assumed a mage would stop anyone before they could do such a thing.

“Withholding meals is Templar 101,” Anders mutters, glaring at Zevran defensively, “At least here I don’t get in trouble.”

Several things fall into place. Zevran picks up his bread: the crust is gold and thick, and warm to the touch. He butters it with a generous pat before sprinkling a little salt over the top. Anders watches him with poorly concealed curiosity. Zevran pretends not to notice. “Disciplinary starvation is not uncommon among the Crows.” Zevran offers Anders his first honest smile, and tries not to feel as if he exposing a vulnerable organ. “It seems we have this in common.”

Anders stares at him for a long moment, then, before eventually ducking his head and offering Zevran a hesitant smile in return. Satisfied, Zevran bites into his bread, and lets out a moan that he knows is pornographic. Sarah giggles, and Anders flushes pink across his cheeks, down his long neck and across what areas of his chest are exposed by those truly inviting robes.

Zevran hides his grin in his next bite. Well, Talen had a pet project with the Howe boy. Perhaps some amusement could come of knowing the mage better. It would, at the very least, be a pleasant enough way to pass the time.

[nad-zeta]

I'm a dum dum , didn't even realize your requests are open 😂. Ok~ I hope I'm following your rules– cuz I couldn't find any :")) but would you mind doing a hc for Ikesen characters(you can choose the characters! I don't really mind) reacting to a teenager MC(from ages 14-17)? I've seen lots of child MCs but not a teenager one.

Headcanon: Teenage MC feat: Nobunaga, Kenshin, Ieyasu, Hideyoshi and Masamune

Hehehe that's cause I'm a lazy potato so, for now, there are no rules lol 😂 😂 😂 ! Lol so for this I made it more fun and less romantic cause like don't want my sweet bios to look like pedos u know lol 🥀 ! Thanx for the request dear I hope you like it! And I hope you have the best day!  (✿◠‿◠)

Nobunaga

The first time he sees you he is super intrigued

Like how did someone so young and smol manage to pull him out of a freaken burning building

He went into full BIG BRO MODE

The two of you would get up to all sorts of mischief together

Stealing candy together is a given 

You would harry potter style hide under a not so invisible cloak, running to the kitchen together like hunched old ladies

The second you enter the kitchen the hunt for the candy begins

You find the jar in 0.2 seconds “Trust me this ain’t my first rodeo.”

“Aaaah so my fireball sister is an experienced thief then.”

The two of you happily munch on the candy in the kitchen when all of a sudden the two of you heard someone at the door

The two of you turned in sync to see Mother Dearest Amber eyes shining with anger in the dark

“How many times have I told you stealing is bad, and that candy before bed is extremely unhealthy.”

He turned to look at Nobunaga, who looked like a guilty schoolboy “My lord, you are supposed to set the example, how do you expect to be a good big brother if you are influencing her to steal and eat candy before bed.”

Everything was going perfectly according to plan- while Hideyoshi was distracted you snuck a few handfuls of candy in the hidden pockets of you kimono

Once you were done with your mission you chimed in “Yeah big bro how do u expect me to be a good girl when you always dragging me along to steal the candy.”

“Oooooh don’t think I forgot about you, young lady.”

He lectured the two of you for three hours

Hideyoshi sent both of you back to your rooms. 

Luckily Nobunaga’s’sNobunaga’s’s room was right on top of yours and you were experienced in the art of sneaking out to meet up with friends

So you easily climbed up onto his balcony and snuck into his room

The two of you snicked and laughed while munching on candy together

Hideyoshi

“Have you eaten yet today, brushed your teeth, done all your chores.”

Catches you stealing candy at night with Nobunaga again

“How many times have I told you not to eat candy before bed young lady.”

Hideyoshi has full-blown turned into your castle mom

You had been secretly dating some random boy, you met in the market

You twisted your ankle sneaking out your room to go and see him, luckily Mamayoshi was doing his final rounds of the castle and found you hissing on the ground.

He picked you up and patched you up real good

Cue lecture about sneaking out in the middle of the night

The next day the boy broke up with you- cause he a piece o shit

You spent the whole day crying in your room

Cue Mamayoshi barging into your room, cause the maids had informed him that you skipped breakfast!

(ಥ﹏ಥ)

“Who dare break my favourite sister’s heart” (ノಠ益ಠ)ノ彡┻━┻

“Just show me who he is and I’ll teach that freaken punk a lesson he will never forget” (╬ ಠ益ಠ)

You spent hours crying on his shoulder, Hideyoshi made you some tea and took you to the market to do some retail therapy

You would go to Mamayoshi for advice all the freaken time, you really did see him as a mom

Have boy trouble Hideyoshi is there helping ya out and giving you advice, struggling to do the homework Mitsuhide gave you, Mama will sit for hours helping you, someone Is bullying you? Hideyoshi will mom style cut them

Will take you out to tea all the time, and the two of you will low key spill the tea on all the latest gossip

Kenshin

Treats you like a fragile princess

Will be an extremely doting brother

Will 100% teach you how to defend yourself

Feeling sad, Kenshin will legit find the source of your sadness and freaken kill them

Feeling anxious or insecure, Kenshin will be there wrapping you in a big bear hug while drawing soothing circles on your back. He will soothingly comfort you as your cry on his shoulder

Will summon his army of fluff balls to cuddle with you until that smile is back on your face

You like a boy in the market… forget about it. Kenshin is there glaring at the boy… “He is not good enough for my dearest sister.”

You give Kenshin puppy dog eyes “No way bunny, you are still a baby, definitely not old enough to date. Come on, let go get some tea and pickled plumbs to cheer you up.”

You cant say no to Kenshin especially when he gives you his puppy dog eyes in return 

Will always insist on holing your hand when walking in the market together

Will legit kill anyone or anything that threatens you

Will give you platonic forehead and cheek kisses

Loves it when you sass and roll your eyes at Shingen trying to pick up all the woman at banquets 

Will let you sneak a few sips of his sake, and you are the only one he will share his pickled plumbs with

Will send you off to bed when it gets too late, the bunnies have taken quite a liking to you so they will accompany you back to your room and cuddle with you

Masamune

“come on lass lets’s go on an adventure.”

“No way the last time we went on an adventure I was almost killed and both of us got an hour-long lecture about the dangers of waterfalls.”

“Where is your sense of adventure kitten.”

“The same place your sense of safety is, non-existent.’

Drags you with him to go hiking, when you were on the top of the mountain you slipped on some loose gravel. Masamune caught you, and both of you went tumbling into a lake

You couldn’t help but laugh

The two of you splashed around in the water until late into the afternoon

“Quick lass let’s sneak in before mother dearest scolds us for.”

Too late he was already waiting for the two of you

Masa will cook you anything and everything your heart desires, when you tell him you’re on a diet cause some boy called you fat Masamune’s eyes widens.

He will bring your favourite dish an place it just under your nose, you can’t help but crumble damn that smell too good to waste, “Fine but my diet starts tomorrow”, (っ˘ڡ˘ς) you say with a mouth full of food

Lol tomorrow never came and that asshole of a boy was never seen again

Sometimes it was hard to tell who the teenager was you or Masamune, the two of you would always joke around pulling pranks on all the castle residents

You were actually pretty thankful Masamune didn’t drink, cause it made you feel like you weren’t missing out on anything during banquets

At the end of the banquets it would always be you, Masa and Mitsuhide left awake and playing card games till dawn

Will leave Shogetsu with you during times of war. The big cat literally destroys everything

“No way masa, ask Mitsunari to watch him, last time when I woke up he shredded everything in my room”, he just grinned at you “That’s what adds to his cuteness”. (=^・^=)

You narrowed your eyes at him “What’s in it for me”. (¬_¬)

“I’ll bring you back a months supply worth of candy and I Masamune Date will owe you a favour”.

You beamed up at him, that would definitely come in handy one day “Fine I’ll do it”. (｡◕‿◕｡)

“Thanks, kitten that’s why you’re my favourite sister”,

You rolled your eyes “I’m your only sister”.

He pats you on the head while chuckling “Exactly” (＾ｕ＾)

Ieyasu

Would have witty battles with the resident porcupine all of the time

Masamune would literally, howl in laughter when the two of you are at it.

You would juts roll your eyes “Not my fault Ieyasu is always so salty.”

The amount of time the two of you have had an eye-rolling contest is ridiculous

Even though the two of you fight like cats and dog you still enjoy Ieyasu’s’sIeyasu’s’s company

Ieyasu actually shows you his soft side

One day a boy broke your heart

You walked into Ieyasu’s room and looked at him ༼ つ ಥ_ಥ ༽つ

Ieyasu rushed to you and wrapped you up in his arms and let you cry it out

“You know what will be fun” Ieyasu asked with a hint of mischief in this emerald eyes

“What” (“･ω･`) you asked sniffing and wiping the last of your tears away

“If we make that punk regret ever breaking your heart.”

You couldn’t help but give him the biggest brightest smile, the two of you snuck out that night and egged his house

You are the only person privileged enough to know Ieyasu’s soft side

The two of you will have a chilli eating contest

Basically ends with you drinking a gallon of milk and losing all sense of taste “Silly girl this isn’t even the hottest peppers yet.”

You will play matchmaker to get Ieyasu a date/lover

He will legit just roll his eyes at the suggestion, he is way too busy with work

“I found the perfect person for you Yasu, they are sweet, kind you know basically an angel and don’t worry they definitely won’t get put off by your contrary personality.”

Yasu raises a brow “Who” (ーー;)

You snicker a little and burst out laughing “MITSUNAR, he is perfect for you.”

Yasu legit spits out the tea he was sipping on, he was turning as red as a tomato

Yasu.exe has stopped working

“I freaken knew it, I’m gonna go tell him right now” (°o°)

“Don’t you dare” (ー_ー)!!

(✿◠‿◠)

(((( ；ﾟДﾟ))) Yasu legit leaps over his desk and tackles you to the ground tickling you until you surrender

“Fine but if the two of you ever get married, I better be your maid of honour.”

Yasu legit just ruffled your hair and rolled his eyes “Yeah yeah whatever just don’t tell him.”

 Hope you liked it, dear! <3

[konpithepuppy]

[TRANSLATION: MYOJO 08.2021]

7 MEN SAMURAI

Proofread by aji10647731 (Twitter)/ @janiappend

Scans not mine

Neither an English nor a Japanese native speaker

Feel free to correct me, thanks

7 MEN 侍

In commemoration with the start of the stage play 「SUPERHEROISM」!!

A discussion on our superheroes!!

Riding with the title of the stage play in which Reia and Sasaki appears...the members talked about their own superheroes.

Without knowing it, they also drew their heroes!

The aim is with "strong body", "cheering up someone by doing my best," in other words, like an immortal idol.

TAIKO

● Since I was a child, tho ones who I admire are The Beatles' John Lennon and Paul McCartney. With the influence of my father, I listen to their songs even before I was old enough to understand what's going on, and I heard I told them, "I want to watch DVD" and watched it. My favorite song is「Blackbird」. The playing method of the guitar called "two-finger" in this song is cool. I haven't seen Paul's concert in real life, but he is already a legend to me since long ago, so on the contrary, I don't have to meet him (LOL).

● When I was a child, I watched dramas like Kamen Rider. I didn't have interest in goods, but until now I want to have the unique ability of being immortal (LOL). I think that having that ability is definitely impossible, but that ability is the strongest (LOL). There are times when I think what will happen to me if the earth collapses. I am afraid the most of dying, that's why I want to continue living forever even if I'm alone!

RINNE

● The one who I thought was cool when I was a child was the soccer player with number 10. I watched Nakamura Kengo Senshu, and the number had the image of a star that is good in soccer. But, at that time, I thought the number at their backs are their age. As expected, a 10 year old professional player is too young (LOL).

● In high school's athletic meet, the one who plays the role of the anchor in an 800-meter relay race receives the baton last (4th), but when the anchor wins the first place, the anchor is seriously a hero. In a relay, each 200 meters is packed with dramas and I am moved by those. The look of pouring the effort to run too is cool. It is not just limited to athletics, I admire people who are trying to push themselves for something. Even though the person doesn't think to be a hero, but the result of that person doing his/her best is cheering up someone, isn't that great? Surely, Rinne wants to be that kind of hero!

KATSUKI

● The one who I admire, may it be in the past and now, is Harry Potter. I liked him so much when I was a child that I wanted to be able to use magics like he did. I was really serious about it that I confirmed to my mother if there was really a school of witchcraft and wizardry (LOL). If I am going to be asked, "Who is the hero you want to be?", I think I will still answer that I want to be Harry Potter. It's cliche but I want to try bringing down a bad guy using magic once.

● Realistically speaking, I want to be someone who can motivate others. Since I will be happy if the fans tell me, "I watch 7 MEN Samurai's activities while attending college, and I want to do my best studying too," I wish to be the admired person of people like that.

● If I have a special ability, I want an power where I can eat infinitely without getting fat. *Eating without feeling guilty is endlessly delicious, isn't it the strongest?

REIA

● My heroes are GEN-san from the band 04 Limited Sazabys and TAKUYA-san from UVERworld. Because they have the elements of the kind of guy I want to be. With GEN-san's charm to attract people and TAKUYA-san's passion, and if you add a gap like Kikuchi Fuma's, it will be the best.

● The one who admire for his guitar play is Akira-san from the same group UVERworld. The phrases he play are so cool and the sounds are so cool too that I bought the same guitar. It's from a different genre but I am also attracted to the skills of the skateboarder Chris Haslam. Like he shows fancy techniques that I thought, "He is gonna show in this place that kind of performance!?" His sense of originality is cool.

● It would be the strongest if I have the powers of my heroes and become immortal. I want to enjoy living a lo~ng life while staying as a cool man! 

REI

● The one that I liked when I was a child was 「Initial D」. The scene where the protagonist was making full use of the driving techniques while driving in a snowy mountain to go and rescue the heroine was cool. I have around 20 minicars and plastic models of the protagonist's car.

● My hero right now is Edward Van Halen, the guitarist of the American rock band Van Halen. A lot of guitarists admire him, and his influence is big. I also have one Van Halen guitar, since it is made with various considerations, so it is easy to play with it and I like it. Last year, when he died, it was the first time that I got that sad when a famous person died and I was down for how many days. I envy him for producing innovative songs one after another, and for being loved by a lot of people.

TAIKI

● When I was 3 years old, I saw Kimura Takuya-San singing 「Sekai ni Hitotsu Dake no Hana」and I thought his voice, facial expression, and gesture were all cool. Since then, Kimura-san is my hero so I didn't get absorbed with heroes from anime and live-action films that use special effects. When I first met him in Kouhaku in 2012, I was overwhelmed by his aura that I couldn't greet him. The year before last year, I told him, "I've been looking up to you since I was a kid!" when I went to watch his live, and I had the opportunity to take a photo with him. Until now, I still get motivated that "I will do my best!" when I look back at the photo. With all due respect, to work together with him someday is my dream!

● The person who I admire is someone who does his best at anything he does. A person who stays silent and speaks with his back...someone like that. Like Kimura-san, who cheers up everyone in televisions concerts, and I think him being able to put a smile on his face is also an act of a hero, I want to be like that too!

[altheterrible]

On strength and the Future

My therapist had to reschedule me from today (3/9) to tomorrow (3/10) due to “unforeseen circumstances” and of course my first thought was that she hates me and thinks I'm boring and pathetic.

I have no logical reason to think this. She's only ever been extremely supportive and validating. I just feel like I'm boring and pathetic, so I feel like everyone else feels that way about me, too.

The thing is, I am not boring. Or pathetic.

I'm depressed. I'm depressed, and that makes me feel boring. I'm actually very interesting, I'm extremely well educated, well read, media savvy, musically gifted, artistic, socially conscious, and I'm juuuust dramatic and ridiculous enough that I’m a hilarious storyteller. People have told me my whole life that I’m a goddamn delight. People I respect, even. I believe them. I'm not boring!

But I FEEL boring. I feel dull, and unengaged, and disconnected from everyone and everything. So I assume everyone feels the same about me. Oh, that Al is such a bore. Al can't even entertain herself. Even Al doesn't want to listen to her own boring thoughts, why would a poor therapist want to?

As for being pathetic, I feel like this whole trauma thing is a joke. Like, I feel as though I'm being a dramatic baby just clinging to slights from the past because they're the most interesting thing about me. A stronger person would just let it go and move on. Maybe I'm just desperate to be tortured and tragic so people will pity me. Maybe I need an excuse to be as much of a failure as I've ended up being. Maybe my trauma and the supposedly related mental illness is just my whole identity.

The thing is, though…before grad school, my mental illness was a huge part of my identity, but even then, I still saw myself as so much more. I was a musician, an artist, a writer, a scholar. A pet owner. After the four years of therapy I got in grad school, my mental illness became even less of my identity. I make a concerted effort to define myself by the things in my life I've controlled, not by the shitty things that happened to me due to others' malevolent or negligent actions.

So I don't think I'm like, deliberately clinging to trauma to be dark and mysterious or something, and yet…if I'm not deliberately holding on to my trauma, then why won't I just let it go? If I have the ability to drop the bowl of soup that's scalding my hands, why have I not done so? It's stupid and illogical to hold tightly onto that which causes pain, so if I won't let it go, then I must be stupid and illogical.

I've never been stupid and illogical, though. Multiple friends call me the most logical person they know.

So...maybe I CAN’T let go. Maybe I cannot move on.

But…I need to believe that some part of me wants to hold onto my trauma, and linger on it, and obsess over it, because being unable to let go is unacceptable. Unable to conquer my own emotions? Pathetic. I never even used to HAVE emotions, when did I get so weak as to be ruled by feelings?

No.

I refuse to be weak.

I have never been weak.

My father, and his mother, were very critical of me growing up. My grandmother wanted thin, pretty, feminine granddaughters and I've been short, fat, and butch my whole life. She showed heavy favoritism to my more appealing cousins. My dad resented that, but to him, the problem was that his kids didn't measure up, not that his mother was a bitch. So he pushed and pressured and criticized and even as young as 4 or 5 years old, I knew I needed to improve myself.

I embarked at that young age on a focused program of self-improvement, as ridiculous as that sounds for a child that small. I couldn't make my body into what my grandmother wanted, and wearing dresses and such made me feel like I was suffocating (and still does), but I knew I could improve myself in other ways.

I began to teach myself piano and dedicated myself to learning about music. I began to listen to the classical composers my grandmother liked and I'd read about the composers at the library to impress her with my knowledge. When she criticized me, and she did often, instead of letting myself become frustrated or upset at her frankly unfair commentary, I forced myself into cool neutrality. Proper young ladies don't show their anger, they stay calm and put together. Good granddaughters are quiet, attentive, and malleable, so I became those things. I learned baking, sewing, and gardening to please her.

I decided around age 8 that I needed to become stronger in other ways to make up for my ugly and Gross body and also so that my parents would give me the positive attention I craved instead of ignoring me. At that point, the only attention I was getting regularly was from the cousin who was sexually abusing me, and I also thought she'd treat me better if I were different. So, I decided I needed to be more stoic and reserved so my parents wouldn't know (and thus yell at me) when I got sick or when someone hurt me. I decided I needed to be less sensitive so that when my classmates bullied me, I could just brush it off. I thought I needed to be emotionally closed off so that I had fewer vulnerabilities people could exploit, for example, my cousin would use my emotions against me to manipulate me into doing what she wanted, and I thought if my feelings were a secret, she would have to be nicer to me overall to get me to cooperate. Finally, I decided I needed to become the truly strong, silent type instead of reacting emotionally like a child to all the traumatic shit that kept happening to me--in my mind, only children cried when they were scared or yelled when they were hurt or angry, and since being a child sucked for me, I decided I was ready to be an adult.

I started cutting myself at age 11 to train myself to withstand physical pain, thinking that if I could do that, then emotional pain wouldn't bother me as much. It worked ridiculously well. By cutting myself, I could turn emotional pain off immediately. Good riddance. When I cut myself, I felt focused and strong. I so rarely felt strong otherwise.

Being able to shut off all unpleasant feelings helped me "mature" quite young, and I focused on making myself stronger in all the ways I could. My asthmatic, stunted, malnourished, and neglected body wouldn't cooperate and become the thin, fit, healthy ballerina my father and grandmother wanted me to be, but I strengthened myself in every other way. I attacked every weakness in my character with precision and became the most mature, responsible, adult child possible.

Thus, by the time I was in high school, I had taken every characteristic that annoyed me in others or led to POTENTIAL harm and removed them from my personality. At 14, I kept my own schedule, did my own cleaning and laundry, cooked my own food, and scheduled my own appointments, and a few years later, did all my college tests and applications alone. I worked 20 hours a week starting on 9th grade, and from then on paid for my own clothes, school supplies, piano lessons, and college entrance fees. I was totally independent by age 16, depending only on my parents for shelter and utilities, which I did contribute to so I really just needed them to use their legal ages to pay bills.

I had no close friends until 2012, and confided only sparingly in my sister until 2016. Everyone liked this setup except me, but I didn't matter. When I felt like I was going to choke on all the secrets I was keeping, I started an anonymous online diary and told strangers the things no one in my life wanted to hear. This kept me from completely shutting down emotionally from 2001 until I could get therapy in 2015.

I was cutting myself 5 or 6 times a week as a high school student, but to me, that didn't matter. I didn't matter, per my parents, so my body didn't matter, and hurting my body to master my emotions was a good trade off to me. It let me be productive, even after being sexually abused for 5 years by my cousin, even after being neglected and abused by my parents and bullied by my peers, even after watching my aunt try to commit suicide in front of me, even after my dad was in jail, even after he was back and he threatened to burn the house down while we slept like my maternal grandmother tried to do when I was five. And so much more. Even after all that, self harm let me be productive. Being able to produce excellent schoolwork, musical genius, and clean sheets was more important than my body, my body had betrayed me from a very early age by being too fat, too short, too easy for others to abuse. Ten years after graduating high school, I was cutting myself multiple times daily, often deeply enough that I needed stitches. I was also bruising myself and breaking my own bones. But I still thought being productive mattered more than the “harm” I was doing to my body. Until my second year of grad school, I was able to just push all the trauma shit down inside with self harm and remain functional. I felt this was a solid coping mechanism. After all, I didn't drink or do drugs, I didn't harm animals or engage in any other criminal behavior. The only person I hurt was myself, and I didn't matter.

And I still feel that way today, honestly, 16 years since I graduated from high school. Being a productive person is more important than my feelings, and my inability to move past my trauma is a weakness in my character that needs to be excised with precision, the way I've excised so many other faults. But I can't, I can't move on, and now I'm stuck feeling bad about shit that's 10+ years old, all the time. Constantly. Just constant bad feelings that won't go away.

They won't go away, and I can't just turn them off anymore, either. Because in 2016, I started trying to quit self harm. And two years ago I stopped self-harming for 15 months straight, and now it doesn't work as a magical emotions-off button anymore. I cut myself now and I just feel guilty and gross, plus all the bad emotions I was already dealing with, instead of feeling strong and powerful and focused and empty.

So now I'm stuck in this place where I can't just get over my trauma and move on from the intense bad feelings, and I can't just turn the feelings off because cutting myself--my only real coping mechanism for these intense bad feelings--just compounds the intense bad feelings now instead of stopping them, so I'm stuck FEELING INTENSELY BAD CONSTANTLY WITH NO END IN SIGHT.

This leads me to conclude that I'm left with the truly unattractive option of actually processing the trauma to stop the constant bad feelings it's causing. Process the trauma, no more bad feelings. Can't go over it, can't go under it, can't go around it, gotta go through it.

It's such bullshit, though, because literally no one has sympathy when you're working through shit that happened 10 or 20 or 30 years ago and your life is consequently a disaster. They expect trauma to come out only in therapy and go neatly back in its box at the end of the session, but it doesn’t work like that. If I open a box of trauma, I then have to sort and organize that whole box. I can't just fit it tidily back into the box how it was before, and the box won’t just neatly shut again. All that trauma mess will be sitting out in the open until I can get it all put where it actually belongs, which means I gotta clear storage space and probably organize and sort my non-trauma mess to make room. And I don't know if I can commit to that kind of deep cleaning. I need to get a steady income, I need to do laundry and clean the cat boxes, and I need to clean the bathroom, and I need to cook, and I need to work 40 hours a week, I need to PRODUCE the stuff of life. The stuff that "matters" like paid bills and completed projects and met deadlines.

The need to be productive never stops, but working through my trauma may erode my ability to be productive even more than struggling to stay afloat in the ocean of my trauma has already eroded it. And then what? Who am I, if I'm not productive? What good am I?

But maybe there’s more to life than being productive. Strange idea, that. Maybe there's more than paying bills and meeting deadlines. Maybe there’s joy out there. Maybe there’s love. Maybe there's satisfaction in a job well done, instead of a sense of uunending panicked guilt about what's not yet done. Maybe there's a future that's actually…worth living. A future that's...good. Maybe there's 9 cats there. Maybe there's a grand piano and a kitchen with an island.

A future is intriguing, especially one worth living, but how do I get there from here? Can I? How do I get from "I'm drowning in an ocean of trauma" to "happy, living a worthwhile future with 9 cats and a grand piano and a kitchen with an island"?

What if I keep fighting to barely tread water here in the Trauma Ocean forever? I'll run out of energy and drown, eventually, well before I get to "forever". Treading water in this sense means going though the days like I am now, tired, burned out, empty. Exhausted. Productive, sure, but barely, and no joie de vivre. Nothing feels worth living for, but suicide is too cruel to my sister, so I keep going. Swimming in the Trauma Ocean is painful because there's no rest--I can't touch the bottom and I don't have a life vest--and so there's no escape from the bad feelings, it's just constant hurt and anger and sadness pulling me down.

Several months, maybe even a couple more years like this, with nothing changing and no escape from the constant pain, eventually it'll get too tiring to keep my head above water anymore and that’ll be it. I'll sink. I'll finally give up and kill myself, or just die of diabetes complications when it gets to hard to care for myself. Then I'll never have a chance to see this POTENTIALLY WORTHWHILE FUTURE with cats and a piano and a kitchen island that may exist out there for me.

So if I just give up immediately and stop trying to keep my head above the water of the Trauma Ocean now, I'll drown much sooner. Saves me some suffering, yeah. Still dead too young of something preventable, still no chance to live my nine-catted, fancy kitchen, Steinway grand piano dream.

I can’t just get out of this damn ocean, I covered that already, I'm good and trapped here in the Trauma Ocean by my own inability to move on. Can't get out of the Trauma Ocean, so I guess I'll just tread water here until I drown. I guess the nine cats and grand piano and kitchen island are out of reach after all.

Or, maybe I do something really ridiculously hard...and I just drain all the water out of the Trauma Ocean.

And if I keep struggling to keep my head above water while simultaneously working on draining the water out of the Trauma Ocean, then I might survive long enough for my feet to touch the bottom and then, maybe, I can stand up. Rest. Then, start walking. Walk into the future I've been told by friends and teachers and therapists that I deserve. Walk right into my happy future with nine cats and a grand piano and kitchen island.

Draining the water from Trauma Ocean removes the source of my suffering. I don't have to exhaust myself treading water forever if the water starts to go down. If the source of my pain--my Trauma--is managed, then my suffering will also be managed.

And that's why I need to process this fucking Trauma bullshit. Right now, I'm surviving, but I can't keep going forever, it's too exhausting being in this much pain constantly. I will survive, up until the exact moment I can't tread water anymore, and then it'll be too late to save myself. So, surviving isn't enough, I need to do more work to drain Trauma Ocean because I'll never be able to do anything but survive until my feet touch down on the ocean floor. And I want more than survival. After all the shit I've been through, I deserve a happy ending goddamn it, and if that means I have to go through and process every traumatic garbage memory I have, then I'm ready.

I am ready to do more than tread water and gasp for air. I'm ready for more than “well I guess I'm not dead yet.” I'm ready for more than the same pain and exhaustion I've been fighting for years.

I'm ready to feel the ground under my feet. I'm ready to stand up and start walking. I'm ready to finally get the Happy, joyful, loving, worthwhile, multi cat loving, grand piano owning, kitchen with an island having, good feelings-ful future I deserve.

I just need to drain this massive fucking ocean first.

No big deal, right? I've done harder, scarier things than that. it's just moving some water around.

I'll just take it one bucket at a time.

One drop at a time.

One molecule at a time, if that's what it takes.

[luxenbm]

~Silent Corps~

A/N: So uhh, this is my first time ever writing a smut. Don’t expect it to be good, cause I’m an amateur! I’m sorry for any grammar or spelling mistakes in advanced too! I have no idea what I’m doing so be prepared to read one of the worst smuts ever! XD

Genre: Smut/Mafia AU

Pairing: Kim Taehyung x Reader

Warnings: ???? Cringey as fuck,

Summary: In which a girl gets an arranged marriage with a mafia son by her parents. Still being the hopeless romantic she is, she agrees.

__________________________________________

”Ahh! This should be the last one out of them!” She huffed, putting her hands on her hips. The poor girl has been doing chores the whole day, which she was supposed to be resting. She turned her head to look at the clock on her wall. ”6:35 p.m. already? Have I been doing chores that long?” She let out a sigh and headed back to the living room hoping to just chill for the rest of the day.

She turned on the tv hoping to watch some of her childhood TV shows. A couple of examples was Rollie Pollie, Franny’s Feet, Blue’s Clues, Pingu, Bratz you named it. Not before even 10 minutes have passed by she received a call from her parents.

”Yes, dad?” she paused the tv show she was watching. ”Sweetie, we need you to come to this restaurant called ’JYP Buffet’ please dress nicely. Like a dress or something, last time you wore sweatpants saying that was a ’nicely’ outfit you had.” I groaned, already know that I won't be able to deny anything. ”Do I really have to?”

A sigh could be heard from the other line already giving Y/n her answer. ”Alright ill go, but can you tell me what it’s about first though?” She asked. ”You’re gonna be in an arranged marriage with the son of the company we are aligned with.”

What.The.Fuck.

Okay yeah, I know my parents know that I’m a loner and won’t ever get a boyfriend or a husband in general, but they had the audacity to sign me up for an arranged marriage with a guy I have never met before?! Who knows too! Maybe the guy could even kill me, knowing that he is involved in some mafia shit. Ugh.

I let out a sigh, “Alright I’ll go to this ‘dinner date’ or whatever you call it.” You could already tell that both of your parents are smiling just by the time of your dad’s voice. “Alright sweetie, we’ll see you in a few minutes.” You could hear your mom’s voice in the backyard excited for some grandchildren’s, and that’s when you knew that you have to end the call. Turning off the tv, you head upstairs to take a shower.

_________________________________________

After putting on your best dress that you could find, you drove to the location where the dinner date was held. You decided to put some Ateez songs on, with Wave being your favourite song at the moment.

You drove in silence soaking up the silence.

__________________________________________

Finally arriving at your destination, you hopped out of your car and headed towards the entrance. After dealing with the front desk, you went upstairs and searched for your parents. It wasn't crowded as usual due to it being Sunday night.

After scanning the room, you found your parents sitting near the window wall. You made your way to them, noticing that your ’husband’ and his parents weren't here yet. Very professional, you mumbled.

You settled down with your parents, sitting to the left side of your mom giving you the beautiful view of the city. 

”Hey mom, I know this is kinda straight forward but like, why are you letting me marry a man that I doing love. Heck, I've never met him before.” You asked, she looked at you with a sad smile. ”Unfortunately, we can't do anything about it right now. Given our current situation, our rival gang is planning an attack and we need to be on top of our game.” She placed a hand on top of your head, caressing it slowly. ”I hope you understand our situation and perspective dear.”

Nodding my head, I turned back my attention to the city lights displayed. A few little minutes passed by when they finally arrived at the table. ”I’m so so sorry we were late. We kinda had a little problem on the way here.” The man chuckled, trailing behind him was a woman and a young man. Y/n and her parents stood up and bowed do them, both her father and the man shook hands while her mother and the woman hugged each other.

All of you sat back down, with your supposed ’husband’ was sitting right in front of you. Of course, you being you, you weren't great with people. So what else would you do? Start a conversation with him. Simple right? Well, not for your introverted ass.

”So, my name is Y/n if you didn't know yet.” She looked at him smiling. While he stared back at her with a cold dagger eyes. You gulped down the lump that was slowly forming in your throat. ”Taehyung. My name is Taehyung.” he replied, before eating his coq au vin. Feeling rejected already you decided to eat your cassoulet.

You continue to start a conversation but you would only get a simple yes or no, or dry answers sometimes resulting in him of ignoring you completely or just a nod of the head. For sure you felt very awkward, due to both of your parents happily chatting away and there's the two of you.

You couldn't help but hear a few of their conversations were, like how Taehyung was the son of the most feared mafia leader in Korea. Or how Taehyung doesn't handle drinking well, leading that to one of his disadvantages when doing one of his missions. You couldn't help but chuckle on a few more things that you have heard about Taehyung from his mother.

The dinner went unexpectedly well, with no problems occurring. Both of their parents had said that they will be announcing something to Y/n and Taehyung.

While you were taking your time eating your dariole, you couldn't help but notice someone getting impatient with you. Just to tease him you decided to order some more food!

”Excuse me! Can I please have two more darioles, one opera cake, one charlotte, and one Tarte Tatin!” You ordered happily, knowing that your stomach is gonna be happy. The waitress scribbled down your orders and walked back to the kitchen. ”You fat fucking pig.” Taehyung cursed to you quietly not letting both of your parents hear. ”Excuse me? But can you let a girl enjoy her food without being body shamed?” you huffed out. He rolled his eyes and looked at the city lights.

This dude is really trying to disrespect me! Nah, he even tried to disrespect food! Who the hell in their right mind would disrespect food?!

Finally finishing your food, both if your parents decided to tell you guys the news they have kept. ”Okay, we know this I very unexpected and very shocking but it's only gonna bring you guys good luck, and a good future!” Taehyung’s mother stated. The three other parents nodding their heads. ”So then, we decided that the two of you will be living together, starting tomorrow!” Your mom happily squealed.

You knew your parents were crazy but never THIS crazy! In the end, both you and Taehyung agreed. Knowing the punishment that you two will get since both of your parents are top mafia leaders in Korea. Sure there were a few arguments about it here and there, but they all resolved that at the end.

__________________________________________

It was the day that you were gonna move in with Taehyung in the new house. When you got there you were surprised that all of Taehyung’s stuff and a couple of other stuff from both of their parents were all ready there. After organizing all of your stuff you decided to meet up with a friend named, Mia.

”Mia oh my god! You wouldn't believe what has happened yesterday!” You quickly sat down after getting your coffee. She placed down her cappuccino and looked at you with a straight face. ”Let me guess you either did something dumb, or something that you regret. ORRRR, your ’husband’ Levi has died in one of his missions.” She ranted just a few possibilities that you have called her. You rolled your eyes and scoffed. ”C’mon I ALWAYS don't talk about Levi!” You argued, ”When you’re not talking about Levi, you’re talking about food.” She calmly argued back.

”Ugh, the reason I called you hear is that I'm in deep shit.” You retorted, ” What did you do this time?” taking a drink out of her cappuccino.

”I may it may not have accidentally married a mafia son.” You mumbled, so the other people around you couldn't hear you. She almost spat out the cappuccino that she was drinking, wiping her mouth with her sleeve and looking at you with wide eyes.

”You did what?!” And that my friend started the whole question of trains from Mia. After answering a few more questions that Mia asked, you decide to go home.

__________________________________________

You locked the gate of the house, and walked towards the door. Due to this house being obviously large, its front yard was also humongous. Right when you were about to open the door you were met with Taehyung outside holding something.

“Listen, I know now is not the ‘right time’ for this, but I need your help. Will you help me or not?” He asked impatiently.

“...Is that a dead body?” I looked at the dead corps in his hands.

Still fully shocked you said nothing but stared at him with wide eyes and an open mouth. Taehyung getting irritated with your silence and the weight of the body, he decided to drag you with him. Holding the body with one hand while gripping your hand with the other.

”Hey! Where do you think you’re taking me?!” You gasped.

”Just shut the fuck up, and follow me.” He growled. You guys ended up going into a woods that was just behind your house. You tried everything that you could to let him stop gripping you so tight and pulling you, but there was no use.

The three of you, ahem plus the body was just standing beside the river which looks like it would lead to a place where it has a lot of water. He let out a relieved sigh and looked at you.

”So, what do you think we should do with the body?” He asked you. You being you, you still couldn't process the situation. Dead body? Taehyung? Taehyung killed someone?! There were so many things going through your mind all at once, it seems like you were back in math class again.

”I have a solution.” You chirped, he turned his attention back to you.

”Thank goodness, well, what is it?” He asked.

”It involves fire.”

”Absolutely not.” looking at you in disbelief. ”Alright how about this.” He murmured.  Taehyung started to take the body and putting a black beanie that looked like robbers would wear, and then began writing some stuff. Getting irritated again with you just standing there, he called you to help him throw the body into the water.

”Don’t just stand there dumbass! I dragged you hear for a reason.” He scolded you. Who do does he think he is!? I swear to God, I’ll get my revenage on him someday. With your face filled with horror with on what you have to do, Taehyung started to snicker due to your reaction but turned to a bitch face again.

You grabbed the bottom part of the body while Taehyung grabbed the upper part. On a count of three you guys threw the body into the river and watched it moved due to the toughness of the river flow.

“I’m sorry God for who I have sinned.” I mentally readyed myself, knowing that I will have to deal more of these in the future. Taehyung let out a scoffed. Turning my head to his direction I shot him a glare.

“Why did you kill that dude anyway?” I asked him, as we walked back to the house. “Why? It’s because I caught him trying to rob our place.” He simply stated. Rob!?

“They must’ve heard that people were gonna move in.” He started to walked ahead of me. Huh.

__________________________________________

The same day when you were preparing for dinner, you and Taehyung got into a heated argument. Weather if coffee was good or not. Of course both of you were very pressed, Taehyung being the coffee hater and you being the coffee lover.

Who in their right might would hate coffee!? You shouted in your thoughts. “Listen here buddy, I don’t dare who you are, I don’t care where you’re from, but never, and I mean never, disrespect coffee like that!” You pointed at him with your spatula. He looked at you in disbelief.

“I never knew people who loves coffee can irritate me this much.” He mumbled. Of course you got easily offended, I mean who wouldn’t?

“Excuse me sir, but coffee has its rights to be a good drink. You can pull off any dessert or pastries with coffee!” You argued back. Walking towards you in a slowed pace, looking like he was about to punish you( WiNk WiNK). His stare wasn’t helping the situation either. Pinning you down on the couch he then starred at you deeply.

“If you run, I will follow you. Search these city streets until I’ve found you and I will never let you run away again.” He said in a low raspy voice.

“You don’t owe me.” You boldly said, ahem, which wasn’t a good idea. Not at all.

“Oh, I do.” Pressing his lips into your own plump lips, taking you in full surprise. He started leaving small trails of kisses down to your neck, before kissing your lips again. Taehyung carried you upstairs to your bedroom, not breaking the kiss even one bit.

__________________________________________

( Pov all over the place for this one sorry xD )

He closed the door with his foot and placed me down on the soft cloudy mattress. Our tongues pressed together in a hot, openmouthed kiss. She felt wetness dampening the fabric of her panties, already feeling aroused. Pinning both of your wrists with one hand he started to slowly undress the girl underneath him. Unhooking the red lacy bra that was immediately thrown god who knows where in the room.

“Hmm? Were you planning to seduce me today?” He asked in a low raspy voice. Knee between your thighs he slowly slides his hand down your leg up and down. You couldn’t help but let out a few moans out when he started to suck on your neck leaving love bites. His lips slowly trailing down from your neck to your breasts. He admired the soft swell of your breasts, before placing his mouth on your bud.

Shivering slightly due to the new feeling being delivered to your body. His lips brushing on your left ear, “Now, be a good girl and behave for daddy alright?” He whispered, already loosing your mind you nodded.

He let out a deep chuckle that could make anybody aroused. Taehyung got up and sat on the end of the bed looking at you with pure lust in his eyes. “Suck.” He commanded. Getting up from your position, you got in front of him and started unzipping his pants, removing his boxers you look at his size. God. It was the biggest one you’ve ever seen, probably about 8 inches.

I grabbed a hold of his cock and started to licked the head with small, short strokes of her tongue. Looking up at Taehyung, face full of pleasure. Bobbing your head in a fast pace you can feel his cock start to shudder. Eventually releasing his orgasm. Taehyung immediately grabbed a hold of you and threw you on the bed. “All fours, face the bed frame now.” He ordered.

I followed his orders before feeling a sensation near your clit. Taehyung started to rub my sensitive clit through the fabric of my red lacy panties. He slowly pulls down my panties revealing my sensitive area to him. Taehyung rubs the tip of his cock against my swollen pussy lips, teasing me until I can take it no longer and whine for him to fuck me. He complies, pushing his hips forward to bury his cock deep in my pussy.

"I'm going to fuck you so hard you won't be able to walk!" He grunted. He started to pound in a sonic pace inside me, not even letting me adjust to his gigantic size. Pleasure. All I felt was pleasure. “Fuck you are so tight already!” He howled. “Yes! Oh god yes!” You moaned out when Taehyung found your g-spot.

He immediately started to hit that spot over and over again. You on the other hand, were losing your mind due to how much pleasure you’re getting. Is this how being a slut feels like? You thought. Your cheeks over and over with Taehyung’s abdomen.

SLAP!

“Ahh” you moaned out, a burning sensation stride to the rest of your body. You then realized he had slapped your ass. He let out a chuckle.

“From the moment I had laid my eyes on you, I couldn’t help but stare at your ass.” He purred. “They always jiggle whenever you walked, especially yesterday when you were wearing that tight dress.” He slapped your ass again, letting out a horny moan out of your plump lips.

“But now, I have this fantastic view of it right in front of me. I can eat it out whenever I want...” He cooed. You started to get more pleasure if that was even possibly, due to him talking dirty. “Nnggh, ahh! Taehyung I’m close...ngh..” you moaned. “I-I am too, let’s cum together baby girl...” his voice trembling.

Suddenly a rippling wave of shockwaves was released. Taehyung pulled out of you just in time, he had cummed. A pulsing feeling lingered in your sensitive area. Taehyung left the room and came back with a few tissues in his hands; he then started cleaning you up. Taehyung pulled the duvet over the both of you guys and starred living at your eyes.

“You aren’t that half bad you know,” You told him. He raised an eyebrow, “Why? You thought I was gonna be one of those bitchy, cocky, immature mafia son’s?” He chuckled.

Oh how much you love that chuckle of his. You smiled sweetly, “maybe..” He pounced on you and started ticking your sides.

“Ahh! Taehyung! Stop it!” You gripped his shoulders trying to push him away. He then gripped your sides and placed your foreheads together.

“I’m sorry if I was too rough with you...” he closed his eyes.

“It’s okay, also,” he let out a quiet yeah as a response.

“Coffee is good.”

__________________________________________

A/N: KSFNJSJSIRISIZFIIDS I’m sorry once again, because I have no idea what I’m doing! Hope you enjoyed though! Xoxo

[littlemessyjessi]

“Carnivore”: A Dracula Story: Plus Size Reader: Chapter 2

BBC/ Netflix Dracula  Imagine

Warning:  Mentions of cannibalism, violence kink and taxidermy.  Just a warning. Enjoy.

I had never been what I would call a morning person.

Unless by morning you meant 12 a.m.

If you meant being active when everyone else was asleep in bed then yeah, sure- I was a morning person.

But when the birds started to chirp and the people began to busy about... I. Was. Out.

Which was exactly why I was so extremely grateful to my butcher who stayed open to the wonderfully spry hour of eleven at night.

Bless his soul.

Joe was honestly a saint at times and I had no problem giving him my business.

I always peeled some off the top of our kills to bring home to my meat freezers but for my main diet...I needed a butcher and that was just that.

I arrived there at precisely 9 pm and I was greeted with a smile as I came through the door.

"Ah, my favorite creature of the night!" came the rather chipper voice of Joe.

I glanced up at him, "Evening, Joe."

"I have your usual ready." he said.  "It's just in the back."

"Sounds wonderful." I said dragging the large rolling cooler I'd brought with me to the front and wheeling it over to him.

"You're the only woman I know who actually comes in here with an ice chest.  Weekly.  Sometimes twice a week." he teased.

"Yeah, well, I'm a special breed." I said taking out the cash and handing it to him.

It was always the same and I paid him in cash...with a good tip.

Say what you will but tipping well made all the difference with people.

"I have some exotic game for you as well." I said. "It's in there before you fill it up."

"Keep your money then." he said with a smile.  "We'll call it a deal."

"Joe." I said with a pointed look. "I bring you my business because I want to and I bring the exotic meat because  A.) I know you can appreciate such a thing and B.) I adore the service.  So please don't insult me and just accept the gift and keep the money. Besides, last I heard you had a new baby on the way."

"For a vampire, you're awfully nice." he winked.

"What makes you think I'm a vampire?" I asked lifting a brow at him in question.

He just winked, "Oh, that's right it's werewolves that consume human flesh."

I stared at him and for a moment I had a mild panic attack.

Did he know?

How did he know?

He burst into laughter a second laughter, "I'm only joking!  Or was a spot on about your extracurricular activites?"

I narrowed my eyes at him.

"According to Marcus, you seemed to have quite the fondness for biting." he said speaking of a mutual friend that I may or may not have toyed with a few times.

Purely sexual of course.

Although, the man was a fine specimen and should I ever choose to murder him...he would make excellent steaks amongst other things.

"And how would you know such things?" I asked.

"He and Dylan are close." he said with a knowing smirk.

"Yes, well perhaps you and your husband should stay out of my 'extracurriculars' as you call them." I said, half joking, half dead serious.

Though in truth, Joe never took anything I said like that to heart.

I was what he like to call "Dangerously Adorable".

I abhored the term but it was endearing affectionate in a way, I suppose.

"Just fetch my meat, butcher boy." I said. "Before I decided to eat you."

"Ooooh, kinky." he teased. "I could probably convince Dylan to threeway. Neither of us have been with a woman in a long time."

I threw my pen at him to make him move and the sound of his laughter could be heard as he ventured into the back.

Moments later he emerged with my cooler and a basket on top.

"What's this?" I asked lifting a brow at the little brown thing. "Do I look like Little Red Riding Hood to you?"

"Yes sometimes you do give me that vibe." he laughed. "But in that basket are two special things for you.  One is a considerable amount of duck eggs and a jar of duck fat.  They're from my mother.  She really appreciated the package you sent her when she was sick.  I know you like to pretend you a cold heartless-"

"Stop talking, you'll ruin my reputation." I said with an unconvincing glare.

"Anyway, she wanted to say thank you." he said.

I made quick work of bidding him goodbye and got out of there.

He was one of the humans that I could tolerate being around for more than a little while...even if he was insufferable at times.

As I walked the streets with the basket on my arm and the cooler rolling behind me I thought of how conflicted I was with the nightlife of the city.

On the one hand, the convenience of having some establishments staying open all hours of the night was incredibly useful.

On the other, it usually meant conversation and I just had no patience for it sometimes.

Which is why it's so ironically cruel that the universe would put me in the path of someone who loved company.

"Hey, what's up, mami?"

I cut my eyes to the left to glare at the little heathen who looked me up and down.

Probably no older than twenty five.

A little younger than I would've liked and not really my type but attractive enough for me to toy with and end my boredom.

And certainly enough to make a meal out of it.

But was he awful enough to eat?

Was he some punk who just like to catcall?

As disgusting as it was .... did he have other motives?

"Darling, there you are!" entered a new, richly accented voice that I was unaccustomed to. "I've been looking everywhere for you."

I turned in time to see a man who was every BIT my type.

Older and classically handsome.

Like an old Hollywood movie star.

Tall and strong with years of aged muscle.

Not the roid rage muscles that the youth were so fascinated with today.

I likened that to the sensation of chewing tire threads.

No...this man...

This man was nothing short of delectable.

And damn him for being a knight in shining armor.

I so would have enjoyed feasting on his flesh.

"Hello, Darling..." I said slowly as he came closer to me and wrapped me in his embraced.

He unusually cool to the touch, not that I minded since I absolutely detested the sensation of being hot and sweaty.

He offered the young man a 'friendly' smile that seemed to say 'back off' behind the mask of politeness and the kid ran off.

"Thank you..." I said pulling away from the man.  "That was very kind of you."

"No problem." he said. "I fear the boy might not have had the purest plans for you in mind."

"And you would know this how?" I asked curiously.

"Because I have been a young man near a beautiful woman before." he smirked.

"So lust justifies rape to you then?" I countered.

"No." he said. "But it can cloud the mind and produce a level of stupidity. He might not have attempted to force himself upon you but he definitely would've touched without your permission."

"As you did when you took me in your arms?" I asked pointedly.

"That's different." he laughed a bit, seemingly shocked by the cheek of it all.

"How? Because you chose to play the Knight in Shining Armor?" I challenged. "Perhaps I was playing Little Red and I was looking for a Big Bad Wolf to eat me up after all."

"Well you would fit the bill. A tantalizing tart with a basket and all." he said, a slight air of irritation oozing from him beneath the mask of charm. "I'm sorry if I have offended you. I only meant-."

"I'm not offended." I cut him off. "I'm just a massive bitch and not much of a people person."

His handsome face pulled up into a grin and he laughed heartily.

"You are a refreshing creature aren't you?" he said.

"You have no idea." I said.  "Good night, sir."

"Dracula." he said extending his hand.

I lifted an eyebrow at him momentarily before leaning forward and whispering my name into his ear before placing a small kiss to his cheek.

"Good night, Dracula." I said.  "Now I must be off before the Big Bad Wolf comes back."

"Perhaps it's the wolf that chased the young pup away." he challenged.

I smirked, "Well, then, Mr. Wolf. If you're clever and hungry enough, you shouldn't have a problem tracking me down then."

I realized that those words were dangerous.

They were provacative and even luring to a stalker.

He could've easily been a psychopath.

But what did I care?

I could either have some fun with him and if he bid me harm....I'd simply have him for breakfast in the morning.

----------------

Hello, darlings!

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Love, Kenny

[fidgetnano19]

Day 7, Part 1: Eyes to the Grave

I guess you could say that this is what happens when Fidget is scolding herself for focusing too heavily on dialogue on Day 5? I wanted to work more Einnet parts in, but it just didn't come out that way...

Griaria, 13 years ago

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Marek stood quietly, eyes to the grave in front of him, careful not to bother mama during the service. She had already explained that his father wouldn't come back again, not like the times he went on long trips and gave him gifts when he returned. As for why they wouldn't see each other anymore, Marek was still a little confused about that part... something about souls, or his father being with Kea now. 

When he'd asked if he could go there, too, just to visit, mama only wept harder, squeezing him so hard to her chest that he could hardly breathe. He didn't ask that question again, or any others. Today, he was just glad she was out of bed, with her beautiful purple hair brushed and swept up on top of her head by the servants. He gripped her hand tighter every time she sniffled, silently begging her not to cry again.

Across from them, on the other side of the big, stone box, Egom Cillian stood with his family. He'd met them before, he vaguely remembered, when the new Eika was announced – Reidory. She was there, too, though she looked more like one of the children than a wife. She'd given him treats at her wedding, and told him he was pretty.

He shook his head, reminding himself to pay attention to what the man in robes was saying, even if he didn't really understand the words. He had wondered why they weren't being said in his language, but mama told him it was because of something called tradition. He had no idea what that was, but again, he was trying not to bother her with questions.

He watched Brexton's mouth move silently, mimicking the robed man's words. Did he speak tradition? His eyes – silver, like the ring on mama's hand – lifted, meeting Marek's. His mouth stopped moving, formed a soft smile.

Marek smiled back, because Brexton was nice to him at the wedding, too, taking him outside to play when he didn't want to sit still anymore. In exchange, he'd shared some of the candy Reidory had given him.

The man in robes stopped talking, and everyone took turns walking up to the large box, rubbing their hands over the smooth stone, or leaving flowers on top. Marek eyed the flowers greedily, wondering if he could take a few for himself, but he forgot all about them when mama's hands started shaking, fat tears falling from behind the black veil that covered her face.

...

"Marek!" Brexton called out to him as soon as he and mama stepped out of the coach.

Mama let go of his hand, nodding that it was alright for him to go off on his own. He watched her head inside the palace with some of his father's men, while Brexton approached him, carrying a small child in his arms. She had thick hair that looked like Marek's, and big blue eyes.

"We're going to play in the gardens." Brexton explained, nodding behind him – toward Reidory. "Do you want to come?"

He brightened, his mood lifting as he accepted Brexton's outstretched hand. It was cold, much colder than mama's, but he didn't mind it too much. "What are we playing?"

"Hmm... how about hide-away?"

"I'm really, really good at that game!"

Brexton laughed, leading him to the side of the palace.

"Brexton! If you don't put Finnoula down once in a while, she'll never learn to walk!" Reidory scolded them when they got near, wrangling the child out of his hold and setting her down on the ground. "I swear, you spoil her too much."

"It can't be helped, Kiga." Brexton shrugged his large shoulders. "She is my bond, after all. Plus, I like spoiling her." He stopped, his fingers loosening as he glanced around the garden. "Where did Torin go?"

Reidory's face clouded for a moment, reminding Marek of mama's. Her smile, when it came, was tight-lipped – like the smiles his father's men had been giving him for days.

"He said he didn't want to play." She turned to Marek, bending down to stroke her fingers through his long hair. "If it isn't my sweet little nephew! Are you going to join in?"

"He's going to be my special helper", Brexton announced, giving him a quick nudge. "How about boys against girls? We'll be 'it', first."

The other girl, who Brexton introduced as Einnet, ran off to hide along with Reidory and Finnoula. Brexton and Marek covered their eyes, counting out loud until they reached twenty-five.

They had already found Einnet, curled up under a bench, and were off looking for Reidory when a loud voice disrupted their game.

"Reidory! Where are you?!"

Brexton's eyes widened, and he tugged Marek behind a row of nearby hedges, pressing against the top of his head in a silent command to duck. "New game, Marek. We're hiding from that man, okay?"

"Why?"

Brexton placed a finger over his mouth, shushing him instead of giving him an answer.

"Reidory! Come out here, now!"

He heard a rustling sound somewhere nearby, and the sound of running feet.

"I'm right here, Lazzari. There's no need to shout."

"What are you doing out here? Look at your hair, it's a mess." There were a few moments of quiet, followed by, "We're going inside, try to behave yourself."

"But we're still play–"

There was a loud sound – like hands clapping – then quiet crying.

"Enough nonsense. You are an Eika, and you should be inside with the adults... Unless you'd rather go back home, hmm?"

"N–no, sir."

"Good, then give that thing back to Einnet and follow me."

"Who was that?" Marek asked, once Brexton stood up again, peeking carefully over the hedges.

"Reidory's egomija... and my father. Come on, let's go back to Einnet."

Marek thought Brexton would offer his hand again, but he didn't. Instead, he held his hands at his side – curled into fists, with a thin layer of ice covering them.

The frost vanished as they approached the benches, meeting up with Einnet.

"Lazzari just–"

"We heard. Aww, did he scare you, Finny?" Brexton scooped Finnoula out of her arms, cradling the small girl to his chest. "I've got you now, so don't worry." He turned his attention back to Einnet, his expression growing more serious. "You should find Torin, tell him what happened. Whatever you do, don't let Lazzari see you, got it?"

Einnet promised that she'd be careful and ran off in search of the other boy, leaving the three of them alone in the garden.

For a long while, Brexton didn't say anything, just watched her leave until they couldn't see her anymore. Finnoula squirmed in his arms, and this snapped him out of whatever he was thinking about. He shifted her weight up on his shoulder and turned back to Marek.

"We don't have enough people for hide-away, anymore, but would you like to throw some snowballs?"

Marek scrunched his face, sure that Brexton was teasing him. It wasn't anywhere near time for snow. The leaves weren't even gold yet.

Before he could point that out, Brexton set the baby on the ground. He pulled a small stick out of his pocket, and waved it through the air. Marek could hardly believe his eyes. Snow! All over the ground at their feet, and it was the perfect sort for building or throwing.

"Can you really make snow, just like that?" Marek asked, staring up at him with the most intense admiration he'd ever felt in his young life.

"It's not a big deal, really. I have an ice mija, so I can do things like this." He bent down, encouraging Finnoula to touch the fluffy white snow. "Someday, I'll use it to protect Finny, here. Your mother has a bond, doesn't she?"

Marek thought hard, but he couldn't recall knowing anybody like that. Here in the palace, there were only the servants, and father's men. "I don't think so."

"Brex!" The other boy, the one with the fiery red hair – just like Reidory's, skidded to a stop right at the edge of the snow, frowning down at them. "He'll catch you, you know."

"We're just having a little fun. Besides, he already went in."

"Did he– he took Dory in with him?"

Brexton tucked the wand away, busying himself with collecting snow in his big hands. "Yeah, a little bit ago. Scolded her for playing with us, then dragged her away to be with the adults. Didn't Einnet tell you as much?"

"She did." He nudged a small pile of snow with the toe of his boot, staring down at the pattern his sole left behind. "It's fine, isn't it? She's one of them now."

Brexton frowned, standing to hurl the snowball at the older boy's face. "I hate it when you sound like him."

Marek tried to ignore their bickering, gathering up snow to form something resembling a brick. It was hard to do, especially with Finnoula trying to 'help', but he managed it. After that, he made another, and another, creating a ring with them.

"Do what you want..." Torin said, eventually, storming away.

"Idiot." Brexton mumbled it, but Marek heard it well enough. "How about that snowball fight, now?"

Marek nodded enthusiastically, crushing one of his bricks to make the first ball, his sad attempt at building a castle completely forgotton.

They played outside until the servants called them in for dinner. Brexton made all of the snow vanish with just a snap of his fingers, which Marek thought was an even better trick than when he'd made it appear in the first place.

"Brexton?"

"You can just call me Brex. Almost everyone does."

"Brex..." He tried it out, deciding he liked it much better. "How come Reidory doesn't want to go home?" He walked alongside Brexton, hopping over the cracks in the cobblestone.

"She's afraid of the dogs."

"Oh..." He didn't really understand why anyone would be afraid of dogs, or what that had to do with going home, but he pretended to. There were lots of things he was afraid of, so it made a little sense.

They were sat around a big table, with more food than Marek thought he'd ever seen before in his life being served on the good, silver dishes. Marek picked a seat between Brexton and Einnet, and the two of them snuck their vegetables onto his plate, saying he'd get big if he ate them. He could tell it was a trick, but he ate them anyway.

"Getting tired?" Brexton cocked his head to peek down at him, letting Marek lean against his arm.

"A little. Are you staying here tonight?"

"Yup. It's a long way back to Terracia, so we're not leaving until morning."

"Will you sleep in my room? I used to sleep with mama, but she won't let me anymore."

Brexton looked around the table, like he wanted to ask someone about it, but didn't know who. "Sure."

[ramthepatriarchy]

I'm quiet. I always have been. I live in my own brain, going over things over and over again.

From a very young age I was exposed to pornographic material, from someone who was my guardian. As a kid, you don't realize what harm that can do and how can confusing it can be.

No one really wanted to spend time with me growing up, except for my Grandfather, who thankfully lived across the road. I was always bothering someone, I should occupy my own time. No one is here to entertain. I spent a lot of my life feeling lonely in a house that had more than two people.

I was a big girl when I was little. My family teased me relentlessly and told me if I didn't stop eating so much, I'd be so fat by the time I'm 16 that no one would ever love me. Doctor told my mother to leave me alone, she didn't listen. Now I'm 32, and go through periods of starvation if I feel like I'm gaining weight because if I'm fat "no one will love me." My cousins used to grab my fat and call me rice rolls, would make fun of my double chin, my fat arms. Once I left a pair of my jeans at my Aunt's house, her and her daughter both got into each of the legs of my jeans and took a picture, with smug looks on their faces.

When I didn't want birthday cake at my Uncle's birthday, my Aunt open handed slapped me across the face. I didn't want cake because they always shamed me when I would eat junk food.

Once, when I was a kid, my mother was so mad at me, she claimed she was going to find a foster family for me. She dropped me off across the road at my Grandfather's and took off. And didn't come back for HOURS.

I've been kicked out of the family home three times already, only to be gaslighted and told that I was NEVER told that. The first time I spent the night in the park. The last time I was kicked out, my stepson was there and I was coming back to take care of them. Mother adamantly said that I was NOT allowed to come back and then cried wolf to the whole community that I "dumped" them on her. Treated my new boyfriend like shit, even though she knew nothing about him, the situation and just assumed. It's a theme that she knows EVERYTHING.

When my mother and stepfather separated, all she could was badmouth him. Tell me how he was a fat, lazy prick that couldn't get his dick up.

I've often heard the phrase "if it wasn't for you and your Grandfather, I would have had a life" and "there's always just been... something off with her" as well as "I love you but I don't have to like you" and "who do YOU think YOU are?" Clearly not anyone you care about, that's for sure.

When I wiped out on my scooter at like 50 mph and smashed the whole side of my face up, she didn't take me to the hospital and just proceeded to wake me up every five minutes so I didn't fall into a coma. I'm still convinced that I managed to acquire some brain damage from that.

When teased relentlessly st school for being fat and a myriad of other things, her response was to "ignore them." The only time she came into school and caused a fuss is when I came down with head lice and had to stay home from school and she only protested because she couldn't have her fucking alone time.

Bled through my clothes in high school. Called mom to see if she could bring me a change of clothes, to which she yelled at me to use common sense and bring spare underwear next time. She didn't drop me off any clothes.

My stepdad is a long haul trucker so he'd be gone from Sunday night to Friday night. If I'd get in trouble on a Monday, she'd withhold love, stick me with the cold shoulder and silent treatment until the weekend and then would allow my stepfather to get mad at me because I "ruined his weekend." So if they managed to get into a fight because of me on that weekend, she'd withhold love, stay upstairs and leave me alone to occupy myself for a whole other week. She's a master at holding grudges.

I was often involved in fights between them. My bedroom was connected to the laundry room so I often was dragged in there and told how horrible the other parent was.

I've been verbally attacked by more than one of my family members at the same time. They love to use me as a doormat and a scapegoat.

My cousin is so deathly jealous of my relationship with our Grandfather that at his funeral, she said "I don't know why I'm here, I hated the bastard anyway." This is the woman who dated a guy who pissed the bed, EVERY DAY and used to steal my mother's used underwear. Whenever she used to visit my Grandfather, he would put all his valuables in his room, padlock and chain the door closed because she was a THIEF.

My mother's side of the family either married a child molester, housed one or both. My Aunt's first husband molested both my mother and Tanya but yet, the sun shines out of my Aunt's ass. My cousin June married her husband Phil who was a LITERAL kiddy diddler and was dying from cancer. I was always told not to go into Phil's fucking room and now I know why.

I was super excited for a field trip and being a kid, I wanted to go so badly. So I kept bothering my mother, and she kept telling me that we didn't have the money. So, being a kid, I went into my room and had a meltdown. She came into my room, screaming that this is all she had and if I was happy now, all the while throwing pennies at me. Then afterwards she punched me in the shoulder, gave me the finger and stomped out of my room. I wasn't a teenager yet. I was in bunk beds still.

My mother was hooked on codeine but now she's on Kratom and if you didn't know, Kratom is an herb that has been used experimentally to help people with drug addictions. I do believe she takes about 12 caplets.

As an adult, she's accused me of lying about all of this, being a narcissist and will only go to therapy with me if I take a lie detector test. Anything I do, anything I say, anything I try, is just never quite enough.

In most of these cases, the sole blame is placed on me. Every fight, every altercation was caused because of ME and she's innocent. She's never done anything wrong. She has a victim complex. A lie detector test is selfish and only for her, to clear her name. I want to go to therapy so we can try to save this mother/daughter relationship that has been so toxic. Apparently what we want and our values aren't the same. I don't know if I should just give up. She's practically 60. Narcissists don't change.