#OH MY GOD Y'ALL HAVE NO IDEA HOW GOOD IT FEELS TO DRAW A PROPER COMIC I feel free again.....

[softichill]

This will be a full comic later but for now I wanna show off the first page :]

[sassy-ahsoka-tano]

DADDY ISSUES - Part Seven: Friends

Character/Fandom: Elvis - Elvis (2022)

Prompt: Now that you're all moved in and set up, what do you have to look forward to in your relationship as Elvis Presley's sugar baby? [ Fem!Reader ]

TW: sad reader, angst, guilt/shame as a result of sexual activity, elvis being a bit of a fucktard ngl

Rating: M || Word Count: 3985

A/N: i hope y'all are enjoying still!! i can't tell you how many ideas spurred while writing these chapters. i literally had a web of ideas that i somehow managed to weave all into this little fic lol

Song Rec: friends - anne marie and marshmello

This is Part 7 of Daddy Issues. Find the rest of the series here!

[ masterlist | taglist ]

🦋 mila

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“Am I allowed to date or see other people or is this an exclusive thing?”

Elvis’ eyebrows shoot up when you ask the question and you can tell that he wasn’t expecting it. His eyes drop to the floor and eyebrows furrow as he considers what you’ve asked. After a few moments of tense silence, he clears his throat and glances back up at you with a tight smile.

“Course you can see other people. We ain’t an item or nothin. It’s just a convenient relationship for both of us. Doesn’t mean we can’t be friends, but doesn’t mean we gotta be lovers neither.”

You nod, offering a small smile. His eyes fall to your finger and he smirks.

“That’s a good girl. Lemme see,” he says, scooting forward and holding out his palm.

You drop your hand into his and he gently runs his fingers over it with the hint of a smile on his face. His calloused fingertips ghost over your knuckle and then onto the ring resting snugly on your finger. You take a deep breath, the feeling of your touch on his palm making you giddy and excited.

“See you doin so good already followin my rules. This ring’ll tell everybody important that you’re with me. Looks good on ya, princess,” he says with a nod. “You like it?”

“Oh absolutely, Mr. Presley,” you say, automatically defaulting to his proper name. You feel like you should treat him respectfully, or maybe you’re addressing him as your boss? You aren’t sure but the urge to be formal is suddenly extremely present in the room. “It’s the most beautiful ring I’ve ever seen and definitely not something that I could ever afford on my own. Thank you so much for gifting it to me.”

“Don’t mention it,” he says, waving dismissively. “It’s payment for our first appointment. This was the arrangement we agreed to and I stick to my promises. There’s more to come, I’m sure.”

Your lips part as you watch his gaze fade from sunny blue eyes to a dark, serious expression. He emphasizes the word come, pausing after he speaks the word. He draws it out, licking his tongue over his lips before finishing the sentence. You desperately hope you’re not reading too much into it, because you do desperately want him to be talking about you.

Everything in your body wants him to touch you and make you feel things you’ve never experienced in your life. The first time you saw him in 1956, you wanted him. Other girls may also want him, but not like you. They don’t want him like you do. The lust he planted then has done nothing but grow since that day. For god’s sake, it possessed you, the most unlikely person in the world, to slide out of your panties and offer them up to a complete stranger who you’d probably never see again. Elvis’ voice jerks you out of your awe.

“Which reminds me, what sorta payments do you want? I don’t wanna get you nothin you dont like.”

“Oh, uh, I guess I’ve never really thought about it. Well, I like necklaces and rings. Um, I’m more of a pants girl than dresses but I still like nice dresses and things. Um…”

“Noted,” he replies.

Silence settles as his eyes trace over your figure. You’re becoming more comfortable with him doing that, since he does it pretty constantly. The little problem of your debts and bills rises to the forefront of your mind and you consider adding to the list since that’s what you really need to be paid off, but before you can say anything else, he curls his finger and motions for you to come over to him.

Your core starts to swell with excitement and you actively fight the smile that wants to cross your face. You take a few steps closer to him and sit down on his lap, just as you had the other day. You already feel a bit more comfortable this time as you rest your hands on his chest and his hands gently cup your thighs. You stay still, waiting for instructions which he promptly provides.

“Tilt your head up for me,” he says and you gulp before obeying, lengthening your chin out so that he can see your neck better.

His fingers gently rise up toward your skin, ghosting across your throat and the sensitive skin underneath your jawline. Your eyes flutter and threaten to close but you force them to remain open. He just gently closes his fingers around your throat, not all the way but enough that your breath audibly shudders. You gulp your nerves down as your pussy begins to throb with desire for him. Just as you’ve resolved to lean down and kiss him, he pulls his fingers away.

“You got a pretty neck, princess. Perfect for my hand. I think a necklace would work nicely for you.”

You hover in the space between you, resisting the strongest urge to smash your lips against his. Your entire body is slowly aching for him, but is it okay for you to make a move? Despite his loveliness in answering your questions, you’re still confused as to how all of this works. Plus, now that you’re relying totally and completely on Elvis to sustain you financially, you’re terrified of making a mistake that’s unfixable. Just as your head begins to bob forward with a burst of confidence, your nerves get the better of you and you just hover anxiously. You clear your throat and Elvis continues the conversation.

“Is jewelry what you like best? Or dresses or what?”

“Um, I guess I’ve never really thought about it, honestly. I…don’t have much of a preference,” you reply with a lackluster shrug. “I could use some new clothes. But, of course the jewelry is also very nice. Um…sorry, I just feel very awkward saying these things.”

You laugh nervously but he shakes his head.

“Why’s that?”

“Well,” you suddenly laugh as you realize what it feels like and that image begins to surface in your mind, “honestly, it feels a bit like sitting on Santa’s lap and telling him what I want for Christmas. I’m just not very used to asking for things, like material things.”

“But that’s how you get what you want. Y'ask for it.”

“I guess so, yeah. But that’s usually not how it works for normal people, and it’s certainly never worked out that way for me. I hardly ever get what I ask or pray for. God has favorites and I really don’t think I’m one of them,” you reply with a weak chuckle. “Besides, I’m just not the kind of person who places a lot of value on material objects or gifts or anything. I don’t need all that many things, to be honest. Just the basics, although these are very tempting and it feels good to own them. They’re not really necessary in the grand scheme of things, you know what I mean?”

“But that’s what I’m here for. I ain’t got no issue giving you whatever you want. All you gotta do is ask, princess, and it’s yours.”

“I’m not used to that. People like me don’t just get the things we ask for. We have to work for them.”

“Not anymore, doll,” he smiles, leaning forward to whisper against your cheek. “Ask and it’s yours.”

You smile in awe as Elvis pulls back.

“Stand up, over there,” he gestures toward the middle of the room. You nod and carefully remove yourself from his lap to stand on the mark he’s given you. Once there, you await his directions. “Take the dress off. Just the top. I wanna see you better.”

You nod and turn away from him to spice things up. You shakily lift the strap of your dress up and off of your shoulder, glancing over your skin at Elvis who watches you hungrily. You let the strap fall, exposing the skin of your shoulder to him. The slow speed with which you’re stripping is putting both you and him through an uncomfortable tenseness that only grows when you drop the other strap down. The dress, being held up mostly by the straps, elegantly falls off your chest and pools around your waist where it’s cinched in a little tighter. You reach up for the strap to your bra, but Elvis stops you.

“No. There’s good enough,” he says. “Turn around.”

You obey him, spinning around so he can get a good look at your entire body. He rubs his slender fingers over his lips, tugging them out lazily. You stand still like a statue before him until he gestures for you to come closer.

“Come here. Right here. All the way this time.”

He points to the space between his legs, a spot that has become rather familiar to you already. You can’t help the smile that spreads onto your cheeks as you step toward him.

He leans forward, his fingers taking hold of your waist. They gingerly trail up the bare skin of your waist, so lightly that you feel goosebumps spreading across your skin. He traces his fingers around to your front, ghosting over your breasts underneath the bra. He curls his fingers around your chest and squeezes firmly. You release a contented breath and close your eyes at the sensation, what little of it there even is. It’s more than you’ve gotten from him so far. He squeezes a few more times, saying nothing, before he releases your breasts.

You instinctively follow his grasp as it retreats. Your eyes fly open in disappointment and he slides further down into the red velvet chair. He tugs gently on the zipper to his jumpsuit while staring intensely into your eyes.

“You know what to do, darlin."

Unfortunately, you do know what to do, although you’d love to do something else right now. It might only be the second time you’ve sucked him off, you hope this time will be different. You hope this time you’ll get to share in the receiving end. Glancing up into his bright blue eyes, you have an idea. You lean over him, trying to push your breasts near his face in the hopes that you’ll tempt him enough to put some effort into pleasing you. You pause for a few seconds, waiting for him to grasp your chest.

When he doesn't respond, you reach down to grasp the zipper. His hand snakes onto yours, gripping your fingers away from his suit. You glance up at him in confusion

"I liked what you did the other night with your teeth," he says, his eyes falling down to your lips. "Do it like that again."

You gently maneuver yourself onto the floor on your knees and catch the zipper between your teeth. This time, you unzip the jumpsuit slowly, maintaining eye contact with Elvis all the way down. You spread the leather of his jumpsuit aside so you can access him. His white boxer briefs are familiar to you now. You glance sneakily up at the clock in the corner of the room to see that you only have about five minutes until show time.

As much as you appreciate his trying to get to know you better, you’re desperate for some physical attention. You’ve been responsible for taking care of yourself for the last five years or so and, quite frankly, you’re just tired of it. Having a man touch you for once is a need that’s rekindled every time he dares to touch you.

But with only five minutes left, you waste no time, yanking his underwear off and wrapping your fingers around his length. You immediately start to pump him, licking the tip of his dick with your tongue. He releases a satisfied sigh and leans back into the chair. You glance up to see his head tilted toward the ceiling with his eyes completely closed. You feel pleased with yourself but frustrated at his passivity. You yank him into your mouth and harshly bob your head up and down on top of him.

He groans and moans in approval. Your eyes flash wide when his hand sneaks down your chest to massage your breasts through your bra. You hum against his length as he pinches your nipple between his fingers. You shift closer to him, hoping he'll touch you harder. While the sensation is very welcome, you need so much more.

As your head bobs up, your eyes flick up toward him again to see that he hasn’t moved, other than his hips which are beginning to buck up into your mouth as he matches your pace. You squeeze your eyes shut, suddenly feeling the urge to cry. You continue to bob up and down on his dick as you fight back the emotion that’s flooding into your chest painfully.

You feel him start to twitch in your mouth and pump your hand harder on his length. A few seconds later, his hips are bucking into your lips and his hot cum is slipping down your throat. You gulp it down begrudgingly, the taste almost sour on your tongue. Your body shudders with the displeasure of the action and the taste but mostly with how it made you feel at the moment.

You drop your head immediately, focusing on the floor below you as Elvis reassembles himself to go back out for the show which starts in just a few minutes. You squeeze your eyes shut tightly, wanting to transport yourself completely from this situation into a different time and place, somewhere you’re safe and alone. On his way out, Elvis places his hand on your head and gives your hair a little muss. His fingers slip down to your chin, lifting your gaze to his. You reluctantly open your eyes and he smirks down at you slightly.

“Such a good girl,” he murmurs before making his way toward the door.

You keep yourself upright until you hear the door shut behind him. As soon as the lock clicks, you feel your face screwing up. You keel over onto your hands and knees, your arms shaking with the emotion that is coursing through your body. You curl onto your knees and sit back on them, resting your forehead on the scratchy carpet below you. Tears start to pool by your eyes and you don’t stop them as the warm liquid falls from your eyes to stain the carpet below you. You curl your arms around your shoulders as your body shakes and you cry.

He had his chance to pleasure you and he didn’t take the hints, which you thought were very obviously being given to him. Now, it’s too late. You feel worthless, disgusting, dirty. You understand that you wholeheartedly gave yourself up to Elvis when you agreed to become his sugar baby but you assumed the arrangement would be mutual.

You should be stronger than this; this shouldn’t bother you so much. You are the one who agreed to this, who decided to accept the proposal. You’re just reaping the consequences of your actions, the ones Steve warned you about. But for some unplaceable reason, it hurts. A lot.

On the other hand, while you realize how silly and dramatic it is to be upset when you’ve just begun, the emotions that are running through your veins are so strong. And considering that you’ve relocated your entire life over the last week, it’s probably understandable that you’re feeling so overwhelmed.

After a few more tears sneak out, you sniffle and wipe your runny nose on your arm, not caring about the stickiness spreading onto your skin. You don’t have anyone to look pretty for anymore. And the one person you did choose to look nice for doesn’t seem to have any interest in you other than using you as a personal fleshlight. As moments of anger and embarrassment pulse through your veins, you pull yourself together with a few deep breaths.

You weren’t really in the mood for giving him a blowjob even when you got dressed to come downstairs tonight. But he asks and you provide. As he said earlier, ‘all you gotta do is ask and it’s yours’. As you dry your tears, that phrase starts to circle in your brain. Ask and it’s yours… If that’s what he wants. That’s what he’ll get. Why can’t you take the reins a little? You’re half of the deal, after all.

You stand, fix your hair and your dress, wipe off your tears and snot and grab your purse. You exit the dressing room with the confidence of someone who simply doesn’t have the will to care anymore.

As you trudge out of the dressing room, not bothering to pause before the door to listen for anyone passing, you keep your eyes glued to the floor beneath you. You shrug your bag over your shoulder and pull the bottom of your dress down harshly, trying to get the stubborn fabric to stay put. When your body slams into another, you momentarily lose your footing and feel yourself careening toward the floor. Luckily, whoever you bumped into manages to catch you at the last moment. With a panting breath, you glance up to see one of the most handsome men you’ve ever seen in your life. He helps you to your feet as you feel heat creeping into your face.

“Uh…thanks,” you say nervously. “I’m so sorry about that.”

He chuckles, leaning down to pick up your purse, which you hadn’t even realized you’d dropped during the collision. Your eyes widen as you notice the black lingerie poking out from inside the bag. You wonder if he notices, although he doesn’t mention or allude to it at all when he carefully hands the bag back to you. You snatch it quickly from his hands, sneakily reaching your hand in to push the lingerie back into its hidden place.

“It’s no big deal. It’s my fault for being so clumsy,” he says, flashing a crooked smile at you.

As his straight white teeth sparkle in the light of the hallway, you can’t help but grin back at him. A few moments of silence pass before one of you gets the courage to say something else.

“So…do you work here?” he asks, gesturing to your outfit.

“Oh, uh, sorta. I’m part of Mr. Presley’s…” your eyes wander quickly around your environment, desperately searching for an excuse that doesn’t involve your chest and face being covered in Elvis' cum. You suddenly see someone pass carrying a case of makeup and your face brightens. “...makeup crew. I’m one of his makeup consultants.”

“You do his makeup?”

“Well, I just sort of check it to make sure it’s up to standard, you know. The eyeliner and such,” you pull out as much knowledge of makeup as you can possibly access in your brain as your heart beats rapidly in your chest.

You know you shouldn’t be embarrassed to admit what you really do here, but you still feel too ashamed to fess up to it. You know there’s no way that this stranger is actually buying the idea that you’re a makeup artist for Elvis, considering what you’re wearing and the fact that your own makeup is probably smudged hideously from the crying and snotting all over.

“Cool. I’m one of the stagehands, so I carry some of the props onstage and help with the curtains and all that.”

“Oh, that’s super cool!” you say, folding your arms over your chest. “How did you get into that?”

“My mom was a singer back in the day, so I’ve always been around sets. How did you get into…what you do?”

“Oh, it’s just a job for money. There’s nothing that special about it, honestly.”

“Working that closely to Elvis Presley isn’t special?”

“He’s not as amazing as you’d think, actually,” you reply with a curt smile as you reflect on all the disappointments you’ve already experienced since becoming his sugar baby. “But it pays the bills.”

“I can understand that,” he says, staring down into your eyes.

You’ve been truthful with him, besides admitting what you do. Although you can’t explain why, you want this man to think highly of you. Elvis did say that you could date other people, so why shouldn’t you take a stab at this one. He’s handsome with curly brown locks, deep brown doe eyes, and a nicely shaped face. He’s very tall and decently built; you guess he has to be pretty strong to be able to toss set pieces around.

You abruptly stick your hand out for him to shake. His eyebrows raise but he takes your hand in his, giving it two solid pumps. You wiggle your fingers, assuming he’s going to release your hand but he holds onto it for a few seconds longer than you’re expecting. You smile sweetly as he releases your fingers slowly. You drag them across his palm and resist the urge to shudder with excitement.

It’s been upwards of five years since you last had a serious boyfriend, so the thought of maybe finding someone after all this time is extremely appealing. Not to mention that you’re desperate for some physical pleasure. With all of this teasing and leading-up to nothing, you’re starting to get fed up and very tired of the constant lack of tension relief.

“I’m Y/N,” you say.

“I’m-”

“Max!” someone shouts from a different spot in the backstage area. “Stop flirting and get your ass over here to help with the curtains!”

Your eyes shift toward a man yelling orders who you assume is in charge of the stagehands and the backstage activities. Max glances back at you with a shrug.

“Duty calls. Will I…see you here tomorrow?”

“Uh…no, probably not. I don’t think I work tomorrow and I have another job that I have to take care of on the side,” you lie, not too excited about the idea of coming down here more than necessary.

“Oh, damn. Well, what days do you work?”

“It’s sort of unpredictable, to be honest,” you can feel your palms growing sweaty with his constant questioning.

“Alright. Cryptic but alright,” he laughs, reaching up to scratch the back of his neck. You bite your lip as you watch his biceps flex. If you were wondering, your question has now been answered. He’s strong strong. “Guess I’ll just have to hang out around here every day until I see you again.”

“Oh…” you drop your gaze, embarrassed and flattered by his charming flirting. “Well in that case, maybe I can make an exception for you. Here.”

You snatch a pen from the table next to you and scribble the number to your hotel room on his palm.

“You can reach me here. If you ever want to hang out or need help or, well, whatever,” you offer.

“And what if I need something tonight? I can call you then?”

You chuckle and bite your lip at his goofy smile.

“You can call whenever. And I’ll decide if I want to pick up or not.”

“Max Carver!” the stage manager shouts and Max jumps.

“Well, it was nice to meet you, Max. I’ll hope to see you again some time.”

“If I have anything to say about it, you will," he replies with a wink and a handsome grin.

You turn and start on your way out of the backstage area as you hear the stage manager shouting instructions to Max. You smile to yourself, just a little bit smitten with him.

As you pass the trash can on the way out, you click open your purse and pull the black lingerie out. You drop it into the can and get on your way back upstairs without giving the piece of clothing a second thought.

─────•~❉᯽❉~•─────

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[glowingbadger]

Hi it’s me, crawling through the window. Would it be possible to get a crumb of arranged marriage w/ Hubert? His line w/ Dorothea about being willing to get married for politics sake has fueled my brain rot for him.

Good God I need to secure my windows-

I mean HELLO FRIEND ANON YES IT WOULD BE MY PLEASURE

Lol actually though, I have been thinking about this for Hubie since we all started chatting about that arranged marriage stuff! I think it's a perfect concept for him~

This like... got weird while I was writing it though?? Idk man hahaha it ended up on the less-spicy side of what I usually write, and with some very weird dialogue in places... Idk, I hope y'all like it. Maybe if there's interest, I'll follow this up eventually with a more smut-focused piece?

I've been traveling and working so much lately that I just don't even know what writing is anymore or how it works hahaha

TW: A brief mention of non-con

Hubert (FE3H) x Reader ("wife," neutral pronouns)

Arranged Marriage - semi spicy i guess?

"Frankly, he's a pain," Linhardt must be able to see your surprise and confusion written across your face. He goes on, "He's reliable and capable, of course, but also the most persistent nag you'll ever meet. Actually, no-" he glances upward as though to cross reference his own thoughts, "No, her Majesty is worse. But Hubert is a close second to be sure. Always on and on about sleep schedules and proper nutrition and etiquette..." He sighs and closes the massive tome on his lap, as though to close the conversation with it, "frankly, he's an insufferable mother hen. Does that help?"

"Well, it's... Not what I expected," you admit with a shrug, "but thank you all the same."

~

It's been several weeks since the papers binding you in marriage to Hubert Von Vestra had been signed- and this alone had sufficed. No ceremony, no grand ball, just paperwork and a handshake with your father. A handshake that ensured that, even under the Empire's unification, he would maintain nominal control over his considerable portion of land, and in return, would swear absolute loyalty to her Majesty. It was a beneficial arrangement for all parties, and you were not ignorant to the part you played. You were hardly even a bargaining chip- moreso, a hostage.

Your new husband had made no secret of what manner of harm may befall you if your family were to renege on their deal. Fortunately, you know your father to be a reliable coward, so you have no reason to believe he would be bold enough to step out of line.

Hubert Von Vestra is a terrifying man. A zealously loyal man of storied cruelty and a frigid disposition. His frame looms over you whenever he's near, and though he's hardly placed a finger on you since you'd been given over to him, his mere presence is... arresting. There's a sort of charisma to him that's equal parts frightening and fascinating. Perhaps it's madness brought on by your circumstances, but you can't help wanting to glimpse just the slightest bit into that brilliant, ever churning mind.

Unsurprisingly, he has been resistant to your attempts to understand him. He hardly indulges you in small talk, and if you were the paranoid sort, you'd think he intentionally makes himself busy when you're around. Eventually, perhaps out of sheer stubbornness, you'd settled on a routine of bringing coffee to his study adjoined to your bedroom in the evenings. He'd been visibly surprised the first time. It wasn't until the fourth night that he'd given a curt "thank you." About two weeks in, he'd actually sat back in his chair and laid down his quill pen to receive the cup from your hands. After a month, he'd leveled his narrow gaze at you and said,

"I cannot begin to fathom what satisfaction you glean from playing 'maid' to me."

"Well, I, uhm," you hadn't expected him to address you so directly, but you managed to say, "You... work so hard, I wanted to do something for you, I suppose."

His expression is inscrutable as he replies,

"You are aware that my work was much the same before you arrived."

"I am," you say softly, "But- all the same..." you trail off, and Hubert seems content to let the matter rest. And so you leave him be amidst his reports and correspondence, coffee at his side on the desk. Yet for as unproductive as your exchange might have seemed, it does leave you with an idea. The thought to learn about the man from those who knew him long before your arrival at the capitol.

~

Your investigation into the true character of your husband does not stop with Linhardt. In fact, his testimony only leaves you with further questions. But perhaps the others would say otherwise; perhaps the United Empire's most up and coming crest scholar simply inspires maternal behavior. This has to be the case- you simply can't imagine that the notoriously ruthless heir of the even more notorious Vestra lineage would be so... Doting.

And yet the more you learn of him, the more contradictory he seems.

Caspar's take is much like Linhardt's- a picture of a man far closer to a school marm than any assassin or master of torture. Ferdinand seems both smitten and incensed by him, oscillating wildly between the two. Then eventually, to your shock, Bernadetta takes the initiative to speak to you about Hubert of her own accord.

"I'm, uh, really so-sorry to bother you!" she approaches with arms drawn close to her chest and eyes resolutely avoiding yours, "I- I just heard that you were... asking about Hubert, so, I, uh..."

It takes some time to prompt her further. You assure her again and again- no, this isn't intrusive at all- yes, you'd very much like to hear her perspective- no, you're not mad at her. In truth, you're endlessly intrigued about what a gentle soul like Bernadetta would have to say about a man feared across the continent. Finally, she manages,

"He's... actually really kind!" she blurts out, as though the words would abandon her if she gave them the window of opportunity. Your eyebrows raise slightly.

"You think so..?"

"Yes, completely-!" she stammers, "I know he's super, super scary, and powerful and spooky and cold and, uh, all of that. But still," her voice falters as she continues, "He only scolds people when they do something dangerous. And he only hurts people to protect others. I... I know he's done some te-terrible things. But... he's always been nice to Bernie," finally, she meets your eyes with an imploring look in hers, "So, uh, I'm really grateful to him. And I think it would be really nice for someone to reach out to him. If... if that's not too weird or anything. For you."

You smile warmly and nod,

"Thank you, Bernadetta. I know it can't be easy for you to come to me with all of this, but... I'd like to try, if I can."

The opportunity doesn't come in the way you expect.

At first, it seems the night will proceed like many others before. You bring a cup of coffee to your husband's desk, setting it down quietly so as to not disturb him. He's silent, but this is common enough, so you head back to the bedroom to undress for the evening. All nights prior, he would lay beside you long after you'd settled in, then rise to resume work in the morning before you woke up- all the while never allowing your bodies to interact in any way.

Tonight, just as you're about to close the door to Hubert's study behind you, long fingers catch around your wrist, visibly startling you.

It's the most physical contact you've had to-date, but he only says,

"One moment."

You whip around to face him, a touch of anxiety evident in your eyes. It's clear in his own that he notices, but if anything, he only seems amused. He steps forward, his taller frame menacing you as he speaks,

"I understand that you have been busying yourself with some manner of investigation as of late."

It takes a moment for his meaning to reach you. When it does, your face burns and you can't bring yourself to meet his scrutinizing gaze,

"Oh, uhm..."

"I assure you, my dearest wife," he says with barely concealed venom, "anything that I do not wish for you to know will be kept from you. Aside from which, your efforts thus far have proven amateurish at best."

Something seems off about his tone. You could understand if he felt uncomfortable or hesitant about your efforts to learn about him, but this seems far more grave, more... business-like. He steps towards you once more, and you step back in turn. Yet before long, you feel your legs bump the edge of the bed. A gloved hand trails a fingertip down your jawline to your chin, then urges you to look up at him.

"Whatever you are planning, my dear, I promise it will be fruitless. You had best rethink how you spend your days before your actions bring you to harm."

"No, I-" your brow creases deeply, your face burns, your body burns hotter and you don't want to consider why, "I've just been trying to learn about you as a person, nothing else. We're- we're married, after all, so..."

He gives an abrupt, dry laugh.

"Ah, so I am to believe that you've been interrogating my allies out of some misguided affection, is that it?"

"Hubert, just listen to me!" for a moment, you feel bolstered, defiant, and you straighten your posture, "You won't tell me the first thing about you- the only way to learn so much as your favorite color is to ask someone who's known you for a decade!"

Briefly, he does seem to consider your words. But his eventual reply is as aloof as any prior,

"If you're no spy or politician, then you're worse- a fool." he says, and before you can respond, he's seized both of your wrists and pushed you back onto the bed. For a moment, the room spins and your voice leaves you. A shrewd eye watches you with cruel condescension as he pins you against the sheets.

"I should think that you'd be well aware what I'm capable of," he nearly whispers, "I personally ensured that the rumors spread through your father's territory and further still. Do you think that anyone would even dare lift a finger to help you if I chose to seek retribution for this recent behavior?" He draws nearer, his grip tighter at your wrists, "Perhaps as punishment, I'll simply take my pleasure from you by force."

Your lips tighten, you take a breath. Then, meeting his gaze directly, you reply,

"You won't."

His visible eye narrows.

"And what evidence do you have to prompt such unfounded confidence? Perhaps you have crafted a flattering falsehood of me in your mind," a mocking smirk curls his lips, "Am I a misunderstood sentimental sort to you, then? A sad, lonely man for you to save?"

You scowl, though you suspect it looks more like a pout to him.

"I don't know what I think of you yet- not completely. But I don't pity you like that, and I don't think you're sad or lonely. I know you're not."

For the first time, it seems that you've caught him off guard. That frigid mask falters for just a moment, and you go on before he can replace it,

"You're surrounded by people who care about you. I've seen it for myself. Whatever you've had to do in the service of your ideals- it hasn't kept the people around you from wanting to know and understand you, even if it's despite you."

Hubert is silent for a moment. His gaze bores into you like he thinks he'll discover some hidden layer if he can just keep digging. Then, he sighs,

"How did I ever become bound to such a troublesome spouse..."

When you wrest your arms from his grasp, his hands fall away with little resistance, and you think that perhaps he had never truly intended to keep you in place by force to begin with. He moves to leave the bed, but your fists find the front of his clothing and tug him back down to you.

You press your lips to his without hesitation, and you can feel him inhale sharply, his entire body rigid above you. His lips are surprisingly soft, his scent like coffee and old parchment, and though your heart threatens to burst from your chest, you hold firmly to him by his clothes. Near imperceptibly, he leans down against you, and your fear, along with any remaining doubts, begin to dissolve. Knowing he won't pull away, you let your hands relax against him, running up his chest where you can feel his own pulse pounding. It's so human, so entirely reasonable and normal. Now, at last, Hubert Von Vestra is merely a man of flesh and bone.

Your tongue meets his naturally, your lips parting in time with his as your kiss deepens to a fevered pace. One hand reaches that sharp, handsome jawline, reveling in the erotic sensation of his mouth moving against yours. And yet, all the while, his hands remain staunchly on the bed beside you. He doesn't touch you- doesn't even let his body meet yours.

It's impossible to tell whether passion or madness drives you to bring your teeth to his lower lip, a single insistent bite communicating desire mounting faster than you can contain. And for a moment, you sense something new; a sound catches in Hubert's throat, a reaction he fights to stifle. Then, he pulls away. His pale skin is tinted a rare shade of pink, and his hair is ruffled out of place enough to reveal both narrowed eyes. His cloak has spilled around his frame to surround you both, and somewhere in your frazzled mind, you imagine that you're caught in some beautiful, velvet-lined trap.

"I- must... return to my work." Hubert says stiffly. He pushes up from you and turns away, leaving you still flustered on the bed behind him. You sit upright, holding your arms tight around your body as you watch him straighten his hair and clothes.

"You, uhm..." your face reddens still as you search for the right words, "you could... join me in bed, if you liked."

Hubert turns to the door of his study, speaking without daring to even glance your way,

"Anything that you offer to me now will be born from the impulse to survive. I have been bargained with before." His shoulders slack just slightly, his voice low and sober, "The proudest nobleman will even sell off his own child to a monster if he feels it will spare him its teeth."

You open your mouth to protest, then shut it without a word. You feel that you know your mind and heart, even in this moment, but you lack the words to convince a man like this. In a feeble attempt, you murmur,

"You don't frighten me, Hubert. Not anymore."

He half turns toward you, though his hand remains on the handle of his study door.

"You yourself said that you do not know what you think of me," he says, "As such, I will not lay a hand on you until the day that you do."

You stare down at your hands in your lap, barely registering the sound of the door clicking shut as he leaves you in the bedroom. No matter how you try to sort out your tangled thoughts, the memory of his lips on yours won't leave them. If anything, it eclipses any sense of reason, standing resolutely in the way of your path to clarity. Letting out a groaning sigh, you fall onto your back on the bed, staring blankly at the ceiling as if it could offer you any advice.

What do I think about my own husband? You wonder, the thought nearly enough to make you laugh. Well for one, he's a pain.

[fluidityandgiggles]

Dalton Big Bang day 43 - Valentine

Writing Masterpost, AO3 Link

Notes: Also known as: Gigs tries to write jogan giving their son The Talk and failing miserably due to being a useless asexual.

One day. One fucking day. I'll write a full next gen fic, with all the kids, because y'all know by now I have headcanons for everything. And then y'all would get to see just how chaotic AJ Sotto and Parker Willis can be. But for now, this is about Johnny and his adorable Hanover boyfriend.

If there was a truth everyone in Dalton could agree on, it was that history teacher and Warblers coach, Mr. Wright, was a man you didn't want to cross. The unfortunate ones who were asked to meet with him privately refused to speak of what was told, and whether it was for good or bad reasons, nobody wanted to ask.

And then there were the students who visited his office without even being called. Johnny Larson-Wright, AJ Sotto, Parker Willis. Parker's older brothers graduated from Windsor and Stuart a few years ago, so that brand of crazy would make sense coming from them, but the others…

Well, Valentine Moore always thought people were crazy for assuming their teacher was such a bad man. He made Warblers practice enjoyable every time, gave people solos in a very fair manner, and yeah, maybe he was a bit strict. But he seemed nice enough.

But who was Valentine to say anything? He's never had a conversation alone with him. Maybe they were just exaggerating things!

Yeah, that had to be it!

...until the unfortunate day in late February when he was called in to Mr. Wright's office.

It was all everyone talked about the whole day. Johnny didn't make a fuss about it, unlike most of the others, which was reassuring and even more stressful in equal measures. Oh, how the mighty have fallen, straight-A student Valentine Moore must see the monster, maybe he fucked up real bad this time. Maybe they found out that he contributed to Johnny and AJ's bullshit—

No, wait, no. He does draw, it's his one coping mechanism, but no way they used his art for graffiti. Maybe… maybe it had to do with the homework he didn't turn in for history class? No, but he did it all, he just forgot his notebook by accident, Mr. Wright would probably understand! He must understand, it's not the first time, it's just—

"Stop pacing by my door, Moore," the teacher called, making Valentine freeze in place and start shaking. "You're not exactly invisible."

"I'm sorry, Mr. Wright." He just lowered his eyes and walked into the office, closing the door behind him. "Won't do so again."

"It's all good, I get that you're nervous. But there's nothing to be nervous about."

"Is it about the homework I forgot to turn in last week…?"

"No. I care less about the homework than I do about this subject." The teacher started tapping on the desk with his fingers, making Valentine shiver a bit more. "I understand you're seeing my son."

His stomach fell as his shaking stopped.

"I don't… what? No, you got it wrong, I just—"

"Wrong? Unless Johnny is dating another Valentine Moore, who goes to this school and boards in Hanover, and is a member of the Warblers, I have no reason to believe I got it wrong."

"I… I'll break up with him, sir, it's okay. I know I'm not…"

As Valentine started feeling tears fall down his cheek, he also felt a large hand take his, as he started a silent prayer in his mind.

"I'm not mad at you," Mr. Wright — Logan — told him. "In fact, I'm relieved. It seems like he's very serious about you. His father and I are very proud of him. But I'll tell you this. If you hurt my boy—"

"It's the end of me, I know. I'm so sorry, sir."

"...yeah. That's… yeah." As Valentine raised his eyes, he saw his teacher start to fumble a bit. That was unusual… "I didn't actually think I'll get this far, if I'm honest… I'm not allowed to hurt you, as your teacher. But do expect to have a talk again. If either of you get hurt. It's not just about him in this relationship, it's about you too."

"O— okay! Okay, thank you!"

"Now, about that homework—"

"Dad!" Interrupted a call as the door flung open, and in ran Johnny, red in the face and wholly amused. "AJ broke Ramsey's window by accident, we're gonna get killed! Help! Oh, hi Val!"

"Hi!" If Valentine smiled at that, it wasn't his fault. This was the best thing that happened today.

"I swear, when we got you into Stuart we hoped you'd do better than this," Mr. Wright sighed, getting up from his chair. "Excuse me, Moore, it seems like something more... urgent came up."

"Oh no, it's… it's all fine. I'll leave! It's okay!"

"I apologize, Moore."

As Valentine rushed to get up and leave, Logan put a hand on his son's shoulder, trying to make him calm down. The redness still persisted, but his smile cracked, and the twinkle of joy in his eyes teeny off as a blanket of disappointment fell on him.

"We're in trouble, aren't we?"

"You're not. AJ, though, is in so much trouble. Now show me the damage. I'll talk to Ramsey."

————

"So how are you guys doing?" Julian asked through FaceTime, watching his family eat dinner while he had his lunch break on set. Jerry, their newest cat, was also on the table to eat his own dinner. Natalie was paying more attention to him than she was to her dinner.

Johnny kinda wanted to poke her to answer him.

"We're all fine," Logan told him, ignoring the kids to a degree. "Did you watch the regionals video?"

"I did. So did half the cast. Good job on that. Nice song choices too, Squid."

"Thanks," Logan snorted, then turned to nudge Johnny. "Did you hear your pops?"

"I did." He went bright red. "I… I chose the second one."

Julian chuckled at that. "Yeah? No shit, Johnny. Was it inspired by someone special?"

"Yeah… I mean—"

"It certainly looked like it. Reminded me of the Hummel-Sottos back when we were juniors ourselves. Ugh, I can't listen to Raise Your Glass anymore without wanting to gag."

Johnny tried to hide. His dads were great, he never thought otherwise! Pops was the more lenient one, the more open one. The one with less dignity somehow. Probably from growing up in the spotlight and being in the public eye for so long. Dad was stricter, less… open, about all the embarrassing stuff, but he was also home more. Less absent than Pops. So he… knew more, about the kids. Pops was the one to go to with love problems, Dad was the one for any other issues.

Johnny loved them both equally. But they were both equally embarrassing, and that was a lot of embarrassing, and he really didn't want to talk to them about his love life.

"So who's the special someone?" Julian kept on teasing. "Who were you singing You're My Best Friend to?"

"Just…"

"Val," Natalie answered for him, making him choke. "He totally likes Valentine."

"Nat, shush."

"Well, did you tell him yet?" Julian raised an eyebrow, laughing a bit. "He doesn't seem like the guy to get… subtle flirting."

"He's my boyfriend now, okay?" Johnny snapped. "I… I told him. After the performance ended. And then we were together for Valentine's day and now we're together. Is that what you wanna hear?"

"...actually yes, that is what I want to hear. Honey, that's great! Does he make you happy? Do you two talk through your problems or do you keep them inside until you'll burn out like what happened when you were in fifth grade? Do you two fuck yet?"

"Pops!"

"Daddy! Ew!"

As Johnny pretended to gag, and Natalie ran off from the table to wash her mouth, Logan rolled his eyes with a smile and turned the call to face him more.

"They're doing alright, J. They're actually doing better than we did when we started going out. At least with the whole… communication thing."

"You assume we communicated ever," Julian joked, making Logan smile more. "I'm kidding… I'm just happy they're doing well. He seems like a good kid."

"Who, Valentine?"

"Yeah."

"He's great… a bit shy. Reminds me of Reed back when."

"Sounds like a blast. God… I miss you guys. I wanna be there, I wanna meet that kid honest and proper… would it be too weird to give them the sex talk through face cam?"

"I think it would be… a terrible idea, Jules. Please wait until you're back home."

"You forget I can still hear you guys!" Came the groan from Johnny, followed by a call from someone to remind Julian he needs to get dressed for his next scene.

"I love you too!" Julian called to Johnny, receiving a loud groan in return. "Lo, I love you so much."

"I love you too, J."

"I'll see you guys in a month, okay? Not too much left to wait. I'll try to find some of those Japanese kitkats you like."

"Thank you. Have a good day, Jules."

"Good night, Lo. Good night, kids!"

Logan hung up as Johnny mumbled a "yeah, yeah" and Natalie came back to the table, still gagging. 

"...okay, but did you?"

"Nat, I'm not answering that question!"

"Okay, sorry! Jeez!"

Yeah… this was his family now. Logan still struggled to believe this fact. But this was his family now.

————

"How about this argument stops now?" Johnny called right as Julian walked through the door that Saturday afternoon, to catch his husband and daughter standing on one couch and his son comforting a redhead stranger on the other. "It doesn't fucking matter who's a better partner for Mark, he's in a fucking coma. And besides, your screams are making him uncomfortable."

"Do I even want to know?" Julian asked as he dropped his bags, pulling Logan down from the couch so they could kiss. Much to the gagging noises coming from Natalie. "Hello, love."

"Hi, Jules."

"They're listening to The Bright Sessions again," Johnny tried to say, getting somewhat ignored. "It's just—"

"I'm going to my room!"

"Okay! Hello to you too, Natalie!"

That was all about an hour ago, and as things were now, Julian felt far more awake. He took a shower, unpacked his bags, made himself a cup of coffee and now got to cuddle with his husband and their three cats on the couch as their son tried his best to make his boyfriend feel comfortable. The boy didn't look the most reassured though, but at least he didn't seem like he's going to stress himself to death, so he figured it was okay.

"You met my pops before," Julian heard Johnny tell Valentine quietly. "Why are you so scared now?"

"Because I met him as your friend, and now I'm your boyfriend, it's not the same type of meeting!"

"He's right, it's not," Logan told the kids, laughing a bit. "It's scarier than meeting as a friend."

"Dad, you're not helping."

"It's also more relieving than you think, Moore. Trust me."

He sniffled and nodded, trying to calm down more. An uneasy feat, but one Logan and Johnny were sure he could accomplish.

"So… how are you?" Julian asked after a moment of silence, winking at Valentine. "I saw your regionals performance. You did good."

"Th— thank you!" He started blushing at that. "I… I'm good! I think, at least… How are you?"

"I'm very good, thank you for asking. So…" Julian chuckled, taking a bit of a shaky breath. "You're dating now, I heard."

Valentine could've died then and there.

"Dad had to tell him," Johnny tried to explain, but it didn't exactly work that well, as he watched his boyfriend try to hide as his pops kept on smiling.

"I'm not going to make fun of you, I just want to talk to you two. Make sure you know what you're doing, so you won't end up, you know…"

"Like your pops and I were when we started going out," Logan filled in for him.

"Exactly."

"If you want to tell us to use protection, it's okay, I think we know that by now," Valentine managed to say through his weak voice and high anxiety. "At least I know. My parents had our pastor give me that talk when I was thirteen."

"I use protection every time, it's nothing new."

"I'm sure you both know we're very proud of you for practicing that part of the relationship, but there are many more things I'm sure you don't even think of. For example, do you two communicate?" Julian received a very tired side-eye from Johnny and a nod from Valentine. "I'll ask a more specific question. Do you two talk about your feelings? About how certain things the other person does make you feel?"

"What do you mean…?"

"Before Logan and I started going out, I used to be really jealous about things. He used to have a crush on Kurt Hummel, good god, just remembering that hurts me…"

"Does it hurt because Shadow is literally on your rib cage?" Johnny suggests, watching the cat in question curl up defensively.

"No, she's good. It's another kind of pain, honey. But it… you remember when we told you about Adam? Back when Nat was being stalked?"

Johnny nodded, and Val just stared for a moment. "Stalked…?"

"I'll tell you later."

"Adam was my stalker when we were in high school," Julian explained, feeling Logan's grip on him getting tighter. "He forced me to tell Logan I love him. Neither of us were ready at the time, and I wish Adam no harm. I hope he managed to build a normal, semi sane life from those ashes. But he forced Logan and I to have a conversation neither of us were ready for."

"Okay… Pops, why is this important?"

"Because that's what happens when you don't communicate, honey. We didn't communicate until we were forced to. Please don't do that, okay? Can you promise me you'll talk about your feelings?"

"...Dad, what is he talking about? He's scaring Val."

"You're asking your dad and not me? John, I am deeply—"

"Communication is the key to any relationship," Logan said, cutting Julian in the middle and leaving him to play offended. "Consent is just a form of communication."

"One day, you two would decide that now is the right time to start having sex." Johnny started gagging at that. "When that day comes, we both want you to be ready. And it goes far beyond just knowing how to have safe sex. Having a healthy relationship is all about talking, because if you keep it inside, you heard what'll happen. Now, do you two communicate? Do you talk about your feelings, your fears? How far have you gone physically? This is a judgement-free zone, so don't feel ashamed."

"Just… just first base… Val is… uncomfortable with sex… Pops, why are you like this?"

"Because I love you and want to make sure you're safe. You know, some people might not want to have sex ever in their whole life, and that's okay too. A relationship isn't defined by how many times your dick has been in your partner's ass."

"Jules, that's… maybe overstepping a bit. You're scaring the children."

"So let's go back to the talking part. How many dates have you gone on yet? Where to?"

————

Johnny drove the two of them back to Dalton the following Sunday evening, and Natalie had a sleepover at her friend's place, so Logan figured he could make something nice happen for Julian's return. They didn't exactly get to do much yesterday, but it didn't mean they couldn't do anything now. So he ordered some Italian food, he got a bottle of wine, he picked a movie for the two of them to watch before regrettably falling asleep on the couch…

"Well, hello," Julian called as he came down the stairs, seeing Logan fretting over his phone. "What worries you so?"

"I'm waiting for takeout to get here… Michelle says hi."

"Well, when did you order takeout?" He got up to kiss Logan's cheek, hugging him under his arms.

"Seven twenty-three."

"And what time is it now?"

"Seven fifty."

"So they're not late, you're just anxious."

"I guess…" He put his phone down, instead hugging Julian. "I just… I don't know, I got excited. We get to be alone for the first time in…"

"Yeah… you said Michelle said hi? How's her and John's vacation in the Maldives going? Do they miss us too much yet?"

"I don't think they do. Michelle always misses us."

"True… oh, she'd love Valentine."

"She already does."

Logan nodded, then buried his face in Julian's shoulder. He was gone for too long this time. Or maybe they'd just gotten used to spending more time together without any projects getting in the way.

For Julian, three and a half months in New Zealand were also getting too much, and he always got jealous that he couldn't see Johnny compete or be there for Natalie while she auditioned for her own tv shows. He felt like he was missing too much. Sure, he took a break after the whole… stalking situation happened, but that was years ago. His return to mainstream just made him tired.

Both of them had their qualms about the direction their lives were going, and both of them were cut off by the doorbell, and Logan letting go for one moment so he could get the bags and tip the delivery guy. But soon enough it was both of them on the couch, eating their pasta and drinking wine and trying to decide if The Favorite was really the right movie to watch right now or if they felt like something less serious.

"The boys really remind me of us," Logan said in the middle of it all, making Julian choke a bit.

"Really? I can see how Johnny reminds you of you, but I don't think—"

"When we started going out," he finished his sentence. "We were awkward at best…"

"Your friends wouldn't let me off the hook."

"Hey, okay, that was mostly Dwight, and he's your friend too."

"He still wouldn't let me off the hook!"

"You know he only did it because he worries for us. Both of us. He did the same to me too."

"Okay, sure… do you think I just went full Dwight on them yesterday?"

"You… didn't. Not really. I think you did okay. Maybe a bit TMI on some details, but…" Julian made a scene of hiding his face in a pillow, trying to suppress his embarrassment. "Jules, I love you, but I don't think talking about my personal relationship history with our sixteen-year old son and his boyfriend is such a smart idea. Especially since it was mine. I'm not the average, I'm the exception."

"Was there any other way I should've gone at it?"

"I don't know, but I don't think two of my own students can look me in the face anymore."

"I think we should both be grateful we didn't talk about Derek's history at least."

They shared a look, their faces bright red and struggling to hold back a smile, before bursting into laughter. 

"I worry for Valentine if you would have talked about Derek… Jules, that poor kid is terrified of everything, let's not traumatize him even more. I'm still his teacher."

"I worry more for what Johnמy would've said… or Nat. Oh, imagine if Nat would've heard that… you know she and Emma talk about everything, right? And I mean everything. She would've told her, and then Derek would've known, and then we'd both be dead."

"Let's… let's just be grateful that this talk is over with and that we don't need to advise them on more just yet…"

"More like what? Marriage, having children?"

"I know you're joking but yes, that is a very real possibility for us in the future."

"So let's just… fuck, I can't breathe…"

"Oh, shit! Your inhaler is here, come on…"

"...Logan?" Julian asked after a few moments, his breathing calming down now.

"Yeah?"

"Let's keep the marriage counseling to the future, okay?" He smiled as Logan nodded, leaning over to kiss his cheek again. "I love you."

"Jules, I love you."

"I know. Lucky me."

[whats-the-story-tc]

26th-28th of April, 2020

"The Ones with the Series of Unfortunate Events"

[LONG AS FUCK SORRY]

After what happened on Saturday, I could barely fall asleep at night. I had a splitting headache from all the crying and genuinely felt like shit. Morning came, and I immediately reached for my phone. Nothing from her. It still being quite early, I tried to go back to sleep, and spent a full hour tossing and turning, a head full of thoughts, until I couldn't take it anymore. I turned my phone on and checked the notification bar, only to see a very familiar name and face.

I submitted my essay to her already, way before it was due, so when she actually assigned it in Google Classroom, I just pressed 'Mark as done' and thought I was good to go. V has obviously seen it (two links here). And, even though I didn't submit jackshit this time, she still felt the need to send me a "Thank you :)". I was overjoyed. FINALLY. So, as I explained here already, I had an impulse thought and decided to respond. "And thank YOU for the "task". I had a lot of fun with it. (I mean, the [poet's name] one.) If you're ever curious about anything of this sort, don't keep it to yourself :)" Of course, I regretted it as soon as I sent it. And, of course, I knew I wouldn't get an answer.

I promptly took a full day of rest after that, like I was trying to recover from a bad break-up. I didn't expect to hear from her again the next day.

Monday morning. New notification. Same old love of my life. She assigned us a project we'd already spoken about last week — to reinterpret a monologue from the play I read, the one V really likes, in any shape or form. Painting, video, prose, or, to quote V: "tiktok (not that I know how that works, but it's your choice)". She also said that she wants to keep what we make, maybe even share them with our Geo/Art teacher. I got even mote excited than when she first announced this. I knew I wanted to draw something, to show her a side of me she'd never seen before. I'm starting it on Friday. Doing a bit of painting, too. Wish me luck.

At around 2 PM that same day, Pocketwatch Friend noticed V's reply to her essay and asked me how she should respond to her. Found it quite funny, not gonna lie, knowing my history with replies. And as my friends told me about the responses they got, I realised a fundamental difference. All of them were skimmed over going into detail. They noted them fine, but didn't take the time to explain why they were noteworthy. So basically, they lacked content. Meanwhile the only things she spent paragraphs pointing out about my essay were miniscule stylistic mistakes. This gave me a fair bit of reassurance about what I do. I did enough. I was enough.

Come Tuesday, I was a nervous wreck to say the least. I always am, when it comes to online classes, but especially so when I have class with V. I walked up-and-down in the room, listening to her talk, not daring to say a word. God, I wish I kept to that.

Before I get to the part where y'all laugh at my misery, a teensy bit of prelude. Here I mentioned that the first time I had spoken to V after class, the 11th of October, 2018, we spoke about Hamlet. In short, I was a bit oblivious, and didn't really know how to recognise the Oedipus complex I've seen associated with the play. We were covering the story of Oedipus anyway, so I trotted up to her after class to talk. I remember the afternoon Sun shining really bright that day, and V being very relaxed and fully in her element as she spoke, leaning against my desk (that I wasn't sitting at by then). I went home smiling, unable to get her out of my head after that. It should've been clear from that day.

Now, on to class. There were a lot of good bits, a lot of interesting bits... but I don't want to talk about those now.

Last ten minutes, V asks if there are any questions. "I might just have one." I said, and immediately regretted it, even though I could hear the smile in V's voice as she said "Off you go". Theatre/Literature buffs, I'm sure you'll know the line "Frailty, thy name is woman!" from, you guessed it, Hamlet. Now, in the poem we were talking about, there was a line with the exact same structure, only with different words in the place of frailty and woman. I tried to twist it and see if V made that same association, but luck didn't favour me that day. V had no last clue what I meant when I said the quote was familiar. I tried to explain it to the best of my abilities, though I didn't remember the exact Hamlet quote. Neither did V. "I don't really know Hamlet by heart." "Neither do I!" I tried to counter, but just made it more awkward. Bless her soul, V googled it there and then, but just by me saying it was said to Gertrude, it brought up another play with another Gertrude — coincidentally, the one V stroke up a conversation about with me on the very last day of actual school. Those being the results made V laugh, so at least that's a win from my part. I ended up looking it up myself, trying to remember the quote, and ended up answering my own damn question. "So it was the grammatical structure, then?" V asked, with that very same peace in her voice as last year, and I excitedly replied "Yes!". Conversation over. And even though she genuinely sounded interested, I hated myself for bringing up a totally unnecessary thing. Though I hope that I made V "pull [Hamlet] off the top shelf" after class, as she said she might, were it not for me finding the answer.

I was already feeling horrible. Then, V brought up the assignments mentioned earlier and sounded really excited about it, starting to list what she imagined us doing. "A rewrite of the scene in the play..." and as she was saying my name, I grinned and asked her "Was this an indirect reference?". I needed no further convincing that she, indeed, read what I texted her. But here comes the part I laugh at now, but right then it was horrible. She actually chuckled at my teasing question, and God I wish I remembered what she said. Then I said: "I was actually planning on something else, but..." because I found it an interesting idea, and I have been meaning to do that, too. And that's where it got awkward. V, the usually unfaltering and confident V, was startled. Proper startled that she might have accidentally changed my mind. She started saying "oh, no, I didn't mean it like that, I was just trying to predict things..." and that made me worried, so after the oh no, I immediately started rambling "no, no, of course, I know what you meant, I understand". So there we were, talking over each other, both of us a nervous mess that we may have said something wrong we didn't mean. Right now, I find it absolutely hilarious, because how on Earth did we manage that?? But there and then?

I started crying. Silently, of course, not to worry her even further. (I didn't want to turn my mic off because I was scared it would malfunction again.) But I was so tense, that all my gasoline pool of nerves needed was this little spark of awkward, and it caught flame. I stood there, tears streaming down my cheeks, blaming myself for speaking and thinking I should've just shut up.

Soon after, V told us not to stress about the assignment, because "it's just homework". Everybody's favourite Cynical Twat, who is even worse at social situations than I am, tried to express he was glad to hear that, but did so in a very confusing and sarcastic way that V didn't really understand. "It would be pretty shitty of me" to make us stress, she said. So I dried my tears and jumped in, because she deserved to hear the compliment. "I don't mean to speak for [Cynical Twat], but I think he meant that we're all glad you said that. Not many people do it like that." I told her something along the lines of that. "Oh, okay." she said, disbelief thick in her voice. Hey, V. We bloody love you. It's time you start believing it.

Class ended soon after, and I spent about twenty minutes sobbing and cursing myself. The message from Pocketwatch Friend saying "I can't believe [V] replies to everything" as they were talking about her essay, only made it worse.

That night, I had a conversation with one of my underclassmen I talk to every once in a blue moon. We were discussing school and teachers, and I intentionally didn't bring up V. I waited for her to. Though, okay, I did provoke it a teensy bit, but just slightly. So, we talk about her, and through the things the girl says, I find out that... heh, of course, I'm not the only one she strikes up convos with. Turns out, after a joke, V even winked at her! (Okay, she did that to me once, too, when I stood up for her in class, but that's not the point.) After that, I was carrying the convo on just fine, but inwards, I was spiralling into a great big void of 'You ain't special to her, bitch, the fuck were you thinking'. The girl ended the conversation with "the woman's weird (...) but that's how we love her". Right. Yeah.

Now, two days later at current, I'm back in the room where all the crying went down. Bit surreal, thinking back. I'm sure I won't forget this for quite a while. Will my unlucky strike stop anytime soon? I don't know. We'll see. But I don't think anything could surprise me anymore.

You may take that as a challenge, V.

~ S ♡

[Every story I share here, no matter how specific I get with my wording, depicts actual events from my own life.]

[ckret2]

tumblr you need to stop deleting the question when i edit an ask:

What characters can you think of, that you like, fall under unhealthy obsessive romance?

Sit down we're gonna be here a while.

God is anyone gonna be surprised if I cite the yandere trope? Is anyone gonna cringe away if I say Gasai Yuno from Future Diary? No? We're all good? Okay.

Yandere characters are really hit or miss with me. Too often, I've seen yandere characters portrayed like their bloodlust, their willing to kidnap their beloved or kill potential romantic rivals, is working in tandem with their apparent sweet, affectionate, self-effacing devotion—rather than in contrast. Like a yandere character who's willing to draw blood is an exaggerated romantic ideal. I'm not about that. To me, a proper compelling yandere is a horror character disguised as a cute love interest.

Yuno pulls that off. Even as Yukki gets used to her and even begins to grow attracted to her, he still remains very reasonably terrified of what she might do—and his terror is validated by her actions. What really sells her for me, though, is the series's awareness of the arbitrary nature of her obsessive love. She flat-out tells Yukki, the target of her obsession, with shocking coldness and self-insight, that she doesn't love him because he's really that unique or special, but because he was there and she needed someone. When it feels like so many generic dull lead boys "win" the attentions of the cool interesting yandere for no obvious reason as a sort of wishfulfillment, Yuno's open acknowledgment of Yukki's plainness and the arbitrariness of her own affections would be a great deconstruction of common yandere tropes, if it wasn't for the fact that Yuno was basically the codifier of the modern yandere archetype.

Another character who hits all the right yandere notes is Tarantulas from the IDW Transformers comics. Mad scientist who makes wicked inventions for a high-ranked military officer who's rattled by the brutality they inflict together and terminates their professional relationship by attempting to terminate the scientist; scientist comes back from the apparent dead to kidnap the officer with the help of a gang of terrorists, blackmails him by threatening to reveal confidential information about the officer's army that could tear it apart from the inside and that the officer has gone to great lengths to keep hidden, reveals that he's invented a way to make enemy soldiers effectively invisible and untraceable, and shows off his secret lab powered by a devastatingly powerful superfuel that he's invented... and then reveal he doesn't want revenge, but for the officer to be his partner in crime again, and all these wonders will be used FOR him instead of AGAINST him. He calls the officer his "muse," and feels like he can't reach his peak scientific potential without the officer there, requesting new weapons and acting as his inspiration.

He's willing to burn down the universe if his muse wants it or burn down the universe if his muse scorns him, he kidnaps him just to beg him to be his partner, and he does all this despite the fact that the officer destroyed his life work and tried to kill him. It's fantastically messed up.

Moving away from the yandere archetype: Venom—comics Venom, from their intro through the 90s and then again once Mike Costa got hold of them—is a fantastic obsessive love story, about two people who reject everything that both of their societies defines as normal and acceptable in order to be with each other, and are incredibly tender and affectionate and mutually supportive; but like, they also validate each other's worst beliefs and tendencies in a way that lets them egg each other on into oblivious villainy, and even if "live with and for one and only one person, literally in 24/7 physical contact," is normal and psychologically healthy for the symbiote's species, it's not for a human being. Impressively, they're SO obsessively codependently in love with each other, that they each independently decide that they want to be the best possible versions of themselves for each other, and violently wrest their relationship from the jaws of toxicity in order to become an emotionally mature couple with a support system, outside friends, and the ability to communicate about their fears and insecurities, and it's a beautiful thing. It's too bad nobody's written anything with Venom since Mike Costa's run ended, but I'm sure someone will bring them back around eventually.

The knight-in-love-with-their-liege trope is one that appeals to me in theory, but in practice I basically never see it written as zealously as I'd like, so I usually have to headcanon it up myself. Pearl in Steven Universe is the only solid canon example I can think of that hits all the right notes for me.

Not strictly canon but: Drift from Transformers, who goes from grim street rat survivalist to bloodthirsty mass murderer to repentant ninja vigilante to faux-spiritual warrior with weird flashes of extreme violence while under the wing of four different mentor/leader figures, I like to interpret as a serial zealot whose repeatedly shifting morals and loyalties have nothing to do with his newest leader actually convincing him of the righteousness of their perspective, and everything to do with Drift's becoming smitten with their charisma and being willing to reinvent himself completely to conform with his new beloved leader's worldview. Drift's last writer even ship teased him pretty heavily with leader #4 (for any of y'all that don't read Transformers: not like "ship teased" in a queerbaity way, Drift eventually hooked up with a different dude), and he's shown to go out of his way to perform roles that he thinks will impress leader #4; so like, there's some canon basis to read him like that—even if my main reason is "because I want to."

I also like to slip in shades of knight-loves-leader in how I write Zim being shipped with a Tallest; the unhealthy, destructive obsession with them is definitely canon, even if the romance isn't.

"Characters that are otherwise emotionless for scifi/fantasy reasons except for ONE emotion and that emotion is love and therefore they get really obsessed with their love because it's the only thing in their void of a life, but it's not portrayed in a cutesy 'robot learns to feel' or 'demon is saved by love' way but rather in a 'this is almost as unbalanced and unhealthy as not feeling anything at all was' way" is like... a trope that I keep writing but don't think I've ever actually seen done EXACTLY like that in canon. The Nobodies in Kingdom Hearts are good for this—I've written them as having meaningless sex to try to counter the fact that they can't feel emotions, on the justification that sexual arousal is a physiological sensation rather than an actual emotion but is still close enough that they can almost feel a feeling, and end up getting extremely attached to their cooperative let's-pretend-we-can-feel sex partners. (i realize that physiology and emotions can't actually be disentangled like that but like, it's fantasy.) Axel, you can argue, latched onto Roxas in what can be (and often is) read in a romantic way, also arguably sheerly on the merit of the fact that Roxas makes him feel anything at all.

Shockwave in IDW I've also used to played around with this idea, although I haven't published the main work I've done that with. Yet.

And from what I’ve seen, it looks like the main character in Yandere Simulator is gonna have a backstory kind of like that? I’m looking forward to that game, haven’t played any of the demo versions yet but what I’ve seen from the dev’s videos looks fun.

Also: very frequently, unrequited love. Especially secret unrequited love. "Unrequited-to-requited love" doesn't fit the bill at all. It's gotta be perpetual pining. There's NO satisfaction. The longing just builds and builds eternally, until the internal pressure causes something to shatter. I can think of ships I like to imagine this way (Drift w/ any of his mentors, Starscream/Wheeljack, Hashirama/Madara, Ψiioniic/Sufferer), but off the top of my head no canon ones that reach those dizzying heights of eternally unfulfilled yearning. Sure, plenty of stories have unrequited love—but rarely the all-consumingly obsessive kind, and even more rarely is that portrayed as—oh! I got a couple canon ones, albeit more villainous/predatory ones: the Phantom in Phantom of the Opera and that dude with his mouth stitched shut in the Abarat books, I haven't read those in years. And some spins of Dracula and Mina, although it's no fun if she loves him back. You can also do this with Hades and Persephone, although for this to work it's imperative that Hades still feel like he doesn't actually "have" Persephone even if she's contractually obligated to live with him so long as she doesn't love him, and just sort of wistfully watches her from afar whenever she's in the underworld. (But to be honest I generally prefer "Persephone and Hades: Hypercompetent Goth Power Couple" to spins that lean on Persephone being an unwilling unhappy victim.)

The further I go down this list the more obscure and/or headcanony these examples are gonna get, so I think I'm gonna stop here. But feel free to send any follow-up questions if u wanna hear me ramble more about my extremely specific tastes in romance.

Shoutout to "The Maiden and the Minstrel Knight" by Blind Guardian for being a song that captures peak romanticized out-of-control love.

[365daysofsasuhina]

[ 365 Days of SasuHina || Day Two Hundred Fifty-Five: A Beautiful Choice ] [ Uchiha Sasuke, Suigin Ryū ] [ SasuHina ] [ Verse: A Light Amongst Shadows ] [ AO3 Link ]

For once in his life...Uchiha Sasuke has no idea what he’s doing. For the most part, his decisions and actions since he was seven years old have been rather...simple. While he ran into many an obstacle on his journey for justice in the name of his clan, he could typically improvise, drawing on what he’d learned as a shinobi to move forward.

But this...this is completely outside of his element.

And he’s not even sure who to go to for help.

Naruto, he knows, is about as well-versed in this as he is. And the last thing he wants is the blond in on his business. Because as soon as Naruto knows anything, half of Konoha will know what’s going on. And he’s trying to be discreet.

Sakura...gods, he’d rather take a kunai to the gut than ask Sakura for advice. Sure, she’s a woman...but also one he’s had one of the most annoying relationships with out of anyone he’s ever known. She might be going steady with Naruto, but he doesn’t want to even hint at this topic with her for any reason.

Kakashi is just...no. He’s possibly the only person beyond himself that Sasuke can think of who would be worse to consult. Never married, never dated, and reads porn in public.

Itachi has already been coy enough about the whole thing. He doesn’t want his brother to have any more reason to tease him than he’s already got. And Shisui? Might be worse than Naruto. It’s a close call...but either way, a definite no.

The only person left he has to consult...is his brother’s wife. Which, honestly? Makes the most sense out of anyone he could ask. She’s a lady, has a suitable temperament...and happens to be friends with the person otherwise involved in Sasuke’s latest predicament.

He’s going to propose to Hinata.

But there’s steps to this process, and he’s...rather unsure about how to get from point A to...whatever letter the actual proposal ends up being. At the very least, he’s sure about it. He’s never been more sure about anything in his life. But this is also his first relationship...let alone one that’s ever gotten this far.

So, he just...needs a little help.

“Can I...ask you something?”

Glancing up from the bed of herbs she’s tending, Sasuke’s sister-in-law sits back on her haunches. “Of course. Is something wrong?”

“No. I just…” He sighs, rubbing at the tense muscles in his neck. “I need some...advice. About...girls.” Gods, can he sound any more like a clueless genin?

She blinks at him, and then smiles, expression free of the taunting her husband would be giving him. “I see. What in particular do you want some help with?”

“...I want to propose to Hinata.”

Greys go wide. “...oh! Sasuke, that’s wonderful!”

“I just...I dunno how to go about it. I thought maybe you’d...have a better idea.”

For a moment the woman is silent...and then she laughs a bit into a hand. “I’m sorry, dear...I’m not laughing at you,” she explains during a breath, seeing his expression. “I just...well, you know well enough your brother and I had far from a...typical courtship. So honestly, I’m not sure I’m the most knowledgeable about the...traditional means. But...I’ll offer what I can.”

Abandoning her task, she stands and dusts some dirt from her clothes. “...first thing is first, really: you’ll need an engagement ring. One that suits both your feelings for her, and her. After all, she’ll be the one wearing it.”

“Suits my...feelings?”

A nod. “Something that, when you look at it, reminds you of her. A testament to your love for her for her to wear and sort of...display! Your wedding bands will be different, of course. Think of it as…” She pauses, pondering for a moment. “...a symbol of your courtship. Your offering to symbolize your affection, and your intentions to make her your wife.”

“...I guess that makes sense.” A few ideas are already eddying through his mind. “So...what should I do to...give it to her?”

“Well...that part I can’t really help you with too much. A proposal is very personal. Some people go to places that mean a lot to them both, like...where you had a first date, or a first kiss. Or some make it very...theatrical. A fancy restaurant, or a public display. Though personally, I would avoid the latter...it adds unnecessary pressure for her answer.”

Sasuke blinks. “...good point.”

“Otherwise, it’s mostly up to you, dear. This is a moment you’ll both remember for the rest of your lives - how you want to make it memorable is up to you. Of course, on that note, don’t be nervous,” she advises gently with a smile. “Mistakes can and do happen. But just remember that this is the person you hold dearest, and who loves you regardless of the circumstances. Hinata won’t judge you if something goes awry.”

Glancing aside, Sasuke mulls that over. “Yeah, you’re right...she’s too kind for that.” In his mind, he can still see how she’d giggle, and then apologize for laughing, all smiles and pretty pink blushes. Just that alone brings a soft smile to his face.

“...otherwise...that’s really all you’ll need,” his sister-in-law then says, noting his reverie. “Find a good ring, and a good time and place. And I’m sure it will turn out perfectly. You two are so good together, everything will work out just fine.”

Head full of thoughts, Sasuke goes quiet for a moment. “...thank you. And, uh...don’t tell anyone, okay? Last thing I need is aniki giving me crap.”

She laughs into a hand. “Of course, your secret is safe with me, dear. And good luck! Not that you’ll need it. I can’t wait for Hinata to tell me all about it!”

He nods. But before he can go, she calls out his name.

“She wears a size seven, by the way,” his sister offers cheekily.

“...how do you know that?”

“Let’s just say I was...thinking ahead. I told her I had some old jewelry she could have, and asked her her size. I had a feeling you’d need it one of these days.”

Sasuke blinks in surprise...and then gives a soft huff of a laugh. “...thanks.”

“You’re welcome, dear.”

Confidence much higher, Sasuke abandons his brother’s yard and makes his way back into the village proper. A ring that reminds him of her...that symbolizes his affection...can he really find something that will fit?

Meandering toward a jeweler, not wanting to be spotted, Sasuke makes sure he senses no familiar chakra before slipping into the store. Behind the counter is a middle-aged woman, who smiles pleasantly as he looks around curiously.

“Good afternoon, young man! What might I do for you?”

“I’m, er...here to buy a ring…?”

Her face alights. “I see! Congratulations! We have quite a few styles to choose from, and can custom make a band for you, of course. Have you any ideas?”

“Not yet…”

“Well, feel free to browse, and I’ll answer any questions you might have!”

Feeling a bit sheepish, he approaches the counter, eyeing the stock behind the glass. There’s...a lot. More than he’d ever think up, that’s for sure. Jewels of all cuts, colors, and styles are almost overwhelming. How is he supposed to decide?

Something that reminds me of her… Eyes trailing over the choices, he pauses at one that nudges something at the back of his mind. A shining pearl sits in a silver band, a small diamond nestled along either side. There’s a bit of flare to the metal around them, but otherwise the rest of the ring looks fairly simple, yet elegant.

A pearl...it looks like...her eyes…

A feeling blooms in his gut. That’s what he wants. “...can I look more closely at that one?”

The employee fetches it from the display, letting him look it over in more detail. The pearl is even prettier up close...it’s perfect.

“I think...I’d like this one.”

“A beautiful choice, sir! Do you know the lady’s ring size?”

“Seven.”

“Perfect! We keep all of our rings in stock in several sizes, so I have it here and now for you, if you’re ready.”

Sasuke sets his jaw. No going back now… “I’m ready.”

“Wonderful. Let me just get the order written up, and as soon as we have the ryō, you can have the ring, sir.”

All throughout, Sasuke stares at the little box she slips the band into, a heavy feeling in his chest. While he’s satisfied with his choice...this seems like the easy part now that it’s done. The real challenge...will be asking her.

He’s sure she’ll say yes. She...she has to. But the nerves remain, that sliver of doubt like a canyon in his mind. He has time to plan...he’ll just...take this slowly. Everything has to be perfect. Perfect like her...the pearl he never expected to find.

Handing over the money once the receipt is done, he accepts the box. “A pleasure doing business with you, sir. And I wish you luck with your lady!”

“...thank you.” Slipping it into his pocket, he sweeps the street again before heading out.

Now...it’s time to plan.

                                                           .oOo.

     OKAY FIRST before you come at me with pitchforks and torches for the cliffhanger: I AM going to do a sequel to this TOMORROW - I peeked the prompt and it'll work perfectly for a follow up! I just didn't want this to get monstrously long, so I cut it there! I'm sorry xD      Anyway...here we go, guys gals and nonbinary pals! We're FINALLY getting a chance to look into how a proposal might go between these two. The ring, at least, I've had in my mind for a looong time - a pearl is just such a perfect fit, imo! It's what Hyūga eyes have always reminded me of, tbh. And Sasuke seems to agree!      But yes, tomorrow we'll see part two to this, so I hope y'all can be patient with me xD And hopefully I can live up to this hype, haha - but for now, I need some sleep. Thanks so much for reading! See you tomorrow n_n

[amphetameme-queen-blog]

If you slip up...

Here’s my master list of how to take care of yourself after a b/p, stay strong my lovelies!

1. Physical Damage Control

Teeth -

It's usually a warning sign to have bad teeth as someone less than seventy years old. It's a 'classic' symptom of bulimia and I've heard a lot of (rookies) swear by brushing their teeth. DON'T FUCKIN DO IT MAN. I used to b/p anywhere between three to ten times a day at my worst, but I always kept a handy supply of TUMS or antacids on me. Your teeth become weakened when you b/p in the first place, so the abrasiveness of toothbrush bristles tends to wear down on your enamel. I never brushed my teeth after I would purge, and I've been b/p'ing on and off for about four years now. Like I said - ten times a day at the worst. I went to the dentist last month and they said that my teeth were like, perfect. It was actually shocking. Thank god for chemistry I suppose.

So how does it work? Well, the calcium carbonate (the main ingredient of TUMS) neutralizes the hydrochloric acid (stomach acid) on our teeth like it would in our stomach. It's basically a high school chemistry equation.

CaCO3+ HCl -> CaCl2 + CO2 + H2O.

The symptoms you'll get (after an antacid) is basically just burping up the CO2 lol. It's much more preferable to tooth decay, might I say. OH and if you don't have any antacids on you, baking soda works in the same way. Just put a teaspoon of baking soda into water, swish it around your mouth, and spit it out. It doesn't taste great, but you could probably mix it with a little alcohol-free toothpaste so it tastes more minty. I highly recommend against swallowing baking soda because it will most likely irritate your stomach and make you even more nauseous, and not in an emetic way. (Ana butterflies don't get any stupid ideas it's not gonna work like you think). Swallowing baking soda just makes you kind of uncomfortable, really.

Y'all need to floss too. I sound like I've got a major stick up my ass, because who actually flosses flossing is for old people and l0zers fuck that shit. Nope. Flossing once before you go to bed helps your teeth against yellowing, in my experience. I wouldn’t recommend flossing post-purge as your gums tend to be much more sensitive. ‘Cuz who’s trynna get gingivitis yeah no one.

Sinuses -

​Remember that time you (regrettably) b/p’d on rice? And you felt that rice grain up there and took a napkin and blew fuckin snot rice into your napkin, like the sexy beast you are?

Yeah I remember that too.

It’s pretty apparent that stomach acid anywhere besides your stomach is a recipe for havoc. The stomach acid eats away at the mucous membranes in your nose, leading to constant sniffling, loss of smell, and chronic sinus infections. Even if you don't feel irritation in your nose immediately following a b/p, the acid can still lead to damage.

So how do you remedy this?

From my experience, the Neti-Pot saline rinse is the best bet. You can use the one that looks like a tea kettle or the one that's a squeezy bottle - both do the same thing. I have the squeezy bottle and it's really simple to use. You add water up to the fill line

And then you pour the saline packet into the bottle and mix thoroughly (just shake the bottle). Be sure to use FILTERED DRINKING WATER because tap water often contains heavy metals like copper or iron, which isn't good for your nose. Then put the plastic bottle with the saline-water solution into the microwave for approximately 35 seconds, and be careful to make sure it isn't too hot. Make sure it's just slightly warm and then screw the cap on tightly. Lean over a sink and gently squeeze the bottle into one nostril until the water comes out the other. Don't worry, it doesn't provoke the dreaded “oh god there's water in my nose I feel like I'm drowning” feeling. Your sinuses are connected and because the water is warm (like body temperature) it won't come as a shock to your body. Repeat the process on both nostrils until the bottle is done.

I've had actual chunks of food come out of my nose before, and I'm like, “shit, that would have just been hangin out in my nose the entire time?” So it's really important for preventing sinus infections or acid damage to the nasal cavity.

​Electrolyte Imbalances -

​If I had a dollar for the amount of times I've seen THAT PICTURE of the dead bulimic girl I would be richer than Donald Trump. Yeah, she died from gastric rupture blah blah blah but I always see blogs referencing that picture with the danger of heart failure and death in bulimics.

Despite how frequently I used to purge, I'm not dead yet! Hurray I guess! I used to get serious heart palpitations after a long day of purging, but I could mitigate some of those side effects with proper hydration and electrolyte drinks.

I ain't talkin no purple Gatorade shit either. Gatorade isn't as hydrating as one would think. It's made for athletes who are working out and sweating, and releasing salt through their skin. Gatorade replenishes the sodium and sugar, but if you're not working out/sweating a lot, the extra sodium could cause water retention *panics* The best option for electrolyte-replenishing is coconut water, in my opinion. It's naturally high in potassium, which is the principle electrolyte lost by vomiting. Pedialyte takes a close second for hydration because it's designed to replenish electrolytes, like if you have the flu or something. You can buy Pedialyte over the counter at most (American) pharmacies.

Electrolytes are important in muscle contraction, which includes the heart. This is why many bulimics die from heart attacks

Of course, the best way to get potassium is through potassium-rich foods. Some examples:

Avocado

Acorn squash

Spinach

Sweet potato

Wild-caught salmon

Dried apricots

Pomegranate

Coconut water

White beans

Banana

Source: Dr. Axe

Y'all also gotta be mindful of your magnesium too. Magnesium is lost (most notably) through diarrhea and thus laxative abuse. Here's how to remember the electrolytes:

Potassium is lost through Purging and Magnesium is lost by taking Mega Shits.

I'm laughing bahahah but I shouldn't be because the magnesium thing is no joke.

2. Psychological Damage Control

The Post Purge Freakout-

​Quit playin. You know what I’m talkin’ about, that anxiety like fuck fuck fuck what did I just do I’m a worthless human I deserve to-

Stop.

These thoughts seem real, like ground-breaking realizations that affirm your worthlessness and desire to continue hurting yourself with ED behaviors. Diffusing these thoughts feels like the hardest thing to do in the moment, of course, but self-care is one of the most important factors in preventing another episode. I’m not trying to be some over-simplifying, self-righteous therapist who thinks that mindfulness is the only way out ‘it’s all about positive self talk, honey!’ Nah fam, anyone who’s dealt with the vicious cycle of bulimia knows it’s not that fuckin’ easy, and so I’m not trying to sugarcoat the fact that post-b/p self-care can be really goddamn difficult.

The best post-b/p self care I’ve implemented is putting on cozy pajamas (if you’re at home) and just taking a five minute break from what you’re doing to listen to music, draw/write, or go on a short walk. Let yourself feel comfy and secure, like being wrapped in a warm fuzzy blanket. Give yourself just five minutes to collect your feelings, and realize that a past slip-up can’t determine the future. Because that’s all it is - in the past. What’s in the past is done, and no amount of hateful self talk or self-injury will change that. But what you do in the present is what matters. Think about it as a fork in the road -

“Okay, so I just binged and purged, I have urges to hurt myself or compensate for what I just did, but what will happen if I don’t do either of those things?”

Nothing.

You might panic. You might cry. Let the tears come, if you are in a safe place where you feel you can do so. We know that the day might have sucked, but time stops for no one. The next thing you know, it’s the next morning. The sun is shining through your window, you are alive and your body is resilient. BOI IT’S A NEW FUCKIN DAY! YESTERDAY WAS A CAN OF SHIT, BUT YOU KNOW WHAT, TODAY DOESN’T HAVE TO BE. The important thing is that you lived through those horrible feelings, and you’ll remember that. You’re stronger, more resilient, and persistent than you think. You don’t even have to be in recovery to apply this. That’s not what I’m getting at. If you’re pursuing a goal, whether it be eating at regular intervals or meeting a certain calorie limit, there are going to be times you might mess up. And good god, it is absolutely okay.

Imagine yourself going to bed the next night, realizing that you had your first binge free, purge free day since you could remember. Knowing that you fought your urge to b/p will help you remember that next time, “hey, I’m stronger than my urges.”

I guess what I’m emphasizing here is self-forgiveness. I know a lot of people’s ED’s are driven by self-hatred and you’re all such beautiful human beings who deserve to love yourself as others love you. Wow. That got really deep real fast. But hey, I’ve been through it all.

~

Yo. I'm gonna add more to this, but only if people are interested in my ED-related writing. I'm actually working on a blog right now but I figured I might as well post some stuff here for feedback. PLEASE comment I would love to hear from you guys. 'Do I write like a sappy self-help book'? 'Is it relatable and/or helpful?' Let me know in a comment or DM what you're feelin about it. Sending hugs!

[thepalegoldmoon]

All the luxury asks~! C:

Woot!~ alright haha. Here ya go fam.

🌹luxury asks🌹

bubble bath: do you have any routines before bedtime? like skin care, etc. what are they?

Uhm kinda if I decide to actually do one, I usually will play on my ps4, draw, or use the computer, I’ll get ready for bed. Maybe wash my face and drink some tea. Send a “goodnight” to the people I’ve recently talked to and then kinda just let my mind wander till I fall asleep.

((If I wash my face, I run warm water, then wet my face, scrub with ocean salt from lush, wash it with aquamarina, use the rosy checks face mask. I then rinse and check my pimples then dry my face and go to bed haha ;u;))

When I take a bath I usually run the bath, throw in a chunk of bath bomb or bubble bar set up some candles and chill for a bit after doing my face routine. Then I get out dry off and bed. XD

champagne: what topic could you talk about for hours?Yikes, depends there’s a few topics. Hahah mostly views on the world, certain fandoms, religious/ spiritual beliefs, and just life in general?? It’s pretty much everything tbh. Especially if ya get me with the right people.

crushed velvet: have you ever used your charm to get something you want?Um when I was a kid I used to try and act really cute to get toys or candy I wanted but I don’t know if I have a “charm” I kinda have a way with words?? It depends on the day cause half the time I can’t fucking speak proper English to save my life haha.

diamonds: how do you feel about excessively spending money?Ummm ouch. I grew up with a tighter budget than most so I like getting presents but I won’t blow my budget hahah. I think about it but I never go through with it I just like putting together or making things to show my creativity and it helps me show my affections in some way I feel haha. Uhm over all it depends on prices and what I’m buying tbh.

faux fur: describe your wardrobe.Ahhhhahahaha uhmI have alot of fandom/ band shirts and plain shirts. Black pantsI have a couple different pairs of shoes I tend to wear. They’re either red or black. I usually wear a sweater, hoodie, or a flannel. And occasionally a snap back.Overall my style is like a 90’s artist, a 90’s fuck boi, tumbler and hot topic threw up on me hahah.

glitter: describe someone special to you.Fucking amazing, and entire universe. Stars in his eyes, he holds planets in his hands, he’s fucking amazing tbh ;u;. Free spirit, acts like a dumb ass but he’s really fucking intelligent. Cheesy as fuck and I love it. He’s just ahhhh perfect and amazing tbh. He’s diverse, and fun and amazing. There’s never a boring day with him tbh. It’s always an adventure or learning experience. Overall it’s exciting and fun in so many ways. I could go on for pages but I can’t cause theres other question but hahah yeah that’s a very brief description.

gold: describe what you would call the most perfect meal.Yikes I love all food tbh so I can’t really say man.

jazz: name a song that resonates with you and your emotions. explain the reason why.Ah god it always changes cause it depends on my mood man. An idk how describe mine rn cause I’m just chilling.

lace: what is something in your life completely different from last year?My social life and views of things in my social life. Or my school life in general haha.

lingerie: do you consider yourself a promiscuous person?Hmmm hell fucking no. I loyal to the person I love romantically. And honestly giving something like that over is the biggest act of affection I could ever give someone and it takes me a bit of time to build up to that I guess cause I’m awkward as fuck and idk I need to be in a relationship with someone to give them something like that. That’s physical proof I’m giving over everything tbh. In my opinion. Like y'all enjoy what you wanna enjoy but I’m just saying that’s me. ;u;

lipstick: do you enjoy talking to strangers?kinda??

pearls: what’s something about your personality that surprises others?I honestly wouldn’t know hahah. But I always tend to find something someone’s never done before, like a first time being called something or, oh that’s something a bit new. Idk just small things that are a first or not done alot between me and the person I guess haha. It’s a little odd. But idk if there’s anything else.

penthouse: what would you consider your dream home? describe it.Oh yikes hahah ummm I know I wanna start out in a studio apartment so just art supplies and easels around and just aesthetically pleasing kinda shit hahah but idk how to describe it all. Just look down my aesthetic house tag in a few weeks you’ll see.

perfume: if you could make your own signature fragrance, what would it smell like?Probably sweet, maybe something from my childhood. Or something more tougher and that would remind you of fireplaces or a cozy winter or cozy fall night in front of a fireplace???

robe: how do you prepare for an evening alone with a loved one/date?Uhhmmm depends on the partner I have cute romantic date ideas like going to the movies or going places they’d enjoy. Usually it all depends on likes of my partner and something I’d also enjoy as well haha.

roses: If it had to be winter, autumn, spring or summer for the rest of your life, which would you choose? Autumn because the cooler weather, changing leaves, and Halloween spooky vibes tbh.

satin: what is your most favorite article of clothing?Probably my junkets t-shirt I just got, my pronouns sweater (it’s comfy as fuck), my flannels, or my kigus.

sheet mask: what’s your favorite lazy activity?Playing games or drawing/ painting, while Netflix or Hulu plays in the background.

silk: do you have more inner or outer beauty?I wanna say more inner beauty but I have a little bit of outer beauty on good days haha.

silver: do you have any obscure hobbies? what are they?Taxidermy, and special fx makeup ((I actually wanna ask my good friend to be my model cause he’d be A👌 Fucking 👌 Mazing 👌tbh 💯🔥 and I need a model for fx because I suck ass doing it on myself haha)) (I also wanna make masks)

sparkling water: what are your top three songs for the summer?Idfk cause I don’t really pick out songs for seasons but I might as well start right?? Haha idk songs that always reminds me of summer are -fashionably late by falling in reverse, -forever stuck in our youth by set it off.

wine: what kind of drunk are you (happy/affectionate, angry, sad, fun/wild)? if you don’t drink, what kind do you think you WOULD be? I’ve never been drunk. Tbh I feel like I’d either be all of them OR. A happy, fun/ wild, and affectionate kind of drunk. My filter and my walls would probably get destroyed to the ground so I’d be a wreck.