#health conditions on Black skin

[metalheadsforblacklivesmatter]

The dude in the video is a medical professional and really well known for his information on physical symptoms on melinated skin.

-fae

[transmutationisms]

can u elaborate on posture being a lie

As Beth Linker explains in her book “Slouch: Posture Panic in Modern America” (Princeton), a long history of anxiety about the proximity between human and bestial nature has played out in this area of social science. Linker, a historian of medicine at the University of Pennsylvania, argues that at the onset of the twentieth century the United States became gripped by what she characterizes as a poor-posture epidemic: a widespread social contagion of slumping that could, it was feared, have deleterious effects not just upon individual health but also upon the body politic. Sitting up straight would help remedy all kinds of failings, physical and moral [...] she sees the “past and present worries concerning posture as part of an enduring concern about so-called ‘diseases of civilization’ ”—grounded in a mythology of human ancestry that posits the hunter-gatherer as an ideal from which we have fallen.

[...]

In America at the turn of the twentieth century, anxieties about posture inevitably collided with anxieties not just about class but also about race. Stooping was associated with poverty and with manual, industrialized labor—the conditions of working-class immigrants from European countries who, in their physical debasement, were positioned well below the white Anglo-Saxon Protestant establishment. Linker argues that, in this environment, “posture served as a marker of social status similar to skin color.” At the same time, populations that had been colonized and enslaved were held up as posture paradigms for the élite to emulate: the American Posture League rewarded successful students with congratulatory pins that featured an image of an extremely upright Lenape man. The head-carrying customs associated with African women were also adopted as training exercises for white girls of privilege, although Linker notes that Bancroft and her peers recommended that young ladies learn to balance not baskets and basins, which signified functionality, but piles of flat, slippery books, markers of their own access to leisure and education. For Black Americans, posture was even more fraught: despite the admiration granted to the posture of African women bearing loads atop their heads, community leaders like Dr. Algernon Jackson, who helped establish the National Negro Health Movement, criticized those Black youth who “too often slump along, stoop-shouldered and walk with a careless, lazy sort of dragging gait.” If slouching among privileged white Americans could indicate an enviable carelessness, it was seen as proof of indolence when adopted by the disadvantaged.

This being America, posture panic was swiftly commercialized, with a range of products marketed to appeal to the eighty per cent of the population whose carriage had been deemed inadequate by posture surveys. The footwear industry drafted orthopedic surgeons to consult on the design of shoes that would lessen foot and back pain without the stigma of corrective footwear: one brand, Trupedic, advertised itself as “a real anatomical shoe without the freak-show look.” The indefatigable Jessie Bancroft trained her sights on children’s clothing, endorsing a company that created a “Right-Posture” jacket, whose trim cut across the upper shoulders gave its schoolboy wearer little choice but to throw his shoulders back like Jordan Baker. Bancroft’s American Posture League endorsed girdles and corsets for women; similar garments were also adopted by men, who, by the early nineteen-fifties, were purchasing abdominal “bracers” by the millions.

It was in this era that what eventually proved to be the most contentious form of posture policing reached its height, when students entering college were required to submit to mandatory posture examinations, including the taking of nude or semi-nude photographs. For decades, incoming students had been evaluated for conditions such as scoliosis by means of a medical exam, which came to incorporate photography to create a visual record. Linker writes that for many male students, particularly those who had military training, undressing for the camera was no biggie. For female students, it was often a more disquieting undertaking. Sylvia Plath, who endured it in 1950, drew upon the experience in “The Bell Jar,” whose protagonist, Esther Greenwood, discovers that undressing for her boyfriend is as uncomfortably exposing as “knowing . . . that a picture of you stark naked, both full view and side view, is going into the college gym files.” The practice of taking posture photographs was gradually abandoned by colleges, thanks in part to the rise of the women’s movement, which gave coeds a new language with which to express their discomfort. It might have been largely forgotten were it not for a 1995 article in the Times Magazine, which raised the alarming possibility that there still existed stashes of nude photographs of famous former students of the Ivy League and the Seven Sisters, such as George H. W. Bush, Bob Woodward, Meryl Streep, and Hillary Clinton. Many of the photographs in question were taken and held not by the institutions themselves but by the mid-century psychologist William Herbert Sheldon. Sheldon was best known for his later discredited theories of somatotypes, whereby he attributed personality characteristics to individuals based on whether their build was ectomorphic, endomorphic, or mesomorphic.

[...]

Today, the descendants of Jessie Bancroft are figures like Esther Gokhale, a Bay Area acupuncturist and the creator of the Gokhale Method, who teaches “primal posture��� courses to tech executives and whose recommendations are consonant with other fitness trends, such as barefoot running and “paleo” eating, that romanticize an ancestral past as a remedy for the ills of the present. The compulsory mass surveillance that ended when universities ceased the practice of posture photography has been replaced by voluntary individual surveillance, with the likes of Rafi the giraffe and the Nekoze cat monitoring a user’s vulnerability to “tech neck,” a newly named complaint brought on by excessive use of the kind of devices profitably developed by those paleo-eating, barefoot-running, yoga-practicing executives. Meanwhile, Linker reports, paleoanthropologists quietly working in places other than TikTok have begun to revise the popular idea that our ancient ancestors did not get aches and pains in their backs. Analysis of fossilized spines has revealed degenerative changes suggesting that “the first upright hominids to roam the earth likely experienced back pain, or would have been predisposed to such a condition if they had lived long enough.” Slouching, far from being a disease of civilization, then, seems to be something we’ve been prone to for as long as we have stood on our own two feet.

[multi-fandomedfreak]

Morning in Bed // Spock

Authors note: Just wanted to write a soft Spock fic with my favorite headcanon: Spock purrs :P

Summary: A lazy morning in bed during shore leave has you and Spock not wanting to get out of bed. (Spock might be a little bit OOC but I tried my best not to do that)

⚠️ Warnings ⚠️ : none

————•————-•————-•—————•———

The sound of water sprinkling against your window rose you from your deep slumber. One of the first things you notice is just how stiff you are. Probably because of you fell asleep cuddled up against Spock. A smile graces your features at the memory as your arms rise above your head as you give your body a good stretch.

You hear your bones give a satisfying pop as you crack them, starting from your neck to your back and ending at your knuckles.

As you twist and turn in bed, you accidentally nudge against a certain someone one to many times and soon hear a small huff paired with an arm wrapping around your torso.

“Cracking your knuckles can increase the risk of arthritis, T’hy’la.” Spock murmurs in your neck, his warm breath spreading goosebumps along your skin. You let out a small giggle at his remark.

His statement a bit out of place, yet so undoubtedly Spock that you can’t help but find it adorable. "Good morning to you too."

You roll over and place a hand his pale cheek, thumb rubbing over the small stubble on his cheek. You pull your head back to kiss his pink lips softly and you feel his hand trail up your arm, fingers barely ghosting over your skin.

His fingers gently encircle your hand, slowly tugs it off his cheek, and then pressed his finger tips to yours.

The familiar butterflies flair up in your tummy at the combination of both the human and Vulcan kiss.

You press firmly against his fingers as he presses against your lips. For a moment, you are in bliss—and you let yourself get lost in the taste of him.

The kisses are rather short lived when he pulls away rather suddenly—like he just realized something—and you were met with the cute sight of his eyebrows furrowing in confusion. "Am I to understand that you think increasing the chance of a medical condition is humourous to you? If so, I implore that you to take your physical health seriously, T'hy'la. It can have a negative effect on your everyday life."

You once again giggle at his cute behavior and lean in to give him a kiss on the tip of nose. Of course he would misinterpret your amusement.

“No I wasn’t laughing at that, love. I just find you adorable.”

The combination of getting a kiss on the nose along with your compliment makes him freeze for a moment, and even in the dim morning light, you manage to make out the light green color that dusts his cheeks. He stays looking at you like that for a second before burying his face back into your neck, probably at an attempt at hiding his flustered expression.

You smile fondly at this and roll your eyes in amusement. Your hand naturally finds its place on the nape of his neck, playing with his short black hair. You feel him practically melt into your touch and he let out a quiet sigh of content into your neck—making the pleasant goosebumps appear once again on the surface of your skin. The sound of the gentle rain, the warmth of Spock’s breath, the steady thumping of his heart against your abdomen, all made your eyes begin to droop.

You are sure you almost fell asleep when a small rumbling sensation catches your attention. At first, you think it’s Spock’s stomach rumbling—something you find insanely adorable for some reason—but then you realize it was too close to your ear to be his stomach.

Your face breaks out into an surprised smile and you have to put your hand over your mouth to stop yourself from squealing in delight. Spock is purring.

He rarely ever did, so the fact that he’s purring while cuddling with you makes you want to squeeze him as tight as possible like a big teddy bear. But you knew he’d get embarrassed and you don’t want this moment to end.

You just settle for smiling widely and snuggling your face into his hair, giggling as quietly as you could. Eventually, the calmness of the morning serenity catches up to you. You allow the purring of your lover to soothe you back into your previously sleepy state—and soon it lulls you back into a peaceful sleep.

[femmefatalevibe]

Femme Fatale Guide: Healthy Habits To Look & Feel Your Best Without Restriction or Unrealistic Routines

Realistic ways to maintain a healthy life/body/appearance (size and weight are all personal, not the most important metric – for certain). No diet culture or delulu-land tips here.

What I've done to maintain my 30-pound weight loss for over a decade, glowing clear skin (no pimples or discoloration, etc.), and super healthy, full & shiny hair, still living life and enjoying it – the mindful way.

Eat home-cooked meals & (plant-based) whole foods – 90-95% of the time

Incorporate at least 1 salad into my daily routine (either a large, hearty lunch salad or a simple green salad as a starter with dinner)

Include at least 1 fruit/vegetable in every meal or snack

Never restrict food groups – whole grains/potatoes, healthy fats, protein-rich plant foods, and produce are all essential to consume every day

Focus on meals, but have whole food snack options on hand to enjoy if genuinely hungry (mainly fruit, lupini beans, edamame, carrots/celery/cucumber with hummus, plain popcorn, handful of almonds/cashews)

Have breakfast after one coffee (before a second) and have dinner late enough (8-9:30 pm) to curb late-night hunger

Only have fruit and tea after dinner; Always stop consuming food at least 3 hours before bed for better sleep/digestion

Order whatever I want when going out to eat, but split dessert

Have at least one indulgent meal/dessert per week

No sugary cocktails – wine, champagne/prosecco, martinis, gin & tonic, margarita, French Connection, Sambuca, Grappa, tequila on the rocks, etc. are great options. Bellinis/fruit plus wine/spirits cocktails are a good middle ground. Sugary drinks worsen the hangover – big-time

Perceive healthy eating as a form of enjoyment, creativity, and nourishment, not restriction or deprivation (it's not if done liberally enough)

Consume a vitamin B12 and vitamin D supplement daily. Keep digestive enzymes on hand for when they're necessary

Always have a large glass of water first thing in the morning (before coffee) and by my side all day long

No soda, juices, sugary drinks, etc. Black coffee, tea, and water only on the daily – wine and no-sugar alcoholic drinks on rare occasions. Smoothies can be a great snack or breakfast, though!

Incorporate an (almost) daily walk into my schedule as a form of exercise and a mental health reset (I aim for 4-5 miles/10Kish steps per day on average)

Do short, low-impact strengthen training exercises 3x a week (15-30 mins each usually) for bone health & toning

Never forcing myself to do strenuous exercise/workout formally in a gym – it's not for me; it doesn't make me feel/look better and throws my hunger & energy levels way off. To each their own, though

Have a variety of playlists ready to go for waking up, working, dancing, walking/workouts, doing chores, and reading/relaxing

Internalizing that sexual health is a core aspect of your health & well-being – on all counts

Maintaining a simple skincare routine 2x per week with high-quality products and a couple of weekly treatments

Prioritizing my body care routine with as much as my facial skincare routine

Wearing at least SPF 30 daily

Exfoliating 2-3x per week

Learning what hair products work for my hair type; Using a deep conditioning mask and a scalp mask weekly

Using only cold water when washing my hair

Incorporating face & body massages into my weekly at-home routine

Using Uriage lip balm, hand cream, and deodorant religiously

Flossing 1-2 times a day/using an electric toothbrush

[reality-detective]

MORE ABOUT THIS↙️

Do you Love making natural remedies?

Did you know that you can easily make this powerful remedy at home?

you will only need :

• 1 orange 🍊

• 1 Lime 💚

• 1 Lemon 🍋

• Onion skin (From 1 🧅)

• Big chunk of ginger 💛

• 5 willow leaves 🍃

• 1/2 tsp Turmeric 🧡

• Pinch of black pepper 🖤 (to activate Turmeric)

• More than pinch of Chilli pepper 🌶

1. Drop them all into a pot

2. Pour in water so all ingredients are under water

3. Steep for 15-20 mins

And you done ✅

Drink 1-2 cups daily

Good in fridge for up to a week+

Benefits of :

Orange 🍊 :

The vitamin C in it can help :

• Protect your cells from damage

• Helps your body make collagen.

Lime 💚 & Lemon 🍋:

• Consuming limes or drinking the juice may improve immunity

• Reduce heart disease risk factors

• Prevent kidney stones

Onion skin 🧅 :

• The skins of onion provides an excellent source of vitamins A, C, E, and numerous antioxidants.

• They're also a rich source of flavonoids, and anti-inflammatory properties.

Ginger 💛 :

• Has powerful components that lower blood sugar levels and prevent heart disease

• Eating ginger every day can regulate the production of insulin in patients with diabetes.

Willow bark 🍃 :

• Has been used throughout the centuries in China and Europe, and continues to be used today for the treatment of pain (particularly low back pain and osteoarthritis), headache, and inflammatory conditions, such as bursitis and tendinitis.

Turmeric 🧡 :

• Its most active compound, curcumin, has many scientifically proven health benefits, such as the potential to improve heart health

• Prevent against Alzheimer's and cancer.

Chilli pepper 🌶 :

• Helps Protect Your Heart.

• Can Help You Burn Fat and Lose Weight.

• Help Soothe Intestinal Diseases.

U can sure use fewer ingredients then shown, if u are sick just use those witch are needed at that time. 🤔

[psychoticallytrans]

Reminder that people with albinism a) are real people with a condition that makes it pretty difficult to live without being constantly bothered and b) that though it is more common in white people, they can be of any race. POC with albinism are still POC, and often face exclusion from both white spaces and spaces for their race, especially Black people with albinism. This is on top of the health issues that albinism can cause due to the unusual vulnerability of unpigmented skin to UV damage, and the vision problems associated with ocular albinism.

[thelov3lybookworm]

Soon, My Love.

Summary: Eris never thought he would be much of a poet, but being with Y/n has proved him wrong.

•○●⛦●○•

Word Count: 1845

Warnings: hints of beron being a meanie, curse words ig, uhh and a beaten up eris :( uhhh also its kinda cheesy ngl lmaoo

A/n: yall these two are adorable i cant omg 🥺 again, ily all soo much for everything🥹

anyways, enjoy!

P.S BERRY ILY THANK YOU FOR HELPING ME AND LETTING ME YAP (yes i will say this in every days post leave me alone)

p.p.s: this is again based on an indian song....

°•°•°•○🌑○•°•°•°

It was one of those days again. The high lord was mad again, and his eldest son had once again been dragged to the dungeon.

No one talked about why he was taken to the dungeon so often, nor did anyone question why he always ended up locked in his quarters with healers at hand for days after.

But everyone knew why.

He was beaten.

Like some training dummy, he was always dragged to the dungeon by his father to be beaten to a pulp, within an inch of death before being tossed back to his rooms.

No one was allowed to enter his chambers after these beating sessions, but being a maid, Y/n was let in to clean his room.

Being a maid, she was underestimated. After all, what would a lowly servant do? Heal the wounds faster? Give him the things he was deprived of? Love and comfort?

Yes, yes she would.

He had been summoned by the high lord a few hours before, so Y/n knew it was time for her to go check up on her lover.

She had heard through some of the older servants that Eris had been taken to his room moments prior, and that the healer seemed more calm than usual. It in turn calmed Y/n, knowing Eris’s condition was probably better than any of his previous beatings.

Broom in hand, she scurried through the winding corridors, her head hanging, her shoulders curved inwards as she knocked on his chamber doors. The door swung open, and the healer's assistant let Y/n in. Quietly, she began her work, trying to peek into the bedchambers.

She was rewarded.

He was naked from the waist up, bruises littering his torso, decorating his face. It made Y/n’s heart thud in pain, watching him hurt. But this was still better than him being covered in blood, unable to move without assistance.

"My lord, are you sure you don’t want me to heal-"

"Are you deaf, Wood?"

The healer’s mouth shut with an audible click, and moments later, he was shuffling out of the bedroom into the sitting area, his assistant hot on his heels as they left, closing the door behind them.

Y/n released a sigh, then leaned the broom against the closest wall before she entered Eris’s bedchamber.

His eyes met her, instantly lighting up, a barely noticeable tilt to his lips.

"How are you?"

He shrugged like she was asking him about the weather and not his health. "Been through worse."

She gave him a stern look. "Can you never answer like a normal person?"

"Am I a normal person?" She shook her head, tired of his antics as she stepped closer, now within touching distance. "Then I suppose I can’t."

Y/n sighed, eyeing the healing bruises on his face, under his eyes, on his jaw, his cheeks.

Her hands were shaking, but she tried to force them to still as she reached up, gingerly touching the black-blue spots.

He hissed, and she jerked back, tears in her eyes.

"Does it hurt?" She whispered, vision blurring.

"I told you, Y/n, I’ve been through worse. I’ll survive-"

"But I won’t!"

He leaned back like he’d been slapped, his eyes fixed on her. She huffed, angrily swiping at her cheeks, cursing the damned tears that rolled down the expanse of skin.

She cursed herself for already crying.

"How long, Eris? When is he going to stop?"

Eris swallowed. "My love, It’s not that easy to kill him-"

"I know that, Eris. But I can't see you getting hurt every other day. Can’t see you get beat over nothing. I- I just can’t."

Y/n sniffled, her hands roving over the multiple bruises on his torso, avoiding his gaze.

"Y/n." His fingers reached up to cup her jaw, lifting her head, the other one reaching out to grab one of her shaking hands. "I know, my heart. I know it pains you to see me hurt, but there is nothing I can do by myself. I have to wait for my allies to formulate their plan, so I can have aid-"

"And when are they going to be done formulating their plan?"

The vanserra sighed, shaking his head. "They say they are planning, and as much as I wish to ask them how long it is going to take, I cannot rush them."

Y/n glared at her secret lover. "I swear to the mother if they don’t get that bastard to his designated hell soon, I will."

Slowly, a grin spread across his inviting lips, and Y/n surged forward, burying her head in the crook of his neck. "I want you to be happy, Eris. I just want you to live freely, without worrying whether breathing a little too loud will get you in trouble."

"I know, sweetheart, I know."

He pulled her closer. As close as he could while sitting on the table, his legs swinging as she stood between them.

Eris pressed his lips to the crown of her head, sighing.

"Soon, my love, soon."

She nodded against his skin, closing her eyes.

"And when he’s gone, I can finally let the whole world know I belong to you." He teased, his breath tickling her ear.

Y/n giggled in response, pulling away as she slapped his chest. She met his gaze, the warmth, the happiness in them warming her insides.

Even the sight of him simply smiling brought her indescribable happiness. She did not know what she would do when he actually found the happiness he deserved, without restraints.

Watching him now, she was reminded of the lines in a poem she had once read in a book when she was younger, the book as worn and loved as the lines were to her.

I laugh when you sing,

I cry when you wither away,

I get drenched in the shower of your love, my love.

She had not understood how someone else’s emotions could affect the other’s happiness so much, but now as she stared at those eyes she could hardly breathe without, she understood.

She used to think being in love would be like finding yourself someone to come home to. Someone to kiss and hug and live with.

But oh how wrong she was.

Love was so much more than that.

It was having someone to tend to your wounds, someone who would do everything for you just to see that flash of happiness in your eyes.

It was waking up to a warm world on the coldest winter night, it was the first sun after long days of rain, it was the first spring flowers after a long desolate season of grey.

It was knowing that your heart, mind and soul no longer belonged just to you, and still being happy to share yourself with someone else for the sole reason that you trusted this other being.

It was knowing happiness after a lifetime of suffering, it was peace after a century of restlessness.

It was hugging Eris, giggling after long days of sobbing together.

Soon, he had said.

"I’ll go now, or someone is bound to come looking."

Eris’s mood instantly soured. He grumbled under his breath, but Y/n only laughed, standing on her tiptoes as she pressed her lips to his cheek.

"I’ll see you later, hmm?"

He nodded, his sad eyes following her back, his lingering gaze like a soft caress as she closed the door behind her.

Soon.

°•°•°•○🌑○•°•°•°

Everything stopped in a moment,

When you held my hand with yours .

I shall follow wherever you are going.

You’re always by my side when I look,

I am the season and you’re the breeze, Sweetheart.

Eris smiled, leaning back as he surveyed his work. He had always been much of a literature freak, but he had never thought his love for reading poems would then turn him into a poet too. He could write poetry, sure, but he had never had the desperate urge to.

But maybe that’s what love does to a person.

Ever since he’d met the shy little baker on the outskirts of town, he had begun writing poetry in hopes it would help him decipher the unknown beating of his heart, the different rhythm he had never experienced before, the unnatural warmth that made his whole body tingle every time she even blinked his way.

Of course, he had been right in that it helped him understand what this feeling was.

He just didn’t think he would be in love when he started.

You gave me all the colours of love,

And pulled me towards yourself,

Let’s get lost somewhere,

Where the time shall stop forever,

And tomorrow never comes, Sweetheart.

The day he had confessed his love- however unexpected- had been the happiest day in his life.

He’d had a nightmare that morning, of Beron finding out about the bakery his son had been frequenting a little too much for it to be considered normal. He had jerked up in his bed, panting and trying to hold back his sobs.

He had decided then that he would have to either stop visiting without letting her know his feelings, or he would have to stop visiting after confessing his feelings.

He knew which he preferred.

So he had gone to a jeweller early in the morning, picked two rings, and then ran to the quaint little building.

Y/n had been surprised when he had shown up to her doorstep, huffing as he begged her to follow him to the nearby forest because he wanted to talk, but after a lot of pleading, she had agreed.

That day, he had asked her to marry him. He had slipped the ring onto her finger, and then told her he would have to stop meeting her because it would then put her life in danger.

The next week, as he was strolling through the palace lawn, he had spied a new maid.

He had been over the moon that day, catching himself smiling at times when no one was present.

That day, Eris had made a vow to himself.

If you want, I’ll give you a million dreams,

If you’re happy then so am I

And as he had watched her leave, just a few hours prior, he had decided that maybe, rushing his allies would not be too bad.

Fuck waiting, he was tired of watching her eyes flash with sadness everytime he had to tell her that she would have to continue watching him get tortured every time his father threw a temper tantrum.

So he had written a letter just after she left, telling Rhysand to, basically, get his shit together or their deal was off.

If they wouldn’t help him kill his bastard of a father, then he would do it himself, consequences be damned.

He had promised himself that he would do anything to make her happy, and so he would.

Even if it forced him to choke his father to death.

°•°•°•○🌑○•°•°•°

Permanent Taglist: @berryzxx @sarawritestories @milswrites @throneofsmut

@daycourtofficial @sweetorangeblossom @secret-third-thing

Acotar Taglist: @bubybubsters @eos-princess @nightless @harrystylesfan2686

@cassie6392 @kennedy-brooke @tele86 @miluiel1

@hnyclover @minnieoo @sidrapotter @piceous21

@mybestfriendmademe @saltedcoffeescotch @lady-of-tearshed @starsinyourseyes

@starswholistenanddreamsanswered @cumuluscranium @byyalady

@lilah-asteria @girlswithimagination @garden-of-runar @girlswithimagination

@sunnyspycat @artists-ally @milswrites @kingdomofstarrynights

@berryzxx @buttermilktea11 @loving-and-dreaming @yucanbmylxdy

Eris Vanserra Taglist: @fell-in-luvs @azrielsmate3 @tele86 @caraaaaugh @ysmtttty

@st4r-girl-official @lazypostfandomer @angel-graces-world-of-chaos @yashiw

[notapradagurl7]

Sick Day In.

Black! Fem Readr x Orlando Johnson from All American: Homecoming.

(a/n: he is so fine. I loved writing this one.😫❤️)

Taglist: @lavnderluv @harmshake @sageispunk @soft-persephone @megamindsecretlair @westside-rot @siqueth @liatreads @torsiar @mypointlessdays @justhornyyme @cristallizednmesmerized @satoruya @planetblaque @hoodbarbiesims @harlemheiress @glitterperms @amplifiedmoan @avoidthings @judymfmoody @life-in-the-slut-house @keyera-jackson @tryingtograspctrl @nzia-writes @multiversefanfics @thecookiebratz

Summary: You were feeling under the weather in your college dorm so your boyfriend Orlando visited your dorm and helped you get better.

——————

You lay slouching against the white bed sheets, cocooned in light green blankets. Your fingers plucked another dark green tissue from the bedside tan table, as you blew your nose with a sniffle. Sliding off the twin bed, you peeled back the covers, revealing white socks gliding over the grey carpet. Frustration set in you as you tossed yet another tissue into the overflowing mint green bin, rolling your brown eyes, and pursing your lips.

A quick hand wash in the compact bathroom, and you returned to your bed, surrounded by the eggshell white cinder block walls in the average-sized dorm room, The walls were adorned with your own artwork, and a cherished family photo. Just then, a few gentle knocks on the door pulled your attention.

"Who's there?" you asked, you weren’t in the mood for company right now.

You were an art major and college student at Bringston University, an HBCU in Atlanta.

You were dedicated to your studies and held the position of club president in the art club.

Your strict academic schedule and demanding leadership role left you with little time to rest. Unfortunately, you fell ill and were forced to spend your summer cooped up alone in your dorm room, unable to enjoy the sunny Atlanta weather. Your hard work and dedication have taken a toll on your health.

You had been looking forward to the summer break to relax and recharge, but your plans were ruined by the cold. You missed your family and friends, who were all back home, and wished you could be there too.

Despite feeling sick, you had still managed to inform your boyfriend, Orlando about your not being able to make it for their date tonight. Although he empathized with your condition, he was still eager to spend some quality time with you. You appreciated your boyfriend's concern.

During your art class, the two college students crossed paths and soon became partners on a collaborative project. It was then that he witnessed your natural artistic talent, admiring every stroke and technique you used.

The two of you worked together, you found it endearing that he took such care in learning how to handle a paintbrush. Your partnership blossomed into a friendship, with you cheering him on at his baseball games and him buying your art supplies when you lost them.

Eventually, your friendship evolved into a romantic relationship and he proved to be an exceptional boyfriend. Attentive to every detail, he never missed a beat when it came to you.

You were grateful for Orlando's support and love and he was grateful for yours too, especially during times like this when you felt helpless and alone. You knew you could always count on him to lift your spirits and make you feel better.

In her comfortable attire, you sported a grey tee shirt that was matched with a pair of grey sweatpants that clung to your legs. You wore white tube socks on your feet, while your raven box braids, gently swayed in front of your face. Your hands were tucked away in your pockets, and the room was filled with the sweet aroma of vanilla, emanating from the trio of candles on your nightstand. The thin, white blinds allowed the gentle sunlight to peek through and shine upon your brown skin. Serene silence fills the room.

"It's Orlando." He said outside of your dorm room, made your heart leap with excitement. You practically skipped over to the door, your hand eagerly grasping the metal door handle.

You slowly swung the door open, your face broke into a smile at the sight of your boyfriend standing there. Without hesitation, you welcomed him inside your cozy dorm room, his hand holding a bag filled with everything you needed to combat the cold you had. Orlando holding a bouquet of red roses. You couldn't help but smile at the sweet gesture as you closed the door behind him.

"Hey, baby," Orlando greeted you with a gentle kiss on your forehead, "I brought you some soup, medicine, and your favorite snacks, your favorite movies. A bouquet of red roses to cheer you up."

"Orlando, Thank you. You're the best." Your eyes glinted with gratitude as you took the bag and bouquet from him, carefully placing it next to the nightstand while putting the flowers in the purple vase. He wrapped his arms around your waist, hugging her from behind. You felt your heart fill with affection for him as your cheeks grew hot.

"How are you feeling Y/N?" Orlando asked in a gentle tone, as he leaned in and rested his chin on your shoulder. His thumb gently rubbed over your stomach, hoping that his presence could bring some good to the summer that had been tough for you.

"Still pretty crappy, this cold won't go away but don't you have a baseball season this summer? I hope that I didn't get in the way of your games," you spoke in a gentle tone, shaking your head as you looked at him.

Orlando gently shook his head, his hands cupping your face as he turned around and

Faced you forward to meet your gaze. He locked eyes with you, his tender touch causing her chest to flutter with nerves. He didn't want you to think he didn't care about your well-being.

"I only care about being with you this summer. You've been overworking yourself and it pains me to see you like this. I'll skip another season." he mentioned softly, his thumb swiped over your cheek.

"Let me take care of you baby," Orlando said in a sultry voice, his gaze fixated on your. He nibbled on his lower lip, as if contemplating the next move.

Your heart raced as you soaked his words, understanding both senses but feeling unprepared for what he had planned. He leaned in for a kiss, but she quickly turned your head, redirecting his lips to your cheek. "I don't want you to get sick," you pouted.

"Let's wait until I get better." you added, you didn't want to risk his health for momentary pleasure.

Orlando let out a contented hum and turned his attention to your bottom lip. After a brief moment, he looked back into your eyes and uttered, "One of the many things I love about you." He then leaned in and planted a gentle kiss on your cheek.

You knew you were lucky to have someone like him in her life and so was he. The two of you sat on your bed, watching movies and enjoying the soup and snacks, you felt your cold slowly start to fade away. But more than that, you felt the warmth and comfort of your boyfriend's love.

—————

The night sky crept up on them faster than anticipated, but with the help of medication, a steaming bowl of soup, and some cough drops, your cold went away.

Orlando's back leaned against the light green plush pillows with your back nestled against his chest and he gently laid his chin on top of your head while he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you closer to him. "Feeling better?" he asked, his voice low and soothing.

You nodded, snuggling further into his embrace. "Yup, thanks to you," you replied, your voice still a bit hoarse.

Orlando chuckled. "I'm just glad I could help." They lay there in comfortable silence, enjoying each other's company. The only sound in the room was the soft hum of the air conditioner.

Orlando placed a gentle kiss on your cheek and used his index finger to lift your chin. "Now that you're feeling better, can I take care of you?" He whispered in a low tone. You flushed and nodded, "Yes, of course, baby."

Your lips met in a passionate kiss as you tilted your heads in different directions, exploring each other's mouths with your tongues. You let out a soft moan as the kiss intensified, leaving a trail of saliva between your lips as you parted.

"Orlando can you lock the door really quick?"

——————

Your naked back laid flat against the white bedsheets with his hands held your hips in place while his slim hips rocked into you, while your fingernails sunk into back muscles and your mouth hung open to let a chorus of moans, "Oh shitt! Orlando!" you moaned loudly, your eyes locked intensely, your thumb traced the outline of his lips while he smirked against your brown skin, he trailed kisses up to your breast. The bed creaked from their movement, you shivered with pleasure, sending tingles down yourr entire body. He plunged deeper into you while you arched your back off the bed.

Orlando lowers his head to pepper warm kisses on the sides of your neck and sinks his teeth into your neck gently, leaving hickeys on your brown skin while he gyrated into you making your toes curl in the air, "Talk to me, tell me how good it feels.." Orlando lulled to you, you gasped at the sensation of his tongue swiveling around your erect nipple while his other hand gently kneaded your other breast and the wet sounds of your skin colliding filled the room.

Orlando's mouth enveloped your nipple, the warmth of his lips sending shivers down your body. You pulled him closer, your hands moving to the back of his neck. "It's so good, Don't stop," you sputtered, pulling him closer to you as you whispered, motivating him more as he quickened his pace, your wet walls clenched around him so tightly "Damn...you're taking it so good baby.." he praised lowly, his nails digging into your hips while his middle finger circled her clit. Tilting their heads together to deepen the kiss, you moaned, "Mmhm!" unable to control the pleasure that was building inside of you.

His hips lunged faster, you could feel yourself getting closer and closer to your climax, "I'm gonna cum baby..." You gasped, He didn't slow down, instead, he pushed you over the edge with a few slow, sloppy thrusts. You cried out his name while your essence gushed around his dick, your body shaking with the intensity of your orgasm.

Orlando pulled out of you, "fuckk.." Orlando gripped the covers and laid them on their naked bodies while pulling you into his arms and he nuzzled his face into your neck, peppering kisses along your brown skin. "You're so beautiful," He hummed, his voice husky. You smiled, feeling completely content in his arms before kissing your lips tenderly again.

———————

[just-a-ghost00]

The aesthetic of your next lover

Warning : 18+ themes are mentioned in group 3

Group 1

Physical traits - XX Judgement, Nature Personality - Ace of swords, Power Job - Queen of pentacles, Speak truth Interests - 3 of pentacles, Patience

Your next lover definitely has a good sense of fashion! They dress to impress and are the type of person that stands out of the crowd. They look intimidating, their eyes especially could be a key feature of their looks as well as their lips, regardless of their gender. For instance they could wear graphic eyeliner or their stare is quite intense either because of the shape of their eyes or their color. Their appearance feels very natural so it is unlikely they went through aesthetical surgery or that they use a lot of products to cover up for their complexes. They have a natural beautiful smile, good skin condition, good body proportions. They feel like the more tall and slender type. They are naturally striking which is one thing people would notice about them right from the get go. They look like they come straight out of an ad. In terms of personality, this person is clever and witty. They tend to use their brain more than their heart. They are driven and ambitious, strong willed and opinionated. They're stubborn in many ways but in their case it serves them good. They know how to push through when needed. They could have a tendency to overthink. As for their career, I'm picking up on influencer and artists vibes. This person definitely has an important status and they use their voice to express their truth, whether it's in person or through social media. The queen of pentacles in this deck looks like she is super confident about her impact on people and is expected to be worshiped. So this could represent singers, musicians, models, actors. Their work could involve the body. So maybe gym instructor or nutritionist. When it comes to their hobbies, I'm picking up on : learning new things, working out, gardening, working on their spirituality / increasing their faith, any creative activity that would get them to meet people. This person likes to share knowledge and spend quality time with people.

₊˚.☾⁺₊✧✩₊˚.☾⁺₊✧✩₊˚.☾⁺₊✧✩₊˚.☾⁺₊✧✩₊˚.☾⁺₊✧✩₊˚.☾⁺₊✧✩₊˚.☾⁺₊✧✩₊˚.☾⁺₊

Group 2

Physical traits - XIX The Sun, Play Personality - 4 of cups, Strength Job - XXI The World, Trust Interests - Black Numen, The Observer

This person looks very jovial and young, bright, funny, approachable. They tend to wear casual outfits, rather baggy and practical clothes. They look confident and friendly. Their could be all types of bodies and ethnicities here but what I'm picking up on is that they look sunkissed. So they could have a lot of freckles and moles, a beautiful tanned skin. Wavy hair. If they identify as a woman, I can picture them wearing flowy dresses/skirts. They're always smiling and giggling. They give me beach boy / beach girl vibes. When it comes to their personality though, it's the complete opposite. They are rather guarded and shy, kind of pessimistic. They can be super resilient and strong willed but I feel like this person has struggled or is struggling with mental health issues. Their mind is less bright than their appearance, let's put it that way. They give me Joker vibes, minus the psycopathic tendencies. As for their job, I have several possibilities. For some, this person could be jobless at the moment because they are taking a break from work and travelling instead. I have a feeling like this person took a leap of faith and left everything behind. For others, their job involves travelling. It could be because they're a flight attendant or a tourist guide. I also pick up on people that do several jobs at a time or that are always changing jobs. Like they could work for short periods of time as a bartender and next they babysit and so on. They kinda give me student vibes. When it comes to their interests though, it's pretty clear : tarot and divination, watching horror movies and dramas, researching about the occult, watching documentaries or reports about past eras and mysterious deaths / unsolved crimes, stories about ghosts and supernatural beings, mythology.

₊˚.☾⁺₊✧✩₊˚.☾⁺₊✧✩₊˚.☾⁺₊✧✩₊˚.☾⁺₊✧✩₊˚.☾⁺₊✧✩₊˚.☾⁺₊✧✩₊˚.☾⁺₊✧✩₊˚.☾⁺₊

Group 3

Physical traits - 8 of pentacles, Trust Personality - XII Hanged man, Surrender Job - 10 of swords, Movement Interests - XV The Devil, Destruction

This person looks trustworthy and mature. They have a bulky body or at least they look strong and wise. They tend to hide their face. I'm picking up on bikers specifically. Also people that have that tech wear or gangsta aesthetic. They wear masks in public transports. They look friendly but also intimidating in some way, because of their posture or their looks. They could have tattoos. As for their personality, they're pretty chill. They like to go with the flow and enjoy life at it's fullest. They're rather open minded and curious. They are empathetic. They have no problem adopting other people's perspective and finding a common ground with others. They're more of the observer type. They're quiet but they always pay attention. This feels more like the introverted types of the MBTI profiles. When it comes to jobs, I'm picking up on physical therapists, psychologists, kinesitherapists, chiropractors, people that practice movement medicine. Also firefighters and police officers for some reason. They help people move on, especially mentally, from traumatic experiences. As for their interests, I don't get the best of vibes from this section lmao but I was picking up on getting drunk, getting high, seeking for adrenaline by adopting risky attitudes. Like racing on the highway or doing extreme sports. Watching porn, having sex. They tend to have self destructive tendencies. I was also picking up on fighting, boxing, street fights. Like MMA and stuff like that. On a more "softer" note they just enjoy wrecking havoc. So let's say they go to a party or a concert they're the type to tear the place down. I'm also picking up on festivals like Hellfest.

[pdriesta]

PROLOGUE

“i want something that i know is real”

pairing — judexblack!girl

genres — fluff, slow burn, workplace romance (she’s a pt)

warnings — sexual themes (minors dni)

word count — 1.8k (for prologue)

summary — y/n, a rising physiotherapist, has just been promoted to work with real madrid's men's team. after a difficult breakup, she's determined to keep things professional. but when jude bellingham, the club's charming new star, sets his sights on her, maintaining boundaries becomes harder than ever. can she resist the pull, or will she risk everything for a love she swore she’d never fall for again?

an — so your girl is an idiot and the day before releasing the final chapter of this series, deleted her whole blog. bare with me, i have so many drafts and notes to sort through before posting everything 😭 i am so sorry to those who have to reread this series and wait for the last chapter. also, if you were apart of the taglist please comment and i’ll redo it <3

masterlist

jude bellingham walked through the pristine halls of valdebebas, real madrid’s renowned training facility, alongside carlo ancelotti. the legendary manager had insisted on personally showing him around, a gesture that wasn’t lost on jude. every step he took reminded him that he was no longer in dortmund, no longer in the familiar yellow and black. he was in madrid now, wearing the iconic white, and the reality of it was still sinking in.

as they made their way to the physio room, ancelotti spoke in his deep, reassuring voice. “we’re all very excited to have you here, jude. you’re an important part of our future,” he said, glancing at the young midfielder with a smile. “i know it can be overwhelming at first, but you’ve got a great team around you to help you settle in.”

jude nodded, trying to absorb everything. the weight of expectation, the grandeur of the club, the new language and culture—it was a lot to take in. but this was what he’d always dreamed of, and he was determined to prove himself worthy.

they turned a corner and entered a spacious room filled with sleek equipment, treatment tables, and the smell of antiseptic. the physio room—where he’d likely spend more time than he wanted over the years, keeping his body in top condition.

“this is where the magic happens,” ancelotti said with a smile. “our medical team is top-notch, and they’ll make sure you’re in the best possible shape. we take our players’ health very seriously.”

jude’s eyes scanned the room, taking in the details. his gaze landed on a young woman standing near one of the treatment tables, adjusting some equipment. she was wearing the real madrid training kit, her warm brown skin contrasting beautifully with the white and navy of the uniform. her braided hair fell just past her shoulders, each braid meticulously done, and her presence was immediately striking.

he felt his breath catch. who is she?

“and this,” ancelotti continued, drawing jude’s attention back, “is y/n. she’s one of our junior physiotherapists. i have to say, she’s quite exceptional. she started as an intern with the women’s team and did such a remarkable job that we brought her over to the men’s team.”

jude blinked, momentarily taken aback. she’s the physio? she looked around his age—young, maybe too young to be in such a prominent role. but if ancelotti was praising her, she must be something special.

ancelotti must have noticed jude’s surprise because he chuckled softly. “i know, she looks young, doesn’t she? that’s because she is. she’s your age, actually. but don’t let that fool you—she’s brilliant at what she does. the women’s team didn’t want to let her go.”

jude couldn’t help but feel a flicker of admiration mixed with something else, something deeper. y/n was his age and already making waves at one of the biggest clubs in the world. it was impressive, to say the least, but more than that, there was something about her that he couldn’t shake.

as jude approached, y/n looked up from her work, meeting his gaze with a warm, confident smile. her eyes were kind, but there was a spark in them that drew him in. god, she’s beautiful.

“y/n,” ancelotti said, his voice filled with a kind of paternal pride, “this is jude bellingham, our new signing. i’m sure you’ve heard a lot about him.”

y/n extended her hand, her smile widening. “of course. it’s great to finally meet you, jude. welcome to madrid.”

“thanks,” jude replied, shaking her hand. her grip was firm, her skin warm, and for a moment, he was caught off guard by the connection he felt. she’s my age, he thought again, still trying to reconcile that with her professionalism. “nice to meet you too.”

“y/n will be working closely with you to make sure you stay in peak condition,” ancelotti continued. “she’s been with the women’s team, but now she’s part of our setup here. and believe me, she knows what she’s doing.”

y/n’s heart swelled a little at the praise, but she kept her expression neutral. keep it professional, she reminded herself. jude was a world-class athlete, and while she was flattered by ancelotti’s words, she knew she had to prove herself every day. “i’m still learning, but i’m excited to be here and work with you,” she said, her voice steady.

jude nodded, still intrigued. “i can see why they wanted you on the team.”

he’s sharp, y/n thought, catching the genuine interest in his eyes. there was something about him that put her at ease, despite the high stakes of her new role. “thank you. it’s been a lot of hard work, but i’m ready for the challenge.”

as they began the tour, y/n walked beside jude, pointing out various areas of the facility. ancelotti excused himself after a few minutes, leaving the two of them to continue alone. jude noticed the way y/n moved—confidently, yet with a certain grace. it was clear she knew this place inside and out, even if she was still getting used to the men’s side of things.

“so,” jude began, glancing over at her as they walked down a corridor lined with photos of real madrid legends, “how does someone our age end up as a physio for one of the biggest clubs in the world? that’s pretty impressive.”

y/n felt a small blush creeping up her neck but managed to keep her cool. he’s trying to get to know me, she realized, her heart beating a little faster. “well, i’ve always been interested in sports medicine,” she explained. “i started studying physiotherapy in university, and i got an internship with the women’s team here at madrid. it was just supposed to be temporary, but i guess they liked what i was doing.”

jude smiled, clearly impressed. “sounds like you’re a bit of a prodigy.”

y/n laughed softly, shaking her head. “i wouldn’t go that far. i just worked hard and tried to learn as much as i could. the women’s team was incredible to work with, and i learned a lot from them. but when they offered me a spot with the men’s team, i knew it was an opportunity i couldn’t pass up.”

jude nodded, understanding the drive behind her words. “that’s really cool. i’m just getting started here myself, but it’s nice to know there’s someone else who’s new to this side of things.”

“yeah,” y/n agreed, feeling a sense of camaraderie. “i guess we’re both finding our way.”

they walked in comfortable silence for a moment, and jude found himself stealing glances at y/n. she was beautiful, no doubt about it, but there was something else—something in the way she carried herself that made him want to know more.

“so, you’re from spain?” jude asked, wanting to keep the conversation going.

“yeah, mostly,” y/n replied. “i was raised here, but my family’s originally from west africa—ghana, specifically. we moved here when i was a kid.”

“ghana, huh? that’s cool,” jude said, genuinely interested. “do you ever get back to visit?”

“not as often as i’d like,” y/n admitted, a hint of longing in her voice. “but we try to go back whenever we can. it’s important to stay connected to where you come from.”

“i totally get that,” jude said, feeling a connection growing between them. “i’ve always thought it’s important to stay grounded, to remember where you started.”

y/n nodded, appreciating the sentiment. he’s more thoughtful than i expected, she mused. “it’s definitely something i try to keep in mind, especially working in a place like this. it’s easy to get caught up in the glamour of it all, but i try to stay focused on why i’m here.”

as they continued the tour, jude couldn’t help but feel increasingly drawn to y/n. there was an ease between them, a natural flow to the conversation that made him forget, if only for a moment, the pressures of his new life in madrid.

“you know,” jude said, a playful smile tugging at the corner of his mouth as they reached the gym, “if you’re going to be the one keeping me in shape, i might need to get on your good side early.”

y/n raised an eyebrow, catching the flirty tone in his voice. “is that so? well, i hope you’re good at following instructions, because i’m pretty strict about my routines.”

jude chuckled, feeling a thrill at the banter. “i’ll do my best. but you know, maybe you could give me some pointers on how to stay on your good side?”

y/n laughed, shaking her head but unable to hide her amusement. he’s charming, she thought, realizing she was enjoying their interaction more than she expected. “just work hard, jude. that’s the best way to impress me.”

as they finished the tour and walked back toward the entrance, jude felt a sense of anticipation. there was no denying that y/n had made an impression on him, and he was eager to see where their paths would lead. for now, he kept things professional—aside from the occasional flirty remark—but as they exchanged a final smile, he couldn’t shake the feeling that this was just the beginning.

“good luck with the season, jude,” y/n said as they reached the door. “i’m looking forward to working with you.”

jude turned back, a playful smirk on his lips. “thanks, y/n. trust me, the pleasure’s all mine. something tells me this season just got a lot more interesting.”

y/n felt her cheeks warm at his words, a sudden shyness creeping in. he probably says this to all the girls, she thought, trying to brush it off. but the way he looked at her—like she was the only one in the room—made her pulse quicken.

“just don’t let me catch you falling behind,” she managed to reply, her voice steady despite the flutter in her chest. “i’ll be watching.”

jude chuckled, the sound low and smooth. “i wouldn’t dream of it. besides, with you around, i don’t think i’ll have any trouble staying motivated.”

as he walked away, jude couldn’t help but feel a mix of excitement and unease. he was undeniably drawn to y/n, but he also knew they’d be working closely together all season. it could get complicated, and he wasn’t sure where the line was between professionalism and…whatever this was. but one thing was clear—he wanted to see where it might go, even if it meant walking a fine line.

as he headed toward his car, he ran a hand through his hair, still thinking about her. this could be trouble, he mused, a small smile playing on his lips. but deep down, he knew he didn’t really mind. after all, some trouble was worth getting into.

next

© PDRIESTA 2024

[theereina]

Bad News Pt. 3

Pairing: Terry Richmond x Plus Size Fem Black!OC "Bella"

Wordcount: +1.7K

Warnings: MDNI (18+) mature content, such as cursing, no smut, heavily dialogue-centered, mental health mentioned (anxiety), *emotional distress*, angst, heartbreak, health conditions mentioned (c*ncer, PCOS, endometriosis), infertility, verbal and physical ab*se mentioned

A/N: I'm open to critiques. I am a little 🤏🏽 sensitive about my writing. Please, don't be too harsh.🥺 Feel free to bring my attention to any typos. Divider by @firefly-graphics. Also, this work is not to be plagiarized or reposted (on any site other than here on Tumblr). I do NOT give consent for any form of republishing or rewriting.

Bad News Pt. 1=> 😢

Bad News Pt. 2=> 😢

Masterlist: 🔥🔥🔥

Over A Month After Mike's Funeral

“He said he'd leave the door unlocked, so I can just go in and get the rest of my stuff,” I said getting out of the car. “My legs hurt so damn bad,” Shante said bending over. “Old ass!” I laughed as I walked to the door.

As I lifted my hand to turn the doorknob, all of the memories from the night before I left came flooding back. “You good?” Shante asked as she walked up behind me. “Yeah, flashbacks whoopin’ my ass. I can't believe that… Fuck!” I said sobbing. Shante’s arms wrapped around me. “Oh, Bella. You'll be okay, mama. You know me and Mama gotchu,” she said swaying from side to side.

This was the first time since the day Terry called that I had realized how much life had changed. The surgery was “successful”. Testing showed no more immediate signs of cancer. The possibility of me getting pregnant was slim to none and would take a miracle, but I was trying to be as optimistic as possible about the situation.

“I'm fine. I promise,” I said patting her hands. She slowly released me from her embrace. “You’re strong, ya’ know. You always have been,” she said playfully bumping my shoulder. “Thank you for that. Honestly, I wish I didn't have to be. What's the reward in it?” I said reaching for the doorknob again.

Upon entering the house, I noticed that everything seemed to be untouched. It was as if Terry had barely stayed here since then. “Has he even been here?” Shante asked spinning around and taking in the scenery. She seemed to be just as confused as me. “I don't know. I didn't really ask. We only text about me coming to get my stuff,” I said walking further into the house.

The longer I stood there; the more I felt an overwhelming sense of dread, worry, and something I couldn't explain. It seemed off. It was almost as if this wasn't anyone's home anymore.

“Let's just go upstairs,” I said shuddering. As I turned to go up the stairs, I heard the sound of a vehicle pulling into the driveway. “I thought his bitch ass wasn't coming while you were here,” Shante said barreling towards the door. She grabbed the doorknob and swung it open. “That's what he…,” I started to say.

To my surprise, it wasn't Terry pulling in at all. I saw his mother climbing out of her small sedan. “Shit! It's his mama. What the hell?” I said palming my face. I hadn't prepared myself to face any of them— not Terry or his parents.

I could see her smile before she even reached the door. “Hi, honey. May I come in?” she asked looking at me. Her hands gripped her purse strap so tight that her knuckles turned white. “Yes… yes, ma'am. How are you?” I asked turning to meet her in the living room. “Good, how about you? I haven't spoken to ya’ since ya’ left,” she said walking up to me. She looked at Shante and mouthed a silent hello.

I didn't know what to say to her. Did I tell her the truth? Did I lie about what happened? Was I supposed to protect Terry? Should I even fucking care?

“I've been fine,” I said trying to stifle my emotions. I knew that my face and body language always gave me away. I wore my emotions outwardly like a second skin or a mask. “Don't lie to me, baby?” she said grabbing my hands. I looked down at the floor. “Bella,… maybe you should just… y’know,” Shante mumbled while shrugging her shoulders. “I've asked that boy a million times. He's as stubborn as a mule. He didn't hurt you did he?” she asked stepping closer. “No, but… Yeah, but not physically. Then again, every word he said felt like a punch to the gut. He…,” I said as the tears began to fall.

Before I knew it, I had told his mother everything— what happened that night, the next day, and what happened to me afterward. I even told her about the surgery and diagnoses.

“I'll be the first to admit that we missed the mark with Terry when it comes to emotional intelligence. His father was so set on raising a man that he just couldn't let the boy feel things. Y’know… he couldn't cry, be upset, or… Or, else. Yes, Terry is a grown-ass man, but… I don't know,” Terry's mother grew silent. It was like she had become lost in her thoughts.

“All I wanted was an apology. If he would've just… just heard me out and listened. But, I guess I wasn't worth it. I get it. Mike was in trouble, but I felt like I was fighting for my life… by my… by my damn self. He wasn’t talkin’ to me. He wasn't communicating with me at all. He was just telling me what he was gonna do, and that was it. I… I… I tried my hardest to let it go, but he had already said too much. There was no turning back after what he said. Whether he was angry, overwhelmed, or not; he hurt me!” I said leaning on my hands on the kitchen counter.

“I know. I'm sorry, honey. That's why I'm gone tell you this, and leave ya’ ‘lone. Okay? Listen to me, and listen to me good,” she said holding my face in her hands. “That's my son sure enough, but that's his father's creation. Don't make the same mistake I did. Run. Don't wait on him. He won't change. They'll tell you they will a million times and never will. They just keep feedin’ ya’ lies to tire ya’ out ‘til ya’ settle. And once you do that… It only gets worse. So, go up those stairs and get your stuff. When ya’ do, leave and don't eva look back. Ya’ hear me?” she said pulling me into a bear hug.

“And I know you said he isn't hitting you now, but if he's anything like his daddy, it's only a matter of time. Baby, don't even think ‘bout it… Lord… Just don't go back. Promise me that,” she said rocking me back and forth.

4 hours later

“That's it. We're done! Let's go. I'm tired, I'm hungry, and I ain't in the mood. Girl, this was a helluva day,” Shante said walking out the door. I made sure that I had all of my stuff before leaving. I looked down at the set of keys in my hand. His mother was right; this was it. I wasn't turning back. I fumbled with the key ring and removed Terry's house key. I placed it on the kitchen counter. There was no reason to have it because I was NEVER using it again. I turned and began walking out the door locking it from the inside. Closing that door felt like ending an entire chapter of my life.

I walked to the passenger side of the car. Opening the door, I got in and slumped into the seat. “Alright. The hotel is only a thirty-minute drive. Let's go!” Shante said starting the car. Even reversing out of the driveway felt odd. It was as if every move from then on was solidifying just how done I was. Shante drove out of the neighborhood and turned onto the main street. The two-lane boulevard went straight through the center of the small town. I leaned back in the seat and closed my eyes. I was exhausted as hell.

After a few minutes, I felt the car come to a stop. I opened my eyes to see where we were— the town center. It was the only stoplight in the city limits. “The fact that there is only one stoplight is insane,” Shante laughed. “Aww, don't be mean. That's not nice,” I said giggling into my hand.

As we were chatting, the red light changed to green. Shante eased into the intersection. I looked out the window, watching the scenery. It was heartbreaking, to say the least. This was supposed to be the start of my perfect life— small town, family home, a husband, some kids, all of it. It was like I lost it all in a night. My thoughts were drifting to a poisonous place, and I knew if I stayed there too long I wouldn't be able to climb out of that hole as easily. I let my eyes scan the small crowds outside the window. This was a normal Thursday night for everyone else but me.

We were nearing the edge of town and slowly approaching the city limits. All we had to do was get to the highway. This was the first time this drive felt so daunting. It was as if I was being forced to reconcile with every decision I made before today— the good and the bad.

Out the window, I could see the small bar that Terry frequented. It wasn't busy but small groups were still lingering out front. As we grew closer, I noticed Terry's truck parallel-parked out front. Of course, he was there. Where else would he be? This was where he went to run. I leaned my head against the glass. The side of my face flustered from the temperature of the cool glass. As we started to pass the back of Terry's truck, I could see his figure in front of the truck. He was leaning with his back against the hood. I sank back into the seat. I honestly didn't want to see him. I waited until we were completely past the bar before sitting up again. I didn't look back. I kept my eyes glued on the passenger side floorboards. What was the point? I wiped a single tear that was making its way down my face. I breathed out a deep sigh of relief.

What would life have to offer now? Genuine happiness. Healthy and reciprocated love. Self-discovery. Less bad news. Yeah, that's what I pray for— for God to finally give me enough space to breathe and grow.

Taglist: @brattyfics @avoidthings @5headsupremacist @creartivefairy @cocooned-butterfly @ariiijestertheklown @miyuhpapayuh @megamindsecretlair @nahimjustfeelingit-writes @nayaxwrites @jimmybutlrr @nayaesworld @gg-trini @vivaalenaa @slutsareteacherstoo @kirayuki22 @skyesthebomb @blowmymbackout @blackerthings @mymindisneverhere @androgynousgaz @becauseimswagman1 @gwenda-fav @poektiou624 @keyaho @pocketsizedpanther @sageispunk

@onherereading @blyffe @beenathembo @helloncrocs @thiccc-c @curvyambitions @insidefeelingofanadult @theglamclosetsl

@charismablu @4ftwonder @4pfsukuna @writingsbytee @babybratzmaraj @pinkpantheris @honeytoffee @talkswithdesi

@thabiddie23 @disc0fairy @persethegawd @iburias @episodes-ff

[cacoetheswriting]

celebrity skin. (part ten)

pairing: rockstar!eddie munson x popstar!fem!reader word count: 4.6k summary: the final resolution, at a funeral, of all places.

content warnings: 18+, minors dni: suggestive & mature themes, adult language, minor character death, topics of grief, alcohol consumption, mentions of blackmail, use of pet names, — if i missed anything in this chapter, pls let me know!

& psa: images used in the header don’t depict readers physical attributes! these are also described vaguely in the story, only that she’s a little shorter than eddie.

celebrity skin. masterlist

a note from me: hello friends, it’s been a while. apologies for the radio silence and for living this fic unfinished until now. life just happens and surprise, i had a whole ass baby last year (call me mother). postpartum is not easy and it especially has not been kind on my mental health, so i took time to get my pink back while taking care of another human. i appreciate you sticking with me and being patient - this is for you!

“This is all my fault.”

Unsurprisingly, Eddie blames himself. He always does. Even if he isn’t the one to be held liable. Call it insecurity, whatever. Eddie Munson just believed, from a very young age, that he was a walking magnet for all things unlucky.

Certain events occurred for no reason the brunette could explain, other than there being an unknown higher power had it out against him, which he’d often say to Wayne in hopes of some show of sympathy or a lesser reprimand. And even though, for the most part, Wayne agreed with his nephew, there were certain tricky situations for which the young Munson boy only had himself to blame. „Bad decisions lead to bad outcomes”, Wayne would mutter at the dinner table as Eddie sat, a bag of frozen peas pressed to his swollen eye. 

His luck had briefly changed once he accidentally became friends with Chrissy Cunningham.

The preppy blonde offered him kindness — not something he’s been privy to before, especially not from the Hawkins upper class. Chrissy didn’t care about his upbringing, his social status, living conditions, or his style. She stood up for him in front of the rest of Hawkins’ finest on more than one occasion, pure acts of heart that to this day many of the townsfolk believe cost the cheerleader her life.

“Jesus Christ,” Eddie exhales, then repeats, “this is all my fucking fault.” Panic detectable in the sound of his voice.

“Stop that,” Marianne insists in a whisper, eyes focused on the rockstar as he paces, hands deep in the pockets of his black tailored trousers. 

He sighs. “If I had never gotten involved—”

“Eddie, I mean it.” Marianne cuts in. “This is most definitely not your fault and none of the people gathered here today believe that it is.” She tries her best to reassure her favourite client. “I know that may be hard for you to believe considering what you told me recently…” 

There’s a pause.

“No one thinks this is your fault, Eddie.”

“She does,” the rockstar says simply, ending the conversation. He then pushes through the double doors that lead inside the church.

The silence inside is agonising. Almost suffocating. Patrons dressed head to toe in all shades of black, staring blankly ahead at the altar. Staring at the open casket which was surrounded by floral arrangements made from dozens of white roses.

Eddie looks ahead, toward the front row, where the family is sitting. Your family. From oldest to youngest, all of your siblings, shoulder to shoulder: Caroline, Valentine, Amelia, and little Jonah in your father’s arms. Your mother is a little removed. She’s at the end of the row and by the way her body is shaking, Eddie can tell she’s crying — understandably so.

There’s a lot to be said about death. Eddie knew that first hand. 

Chrissy’s death, for example, was an event that forever changed the trajectory of his miserable life. The accusations, the mob mentality, all of that was the push the brunette boy needed to finally get out of town and make something of himself. Escape. Although, it could have gone either way. He knew that, he wasn’t a complete idiot. It took a long time for the rockstar to come to terms with what happened that night. And even now, years later, Eddie knew that back in Hawkins, he’d forever be blamed for something he didn’t do.

“None of the people gathered here today believe that it is.” Marianne’s words from just moments ago echo in his ears as he desperately tries to get a grasp on his feelings.

This was the third funeral Eddie has ever attended. Second, if you count the fact that the boy was far too young to remember that of his mother’s and it’s not like Wayne ever shared any details. Actually the first funeral because although Chrissy’s burial was a day the brunette rockstar could never forget, he wasn’t entirely welcome there. That didn’t stop him, of course. He did not make his presence known. Instead, Eddie hid between the trees at the cemetery, watching from afar. 

Seemingly, the entire town was there which made the young Munson boy angry ‘cause these people didn’t care for Chrissy. They were all phonies. Acting like they knew her when in fact, if asked, they wouldn’t even be able to say what her favourite colour was. Eddie knew her. He really knew her. In fact, Chrissy told him so many times. “I think you’re my only true friend, Eddie.” She admitted one afternoon. “You know, it’s quite lonely being the most popular girl in school. With you though, I don’t feel so alone.”

The memory makes his heart hurt. More so because it’s been locked away for years. Hidden in a metaphoric box that the rockstar swore he’d never reopen. Recently though, considering the circumstances, Chrissy has been on his mind a lot more. Her big blue eyes, her bouncy blonde ponytail. Her smile, her laugh. The sound of her voice. Her kind heart. Recently, Eddie’s been thinking about his friend quite often. Thinking about how he wasn’t allowed to say a proper goodbye.

Goodbye…

“What are you doing here?” 

His head snaps up at the question, brown locks bouncing with the sudden movement. He quickly looks around, but no one else currently inside the church seems to be paying attention to him, or to you. And you… You’re staring at him, waiting for an answer. 

“I-I came to pay my respects.” It seems rather obvious, although maybe not.

All you do is nod. 

Eddie notices how you’ve been crying. On instinct, he reaches for your hand. He wants to offer you comfort. Some solace amongst all of this sadness. To his surprise, you don’t pull away. In fact, you allow your fingers to tangle themselves amongst his and when the rockstar squeezes, once, gently, your whole body seems to relax.

“I am truly sorry for your loss.”

You respond with a timid smile. It’s not much, but it’s all you can muster. 

Thursday, October 14. Time? 9:27pm. That’s when you got the call. Your strangely composed father broke the news. An accident. You could hear sirens in the background. He was driving. Someone ran a red light. He was okay. Time seemed to slow as he continued. “Sweetheart, your Nana… Can you pick up your mom and meet us at the hospital?”

The older woman had never looked so frail. Bandaged up. Connected to all sorts of wires and tubes, monitors that beeped so loud you thought your brain was going to explode, machines that were essentially keeping her alive. Your Nana’s eyes were closed when you walked in and for the next three days. You took turns sitting by her side. Talking to her, reading her favourite gossip columns, Val even repainted her nails while Caroline always made sure her hair was brushed and perfect.

News of the accident spread. The hospital room quickly filled with bouquets of flowers and various ‘Get Well Soon’ cards — one of which was signed by Eddie.

Once he heard about what happened, the Corroded Coffin frontman dipped early from his own album release party to fly back to New York as fast as he could. Yes, your grandmother has made it nearly impossible for him to be with you, but at the end of the day, she was still your family and you were undoubtedly hurting. Setting his own feelings aside, he wanted to be there for you. Simple.

If you weren’t at the hospital, you were curled up in bed, crying into Eddie’s chest. 

Then you got the call.

Your Nana was awake.

Doctors later explained her sudden surge in energy as terminal lucidity. In the moment however, no one questioned the miracle that brought her back to you and your family. No one batted an eye. Just happy to see her eyes open and hear the snark in her tone of voice. If only for a few hours, she was back to her old self. 

“I’m going to get some more coffee.” With a gentle squeeze to your Nana’s hand, your mom exits the hospital room leaving you briefly alone with the matriarch of your family.

There’s a split second of silence during which you contemplate telling her how scared you were that she was going to die, but you stop yourself because there’s no need to burden her mind with such horrific thoughts.

Although, your Nana seems to read your mind.

“Please don’t fill your pretty head with worry,” she says reassuringly, “I know I gave you all quite the scare, but it’ll take a lot more than some car crash to take me out.”

“Don’t joke like that.” It comes out rather flat.

“Then smile for me, my darling.”

You abide by her request, lips twirling upwards for your Nana to see. She mirrors your expression and for the next twenty seconds, all is good again in the world. She really wasn’t going anywhere. You didn’t have to be scared anymore.

“Now that we got that out of the way,” she says matter-of-factly, “This little accident I found myself in did force me to rethink my behaviour with regards to a few things.”

You shake your head. “You don’t have to do that here.”

She ignores you. “I do have to, and want to, come clean about something I did.”

With a swift exhale — for added courage — your Nana spills her shame. Once you hear Eddie’s name escape her tired lips, you sort of black out. Only hearing fragments that don’t entirely make sense to you. Something about bias and her distaste towards the metalhead. Chrissy Cunnigham. The blackmail. The breakup. Your breakup. There’s puzzle pieces missing. Yet even without the borders, even through the haze of the moment, you got fragments of an answer to why Eddie ended things that second time. 

The woman you cherished, the woman you had to thank for your entire career, was unfortunately the same woman who came between you and happiness. She made a choice for you. A choice that ended with you bed bound for weeks. Heartbroken. A recluse.

As she squeezes your hand, through tears in your eyes, you ask her if it was worth it. Forcing Eddie to hurt you like that.

Unfortunately, you never get an answer.

Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. The room fills with doctors and nurses faster than you can realise what’s happening. They’re asking you to move out of the way, so you do. You stand at the wall, arms tight against your heaving chest, and you watch, terrified, as the professionals do everything in their power to keep your grandmother alive.

But the beeping doesn’t stop. Not exactly. Instead it slows. Flatlines. 

At some point, your mom had returned to the room. She’s panicked, asking what happened. You don’t know what to say, pushing yourself further into the wall behind you, hoping it would swallow you whole — it doesn’t. 

Chest heaving, you don’t know how to act, what to do. In the blink of an eye, the space of a single breath, your Nana passed away. This wasn’t happening. This couldn’t be happening. “She was fine”, you find yourself saying, but no one is listening. The nurses unplugging her lifeless body from all of the machines, while the doctor speaks with your mom, calmly explaining what could’ve caused the sudden change in your grandmother's state.

“She was fine,” you repeat, but don’t move from your spot. Instead, you close your eyes to hold back the tears.

The sadness was imminent. The anger however, well, the anger overwhelmed you.

Your Nana, this human you idolised for your entire life, the person who helped you and shaped you into who the world deemed worthy, the woman who always had your back, turned out to be a liar. She was no better than any of the other leeches who had befriended you only to mooch off your success. 

Whatever her reasonings were at the time, she put your happiness aside by threatening your career. Something you’d never thought she’d do. And what was worse, she made a decision for you, then kept it a secret for months on end. 

Her and Eddie.

The rockstar is waiting for you when you get home — like he has been every night since the accident. You find him in the kitchen, cooking. He turns when you walk in and immediately drops the wooden spoon in his hand, wiping his fingers on the denim of his jeans before pulling you into a hug.

Eddie is the epitome of comfort, that much you’re sure of. But you don’t immediately return the embrace because your mind is confused. He lied, in a way. He said he wasn’t the relationship type and that’s the reason he can’t be with you officially. Now you know that’s not entirely true.

The Corroded Coffin frontman senses your apprehension, though before he gets a chance to ask what’s wrong, half formed sentences are spilling from your mouth into the crook of his neck.

“She’s dead.”, “She told me—.”, “The blackmail…” , “Why didn’t you?”, “She died— She died before I-I could get the full story.” “Eddie, what the hell—”

You pull away slowly, then wipe your eyes with the sleeves of your cashmere sweater. Eddie’s hand travels to your cheek ‘cause he doesn’t want to let you go, afraid that if you take even one step away from him, you’ll never find your way back.

“I’m sorry for your loss,” he whispers and you nod. “And I’m sorry for all the lies.”

“Eddie—”

“Please,” he interrupts, “I-I promise I will explain everything to you, but right now,” the rockstar pulls you in for another hug, “you should get some sleep.”

You nod against his chest and let him lead you across the apartment, towards your bedroom. Like a knight in shining armour, Eddie helps you into bed, taking off your shoes in the process and placing them gently at the corner of the bed. He covers you up with the soft duvet before closing all of the blinds and making himself comfortable next to you.

Before you know it, your eyes are closing. You let tiredness win.

When you wake up, some fourteen hours or so later, the Corroded Coffin frontman is nowhere to be found. Just a note on your bedside table with the words, I’m sorry. I swear I’ll explain my side of the story in time, but right now, it’s best if you’re with your family. I don’t want to get in the way of your family.

Fuck him.

-

“I am truly sorry for your loss.” Eddie’s words are sincere, you can tell by the slight tremble in his voice. “She may not have been my biggest fan, but I know she loved you.”

“I doubt that.”

He shakes his head. “She loved you, that’s why she did all that she did.”

“You promised you’d explain.”

“I don’t think this is the time—”

“It’s never the right time with you.” You say harshly while looking away, at the crowd of people that knew your Nana at one point during her adventurous life. “Excuse me,” you add without glancing at him again and walk in the direction of your family.

The service is beautiful. 

You fight back tears throughout, knowing that there’s always someone lurking, trying to catch you crying for a picture they can later sell to the tabloids for hundreds of dollars. And you do a good job hiding your emotions because that’s what you were always taught to do in public situations. Taught so by the very woman your family was mourning today. You feel her presence strongly in that moment, as you bite the inside of your cheek. You can hear her voice inside your head, telling you to straighten your back and hold your head high, “Never let them know what you are thinking.”. Instead, you’re trying your best to focus on the eulogies. 

Your father speaks first. With your little brother steadily in his arms, he reads a letter written by your mother, who was too distraught to come up and read it on her own. His pace is slow as he enunciates every single syllable — something he only ever does when he’s angry or sad. When he’s done, he looks at your crying mother and mouths, I’m sorry, I love you, before stepping off the altar and letting your older sister take his place at the stand.

“My grandmother was a remarkable woman.” Caroline clears her throat into the microphone. She’s equally as composed as you, although the smudged mascara in the corner of her eyes gives away tears she shed before the funeral started.

Caroline continues, “She led an amazing life, although not without its challenges. She overcame it all with grit and wit — qualities she tried to pass onto us, her grandchildren.”

She pauses. Almost as if she’s hesitant to keep going.

“I’m sure each and every one of you here today has a story to share on how my grandmother touched your life. She was a friend to all and an enemy to some.” That earned my sister some laughs. “Her priority had always been our family and now that she’s gone, we definitely feel a void. I for one don’t know if I can still be the same person I was when she was here.”

Caroline finishes with a prayer. She then strides towards the front aisle and retakes her seat next to you. She squeezes your hand, sympathy and encouragement, as you take in a deep breath and stand. 

Everything feels in slow motion during the fifty-odd seconds it takes you to stand where your older sister just stood. You retrieve a piece of paper from inside the sleeve of your couture black jacket and lay it flatly in front of you. The words blur in front of your eyes but only for a split second. “Never let them know what you are thinking.”, and so you don’t.

“Our parents give us life. Our grandparents give us a sense of who we are and where we come from,” you begin. “This week, as we said goodbye to my dear Nana, it hit me how incredibly lucky I have been to have her, not only with me, but as an integral part of who I’ve become in my life.”

“Without my Nana, I’d still be singing Dusty Springfield in my bedroom. I wouldn’t know how to play any musical instruments and the poems I’ve written over the years, well, they’d remain just that. As the incredible matriarch, the regal leader in our family, she pushed all of us grandkids to strive for greatness. Without her, we’d be just another family. Faces lost in the sea of New Yorkers. I know I speak for all of my siblings when I say that thanks to our warrior Nana, we learned who we really are and we are able to live our lives without—”

You pause and look up at the crowd, your eyes first landing on the front row, your family, then further, until they meet a certain brown pair. Eddie offers an encouraging smile and even though there are many things running through your mind about what he and your Nana have done, your lips tilt upward to return half the expression.

“We can live our lives freely,” you change the sentence before continuing, “And even though she’s no longer with us physically, I can still feel her presence. She’ll be with me forever.”

As you wrap up your eulogy, the piano begins playing soft notes of You Decorated My Life by Kenny Rogers. Your father stands along with five other men and they take their place by the casket, lifting it carefully then carrying it out of the church.

-

“Your eulogy was really beautiful.”

Eddie’s voice breaks you away from your thoughts.

The rockstar is leaning against the doorframe of your teenage bedroom, where you’ve come to hide from all of the people gathered in your parents house for the wake. There’s a shaded smile present on his face, kindness behind his eyes. You instantly feel warm.

“It’s hard to be angry at someone who’s given you so much.”

“So you’re just angry with me then?” He probes, stepping inside and gently kicking the door shut with his heel.

Shaking your head, you say, “No, I’m not angry with you, Eddie,” then sigh, “I think I’m just disappointed.”

“That’s probably worse,” he admits.

You pat the blanketed spot next to you, inviting him to sit down. He does so without hesitation and when his arm brushes against yours, you instantly lean your head against his shoulder. 

“I just wish you trusted me enough to tell me the truth. Allow me to make my own decision.”

Eddie nods. “I get it. I guess I was just scared you’d think I was making it all up, trying to paint your grandmother as someone she isn’t.” 

For a moment, it’s quiet. The afternoon light seeps in through the half-closed curtains, offering a glow that you’ve only ever witnessed in Eddie’s Hidden Hills home.

“Why did you leave that night? When she died, I woke up and all I had instead of the person I really needed beside me was a sorry excuse for a note.”

He doesn’t immediately answer and that frightens you. A thought crosses your mind that he’s still hiding something — which would be crazy since it was your Nana who seemingly orchestrated everything.

“Yeah, that was an asshole move on my part.” He admits, “I uh, I was scared that when you woke up, you’d be twice as angry about this whole debacle with your grandmother that you wouldn’t let me tell you my side of the story.”

“So, your gut instinct was to run?”

“Always is, sweetheart.”

You scoff. 

“I wanted to give you the space to grieve and understand your own emotions first before I loaded more shit onto you,” Eddie says honestly.

There’s a split second of silence.

“Can you tell me everything now?”

“If that’s what you want.”

You lift your head, tilting it so that your eyes catch his. 

“I want to move on with our lives and that can only happen when I have the full picture.”

Eddie raises a brow. “Our lives?”

“Yes,” you say, taking his ring-clad fingers in yours, “Ours.”

-

“That’s the moment I really knew I can never let her go again,” Eddie says, hand on your thigh.

The interviewer clicks her pen, satisfied with all of the information the two of you have given her over the last few hours. She lets out a content sigh to prove as much before leaning forward slightly, over her crossed legs. 

“I gotta say, you guys are my favourite Hollywood couple.”

“Thank you,” you say with a smile, then glance at Eddie. “We also think quite highly of ourselves.”

“That we most certainly do,” the Corroded Coffin frontman agrees with your sentiment and beams at you affectionately. Your heart soars.

It has been almost one whole year since your Nana passed and you know she’s rolling in her grave ‘cause of how much you’ve accomplished with the rockstar by your side. 

After the funeral, Eddie agreed with Marianne, his label, and most importantly, his bandmates, to stay in New York while you finished filming for Law & Order. He took the occasional trips back to the West Coast for photo and video shoots along with management meetings, but for the most part he was by your side, day and night. He came with you to set, championing you on this new journey from singer to actress.

When filming for your character wrapped, you packed a big suitcase and joined him on tour. You’ve never really gotten to go on a road trip. Whenever you went on tour for your albums, it was from the private plane to the venue to the hotel, repeat, repeat, repeat. Being on a tour bus with Eddie and his friends, in a different American city every other night — all while getting to watch Eddie do what he does best, on that stage, in front of thousands of screaming fans — was somewhat also a dream come true for you. 

During that time, you finally met Eddie's uncle, Wayne. He came to the show in Indianapolis, watching the performance with you from backstage. Afterwards, Wayne spilled about one thousand secrets and stories from Eddie’s childhood. Some heartfelt, some more delinquent. From the time young Eddie broke his arm while trying to save a stray cat from a tree, and the countless times a teenage Eddie would sneak out to sell weed at rich kids parties.

You fell for him harder then, and even more with each day that passed.

Months later, when the Assistance is Futile tour had its final show in Los Angeles, you told Eddie you weren’t going back to New York: “If you’ll find space for me in that big mansion of yours, that is.”. The brown-eyed rockstar smiled wide at your words, then said: “Our mansion, sweetheart.”.

While you brushed up on your acting skills, landing more and more television and movie roles, Eddie got to work on his third album with Corroded Coffin. That’s when he found the notebooks. Lyrics for songs the two of you had written during your summer together, before your grandmother meddled and it all went to shit. He brought them to you, a twinkle in his eyes.

“I know you’re transitioning away from singing, but hear me out…”

That’s how The Popular Kids was born. Corroded Coffin’s third studio album, with one twist. You.

Which brought you both here, to the interview at Eddie’s Hidden Hills home that has, over a short period of time, also become your home.

“Well, it was great to chat with you two today. Get to know you a little more intimately,” the interviewer says, “Your entire relationship has been very secretive up until this point.”

“Well, this business can be quite cut-throat and there’s very little privacy, which we know is what we both signed up for when we first got into the industry,” Eddie begins, he’s unbelievably natural, he’s made for this — being a star, “The little things, well, we just wanted them to be between us.”

The interviewer nods.

“That’s a little lie, no?”

“What do you mean?” You ask as innocently as you possibly can, because even though you’ve shared a lot of stories today, you haven’t given the whole truth. That remains between you, the rockstar, and your Nana (God rest her soul).

She doesn’t push, quite unlike any other journalist that you have ever come across. Instead, she says how a photographer will be over tomorrow for the shoot and reconfirms that you’ll be the cover of the October issue. 

Eddie sees her out and when you’re alone, he asks if you’re happy that you two did this.

“Apprehensive, sure. But yes, happy.”

“Good.” He leans down to plant a kiss on your temple. “I’m happy too and the world deserves to know just how happy you make me,” he adds while trailing kisses along your cheekbones and down your jaw.

You smile. “I don’t think they should know that much.”

“No?” Eddie’s teasing.

“Some things are better kept private,” you murmur into his ear, “Like how you corrupted me at that pool party.”

“And I’ll continue corrupting you for as long as you’ll let me, sweetheart. Getting under your celebrity skin until the end of time. That’s a promise.”

celebrity skin. masterlist

thank you to all that have been following this story from the beginning and to everyone that has come along the way — i appreciate you more than words can say!

& tagging some cool ppl that expressed interest: @eviethetheatrefreak , @thirddeadlysin , @haylaansmi , @nope-thanks , @tlclick73 , @vintagehellfire , @ashlynnkennedy , @avalon-wolf , @sidthedollface2 , @astheni-a , @bebe07011 , @aysheashea , @papillonoirsworld , @vol2eddie , @spideyanakin-interacts , @rogers-sweatbands , @mimsie95 , @mmunson86 , @eddiesguitarskills , @ohmeg , @hereforshmut , @eg-dr3amer3 , @rexorangecouny , @morganlolitta , @littlexdeaths , @bl0ssomanddie, @doritodynasty (if your user is crossed out, it means the tag isn’t working. pls check you’ve enabled tagging in your settings)

[she-is-ovarit]

Identifying as.

This is Rachel Dolezal, who legally changed her name to Nkechi Amare Diallo. Dolezal is a white woman who identifies as black and insists that she is transracial. Growing up, her religious white parents adopted four black babies, claiming that they "saved them from being aborted", and routinely delivered strict punishments to their kids including Dolezal. Dolezal does not seem to have a good relationship with her parents and, based on interviews, wanted to distance herself from them and distance herself from rural white culture.

"I've never questioned being a girl or woman, for example, but whiteness has always felt foreign to me, for as long as I can remember. I didn't choose to feel this way or be this way, I just am. What other choice is there than to be exactly who we are?"

She apparently "passed as black" for several years before her parents came out and said that she was white and is identifying as a black woman, and she was asked in a TV interview if she was African American and responded with "I don't understand the question". She taught Africana Studies at Eastern Washington University. She crafted a fake story in growing up as black and has argued that she experiences race-based related hate crimes. She darkens her skin and gets perms and started using hair products she observed her adopted black sibling to use. She lied about her father being black and lied that her black adopted brother was her son.

I hope that as details of Dolezal's story are read about, we are able to understand that tanning white skin does not make someone a black person, that blackface is wrong and racist. I hope we recognize that what makes someone black isn't a collection of racial stereotypes, isn't based on feeling a kinship with black people more than with white people, and that being black isn't based on not feeling a connection with white culture. I hope we understand that a black person cannot identify out of racial oppression, and that a white person cannot identify out of white privilege.

Jewel Shuping, age 38 now, was born healthy but dreamed of being blind since age 13. She stated her mother would tell stories about finding her walking down dark hallways at age 3, and mentioned that by age 6 the thought of being blind comforted her. When she was a teenager, Shuping bought a white cane and learned to read braille, becoming fluent in it by age 20.

She claims to have asked a psychologist to pour bleach in her eyes so she could fulfill her lifelong dream of being blind, and that the psychologist "understood her" and agreed to do so after giving her numbing eye drops to help with the pain (which was not ultimately helpful). She deliberately waited to seek medical attention so doctors were unable to save her eyesight. Gradually, over the course of six months, she became blind.

What Shuping has is considered a real mental health condition called Body Integrity Identity Disorder (BIID), a rare condition in which people who are born without disabilities believe with conviction that the should be disabled. There is another name for this in political activist circles, termed "transableism".

"I went blind on purpose, but I don't feel it was a choice."

Several other people with BIID are pretending to be paralyzed to use wheelchairs, with many not being driven to the point of causing harm to themselves to become disabled but instead living full lives faking being disabled.

I hope that as details of the stories of people pretending to be disabled are read about, we are able to understand that feeling like oneself should be disabled is an incredibly serious mental health condition and does not really mean that a person is "disabled inside". I hope we recognize that identifying as disabled does not make someone disabled, and that feeling a kinship with disabled people or a comfort in the thought of being disabled does not mean a person truly is or should become disabled. I hope we understand how people with mental health disorders claiming to be disabled can place further strain on resources and accommodations provided to disabled people. I hope we understand that inflicting pain, disfigurement, or physical altercations on healthy people to "help them physically match how they feel" is an inhumane way to treat a mental health condition.

Paul Wolscht, who changed his name to Stefonknee Wolscht, was married to a woman for over 20 years and fathered 7 children before deciding to live life identifying as a six year old little girl. Living as a six year old little girl allows Wolscht to escape depression and suicidal thoughts because Wolscht gets to now play - even when in jail in solitary confinement for nine days for an undisclosed reason.

“If I’m six-years-old, I don’t have to think about adult stuff.”

Wolscht still drives and drinks coffee, but does so feeling and identifying as a six year old.

Emile Ratelband, age 69, petitioned the courts to allow him to change his age to 20 years younger because he "does not feel" 69 years old. Ratelband has argued that he did not feel comfortable with his date of birth, that age 69 did not accurately reflect his mental state, and that at age 69 he experiences limits.

“When I’m 69, I am limited. If I’m 49, then I can buy a new house, drive a different car,” he said. “I can take up more work. When I’m on Tinder and it says I’m 69, I don’t get an answer. When I’m 49, with the face I have, I will be in a luxurious position.”

Ratelband even asserted that doctors have told him he has the body of a man 20 years younger, and he said that he was willing to renounce his right to a pension. He argues that if people are able to legally change their sex on documents, there is no reason why he should not be able to change his age.

I hope that as we read these stories of people identifying as a different age, we are able to understand that feeling like you are 20 years younger or 40 years younger does not really make you that age. I hope that we understand that even though identifying as a different age might help avoid suicidal thoughts, being discriminated against on dating apps, or denied resources, it does not really change biologically what is. I hope we understand that there are also broader societal and legal consequences to being able to legally change one's age. That an adult might identify as a certain age to trick kids into trusting them so they can sexually abuse them, and/or that allowing an adult to legally consider themselves a different age would make it easier for adult predators to gain legal access to kids in environments in which they would normally be socially and legally discouraged from being in.

[femmefatalevibe]

Femme Fatale Guide: Products & Services Worth The Splurge

Fashion:

A great couple of bras in black/nude (your best skin-toned shade)

Comfortable, breathable, and seamless underwear

Outerwear (Coats, jackets, blazers)

The perfect pair of jeans

An LBD that works from day to night

Comfortable, sturdy, sleek, and timeless footwear (a versatile black boot, a black heel, white sneaker, and a black flat/loafer/sandal)

A timeless and versatile crossbody or shoulder bag (a larger one for the daytime/work or school and a smaller one for nighttime/events)

One or two well-made classic jewelry item(s)

A conversation-starting item or accessory

Beauty:

Sunscreen

Any skincare/skin cosmetic products that are game-changers for you

A quality hair brush, comb, and hair towel

Your signature scent

A quality razor/hair removal product

Vitamin C/Retinol serums

Reliable hair tools and sturdy nail tools

A quality hair heat protectant/scalp cleansing or conditioning spray

Makeup brushes and beauty tool cleaners

Home:

Lamps/lighting

Couch/desk chair

Everything for your bed: Bed frame, mattress/sheets/pillows, etc.

Knives

Dishwasher-safe and microwave-safe dishes & cups you love

A full-length mirror

Vacuum

Storage solutions/cedar blocks or moth balls

Quality holders for everything: Paper towels, shower storage, hooks, mailbox/key bowls

Name brand paper products/household cleaners

Electric toothbrush & Waterpik

Sound-proof headphones/Airpods

MacBook Air

Health & Wellness:

High-quality lettuce and/or sprouts

Organic frozen fruits and vegetables (if fresh is too pricey)

BPA-free canned goods

Potassium bromate & glyphosate-free grain products

Snacks free of artificial colors

Quality coffee

An at-home massage tool/heating pad

Fur products for skin/hair removal

Vitamin C/Retinol serums

Quality running shoes

Anything that goes near your vulva or into the vagina: Sex toys, lube, condoms, toy cleaners, pads/tampons/menstrual cups, cleansing wipes, etc.

A yoga mat, resistance band, and a pair of small ankle weights

Spotify subscription

Books and audiobooks

Services:

Therapy

A top-tier haircut

House cleaning (even if it's only once every couple of months)

Top-tier hair removal/brow maintenance services of your choice

Best doctors, dentists, OB/GYN, and dermatologists you can get

At least one personal training/styling session in your life

Professional/Social:

Ownership of the domain for your full legal/professional name and/or business name

A CPA/bookkeeper/fiduciary financial advisor

Automation workflow/content management system software

A lawyer for contract review/LLC services

Personalized stationery/"Thank You" cards

Memorable client gifting for the holidays/milestone successes

Niche skill-based certifications (Google, AWS, Hubspot, etc.) or courses made by trusted professionals in your field

Subscriptions in world-leading and industry-authority digital publications

[seniorpollinationtechnician]

June 3, 2024 | 10:32 AM

This is Dr. ■■■■■■, conducting the autopsy of the decedent, identified as Subject Six, case number 24-81. The subject appears to be a humanoid alien female, approximately five feet five inches, weighing one hundred and forty pounds. The body was received in a sealed containment unit, transported from the scene by the ■■■■■■■■■■■■. The external examination reveals the subject to have been in good health; skin is free of lesions or signs of malnutrition. The subject's complexion is a golden hue with a slight luminescence that could indicate bioluminescent properties, potentially serving to warn or evade predators, lure prey, or communicate between members of her species. The subject possesses a total of eight ocular-like structures, four are located on the forehead, one on each side of the maxillary sinus and a pair in the standard human positions. Visual acuity and range of vision likely exceed human capabilities. The individual exhibits an unusual ocular condition characterized by completely black sclera and irises. Additionally, six of the eight eyes lack visible eyelids. This configuration suggests a highly specialized evolutionary trait but further analysis is required to ascertain the purpose of this feature. They display an elaborate, tattoo-like pattern across their forehead and cheeks. This pattern is symmetrical, with bold, sweeping lines that mimic the the natural markings found on a tiger's face. The pigmentation is deeply embedded, suggesting either an advanced tattooing technique or a possible dermal anomaly. The individual exhibits elongated, pointed ears. They extend upward and taper to a fine point. Additionally, each ear is adorned with multiple piercings, ranging from the lobe to the upper cartilage, indicating influence by cultural or subcultural aesthetics. The subject's hair is long, black and appears well-maintained, indicative of good health and grooming hab━━oh my god, she's alive! ■■■■■■■■, get the medical team here immediately! ....this is Dr. ■■■■■■, Subject Six, case number 24-81, just regained consciousness at 11:00 AM. I need to...we need to... (The recorder is turned off abruptly.)

[travelingthief]

Lord Apollo Devotional Post

Divination

Tarot/Oracle decks

Pendulums

Rune stones

Charm casting supplies

Crystal balls

Scrying bowls

All divination tools

Cookie fortunes

Tea leaves

Art

Paint brushes/paints

Canvases

Colored pencils/markers/crayons

Collages

Journals

Art books

Art prints

Anything you made

Sculptures 

Zines

Stickers

Any art supplies

Music

Music boxes

Records/CDs/Cassettes

Record players/radios/MP3 etc.

Headphones

Music posters

Band merch

Instruments/String instruments

Dance shoes

Concert tickets

CD book holders

Sun and Light

Sun imagery

Sunscreen

Aloe for sunburns

Golden objects

Matches

Candles

Sunflowers/sunflower seeds

Health and Healing

First aid kits

Medicine

Pain relievers

Band-aids

Ice/heat packs

Rice socks 

Masks

Aloe

Ambulance toy cars

Adaptive aids

Archery 

Darts

Bow and arrows

Arrow quiver

Dart board

Targets 

Bullseye 

Myth Related

Snake skins

Snake imagery (Python)

Laurels

Bay leaves (Daphne)

Palm trees (Birth myth)

Ravens/Crows 

Crow feathers (Why the crow is black)

Cattle/turtles (Hermes birth myth)

Swans (Pulled His chariot)

Hyacinths (Hyacinthus)

Locks of hair 

Food

Vanilla

Honey

Sunny D

Lemons/lemon juice

Oranges/orange juice

Citrus

Water

Devotional Acts

Health

Take your meds

Go to therapy

Exercise

Wear a mask (We are still in a pandemic y’all)

Get vaccinated

Get STI tested

Self care

Learn first aid/CPR

Keep a first aid kit at home/in your car

Learn about alternative medicine

Advocate for accessible healthcare

Advocate for disability rights

Volunteer at a hospital

Give blood/plasma

Volunteer at a retirement home

Learn about anatomy/biology/nutrition

Learn about health conditions/rare disorders

Eat healthy for your body

Help fund surgeries if you can

Trip sit for someone

Listen to your body

Sunlight

Sunbathe

Wear sunscreen

Start a garden

Make sun water

Open all the windows on a sunny day

Music

Go to a concert/show

Listen to music

Make a playlist for someone you love

Make a playlist for Apollo

Learn an instrument/play and instrument

Dance

Sing

Support local bands

Explore new music

Burn CDs

Divination/Prophecy

Daily tarot card/rune stones

Make an oracle deck

Give divination readings

Shadow work

Colormancy

Art

Make something

Draw/paint/craft

Write a poem/story

Color

Make a zine

Go see a play

Get a tattoo

Archery

Throw darts

Use a slingshot

Take up archery

Go to a shooting range