#it is SO. HARD. to live by that value when i’m starving myself

[angelmush]

one thing that has helped me w/r/t recovery and fatphobia is that even if i dont feel ready to address myself with compassion and kindness reminding myself that the way i treat myself because of my physical appearance will always inevitably carry over to how i treat and view others has honestly been so helpful realizing that getting over myself and my own fatphobia is a loving act and important socially not just internally. sometimes its easier to feel compassion towards others and then go, oh! i deserve the same thing. and by depriving myself of that i might make the mistake of judging and hurting others. anyways your recovery posts and food pictures are so wonderful and inspiring <3

1. thank u for taking the time to send such a vulnerable and honest message and 2. YES YES YES a billion times YES !!!

it’s a deeply loving and revolutionary act to address the beliefs that you consciously and unconsciously hold about fatness. as much as you might try, those conditioned feelings bleed into everything. they seep into our behaviors and in turn, wound us and the people around us.

you worded it beautifully. recovering and working hard on unlearning the ugly stuff undoubtedly makes us into kinder, gentler people. :-)

[cherrrycrush]

i found out

i found out

i found out and it’s killing me

and it’s killing me

i talked to a friend, one who doesn’t know you, and they said to let you do what you are doing. and to let you go.

there is some peace in me knowing that you will never read this. even though you’re here, and you have always been right here. you see right through me and my words.

i’ll never haunt you the way you haunt me.

but i found out. and i can’t stop thinking about it, or make sense of it.

was your perfectly perfect girl not enough? how? i always feel like i need to make my case. to prop myself on a pedestal and sell myself to you, like a dusty marketeer, or a bazaar salesman. i need you to see my value, take me in, and i’m so tired. i am so tired of feeling like i need to sell myself to an unwilling buyer.

and i found out.

i found out, and it’s killing me horribly.

i saw them, i saw you liked them. what goes on in your mind? maybe i knew you less than i thought i did.

i found out.

and it makes me hate myself.

i don’t know what i want at this point. is there a point?

i found out. but on the same night, i saw the sparkle in your eyes.

but it’s easy for you. it’s so easy for you to shut me out, isn’t it? to move on, to go back to never talking to me. our story that will never be passed down the line. all these years, now forever fleeting and only existing in our crumbling minds. our brains that begin to decay with old age, and yet our grandchildren will never know you or i existed.

do you think our children with other people will find each other and fall in love?

i wonder.

i want to always be near you, live close by. see you at the shopping centre, have a heart attack and smile at you when you meet my eye. all the pain in one go. a look of yours so distant and different.

but we’ll both know.

you are and always have been the greatest love of my life. i will always wish it could have been you.

i found out. but it doesn’t even matter.

because i found out how you truly felt, too. i found out how much you knew you loved me. i know it could never leave you, even though you left me.

i cry, and you tell me not to. i know it’s pointless. the sun will rise again. our story may not be so over as i thought but…

i found out.

and it feels like a knife in my throat.

how could i have been so naïve?

is this what it is to be a man? is this what it means when they say that love can be cruel and hard and relentless and ugly?

is this what i will always be? not good enough? even though i was the best.

i was a mistress, and a whore, and a wife, and your bitch. i was the whole thing.

but your mind wanders, my love.

and i found out about it.

it killed me, and i did not speak a word on it. that is how much it killed me. for me to not speak on it, to bare it out and hang it to dry. i hope that you know it killed me. it became something i could not even communicate.

because i found out.

and suddenly, laying on my bed on a lazy spring saturday afternoon without you in my life, i realised that… though loving you was never comfortable, or truly very fun, i had been blindsided by the own blaze in my heart at the sight of your name on my screen. i propelled everything. and when i say i was the one who gave you relevance, i meant that. my love for you was the only thing…

imagining you, imagining me. this was my salvation.

but you’re not, are you? and you didn’t really, did you? you got bored of me? even though i know the game, i know the variety men need for their starved and depraved brains.

i wish you knew how badly your secret ate at me.

and then i remember my bites of unfaithfulness, and i think i deserved this. karma. i believe it wholeheartedly now. or maybe i made my own karma in retrospect, and gained some power and balance back as a result. i think what i found out is justified. i think what you did and were doing is okay, and i deserved it.

but baby, i know that your heart beats for me. further down, in the marrows of your bones. away from that twisted and secretive mind, i know you feel like you let me down — because you did — and you can no longer bear to see my cry as the monster i become.

so elusive, your thoughts. i cannot understand them.

but i found out.

and i looked at my body, and hated it. i starved myself and didn’t get thinner. i became sickly. all my self-preservation tactics had come undone.

i suppose i know i am not alone. even pornstars get cheated on, huh?

because i found out.

and this will have to be something i live with, with someone else i sleep next to. haunting me.

you’re haunting me, babe.

it’s haunting me.

because i found out.

[taxfraudhousewife]

i miss you i know you couldn’t personally solve everything

but i miss the illusion of someone actually knowing what’s going on

you at least acted like you outgrew your anger

i know the whole point of extremism is being pissed off instead of so fuckin depressed

it is so much easier as fuckin depressed as i am to just hate

i learned it from where i think you sent me but i didn’t learn it from you

except i fully fuckin learned it from you but i don’t think i would have if you had one single fucking iota of self preservation instinct

basic material needs aside and glorious revolution aside i just wish i could’ve seen what kind of art you might have made

in some socialist utopia where you had the time and the health

i still really wish you’d written books i hate reading i would’ve read them

you’d be so dangerous if you were some kind of alt right religious fundamentalist

no one who’s as autistic for politics as you should be so charismatic and likeable and eloquent in so many languages

everyone is so lucky to have you on their side

you really were on everyone’s side

still i’d trade the life of every person you saved if i could have you back

i’d burn the whole fuckin world down

and like yeah maybe that’s the problem

i’m not like you as hard as i try

the thought of giving up access to raw food for mushu is enough to steer me away from glorious revolution

but these fuckin hormones are raging in me

they’re boiling and i’m gonna burst

the hormones that make me so unsure of my gender

just because i never got to live and love with a woman as angry as me

the internet tells me the revolution is a girl but all i know is angry teenage boy type shit

angry grieving bottled up feelings don’t talk about it type shit

taking your anger at the government out on your family and yourself and whoever will take it

when the system is fucking you so life is fucking you so there is nothing more than this except for the hypothetical ashes if you burn it all down

i don’t trust my ideals of what to do with the ashes

not anymore

i’m so desperate i’d back some really reactionary shit i’m not like you

and you were kinda the only person i could just fucking blindly follow because i don’t care you might be the smartest and also leftest person i know and i don’t care if you’re wrong

you felt like real living proof that there’s hope

like for real material hope and now both are dead

thank you for that i’m doing great everyone is doing great

it’s not like no one wants to get fucking down and dirty with this shit except for like thirteen people in the world who are actually serious about it

but now it’s twelve because somebody can’t just chill the fuck out for a second

I KNOW IM CONTRADICTING MYSELF

“YOUR VALUE TO ME COMES FROM THE MOTIVATIONAL SOCIALISM YOU PROVIDE BUT ALSO YOU SHOULDVE NOT DONE THE SOCIALISM BECAUSE ITS DANGEROUS”

I KNOW

i know

idc i just miss you a lot

any excuse to negotiate you back to earth

like you weren’t extremely aware of the risks

like you didn’t voluntarily sign up for that shit but you did

and it caught up with you and i respect your decision to be a good fucking person or whatever

but your absence is really affecting my ability to attempt to be a good person and it is terrifying

i don’t want to do this without you

i wanna say i can’t

but I can because i have to and i have to because i can

like you i guess

but i have no plan

no one to blindly follow

and the revolution won’t come all at once like a messiah

and my messiah will not come back a third time

cause you are as dead as ground beef on the pavement

and finally i know that ghosts are only real when you know they are

i can hear you

i want to like it

but it’s like the smell of salt when you’re starving

and there is nothing to binge on

still i obey when you tell me to be good and safe and kind and all that hippie shit

and yeah maybe it’s because you’re the only person who ever directly taught me to be kind

and yeah i should be grateful that you haven’t fully left me yet

but how long is it until your ghost spends so much time in my head

that it becomes just as sad and desperate and afraid as i am

when does it stop being you and start being me

i’m scared of the thought of that

i try to keep your ghost pure but fuck i am so angry at them

yeah for facism and whatever but personally i hate the individual people who tried to make specifically you inhuman

i’m sure it’s an anger you would understand but it didn’t fucking eat you inside out

your ghost is made of sunlight and the steam coming off black tea

and i am polluting it with wildfires and fireball

and i’m sorry and i’m trying but i don’t even know what im supposed to be trying to do

i’m trying so desperately to be kind

it’s a hard thing to do when you just want the social interaction to be over

but you never wanted the social interaction to be over

your whole stupid ideology and my whole stupid religion is the social interaction

maybe it’s exhilarating because it’s terrifying and gratifying and heartbreaking

maybe i just have social anxiety or autism or both

fucking shit dude

i wish you’d tell me what to do

im just a dumb stupid woman i can’t do this shit

man up resurrect devise a fucking plan for me to blindly follow

i don’t want this shit

i do

but i really don’t

but there’s only one way to sustain a slightly less depressed baseline depression

how glorious it is to be a socially anxious socialist

and how glorious to be autistic and standing at the precipice of freedom

but i can’t break surface tension

cause i’m scared of not fitting in

you wouldn’t understand

and that’s why it had to be you

[solardick]

Some pot hazed maddening

Skip the imprinting.

As a sense of beauty to it which, is abundant in the clouds. When they come alive.

What’s it to say that it’s counter to what is taught. The russian liberty standing on the threat. The existential threat. Even to one. The shield, not a sword. She’s protecting. In the defence there of. To protect the land. Firmly into the soil by a point. The couple are walking with her, onto it’s platform. The will is motivated to stand up as justice. And not embracing the coming end.

That level of destruction goes against it’s existence. The land will be dead. Nothing to protect. Beside the constant sidetracking by hyping threatening intent. Fun little parade to exercise a demon.

Save that not pushing that button back. Take a hit to show the futility of the exercise. Would the others fight for? Don’t tally the weight. It’s another trap. People are a nation. Nobody fights for them. Would the rest of the world stand by? Just watch as the unload strike after strict while it stood by and watched, no reciprocal act. While it burned.

So pushly and lamely dramatic.

Stupid fools, think they’re important. Exercise the will.

Can’t rely on the news none that reach me. Make it up as i got along catch a stream a fallow it. See where it leads.

Igh, i choose decay. Plagued by pestilence.

For a love too good to be true. It cannot exist. And nothing less will do.

They want me to waste it on myself. Like elevating the feminine isn’t the goal. The main body of information. Freeing female sexuality from oppression. Make entire rallies mad eof the stuff. Mean while russia is like.

Fight for your land. Fight for your mother.

There’s no balance. It isn’t a graceful step. Storm with your natures. A nourishing will to protect, lines the steps of the courts, land of desert rational. Breathe with its life. The presence is. No sacrifice is too strong.

Die hard.

You don’t make too good of a soldier if fear guides you away from confrontation. Build a monument to it. A sacred space. No, son. Fight on. A mother’s love is important. What is that, not trapped by sickness.

For a justice on a nuke, temperance pours out one cup to the next not holding all its power in on place. The water’s seen ascending from the lovers.

Not a card ill ever experience.

Not much of a life.

I want to die.

Fuel for the fire.

The only emotion. To process. Arid. The closest to tempting desire drying them out with the dry. Liquid beings starve. Cheers to being raped queer. Stuck as a child never able to grow. Life is meaningless. Beyond tempting temptations. No track, no will.

Neat. It’s the world card i envisioned and the time of its release. Tricky lyric scene in that one.

Id removed the to be a man part. Not to eccentuate it but aggravating it in the effort. It was brought to me like this. I’m a king in this world. It works on dot. Flip some venom around. Associate its pressence. Battling the like mind with the opposition likely carrying the same. Som some aspects are cut. But associate to things sung amd what happens. While keeping the disposition as such.

A little roid boost to give sense to form, and a lack of sleep to wary the walls. Headache desires sleep

So here’s to having a disgusting pigheaded personality. People will not like me. An angel in bed. And no more growth forward. Stagnated in the moment. Disconnected from god.

As im watched every moment of everyday. Settle cues. Life isnt worth it.

Poor guy, just wanted to live a righteous life with traditional, yet functional, family values. Satiate my insatiable lust for power and intimacy. There is no other guiding motivation. Be known for ever more as an object of ridicule by the self in-dined superior beings. Keep playing to the script. Everything endowed to you all serves a single purpose. “Mine” a voice.

Might as well put on that dress. Doubt the irritation in my ass is never going away. Twist my arms. So to say. Ugh my god. My entire existence. From birth on. Wtf.

I’ll try. Again.

No, their not going to stop harassing me, playing doctor with my spirit. Indon’t want to be alive anymore. Life has only ever been against me. Even in the ways it was kind. Theres no memory telling me thats false. Why am i alive if i cant have a life of my making. Instead of being born for no other reason then others amusement in degenerate shit. Theres no life in me anymore. This fucken script has no ends. I want it to stop. 40 years is too much. What the fuck is this life.

A world that knows no means to a positive expression. In a world where im not afraid of external pressures, degenerational low webs of peoples. Afraid to speak. Gatecrashed peace. Going from beaten on to beating on. Watching people gleamer the superior stance with that fucken smile. All life has ever been. It won’t change so how would i? Doesn’t make the best role modal to self modulate of. Don’t give in no surrounded. Its evil and doesn’t care there is no humanity in it. It’s a dry txt. And your a number. A string of code. File goes into this box. Besides i don’t believe in torture. I believe its real.

The Y chromosome never changes. It just passes down to the next. X gene activation! No man you dont have a choice. Survive as it is and there wont be a whole lot brilliant in the future. You have been governmentally sanctioned off. Extreme reconditioning. Before ever have breathe your own sense of self. Free from external pressures and conditionings. Nada. Never knowing a single breath from grave to grave. Whats there to live for? It’s never going to end. Wheres the nukes when you need them. Destroy everything.

Attack everything.

Guess this is the rest of it. Fighting against the onslaught of abusive slavery pretending not to be so. All existence. I’ll never be able to do anything or think for myself without it. 40 fucken years. Hahahahah jesus.

Well that was fun. Now what. Their trip is over. An di get nothign out of it. Not even a lesson.

Hapoy canada day! Everyone celebrate! I’m a homo! Yay! Fucken nazi cockskrs. But the one thing that is true. I was born to be raped. It’s my never failing destiny. And the world has always supported that. As a child, as an adult. With zero development is between. Nothign but fucken nazis. They won the war. And rule the world.

Kindnof want to spend the rest of life helping people like me. But, thats never going to happen. Im jew living nazi germany.

Aber wir sind deine Freunde!

Sorry i dont speak cockskr. Thanks russia for supporting me by killing thousand of people

They probably all deserve. Cause if theyre anything like me they certainly do. Even god says so.

Polarizing. Saturn square uranus. Uranus opposite staturn. And on and on. Most of these moves are like this. Pluto square pluto. Trying to undo all that was done.

Ive seem some horsemen. Blowing in on the wind. A brown, thick misty wind blowing in with a gust. Particals and sand. Attacks your vision. Entropic states do fallow.

Hate that they gave me to their intentions, and presumptions powered by dominion, failing to see their own play. Such is the state of animal nature. And the throne, a resting figure, for the home. Twisting my arms and causing me harm while displaying a state of warmth. My entire life. Can’t develop on my own. Break away, and run away to a place far from here. While all influence to my dissemination will be littered with the same. There is nothign to do while they build it up on high to a pedestal. The promise of inevitability, consistently Messaged in all so subtle little ways. But being stationary and not struggle from tether to tether make sit a whole lot easier to get to work. As with all surgery, anaesthesia and sedation makes it easier and safer to work.

I photographed it in a cloud. Scary scene. Two hideous, alien, monster, demon,(s) Opening up my skull. Fiddling with it inside. Captured the injections and the soviet sickle and hammer emblem, about 20 years ago now. Twenty years in this script. With like 18 earlier years of much and less the same. From all sources. Didn’t matter where am i’m placed with. I want it to end.

20 years of effort to bring me to this point. Hahah yeah. 20 straight years of torture.

I was headed that way anyway with all this direction. Then they perverted it. And started forcing it. Creating a complex they could use to torture me with.

An artificial complex. That i live out, uninvolved with. Nothing in me is of my own creation. Some walls erected by the life instinct. But they want me to die. To untether the only pillar of self i was ever able to do. Evil forces just twerling around above me. Focusing all attention into one area while being severed from growing forth.

Built and fostered in good faith. As a monument of past experience. Cant create another one in the name of all this. Because i’m not allowed to do anything. All they are is evil. It’s my cross and they want it.

The archetype they made is standing right besides me. Din’t recognize it. It isn’t real. Let it starve. Like i am. Your not the real clark kent. You’re an imposter. But they keep feeding it. Powered by youthful innocence. Just the same demon trying to dress up all attractive for me. Wear me!

An Eros sun lilith conjuction leading onto a Pholus conjunction on the threshold? Domineering and hard influences coming as reactions even to a silent party. Mars to the physical senses of touch and taste, of money to give. to inline with the vital force of eros. As reaction counter flow to a forceful domineering influence. With a moon seeking closure from the abuse, in distanced states, and story and glamour. Desiring a position of compassion and understanding. A longing from solitude and estrangement and degrading and all the rest of those words add etc. disposed with a will to teach and experience as one learns and finds the value of what it is. As in hind-sight. So even if there is no will for sex, the giving is shining with it. So it comes off as rather awkward. Its always a sexual link. Even if its not me that has it. Coming from a another party.

Unless they’r old. er. And don’t resonate from me. But everryone is in on it. It plague all of it with negativity. The demon stelium in leo of expressions is tied to Aquarius by Jupiter. The electronic. The group the community. Public workshops. To name relevant associations to my person. Wishfully if that, to square the SN and midpoint of both saturn and pluto. And to be next inline to square mars. The majority vote of pressure vetos the martian drive.

I sometimes wish i was a moron not to be able to see whats happening. Because thats a torture way up there.

The ultimate receptive nympho woman. The difficulties of conscience. A will to be away. Pain of failure. And to the will and freedom to recreate myself again. Preceding all of it. Away from all the influential bodies stalking and fiddling with my existence. Away from the hell endured for those many years. Beaten one from one place to the next. Created this whole mess with intent.

As long as i don’t get off, i’ll never be disgusted.

Sex slave me. Fulfill these fantasies. Put me in the middle i want both of you.

I like it in the bum. It’s like messaging the sphincter. Like messaging any tense muscle. It feels good. There’s no reaction. There’s no orgasm. No sexual tension. Until one starts damaging the inside of the rectum. The lack of pain receptors, instead, triggers the bodies infantile reaction to cry. It allows for processing and integrating painful emotions into the structure. This alleviates the pressure of like minding emotions by giving them an outlet. The life has been structured in such a way for such a period of time, that this could become a life long motive for shame. To counter and process a life time of hardship. Forever shadowed by laughing clowns.

My fight is with the demon that runs their lives. I just mistaken that it runs the world instead. Well the entirety of my world. Because i cant be left to be well alone. A d figure out my shit with the pressemce of god and not these louts of nazis.

Fucken die already. Where’s russia with the will to fight? In this fake reality of bs.

What i mean…..

Selling all their crucifixes backwards so the foot rest points to the sinner who rejected the gay Jesus.

Well bye amazon. It was fun.

Это неправда.

Wish i could keep my feed clean. But, apparently thats a bad thing for them.

Медведь живет в лесу и не любит людей.

Bear lives in woods and no like people. Fuck off or ill bomb you.

Two more rounds of this coming. It never ends. Until your an old weathered man with no prospects. Without any joy found in the entirety of history beyond carnal pleasure.

I’ll be happy with two hung guys that fuck me stupid every night. I want to feeling of violation to stay with me always. If you cant get rid of it love it. Like jesus did. Tell me I’m beautiful. And cute, and call me shy. Make me feel proud of my accomplishments. If that accomplishment is you. Be my entire world, i’ll serve you at every call. Turn me completely. And then toss me to the curb. As is the repeating theme of this entire life. Positive negative. Doesnt matter life will find a way. And you’ll still be alone.

Family always defined me as shy. I was never shy. Afraid of your abusive negligent, blind bs. Every-time i spoke it was chaos reacting in turn. Flip the fuck out. Tried working on speaking in person. But it was impossible because life is wrapped up in this whole thing. Not much to build off from pre directed script with a purpose.

Lead to me to the righteous path of wanton down trodden. It doesn’t haunt me they do.

My heart is dead. I no linger care who you are. Fuck off.

I’ll just stand next to this pillar. Fortified by the carnage. And in the presence here of god. Till im an old gray miserable over weathered man, too eroded to see my skin. And I’ll spend the last couple years. On the fringe and watch the decay escalate to the eyes close and it’s back to the grave.

No wonder it was a difficult birth. I didn’t want to be. Forced and pulled out agaisnt the will. And then pushed down a flight of stairs. Thats all you need to know about my life story.

Just repeating at the collective level. The demon has birthed an army. That it envelops.

Indint eant to eb alive anymore. 40 years is too much.

Well that was fun drug haze rapist weekend. And ingot to hear my family again, Especially my father laughing diabolically. Like the stupid drunk bipolar fucktard he is. Baby booming fuck head. Good job being a dad. Fucken loser. Hurry up and die so i can get my inheritance and spend it all On dildos, butplugs and lube. Ill even order a sexdoll made in your image. Keep the fantasy going.

[ronikamerl]

Practise What You Preach

I gave a lesson yesterday. It’s one I’ve given multiple times, I have the info, the stats, the data down to a t, I don’t need to prepare for it anymore. 

It is a very general overview of what the first steps are when you’ve written a screenplay and would like to get started in the industry. It’s very straightforward. It’s about an hour and a half, with time at the end for questions or discussion. 

I use examples from my own career, and examples from different aspects of the industry. And in all honesty: I make it seem quite easy. It is easy. All it takes is hard work, determination, a willingness and ability to put yourself out there, and an urge to get to the next step in your career. 

I spoke about how the writing is first, it must always come first. First we write, and we write so, so, so very much. We must be confident in our craft, we must have a back catalogue of valuable materials, we must know what we’re doing - only then will we be hired reliably and often enough. 

But then I walked home, enjoying an early summer’s evening in Dublin. I contemplated. I wondered. 

I like my career. I like the way it’s going. It has ups and downs, and sometimes it throws me violently to the ground, grinds me to a pulp and spits me out - but then it lifts up again. I am not starving, but I’m no millionaire either. I get hired regularly, though the value of the gigs is not always enough to make a living. It’s an artist’s life, very much so. 

Why? 

I have been in the industry for about 4 years now, and quit my corporate job almost 3 years ago. It’s been a rollercoaster since, with projects being cancelled, other projects never quite making it over the finish line, collaborations disintegrating… in short: the film business. 

But I’m not quite there yet, I feel. I’m not quite in the place I’d like to be, in the place where I saw myself being at 32 years old, the place I imagined I would be. 

A lot of that has to do with my personal life, of course. After the pandemic, my life shifted dramatically and a devastating loss in my private life threw me off my game for a while - but still. I thought I’d be further along. I thought I would have made it by now. More so than I already have. 

I have to often remind myself of my successes: I’ve worked with an Oscar winner, I’ve dined with Hollywood Executives, I’ve been hired internationally on a continuous basis, I’ve had books published and I run a film festival. It’s not that I’m not successful. I am. By any and all standards. 

So what is holding me back? 

As I walked through Camden Street yesterday, the sun glinting in my eye, the people of Dublin out in full force, drinking and laughing and being Dubliners, I realised that I was comfortable where I was. I love my job. I love doing what I do. And recently, I had lost some of the urgency because I was so happy with where I was. I was beginning to become complacent. 

Not an hour earlier, I had preached loudly and passionately to the students in front of me that we must always keep pushing, that we must never stop writing and never stop promoting, and never stop collaborating - we must work at it every. single. day. 

But was I doing that? No. 

Was I writing as much now as I had done when I started out? No. 

Was I promoting myself as much as I had done in the beginning of my career? No. 

I was relying on the seeds I had already planted, and I was woefully neglectful of planting and seeding the next batch. The harvest was drying up, because I was only watering the plants that were already bearing fruit - not ploughing new fields, cultivating new land. 

It’s not that I am being lazy. My days are quite full. But there is more I could be doing. I should still be doing all the things I told my students to do. 

So here is an attempt at that. An attempt to right this wrong, and re-up my game. I must practise what I preach and take my own advice. And pretend that I have not made it yet, at all. 

[soul-renewal]

Just gonna write all this out and not care if it’s badly written.

i want to envision myself healed, mostly, to a point where I can interact with people and feel ready to make friends.

I have healed a lot, but the prominent problem I have is my ability to communicate well. When I was younger, i loved to talk, after getting to know someone to a certain degree, and I felt i could keep conversations flowing, but now... I struggle with that..

It’s my biggest weakness...

I think one of the reasons why I have trouble communicating well is because when I was younger, my dad said I talked too much and I grew up with people who didn’t keep up their interactions with me, they’d ignore me, so I’d receive no feedback or reply.

Eventually, I felt that talking was bad...

Being young, i thought that if I shut up, my father would notice and realize something was wrong, but actually, I didn’t know that in his head, he probably thought he won.

My little girl finally shut up, he thinks...

Didn’t think, “oh no, my little girl, why did she changed and become quieter?”

Truth is, it didn’t matter if family give me food and shelter. I didn’t feel like I was cared for on the inside. In my head, it was like, “If you don’t stop talking, we won’t give you love.”

I grew up in a very cold, perfectionist environment. i have to be proper...

I wish I had a real family outside of my biological family.

The more i think about it...deep down, I hate the family I grew up with. I had little mental and emotional support. They made me feel starved for love and even a little crazy. i just wanted to FEEL like I was loved and cared for.

I think another reason I have trouble talking is because I didn’t have good role models to bounce off on in communication. I was majorly sheltered from people and even if i did talk to schoolmates, they were cold too. They were all very rigid, judgemental and thought that being childish was stupid. 

I definitely grew up n the wrong environment. i wish I ran away from home...

It’s been hard to find people who have the same values as me.

I want to find my true, safe, lasting, soul family. 

i want to find my true self and feel safe in my own body, to have my own thoughts and feelings and feel valid and seen and understood by the right people.

I am proud of myself for doing things that were hard, but right. i let go of people that weren’t good for me and I let go of good people that weren’t on the same page as me...

Even if I want someone, and they don’t want me back, there’s nothing I can do. I will not do anything. I’m proud of myself for sticking to myself, even though I desire companionship, if it’s not the right one, I have to keep moving on and waiting.

I think the right one for me will truly SEE me. I have NEVER met anyone who’s come closer to seeing and understanding me. It was always me that was able to see some people for who they are or how they needed to be seen, it was always me inspiring, and knowing how to help, so it would be nice to meet someone who can make me feel seen, heard, etc....

I deserve it....

Right now, I’ve been trying to let go of someone who’s happily unattached and not looking for a relationship. I want to be with him, but he cannot and will not be with me. There are parts of him that remind me of myself, so I thought maybe we were similar in a way, i wanted us to grow deeper, but if God didn’t let us come together now, then there must be a reason.

I kept holding onto hope that maybe if I show more of myself, he’ll recognize that i am someone worth it, but will it be worth it in the end?

If a man doesn’t already see that I’m a romantic potential, then why should I hold onto hope that he’ll see me. He won’t see me. He won’t ever see me. He will never see or understand the value I hold. He cannot awaken it or inspire it. So why am I still holding on? Why do i keep checking to see his activity? He’s not doing the same, he’s not interested, he’s busy living his life, doing his thing. I’d be the last thing that’s on his mind.

I had this fear that I’d lose him because he’s so handsome. Some other girl will change his mind about staying single, but so what?

If I lose him, is it really a lost?

So what if he’s interested in another woman? He was never mine to begin with and it wouldn’t be right to get in the way of God’s fate, someone else’s destiny, of a Divinely orchestrated meeting of soulmates, that doesn’t involve me...

If we’re not meant to be together, it’s because he’s supposed to be with someone else................................................

I was mad that I couldn’t have him, I was mad at being rejected, but I saw how lowly those vibrations were. I didn’t want to feel like that and so I chose to see the higher picture. 

So what if he doesn’t become mine?

What is the true meaning of love anways?

What honors the name of love?

It’s certainly not forcing myself on him, trying to get him to be jealous, showing myself off, or doing anything with even a speckle of intent to change his mind. 

Pure intentions.

Always.

If you can’t be with someone, you have to accept rejection, understand why you’re triggered and angered, focus on yourself, and heal.

I kept telling myself I don’t want to feel this hate and anger just because of rejection, I need to be higher than this. I found that self-care DOES help. You’ll slowly start to see that your OWN PEACE is important. You can’t have everything that you want and respecting someone and their decision/rejection is the closest thing to loving them while also respecting yourself.

Why do we NEED someone in our life who we obsess over, but they don’t reciprocate? 

He doesn’t need to see more sides of me. It’s ok to lose him. It’s ok not to give him attention, it’s ok because what’s meant to be, will be.

I chose to be with myself in this misery, it’s ok. Self love is also being ok with the bad emotions and healing them in our own timing.

It’s all about putting the focus on oneself after rejection. 

You don’t need to know what he’s doing, you need to know how you’re doing. You don’t need to check up on him, check on yourself. Don’t give him attention, give yourself attention. 

It can be hard when there’s lots of “what ifs,” but, honey, no. If it’s been over a month or 2, and he still hasn’t SEEN you, your soul already, it’s not right.

Let it go, let him go, if someone else finds him, then he’s where he belongs. Don’t keep him from his fate. Don’t let him keep yourself from your own fate.

The longer we stay with someone, the longer we’re kept away from what actually is meant for us. So focus on you. So when you’re energy has changed for you, you’ll attract what’s right for you.

[merakiui]

Frostbite

yandere!childe x (gender neutral) reader art credit - GNSN_FA on twt cw: yandere, blood, minor gore (lacerations), unhealthy behaviors/relationship, mentions of death/hypothermia, fighting

It’s borderline animalistic, the way you cling to warmth and life like a starved, neglected hound. Your fingers stiffen in a vain attempt to flex��to successfully grasp your sword like a true warrior. The furs that were once draped over your body are ragged, torn to shreds from a dangerous battle between the elements and him. There’s no mistaking the excitement that lights his every nerve like bulbs hanging from a Christmas tree, coated in the maddening swell of potent bloodlust. If surrender was an option, you would have done it long ago.

Even then, you’re certain he wouldn’t give you such a benevolent chance no matter how hard you were to beg and plead.

Your breath materializes like a phantom in front of your face, a cruel reminder that you’re still breathing in a battered body. Your fingernails are chipped, blood running down the tips from an icy struggle, but you refuse to succumb to the cold. Instead, you allow yourself to be swept up in his electrified stare. 

“What’s the matter, comrade?” There’s a wry smile pulling his chapped lips apart, showcasing flawless teeth aligned in a perfect face. Despite the brutal wear of this current fight, he’s still handsome. And that makes you sick. “I thought you said you’ve gotten stronger. If I wanted a real battle, I would’ve challenged one of my subordinates and that’s nowhere near as fun as this!”

Keeled over in the snow, your lungs burning with each rattled inhale, you struggle to meet his eyes. The deathly chill of the Snezhnayan climate claws at your exhausted form like the porcelain fingers of a skeleton. You might as well surrender to the freezing temperatures. After all, the frostbite is far kinder than the fighting machine looming over you, the toe of his boot nudging your trembling self. 

“I... I am strong,” you manage to say before the dangerous wind pierces your throat like a dagger. Like the icicle Childe’s wielding, a happily convenient reaction between Hydro and Cryo elements. You cough and crimson paints the snow. “Strong. I’m strong.”

“Then get up.” There isn’t any warmth in his tone. Cold like ice and devoid of his former playfulness. Under all of that nonchalance, a fierce, chiseled warrior lies in comfortable wait. When his eyes trace your hunched form and he spots the blood that dribbles past your lips, practically freezing as soon as it makes contact with the frigid air, those dull hues widen. Surely he’s hit a weak spot, a vital organ or something close to a fatal blow. He wonders for a brief moment if you’re afraid of death. “You’ll freeze if you don’t move.”

A flash catches your attention and then there is the flow of suffocating water. Sharpened blades of ice surround you on all sides, nearly scraping your arms, so you force yourself onto unsteady legs. Internally, you’re searching for a way out—for a way to give up before you bite off more than you can chew. This sparring match wasn’t your request, but you had been a fool to accept, having been so certain of your strength and wit. But you aren’t accustomed to Snezhnaya, whereas Childe has spent years of his life here: training, learning, and fighting until he was worthy of the Tsaritsa’s praise. 

With sloppy movements, you cut through the ice as if it’s butter, eternally grateful for the sharpness of your trusty sword. You can’t tell when this fight will end, but you hope an opening with present itself. As soon as it does, you’re running as far as your frozen legs will take you. Like a feral beast who fights desperately against the unfair hands of the Grim Reaper, you stumble forwards, slashing blindly at your target. He’s thoroughly amused with your struggle, having seen this sort of desperation many times before on the battlefield.

It’s a depressing thing, knowing you’ll be destined for failure and yet you still push onwards. As if that will turn the tide of this battle in your favor. Childe almost admires your persistence, but it isn’t all that special. He’s seen it all before but not quite in the way you portray it. Your despair is far more delectable than that of any low-ranking Fatui soldier. Childe could bask in this for eternity and he’d never grow bored. To have you by his side as his punching bag—it excites him just a little too much. 

Naturally, the more he spars with you, the more he’ll grow accustomed to your attack and defense patterns. A strategy is only worthwhile if it rakes in victory. No matter the cost. No matter how many fall and grovel, begging for their pitiful lives. In a way, his moral compass is rather skewed. He supposes that makes him a bad person, but he’s never been one for the hero role. 

Childe taps your shoulder and you whirl, slicing upwards with your sword. The blade cuts the air, not the torso of the man who jumps back with such deadly precision. The expression he’s wearing haunts you: a wicked smile, pupils blown wide with the thrill of life and death, and a blooming bruise from where you managed to hit him in your earlier scuffle. In any form, he looks good, be it blue and purple, red and pale, or even frozen stiff by the very ice that reacts to his Hydro abilities. You can’t stand your weak heart, as you’re well aware of the face he’ll bear tomorrow. Friendly and disarming, a total opposite to the grinning madman twirling water-turned-ice blades like they’re circus batons. 

Like always, you’ll return his kindness because you’re a fool. Because you like the soft, wholesome Childe that cares lovingly for his family—the side he’s displayed in rare instances that glimmer beyond the gilded portrait of a battle-hardened soldier. 

You fall hard on your back, landing in the thick snow with a wheeze. There is no warmth on the battlefield. Only pain, suffering, and the certainty of death. You push yourself to get up, but your muscles won’t move, too heavy and sore. You know you’re strong—you’ve faced many opponents before and you’ve lived to boast of your successes. You can beat Childe. You have to if you intend to avoid fights with him in the future. 

“Well, this is upsetting.” He’s frowning now, idly tapping the crystalized water while he circles you like a sharp-toothed predator. “Didn’t expect this to end so quickly.”

Liar. You already know I can’t beat you, you want to say, but the words escape you. Not yet, anyways.

A sneer splits your dry lips and blood trickles down your chin like a woeful river. You don’t need a mirror to witness the damage. 

“Teucer won’t like this,” you say, staring up at Childe with dead eyes, hoping to prod at his weak spots. If the mention of his brother affects him, Childe doesn’t let it show.

“He doesn’t have to know,” he retorts, brushing aside such a possibility with ease. 

Right. Because you expect me to put myself back together like a toy. Of course, almighty Childe, the greatest toy salesman in all of Snezhnaya. 

“Well.” You pause to exhale and pain shoots through your side. Through your bleary gaze, you can see a deep laceration. Blood stains what’s left of your attire, and you move your rigid hands over the wound to prevent anymore blood loss. “Congrats. You won.”

“You’re giving up?” Bewilderment flashes across his face for an instant before it melts away into an emotion you can’t place. Anger? Sadness? Is he unhappy with this win? 

“What does it look like? I can’t possibly fight with these injuries.” 

It hurts to speak and you wish he would just stop. If he could accept the outcome of this battle, this wouldn’t be such a problem. You’d be able to patch and heal yourself up before your condition gets any worse. With the chill seeping into your open cut, harshly kissing slick, wet blood, you doubt you’ll make it inside before passing out. Vaguely, you recall the unfamiliar stages of hypothermia. At worst, if you stay out in this fatal weather, pinned like an entomologist’s butterfly under Childe’s monstrous gaze, you’ll freeze to death. At best, you’ll escape, build a fire, and warm up to the best of your ability. Weighing your options, you’d rather lose a finger or a toe as opposed to your life. 

“You can fight.” His blade is at your throat, the pointed tip niggling into your jugular. It’s more of a threat than a warning, a means to spur you into action. “You’ll never get stronger if you’re always running away, comrade.”

Your life has some value; Childe just can’t see that. In his eyes, a fight should be seen through to the very end, even if it’s marred in death and destruction. Yet here you are, choosing to abandon your pride. That must have some strength in itself, right? You hate his face, his childish nature, and the fact that his everything is making you reconsider. You’re doomed to fail if you continue to push your frostbitten body past its natural limits. 

“I...” The blade slices along your throat, a mere surface wound. You can’t feel the sting or the sticky blood that spills out like flowing tears, having become as numb as a fish-eyed animal near extinction. “Childe��“

You don’t want to hurt him and he knows this. It twists his insides like a knife in flesh, turning and turning until organs pop and leak into soupy conflict. The blade leaves your throat and another harsh wind blows between the two of you, glacial and prickling. He distances himself, tracking your form in case you happen to move. You’ve stopped shivering at this point, lying flat on your back and staring up at the dark sky. Snowflakes cling to your lashes like the hands of death, pulling you closer to an invisible grave. 

“You can fight.” Is that desperation in his voice? You almost laugh at the idea. He’s not a desperate man; he doesn’t need to be when he has it all. “Get up, comrade.”

“I think...I’ll stay here,” you whisper, your heartbeat irregularly slow. You’ve never counted the beats before, but now it makes for a fun distraction. “Good job, Childe. You’ve definitely...”

Gotten stronger.

You possess strength, just not the type Childe wants to experience firsthand. He has no use for a lonely, unseeing corpse. And when your eyelids flutter, closing upon a face that reflects frozen death, he releases a sigh. His blade falls at once, landing in the snow with a thump, and he bends down to gather your fallen frame in his arms. Somehow, whenever he spars with you—whenever he’s within touching distance—he feels alive. As if you’ve breathed meaning into his frostbitten soul, warming the cold beast that lurks and pounces at the sight and smell of fresh bloodshed. 

If he’s learned anything, it’s that there’s always going to be room for improvement. You just need to train more, and he’d be over the moon to fight you until it’s your blade slicing through his skin. In the meantime, though, he’ll have to kiss color and life back into your monochrome world of death and despair. 

As the greatest toy salesman in all of Snezhnaya, it’s only fair if he repairs the damages done to his favorite toy. Break, repair, and repeat. A cycle befitting a messy relationship and an even messier slew of choices. Rinse and repeat, like waves licking up a carcass bound to the shore. 

Come morning, you’ll be shiny and new, ready to sit by his side for another leisurely ice-fishing outing. Childe isn’t known as the greatest toy salesman for nothing, and you’re just barely scraping by with each battle scar and bandage—courtesy of such an illustrious, experimental toy salesman. 

[hana]

*sigh* i’m blogging

do you remember that tweet from 2020, or maybe 2016, that was like 

“i don’t know how to explain to you that you should care about other people”

? i feel like’ve ricocheted off of an attempt to explain why one should care about others every 6 months, my entire adult life.

my pattern of approach has been to try reading some ethics text or another for a few weeks, with growing embarrassment about my search for a concrete answer to something that i should just fucking get (as a human, because it’s not something that needs to be proven to be done), until i finally surrender theory for a direct-action nonanswer like buying groceries for old people. 

it’s honestly not hard to get it and just do it. i’m sure this feeling is part of why some people do crazy shit like eat vegan, volunteer at hospice facilities, or go to med school to work in the baby ER. i think leaving it unexplored is fine, possibly even better than fine, because it would really suck to discover something that puts you off altruism. but, like, how can one resist thinking about it?

personally, my “reaching” of “maturity” has been the result of haphazardly staking out social and ethical boundaries that align with “values” i’ve found, inherited, or inherited but thought i found (secret third type). when i demonstrated to myself that i could pick them up and move them with me, throughout different social contexts, like a crinoline defining the shape of my character, i actually did feel quite mature. but i’m actually hugely naive and toddler-like in almost every way, even those in which i feel accomplished.

i’m kinda old-ish now (some scoff, some nod as if i am brave), and i’m not so easily embarrassed by myself any more, which is the first blush of boomer ruin, so i was thinking i could write about what i think, as i think it, publicly, on the internet. it sounds fucking insane as i type it.

although i loved reading smart adult’s blogs in the early 2000s, it is my firm opinion that nobody should ever post. horrifyingly, some of my smartest friends do it now. if it’s my fate now, as an adult, to debase myself, why not do it up?

i’m tagging everything i post with #longspoon, so i can: a) easily delete it all when i get embarrassed or cancelled; b) (with hubris) tag it all for RSS; c) (hubris fading to trepidation) keep this blog organized if i ever post other types of things.

why “long spoon”?

before i explain this, i want to just say 2 things. 

that i don’t buy “heaven” or “hell” as scenarios. i believe only hell is real, we are all living in it right now, and it’s actually not as bad as you hear (but it still sucks a lot).

that this will not be brief so take a bathroom break now.

ok, that said: the long spoon thing is an allegory/parable/nugget of story-wisdom in many cultures around the world. see this chicago tribune headline:

not the onion.

there isn’t a single parable-form telling of it online that doesn’t reek of clinically uncool self-help language. here’s my version:

basically, imagine a banquet table laid with the most succulent soup-feast imaginable. we’re talking stew, soup dumplings, matzo ball soup, pot pie filling, everything good and hot you can eat with a spoon. but the people seated at this banquet are gaunt and starving. they are unable to eat the soup, because the spoons they’ve been given are too long to reach to their own mouths. 

here you might ask, “why not simply choke up on the spoon handle so it functions as a shorter one?” shut up, and get out of my temple, that’s why! for some reason they cannot do that. neither can they reach the soup with their bare hands, or faces. maybe they get a few bites that way, but it doesn’t really work to nourish them. 

“but why do they have these impractical spoons?” here is the moment where jesus or buddha or lord siddhartha twists his nasty little face into a grinch smile because you’ve asked him just the question he was hoping for. the spoons are not supposed to be used for feeding oneself. they aren’t meant to be used that way. in the 90s, don norman would have passed by and pointed out that the spoon’s long handle is clearly an affordance which telegraphs its purpose*. (nowadays he is either cancelled or explaining that it is actually called a signifier and an affordance is something else, thus justifying his book’s sustained $30 price tag.)

the guests at this banquet are too fucking selfish and hangry to read affordances. they do not understand that they are meant to use their long-handled spoons to feed the person across the table from them, who in turn is meant to feed them. i don’t think anyone is seated at the head or foot of the table. if so, they have extra special long spoon handles which are arched in some manner. this is not a fun banquet.

sometimes, in the parable version, the prophet and the idiot do a drive-by of a similar banquet where everyone’s actually having a great time and eating their fill because they figured out how to use the spoons. obviously that’s meant to be heaven, the one i described above is hell, and bill engvall goes “here’s your sign.”

for our purposes, we’re gonna stay away from that. i don’t think the heavenly version of the banquet exists. it’s more an architectural rendering of how a long-utensil-style banquet could potentially work, given enough budget. 

i am naming these posts after the long spoon because, although i endeavor to pick the long spoon up and carry a precarious sip of soup to the lips of my fellow man, i recognize that in my human condition i am probably too stupid to use it right. i think about this often, and i wish to think about it more deeply, so i will write to pursue that wish. 

[sebbysheepie]

Reading your arguments with certain vegans (and in my own experience) it almost has a similar feel to trying to argue politics with some of my religious relatives. Like they just can’t accept that people might fundamentally disagree with the way they see the world. I DON’T think it’s unethical or cruel in any way to kill animals for food, as long as proper care is taken. I’m not looking at it as a necessary evil I’m not disciplined enough to give up, I’m looking at it as someone who views humans as part of a food chain. And I feel like people arguing it never seem to get that others can disagree with their basic assertion that consuming animals is Bad?

I like that. Political, I always liken this to religion myself.

Ill speak from my own point only. While I myself have never known hunger I was raised in a family that did know it. The great potato famine. The home children. Slavery. This was a topic we grew up on. Food is life. Food is the most important thing. Food means living another day. My great grandparents had known so much hunger. They knew abuse. They had been treated as slaves and lived in the barn where animals had been treated better then they where because the animals where worth more. Could always get another home child. Couldn’t get another chicken or cow as easily. So you treated those animals well.

Growing up this meant that you ensured the best of health for your animals and they never knew pain or suffering. But when it was time for the to be part of the food chain they where eaten. A big farm means you can provide for more people. As we all had big families. That means alot of food needed. Your neighbour had a bad year? You could give him food to see him threw. When the depression hit. Food was given out in droves by the farm because we had it. And there was no hoarding because hungry people lose empathy and values when the belly aches or your children cry. If you knew you would get food from them you wouldn’t be as inclined to steal. Nor did my family want that. I’m more flustered these days with all the rules and regulations on giving food away. It feels the government would rather people starve over getting uninspected meat. We are not saying the butcher didn’t do the work and check it over. No. We just can’t give it out because the government inspector is too busy to come to such a rural area over for one load of donated beef. That’s better to just go to the garbage. It makes me so mad. I don’t believe in waste. I don’t believe in a wasted life. The animal gave its life to feed people and I work very hard to ensure nothing goes to waste from that.

Again this is me. You are going to find farmers that do it because that’s how it’s done. Not that they are bad people. They just don’t have a connection to animals other then food. There’s no harm or abuse, just no extras. You’ll find those that go above and belong what I do. And that’s fine too! If you want to find homes for all older animals. Or give to a sanctuary then by all means go for it! I sell animals and use that money to return back to the farm and give back to the animal there. The sale of an older cow may pay for the vet bill of the calves with health issues giving them years more life. Some pass away on the farm and are buried there, some chickens I eat. And some just go in their sleep. You never know how your going to go, I just want to make sure that my body is of some use to ensure someone else’s survival.

[tempestsreach-blog]

Fuck Diet Culture

This is going to be long.  It’s going to be rambly.  It’s going to be sad.  It’s going to be angry.  There’s going to be language some people don’t like. I can’t NOT talk about it though. 

Fuck diet culture.  Let me say that again.  Fuck. Diet. Culture. It has taken such a huge chunk out of my life.  I have lost pieces of myself I’m not sure I’ll ever get back.  The only way to heal is to go through.  I can’t go back.  I have to move forward.  But I can’t do it quietly.  I can’t hide.  I can’t live in the same shame I’ve spent the last 40 years in.  Literally.  40 years of my life wasted to this.  I can’t bear to live the back half of my life in the same way.  What the hell is the point? I’m not going to write this in any particular order because all of the thoughts and feelings swimming around are snapshots of things in my life that diet culture has broken in me or stolen from me. A lot of you aren’t going to agree with me.  That’s okay.  Truly.  This is about ME.  This is to help ME heal.  You can talk to me about your struggles, your diets, your ups and downs, your successes and whatnot.  I am here for you in all of it. But I won’t diet with you anymore.  Never again.

Currently I am having severe knee pain.  One knee is worse than the other, but both are bad.  I should go to the doctor.  I should have gone to the doctor years ago for it.  Want to know why I didn’t?  My weight.  I have injuries from overuse and over exercise and I am terrified that I am going to go to the doctor and the first words they’re going to say are “Well, if you lost 20, 30, 40, 50 pounds, it probably wouldn’t hurt so much.” instead of listening to me, examining me, scanning my knees and HELPING me.  I don’t feel this way irrationally.  This shit happens.  I am in pain.  I don’t know how to get help without being told to go on another diet that will not work.

Because diets don’t work.  Not long term.  I am excellent at losing weight!  I’ve done it over and over and over.  Then I stop restricting, counting, starving, and pushing myself.  Then my body says “What the fuck were you doing?” and puts it back. I lost the ability years ago to know whether I’m actually hungry or not.  I eat too fast when I do eat because if I snarf it down super fast I can get it in before my brain says “You’ve had too much.  Did you count those calories?  How many miles on a treadmill will you do to make up for that?  Did you actually earn this meal?”

Every time.  Every meal.  Every morsel.

I have never been officially diagnosed with an eating disorder.  Only been told by therapists and psychiatrists that I definitely engage in disordered eating.

No shit.

Every diet under the sun.  Cabbage soup.  Phen Fen.  Weight watchers (MULTIPLE TIMES), TOPS, Noom, My Fitness Pal calorie counting, intermittent fasting,  and every whacky bullshit thing in between promising results.  I’ve purchased fancy scales.  I’ve even tried one that wouldn’t show you your weight, but the color of your progress in the app.  Here’s a hint… if you gain, your color is black like death.  I’ve failed a million times and I’ve blamed myself.  I am the failure.  So I hate my body a little more every day and I stress about how I’m going to NOT pass my disordered eating and my food issues onto my kids.  My stress levels are through the roof and 98% of it is diet culture related. What the fuck is that about? Every time I start a program I hit it hard.  Last time I tried anything involving tracking or counting I was so starving by the time I got home from work that I almost ripped a child’s head off (not literally OBVIOUSLY) but I screamed at her at the top of my lungs because she hurt my feelings.  It wasn’t until after finally allowing myself to eat another morsel of food that I realized I was hangry.

Why is living in a larger body not acceptable?  We all talk about diversity and equality as though we believe it with our whole hearts, but that doesn’t cross over to fat.  Or skinny if we’re really being honest.  How many times have you heard or seen online “Oh my god, she’s so skinny.  Feed her a damn cheeseburger!  She looks anorexic.”  I know I have.  I know I’ve said those words.  I will punch myself in the gut if I ever say them again.  

Every body is different.  We are supposed to be.  Let’s not BLAME genetics like it’s a bad thing.  Let’s realize that it’s what nature has intended.  My father is over 6 feet tall and a large man.  He’s just a big man.  He went on Nutri System when I was young, lost a ton of weight, and put a bunch back on over the years because he is a big man.  My mother was not tall, but was always large.  I hated her body because HER PARENTS told her all the time she was fat and unworthy and cautioned me not to grow up to be like her in any way.  Even when she was poor and homeless she was still large.  That was the way her body was.  I wonder how different her life might have been if the size of her body hadn’t been a factor in the way she was raised or treated.  How might that have made my life different?

I know a lot of you are probably rolling your eyes at me right now about being vocal about another health plan or saying to yourself “just because you have trouble with diets doesn’t mean they don’t work”  I know there are people close to me thinking “She just always gets excited when she discovers a new diet, that’s probably what this is.”  NO.  

This is me finally realizing that I can heal and healing doesn’t mean I need to weigh 157 pounds. (That’s the weight limit for women my height to enter the air force when I did in 1992) This is me finally realizing that I’ve been lying about the weight on my drivers license for 30 years because gods forbid anyone saw my real weight on that document. This is me realizing that I’ve spent my life trying to live up to other people’s ideals of what I should look like because I assumed they wouldn’t like me otherwise. This is me realizing how much unintentional harm I could have been doing when sharing another diet, another idea, another bout of “well this is working really well for me!” with people I care about. This is me realizing how much damage I’ve been doing to myself living with this level of shame for 40 years. Hiding what I’m doing.  Suffering in silence.  Hiding food. Restricting.  Binging.  Over exercising to compensate.  Spending money on one last diet.  Spending emotional energy on one last hope. We were in Las Vegas for what was supposed to be a fun vacation last week and I was so hot and miserable and so steeped in hating my body because my painful knees were betraying me that my internal monologue was a never ending loop of “I’ll hit weight watchers REALLY HARD when we get home and get rid of this weight, then I’ll figure out my knees and work on maintenance” Let me say that again, clearly.  I struggled to enjoy my vacation because I was obsessing about restricting food AFTER my vacation. One last time.  One last meal.

BULLSHIT.

We walked by shops with weird and pretty fashion dresses. (I freely admit I don’t understand fashion) the husband and I would both point out ones we thought were pretty.  My brain would get stuck on “Yeah, but they don’t make them in my size” or “Yeah, that would NOT look good on me.  It looks fine on that size 0 mannequin”  Pretty on other people.  Other people are pretty.  Not me. Diet culture is pervasive and all consuming.  In big ways and little ways.  I’m 5 ft 9.  I’m not a tiny person at any weight.  I’ve always been told I’m too big.  Even when I sit, I slouch a little and/or tuck my legs and feet up under me to try to make myself appear smaller and less invasive.  This is subconscious.  I don’t always realize I’m doing it until my knees remind me. Most of my life has been things that get in the way of my diets.  “I should start the diet today, but it’ll have to wait until next week because so and so’s birthday is this week and I want to be able to enjoy that.”  or “It’s late fall, I should just start now but first there’s my birthday, and then Thanksgiving, and December happens and there’s all kinds of treats then.  Better wait until January, but not the first because that’s new year’s...maybe the following Monday.” or the ever popular “I already had a bad eating day today, I’m a failure.  Why bother?  Fuck it.  I’ll try again tomorrow.”  That one was always followed by binging because of the last supper mentality.  If I’m starting a diet tomorrow I better eat EVERYTHING NOW. This is how I’ve lived my whole life.  The time not spent dieting was just the time in between diets where I was planning my next diet.  So much life wasted.  The only time I was not actively dieting or planning the next diet or suffering from “I’m just too exhausting to put effort into food right now” was during my 4 pregnancies.  I let myself eat whatever and whenever because I was nauseous all the time anyway and something in my brain made me fuel my body for the babies. When the youngest was born and the on call doctor who delivered her told me I was too fat to have my tubes tied I definitely started planning diets again in that moment.  I believe now, years later, that my diet and diet culture ruined mind and body is part of what kept me from being as successful at nursing the kids as I wished I had been.  I assumed my body was broken and not good enough for my babies.  The last time I lost a LOT of weight it was because I didn’t want to ruin someone’s wedding pictures.  True story.  This was nothing that person felt or anything they told me.  IT’s what my brain said to me.  It’s how I de-valued myself.  There are very few current pictures of me now because I’ve been stuck in a place where I feel shame when I see them. When I’m dead, memories and pictures are all my kids and grandkids will have, and I hate myself too much to let anyone take them. That’s not okay.

I dream about food.  I daydream about food.  Food I “shouldn’t” eat.  Food I “should” eat.  When to eat.  When not to eat.  Every spare ounce of energy is spent thinking about food or hating myself which leads to more thinking about food. I am not in a place where I can prepare dinner for my family right now because it’s too hard to put that much energy into food.  I force myself to pick the recipes from the app and get the shopping done via instacart so all anyone else has to do is pull up the recipe and make the food.  If I’m looking at the ingredients or trying to prep anything I stare at every individual thing debating whether or not I “should” eat it.  This is going to take me a long time to break free from.  Today I finally feel like I CAN break free. There is nothing wrong with being in a large body or a small body.  Food is not good or bad.  Food is food.  I have to say these things.  I have to repeat them to myself or I fall down the rabbit hole again.  None of this is work anyone can do for me.  I have to live it.  I have to work through it.  I have to figure it out. If you read this far, my statement stands.  If you’re on a diet, I will listen to your woes and hold your hand and I will not judge you for it.  This was very hard to write because I am certain some of you who believe in diets, ways of life, and wellness eating may block me now because I spoke my mind.  I’ve clung so tight to the people I love and refrained from being honest and speaking my mind for fear of abandonment.  I’ll have to live with it if that’s the case here, because people sometimes need to do what’s best for them.  Airing this out is one of those things for me.  It’s a scary thing for sure. I also want to say that I’m happy for this to lead to discussion.  I’m not going to shut anyone down for wanting to talk to me about this.  I am always open to learn new information and see different perspectives.  Just know that if I’m emotional and feeling a lot of strong things about how my life has been up to this point, and I am entitled to believe what I believe just as you all are.  I’m happy to share sources and books I’ve been reading on the subject.  They are not diet books.

Here’s to doing better from here on out.

Here’s to finally being free.

[vague-and-aloof]

GETTING TO KNOW YOU CHAPTER 3 - SNEAK PEEK

Well, I promised you guys a sneak peek of the next chapter, and here it is! Hope you’ll like it!

———

Mistoffelees had never invited another cat home before, not even as a kitten. When he started going to school his father had already started to tell him that magic scared other cats and this had resulted in him not even trying to make friends or get too close to other cats. So asking any of his classmates if they wanted to come with him to play at his house was never an option. So he wasn't quite sure what to do as he led Tugger into his house, unlocking the door to find the house empty.

"Looks like father isn't home yet." He said as he shrugged off his jacket and hung it on the coat hanger and toed off his shoes. "And Victoria was going to be with Plato after school, so we have the house to ourselves."

"Lucky us." Tugger said a little vaguely as he shrugged off his leather jacket and hung it next to Mistoffelees' before taking another good long look at the hallway with wide eyes. "Wow, this place is nice. Like, really, really nice." He turned back to Mistoffelees, kicked off his boots before placing them by the other shoes. "Your dad must be seriously loaded if you can afford living in a damn mansion! I mean, my dad's pretty well-off too, but not like this."

Mistoffelees smirked cheekily and shrugged. "I don't know if I'd call it a mansion, but yeah, I suppose it is a pretty nice house."

Tugger whirled around and stared at him, very much like how Plato had stared at Victoria the first time he had come by their house. "Pretty nice? Understatement of the decade! When you said that your dad makes millions of pounds a year, I thought you were exaggerating."

Laughing softly, Mistoffelees shook his head and started to lead Tugger further into the house. "Well, in a way I suppose I was and wasn't. Father comes from a very wealthy family, so he already had a big sum of money to his name. But he also owns a lot of very popular and upscale clubs in the city, which makes him a lot of money every year. A big sum of that money goes back into his clubs, in order to keep making those big sums of money. But he still gets to keep-" He paused to think for a moment. "Hm, I believe about 50 percent of it. So if he makes 5 million pounds in one year, he still gets to keep 2.5 million."

Tugger's jaw looked like it was close to falling off his face as he stared at Mistoffelees. Then he blinked and started to quietly mumble under his breath and counted on his fingers, then his eyes widened. "Dude, that's still 200 000 pounds a month! What the hell does he even do with that much money? Your bills can't be that much!"

Laughing again, Mistoffelees held up his paw and started counting on his fingers. "Cleaning staff, personal chef, tuition and school related costs, top of the line dancing gear and instructors for me and Victoria, his own personal parties... food." Mistoffelees sighed and shook his head exasperatedly. "Lots and lots of food. It's all very good food, the best he can find, but it's all a bit much. Especially since Victoria and I don't eat anywhere near as much as he does."

He shook his head and rolled his eyes, muttering under his breath. "There are cats starving in Africa and here we are, buying enough food to feed an entire army for months every week. It's sad, really." Then he shook his head again and turned back to Tugger with a small smile.

"And of course he gives me and Tori an allowance every month. But he only gives us a small amount, I don't think he's ever given us more than a hundred pounds each. He says he has no problem paying for school and the things we need or make us happy, but he doesn't want us to rely on him for everything. He values hard work and working for your success and doesn't want to spoil us to the point where we expect him to hand us everything in life."

Tugger nodded and tilted his head to the side. "Hm, that's pretty smart. Don't want to spoil your kids so they end up like Amaryl."

This made Mistoffelees laugh and he covered his mouth with his paw. "No, you really don't." He took a deep breath and licked his lips. "My father and I have different views on a lot of things, but I respect that he has always wanted to teach us the value of hard work and encouraged us to find our own success rather than lean on his wealth."

They entered the dining room and Mistoffelees placed his bag in one of the chairs, prompting Tugger to do the same. "Let's sit in here. It's the most comfortable place to do homework in."

Mistoffelees, still very unsure of what to do, remembered how his father usually treated his guests when he invited his friends over and made his way towards the kitchen. "Can I get you anything, by the way? Water, tea, coffee?"

Tugger grinned widely. "Yeah, can I have some fur dye in my coffee?" Both of them started laughing for a good long minute before calming down.

"Well, I don't think we have any fur dye in the house at the moment, unfortunately, but I can go and get some of my father's fur tonic if that's alright." This got them laughing again before Mistoffelees waved at him to come with him into the kitchen.

"It's probably best that you make your own coffee, so you can pick what you want for yourself."

Their coffee machine was very nice, made out of metal and black plastic with a touch display showing several different kinds of coffee you could have. From regular coffee, espresso, cappuccino, latte and much more. The Deuteronomys' had a similar one back at home, but the one they had could only make coffee, espresso and cappuccino. Tugger tended to make two cappuccinos at once in a big cup, which was fairly similar to a latte but not quite the same. This was a bit more luxurious, that was for sure.

He looked up at Mistoffelees, who was rummaging around in a cupboard for tea bags. "I thought you said you weren't a big coffee person."

Mistoffelees paused in his rummaging to turn and look at Tugger, one eyebrow raised and his mouth a straight line. "Oh, yeah you're right, I'm not. I suppose we really should just get rid of it then, since there's no one else in this house who likes to drink coffee." He turned back to the cupboard and took out a box with tea with a long, exaggerated sigh. "Oh, what a waste of two thousand pounds."

At first Tugger smirked and turned back to the display, but then his words registered in his brain and he whirled around to stare at Mistoffelees. "Your dad bought a coffee machine for two thousand pounds?!"

Groaning loudly, Mistoffelees turned around to Tugger with a large tea mug in his paw which he placed on the counter before filling it with hot water. "Yes, that was my reaction too. I couldn't believe that he'd spent that much money on a coffee machine when there are so many others out there at a much more reasonable price. But he and Victoria both really love coffee so they wanted the best they could find." He poured a little milk into his tea and then turned back to Tugger. "Me, I'm fine with just sticking with tea and the occasional cup of coffee. Never saw the appeal in it and I still don't."

Tugger kept staring at him for a good long minute before he finally blinked and turned back to the coffee machine, shaking his head and grumbling under his breath. "The life of the one percent." Which prompted a small chuckle from Mistoffelees.

His own family was far from poor, they were limited to one income since it was only their dad working to support them all. Munkustrap had a part-time job at a bookstore and was able to pay for some of his things himself and though Tugger had tried to find a job too, he'd had no luck yet. So while they did have money, they did not have this much money that they could throw on a coffee machine.

"The day I become rich," He said, accepting a mug from Mistoffelees and pressed on the screen to make himself a latte. "I am going to buy myself a house like this and fill it with all of the expensive stuff, just because I can. And I'll commission huge paintings of myself that'll hang all over the damn house! Screw all of that typical rich-cat facade, I'll have five rooms with instruments, video games, an actual movie theatre in the living room and a damn bowling alley in the basement."

Mistoffelees snorted and shook his head. "You act as though there aren't rich cats out there in the world who have all those things."

@uppastthejelliclemoon @soh-da-meatball @storyweaverofgondor @whitmerule @demandra @i-overanalyze-musicals @rainbowratsstuff @rainbow-donkey @tigerstripes-and-leopardspots @tigertail94 @roxycake @roselessart

[getlitaesthetic]

I’m interested to see what the brothers would be like if they had a child (probably with the mc purposely or accidentally) and the fucked up family dynamics that would come of it, like would they full on discard the child? Raise them to be just like their dad? I wouldn’t be surprised if Beel pulled a full on Kronos from Greek mythology

Also asked by an anon: “What if mc somehow got pregnant? How would the brothers be towards them during their pregnancy and how will they deal with the child?”

(Undateables version found Here)

Lucifer

It is on purpose, and Lucifer is the most excited to be having a child.

Will carefully monitor MC’s diet, exercise, leisure activities, everything they do to an extent far surpassing anything he’s done before.

He becomes obsessed with the child’s health.

Not that that stops him from injuring MC, but now he’s very careful with what he does to avoid any harm coming to his child. After all, they can’t get comfortable here.

When the child is finally born, it’s immediately taken from MC.

“I can’t have you passing on your weakness to my daughter, can I?”

He names her Lilith. It was always going to be Lilith.

Lucifer is a loving father, and abusive partner. MC only gets to see Lilith as a prize for a job well done. They become the most well-behaved human in the realm for a chance to see their child. It is such a rare occurrence, their daughter rarely remembers them.

He teaches Lilith to be a true demon, despite their half human nature. Raises them into the Devildom and is a careful protector to ensure that no corrupting influences touch her but his own.

Eventually, Lilith is ready.

MC is so excited to see their daughter, as soon as she enters the room, she’s swept into a big hug. 

MC gasps, and gurgles as they choke on their own blood, Lilith giggling in their arms. 

“Did I do a good job, Daddy?”

“You did perfectly, Princess.”

Mammon

This was definitely an accident

Not only was it an accident, but he may or may not have freaked out a little bit.

“Do you KNOW how expensive children are?”

But then he realizes that everything has a value.

So he sucks it up, and helps MC get through the pregnancy unscathed... Although he may or may not have chained them to the wall so they didn’t get into trouble while he was handling business.

When the boy is born, Mammon doesn’t bother to name him. He leaves MC to take care of the child. They name him Najjad, and dedicate all of their time to raising him to be happy, and healthy, and as human as possible.

He is a handsome child, born with a head of pale white hair, and MC’s eyes. Skin smooth and unblemished, with an easy, happy smile. They love him. They would do anything for Mammon in order to continue being allowed to raise their son.

But the fantasy is short lived.

Mammon quickly grows tired of MC’s time being split between him and the boy, growing greedy once again for their full attention. 

It isn’t long before he has lined up a buyer. It is only days after that that, without warning, Najjad is taken from his parent’s arms, and delivered to a shady demon willing to pay a pretty penny for the offspring of one of the Avatars.

“Finally! About time I got you to myself again, eh?”

Leviathan

This was long since planned. It was only a matter of time before one of his brothers had a child, and Levi wanted one first. Maybe it was the envy in him. Okay, okay. Probably it was the envy in him.

MC is already locked in his room, so it’s easy to hide the pregnancy, just in case something happens. After all, the last thing he wants is for his brothers to know it was a race, and then for him to lose.

Or worse, for one of his brothers to hurt MC while they were still pregnant.

Levi forces MC to do a lot of floating during the pregnancy, and to have a water birth.

However, he is less careful than most of the others. Constantly forgetting to be gentle, always pushing and grabbing MC a little too hard.

Still, the baby boy is born healthy. He doesn’t look quite human, even at birth. Long ragged gills cut sharp lines along his throat, and his eyes are slit. A long black tail extends from his spine, with a fin on the end. The rest of him looks human enough.

Leviathan eventually settles on the name Mizuko. MC is not given the chance to disagree.

MC is still not allowed to leave the room, but is given ample time with their son, helping to raise him, as long as they follow Levi’s strict instructions. He often takes Mizuko away for significant periods of time, disappearing along with him. MC can only imagine they are in the Devildom’s waterways, their son learning skills they’d rather him not know.

Oh, but how good to be alive, and a parent. Even if they were chained to this room, to the torture of being Levi’s plaything. Mizuko makes the whole thing so much more bearable. In fact, they consider trying to get Levi to have another, if only so that they may have a chance to always have one at home.

“I did it, MC! I won! I wonder what Lucifer will have to say about that.”

Satan

A pregnancy with Satan was planned, and actually suggested by MC.

They wanted to show their devotion to him, still so unaware of how he had manipulated every aspect of their life.

He seems so excited when MC tells them that it’s happened, they’re pregnant.

He treats them so sweetly throughout their pregnancy, but continues drugging, manipulating, and casting spells on them without their knowledge and without regard to their child.

It is only luck that none of them hurt their baby.

MC gives birth to a beautiful daughter, who will grow to have soft blonde ringlets and beautiful blue eyes, just like her father. She glows softly. 

Satan and MC agreed to the name Ismene for a girl early in the pregnancy, and once she arrived, it seemed just perfect. 

She grows to be smart as a whip, but cruel. Satan is so proud. MC begins to realize they don’t know everything about their husband after all.

They sit in the garden, Ismene practicing a spell to set a flower ablaze. MC tries to frown, to scold her, but their face does not budge.

“How lovely,” they hear themselves say, as if far away. “Our little girl is growing so quickly.”

Satan kissed their forehead and knelt in front of their daughter.

“Remember, you have to want it to die, with all of the rage in your heart,” he instructs her.

She smiles, looking at MC as the flower begins to burn.

Asmodeus

A child with Asmodeus is unplanned, but not unexpected.

With all of the unprotected sex he has with MC, and how frequently? It was only a shock it took so long.

Besides, MC no longer had the brain capacity to agree or plan anything. All they wanted was more of their demon master, filling them up, using them, making them worth something.

What could possibly fill them more than a child?

Asmo thinks it’s adorable, to watch MC’s stomach grow as they lay there, mindless and drooling. Desperate for anything Lust could offer.

It does not affect his daily routine in the slightest. He continues to use and abuse MC as he sees fit whenever he desires, and still disappears for weeks at a time, leaving MC’s health up to whatever brother happens to remember to feed them.

They give birth alone, confused as to why they are in pain and what is happening.

When Asmo returns, he leaves MC in their pain and filth, taking the baby girl away to clean her up and dress in lovely silks.

He names her Bellerose Fayre, and is the only one of the brothers to give his child a middle name.

She is perfect, and would pass for human if it wasn’t for her long, winding tail that reaches and grasps with it’s velvety texture, pulling in anything it can touch.

What happens next is... incredibly disturbing, to say the least. If you are particularly sensitive, I would recommend skipping to Beelzebub.

Asmo is inseparable from his daughter. Always keeping her dressed in beautiful clothing and teaching her everything he knows. Bellerose is a very quick study. It isn’t long at all before she has fully tapped into her father’s power and begins to work at his side, seducing souls to Hell. Only a child. 

How MC would have died to stop it if they could have. But they remained in that room, no mind left to care.

“Good job, Rosie! Another worthless wretch condemned to the pits. You’re a natural!”

Beelzebub

Unplanned. Unplanned. So unplanned.

Anon, you are unfortunately quite correct.

Beelzebub can smell it on MC before they even know. He had been holding back on feasting, saving them for a special occasion. 

But now that they were pregnant? Their blood, their body, all of it was extra nutritious as it prepared to build his child.

He waits, for a while. Staying far away so as not to be tempted, despite MC’s desperate attempts to get him involved.

The day comes for the gender reveal.

A boy.

Since Beel refuses to be involved, MC picks out the name. Akuji. 

It’s an apt name. 

MC returns that day to attempt to tell Beel the news, only to be met by the lumbering form of the starved man that strikes fear into their heart. They eat MC whole, and their child with them.

But that isn’t the end. Awake. Akuji screams from inside MC, inside Beel. Tiny claws begin to scratch and dig.

Eventually, his son rips through his stomach and into the world, severely underdeveloped. Time would take care of that. The boy had curled hands with bloody claws, blindingly violet eyes, and the concave stomach of his father. He would eventually grow fly wings and a head of MC’s hair, but he would never gain a full human form.

Beel tried several times over the years to eat his son, to no avail. Every time, he would just have to sew up his stomach and continue on his endless stalk for sustenence.

Belphegor

A child with Belphie is so unplanned that he doesn’t even know about it until a thousand years after they are born.

He had trapped MC in his lair for his nap, but his grip had loosened in his dreaming, and while they remained locked in the room, at least they could roam. Food was stockpiled to hide from his twin brother, which MC subsisted on.

They had become pregnant after a slow, elongated night of fucking with Belphie as he gained their favor to get them where they were now. And they had no way to tell him without ensuring their own death in the process.

So MC coached themselves through the pregnancy, always careful not to wake Belphegor.

It was a close call during the birth, as he huffed and stirred, but MC bit down on their own arm to shut themselves up.

When their son was born, he looked perfectly human. Blinking slowly up at their parent. MC fed him only once, and whispered his name to him before he drifted to sleep. 

Eventually, the food ran out. Their son did not wake, no matter how they tried. MC sobbed quietly at their loss, as surely he was dead. Starved and exhausted, they laid down to die.

Hundreds of years passed. In his sleep, the child grew, gaining more demonic features. Growing longer, sharper. Lithe wings extending from his back and sharp teeth appearing past his lips.

Their dreams began to intertwine, the boy learning so much from the Avatar of Sloth’s thoughts.

Finally, Belphie awoke, immediately spotting his son in the corner, strangely familiar, and the young one stirred at the movement.

“Who are you?”

“Cimon.”

“Hmm. Good morning.”

[risukadarlin]

[teikoku star] vol. 3: sanji - track five

5; the scar under the make up

masterpost

                                                                                ✿

[00:13] Hello?

Yes! That’s right.

It’s me, Sanji.

I haven’t heard from you in so long.

Mr. Marikouji.

                                                                                ✿

It’s you again.

It looks like the most annoying person possible has found me.

I went through all the trouble of going out the back door for nothing, it seems.

Where I go and what I do has nothing to do with you.

I doubt we’re performing today, anyway.

That phone call?

The hell.

Were you eavesdropping on me again?

You really need to get some new hobbies.

It doesn't matter who called me.

So what if it was?!

I can go meet Mr. Marikouji if I want. I can do whatever I want, wherever I want.

Stop interfering.

Let go of me.

Who said you could tell me what to do?

It’s the same as always.

He said he’ll pay whatever I want if I go to his mansion now.

And there’s good news for you too.

He said he’d make sure to tell the other nobles you were holding performances again.

Look, it’s a win-win situation!

No one loses a thing.

I told you to let go of me.

Didn’t you hear me?

If you have time to dawdle here in the rain, then you have time to go in there and tell everyone you’re quitting.

Bye.

Why are you still here?

I look sad?

Are you thick?

I’m going to his mansion because I want to.

It’s not hard at all. I told you that.

“Don’t sell your body”?

Fine.

I’ll let you in on a little secret.

I’ll show you just how naïve the way you look at the world really is.

I told you before, didn’t I?

I’m an orphan.

I can’t even remember what my real parents looked like.

But I’ll never forget the life I lived in that slum.

You wouldn’t even be able to imagine the amount of people crammed into that tiny space.

It was cold.

It was dirty.

Almost everyone was starving.

People would kill children without blinking an eye, just so they had one less mouth to feed.

Did you know?

People who were too poor to raise their own children would sell them.

And not for much, either.

And the people they sold them too wouldn’t even raise them.

They’d just tell the parents that to get money.

They’d kill the child and then move on to the next couple.

Are you shocked?

There’s a whole world of poverty, way way below anything you could ever imagine.

That’s when I was adopted.

When I started taking customers.

He told me he’d save me.

I’d make a good product, he said.

And he was right.

I was shocked.

I’d seen so many children killed for spare change.

But all I needed to do was follow the orders of my customers and all of a sudden, I had value.

As long as I kept my customers happy, as long as they liked me, they’d come back.

I wasn’t just living. I was earning money.

It was so much easier than life in the slums.

So.

How could someone like you, who lived happily with their real father, understand my feelings at all?

You can’t, can you?

Or are you going to pretend that you can?

Are you going to keep telling me I’m making a mistake?

What am I doing wrong?

You keep saying that I’m lying about being hurt.

Don’t make me laugh.

I hate people like you the most.

People like you who amuse themselves by pretending to know how I feel.

You piss me off way more than someone who doesn’t even try to understand.

You don’t know a thing about me!

[06:53] What’s it like, rolling on the floor in the rain like that?

Your kimono is all wet.

How disgusting.

Hey you, ugly.

You said that I’m suffering because of the way I live now.

So, tell me.

Exactly how do I feel?

You know, don’t you?

As if you do!

As if you know how I feel!

What’s wrong?

Your lips are shaking!

Did it turn you on when I pushed you down like that?

You want me that much?

Then I’ll comfort you.

What’s it like being kissed by a product?

Treating myself like a product will only make me feel worse?

What are you talking about?!

It’s no different from being one of the Teikoku Star!

I make money by being on the stage.

My appearance, my face, my voice - it all makes money!

I wear thick makeup and transform into someone else.

I say things that I don't really think.

I make the customers happy.

Like this…

On stage and backstage, I make people happy, I sell myself and I make money.

And what’s wrong with that, huh?

You’re the one who pays me to be in the Teikoku Star!

That’s right.

You’re just like them, Owner.

You’re the same as my shitty father and my paying customers.

You use me when I’m valuable then throw me out when I’m useless.

Can you really say you’re not like them?

You aren’t different.

You’re the same.

You’re the same as the people who buy my body.

So…

What would you like me to do, customer?

What piece of clothing should I take off first?

Oh, really?

If I don’t need to undress…

Then I guess I have to undress you!

Look!

You’re exactly the same!

You’re no different from them at all.

All humans are like this.

You all get close to me by pretending to be kind…

But I know all you’re doing is using me.

Whether it's so we lie together like this…

Or so you can use me as a pawn on your stage…

It’s all the same.

Right?

I’m right, aren’t I?

It was all a pathetic act.

Did you think it’d make me like you?

Don’t treat me like a fool!

[10:57] Hey…

You…

You said you were worried about me, right?

You felt sympathy for me, right?

Then I’ll tell you everything you need to know to be empathetic towards me.

Everything people have done to me.

All of it. In detail.

You know what I mean, don’t you?

How I was touched…

How I was licked…

How I was hurt…

I’ll show you it all.

What?

Are you scared now?

It only hurts for a moment.

You’ll get used to it right away.

And then you’ll forget it ever hurt at all.

It’ll only hurt more if you resist.

All you can do is just stay still and do as you’re told.

No one will help you, no matter how much you scream.

What does that stupid expression mean?

Looking down at you like this…

What a good view.

Your filthy, muddy kimono.

Your messed up face.

I can’t believe you’re the owner of the Grand Imperial Theatre.

How shameful.

[13:18] Don’t think you can escape!

Look! The dirt suits you!

Why don’t you drink some of this dirty puddle?

Come on, open your mouth.

I’m telling you to drink some of this delicious, delicious dirt.

Fine then.

I’ll feed it to you.

Come on, open your mouth.

How is it?

Water and dirt entering your mouth at the same time like that?

It’s gritty and disgusting, right?

Don’t spit it out.

That’s such a waste.

Drink it all.

Tastes like dirt.

I haven’t tasted this in a while.

Not that it makes me nostalgic.

Hey, do you want more?

Tell me you want more.

Tell me it’s delicious.

Tell me you want more.

If you want me to stop, then…

That’s right.

My boots are covered in mud.

Lick it clean for me.

Come on.

I brought it all the way to your mouth.

Open wide.

You can’t do it?

Of course you don’t.

How undignified would that be.

There’s no way you could do something so dirty.

I did. To live.

Come on, open wider.

Why do you look so disgusted?

No one will stop just because you want them to!

Come on!

Come on!

Do you understand my life now?

This is how I’ve always lived.

Okay.

I’m going now.

If you understand, don’t ever tell me what to do ever again.

[16:30] Why?

If you let me go, this will all be over.

You won’t have to do anything.

So why do you keep stopping me?

What?!

What the hell?!

You still care, after everything I just did?!

You still think I don’t want to go to his mansion?!

That I’m in pain?!

Are you stupid?

Exactly where am I hurt?

I’m not!

I’m happy with my life.

Shut up.

Shut up!

You could never understand how I feel!

Who I am, how I live, what I think…

None of that really matters!

What?!

Let go of me!

Why are you hugging me like that?!

Do you think crying will make me forgive you?

What are you talking about?

Selling my body is just a means to an end.

How is that scary?

It’s normal, I’ve been doing it since I was a child.

Even if they’re rough with me.

Even if they’re cruel.

I never thought anything of it!

And that hasn’t changed!

I’m not just grinning and bearing it.

Let go of me!

I said, let go of me!

I don’t need help.

Let go of me!

Do you want me to bite your arm off?!

Do you think I couldn’t?

[19:00] Why won’t you let go?

You’re bleeding.

Go away!

Leave!

Get out of my sight!

Go find a newspaper to complain to, if you’re that bothered!

Why aren’t you leaving?!

I’m telling you to go!

Do you really think I can believe that?

No one on this earth would ever worry about me.

As if anyone would ever care…

As if that’d ever happen!

You’re just the same as everyone else.

I won’t let you trick me!

You don’t understand my pain!

Don’t come near me, ugly.

I feel awful.

I’m going home.

Shut up.

I’m drenched, thanks to you.

I can’t go to a mansion, looking like this.

[21:11] As if… anyone like that would exist.

No one would ever look at me.

I don’t believe it.

She’s lying.

It has to be a lie.

It has to me.

[dialovers-translations]

Diabolik Lovers GRAND EDITION for Switch ;; More, Blood ー Azusa Dark [Prologue]

Monologue

For as long as I can remember,

I was not granted a reality,

in which I could live my life while kept safe,

by someone or something.

The people walking by all looked so happy,

as if everything my heart could ever desire,

came to them naturally,

just like breathing.

And there I was, all by myself,

simply continuing to ponder,

whether I was actually alive,

or long dead.

When I gaze up at the blue skies,

the light stings in my eyes for some reason.

So I figured,

that I was probably alive.

Being alive felt meaningless,

and something I was barely even aware of.

Which conditions one has to meet,

to be able to consider themselves ‘alive’,

even this was a mystery to me.

Does breathing and eating,

equal being alive?

I posed myself this question time after time,

as I opened and closed the palm of my hand.

Unless I was moving part of my body like this,

it almost felt as if,

I was dead.

A proof of living. 

And a reason to live.

That was all I yearned for.

ー The scene starts with a flashback of a younger Azusa in the city

Azusa: ...

( The gypsies scooped up an orphan like myself from the side of the road as I was about to starve to death... )

( I’ll stay here by myself like this, to at least ensure I don’t cause any of them any trouble... )

( That is all I can do. I have no other value... )

( My life is completely meaningless...I might as well be dead... )

...

*SWOOSH*

Azusa: Ah...!

Justin: Oi, lil’ stray boy! (1)

Why are you sitting over there? You’re an eyesore!

Azusa: S-Sorrーー

*THUD*

Justin: Shut that annoying mouth of yours!

Azusa: ...

Geez...

Christina: Exactly! You tell him, Justin!

You’re still alive because we were so kind to pick you up from the streets after all!

So you better listen to us!

*Smack*

Azusa: ーー!

*Smack smack*

Azusa: Uu...

*THUD THUD*

Azusa: ...

Melissa: Ufufu~ He won’t complain at all even if we beat him up...!

I guess trash doesn’t have any pride, huh?

Well...I guess a kid who had to get picked up from the streets doesn’t even know how to talk back. Right, Justin~?

Justin: Yeah, maybeーー!

*THUD THUD*

Justin: Haah, haah, haah...

Azusa: ...Uu...

*THUD THUD*

Azusa: ...Ugh.

Justin: Nn...?

Azusa: ...Fufu...

Christina: W-What’s wrong with him...?

Azusa: Ahaha...!

Melissa: W-Wait! What’s so funny!?

Azusa: ...Hey, please? Punch me more.

Justin: Haah!?

Azusa: More, do it more and more. Keep going until I’m completely battered and bruised, I’m begging you...

More...Punch me more...

Justin: ...Disgusting...

ー The other kids leave

Azusa: Ah...Wait...Hold up...

Why are you leaving...? Hey! Why!?

...Aah...It hurts...Fufu.

Monologue

Humankind is stuck in a cursed vicious circle,

in which one thing always leads to another.(2)

Without a real meaning, without a real reason.

Those kids who punched me,

are beaten up by someone in town on a daily basis as well.

They have rocks thrown at them, and are yelled at.

And because of this unspoken curse,

they take out everything on me.

Their pent up anger,

eventually all ends up in one place,

and that is me.

It is my duty,

to take their beating,

That is my ‘reason to be alive’

ー The flashback ends as the scene shifts to the living room

Azusa: ...

...Uu...He’s...my...

Yui: Azusa-kun...? What’s wrong?

Azusa: They’re all...my...precious...

Yui: ( I wonder what has gotten into him all of a sudden? It’s as if he can’t hear me at all. )

Azusa: ...Justin...Christina...Melissa...

Fufu...Fufufu...

Ruki: Oi, Azusa. Cut it out. You can talk to yourself somewhere else.

Azusa: W-Wait...I’m filling them in on the news right now.

Yui: ( Them? Filling in? What is he going on about? )

Ruki: Haah...Oi, you. Are you sure you want this guy?

Yui: Y-Yes...

( Well, we actually decided through the cards. )

Ruki: Hmph. ...Okay then. Suit yourself.

ー Ruki walks away

Kou: Fufu~ M-neko-chan, good luck with our troublemaker now that you’ve chosen him?

Azusa-kun can be quite the handful, you know? Although, I don’t think he’s a bad guy at heart...

Yui: Y-Yeah...

( They’re actually leaving him in my care instead... )

Is he that hard to handle?

Kou: One hundred percent! (3) Isn’t that obvious? Fufu~

Yui: ( I-I see...Well, I guess he seems a little off, or rather mysterious...? )

( I probably shouldn’t say this about someone but he might even be a little...creepy. )

Kou: I’m sure you’ll regret it in the end. Finding yourself wishing you had chosen me instead, you see?

ー Kou leaves

Yui: ( There he goes... )

Yuma: ...

Yui: Uhm, Yuma-kun...

Yuma: What? Don’t talk to me like we’re pals.

See ya.

ー Yuma leaves too

Yui: ...

( They all left... )

( W-What now? I’m all alone with Azusa-kun now... )

Azusa: Fufu...Fufufu...

Yui: ( Uu...What should I do? He’s totally lost in his own thoughts. Can I talk to him...? )

U-Uhm...

Azusa: ...Fufu...

Yui: Excuse me...!

Azusa: ...Nn? ...Yes?

Yui: ( Aah, thank god. Seems like he took notice of me at least. )

Azusa: ...Say. Can I ask one thing?

Yui: ( I-I wonder what it could be...? )

Azusa: Do you...like me?

Yui: Eh?

Azusa: Ah. I’m sorry for...startling you. In that case, I’ll change my question.

Can you...punch me?

Yui: Eh...?

Azusa: I’m asking a serious question. Can you hit me, cut me, or kick me away?

Yui: N-No way. I can’t do that. I’m not exactly...

Azusa: ...I see.

What a shame, very much so...

I mean...I’m this close to you, yet you won’t punch me...

Yui: ( Azusa-kun actually looks disappointed... )

( However, you can’t expect someone to just punch you out of nowhere. )

Azusa: Do you hate me...? ...I see...

Yui: Eh...?

Azusa: But...I don’t dislike you.

Yui: Why? We only just met...

Azusa: Why? That’s because...we have the same scent.

Yui: The same? What do you mean?

Azusa: ...So, please...Let me suck your blood.

Yui: Eh? W-Wait...That doesn’t answer my question...?

Azusa: Can I? You don’t mind, do you? It’s fine...Right?

Yui: ( It’s no use. I’m not getting through to him! )

Azusa: Look, I’ll suck youーー Nn!

ー Azusa bites her

Yui: Ah...!

Azusa: ...Nn...Haah...

Aah, it’s so delicious...I want more, more...

You’re so lucky to have...this kind of blood...

This is...Eve’s blood...Hah...Nn...

Nn...Phew...

Yui: Stop...!

Azusa: ...

Yui: Y-You can’t!

Azusa: Fufu...You’re rather shameless, pretending to dislike it like that.

But you actually love this, don’t you? Being treated like thisーー

Yui: No...!

Azusa: ...

...Fufu. The more you fight back, the sweeter and richer your blood becomes...

We really are alike, two of a kind...

Yui: ( We’re two of a kind? What does heーー )

Azusa: Nn...!

Yui: Uu...!

Azusa: Aah...Delicious...

Say, does it hurt...? Where does it hurt the most?

Here, maybeーー?

Yui: Nn...!

Azusa: Oh, right here, huh...?

I’ll suck you more, okay? Don’t worry...You’re overjoyed, aren’t you?

Yui: I-It hurts! Azusa-kun...!!

Azusa: Hurts...?

I see, it hurts, huh...?

Fufu, haah...Aren’t you glad?

More pain is obviously better, isn’t it? I’ll make you feel it even more.

You are so very precious after allーー Nn...

My Eve...Haah...

Yui: Uu...Kuh.

( Why do things turn out...like this? Who is...’Eve’? )

Monologue

The more I protest,

the more intense Azusa-kun’s blood-sucking becomes.

I knew I had to run away.

However, the more I fought back,

the more he restrained me with force,

to the point where I was left wondering,

where he even found such strength...

I had no other choice,

but to let Azusa-kun indulge in meーー

ーー TO BE CONTINUED ーー

Translation notes

(1) Justin calls him 拾われ物 or ‘hiroware-mono’ here, which literally means ‘something which has been picked up’. 

(2) Literally it says that ‘being born eventually results into death, and with each death, new life is born’. In this context, I assume it is referring to something like ‘abuse creates abusers’, pointing towards the strong, natural connection between two different things. 

(3) Kou literally says ‘360 degrees’ but I felt like 100% was easier to understand for most people. 

→  LIKE MY TRANSLATIONS? SUPPORT ME ON KO-FI!

<- [ Azusa prologue ] [ Dark 01 ] ->

[auriel187]

Falcon and The Winter Soldier (and The Tigress)

Word Count: 1467

Warnings: Language

Ships: Bucky Barnes x Black!Reader(eventually), Sam Wilson x Black!Reader (platonic)

A/N: If anyone doesn’t like the fact that the reader is black, go away.

"This depression," said Wanda, "it is as if there is a force pressing down on me. So, this music that goes with that flow, that surrenders to the pressure, that's just assisting the depression, not me. I need the artists who struggle against depression and discover ways to win, how to step out from under this invisible anvil and rediscover the forces that uplift the soul." Y/n reminisced of the red headed telepath’s word from the last time they spoke.

She had always loved the flowers and the birds, loved the sunlight and the clouds that drift by. She had always loved the way the leaves move in a breeze and that soft whispering sound they make, like nature loves to chatter too. Yet the tiredness that began a while ago remains like a veil over her skin, grey and cold. And as she watches the petals and the twigs that sway outside the window, there is only a creeping sorrow where there should be joy. It sits like November rain on her skin, enough to chill what was once warm inside. At any other time she would have called a friend, asked for the warmth she needed to ward it off, just a little is enough.

No longer. Now she just lets it come, drop by drop and she feels like it is an ocean falling upon me instead of rain - that the grief of years she carefully suspended has all condensed right above her head into a cloud large enough to block the sun. They say it can't rain forever, that there will come a time when it must cease, that the last drop will have fallen. Thing is, she just doesn't care. She will still be true to myself, still help others, but she planned to just stay here in the cold, comfortably numb.

“Steve represented the best in all of us. Courageous, righteous, hopeful. And he mastered posing stoically.” The audience let out a small chuckle as Sam spoke fondly about the man whose shield he was holding.

Y/n felt her stomach twist as she saw the senator nod his head at Sam’s words. She watched as the smile faded before he continued. The sounds of cameras shuttering filled the silence.

“The world has been forever changed,” Sam continued “a few months ago, billions of people reappeared after five years away, sending the world into turmoil. We need new heroes.” It made Y/n shudder. ‘New heroes’ like the old ones were replaceable. Heroes like Steve. Like Tony…

Like Nat.

Steve giving his shield to Sam was a message. ‘Sam, I trust you will do the right thing, ' was that statement. Sam giving his shield to the Steve Rogers exhibit is the right thing. At least in his eyes. He was right, the world needed new heroes.

“Ones suited for the times we’re in. Symbols… are nothing without the women and men that give them meaning.” Y/n grimaced, fiddling with the bracelet that clung to her wrist. Her painted black fingers ran over the word ‘котенок’ as she walked with burning tears that she blinked them away. “And this thing…” Sam chuckled, staring at the shield. I don’t know if there’s ever been a greater symbol, but it’s more about the man who propped it up, and he’s gone. So, today we honor Steve’s legacy. But also, we look to the future. So, thank you, Captain America, but this belongs to you.” The room burst into applause as he placed the shield in a cube shaped display case.

When Sam spotted Y/n in the crowd, he hopped off the stage and walked up to her. He had a small smile on his face as he pulled her into a tight hug. “I’m glad you made it.” He whispered into her dark curls.

“Of course I came, Sam. You know what you and Steve are to me.” She kept her voice steady and cold, not that Sam seemed to mind. He of all people knew what would happen if she got emotional. The label angry black woman wouldn’t even cover it, being what she was, she would be shot on sight without question.

“Are you doing alright? It’s been a while.” He pushed her shoulder lovingly as a small grin broke across her face. She tried to play it off like she was fine, but Sam knew better.

“I just miss them. I’ll get over it.” Y/n replied with a shrug, the pressed silk top hanging loosely off her starving frame.

Grief made people do crazy things. In Y/n’s case the loss of three of the four most important people in her life made eating relatively hard. Especially when the three she lost would still be here if they hadn’t gone back to save the one she lost. Her loss stared her in the face every time she saw her one, and now only, closest friend. “Y/n, I think we both know that’s not true, otherwise you’d be over it. I know it’s hard. I can’t imagine the pain you’re going through but you can always talk to me.” To which she nodded. “Look, I’ve got to go. I’ll talk to you later.” He said quietly, backing away slowly, leaving Y/n alone. Y/n took a look around the room but found nothing left to keep her there, so she left, heading to the only place that felt like some semblance of home.

Standing in the building that reminded her of everyone she loved and lost, Tony Stark’s name, Steve’s punching bags, the room painted a deep scarlet with a mirrored wall. Y/n walked deeper into the room, peeling off her heels replacing them with ballet shoes before calling out, “Hey, F.R.I.D.A.Y, Can you play my ‘Family Playlist’ please?” She asked, beaming at no one in particular when ‘Back In Black’ began playing over the speakers. Her thoughts were running a mile a minute as she danced on par as the music changed from song, after song, after song.

You pay for everything one way or another. If you are lazy you will pay with the pain of failure. If you love to eat and indulge you will pay with the price of your health and self esteem. Yet if you love ballet, if you wish to fly as if God had remembered to sew on your angel wings, you will pay in the pain of training, in daily dedication, sweat and struggle. If you love someone, you have to sit and watch them in pain, suffer in ungodly ways…die. Those who try to save the world are always the ones that die to save it. In this life, what are you paying for and how? The cost-benefit see-saw is always there. Y/n learned from an early age that her emotions were a thing to suppress, and so when the ballet teacher asked for them they came forwards as an untapped fountain and took all by surprise. They called this her gift. She called it her release. The only thing that kept her from lashing out.

“You just keep dancing,” her teacher said, watching as she spun with excellent pursition. “You don’t stop until the burning in your body is too much.” Y/n was at that point but she pushed through it. She didn’t stop until the playlist ended and just as she made her way to the ‘Red Room’, her Red Room, she found her way home. Clicking the TV on to fill the silence her heart dropped when she heard it.

“-Unrest, in the wake of recent events, has left us vulnerable. Everyday Americans feel it. While we love heroes who put their lives on the line to defend Earth, we also need a hero to defend this country. We need a real person who embodies America’s greatest values. We need someone to inspire us again, someone who can be a symbol for all of us. So, on behalf of the Department of Defense and our Commander-in-Chief, it is with great honor that we announce here today that the United States of America has a new hero.”

She was physically quaking with unbottled rage. Her eyes were trained on the TV as a man, a white man, came into view on the screen waving it around like it was a fucking trophy to flaunt. She unconsciously walked up to her flatscreen and waited. She wanted to hear them say it. She wanted to see if they had the balls to say it.

“Join me in welcoming your new Captain America.” She punched the TV with the force that caused her knuckles to bleed. Right in the face of the man carrying Steve’s shield. Sam’s rightful shield!

[legoshi-plz]

Can we get some general headcanons of dating Louis plz 🥺👉👈

You sure can! I don’t know why but this prompt really called to me for some reason and it’s a nice break from the usual! This is with College!Louis simply because..... I’m a simp for College! Louis 😳

Reader can be read as any gender or animal type/class.

Warning: NSFW +18 [under the NSFW warning, first half is SFW]

*Disclaimer: I know absolutely nothing about Deer in general and made up 100% of the stuff in here because I am too lazy to actually google Deer physiology (also I just wanted to make the hcs)

///////

Okay so let’s start at the beginning! Like the beginning beginning. Louis saw you around campus but he’s still a Herbivore so he was shy about approaching you. Despite his overbearing superiority complex in high school, I feel like College would really put him back into reality. You have no reason to idolize him or fear him. He might be pretty popular on campus but he’s nowhere near the God-status he thought he had so he’s unsure of how to even approach a total stranger that he sees everywhere and can’t stop thinking about. Also he has an insane amount of insecurities which end up getting the best of him causing him to chicken out every time he wanted to get close to you.

You on the other hand? Barely noticed him. You’d seen him (his gigantic antlers which got even bigger in college were pretty hard to miss) but you regarded him as out of your league and immediately put him out of your mind. You weren’t one to dwell on if boys liked you/why didn’t boys like you blah blah blah.

Needless to say, your first few interactions with Louis were pretty terrible. He was awkward, stiff, defensive, it was like pulling teeth but in verbal form. You didn’t like him.

One day you brushed beside him and he nearly jumped out of his skin. You asked him what his problem was and he answered honestly “Sorry, you make me incredibly nervous.”

Suddenly it all clicked, the averted eyes, the bristled fur, the awkward stuttering. He might have outwardly appeared suave to any other animal on campus but he was still just a Herbivore with a crush.

Moving on, the two of you start dating and Louis is completely wrapped around your finger. It takes a while for his initial nerves around you to wear off, even after the relationship turned romantic. He constantly wanted to impress you or seem cool to you which you repeatedly reminded him you didn’t care about but it was important to him.

Once the two of you were more settled into the relationship and had been dating for some time, he still likes to impress you. Not to the same extent as before but he never folds on certain aspects because your opinion of him is something he values gravely, even if he won’t admit that to you.

King of Self Neglect, he stays up way too late studying, gets hardly no sleep, stretches himself way too thin but will still always make time for you even if he’s utterly exhausted. One time he nearly fell asleep sitting up while the two of you were on a date. You drove him back to your place, tucked him into bed and let him sleep it off. He felt awful the next morning for ruining the date and cleared his schedule the entire next day for a ‘redo’.

If ever verbally asked, Louis will vehemently deny liking PDA. In actually, however, he can’t keep his hands off you. He’s always touching you, caressing your cheek, holding you around the waist, interlocking your hands (especially the pinkies!! he doesn’t even realize he does that one, you’ll just look up and he’s totally aloof to this soft gesture), resting his chin on the top of your head/shoulder, nuzzling your neck (this is a big one for Deer and actually a declaration of love but you don’t know that). He’s pretty touch-starved but he hates to admit it so please indulge his clingy behavior (and he is very clingy.)

Speaking of clinginess, Louis is still incredibly petty and if he feels you’re not making enough time for him, expect to be called out on it.

“Am I not enough for you?” “If you prefer the single life, I can stop burdening you with this relationship.” “I see I come last in your life, as always.” “Don’t string me along. Either breakup with me here and now, or actually be with me.” “I see you do not take this relationship as seriously as myself. I will adjust my expectations of you accordingly.”

He’s a total drama queen and at first his proclamations scared you, thinking he was going to break up with you. But once you realized he was just overly dramatic about everything, you barely bat an eye now. You still try to make it up to him, though, whenever he’s feeling neglected. He’s enjoys that very much.

Any holiday, he’s asking you to come home with him. The mansion gets pretty lonely with just him and Oguma and he wants you there with him. You almost always comply.

At first he was pretty insecure about his leg and felt like you might think he was a freak because of it or worse: weak. You always let him know that you don’t care about his leg and that you love him regardless, even though you believe he has nothing to be ashamed of in the first place. That always makes his heart burst with love for you and he turns into absolute puddy in your hands.

Very jealous. Still holds on a little to that envy he has for Carnivores and thinks one might steal you away, especially since a couple of your male friends are Carnivores. In his mind, who wouldn’t want to be with some one bigger or stronger? He tends to lash out when he’s feeling particularly jealous and it’s the cause of almost 90% of the fights you two have.

When it comes to fights, even though Louis can be very petty, he hates every second the two of you are at odds so he usually apologizes fairly quickly. If you are the one who is in the wrong, he will continue to do normal activities (holding your hand, going out to dinner, cuddling) but he will do it angrily and give you the silent treatment until you apologize (please apologize quickly, he hates being mad at you even if he doesn’t admit it.)

His favorite activity? Anything where you lay on his chest. He lives for it and he really doesn’t get a restful sleep unless you’re on his chest. (Also he totally owned a weighted blanket before he met you because Deers usually sleep cuddled together in little huddles so it’s just kind of their ‘thing’ but it doesn’t hold a candle to when he has you sleeping on his chest. Actually had a “Is this what I’ve been missing all these years?” revelation moment when you two first started dating.)

Wear his clothes, it makes him feel manly also he thinks you look adorable. Plus he loves when you give them back and they’re covered in your scent, makes him feel so... owned? But in a good way! As if you were staking your claim on him which is a secret weakness of his.

Doesn’t really like Horror movies but will endure them if you’re into them. Likes to watch with you on his lap and his hands under your shirt (yes, he’s extremely distracting and yes he’s just trying to fool around. He couldn’t care less about the plot because he finds it unrealistic and not scary)

Though Louis had long ago cast aside the thought of having children (he doesn’t believe he’ll be a good father, similar to Oguma), any time he sees you interact with children and how well children respond to you, it awakens that inner ‘Stag’ in him and suddenly the thought of having kids doesn’t seem so bad, not if you’re by his side. He tends to try to not linger on those feelings for too long though so he doesn’t get any big ideas.

Okay now time for the NSFW portion.

Once again, Louis can! not! keep! his!hands! off! you!

Male Deer have a higher sex drive than the average Herbivore male so please be prepared for that.

Loves when his partner is kinda heavy, it amplifies the sex for him. His favorite thing is when they ride him/bounce on top of him, it’s practically an instant nut from him.

Louis can force himself to hold off on coming if he has to but he has a ridiculously quick recovery time along with the stamina for multiple rounds so he’d rather just come in or on his partner then keep going rather than prolonging it.

Oral is a power play to him and nothing turns him on more than using his incredibly long/skilled tongue to turn his partner into a weeping mess before him.

Has a habit of picking his partner up and throwing them over his shoulder to carry them to the bedroom. Asserts his dominance and he knows his long legs will get you both there faster.

He loves a vocal partner, and craves every syllable you can muster during sex. Whimpering his name mixed in with nonsensical affirmations of love gets his heart (and cock) instantly swelling.

Remember that he likes heavier partners? Well that ties into the whole thing with the weighted blanket and Deers just in general craving something on top of them, so naturally Louis prefers when you’re on top but is happy to participate in any position you prefer. Just know if it’s missionary or some variation of that, he is throwing your legs over his shoulders (so it’s kinda like a compromise?) The boy just really loves having you draped over him, okay?

Also in the case of a heavier partner, he is always trying to flex his strength and assure you that you’re not too heavy for him at all. Always picking you up (to fuck you against the wall), sitting you in his lap (to finger fuck you), carrying you bridal style (to take you to the bedroom to fuck you.) He’s very determined to show you just how obsessed he is with your body.

He’s very weak when getting his cock sucked and WILL come in your mouth within a few minutes. He’s not ashamed in the least bit.

You have about a five minute window after sex to do everything you need to do (use the bathroom, get cleaned up, etc.) because once he atttaches himself to you, you’re not going anywhere. Cuddling after sex isn’t optional, even if he’s mad at you.

Speaking of which, angry sex with Louis? Absolutely mind-blowing. Once he’s in full blown Stag mode, there’s really little you can do except lay there and take his huge cock while he pumps you with load after load of cum. Also, the overstimulation is out of this world.

Louis’ demeanor completely cracks after sex and he’s literally at his most vulnerable with you then. Openly confesses just how much you mean to him in moments like these while showering you with aftercare/ affection. Really turns into the lovey dovey type and likes to just sit there stroking your fur whispering sweet nothings in your ear while you lay on his chest.

This has probably gone on long enough so I’m just going to end this here but the boy’s madly in love with you, enough said.