#not overnight. but still. itll get better. | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

littlebabycrybtch · 4 years ago

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tbh... we have absolutely FAILED ppl with ea/ting disor.ders so fucking unimaginably bad, especially the visibly underweight ones. and we are still failing them to this day by avoiding valuable education out of discomfort and demonization. its genuinely appalling sometimes, to see just how Dangerously ignorant ppl are about this shit. bros listen 2 me rn. you are not a doctor, and you are Not going cure an ed with your almost laughably ignorant and malicious ‘reverse psychology’ bit where you call someone an ugly skeleton knocking on deaths door whos body needs to be banned from instagram forever, because you’re just ‘so scared theyre gonna die’ or w/e so you can legit pretend they dont exist, holy fucking Shit dude. that shame-and-shun tactic is so unbelievably dangerous. like, if you knew Anything REAL abt these disorders or frankly any mental health issues and cared enough to apply that then you would understand how thats just... pure cruelty. im sorry to be blunt but yeah this isnt a joke, it needs to be said that you are easily going to KILL SOMEONE with that kind of unfiltered uneducated IGNORANCE. it is inexcusably selfish, harmful, and ableist behavior, we have to stop this already.

imo there’s a Lot to be said about the toxicity spiral thats become the pro recovery movement and how much it rejects and speaks over the people its Supposed to support, becoming more about ‘anti symptoms’ than pro anything, but if you are gonna understand Anything new today at least learn this;;; hating yourself at unhealthy is Never ever going to be the key to loving yourself at healthy. being ashamed of yourself FOR being unhealthy, will NOT make you healthier, it’ll make you worse every time. im not tryna be mean but honestly how the actual FUCK do yalls brains work, it is SO wildly damaging to let yourself perpetuate this type of mindset, and then still claim pro recovery or w/e like recovery doesnt have to start at unhealthy??? like itll just happen overnight??? like that’ll help??? like if ppl catch you displaying symptoms of the disorder you LITERALLY HAVE, you arent allowed to talk abt it in any form without intense open negativity towards it and yourself, so ppl know ur definitely totally against it tho and not enabling urself, bc if you dont talk abt ur shame and embarrassment for it that means you arent recovering and need a mob after you??? thats how you think people are gonna get better????

ffs dont try to viciously shame yourself out of bad habits and treat your disorders like taboo, respect and love yourself wholly, the good and the bad, if you want to form better habits!!! ppl NEED to be encouraged to love themselves at unhealthy if they ever want to improve. you are not going to accidentally make them worse by not constantly shaming all their ‘flaws’, they are not MADE of ‘flaws’. by showing support for the mentally ill, you are not fucking supporting their ‘symptoms’, you are a supporting THE FUCKING PERSON EXPERIENCING THEM. and you DESPERATELY NEED TO DO THAT!! there is MORE TO THEM than their symptoms! there are things to COMPLIMENT them on besides their body! its gotten to this point that like. ppl are actually Afraid of just being nice to ppl with eds. they dont even wanna treat them like Humans outside of their disorder, all they see is a disorder. everyone is just SO afraid of ‘enabling’ them by not being vocally against their symptoms that they avoid them like the plague and dont even try to build them up, which is what they fucking need more than anything dude!!

ppl think refusing to ever let an underweight person feel pretty or love their body where they are at is what they need and will force them to recover, or they think giving them goals like ‘you’ll be so much happier with a bigger body’ and ‘keep going one day you wont look so sick’ is at all different than their own internal dialogue, when the Truth (that people need to fucking know by now!), is that shame with mental health is incredibly dangerous, eds are diverse but theyre most often rooted in starvation as a form of self harm from an unwavering self hatred and feeling of failure or lack of control, one they already have deeply ingrained and will usually feel at Any Size, which is why so many feel unsatisfied and keep going and going till they die. the answer to this problem isnt gonna be inflicting more fucking self hate or pressure. thats gasoline on a fire. you cannot just try and. UNO REVERSE CARD THE ~RULES~ OF THEIR FUCKING MENTAL DISORDER and expect RECOVERY... oh my god dude, please, id laugh out loud if this wasnt so malicious.

listen, if you wanna help, like actually Care about Helping the way you claim the root of your attitude is, you need to make that person feel like they can love themselves, not try to make them ‘realize’ how ‘bad’ they are and how uncomfortable and scared they make you and how Not Allowed their behavior is, bc 1. body dysmorphia is a delusion,,, denial is a common association with addictive/self destructive behaviors,,,, you are going about it wrong if thats the first thing you try to accomplish, and 2. whether you like it or not ‘bad’ is gonna be your first checkpoint! who would be motivated to get better when all you’re doing is giving them an already failing grade and pushing them back???

you’re all just... so paralyzed by ignorant fear every time you interact with someone with an ed bc you are so fucking detached from it as a concept, but you wont LEARN how to BEHAVE AROUND THESE PPL! LIKE! and then you claim you act this way ‘because you care'. ok then why do you feel like you dont have to listen or learn??? why dont you see these tactics as needlessly cruel when its explained??? bc oh you cant ‘’’’’trust’’’’ ppl with eds to tell You how to help Them, right??? they’re probably lying, you know better than them ofc. smhhh, every other mental illness community gets to speak for themselves to the ppl without their experiences and therefore the ability to hurt them, sure, but not the sneaky ed people, they created pr.0/a.na/, (the ONLY existing space for encouraging mentally ill ppl in self destructive behaviors, obviously), so they dont know what they need, they have to be Told by Normal people bc their irrational brains are Just Too Broken. (/s)............ like.............?? it is Sooo fuckin prejudiced and disgusting tbh. we gotta do better than this.

eds are almost completely left out of communities for mental health these days. its seriously so disappointing. if you ACTUALLY ‘care’, then ok you need to swallow your pride and do better, you need to Listen and not let your personal discomforts (genuine triggers excluded!) with their appearance or behaviors get in the way of how humanized and committed your decent treatment of their disorder is. tbr, sometimes you arent just ‘concerned’ about a person, sometimes how you go about your feelings is rooted in your inner urge to validate your own discomforts with them, which means it might end up more about you than about them, which hurts them. i mean for the love of god, these ppl are not ‘irresponsible’ for existing around others with their ~unhealthy bodies~, they are not a walking trigger and cant be treated like one, they arent contagious, they will not benefit mentally from hearing you say you think they should be physically banned from posting selfies or w/e, that isolation WONT prevent eds from ~~~spreading~~~ and will severely harm the person in question, you are not making a heroic decision to try and bully them away to ‘save’ others from ever being around them or save them from being around an “enabling” (supportive recovery/not shameful) community. you are not ‘fixing’ them by making them hate their underweight bodies. you’re LITERALLY just ignorant and prejudiced and ableist, your ideas are actually Very harmful, you are not a savior, you are making it worse, plain and simple. Please just start doing better already, its kind of a life or death situation here

#tw eating disorder ment// /#long post// /#tldr;;; hey guess what guys. you know what you should do if you think you see a body check??#compliment em. just avoid the topic of their weight/size/etc or their disorder (even to encourage them to recover. dont start there)#literally pm them and tell them you like their hair. their clothes. their voice. their personality. their art. their username. ANYTHING #that HUMANIZES THEM AS A PERSON OUTSIDE THEIR DISORDER #and BUILDS FOUNDATIONS FOR SELF LOVE!!!!!#/UNCONDITIONAL/ SELF LOVE that reminds them their value lies in MORE THAN THEIR BODY TYPE #that is so unfathomably fuckign IMPORTANTTTTT YOU GUYYYYS DONT UNDERSTAND I #literally please at the very least if u arent comfy with that just stop . Insulting. underweight bodies. that is literally.#'''enabling''' their habits. u have to be literally impossibly ignorant to think that wont make them worse. so. fuck you #if you actually 'care' abt these suffering ppl the way you claim uhhh improve your behavior after hearing all the flaws with it pointed out #puhlease #?#instead of just. sticking the r3xies in the corner and saying 'it makes me uncomfy so if i cant see it it doesnt matter'#like why tf do ppl assume so much of this is about 'attention' or rather positive attention for self destruction #and therefor ANY ATTENTION AT ALL must be bad and shunning is the right answer. like????#bro just. put in literally an ounce of effort here and give them the right KIND of attention which is easy to figure out if ur educated.#godddddddduhh #yes im sorry but the mentally ill slowly dying ppl DO require your attention actually. if ppl are in danger 'for attention' its uh.#more important that you just. dont ignore that and figure out the most nuanced responses Later actually #yall just dont want the responsibility on you if you say the wrong thing and im sorry but to an extent thats just... kinda... selfish #they need ya buddy you dont have to be bffs with every single one of em but you could just like. treat em like a person at least shruugg #all im asking is that yall educate yourselves a little better and stop this horrible shit

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mollydollyjournals · 3 years ago

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I see a lot of posts about BPD mood swings being like 'I was crying but now I'm suddenly fine' but I swear for me it's basically always the other way round. My 'suddenly fine' only really happens overnight or maybe over a few hours. In those cases I feel guilty and like I faked the sad mood or something, or like itll at least look like that. I want to talk to people and stuff but I'm worried itll look like I was never really that upset because now I fine, when that's not it I just have a shitty brain that malfunctions all the time.

Usually it's more like I'm doing stuff and I'm fine and then suddenly I feel really sad or anxious and I dont know how to get back to feeling okay. I'm feeling that creep up on me now. Maybe because it's the end of the day and I know I have to sleep at some point. It's currently coming up to 10pm - I dont really know when I'll be going to sleep, but any time from now. Especially given how much I've been sleeping recently. But I know that I sleep badly without a drink these days. I need to either be drunk and distracted until I wear myself out, or too hungover to stay awake, otherwise sleeping just feels weird.

I want to be happy about not drinking today. When I've been struggling with it a lot recently and really needed to get through today. I wish I could feel happy that I managed it. But instead I just feel kind of...gray. I guess this is where I feel like I need external validation. Theres no grand reward for doing basic self care like this. You dont get to the end of the day and suddenly feel great, or reach a sober milestone and level up or something. You just get more withdrawal symptoms, even ones you thought you were past, and you know you have to just keep doing this over and over and over.

I want to be able to tell myself I can drink tomorrow. I guess maybe I could, itd still mean I had 2 days off which is better than I've been managing recently. But I definitely shouldnt. Whatever it is that's making me sick, alcohol will make it worse. Itll make my stomach hurt. Itll mess with water retention. Etc etc etc. Its just so daunting knowing I have to do this again, and then again, and then again, and then again, and not really get a break. That's why I've never said I'm going totally alcohol free. I have to feel like I can get a break from trying eventually, and that it's not the end of the world if i slip up. Any time I've tried to say never again to anything, I've immediately fucked up. Just doesnt work for me.

But I still struggle so much just to get through small blocks of time... I hate it. I feel so weak. I'm sure that at least part of this is from withdrawal because I've got used to drinking more often recently, so it would help if I had a small amount to ease that. But I always have more. Sometimes I can manage it, but apparently not right now. I wish I could check myself in somewhere and have it all planned out and taken care of. Daily therapy for underlying issues. Things to do to stay busy and for self improvement. Support for difficult moments. Structure and limits for alcohol itself. I cant hold onto myself.

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pbandjesse · 4 years ago

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I really hope I can sleep better tonight. It is very frustrating. And Im going to have to start waking up early for work again and I will have to be driving and I am not happy about the possibility that I wont sleep before having a really long work day.

But today was a pretty good day. Besides waking up just super exhausted, I felt really cute. I love this jumpsuit. I was real happy with my hair and makeup. It was a good day.

I started it in bed though. Like after I got dressed, I grabbed the sandwich James made me and I just laid in bed and had my sandwich.

I was just laying in bed for a long time. But eventually I was like. Gotta get up.

James went to get quarters for us. And I worked on some art.

I did a lot of sanding today. Painted the other pot I put a base on yesterday. Its not my favorite but its still cute. Tomorrow Im going to seal all of the painted ones and get them ready for plants. Im excited. Going to start giving them away. I know which one is going to Jess. And our friend Benairen. I want to ask mom what one she might like. Then my brother. Just give them out. James is going to get me more clay soon. Im excited about it.

When James came back we went to the park and played frisbee. But I kept getting hit in the fingers and broke my nail. Which mostly just hurt. We sat on the hill and watched a dad play with their baby. It was cute. It was really just a beautiful day.

We got home and James made us lunch. James told me that I need sandals with backs for camp. So I spent a half hour putting leather straps on my sandals. I also ordered nice new sandals but these will do in the mean time.

I played animal crossing. I got word from the discord Im a part of that someone had turnips for 509 bells. Which meant when we were able to go over to their island later in the day we got 2.08 millon bells. Incredible. That island was in the southern hemisphere and it was snowing!! So that was really cool. I caught snowflakes and a bug and a fish we didnt have for our museum. It was really excellent.

The afternoon was mostly art and chilling. I made a big camping list document. I made lists for what I've bought. Things I need in my overnight emergency bag. My day pack. Things I would want if I need to sleep there. It was fun making a list.

James gave me a new tattoo. I was a huge baby about it because the place was weird and causing my arm to spasm. But James did a really good job on the curves. Itll get more work tomorrow but I really love it.

We ordered pizza for dinner. It was the best pizza weve ordered since quarantine started. Oh! And the doctors office called me. Well not the doctors. The nurse line at the mental health division called me. Because I filled out a form when I was very sad last week. And they were very concerned. So guys. I am the best, most functional adult, and I made an appointment to speak with the therapist on tuesday. I did almost call when the nurse made me feel validated and that was probably a sign that this is a good move.

I have been hanging out since then. Chilling. Playing with sweetP. I took a bath. And now I am ready to get some sleep. Going to wake up an hour earlier tomorrow to get ready for work wake up time. Cause I think Im going to have to get up at 630 normally. But at least this week I will have to leave here around 9. Which is when I have gotten out of bed the last week. Gotta work on that.

Wish me luck. Take care of eachother.

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sauveteen · 6 years ago

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Need You | s.m

just.... angst (no this isn’t a series i just wanted to use a name kay) check the tags for a trigger warning PLEASE!

Teresa’s always been half a step behind on everything. Whether it was puberty and growing boobs overnight, finding a boyfriend, having her first kiss and eventually her first time, she was always the ‘It’ll happen, don’t worry’, or the ‘I’m sure you’ll find someone’ kind of a gal. Now, as she climbs up the stairs to her dorm, keys spinning around her fingers, whistling the tune to a country song, she realises that she’s half a step behind on life, too. She dressed up and she put on makeup and she did her hair and came back without anyone by her side and that isn’t fair, is it? Teresa, of all people, deserves someone walking her home. She deserves someone waking up next to her and not hating her for drooling all over their pillow. She deserves to come home to a funny, and if God’s gracious enough, cute guy.

She shakes her head, laughs a little at the joke her life’s become, and steps onto the landing of her floor. And then she stops in her steps, does a double take, and stares. (She might have gawked a little too, if she’s being honest.) When she said she that she deserved to come home to a cute, funny guy, she didn't mean Shawn. Well. Shawn’s funny, at times, and he's admittedly cute, too, but he looks like he's several steps behind on everything, more than she is, and that kind of upsets Teresa a little. She stands there a moment, watching his hunched figure, his blotched face and and his tear stained cheeks and the curls he'd obviously been running his hands through and thinks Fuck, I’m going to cry.

He hasn't noticed her yet, she assumes. He's staring at a wall and his eyes have this absent look in them and her heart’s beating against his chest because someone's hurt him. Someone's hurt him so, so, so terribly bad and for some godforsaken reason he's at her door and she's going to have to look at his face and pretend like she's okay. She isn't. She can't see people hurt, and if he's here then he either expects her to console him or talk to him or listen to him and. And Teresa's terrible at every single one of those things. She's good at whistling through her nose and blowing bubblegum bubbles and aligning frames just right without having to use a leveller but God is she terrible at all things emotional.

It's Shawn, though, and she considers him a friend. He has to consider her one too, if he's unabashedly upset and on her doorstep, so she silently closes the distance between the two. Takes her heels off at the stairs, and tiptoes her way over to her room. Shawn blinks, then, and looks up at her. And then his face twists, and sure, he might be the one crying, but she's the one whose heart twists into itself.

“I'm drunk,” Shawn admits, wobbly chin making her head hurt. He mumbles a little, reaching out to tug at the bottom of her dress. Teresa kneels in front of him, placing her heels on the floor, and pretends like she knows what she's doing. She doesn't. She doesn't even know why Shawn's here, of all places, since he has other, better friends and they barely know each other, but there's little she can do about it. She's The Chosen One tonight. She never knew a reference from her favourite book could leave such a bad taste in her mouth.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, Tess.” Tess. He's never called her that before, has he? Has he ever called her anything apart from Acosta or dumbass? She doesn’t think so. “I'm so drunk.”

“Did you get lost?” She doesn't know what to do with her hands. Should she reach for his face, should she hold his hand, should she play with the strings of his hoodie? She doesn't know. Fuck. When Shawn reaches towards her, though, fingers brushing along her knuckles, she turns her palm upwards and interlaces their fingers. Good. He's doing most of the work.

“No.” He says, and then sniffs. Her lips pull down in a frown, and she decides that she's going to be here a while, so Teresa folds her legs under herself, and she listens to him talk. “I— I didn't get lost. I. Tess—” His voice breaks, and his head drops. Softly, as if ashamed, he mutters, “I need you.”

Teresa isn't going to lie. If there's one thing that life's taught her, it's to always be honest to herself. And to be honest, she's a little confused. A lot confused, actually. Sure, she considers them friends, and sure, he bought her coffee once, but that's it. That's all it ever was, all that it ever was supposed to be. A friend from class who she occasionally swapped notes with and asked for pens. But he's here now, and she can tell he's trying to push his tears back in, and he says he needs her. He doesn't know her, and he probably only knew where her dorm was because he stole her binder and had to return it, but he needs her right now. And she has to be there for him, no matter how confused she is or how rough the carpet feels under her bare legs. She squeezes his hand, though, because she feels like that's a good start. Her words fail her, and she finds the fact that she writes as a passion a little ironic at the moment, but he squeezes her hand back and that's all the assurance she needs.

“Do you—” Teresa clears her throat, unsurely brushing the back of his hand with her thumb. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not really.”

Well fuck, then. What next?

“Shawn,” Teresa places two fingers under his chin because that's how it is in the movies, and she tips his head up to look at him better. “You need to tell me what's wrong.”

“I— I can’t.” He sniffles, and then he chuckles, and she'd be confused if his previous claim hadn't hit her again. He's hurt, sure, but he's drunk. “She made me promise.”

“Who's she?”

“My girlfriend.” Shawn says this, and then his eyes widen a little. He sucks a breath in, leans away from her, and takes his bottom lip between his teeth. Giggles emptily. “I meant my ex. I think. I don't know.”

“Did she—” Teresa doesn't know how she's supposed to ask something like this. She tips her head forward, finding his other hand and folding their hands together on his lap, and continues solemnly, “Did she hurt you, Shawn? Are you hurt?”

“I can't say. M’not allowed to. She said that. I'm not allowed to tell you, Tess.”

“You're crying.”

“Yes. Was. M’not crying anymore, see?” Just as he claims that, a tear rolls down his cheek, and Teresa gingerly thumbs it away. She hopes that the Gods that are pulling the strings at this very moment are enjoying the show, because really, she isn't. She's so close to tears that one might mistake her for the victim. “Won’t cry over her.” A sob rakes through his body. Shawn lurches forward, heaving as if he needs to throw up, and tightens his hold on Teresa. His head finds purchase on her shoulder, warm breath fanning against her skin. Unsurely, she reaches for the back of his head, pulling him into herself. If she couldn't feel his tears on her skin or his laboured breath against her shoulders then maybe, maybe she would've joked about the awkwardness of it all, but she can't. Not right now. Right now, Shawn needs her.

“Wanna play a game, Shawn?” Shawn shakes his head, curls brushing along the tops of her shoulders, but she persists. When she thinks comfort, she thinks two things: her mom’s cream cheese sandwich and her stupid, stupid game.

“What's your name, Shawn?”

“You're so stupid,” He mutters. His lips brush against her skin and she jolts a little, but he speaks again. “I was so stupid.”

“Hi, Shawn, I'm Teresa. Who's your favourite singer?”

Shawn doesn't reply. She scratches the back of his head, resisting the urge to instinctively kiss his temple, and guesses for him, “John Mayer? Me too. Love the guy. Dad material. What's your favourite book?”

Shawn doesn't answer, and she doesn't expect him to, but his breathing evens out after a while. She expects him to let go, but he holds onto her like he expects her to continue, like her mom's makeshift questionnaire isn't a stupid shenanigan she made up for her stubborn daughter but something that actually makes him feel better. Teresa humours him, rubbing a hand up and down his back, and asks, “Why are you here, Shawn?”

His face is resting on her shoulder now, not against it, so when he whispers she hears it clear as day. “My friends can't know.”

“Know what?”

“Why we broke up. If. If we broke up, then why. She cares too much, what people think.” Teresa’s about to ask him why his friends can't know, but he speaks again, and she swallows her words and wishes she would've choked on them. “She cares about everything. And everyone. She— she pretends to care about charities. Doesn't even like puppies.”

Teresa’s lips pull down in a frown. “That's not very nice, Shawn.”

“Yeah,” he exhales heavily through his nose, pulling away, and decidedly wipes at his face. Teresa wants to tell him it's futile because the waterworks are still wild and he's still crying, but. But she doesn't. “I'm sorry. She's… allowed to fall out of love.”

“Mhmm,” she rubs a hand down his arm, taking her bottom lip between her teeth. She wishes she knew what happened. She wishes she could hug him better, and maybe whip him up a cream cheese sandwich, but it isn't Teresa that Shawn needs. It's an outlet, a dumping ground. And all things considered, Teresa’s weirdly okay with being a dumping ground if it helps someone heal.

“I just— Tess.” He chokes back a sob, running a hand through his hair, fruitlessly tugging at the roots. His face is flushed, and when he moves the neckline of his tee to hunt for a necklace, she sees that so is the rest of him. He's hurting so bad that he looks sick, and so Teresa isn’t surprised when her lip quivers a bit. It's like he's struggling to form a sentence, and when he does, he mumbles it. Like he's admitting it to her, but he wishes he didn't have to. “I… I wish she'd cared about me.”

Teresa’s always been a little overdramatic, but when she says that her heart literally breaks into two at how shattered he sounds, she isn't exaggerating. All soul, all vigour leaves him then, and he defeatedly falls against the wall. Fixes her with an empty stare. “I deserved it.”

“Oh, Shawn,” Teresa whispers, finding herself between his parted legs, hands gently cupping his face. She wipes his tears away, trying ignore how hot his skin feels under hers. She hopes to God he isn't running a fever, and shuffles closer, “Don't say that.”

“It's what she said. I deserved it.”

Teresa’s lost. She doesn't know this girlfriend, and even if she did, how does one respond to that? Who says that, though? Who says that when you've just broken up? Right, she realises not long after, Shawn doesn't even know if he's broken up or not.

His lips part, and Shawn draws in a laboured breath. He's looking at her face, but he isn't there. She can't reach him, even though he's physically in her hands. This entire ordeal has done fucked him up, Teresa concludes. “Do you think.” He blinks, struggling to keep his eyes open. “That she ever loved me?”

He deserves honesty. After what he’s been through and what she knows he’ll continue going through, she owes him that. “I don’t know, Shawn.” She whispers, eyebrows scrunching together, “I wish I did. I so badly wish I did. But listen to me, okay? Whatever happened, you didn’t deserve it, okay? Nobody deserves anything that hits them this hard.” Shawn’s head dips, like he’s trying to deflect. Like he doesn’t believe her. “No, no, Shawn. Listen to me.” She brings his face back up, and she realises that maybe, maybe she was shit at consoling people because she never cared about them. It was always sympathy, never empathy. She realises that now because as she sits there, trying to get him to listen, Teresa feels herself physically coming apart, too. Shawn didn’t deserve this, and he should know that.

“Hi, Shawn, can you hear me? Check check.” She jokingly taps his ear, and he leans into her touch. “Listen to me. I don’t care what she said, alright? I don’t care. You’re my friend and you don’t owe me jackshit yet you’ve always, always been the nicest guy around. You’ve walked me to the building when I was too scared of the dark, you’ve brought extra pens to class because you know I always forget mine, you finished my essay because I fell asleep on my desk after a rough day. Normal guys don’t do that. They don’t do shit if there isn’t something there for them, and yet you always have. You deserve nothing but happiness. Shawn. Do you believe me?” She sniffs, willing herself to continue. “You only deserve love.”

“No.” He tips his head back on the wall, letting his eyes flutter shut. “No, m’nothing but a pretty face. No personality. I get pushed around. What guy lets themself get pushed around? Just a pretty face, nothing else.”

“Shawn—”

“I.. I got punched, once.” He looks her in the eye this time, and Teresa falls back on the floor, bringing her knees up to her chest. Dumping ground, she reminds herself. She needs to let him vent. “And I— I could’ve hit him back. She said that. She said I could’ve hit him back, and I should have. But I didn’t want to. That guy, he… he looked terrible. He’d had a rough day, I could tell. I didn’t want to add to it?”

“That makes you a good guy, not a pushover.”

“No. Real guys don’t take fists to the face and walk away. Only pretty, pushover guys do.”

“That isn’t you talking. It’s her.”

“But she’s right, isn’t it? This wouldn’t have happened if I was a man. She wouldn’t have gone to him and—”

Teresa’s eyes widen, somewhat in realisation, but more so in pain. He’s been cheated on. She isn’t sure, and she’ll probably never be, but it all makes sense now. Why he kept saying he deserved it. Why he couldn’t tell his friends. Why he looks like he’d dressed up for a date, but is outside of her dorm, crying. It all makes a little too much sense, and she finds herself struggling to breathe as she watches him gulp painfully.

“Shawn, buddy, why are you here? Where’s Oliver?”

Shawn’s best friend. Shawn’s supposed to be crying with him, not her. Where is he?

“He—I, we..” And when Shawn scrunches his nose, squeezing his eyes shut to press his tears in, Teresa knows. She knows, and she fucking hates it. “We’re— not… talking. Anymore.”

“Oh my God,” The words fall out of her lips in muted whispers, but she knows Shawn hears. He knows that she knows too, now, and he thought it might come as a relief. It’s all easier if she knows. He doesn’t have to lie, he’s tired of lying, he’s tired of having to pretend like he’s okay. But he sees the switch in her demeanour. He sees her eyes go from empathetic to pitiful, and he knows he’s blown it. He doesn’t what he was expecting any way. For her to hug him better? To make him the cream cheese sandwich she once told him about? He’s so stupid. He’s so stupid and he knows he won’t ever stop blaming himself for what happened, but when Teresa reaches over to pull him into his arms, he lets her. He allows himself to breathe her in and hold her close because he isn’t sure when he’ll have this again. Shawn doesn’t know if he’ll find the warmth that Teresa emanates, the warmth that she used to emanate, without stupidly breaking his own heart again. He doesn’t know, for now, all he knows is that he was unworthy of her. Unworthy of her love, and that he deserved it.

He cries into Teresa’s shoulder, and when he’s all out, he’s so sure he hears her crying too.

im not tagging people because this shit is pretty useless lmao iefmv

#shawn mendes blurb #shawn mendes one shot #Shawn Mendes Imagine #shawn mendes fanfiction #angst #blurb #shawn mendes x oc #tw: cheating

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thirteen-beaxhes · 5 years ago

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Delayed - Chapter 1: All the Roads

Summary: "All felt like they knew the others were far away, living ideal lives. They kept to their windows and phones for the ride, thinking about the others. They reminisced separately but prayed for the night to go by fast, to get to the places they needed to go. But the night hadn’t even begun yet." High school ended 6 years ago, and with it, so did the friendship between Andi, Buffy, Cyrus, Jonah, TJ and Amber. But now their flight is delayed and they are stuck in a hotel together for the night. Not much can change in one night, though. Can it?

AO3 LINK IN REBLOG

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“This sucks,” Buffy groaned down to phone to Marty, who laughed pleasantly in amusement.

“It’s okay Buffy, just a flight delay. It’ll let up,” he said reassuringly.

“No, the flight got cancelled! I have to stay overnight in this hotel they are gonna put up all the people in some hotel,” Buffy said, pinching the bridge of her nose. “I’ll only be able to reach by tomorrow afternoon.”

“That’s okay, Buffy. I’m sure if you call up the company, they will be willing to understand.”

“I guess. It’s just so inconvenient.”

“True. But hey, maybe you’ll get some sleep at this hotel now!” Marty said, trying to get Buffy to lighten up. She appreciated his efforts, letting a small smile form on her face.

“I love you, Marty. The bus is gonna reach in some time,” Buffy said.

“I love you too, Buffy. Get some rest, okay?” Marty said, before Buffy ended the call. She looked around her at the other passengers doomed to her fate. Nothing better than being stuck in a situation with people you don’t know, and will never see again. She sighed and opened her phone, checking her social media. Scrolling through a bit, she landed on a picture of her and Marty from back in high school.

High school. Basketball, milkshakes, the Good Hair Crew. Andi and Cyrus. God, it had been so long. High school friends drift apart, but never had they thought back then that it would happen to them. But happen it did. Buffy sighed, scrolling past the picture, pushing away the memories. Dwelling did no good. Buffy was positive that if her friends saw her today, they wouldn’t recognise the person she had become. And a part of her knew she wouldn’t recognise them either. Shutting off her phone, Buffy leaned against the seat, looking out the window as the announcement for the arrival of the bus rang through the air.

At least the night would pass by quick.

Andi huffed as she threw down her duffel bag and sank into the shitty airport seat as she waited for more information about the transport to the hotel. She hadn’t had any intention of spending her night there, but cancelled flights called for desperate measures. She pushed her sunglasses to the top of her head, unable to use her phone because it decided it was a good time to conk off. She rummaged through the meagre collection of magazines on the stand next to the seats, and settled for a travel magazine. She opened it and began to read from a random page, wanting only to pass the time. Beads of sweat were already forming on the back of her neck. Despite the air conditioning being on full. Maybe a leather jacket was not the best choice.

Andi busied herself in reading about the ‘5 Restaurants You Have to Try in Prague’, turning the pages lazily, every movement betraying disinterest. At one point, she felt someone’s eyes on her. She turned around to see a guy around her age staring at her intently. With that look in his eyes. She knew that look. She had seen that look.

She despised that look.

“The fuck you looking at?” she asked, making a dismissing motion with her hand as she raised her eyebrows at the guy. He just smirked at her.

“Can’t a guy just look?” he said in that voice that exuded faux innocence. It sounded like nails on chalkboards to Andi’s ears.

“Well then, can’t I just connect my fist to your nose?” she asked, smiling at him, her eyes fiery. That got him to look away grumbling, not before he whispered, “Bitch,” under his breath.

Andi rolled her eyes and looked back at the magazine, not before shooting looks at all the people who were staring at her after that incident. “What are you watching? Nothing to see here,” she said, moving her hands as if she were shooing them away.

She hadn’t always been like this, so snappy and angry. She had grown up a sweet, albeit dramatic girl. She had a weird but perfect life all the way till high school, with perfect friends and perfect relationships. But life is a bitch.

So you have to be a bitch to survive.

Cyrus: sorry mom looks like itll be tomorrow when i get a flight

Mom: oh dear okay cyrus. take care of yourself

Mom: see you tomorrow :)

Cyrus sighed and put his phone in his pocket, cursing the building headache that was making its presence very much known. He shut his eyes for a moment, trying to quell the pain. It was then he really regretted not carrying aspiring with him. Ignoring his headache, he looked around observing all the people sitting there waiting for the bus to the hotel. Diagonally across from him was a girl with brown hair just above shoulder length in a leather jacket, sunglasses perched on her head. She was flipping through a travel magazine rather disinterestedly. She had just told off a guy for staring at her, earning some passing comments about her being ‘rude’, but Cyrus was with the girl on this one. Though he didn’t need to voice his support, she had the situation very much under her control.

For some reason, as he caught glimpses of her, Cyrus couldn’t shake the thought that she looked incredibly familiar. He had the feeling that he knew this girl from somewhere, from a distant point in his life. But he couldn’t place her.

He shook his head slightly. It was probably just a passing similarity. He opened his phone for a distraction, noticing an Instagram notification.

cygoodman, see your post from 6 years ago today

Curious, he clicked on the notification and it took him all the way back to senior year of high school, to baby taters and milkshakes. To the Good Hair Crew.

To TJ.

The picture wasn’t spectacular, it was just a slightly shaky selfie taken by Andi, with him, Buffy, Jonah, Marty, Amber. And TJ. Cyrus’ boyfriend. Well, ‘then’ boyfriend.

The picture made Cyrus’ breath catch in his throat, a wistful smile spreading across his face. It had been over 4 years since he had spoken to anyone in that picture. 5 years since he and TJ had practically broken up. 6 years since they left high school.

6 years since they hammered the last nail into the coffin of their childhood friendship.

High school and childhood friendships don’t always last, they all knew that. It came to no one’s surprise when the messages and video calls grew less frequent, they met up less and less. And soon enough, that was it. There was no great fight, no blowout. It just faded with time. Still, Cyrus couldn’t help but feel a pang of nostalgia for his friends. And for TJ.

TJ Kippen waltzing into his life in middle school was the single most unexpected thing to have ever happened to Cyrus. He came in a cold jock, but it didn’t take Cyrus long to see through the cracks to see the soft side, the kind and caring side. With TJ, Cyrus felt like he could do anything, which was saying a lot. With TJ, nothing was impossible. TJ burned bright like the sun, and for some reason, he saw the moon in Cyrus. But of course, high school ends, and so do high school sweethearts. In the end, it wasn’t an explosion that ended them. It was radio silence. But a part of Cyrus missed him deeply. It was probably why he hadn’t been in a serious relationship since TJ, settling only for the casual and running at the first sign of more.

Where could they all be? Probably further away than he could imagine.

“Okay I kinda wish now we didn’t meet up and decide to get this flight together,” TJ groaned as he started to gather his things from around the seat.

Amber scoffed, rolling her eyes. “Please, TJ. You’re grateful I’m here with you, or else you wouldn’t know anyone.”

TJ simply looked away, knowing very well that Amber was right. They were both heading back to Shadyside to meet their parents, and TJ was both dreading and looking forward to it. On one hand, it had been 5 years since he had last been in Shadyside, so it would be good to see the place where he had grown up. But on the other hand, he was dreading his mother pestering him about his non-existent love life. He had only been in 2 real relationships, and only one of them was even worth remembering. But remembering was painful. How fitting that the place he was going back to was also the place that held the memories of that relationship at every corner.

Cyrus Goodman was, and always had been, an enigma to TJ Kippen. He had swung into his life, almost literally, with his soft encouraging smiles and reassuring words, making TJ feel like maybe, letting his guard down wouldn’t mean the monsters would get to him faster. Cyrus had shaken him to the core in the best way possible, and God alone knows how someone as incredible as him could ever have fallen for someone like TJ. Their ups and downs had only made them stronger, but eventually, some downs are just too hard to come back from. College means drifting apart, it means leaving those people behind. It was practically mutual, but it didn’t mean that the memories didn’t come with that mixture of warmth and a sting.

“Yo, TJ,” Amber said, snapping her fingers in front of TJ’s face, bringing him out of his thoughts. “We’re leaving now.”

TJ nodded, taking his bags and following Amber out of the gate to the bus.

Probably better to leave the memories back in Shadyside so he could finally truly move on.

Emily: I miss you

Emily: maybe we made a mistake

Amber didn’t need to open her phone to read the messages again. They were burned into the back of her mind. With every step she took forward, the words inched closer to her heart. It didn’t help that just above those messages were the ones where Emily was telling her, ‘I just don’t feel the same way anymore,’ and, ‘It’s not you, it’s me’.

Bullshit. It was always her.

Amber couldn’t believe that Emily even had the balls to send her a message saying she missed her. After she had brutally ripped her heart out and stepped on it with her signature Converse sneakers. That had been a month ago, and it took everything in Amber to try and piece herself back together. That was also part of the reason she was content in returning to Shadyside for a while. She needed a break, and going home seemed the best option. She needed to find herself again. As dramatic as that sounded.

TJ, who was walking next to her, purposely bumped into her, forcing her to smack him upside the head. But she was glad he was there. She didn’t know if she could handle the memories of going home alone.

As she loaded her luggage into the bus, she let her mind wander to Emily. Was it a surprise she liked her? Not at all. She was exactly her type. Brown-haired, sweet and sunshiney personality, and proficient at crafts. There had been one person before her, but that was just a crush, and left at that.

Andi Mack.

Amber smiled to herself, thinking about Andi. Her bracelets, her dressing style, her smile, her laugh. While Amber had crushed on her from afar, that didn’t erase the fact that Andi had become a really good friend of hers. She had helped her change from being the stereotypical mean girl, to being a girl who was tough but let people in. Amber wanted nothing more than to pick up her phone and talk to Andi, reminisce on the old times. But that wasn’t going to happen. They had parted ways. Life had taken them on different paths.

Paths that would never intersect.

Jonah Beck got onto the bus, carefully clutching his guitar close to him. His suitcase had been stowed away, and he stared out of the window blankly. His hands were shaking slightly, the flight cancellation putting his on the edge. His breaths were growing incredibly unsteady, and he couldn’t let it get out of control. He pulled on the sleeves of his jacket, scratching himself in the process. Ultimately, opened his wallet and pulled out a highly crumpled picture from it, and smoothed it out, the sight of it immediately calming him down.

It was a Polaroid he, Cyrus, Andi and Buffy had taken the last day of high school. Even though he no longer spoke to them, and their paths had diverged long ago, that picture was one of the only things that truly made Jonah feel at ease. He looked at it so often that the creases were growing at an alarming rate. But he didn’t care. It went with him wherever he would go.

Loosely clutching onto the picture, he looked out the window as the bus moved, thinking about their whole friend group. Andi, Buffy, Cyrus, Amber, TJ, Marty. Where were they? What were they doing? He knew they would probably be far, far away, living their perfect lives. He smiled to himself, just wishing they all also missed high school, even if it was just for a second. He leaned against the window, closing his eyes, falling into a restless sleep until the bus reached the hotel.

As the evening progressed slowly into night, Andi, Buffy, Cyrus, TJ, Amber and Jonah sat in the bus to the hotel, all starting out thinking about their broken, messed up, confused lives. And all of their trains of thoughts leading to the same station. Them in high school.

All felt like they knew the others were far away, living ideal lives. They kept to their windows and phones for the ride, thinking about the others. They reminisced separately, but prayed for the night to go by fast, to get to the places they needed to go.

But the night hadn’t even begun yet.

~~~~~~~~

So I got this idea like a while ago, and I'm finally writing it! This is another multi-chapter, so let's do this kids.

HMU if you wanna be tagged in future updates! It may take time to update, with the au and stuff.

#andi mack #fanfiction #buffy driscoll #cyrus goodman #tj kippen #jonah beck #marty from the party #amber kippen #amber #andi #muffy #tyrus #ambi #jandi #delayed fic #my fic #fanfic

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honeyandfiregame · 5 years ago

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Fuck that anon. Changing the subject entirely, can u tell me about this diet of yours? If it helps u maybe itll help me!

It’s the keto diet. You’ve probably heard of it because it’s gotten pretty trendy lately, which is good because now there’s actually some prepackaged food products out there for it, which there wasn’t when I started this diet, but annoying too because there’s also companies trying to jump on the bandwagon with the ‘keto’ label without actually knowing how keto works and people not knowing how keto works is spreading misinformation and misconceptions. Look on ruled.me for a lot of real information about the keto diet (and also a lot of yummy recipes!) and just in general you should totally do plenty of research before changing your diet, to make sure it’s right for you and what you want out of it. Don’t stick to something that makes you feel bad.

But I digress. I started keto to lose a little weight and it really helped with that, but the longer I was on it, the better I felt. Though there’s a lot of butter and cheese and just general fat in this (delicious) diet, I was also eating a lot of meat and fresh vegetables and not any of the garbage I’d been eating before (which I’ve been eating lately). I had more energy. I stopped snacking because it kept me full between meals, I was more productive. I just felt good.

Our money situation was kind of why we weren’t able to get back on keto for a long time, so it can be a little difficult when you’re on a budget. But even then, without those fancy recipes on that website being an only once in a while thing, we were perfectly fine just having some of meat and a salad for lunch and dinner, it was simple and filling, and made sure to get enough fat for the day if that wasn’t enough (fat shakes were my favorite way to do that. Just a super rich, chocolate-y “milk”shake for dessert yummm)

and there’s another little piece of info I’ll put under a cut because I’m not quite comfortable talking about it, but would probably be good to know for someone with a uterus

I have not seen a doctor to get a proper diagnosis just yet, but it is more than likely that I have PCOS and that is one of the biggest reasons I want to get back on keto. My period was still painful and I still bled a LOT (you know those huge extra heavy overnight pads? I go through a full pack on my period. Off keto, I’ve been going through a pack and a half) but it made my period a lot more manageable, especially by helping to make my cycle a lot more consistent.

I think that’s all I have to say. I can try to offer a little more info about my personal experience, especially since actually starting keto for the first time was hard on me, if y’all have any questions.

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praesidiumsystem-blog · 5 years ago

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tw c*csa

im standing in the middle of a gravel road, it’s a dead end. my extended family lives here in the woods, half an hour drive from civilization. my cousins are playing in the with road some of the neighbour girls that live down the street, i’m 6 years old. i’m wearing a striped shirt i really like, with frills at the bottom.

she runs up to me and shoves my arm and runs away shrieking and laughing “you have cooties!” this is a game of tag, which i am no good at. in hindsight i wonder if the “cooties” tag game was a reference to avoiding people who have STDs. i wonder what “cooties” are, but based on the context i figure it must not be good, because everyone’s running away from me before i’ve even started chasing back. her name is n*cole ev*rett. she’s 8. i’ll see her every summer vacation until i turn 12 or so. she’ll be my best friend away from my best friend, both of which will abuse me. she will be the lesser of two evils.

she stays the night with me at my aunts house, i stay the night with her at her parents house. she has one older sister and one younger sister, the latter of which is adopted and is very socially awkward. my cousins sleep in a pair of bunk beds. josh on the top, me on the bottom, porsche on the top of the other bunk, and mack on the bottom. they will all bully me and make me hate myself before i turn 10. we start playing things like truth or dare. no one ever suggests a dare because everyone knows this game is for revealing who you have a crush on. no one wants to tell. the noise of the box fan in the doorway lulls me to sleep night after night, it’s too hot to breathe. my stomach churns with anxiety. i don’t like anyone. i am afraid. i am afraid of everyone.

we stay up too late giggling and get in trouble a hundred times. they separate us a hundred times, and we sulk a hundred times. she’s funny and she makes me so happy. she kisses me with cherry chapstick on, the pressure of someone else’s lips strange on mine at 6 years old. no one knows, and she knows i wont tell, because she knows im afraid of everyone. she doesnt want me to be afraid of her.

summers pass. her parents are never home at night because they’re both overnight p*lice officers, and they sleep all day, krista and autumn are always out with their friends. she rubs her hands up under my shirt and brushes over my chest. my heart is in my throat.and i feel sick with anxiety and i don’t know what to call anxiety yet so my head swims and im terrified. i feel uncomfortable because i dont think you’re supposed to touch other people there. she rubs my stomach and moves her hand between my legs and feels around. she kisses me again with cherry chapstick, pushing her warm wet tongue between my lips.i would be frozen with fear if i werent shaking so much. she tells me not to be afraid, its just practice. practice for what, i cant imagine at 10 years old, but she wants to help me. she’s funny and makes me so happy. i try to stay inside my body but i know this isnt right. i say nothing. she knows i wont tell, because she knows im afraid of everyone. she doesnt want me to be afraid of her.

another school year passes, another summer comes. she tells me to touch her, too. it’s just practice. she moves my hand over her chest until i learn to do it on my own. she pushes my hand between her legs until i learn to do it on my own. she tells me im improving. despite the terror churning in my belly that someone will come in, or her parents will wake up, and they’ll call me disgusting and tell me its my fault and tell my mother im doing bad things, i feel like i want to keep improving at whatever it is im supposed to be getting better at. night, after night, after night, summer after summer after summer, i want to get better. i want to be told that the fear is worth it.

she moves away. i don’t get to say goodbye. year after year passes, a hollow forming slowly in my stomach like a black hole, eating away at the edges of my mind. did it really happen? was i making a big deal out of nothing? is that something everyone does? is everyone else not afraid when they do it? i cant ask. i cant risk my mother finding out i did something bad, she’ll hit me. i dont want to be hit. in fact, i dont want to be touched at all, ever again. long pants it is. long jackets in summer it is. i try to stay inside my body. im empty.

year after year, again and again, more doubt seeps in, slowly dripping into my memories, obscuring them. maybe it wasnt that bad and im overreacting. maybe itll pay off somehow, even though no one else has initiated that kind of thing with me all this time. pants turn into the same pair of jeans i wear every day for 3 years. my grey sweater becomes my safe space, so much so that my friends always draw me wearing it. some part of me feels like i’m naked all the time, no matter how much i’m wearing. people can see the shape of my body and its so, so ugly, couldnt be uglier. i cant hide nearly as much as i want to. i cant stop being in the body i have as much as i want to. it was so long ago, it shouldnt matter to me anymore, i try to stop worrying about it. relief by forgetting almost comes.

she moves back. i’m in high school, still wearing jeans, even to bed, but sporting tshirts these days. my grandmother says i should go say hello. the same sickness churns in my stomach, i dont think i can see her again, but there’s so many questions i want answered. i knock, the floor of the trailer is still warped. the wallpaper is the same. her parents are still cops and are still gone 12 hours of the day. i sit on her floor and she flops onto her bed, turning on the t.v. she starts telling me about all the relationships she’s had and the boys she’s fucked. everything in her room seems to have cherries on it. she still smells like cherry chapstick. my mouth is bone dry and i cant look at her.

we’re sitting on my cousins trampoline, the same night, a cherry lollipop in her mouth. i ask her, if she remembers, What We Did, before. this is the only question i manage to ask. a long beat of silence, my heart slowly suffocating me sitting still in my throat, hammering hard. “yeah,” she says, “i’m sorry” i anticipate all of the anxiety and fear and self loathing to disappear into the aether because she’s sorry, i cant believe it, ive wanted this for so long,but my heart sinks back into my chest, and down into my stomach, and out my feet, into the earth, into the core of the earth, melting into the core. “thank you,” i say. i don’t feel better. i don’t feel better at all. i never see her again.

a year or two later, i’m in my moms car that i’m driving, and i hear a song start on the radio. it sounds like a boy singing, but for some reason the theme is about kissing a girl and it being a really weird thing to do, and i figure a woman must be singing. the chorus starts, “the taste of her cherry chapstick” sinks into my ears and melts inside my skull, im swimming, swimming. “you’re my experimental game”, my body is copying itself, there’s me in the driver seat, me in the middle ,me in the passenger seat, me outside the car, repeating, repeating. everywhere i go afterward this pop sensation seems to be playing. i figure there must be a thousand of me by now, creeping outside my body, getting further and further from the epicenter of my pain.

“i kissed a girl”, or rather, a girl kissed me, and i didnt like it. why didnt i like it? maybe im broken after all.

#[quentin]#[memories]

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hyucksbf · 6 years ago

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its a tag game

yo guys guess what time it is :^)

so @chogiwavibes tagged me to do this game,, thanks for tagging me !!!

rules: tag 15 people u wanna get to know better

relationship status: single

fave colors: pink and orange! specifically baby pink + tiger orange!!

lipstick or chapstick: chapstick bc my lips are always dry and dehydrated hell yeA

three fave foods: pasta, specifically alfredo mmmm,, nd then shrimp and lobster but if u combine all three then it sends me to another demension

song stuck in my head: we go up AND DEAR DREAM IM STILL SAD

last song i listened to: beakhyun and loco’s young !! good shit !!!!

last movie i watched: i was watchin smth on tv with my dad recently but i don’t remember what it was i think it was either an avengers or transformers movie ??

top 3 tv shows: haikyuu, sense8, agents of shield ? at the moment i guess

books i’m currently reading: the iliad,, uhh thats it rn lmfao but im gonna read the odyssy after bc it’s one big edition that includes both

last thing i googled: hartt school of music lmao

time: isn’t real

how many blankets do u sleep in: rn it’s two bc its hot but when winter comes itll be like 5

dream trip: i wanna go on an overnight trip somewhere by ourselves w my friends, both in my grade and my underclassmen friends, before i graduate, preferably somewhere w bunk beds and near a beach ?? just somewhere we can all relax and have fun together

anything you want: all my friends to be happy! also nct dream first ot7 win!

ok im gonna tag: @eunseoki @haechanti @hyuckiesgf @2monstax @1ongride @choerrybot @myfirstandlast @bigcatjohnny

#shfkkhhakhf im tagging people ive never tagged before sorry if im being annoying #tag game

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dreamyarcana · 7 years ago

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Get To Know The Mun Meme

hewwo everyone!! I was tagged in several memes, so I’ll be posting those throughout the weekend c: (1/3 memes)

Tagged by: @mosaic-marquise, @thefoxylexyblog, @rimarza and @line-artsy (THANK YOU!!)

1ST RULE: Tag 9 people you want to get to know better (if you guys haven’t done it already or want to!!)

Tagging: I know this circled around pretty well, haha, so I apologize if you’ve already been tagged/done it

@vesuvian-apprentice @murielswife @thesilverarmada @roll-2-seduce @axuhaslostit @asrasfluffycloud @therowdyravens

2ND RULE: BOLD the statements that are true

APPEARANCE:

I am 5'7" or taller (i’m a 5′2 gremlin)

I wear glasses (most of the time!)

I have at least one tattoo

I have at least one piercing

I have blonde hair

I have brown eyes (technically)

I have short hair (it’s down to my butt, basically)

My abs are at least somewhat defined (lol not me, literally gym class is my workout XD)

I have or have had braces (glad I’m done with those lmao, throwback to the time where I bitched so much bc I couldn’t have popcorn XD)

PERSONALITY: I love meeting new people

People tell me that I’m funny (sometimes)

Helping others with their problems is a big priority for me

I enjoy physical challenges (lol)

I enjoy mental challenges

I’m playfully rude with people I know well (i am to one of my best irl friends. we like push each other around and i punch him, he’s the guy who wrote me the poem i posted awhile ago)

I started saying something ironically and now I can’t stop saying it

ABILITY: I can sing well

I can play an instrument (Piano/flute)

I can do over 30 push-ups without stopping (HAHA)

I’m a fast runner

I can draw well (I’ve loved drawing ever since I was a tiny baby person)

I have a good memory (to an extent~)

I’m good at doing math in my head (occasionally)

I can hold my breath underwater for over a minute (Barely)

I have beaten at least 2 people in arm wrestling

I know how to cook at least 3 meals from scratch

I know how to throw a proper punch

HOBBIES:

I enjoy playing sports

I’m on a sports team at my school or somewhere else

I’m in an orchestra or choir at my school or somewhere else

I have learned a new song in the past week

I work out at least once a week

I’ve gone for runs at least once a week in the warmer months

I have drawn something in the past month 👀 I enjoy writing

Fandoms are my #1 passi

on (well, they kind of are sometimes xD)

I do or have done martial arts

EXPERIENCES

I have had my first kiss (I'm l a m e I know)

I have had alcohol (it smells super gross, so no?)

I have scored the winning goal in a sports game

I have watched an entire season of a TV show in one sitting (Game of Thrones)

I have been at an overnight event

I have been in a taxi

I have been in the hospital or ER in the past year

I have beaten a video game in one day

I have visited another country

I have been to one of my favourite bands’ concerts

RELATIONSHIPS:

I’m in a relationship

I have a crush on a celebrity (hmmm, various celebrities…mild. 🤔 )

I have a crush on someone I know

I have been in at least 3 relationships (well, technically)

I have never been in a relationship

I have asked someone out or admitted my feelings to them

I get crushes easily

I have had a crush on someone for over a year

I have been in a relationship for at least a year

I have had feelings for a friend (OKAY GUYS LESSON OF THE YEAR: DONT EVER DATE YOUR FRIENDS UNLESS YOURE GOING TO MARRY THEM, IVE LEARNED THIS BY PERSONAL EXPIRENCES LIKE TWICE? AND LIKE FO U R OUT OF THE TINY FRIEND GROUP THAT CONSISTS OF A MAXIMUM 10 PEOPLE HAVE MADE THIS MISTAKE ITLL SAVE YOU A LOT OF GRIEF)

MY LIFE:

I have at least one person I consider a “best friend”

I live close to my school

My parents are still together

I have at least one sibling

I live in the United States

There is snow right now where I live

I have hung out with a friend in the past month

I have a smartphone

I have at least 15 CDs

I share my room with someone

RANDOM SHIT:

I have breakdanced

I have had a teacher with a last name that’s hard to pronounce

I have dyed my hair

I’m listening to one song on repeat right now

I have punched someone in the past week

I know someone who has gone to jail

I have broken a bone

I have eaten a waffle today

I know what I want to do with my life ( L O L )

I speak at least 2 languages (kind of French, English)

#tagged #personal

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myorganiczone-blog · 7 years ago

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Dead sea mud mask Reviews

REVIEWS FOR DEAD SEA MUD MASK

Debbie Farmer – August 26, 2017

I love this dead sea mud mask. It arrived fairly quickly

I love it. It arrived fairly quickly. I have used it twice now, and my skin feels so good when it is on. I didn’t put it on thick either. After rinsing off, it does leave a bit of a mess in the sink, but easily cleaned out. My face is smooth and not dry. I will order again, and keep using this product.

Princia Gangnon – August 14, 2017

Amazing product! Get it asap

Amazing dead sea mud mask ! Get it asap. It cleans and brightens my face like no other mask has done before. I feel like the more you use it the better the results because at first i had some breakouts but i soon realized that they disappeared after the next use. I use it twice a week.

Angela Smithon – June 2, 2017

Five Stars Love the way my skin feels after using this dead sea mud mask

My face felt refreshed and looked smooth and younger! Easy to use!

Joe Arienda – May 26, 2017

Five Stars for great product and hassle free transaction. i would recommend

great product and hassle free transaction. i would recommend This dead sea mud mask . It is really a special product. I’ve tried other mud masks but wasn’t keen on them until I tried this one. Great price point for a very high quality product!! 5/5

Susan Kuczkowski – May 8, 2017

This dead sea mud mask is amazing!

Love how soft it leaves your skin when used. This has helped “soothe” inflamed, itching, dry, acne prone skin for both myself (over 50) and my son (20). We have used as directed (weekly) and also as a “spot treatment” (daily) to help soothe and reduce the inflamed odd acne outbreak spots or stubborn acne spots. I would completely recommend and continue to use. Applied thin to allow to dry out (mask, weekly). No need to apply “thick”.

Shumaila K – May 7, 2017

dead sea mud mask is just awesome!!!!!!!!!!

I bought for my brother in law and he lives in a humid hot country and even then it is working Great!!!!!!! It is a great product and i think all skin type should try one

Gisel Ray – April 16, 2017

Great enjoy using this dead sea mud mask 3 times a week

Great enjoy using it 3 times a week for the last 2 weeks. But maybe too soon to see a difference. But i will keep using it for a while to see if it makes a difference.

Karley – March 31, 2017

If you’re looking for a safe mud mask for sensitive skin (I’m also acne prone AND oily) it’s wonderful, a treat to put on

Moisturizes and purifies my sensitive skin. Doesn’t dry out your skin or become tight when it dries. My face feels fresher and softer afterwards without residue. If you’re looking for a safe mask for sensitive skin (I’m also acne prone AND oily) this dead sea mud mask is wonderful, a treat to put on!

Gaby – March 29, 2017

Really amazing dead sea mud mask Half the price of others and works way better, i really loved this mud mask

i really loved this mud mask. Ive bought other mud masks and even more expensive ones but this one i felt worked way better then the others and it was half their price. other mud masks are very expensive due to their brand name and dont even work as good. I really recommend this mud mask especially for the price. Itll make your skin glow and soo smooth and bring out your pores and pimples. Just put it on and rest up for an hour!

Kaitlyn B – February 28, 2017

Great dead sea mud mask product for my My overall skin

I ordered this mask after noticing the great list of ingredients compared to similar masks on Amazon. This mask is amazing I use it every 3 days I love how it leaves my skin soft and definitely takes away dead skin cells improving My overall skin. Highly recommend

Tray – February 11, 2017

dead sea mud mask with No overnight fix but real results

This was my first “mud mask” as a guy. I wanted something to tighten and clean my face and this was what I needed. After washing away the product I immediately noticed how fresh and so clean (not like the Outkast song) my face was. Definitely worth the money

David MacDonald – January 18, 2017

A Male Mud Mask!

Super nice mask, does not flake that much when dry on skin. I like the black color. Good masks for guys. Makes for really smooth skin!

Vanessa – January 6, 2017

My first time buying this dead sea mud mask but i absolutely love it. I’ve used it three times in the past week

it was my first time buying this product but i absolutely love it. I’ve used it three times in the past week and it already started helping my face clear up. Definitely going to buy it again.

Heather G – January 5, 2017

This dead sea mud mask works great, my skin is always dry in the winter and this mud mask worked for me

This product works great, my skin is always dry in the winter and even with moisturizer it still tends to flake up a little. This product is creamy and leaves my skin soft and helps with the dryness allot more than my usual face cleanser.

STEPHIE GIRL – December 6, 2016

Wonderful Mus Mask product! Pure and natural dead sea mud mask

Wonderful product! Pure and natural. Smells great. Goes on smooth. Washes off easily. My skin was very refreshed! I am an Esthetician and only use the very best on my body. This meets those standards!

Andrea Mandelbaum – November 23, 2016

Got this dead sea mud mask quickly and is far superior to other clays and mud masks I’ve used previously

Shipped quickly and is far superior to other clays and mud Masks I’ve used previously. Goes on super smooth and rinses off easily, very creamy texture and made my skin soft and supple. Highly recommend. And at just 18$ it’s a fraction of the cost of designer products that are full of harsh chemicals and only make your skin worse.

R. CACERES – November 4, 2016

Five Stars for this dead sea mud mask

Very cleansing and leaves my skin soft and moisturized

Jimmy – October 8, 2016

dead sea mud mask Smells great, works fine

Smells great, works fine, came promptly. Really have no complaints. It is applied easily and comes off easily, and it leaves the skin really soft and smooth, even for skin with more acne.

Lindsay C – August 23, 2016

Skin feels so great after using this dead seam mud mask

Skin feels so great after using this. If you have clogged pores or oily skin this is definitely a must have. I purchased this with the Vitamin C Serum from My Organic Zone and the two products work wonders when used together. Will buy together again when need be.

Jonathan E – July 19, 2016

Great compliment to my face & skin! dead sea mud mask by my organic zone

I like the dead sea mud mask from My Organic Zone. It doesn’t irritate my skin nor does it overdry my skin after rinsing the mask with warm water. I generally use it twice a week after washing my face with my favorite liquid soap. Overall, so far so good! No complaints from me!

JC Prescotton – July 18, 2016

Dead Sea Mud Mask was very smooth, easy to put on.

Really good product. I have used many different mud mask over the years and I have been really pleased with the results of the Dead-Sea-Mud-Mask. I don’t have a problem with acne but my face tends to be on the oily side. The mask was very smooth, easy to put on and had a cool sensation on my face. It washed off well and left my face feeling cool,less oily, clean and very soft. I have absolutely nothing negative to say about this product. I can’t speak for long term results yet, but I will say that I will continue to use it.

Ricon – July 17, 2016

Mud mask with a lot of great benefits – Apply this dead sea mud mask twice a week

My skin feels so smooth after using this stuff! I have wanted to try dead sea mud for a long time now and I’m glad I finally got to try this stuff and that it works. When you read all the ingredients in it, it really starts to make you see that they put a lot of time and care into what they are making. I’ve only used if a few times but already I know that I am going to continue using this product for a long time.

Cyndi – May 5, 2016

Dead Sea Mud Mask by My Organic Zone is an incredible mud mask

Dead Sea Mud Mask is an awesome mud, at least to me. It came securely wrapped on the outside & had a protective thin lid under the main lid to prevent spillage. The first thing I noticed & liked was the smell. To me, it has a nice fresh scent. I applied this after I washed my face & left it on for about 15 min. I patted dry & my skin looked refreshed and felt smooth. It helped to really let my moisturizer ‘sink in’. Would purchase and/or recommend this mud mask

Gigi Sutton – April 30, 2016

Great Dead Sea Mud Mask, actually exceeded my expectations.

My skin is dry, not normally sensitive, but I am aging and fighting it every step of the way. In this battle, I have a bathroom full of less than effective weapons. Like any other woman I have tried many dead sea mud mask products promising to be the fountain of youth and guarantee to take our face back to visit our younger image in the mirror. I was pleasantly surprised to find the fragrance pleasing and the texture creamy and light. I have used other mud masks in the past that when dry you almost had to blast to remove. Not the case with dead sea mask by My Organic Zone. i lay down to rest while it dried after 15 minutes, I was certain that removing was going to be next to impossible. Not true it rinsed away easily and for a first use I was pleased with the results. The texture of my skin seemed smoother, my pores appeared smaller and the overall luminance was brighter. dead sea mud mask by My Organic Zone is a wonderful mud Mask product and exceeded my expectations in every way.

Noahz – April 19, 2016

You may need to hide this Dead Sea Mud Mask

I have tried various mud masks in the past and although some are great, others just are terrible. My Organic Zone Dead Sea Mud Mask is one of the good mud mask I have applied on my face. It has good set of ingredients and does not have “tingling” or eucalyptus feeling when drying but feels like it is drawing out the bad stuff as it dries. After using my face feels clean and refreshed.

#dead sea mud #dead sea #dead sea mud mask #benefits of dead sea mud mask #reviews #dead sea mud mask reviews

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yande-re-blog1 · 8 years ago

Text

Life Update

So, I did say on here that i was moving to san antonio for the summer, maybe longer, but due to what happened the night before i moved out, im not going back to illinois.

here’s a video of what happened, after the worst of it had already passed, for anyone who is curious or doubts me.

basically, that video was taken after my stepmother got home from indiana from her overnight trip. anyone whos followed me for a while probably knows that i have some issues with her

as soon as she got home, she completely tore into me. that video was after the worst of it, actually, and the worst of it was around the time that she made me get on a scale and made fun of me for my weight (as a note, she’s incredibly overweight, im average and have gained about 10 lbs from hormones), screamed “FUCK YOU!” at me and then got mad at me for cursing when i asked my dad “what the hell did i do??”, and then told me i should go sleep in the car and nearly made me do it. she told me that im taking advantage of my partner and his family and that i have no responsibility or drive and that im crazy and that this won’t work out. she told me im disrespectful and terrible and that no one will want me and that spawned a lot of bad body issues that ive been dealing with for the past week.

the video i linked was taken when she started screaming about how she was going to go through my things since i hadnt yet cleaned out my drawers. for context, she never told me to do this, and it was also 10 pm and i had to catch a flight at 8 am the next day which means getting up at 4 am since im autistic and airports are hard for me and i need to be there early. i was tired and she hadn’t told me to do this before and as you can hear in the video, i started begging for her not to go through my things. she ended up doing so anyways and i had a full-on breakdown afterwards. other stuff happened that night but it was along the same lines as this.

everything got better once i was at the airport. there was literally no trouble. i got a wheelchair and someone to help me since my ticket was labelled with ‘intellectual disability’ (id called ahead the night before to tell them about my disability). the flight went fine. i touched down at about 11 am in san antonio and it was so warm and nice and my boyfriend was there to help me with my bags. we talked for a long time since he’d helped me through my anxiety attack the night before after all the screaming, and we met up with his sister (who i love). i showed them the video i took and they looked--horrified? idk if that’s the right word for it. and then i started tellng them about everything else. they both told me that they want me to live in texas full time and i said id look into schooling and everything.

and, well, it’s great here. i fucking love it. my in laws are awesome people. my sister in law and i hang out all the time and i call my partner’s mother ‘mom’ and i get to hang out with him all the time too. i have my own space as well and the weather here is nice and warm and there’s 4 cats to keep me company too. im in the process of getting all the details worked out (for example, they live in a strong gated community so im confined to a 1 mile radius when im alone until they can get me on the list of residents, shouldnt be long though). the school here looks like it’s able to transfer 3 years worth of credits and im working on finding a job. everything is actually pretty great. the only bad thing is that my allergies have gone absolutely nuts, but that’s calming down a little. i think it’s just due to me being a northerner suddenly moving about as far south as the US gets (i only pray that im not allergic to cats)

my mental health has been a lot better. im a lot happier. ive started reading and collecting books again. i do think about my body image a lot though because of the weight stuff my stepmother said and im terrified that if im not attractive then ill be sent back to illinois which i know no one would do and i know that sounds shallow but w/e. ive been having a ton of nightmares about that sort of stuff (having to go back to illinois) but i can imagine that stuff will get better with time.

ive decided that im going to get accepted to the college here and work out all my work and credit stuff and then write a letter of no contact to my step mother. ive decided to be very politely aggressive--different from passive aggressive, basically saying exactly what i think but leaving out all the swears--during it and will bring up specific things, such as asking her if she thinks it was really appropriate for her to make fun of my weight and asking if she’d be alright with someone saying that to her and asking whether or not she thinks it’s alright to call your child a bitch for not wanting to text every morning. itll have to be after i get everything worked out, though.

overall, im very happy. i still have some work to do but im in a much better place than i have been. i made a decision to fuck everything and leave and im not going to turn back. sometimes, i think, there doesn’t have to be a lot of planning. sometimes you’ve just had enough and it’s time to go. i hit that point the night before i was supposed to leave. fuck living like that. im not going back.

#lms if you read #or reply #replies are very cool actually

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kristie-rp · 6 years ago

Text

Promise

Triggers: Suicide mention, drug mention, overdose mention, prostitution, gun mention, kidnapping

“I’ll take care of you,” she had promised. She can’t regret the oath, but she does regret what it drove her to, the desperate need to prove she could keep the promise.

Kara gets into prostitution because her little brother is eleven when the last of their parents vanish. She is seventeen, and she knows enough to be aware that the big motivator in Blacklight is money, and when her dad ran out, this is what happens: there’s no point trying to force a payment from a man with his head barely above water. She knows without a body being found that he is dead. Kara has her savings, her college fund, and that’s it. It’s not enough for two kids to live off, and her part-time job at a clothing store isn’t going to keep them afloat, and no one she wants her brother anywhere near is going to hire an eleven year old.

So – so she starts to prostitute herself, an amateur working cheap by Blacklight standards. She learns how much to charge without drawing complaints, she learns how to balance senior year and ‘work’, and she learns that many clients will pay more for the thrill of her being so much younger than the average whore. Enable a fetish and the cash goes up, enough to pay for school, for food, for a roof. At eighteen she gets sole custody of Lionel, legally, without complaint. She fucks the judge to get it through quick, once they get caught by the system.

She spends too long in the bathroom, driving the water bill up and up and scrubbing her skin raw in an attempt to get clean. Lionel is twelve, and she’s learned enough now to know how to draw lines, how to enforce them without losing clients. He knows what she does, he knows how much she hates it, but she doesn’t bring her work home and he can’t complain, however much he might want to.

Eighteen is when the pimp for her district finds out about her working solo, cutting into his profits. Eighteen is when Craig gets his hands on her, and really, he’s not so bad, except taking off some of her profits. She explains to him her situation, barely thinking it’ll work but convinced it’s worth a try – and he listens. He gives her specific times to work, promises he’ll take only ten percent, a fixed rate. It’s – it’s not good, but it’s not bad, she’s got repeat clients who are sleazier than Craig.

And then Faust finds out about her.

“So you’re the infamous Caramel,” are his first words to her.

She’s standing as still as she knows how, wearing something revealing beneath a heavy, cheap coat. She’s going for allure, even though she’s just a little too far from curvy for the effect to work as she intends; this is her ‘uniform’, what she wears when she’s out during the hours Craig assigns.

“I’m whoever you need me to be, baby,” she says. Her voice is a rasp, quiet, but not subdued. There is a confidence in her tone that many whores have lost by the end of their first year – but she cannot afford to become less of a person, not with Lionel at home depending on her, not with so many people willing to take advantage of her.

Faust circles like a vulture, and she knows she is being judged. She keeps her eyes partially shut, as though heavily lidded, and watches him with pursed lips painted in a discounted dark pink. He’s not actually that old at this point, though definitely older than her – she guesses him to be around thirty, much younger than her year-dead father. He’s not bad looking, either. It won’t be a struggle to act like she likes it when he inevitably goes down on her, even if what follows is her usual routine of scathing hot water and too-long in the shower, worrying a brother who is getting more and more withdrawn in turn.

“I’ll pay you triple,” he says at last, “to stay overnight. I get twenty-five percent of your cut from clients who aren’t me.”

Kara raises a brow at him. “Craig might have something to say about that.” She doesn’t say that this is a rip off, that she’s not going to jump ship from her fantastic deal just because he offers better pay to start

Faust’s smile is soft, but there’s something in his eyes that stands out to her – something dangerous. Something that tells her this man is not a nice man, as if she hadn’t guessed from an awareness of who he is. “Craig can’t say much once he’s dead.”

Her blood runs cold, but she steps closer to him. He doesn’t back down; she runs a hand up his chest and grips the gaudy tie he is wearing, something only a Blacklight local would like. She doesn’t smile, but she peers at him from beneath the fake eyelashes she is wearing only for this meeting. The effect is that she is playing coy, with any luck. “Whatever you say, boss,” she breathes, and drags him down to kiss her.

She can never pick out individual moments of her time with Faust, not in hindsight. It’s either a self-defence mechanism or a consequence of everything blurring together.

After that first meeting with her, he puts a pimp, loyal to him and more obedient than Craig proved to be, in charge of the whores. The new pimp is an asshole in every way except physically; he does not do anything that might bruise. But the verbal and psychological, the demeaning, the ripping off all of them – Kara is the only one whose cut never changes, because she is not afraid to talk money with Faust, and she talked him into writing up a contract that means he takes a profit from her, not the new pimp, and only a set amount. It’s not good, and for the first time she wonders if maybe things with Craig were better than she thought – and those drained her of everything she had.

If she believed in gods, this would be about where she’d start praying.

She comes home the day of her brothers fourteenth birthday with a little cake and a spring in her step, for once. Faust has promised her the weekend off, written it into another contract in what she knows is both a power play and a source of amusement for him; his little whore with her obsession with promises being kept. She doesn’t care that he mocks her for this, because promises are the only thing she can keep.

“Hey, Li? You home?”

The front door is locked, but not deadlocked; she knows he is. He’s good at keeping safe, good at following rules a lot of people in Blacklight take for granted or ignore. Kara smiles to herself: it’s a Friday, and she doesn’t have to do any work until Monday, and this is going to be a weekend just for her and Lionel. She’s got some money stowed away, enough that they can rent a car – dads being long since gone – and get out of Blacklight, just for the weekend. Never has she been happier her brother is a summer born child; they can go somewhere with a pool, or somewhere on the sea. They haven’t seen it since the summer before their dad was killed, and it’s finally time – in her opinion – to move on.

The house is quiet, though. She figures Lionel has earphones in, because the budget ones that came with his phone are the best sound system they have. He saved for ages to get that thing, scrounging together the change from Kara sending him grocery shopping and the neighbours paying him to pay the lawn until he could afford a Nokia and a memory card, the better to store music on. He loves his music, and his dream is to go to a concert; there aren’t any on this year that he’s interested in, or she would be taking him to it. “Boys and their toys,” she murmurs to herself, fond. She’s been busy, forced to work more lately by Faust and the twenty-five percent, and she’s been looking forward to this for ages, both for the company of Lionel, and for herself. Too much Blacklight breaks people, after all.

She sticks some candles in the little cake, lights them and heads into the further reaches of the apartment. It’s a shoebox, but she can make rent more often than not, and they each have their own rooms, for better or worse. She starts humming the timeless classic in her usual almost-croak, long since over how a husky voice does not lend itself well to singing. Still, she sings anyway, a loud “Happy birthday to you,” that cuts off as she drops the cake in the doorway.

Lionel is collapsed on the floor, and she only prevents a fire because her bare foot stamps out the candles before the ancient carpet can catch fire. Her panic blocks out the stab of pain, and she dives to her knees beside her little brother, feeling for a pulse before grasping for his phone, dropped on a stack of pamphlets, dialling emergency services because it’s that or nothing, and she can’t handle doing nothing.

The paramedics ask her more questions than she can answer. Oh, she can answer the standard lot – medical insurance, none; patients name, Lionel Darcy St Claire; patients age, fourteen; patients date of birth, today; emergency contact, Kara St Claire – but when they ask her if he’s been showing symptoms of anything, she cannot answer. “I work a lot,” she explains, but it feels feeble to her ears, and she feels judged for this more than anything else.

Their weekend away turns into a weekend in the hospital, and the money she has saved to make the weekend worth more than most is set aside for hospital bills. Kara spends Friday night sitting vigil at his bedside, Saturday with her head in her hands and shoulders hunched, and Sunday is when someone finally decides to tell her what’s going on. There’s an excess of something in his system – something that usually results from an overdose of opioids , of painkillers.

“There weren’t any pills anywhere near him,” she says, something nagging at the back of her mind.

The doctor gives a tight smile, sympathy heavy in his eyes. “It can take a week or longer for the overdose to show any observable effects to others, especially if he’s trying to hide them,” he informs her. “This isn’t your fault,” he says, “but his liver is shutting down. Chances are that there’s nothing you could’ve done – we’ve had a lot of suicides lately. It’s unlikely that he will last out the week.”

It’s not reassuring, not at all. She gives the doctor a look that says as much, then closes her eyes. She wants to cry, but she hasn’t done that, not in years, teardrops burning away from the inside out under scalding hot water. She hears the doctor leave, but she stays there, still, with her brother and the beeping of the machines that are, apparently, doing nothing but delaying the inevitable.

She falls asleep in the armchair beside the bed, curled in on herself as though having any more warmth will make this all go away. When her phone winks onto standby after she has fallen asleep, it closes on a Google search result, the top few links showing they’ve been clicked.

is cremation cheaper than burial blacklight usa

Lionel, it turns out, has been having a much harder time than she has been aware. She reaches out to the boy she remembers as his best friend, and it is only herself, him, his sister, and two former classmates who liked having Lionel paired with them for group work come to the pathetic service she holds. She doesn’t believe in god or gods, never has, and while Lionel liked the idea of the comfort divine answers might bring, he didn’t believe either. So she can’t bring herself to hire some religious man to preach something she doesn’t believe, even if it might make the sting any less painful.

She leads the lot of them to the roof of the shoebox apartment she doesn’t need any longer but can’t bring herself to leave, high above the second-storey place she manages to afford. It’s a hideous rooftop, but the building itself is nine storeys, and the view isn’t awful. There’s a barbecue and some cushions discarded up here, an esky that’s more often empty than not, and on afternoons when Kara didn’t have to work and he found himself in the mood, they would sit up here and talk about nothing and everything.

It’s the place most attached to him that brings the least amount of pain, now.

“Don’t you want to say something? In his memory, or something?” the friend asks, when they’re standing there with the urn that holds all that remains of her brothers body. His name is Alex; he’s the most harmless person Kara knows, now. Certainly the most naive and the most delusional. His parents are moving the family to New Brightside, on the other side of Port Lyndon to Blacklight, before the end of the year, chasing job opportunities they’re lucky to have been offered. Kara cannot resent them for their escape, because she hates this city, this city that breaks the people who least deserve it; but she can add them leaving to the list of reasons she has started to write up about

Everything Kara wants to say has been said already, to a brother trapped in a medically induced coma until his liver finally gave out, because Blacklight is no different to America and doesn’t allow euthanasia.

“I remember,” she says quietly, “the summer before mom died. Li – Lionel was four. He was turning four, four years old, can you imagine? And he was – he was so damn happy. I was ten, I thought I was so damn cool, and I really, really wasn’t.

“We went to the coast for a long weekend, I think Independence Day fell on a Monday that year. And there were these teenagers there, probably – probably as old as you guys are now. Thirteen, fourteen, not old at all. I thought they were the most amazing people I’d ever met, and I was such a jackass to Li on the first day, wanting to impress them. Then, on that night, we had this little family campfire, just the four of us, and dad gave me this lecture about not being mean to my brother, about how it was my responsibility to look after him. About how I’d regret not being nice, sooner or later.

“And Lionel, he just – he got up and he sat next to me and he interrupted dad, this four year old, and he says, dead serious, ‘Kara just wanted new friends’. He didn’t hold a grudge at all, it hadn’t even upset him that I was such a – a selfish person. And I know, I know kids don’t understand that at all, they’d never see it as selfish, but usually, you know, the fact that they’re four gets to them first, and they’re all ‘my way is the only way’. But Lionel,” and she laughs faintly, bitterly, fondly; “Lionel just – skipped that stage. And it didn’t change. It never started.

“Blacklight needs more people like that,” she finished, swallowing, choking on the emotion welling up in her throat.

The service ends with everyone sad, the only dry eye Kara’s, and only because she forces it. She’s still clutching the urn, though she plans on emptying it. It’s useless to her, just another thing to decorate the apartment, but it feels more important than that. After all, it’s her little brother in her arms. So she shuts down the thoughts that have been driving her crazy, the ones insisting a pot of ash shouldn’t mean anything, that an unmarked grave would be worth more to her.

But it’s Lionel. He’s all she’s had for three years now, he’s the reason she’s a lower class citizen, and she promised she’d take care of him. She swore.

I’ve never broken a promise before, she thinks, and then flinches from the thought, closes her eyes to it, refuses to acknowledge it again.

She’s got work, anyway. This – this debate can wait.

Kara is three months from her twenty-first birthday when she finds out she’s pregnant.

It isn’t much of a discovery, really. It’s actually impressive it hasn’t happened sooner – she’s heard horror stories of clients and pimps sabotaging others’ birth control, which is why she takes her prescribed pills meticulously, always made sure she has a supply even when money gets tight. That’s something that doesn’t happen much, not anymore, she’s even got savings.

And, apparently, a child on the way.

Maybe I should consider those god things again, she thinks as she wraps and dumps the test. It’d certainly explain the number of things that are fucking with me.

Still – still. She’s been alone for long enough that a bastard child sounds like a good idea, or at least one she doesn’t want to dismiss out of hand. She puts a lot of thought into the technicalities, makes lists and checks them twice.

In reality, her mind is made up the second that little plus sign shows up – the planning comes with the knowledge that a whore isn’t going to make the kind of mother she wants to be.

“You have a daughter,” is what the midwife says, smiling warmly at Kara. Kara is exhausted, feels sweat soaked and disgusting, and there are textbooks at home she is supposed to be revising, unable to take time off even for this – she’s taken advantage of the break from whoring (“Can’t very well have you giving birth in the middle of a good fuck,” he had insisted, which was crass but meant she got time off from wor) to pick up the business course she found in the pamphlets in her brothers’ room, all those years ago. “Would you like to hold her?”

“Please,” Kara says immediately, tired and almost pleading, reaching for the infant. The midwife laughs, more open and affectionate than anyone Kara has spent time with in a long time, and gently arranges the baby in her arms.

“Have you decided on a name for her, yet?”

Kara hums. She’s staring at her new child, at her family, wonder in her wide green eyes. The baby has blonde hair on her head, like Kara’s, and her eyes, for the moment, are shut as she doses. She’s a beautiful little girl, bundled into the blanket and onesie the maternity ward provides. Kara is absolutely certain she’s never going to make anything this perfect again, and immediately feels immensely guilty that she’s stuck picking up on the whoring again just as soon as Faust tires of her sabbatical. All the more reason to finish this business course, to pick up on dreams she had back in high school, that, apparently, Lionel remembered in the week before he succumbed to his suicide attempt.

(She still doesn’t know what caused it, or what she missed, if she could have stopped it. She constantly faces what-ifs and dreams and nightmares of possibilities, subconscious images so realistic she wakes up waiting to tell Lionel about it – and then the memories hit and she curls back up, chokes back the emotion, refuses the tears she still hasn’t shed. But what-ifs are useless and the past cannot be changed: Blacklight breaks people. She has known this all her life.)

“Darcy Artemis St Claire,” she answers the midwife at last, leaning down to kiss her little girls forehead. Darcy feels right, which she didn’t expect, but it just – it suits the person in her arms, belongs to her in a way Kara has heard some mothers’ say is possible, but didn’t believe. The midwife says something about paperwork and vanishes to find it, pulling the crib over so Kara can put her baby to bed, if she chooses.

When she’s alone with Darcy, Kara presses her lips to the top of her babies’ head yet again. “You’re going to be brilliant,” she murmurs, almost silent. “You’re not going to have a life like mine. I’ll never let you feel alone, I promise. You’re never going to have to swear yourself to – to someone like Faust or Craig or anyone else. I swear, Darcy. We don’t know each other well yet, but we will, and it is going to be fantastic. I promise you.”

She should learn to keep her mouth shut.

Darcy opens her eyes more and more, and there’s something familiar in them. It’s only once Kara is forced to go back to work, cajoling the elderly neighbour into caring for Darcy for the few hours she has to be gone, that she figures it out.

She’s lying in bed with Faust, waiting for him to tell her she can get out, go home, collect her pay direct to a bank account she always transfers the money straight out of, when it comes to her. Darcy doesn’t have her eyes, but they’ve always been familiar. Kara has a lot of regulars, people she’s seen since coming back to work.

“She’s got your eyes,” she blurts without thinking, and immediately starts cursing herself out internally, more than she usually does. She promised Darcy she’d never owe herself to someone like Faust, and here she is, piquing his curiosity.

“I’m not giving you alimony. Keep your bastard child away from me,” he instructs.

She immediately wants to leap to her daughters defence, but she stops herself. She doesn’t want him in Darcy’s life, after all – she promised Darcy, and she’s never going to know that this one time, Kara didn’t defend her. “I don’t want your hush money,” she snaps, getting out from the bed he fucked her in.

She feels dirty, but that’s normal, after any time spent with Faust at all – any time spent working at all. She’s almost finished her course, though, and then she can work on starting a store, the way she wanted to as a teen. She’s almost out. Finally.

Kara isn’t exactly counting down the days, but she is closer to relieved than she’s felt for a long time.

“What’s this I hear,” Faust says, speaking very slowly, “about you studying?”

He says it like it’s a dirty word, but it’s Kara who is alarmed. She’s got a contract with him that doesn’t say it, but everyone knows that once Faust has you, you don’t get out. The contract doesn’t say it, but everyone knows the rules: no studying, no betterment of yourself, no terminating your employment. Whores get out only once they’re too old to be appealing, businesspeople get out when they can payout more than Faust thinks they are worth, mercs don’t get out.

The exception is when they get dead.

Who told you, is the first question on her tongue, but she doesn’t ask. Even if he answers, it won’t do her any good. “It doesn’t say anything in my contract about me not being allowed to pursue other uses of my time, as long as it doesn’t impact my earnings. It hasn’t, therefore, you have no reason to be like this.” She folds her arms over her chest, the better to hide her fisted hands.

He laughs, long and loud and cruel. “Your contract means nothing. I maintain the terms because it amuses me, but if you are betraying me, Caramel, then you need to be punished. You’re nothing more than a particularly pretty slut, spreading your legs for whatever cash you can get your hands on.”

Kara hates that name, but she freezes, and cannot move. He raises a hand and two men come in, along with a woman she’s barely aware of, some other whore, one of the older ones – one of the broken ones.

“Do it,” he instructs.

The men get between the two women, but it’s the woman who catches Kara’s attention. She’s tiny and hunched and doesn’t have an ounce of confidence in her movements – and she’s walking right for the room where Darcy is sleeping.

“What are you doing?” Kara exclaims, lunging forward. One of the men grab her wrist, the better to prevent her from moving.

“You want to take one of my toys away?” Faust sneers. Kara has never wanted to attack him as much as she does now. “I will take yours. After all, she’s half mine, isn’t she? What was it you said – she has my eyes.”

In the other room, the woman must have picked up Darcy; the baby starts to cry. There are quiet shushing sounds, but they don’t work – Kara and the neighbour are the only people who can get her to be quiet, once she starts crying. Kara doesn’t know if it’s a temperament thing or what, but she doesn’t mind, not as long as she can get there to stop it. “No,” she gasps, then repeats it louder, wrenching out of the grip of the lackey, “No! Don’t you dare, don’t even think about it, I’ll – I’ll go to the police, or I’ll hire someone to get you, Faust, just watch me – get off me – don’t touch her!”

The last shout comes from the older whore showing the wailing infant to Faust. And – yes, okay, he’s the source of the sperm that made Darcy possible, but he’s not her father, and he looks at the baby as though she is some new plaything. Figures, Kara will think later, but for now, she is too panicked, too defensive, too amped up to do anything. “Stop that,” he tells Darcy, but if anything it only makes her cry louder. He rolls his eyes and dismisses both the whore and the baby with a wave of his hand, and Kara is reminded again of how offended she was, when she realised who made her daughter possible. “You, too. Stop it,” he orders, not even looking at the crying child. “The police won’t act against me, and no one you could find would dare go against me. I own this city, I own you, and now, I own your daughter.”

“Fuck you, Faust,” she spits, tugging ineffectually against the grip of the merc. One of them shifts behind her, not that she can see it, and lifts something. Faust nods in front of her, and she opens her mouth to keep protesting, to keep yelling, to talk sense into the man who is kidnapping a baby he wanted nothing to do with less than a year ago.

Only something soft goes over her mouth and nose, muffling her shouts, and when she inhales the air is sickly sweet. Her eyes go wider, and she’s at once disgusted and horrified and incensed, but it doesn’t mean anything. After all – she isn’t immune to chloroform.

His words are a premonition:

The police do nothing. He has half a claim on a child, and if she can’t keep it safe from one little home invader, clearly she isn’t fit for custody, and less than a tenth of the police force in Blacklight aren’t in Faust’s pocket –

She can’t hire anyone to help. She doesn’t have the money, and she doesn’t trust the sort of people she could hire, and one in maybe every two hundred residents of Blacklight would maybe consider doing something that will piss off Faust –

There’s no one who will volunteer to help. She knows people who might not like Faust’s methods, but they are quiet and constrained and won’t act against him, and she couldn’t ask them to anyway, not without becoming as bad as him (which, honestly, wouldn’t be that bad, if she got her baby back) –

His words are a challenge:

He says he owns her, but she refuses to be owned by someone who no longer has anything over her. He took her daughter, and she’s not powerful enough to right the wrong, not yet –

But he can’t do anything worse to her now, so why should she listen to a word he says?

“Y’know,” X says. He’s a hulking figure, leaning against the glass cabinet she’s fixing the display of, completely at home in the meticulously kept almost-open store. “when we met, I didn’t think you’d end up at this point.”

“Yeah?”

“I mean, common whore – no offence – to the owner of a gun store? It’s almost a 180.”

Kara snorts, because that’s the best she can offer while she’s got her hands on an engraved Colt. She rests it gently on the cushion and slides the drawer shut, locking it tight before she looks up at him. “Says the guy who gave me the idea in the first place.”

“You were at a gun show, of course that’s why I thought you were there. It’s that or you’re a gun bunny.”

“That’s not a thing,” she says drily, because he’s been trying to make it a thing at least as long as she’s known him. He hasn’t succeeded, not yet. She’s not going to let him – at least, not around her. Not on her corner of this cesspool.

“It’s totally a thing.”

She scoffs hard enough that her throat feels raw, and almost chokes on nothing. He pushes the bottle of water on the counter towards her, raises a brow at her. “Thanks,” she says, once she’s got it down without coughing anything up.

“Don’t mention it,” he says. Then it’s his turn to laugh, and roll his eyes. “I have no idea what you’re thanking me for.”

There are a lot of things. She met X at a dark point in her life, and while things haven’t gotten any lighter, she still constantly feels as though she owes him. “Closing your shop to come help me open, obviously,” she says, but it’s only one of a much longer list.

He knows. The smile he gives her is soft, and he leans across the counter to tap her nose. “You’re going to figure it all out,” he says, “I know it.”

She manages a smile back at him. It’s hard to believe – but it means the world that he does already. Apparently, it’s just what friends do – and she’s been missing out.

#kristie's writing #kwriting #kristie writes #kwrites #ft. kara #ft. faust #ft. lionel #ft. darcy #ft. x

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