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wendydarling1400 · 3 years

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JANE EYRE: INFP

Fi:

Jane Eyre, throughout the novel is completely devoted to her principles and beliefs. Although quiet and isolated Jane is not afraid to express her true opinion and judgments. When she observes Mr Rochester alienating Adele she gently teaches him that Adele should be treated with respect; Jane shows that she has strong empathy and will not accept people talking down to children “Adele is not answerable for either her Mother’s faults or yours (...) forsaken by her Mother and disowned by you, I shall cling closer to her than before”; Jane is stubborn and unmoving in her moral judgments in which she pulls from her internal beliefs (this is evident in the fact that these views are deeply against the social norms of the time). As Jane moves from place to place the things she clings to is her sense of self and her determination to be happy with her moral actions, this brings her great comfort in her circumstances “I can live alone if self-respect and circumstances require me to do so”; Jane leaves Thornfield on the pretence that she wouldn’t be able to live with herself if she were to stay and be tempted into living a bigamous marriage. Mr Rochester recognises that Jane is innocent and “untainted” leading him to ask Jane continuously if the actions he has taken are morally right to which Jane happily and honestly gives advice “you would in time find it possible to become what you yourself would approve”.Although Jane expresses to the reader that she loves Mr Rochester “while I breathe and think, I must love him” and is completely loyal to him, she will not act immorally for him “I like to serve you in all that is right” again proving that her principles are the most important thing to her and that she constantly evaluates things from an Fi perspective. Jane longs for love and affection which is what makes following her principles even harder as they often cost her the gateway to that in which she is seeking “to the crib I took my doll. Human beings must love something.”

Ne:

After establishing her principles and gaining all she feels she can from Lowood, Jane decides to move on. Although Jane is in search of a place or someone she belongs to, she easily becomes bored with the mundane and longs for deeper conversations and interactions finding Miss Fairfax, though kind, does not satisfy Jane in this way. Jane is intrigued and drawn in by Helen Burns and Miss Temples conversions as they discuss the bigger picture, she sees this as meaningful and interesting. Jane attaches herself quickly to Helen who is at first not particularly welcoming to Jane “you ask too many questions, I want to get back to my book” although this interaction could have put Jane off, she enjoys Helen’s insights and wisdom “Life appears to me too short to be spent in nursing animosity or registering wrongs”; Helen is wise and unlike other people around her, she talks about deeper matters of life in which Jane asks many questions about and seemingly absorbs the answers to (her Ne feeds her Fi); it is clear that many of Helen’s teachings are absorbed by Jane and brought into later life. Jane’s Ne lives for the excitement of deeper conversation and a thirst for diving into multiple hobbies including, painting, writing and playing the piano. It is this saviour function that ironically actually works as a saviour for Jane in her life, as a child she is told that she has ‘bad blood’ due to her emotional responses but her Ne and openness to new information (Helen and her teachings) transforms Jane into a principled and responsible young woman. In Mr Rochester Jane finds another person who enjoys deeper topics of conversation, he is also out of the box and strange, before Mr Rochester returned to Thornfield (before they met) she begins to find as months move pass by that she is becoming restless and again thinks of finding herself a new situation. However it is Mr Rochester and his company who keeps her at Thornfield. Jane also possesses a vivid imagination as she constantly invisions ghostly experiences in Gateshead, down the path whilst posting a letter (Gytrash), and most obviously at Thornfield hall; she expresses that as a child she only enjoyed reading stories about “fairies” and “genii”, and in later life is constantly told by Mr Rochester that she is like numerous different fairytale creatures and that she is“Unearthly.”

Si:

Sentimental and comfort seeking, Jane moves from place to place in search for a home and love. Jane consistently looks back over the past romanticising elements and also feeling upset over others. Though the book has to recollect her past, Jane has very strong feelings and statements to make regarding it. Jane reviews her past deeply and, remembers in great detail how she categorised each person and event she encountered. Jane has a Fi-Si loop which pulls her back in her personal journey; she has at times an unhealthy look on the past as she jumpes from one extreme view on the past to the other (pain and romanticism). After meeting the aristocratic group in which Mr Rochester brings to Thornfield one of the women automatically reminds Jane of Mrs Reed, Jane begins to sink into some of her past experiences of Mrs Reed and then forms somewhat of a disliking for the woman because she looks like her. When Jane returns to Gateshead to see Mrs Reed, memories flood back hitting her hard showing the power that Jane’s Si holds over her hitting her Fi at times very harshly. Obviously, we can all have bad memories but Jane is strongly guided by them and refers back to them many a time throughout her life, sometimes strongly living in the past “Old times crowded fast back on me”; “the inanimate objects were not changed; but the living things had altered past recognition” Jane clearly remembers Gateshead vividly as she travels back there in her mind frequently. It is clear that Jane’s Fi is strongly attached to her Si and is sometimes fed negative thoughts “I did not need directions to the well-known room, to which I had so often been summoned for chastisement in former days”; “the recollection of childhood terrors and sorrows revived”. Even the physical places in which Jane lives mean a lot to her as she categorises each place as a new stepping stone in her life.

Te:

Jane has a quiet and gentle nature however at moments during the novel her Te shows in a direct and passionate way; when Mr Rochester first talks about sending Jane off to a new place/situation, Jane quietly digests it trying not to show her grief, but over time Jane feels she cannot hold in her emotions anymore and speaks directly to Mr Rochester in an effort to get her views across which she had previously kept to herself “Do you think because I am poor, obscure, plain and little that I am soulless and heartless? You think wrong! - I have as much soul as you - and full as much heart! And if God had gifted me with some beauty and much wealth, I should have made it as hard for you to leave me, as it is now for me to leave you." Mr Rochester is shocked by this side of Jane as it is rarely shown. Jane also speaks to the ‘gypsy lady’ directly as the interview she conducts feels uncomfortable, making Jane feel on edge and as a result she has a sharper tongue than usual “ ‘Why do you not consult my art?’ ‘because I am not silly.’ (...) “‘You are cold and you are silly’ ‘prove it’; Jane is more blunt and short when put on the spot by someone who is trying to read her deep emotions; making her defensive.

Hufflepuff:

One of Jane’s main traits is loyalty, she is loyal in many ways; Jane is loyal to her principles sticking to them strictly, she is loyal to Helen and her guidance, and she is most obviously loyal to Mr Rochester. Jane has no idea what Mr Rochester’s big secret is and doesn’t try to force it out of him or investigate herself (by perhaps going up to the tower), instead she trusts him and does whatever she can to serve him as a friend; “Can I help you, sir? - I’d give anything to serve you”, Jane earns the trust of Mr Rochester very quickly despite the fact that he is deeply secretive, as he sees that Jane is loyal and honest and would keep his secrets not wishing to harm him “ ‘my little friend!’ Said he, ‘I wish I were on a quiet island with only you” Mr Rochester knows that Jane does not easily judge or cast aside people and that if everyone else around him were to hate him, she would not. Jane is forgiving, even though she feels great sorrow in regard to Mrs Reed she forgives her “a strong yearning to forget and forgive all injuries- to be reconciled and clasp hands with amity” this shows that Jane is caring and not prideful or bitter, she has true Hufflepuff traits (wanting peace and harmony). As Well as this Jane is also hugely modest and uncompetitive in nature “I will do my best; it is a pity that doing one’s best does not always answer”; “If he expects me to talk for the sake of talking and showing off, he will find he has addressed himself to the wrong person”, Jane is disinterested in gossip and being boastful and competitive, when Jane and Mr Rochester plan to get married Jane refuses to have anything big and over the top wanting only the simple things in life, the simple things strongly include love for Jane; “There is no happiness like that of being loved by your fellow-creatures, and feeling that your presence is an addition to their comfort”. When she learns that her uncle died and left her a huge sum of money, Jane’s initial reaction was sadness as she had never met her uncle, and not excitement towards the money that would mean a different life for her. Jane holds love above everything else. Jane is a Hufflepuff because she values, loyalty, kindness, modesty, fair-play and hard-work.

-WendyDarling1400

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keanureevesisbae · 4 years

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“One cappuccino and chocolate brownie, please” - Chapter 1

A/N: This is my first time posting something I wrote on Tumblr. English is not my first language, so I’m sorry for any mistakes 🙊I hope you like it ♥️

Summary: Darcie Angel is thirty years old and owner of the famous cafe “The Coffee Cup” in New York City. She is known for her sweet smile and her amazing customer service. For six months now, John Wick has visited her cafe every day, earning himself a table that is always reserved for him. Darcie can’t stop thinking about him and when he asks her out one day, her dreams are finally coming true. But will it last?

John Wick x OFC Darcie

Word count: 2.2k

Warnings: None

Masterlist // Next chapter

It’s too damn early in the morning to deal with a Karen, who is demanding to see the manager. Though I’d rather stay here in the kitchen, talking to my best friend Jennie, who kneads the dough for her next delicious creation, I can’t say no to the big blue eyes of our newest employee Ellie, a sweet sixteen year old who really needed a summer job.

‘This has got to be a record,’ I mumble, looking at my gold wrist watch. ‘We’ve been open for what? Thirty minutes.’

Jennie laughs. ‘Well, girl,’ she says, ‘Karen asked for the manager, so she should get the manager.’

Ellie, who still looks horrified after her first encounter with a Karen, plays with her nails. ‘I’m so sorry, Darcie,’ she says.

‘No, sweetheart,’ I say, ‘Jennie is right. We should give Karen what she wants.’

My sweet labradoodle stands up from his spot, but I shake my head. ‘No, no, Tiki, you stay here with auntie Jennie.’ Tiki drops her ears, but curls herself up on her cushion, staring at me as I walk out of the kitchen.

I already see her near the register. Her haircut is the first giveaway and from the looks of it, she is a level ten Karen. Nothing I can’t handle. ‘Hello,’ I say with a smile. According to Cinderella in her second movie, you catch more flies with honey than you do with vinegar. ‘You wanted to see the manager.’

‘Yes,’ the woman says. ‘Where is he?’

Typical. ‘She is standing right in front of you,’ I say.

Her eyes widen. ‘You’re too young to be the manager.’

She is not the first one to say it and though it is a compliment that I apparently still look young, I sometimes wish that people—and especially customers like this one—would take me a bit more seriously.

‘I get that a lot,’ I say, ‘but I am the manager of this place and the only one that can help you with whatever the problem is.’

“Karen” feels the desperate need to complain, so she says: ‘Well, that girl said that you don’t serve cappuccino with goat milk.’

‘Oh,’ I say, ‘well, she is correct.’

‘But I’m lactose intolerant,’ the woman says.

Normally I would feel for the person who is lactose intolerant. My mother was lactose intolerant and I have tons of customers who also can’t handle lactose, but I can’t feel sorry for this woman, since she is annoying the shit out of me.

‘We do have multiple other options for people with lactose intolerance,’ I start to say, though I’d rather see this woman leave. She is disturbing the other customers and to make things worse, my favorite customer just walks in.

The first few months he came by, he wore a black suit. But since the temperatures are rising, he switched the suit for a simple jeans and a white shirt. He looks so muscular, especially when he holds open the door for an older lady who is leaving the cafe.

His dark orbs meet mine and he raises his hand, his lips curling up in a smile.

I can’t help but smile back, until I realize I’m supposed to listen to the complaining customer.

‘I don’t want other options for people with lactose intolerance,’ “Karen” says.

‘Then I’m terribly sorry, but we don’t have goat milk and we won’t have that in the near future. It’s much more expensive than regular milk or other alternatives and at the moment, we can’t afford that.’

‘But I want it.’ God, this woman must be at least forty five, but why on earth is she being so pouty? From the looks of it, she’s married and it’s beyond me why anyone would have this woman in their house voluntarily.

‘Then I suggest you go to another place.’

Within a second, she whips out her phone and starts to record me. ‘Excuse me,’ I say, ‘what are you doing?’

‘I’m in The Coffee Cup in New York,’ she says, ‘and this Asian lady refuses to help me with my order. I am lactose intolerant and she is refusing to help me out.’

Oh my God, she is one of those Karens.

‘Ma’am,’ I say, ‘I kindly advise you to turn off the camera and that you listen to me. This ,’—I gesture to myself—‘Asian lady is not refusing to help you. I told you that goat milk is too expensive for an alternative for lactose. While I do sympathize with people who can’t have lactose and am willing to help them figure out what alternative fits for them, I’m hardly sympathizing with you. So, you get your goat milk cappuccino somewhere else, because I really need you to leave my cafe. You are disturbing not only me and my employee, but also the other customers.’

She is outraged. She grabs her stuff and while she films the rest of the cafe, she angrily screams that she can’t believe she is being treated like this and how unfair this all is. I hear something about a terrible review, but she closes the door behind her.

I let out a sigh. ‘I’m so sorry everyone,’ I say in a loud voice to the customers.

‘You did great, miss Angel,’ one of the high school kids who are here almost daily.

‘You did indeed, I would’ve slapped the woman.’

‘Roger,’ I say to the second kid, ‘you know you can’t slap ladies, no matter how annoying they are.’

‘Sorry, miss Angel,’ he says, looking guilty.

‘What you can do instead, is slash their car tires.’ I wink at him, causing him and his friends to laugh.

‘I think you are more of a miss Devil, than an Angel.’

I stick out my tongue. ‘Ellie, sweetheart, go check on Jennie okay? Maybe help her out a bit. I’ll stay here for a while.’

‘Of course, Darcie,’ she says. ‘Thank you.’

‘No problem.’

She walks off to the kitchen and I see how John has taken the place where “Karen” just stood. ‘I’m sorry for the inconvenience,’ I say.

By far the most handsome customer we have in this shop, shakes his head. ‘That is okay. The kid was right, you did great.’

I let out a laugh. ‘Well, dealing with someone like this, this early in the morning, is hardly good for anyone.’ I tap the screen, to erase what the woman before him wanted to order and say: ‘How can I help you today, John?’

‘One cappuccino and a chocolate brownie, please.’

‘You are so predictable.’ Rolling my eyes, I tap his order on the screen. ‘Don’t you think you should order something else?’

‘Well, you ask that every day, but have I ever ordered something else?’

‘No,’ I say. ‘That’ll be five sixty.’

John holds out his card. ‘But, I would like to change something about my order,’ he says, before he pays.

‘Surprise me.’

‘I’d like goat milk in my cappuccino, instead of regular milk.’

‘Fuck off, John,’ I laugh. ‘That’s not funny.’

‘Why are you laughing then?’

‘To prevent myself from crying.’ I lean on my forearms against the counter. ‘You know, this has never happened to me before. I mean, I dealt with terrible customers, but no one ever whipped out their camera like that lady did. I bet she’s done that before. Tell me, John, do I look presentable enough to be filmed without my permission?’

John smiles. ‘You look always presentable, Darcie.’

After he payed for his order, I hear little footsteps patting on the hard floor. ‘Tiki,’ I say to her, ‘what are you doing here?’

John laughs and clicks his tongue, causing Tiki to rush to him. She jumps in his arms and licks his face when he lifts her up. ‘Can’t she join me?’ he asks.

‘She always joins you,’ I say, ‘and it’s okay, but as long…

‘As I don’t feed her any of my chocolate brownie, I know.’ He pats his pocket and adds: ‘I came prepared today.’

‘You go sit at your regular spot,’ I say. ‘As usual, we have it reserved especially for you.’

‘Have I mentioned that I love this place?’

I shrug. ‘You might’ve mentioned a few times.’

He nods and walks off to his table, still holding the tiny labradoodle in his hands, who is eager to lick his face. Tiki is normally pretty shy when it comes to other people, but with John, she was instantly comfortable.

I do check him out when he walks to the table, because I’m thirty, single and thirsting over this man. Our conversations are always like this, the flirty undertone always present, but that’s about it. I’m too afraid to ask him out anyways, because, what if the man is married and this is just his little fun for the day?

I turn around and I start to make his cappuccino, by letting the espresso run first. While I’m frothing the milk, I think about what I’ll do with his latte art for today and I think that a pegasus will do for today.

The pegasus looks lovely, so I place his coffee mug on the tiny wooden tray and grab a piece of the chocolate brownie he always wants. I think about walking up to him right now, but I all of the sudden have a boost of confidence, so I grab some prepackaged macarons, that we usually hand out when people order a lot and get it delivered.

I grab two macarons, one chocolate flavored and one mocha flavored, and place them on the tray. Like always, I grab a piece of paper. We always write down nice messages for the customers.

For the high school kids in the back, I wrote that they should ace their test they have in two hours, for customers who aren’t regular, I usually write ‘enjoy’ with a heart next to it and for the older couple who always read their news paper here, I write a Bible verse. Not that I’m religious myself, but I downloaded an app that always has very meaningful (I suppose) Bible verses specifically for that day. Since I really like this couple, I do that and that means a lot for them.

Today for John I write down: To John, my favorite customer.

Before I can rethink and reconsider it, I grab the tray and walk over to the reserved table. Like John told me, he is a man who knows what he wants and this spot is his favorite. Since he is here everyday, we reserve this place for him. He usually sits here and read and today is no different.

Tiki sits on his lap, her head placed on his chest, while he pats her back.

‘Here you go,’ I say, when I place the tray in front of him.

‘Thank you, Darcie.’

‘You are welcome.’ I smile at him and add: ‘Hope you enjoy and please, don’t spoil my dog. Otherwise she’ll like you more than me.’ I tickle Tiki behind her ear.

‘I won’t.’

I turn around, to walk away, but his hand grabs my wrist. God, his hands are big. He pulls me back and all of the sudden I’m really close to him. He smells delicious. ‘You are my favorite barista,’ he says, causing me to nearly collapse. ‘And… Thank you for the macarons.’

‘You’re welcome,’ I manage to say, but with him touching me like that, I barely can function.

John smiles and lets go of my wrist. I walk off to the kitchen, since there are no customers anyway. ‘Ellie, could you go back to the front, please? I’ll be joining you shortly, don’t worry.’

She nods and walks out.

‘So, how was the Karen?’ Jennie asks. ‘I heard it went well. I mean, not that I’m surprised, because you somehow handle those kind of people with such elegance and class. I could never.’

I ignore her. ‘John is here,’ I say.

‘Oh God, what happened? Did he breath the same air?’ she asks sarcastically.

I tell her what I did, with the macarons and the note and what he said to me. ‘I mean, it’s progress right?’

‘Yeah, sure,’ Jennie says, ‘and at this pace, you might get married at age sixty.’

‘Fuck off.’

⟢⟡⟣

‘Excuse me,’ John says, causing me to look up from the table I’m cleaning. ‘I have to get going.’ Tiki licks his face and he adds: ‘I do have something to ask.’

‘Oh,’ I say, taking Tiki from him. ‘What?’

‘I was wondering… What is your favorite book?’

‘My favorite book?’ I chuckle. ‘Why?’

‘Just wondering.’ John looks—for the first time since I know him—a bit shy. His cheeks are rose colored and I see that he has buried his hands in his pocket.

‘Well,’ I say, ‘I love to read, but Bridge to Terabithia has always been a favorite of mine.’ I cock an eyebrow. ‘You want to start a bookclub with me, John?’

He chuckles, a nervous, slightly high pitched sounds leaves his lips. A total contrast from what he usually sounds like. ‘Something like that, maybe. I have to go. I’ll see you tomorrow, Darcie.’ He rubs Tiki behind her ears and says in a high voice: ‘Bye bye Tiki, I’ll bring more snacks tomorrow.’

John flashes me a shy smile, causing my legs to go to jello.

‘Bye John,’ I say. I watch him open the door, his biceps flexing in the process and I sigh deeply when I stare out of the window, to see him wandering off.

‘Miss Angel,’ Roger, one of the high school kids, says, ‘you’re drooling.’

I glare at him. ‘Shut up or I’ll spit in your smoothie next time.’

#keanu reeves x oc #john wick x oc #john wick fanfic #keanu reeves fanfic #fanfic #one cappuccino and a chocolate brownie please #keanu reeves #john wick #keanu reeves x original character #john wick x original character #john wick x ofc #keanu reeves x ofc

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radicalcommonsense · 4 years

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Radical Common Sense: Introduction.

Though we all may be very different, we likely have one thing in common: In one way or another 2020 has changed each and every one of us. As if these last four years hadn't already filled our brains to the brim with political jibber-jabber from the mainstream media. I think we can all agree that the news has been persistently focused on politics (more specifically allegations against President Donald Trump) and that it has been a constant noise buzzing all around us, effecting each and every one of our lives. When we turn on the radio, when we scroll through our social media feeds, when we're on the bus, or eating peacefully at a restaurant and the person behind us is talking a little too loudly. As if all of this weren't enough to endure, the pool of politics became much, much deeper for us to swim in when we were locked up in our homes for months on end. I lost my job on March 15, 2020 when we were forced to close. I was fortunate enough to be able to continue to live comfortably with my boyfriend, but the time on my hands felt endless for the next 6 months. Like many I first went mad and began organizing every closet, cabinet, and sock drawer. I held so much pint up and nervous energy in my body that I felt like I was in a constant state of sticking a fork into an electrical socket and could burst into a series of sparks, burning to a crisp at any moment. I began dowsing myself in CBD products to try and keep my cool. I started painting, reading a ton and took an online Interior Design course???

Once I had finally grown somewhat accustom to my new and strange life of gardening, day drinking, reading on the balcony and pretending that I was a retired old woman, that's when the riots started happening. The shutdown alone had caused even more friction to rise between both ends of the political spectrum. Conservatives voiced their objection to government overreach while Leftists called people jogging outside without a mask "grandma killers". There was certainly ignorance shown on both ends of the spectrum, but the point I'm making here is that the tension was growing with each and every day that we all were forced to stay home, leaving our means of having any income in the hands of Daddy Government. I did my best to limit my social media intake, but even 5 minutes scrolling would reveal a whirlwind of very strong and accusatory opinions of the shutdown, Black Lives Matter, racism, systemic racism, systematic racism, another cancelled syrup bottle or comedian who wasn't politically correct in a stand up act back in 1994, white privilege, voter fraud, total Covid-19 hysteria and a whole lot of shaming those who didn't follow suit with the mainstream narrative. There were people fueling these fires and if you dared to question their motives you were on the chopping block, also embarrassingly known as Cancel Culture.

We all know what it is, but I am afraid to think of how many of us have actually experienced it. I certainly did when I shared a video of a BLM event happening in Chicago. This video was particularly alarming because the crowd of "peaceful" protestors were so extremely organized in their attack. I felt overwhelmed with fear watching as they took their giant "Black Lives Matter" sign made of pvc pipe, that stretched across what looked like 6 lanes of highway, hid behind it, changed into all black clothing and then proceeded to use it as a shield as they grew closer to their target. Once they were close enough, the pvc pipe was pulled apart to reveal that it had been constructed from pieces of pipe that they had sharpened to a nice and lethal point. They then began to throw these sharpened pieces of pvc pipe, along with frozen water bottles, frozen cans, rocks and explosive devises at police officers who appeared to be standing back, allowing the protest to happen without interference prior to this attack. So much so that most of them were even unarmed, not expecting violence to prevail on either side. (Feel free to watch the video to see for yourself.)

This certainly wasn't the first video I'd seen where "peaceful" protestors were being destructive or even gruesomely violent, but it was the first that made this movement look like a well organized militia, inspired by an organization which I believe has a Marxists, or communist agenda. When I shared my fears about this, calling the movement "violent" I received quite a lot of hate from the friends I'd somehow collected on Facebook over the last 10 years. They urged people not to support my creative endeavors. People took screenshots of the post and shared it on their other social accounts (completely out of context as the video was of course removed) in attempts to reach an even bigger audience. I received direct messages from total strangers who called me racists, among other things. I had already been “cancelled” by some close friends prior to this for going to the beach on the day it re-opened in Daytona and posting about it with a caption that suggested it was safe to be outside. This idea seemed to really devastate some people and they made sure to let me know it as they called me the following names: Laughably f*cking stupid, Karen, Privileged, Nazi, uninformed, insensitive, stupid b*tchh, flat-earther, ignorant f*cking b*tch, racist, a “Trumper” and the ever popular white privileged b*tch. These are just some of the insults that I can remember off the top of my head.

My message here is not meant to invoke pity, or rage, or anything in between, but it is necessary for me to give you some back story as to what led me to my obsession to understand something very few people care about today, the Truth. I knew that the ideas I was hearing, coming from the mouths of the majority were wrong, but I wanted to understand why and I wanted to be prepared to defend myself, since it had been made abundantly clear to me that, that was going to be necessary. So, I delved even DEEPER into politics, government, American history and the criminal justice system. I am happy to say that this thirst for knowledge led me back into school, where I'm finally finishing up my associates degree (and getting straight A's). But I digress. Time went on and I calmed my little hummingbird heart over the dramatic smearing of my name (which had previously been widely accepted due to my Leftist blabbering of things I didn't really understand) and I continued to quietly read and research. I dared to peer my head back into the land of Social Mania and posted yet again on Facebook. This time I felt I had something to say that was rather mild on the offensive scale... that proved to be incorrect. A friend of mine had shared a video with me of a fallen soldier whom he'd fought beside in Iraq. They had grown close and the video showed as they draped his casket with the American flag. The message he sent attached to the video said "this is why I'll always stand for the flag." I found his message really touching and shared the video along with what he had said (of course not mentioning his name out of respect). Later that day I received a message from a previous co-worker that was quite belligerent and sloppy, but somewhere in his (I'm assuming drunken) rage he asked the question: "Have you been radicalized or something?"

We are living in a world where the narrative has completely shifted. It is no longer radical to preach about the wonders of what Communism "could" be. It is no longer radical to loot, riot, burn down churches, kill police officers and even innocent child bystanders so long as it is under the guise of social justice. It is not radical to want to uproot your countries entire political system in order to replace it with a "better", socialist/communist one that has proven to not only fail but ruin/end the lives of millions. It is now radical to suggest that we should honor our flag, those who fought for our freedom and to simply lift ourselves up to stand for the American flag.

It is now racist to celebrate the 4th of July, insensitive to celebrate Thanksgiving, homophobic to practice Christianity and don't even think about subjectively acknowledging the accomplishments of Christopher Columbus. In fact, don't dare to celebrate the intellect of any of our founding fathers. It is now radical to be proud to be an American. It is radical to support a free-market economy. It is radical to defend straight white men against any and all accusations as they are the "obvious" oppressors of all. People will gasp if you question the effects of Drag Queen Story Hour and you're likely just "uneducated" if you don't understand why the nuclear family is outdated.

In summary, do not practice critical thinking and especially not Common Sense. Just repeat after the mainstream media and you might be spared from exposing your truly "radical" ideas about traditional American values and your love of oppressive straight white men.

I will continue to write about these topics as well as covering current events from the perspective of someone who is dedicated to understanding the Truth, how we can connect what we’re seeing today to human History & to earn a better understanding of human behavior. I do not intend to use this as a platform to rant vigorously about my own personal feelings. Rather to defend what I believe to be Common Sense values.

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corishadowfang · 4 years

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Writeblr Hunger Games - Day Two

Events from Day Two! (If you want to know how Aiden survived, the post is here.)

Silas and Guin belong to @rhikasa

Snow belongs to @spacebrick3

Yosh (mentioned in narration) belongs to @captain-sili

Begonia (mentioned by Gertrude and Snow) belongs to @ratracechronicler

Yana Blanche (mentioned in narration) belongs to @nightskywriter

The fog had dissipated as the night dragged on, and eventually the sun shone on an incredibly dry, hot day in the arena. Gertrude had stood up, dusted off her pants, and started moving in the early morning hours, before it got too hot.

She wasn’t exactly a stranger to odd hours, and the long night had given her some more time to think. Food and water are the most important resources. I need to stake out a source of water and, if possible, lay claim to it. If I can set up defenses around it, then I can either pick off tributes who are desperate enough to try and get to the water, or keep them away until they—well. A small part of her had to admit that she felt a little guilty about the slow death some of the other tributes might face if her plan succeeded. It’s just survival at this point, she argued with her conscience. She squinted at the sun. And if I don’t do it, someone else probably will. When that sun’s overhead, it’s going to get very warm, very fast.

Footsteps whispered through the grass.

Gertrude’s magic flickered briefly under her skin, but she turned around casually, hands shoved in her pockets in an almost bored manner.

Without the fog, sneaking up on people in the field would be difficult to impossible—not that her pursuer seemed interested in attempting. Silas stopped a few feet from of her, watching her with a speculative look.

Gertrude masked her surprise behind a plastic grin. “Well, can’t say I expected to see you again so soon, dear, but I thought we agreed our alliance was temporary.” They hadn’t really spoken about it the day before; they’d simply banded together, seeming to come to the unspoken agreement that they’d have better luck surviving the day in a group, until Gertrude had split just before nightfall. “Tell me, is Frankenstein here, too?”

Silas shook his head, then offered a hand. “I want to work together again.”

Gertrude just lifted an eyebrow slowly. “Do you, now.”

“There are still enough tributes left that forming alliances will be beneficial for us. I want to stay alive as long as possible—and I think that you do, too.”

Gertrude’s grin stretched into something a little sharper. “Mm. And what, exactly, made you think working with little old me would be beneficial? I’m sure there are plenty of other tributes who would be happy to do so.”

“We worked well together yesterday.” The ghost of a smile flickered across his face. “And it’s not like you’re the only one I plan on asking.”

Gertrude considered the offer. On the one hand, it’d be easier to defend a water source with a large group of people. On the other, it could make things that much harder late in the game.

Silas’s hand was still outstretched, waiting.

Gertrude made some mental calculations and began changing up her plans. If I say no, there’s a chance we’ll end up fighting, and I’d prefer to reserve my energy for later. That said, alliances don’t always last long in the arena. If nothing else, I can study Silas and the group for weaknesses, scout for potential water sources, and slip off to set up camp during the night. She gripped Silas’s hand and gave it a quick shake. “Deal, kiddo. Though I suppose I should specify—”

“I know.” The grin turned into something more genuine. “It’s only temporary.”

~*~

Surprisingly, Gertrude wasn’t the first to break from their group. They’d obtained three others in the form of Yosh (and wasn’t that awkward, given their spat at the Cornucopia?), Begonia, and Yana Blanche, and spent most of the day traversing the arena, gathering supplies and seeing what tributes they could find. They hadn’t been able to explore the entire arena, but they had seen enough of it to tell that the terrain was incredibly varied; tall pine forests bordered the grassland, and if Gertrude squinted, she thought she could see a desert somewhere in the distance. But still not much in the way of fresh water, she thought ruefully, her throat dry.

Yosh and Begonia had been the first to break off, sometime around midday, in an attempt to find a water source. Silas had found another group of individuals and, instead of waiting for their group to split further, had asked to join up with them. Gertrude had decided to make her own break after that, leaving Yana Blanche behind without so much as a goodbye. Have to be careful, she reminded her conscience. You can’t truly trust anyone in these games.

Blessedly, she’d finally found a small freshwater creek. Despite her thirst, she’d stopped to run magic through it, checking warily for any poison. She almost scoffed at herself. No one would risk poisoning themselves. Probably. Still, can’t be too careful. Satisfied, she’d finally taken a drink, and then set up camp. Tomorrow, she thought, I’ll start figuring out traps.

She was not, however, expecting someone to stumble into her camp come nightfall.

Footsteps splashed in the water, and someone cursed quietly.

Gertrude lifted slowly, hands moving to a defensive position.

She thought she’d done so near silently, but the other figure froze. The person lifted their hands. “I don’t mean any harm,” she whispered. “Please. I’m a doctor. I’m not supposed to kill anyone.”

“Strange place to be then, love.”

“I know,” she admitted, and something sad entered her voice.

Gertrude wasn’t sure what prompted it; perhaps it was the reminder of her own past, or perhaps she felt bad for the young woman, or perhaps she was simply reminded of her younger sister, far away and disconnected from her now but never forgotten. She blurted, “My parents wanted me to be a doctor.”

The girl’s head shot up.

Gertrude grinned, and she guessed there was an edge of something bitter about it. “Didn’t really pan out on my end.” And with that, the fight drained out of her. She sighed, sitting and patting the ground. “Come on, dear. I won’t bite, for now.”

The girl watched warily, as if she didn’t quite trust Gertrude to keep her word. Then, slowly, she slogged out of the water and settled a short distance away, halfway turned to face Gertrude. “I’m Snow,” she offered.

“Gertrude, love,” she responded.

The two lapsed into silence for a few moments. “So,” Gertrude said finally, “what is a doctor like you doing in the arena? Can’t imagine that works well with your oath.”

“Trying to keep people alive,” Snow said, something hard in her voice.

“Easy. Wasn’t trying to push any buttons.” A pause. “Still, can’t imagine that’s easy, considering the nature of the games.”

Snow seemed to sag. “It’s not,” she agreed quietly. With a sigh, she tilted her head back. “Sixteen are already gone.”

“Stopped to try and save any of them?”

Snow didn’t answer.

Gertrude stretched. “Well, I wouldn’t worry about it too much. Fewer tributes means a better chance for you to win, yeah?” When Snow still didn’t answer, Gertrude released a slow breath. “Well, I wouldn’t worry too much. I’ve worked with a few of the survivors. They seem like they’ve got good heads on their shoulders. One approached me for a temporary alliance two days in a row, if you can believe it. Kid seems to be jumping around from group to group. Seems like he’s figuring he can just work with others until there are too few left to do so.”

“Couldn’t that backfire, though?”

“So could trying to save people in the arena.” Gertrude’s eyes flicked to the girl. “Worked with any tributes yourself, love?”

“Not much,” she admitted quietly. “I spent last night with another tribute—Begonia, his name was. He—he seemed nice enough.”

Gertrude laughed. “Well, wouldn’t you know! Worked with him today, too.”

A ghost of a smile flickered across Snow’s face. “I wonder—” She broke off, then shook her head when Gertrude glanced at her. “No. It’s nothing.”

Gertrude eyed her a few moments, then released a frustrated sigh. “Get some rest, love,” she said, asking herself silently, Why am I doing this? “I’m sure we’ll need all our energy come morning.”

~*~

The world returned in scattered bits of color and vague, indistinct sounds. Is this…is this supposed to be Heaven? Aiden wondered. I thought it’d look different than the real world. He tried to sit up, and pain flared back along his side. He gasped, curling in on himself again. Okay, not Heaven. Then: How…how am I alive? Gingerly he fingered his wound.

His fingers caught around the ragged hole in his shirt and brushed against dried blood, but his skin was untouched.

He jerked upwards again, ignoring the phantom pain. He ran his hand over the space, eyes wide. I was shot. I know I was. How the hell did—did my magic work? It sparked, unruly, underneath his skin.

Someone shifted behind him, and he jerked towards them, hands already lifted defensively.

She lifted her hands. “Relax,” she said. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

A part of him wasn’t sure he believed her. But she could’ve killed you while you were sleeping, he argued with himself. And—geez, I should be dead now. How am I alive?

The idea hit him all at once, and he blurted, “Are you the one who healed me?”

A smile flickered across her face. “Yes. My name is Guin. Leanda brought you to me.”

“Lea—is she the one who—” He broke off, his side twinging and the taste of blood filling his mouth. He shoved the memory roughly aside. Don’t think about it.

Guin seemed to understand the question, though, because a faint frown stretched her lips. “I’m not sure,” she admitted. “She and I are part of an alliance, along with a few others.”

“Alliance?”

The smile returned. “To get everyone out of the arena.”

#writeblr hunger games #on my heart #i'm still entertained that the generator paired gertrude and silas up two days in a row

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alitheamateur · 5 years

Text

Special Delivery

Warnings: Language, because well, Colton Ritter’s mouth.

Summary: Colton Ritter hates birthdays. Always has, and was determined he always would. His wife, however, cheeky with her newlywed bright ideas, makes it her mission to change his mind with a special birthday delivery.

A/N: I swear to you, the second part of The Grind-A Wedding is coming! But, sense it doesn't seem to be falling into place as quickly as I would like, I wanted to try and spread a little reward for my readers and their patience!

(gif not mine)

Colton Ritter was a bear about birthdays.

Was it the bitter swallow of becoming another year older? The fear that with age, would come the fizzle of his talents and abilities inside the cage? Was his ego simply weak to the thoughts of balding?

The reason a mystery, the fact a definitive reality regardless.

He wouldn’t eat cake because of a convenient ‘intermittent fasting’ that I wasn’t aware of until there was suddenly birthday cake involved. I tempted him with ice cream, his favorite, from the grocery store on 5th, and nothing broke his resisting stance.

This year, with a wedding, and a current pregnant under my belt, I was inflexibly determined make him appreciate the joys of a birthday. Knowing going after his sweet tooth was a bust, I let my brain storm, and mull over other ways to get him to finally smile on the 8th of September.

His belly may have been a dead end, but I knew one thirst that Colton could never truly quench.

Me.

One avenue of enjoyment that Colt always enjoyed exploring lie between my hips, and there was no amount of fight he could put up, and win, against it.

The day arrived, and I tested the waters at breakfast with a muffin and a candle for the occasion, only for it to be disregarded altogether when he strolled straight to kiss my neck as I poured his coffee. His pouty, gorilla grunts concluded his still present resentment towards the particular day of the year. I made a call-in to the bakery near the Pilot office before he woke, asking them to wait on standby with my order for a chocolate layered cake had things turned out different at this morning.

He trucked through the front door, gym clothes and a birthday card tucked away inside his duffle, not forgetting our routine morning game of ‘grab-ass’ before he left me to ready for heading into the office.

We could argue about the singing hallmark surprise over dinner tonight. While he nagged and grumbled about the balloon I planned to pick up on my way home.

I ended the call to the delivery service as I stepped into a hot shower, reiterating that his special birthday gift would be distributed today at 11:00 sharp, right before Colton was due to begin his kickboxing class. I was feeling less than desirable these with the stretches of our baby girl spanning over my belly, and swelling my tender breasts. Newlyweds, we were. And instead of leather garter-belts, and edible underwear, poor Colt was sleeping next to an oversized, less than new t-shirt I refused to let him throw out. He’d never go a day without asserting in every way possible that no matter what condition, my body only furthermore secured my goddess-status in his opinion. The lovemaking was, is, it’s, well clearly, there aren’t enough inappropriate words to illustrate what he does to me beneath the sheets of our bed. But, if a woman doesn’t see it, feel it herself that she’s marvelous, no amount of fervent praises can suffice.

So, this year, I’d give a gift to my newly crowned husband, with every intent to reinvent a love for birthdays, and maybe remind myself that I was fierce. The fiercest in all the land, and the fiend starring Colton Ritter’s wet dreams for the next 75 years.

I twiddled through the copy of an office memo brought to my desk this morning at least 32 times, never absorbing a single line of its contents. Rattling with the clock on my desk, I fiddled with the big hand, checking that it wasn’t indeed frozen in time for the last hour of work. I couldn’t get anything done, eager and dizzy with the apprehensive exhilaration for 11 o’clock to arrive, and Colton’s gift fall into his hands. I reminded the lady from my call this morning repeatedly that only Colton Ritter be responsible, no ifs, ands, or buts.

Colton

I hated these fuckin’ birthdays, damn it. I didn’t have a reason. It wasn’t about some suppressed scarring from my childhood because my parents never threw parties, or got me presents. As a matter of fact, Ma went all out with the stupid streamers, and the singing middle-aged men dressed in superhero costumes smelling like vodka. Something in me just hated the reminder that my life was drawing closer to an end. Especially now, since I actually liked the one I had. The one with Livvy, and little my Livvy, due in a few months.

And of course, the evil little minx had to go and remind everyone down at 21 Punches what today was, including Mac who led the stupid birthday song before the door had even shut behind me this morning.

Liv had been a little deflated this morning when I brushed off her subtle hints that she wanted to celebrate the day for me, and the more I stewed on it, the bigger my head grew into a dick. Maybe with her at my side, now as my wife, I should give this whole thing I try? I never want to be the reason her sideways smile fades again.

Just as I was about to tuck my phone into my desk drawer after sending her an apology text for the less-than-grateful behavior earlier, someone rapped a knock on my unlatched office door. I pulled the handle to, confused at the sight of a post-man standing in waiting, and even more confused at the large package tucked under his arm.

“Hey man. You could’ve left that at the front desk, no need for you to carry this shit across the building,” I signed his chipped clipboard.

“Special orders that this be delivered solely into your possession, Mr. Ritter. Have a good one, sir.”

I felt along the hard edges of the package, gently molding my hand around its shape to make sure it wasn’t some gag from one of the fighters on roster for my birthday. There was a tag dangling off the red bow, and I pulled the paper loose, careful to close the door behind me before I opened what was inside.

Happy Birthday, old man.

You only get better with age, my love!

Just a little something for you to look at….

Liv

Beautiful, stubborn, and persistent, she was.

I smiled, the way I always do when Liv wrangles me by the balls and just does whatever she damn well pleases whether I like it or not. The crisp paper was neatly creased at the four corners, secured with too much scotch tape for my patience, or lack thereof. So, I simply tore through the middle, short on time, and short on amusement with whatever Liv was playing at.

The image seemed abstract, or obscured initially, but I thought somewhere hidden in the black and white mess I saw long, blonde hair… Shifting the canvas, and tossing the paper in the can of trash beside my desk, my teeth gnawed suddenly.

My eyes instantly alert, and aware at the image before me, and my cock seeming to bust up in and all out hard-on without warning. The slight haze from sunshine beating through the window she looked to, made her glow. White light snuck into every curve of her body, except for the round, need-to-be-bitten curve of her perfect backside, barely covered by the taut lace of her bodysuit lingerie. Her veil grazed the silken, flushed flesh of her arms, and her hair at perfect length hid her angelic face. I touched the picture, wishing I could brush it back and see the soft look of slight, bashful pink on her cheeks, and that heart-shaped gap between her swollen lips. She was an angel caught in front of a lens, with every intention to drag me to the sinful, tight darkness between her thighs.

This, is how I want to always remember her. Draped in white, goosebumps mounting across her rose-smelling skin, bare. The image captured the essence of where every light in my life came from.

I was moved by the innocence of her sweet, almost timid, oblivious sexiness in front of me. But, the way she was mounted on both of her knees, eyes down like she was waiting to be taken by a dangerous, lethal storm like myself, motivated my insides to painfully pump. Refusing to turn loose of the picture, I searched blindly inside my desk for my cell.

“Hey, birthday boy…” She impishly chided. As if her intent to drive me off the fucking wall with this little delivery of hers wasn’t already clear, the way I could hear her biting her lip as she fiddled with her keyboard secured my assumptions.

“Hey yourself, you little troublemaker.”

Fuck. The giggles… Her laugh was connected with every muscle of control over my dick.

“Troublemaker? I have no absolute idea what you could possibly be referring to, husband of mine.”

“No? So, some other delicious blonde in Pittsburgh with ass for days sent over this glorious fuckin’ photo sitting on my desk right now?”

I heard her gasp as if someone could eavesdrop on the awful things I said to her.

“Okay. Maybe I had a little something to do with that.”

“Oh, I know that for certain, baby. I’ve seen those hands wrapped around me enough to recognize ‘em.”

“Colton Ritter! You know, they say the baby can hear inside the womb. Your poor daughter...” Liv squealed, words on the cusp of a whisper.

“Then I suggest we buy some ear buffs to put over your little belly tonight. I wouldn’t want our girl to hear all the awful things I’m going to have her mommy screamin’.”

“Happy birthday, you sex-crazed pig.”

“I can’t help it my wife is smokin’. And Livvy?” I questioned to her.

“Yes?”

“Thank you. This birthday thing may not be so bad after all now that you’re around.”

TAGS: @miidailyinspiration @torialeysha @mollybegger-blog @eap1935 @littleluna98

#Tom Hardy #tomhardy #tomhardyfanfiction #tomhardyfanfic #thegrind #Elizabeth Olsen

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bobbichoicesfeedback · 4 years

Text

This is a response to the most recent Bloodbound chapter. It does not follow on from my previous post, I’m just writing a response at each stage to deal with it in my own way.

I feel like I should make clear, I still really enjoy Choices, and several other stories are brilliant, but the lack of agency in this book is really distressing

I’d finally managed to take a shower, more than a day after I’d clawed my way out of my own grave. I looked at my reflection, trying to see any sign of the transformation I’d been subjected to. On the outside, I looked exactly like the old Bobbi, but I could sense the pent-up power in my body, the heightened sensitivity, and the fundamental difference of my new life as a vampire.

I shuddered to myself. Ever since I’d discovered that Adrien was a vampire, barely a year ago, almost everything in my life had been focused around the hidden undead world lurking beneath the surface of New York City – and the whole world. I still remembered the day I’d come home to find my room-mate, my best friend, and unacknowledged crush, Lily Spencer dying in a pool of her own blood and had forced Adrien to Turn her so that she wouldn’t die.

That decision had been made in a panic, an emotional response to a traumatic situation. I’d felt guilty about it for a while, but Lily had assured me that she loved her new existence and abilities, plus it had enabled us to finally open up to each other. Sex with a vampire was incredible and, accordingly to Lily, it was even more amazing when you were a vampire.

I walked out of the bathroom and found a package on the bed. It was simply wrapped, and only had a small label saying, ‘From Lily.’

I looked inside and saw a set of red lingerie, attractive and sexy. Instead of gratitude or arousal, I simply felt nauseous. Even the name on the label made me recoil.

It was difficult to recognise these feelings in myself. I knew that Lily had been in a similar position to me when I had died, impaled on Jax’s sword, as I saved New York and the world from Gaius’ mad plan of a vampire kingdom, ruling over us humans like we were cattle. Lily’s position had been worse, I supposed, because we were falling for each other now.

Nevertheless, knowing that I had been dying and that Lily had Turned me was filling me with a growing sense of disgust and repulsion. I still remembered the pale body of the woman who had volunteered to provide my first meal, knowing that without Adrien’s supervision, I would have killed her, swallowing her blood greedily. It had been delicious, the perfect meal, beyond anything I’d experienced before my death and, at the time, I’d enjoyed it. Immediately afterwards, when the thirst had receded and my guilt set in, I hated myself and my new needs.

I’d told Lily I forgave her, the night she found me, savagely chasing humans in the park, a slave to my overpowering bloodlust. At the time, the look of distress on her face had made me say it automatically. I remembered how I’d felt and had told her what I wanted to hear at the time. Now, with the Unchained gone, and my… I mean, the human government beginning the process of repair, I finally had a chance to think clearly.

I had to admit to myself that the forgiveness had been a lie. The realisation felt like a pit in my stomach, almost as bad as the hunger I felt when I first awoke in my coffin. Lily had done precisely what I had done in her situation, but where she had forgiven me, I was finding that I couldn’t forgive her.

Why shouldn’t I forgive her, I was trying to persuade myself that the situations were identical, but the more I thought, the less true that seemed. When I’d found Lily dying, she didn’t know that vampires were real. I’d known for less than twenty-four hours. Although I hadn’t known it at the time, she’d been attacked to make me vulnerable, so that I could be used as a divining rod for Gaius and his telepathic crony. She’d been murdered just to get at me.

I, on the other hand, had known that I would probably die when I ran at Gaius. A human – even a Bloodkeeper – didn’t stand a chance against a vampire with the blood of the first in his veins. I was the only one who could even take that chance, though, because I was the only one he couldn’t control. I’d been lucky, managing to strike his heart with the wood of the sacred tree even as he impaled me on my friend’s sword.

We’d never explicitly talked about what I wanted, in the likely event that something happened to me, but I feel like I’d intimated my feelings – although I was willing to fight tooth and nail for my vampire friends, I didn’t want to join them in undeath. Maybe I hadn’t been clear enough, I was still looking for ways to persuade myself to forgive her. As I was dying in Lily’s arms, I’d tried to form the words ‘Please don’t Turn me,’ but my life faded before I could even frame the first syllable. The last thing I remembered was her voice saying…

“I lo…”

Tear drops fell onto my hands, I looked down and saw that I had crumpled the gift into a ball. The first time she’d said she loved me was as I died. Then, she forced me back to life, even if it took an inexplicably long time.

I dressed, quickly, in demure and drab clothes pointedly leaving the lingerie in the paper bag, and then walked into the apartment where the others had gathered to celebrate our eventual victory. Lily gave me a smouldering look, which I repaid with a bland smile. I decided I wasn’t going to break the news to her now; despite my feelings and the bubbling sense of resentment, we all deserved a moment to celebrate.

I was vaguely aware of a look of surprise on her face as I accepted a hug from Jax and Adrien but pushed all these emotions to the back of my mind. I passed through the kitchen and subtly dropped the package into the pedal bin: Lily wasn’t staying in this room overnight so there was little chance that she would see it before the cleaning staff went through the room.

The champagne tasted great, although not as good as the more gruesome drink I’d had yesterday, but I didn’t seem to get even tipsy the way I had before.

Successfully burying the turmoil inside for now, I chattered with the vampire council and Lily. I remained sat on the sofa next to Kamilah, so that Lily couldn’t sit next to me, but several times she reached over and caressed my arm or my neck. I shuddered with pleasure at the barest touch, just as Lily had told me, even the slightest bit of skin-to-skin contact felt better than anything I’d experienced before.

Lily seemed to notice my reactions, she smiled knowingly and continued to brush against me occasionally. I knew her well enough to realise that she was trying to tease me, tantalise me with a taste of what it felt like so that I’d be hungry for more. The trouble was, it was working. Jax and Adrien grinned; they’d both had feelings for me but had backed off when it became clear that my orientation was exclusively towards the fairer sex. Even so, they both seemed invested in my happiness, apparently my relationship with Lily was approved of. Interestingly, not in the way that most human men had viewed my relationships with women. Vampires seemed to have outgrown that particular hang-up.

Eventually, with only a few hours before dawn – when we were due to meet with the military’s representative – I stood up. All four of my companions turned to look at me, all with expressions that seemed to predict what I was about to say.

“Okay, I may not need to sleep quite as much as I used to,” I began, noticing that Lily was already shifting as though to stand up, “But I would like to get some, even if it’s out of habit. Good night, everyone.”

I’ll confess, I found a twisted little stab of enjoyment at the surprised look on Jax’s face, the practiced indifference on Kamilah’s, and the professionally confused on Adrien’s. I didn’t look at Lily until she called after me, sounding both hurt and baffled.

“Good night, Bobbi?”

“Yes, I’ll see you all in the morning,” I smiled, putting all of my effort into maintaining a neutral expression. It seemed to work, even Kamilah was looking a little puzzled now. Lily looked shocked, as though she genuinely hadn’t thought this was even a possibility.

They were all silent as I walked out of the room and down the corridor. On a whim, I entered the apartment next door to the one in which we’d been gathered instead of the bedroom I’d been given, focusing my abilities as Kamilah had taught me, to be as silent as possible. I undressed and curled up in the bed, listening as hard as I could.

“She just seems more distant,” I could just hear Lily’s voice. I closed my eyes and allowed my hearing to reach out, augmented by the bizarre psychic abilities of my Bloodkeeper heritage, “I mean, it looked like she was enjoying things, then she just left.”

“It’s a big change, Lil,” Jax’s voice was conciliatory, but still had an air of incredulity, “Give her time. You two are perfect together, she’ll come around.”

“Oh, Lily,” Adrien’s voice sounded like someone who thought he’d found a possible calming solution, “It looks like a present for you got knocked into the bin by mistake… oh… no, wait it’s from you…”

There was a moment of silence. Psychically, I could sense a feeling of betrayal and panic from Lily.

“Don’t read too much into this, Lily,” Kamilah’s voice finally spoke up, passive and emotionless, “As Jax said, this is a big change for Bobbi, even though she’s been around us for a while.”

“I’m going to talk to her,” Lily said, stubbornly, ignoring the sudden call of our friends advising her to wait. I heard her footsteps stamping across the room – deliberately, I knew how silently she could move now – and away down the corridor to my assigned apartment. I relaxed my senses and rolled onto my back, ready to sleep.

“Do you want to talk about it?” I nearly screamed, Kamilah had appeared in the room without a sound until she spoke, “I could hear your heartbeat. Not at first, you’re getting good at what I taught you, but when Lily left it sounded… relieved.”

“I just want to sleep, Kamilah,” I lied, turning my back on her. The mattress dipped as the ancient Egyptian beauty sat on the far side of the bed.

“If that was true, Bobbi,” she said, in that insufferable knowing way she sometimes had, “You would have gone back to your room and not hidden in here. Lily is very upset, she doesn’t understand why you’re rejecting her like this.”

“I know,” I grimaced, keeping my face hidden from her, “But I don’t want to talk about it.”

“I have an idea of what’s wrong,” Kamilah continued, “But I don’t want to jump to conclusions.”

“Kamilah,” I hesitated. The Queen was intelligent beyond belief, more than two-thousand years of life had allowed her to grow wiser than anyone I’ve met. She might work out the truth if I asked what was on my mind, “Is Adrien… When I first met you all, Adrien was working on a cure for his… for our condition…”

“He was,” Kamilah was suddenly using the blank, cadence-less voice that gave away nothing of what she was thinking. I could find out, but that would be an intrusion too far, “And you know how well it worked. Instead of making him human again, it made him closer to the First. Our experiences with Gaius and his brother should let you know how dangerous further research is.”

“Is there no chance?”

“Lily said that you forgave her,” suddenly Kamilah was accusatory, “Where has this resentment come from?”

“I was overwhelmed,” I sat up, glaring at Kamilah. I could feel my fangs again, which only made me feel angrier. Kamilah merely raised an exquisite eyebrow at me, “I thought I’d died, I woke up in a coffin, and I nearly killed an innocent woman. Then Lily tells me she Turned me, and we’re in the middle of a war, and the military is preparing to firebomb New York. I didn’t have time to think about my emotions!”

“So now you’ve had time?” she asked, sardonically, “And you hate us all?”

“Of course not,” I snarled back, her calm reaction worse than if she bared her fangs back at me, “You’ve all been my friends and I was in love with Lily.”

“Was?” that broke through her icy demeanour. I don’t think she was expected something that dramatic, “You don’t love her anymore?”

“I can’t,” I confessed, feeling tears start falling again. I was still furious, but the sadness was still there, “I’ve fought for all of you this past year, I wanted you all to be free of the threats… but I didn’t want to become a vampire. I… never wanted this… Do you know how hard it was not to ‘accidentally’ get caught in the ultra-violet grenade at the battle this evening?”

“That strongly?” Kamilah looked worried, but not surprised, “Jax was the only one who said you might not want this, but even he didn’t say no. He still feels guilty about the sword.”

“Kamilah,” I drew my knees up to my chest and hugged them tightly, anger finally slipping away into the despair I’d been feeling since I woke up staring at that wooden lid, “I can’t live like this. You told me once that your life since you were Turned didn’t feel as real as your human life. I don’t want to live a half-life: I hated drinking that woman’s blood.”

“There’s a possibility,” Kamilah said, although I couldn’t read her tone or expression, “That something in you caused you to Turn, rather than Lily. Normally, the fact that you didn’t Turn would mean that it wasn’t her. Given what we know about your… strange heritage… it may be that you were destined to become a vampire whatever your lover did.”

“Does that make a difference, Kamilah?” I asked, “She still tried it. If she’d said no and buried me, then I Turned anyway, I could deal with that. It would be easier for me, I’d be able to hold her and talk to her about the problems. But no, she tried to force this on me, either way.”

“I’ve seen a lot of new vampires over the years,” Kamilah said, shifting into a lying position on her side. She was next to me, looking at me inscrutably, “Some, not many, attempt suicide. I’m going to stay here with you. They usually fail, and cause pain for everyone.

“Do you want… to relieve the feelings?” Kamilah reached out an exquisite hand, hovering just over my hips, “It was obvious that Lily was exciting you.”

“I want to.” I said, flatly, finally lying back down. My body screamed at me as I rejected this seductive offer. Kamilah’s deep brown eyes reflected the red glow in mine and I looked down, “I really want to. But I won’t. If you have to stay, promise me you won’t talk to Lily about this. She deserves to hear it from me…”

I woke up. Kamilah was asleep next to me, still fully clothed. Why was I awake, it had only been an hour or so? Suddenly, there was a voice in my head, calling me forth. It was impossible to resist, when this sweet voice gave an instruction, I was bound to obey… My slow-beating heart sank in my chest as I pulled on some clothes and began to walk out of the room. Kamilah didn’t wake as I left.

This did not bode well for the future…

#choices #pixelberry #bloodbound #bloodbound3 #visual novel #vampire #constructive criticism #fan fiction #honest feedback

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justsomewritingsandshit · 6 years

Text

The Wait Is Over

Carlisle Cullen x Female!Reader

Length: 1681 words

Warnings: badly edited, I’m so tired fam

Requested

Masterlist for this series | Part 1 | Part 2

Long ago, before Carlisle had found others of his kind, he believed that he might have been damned to spend eternity alone. Destined to constantly hunt, run, and survive by himself.

He encountered the Volturi during his early travels, quickly discovering that not only were there hundreds of his kind, but a ‘monarchy’ too.

The Volturi coven’s ways differed from his own greatly. They revelled in the thrill of their hunt, as well as human blood, much like the other vampires that Carlisle had come across. Their ways vastly opposed Carlisle’s own morals, and his preferred animal-based diet. Thus, the blond vampire left Volterra after a few decades; his eagerness to learn, and his love for humanity easily forcing him out from behind the stone walls of the Volturi Castle.

Carlisle went on to live amongst the humans. The calm vampire quickly discovered that he had an amazing inner strength, never once divulging his thirst. Taking such a rare opportunity gifted to him; Carlisle went on to study, and later practice, as a doctor – he was always rather giving.

Practising medicine is how he met Edward Masen, the first of his ‘children’. The dying teen had been the first-person Carlisle changed, but he was certainly not the last. The following century was filled with adventures with the family he’d procured post-death.

Still, as his many of his ‘children’ found lovers, Carlisle often wondered if he’d do the same. Alice had Jasper, Rosalie had Emmett – their love was beautiful to be witness to, and it left Carlisle wanting the same.

Eventually, he stumbled upon Y/N.

Y/N was the most remarkable human (or vampire) he had ever met. The woman was a nurse, a healer, a lover, a fighter, a thinker… She was far more than Carlisle could ever have dreamt he could one day deserve. The entirety of his coven loved her – even the more stubborn, stuck-in-their-ways members adored their ‘father’s’ love.

The day he finally asked her to marry him, he had wept tearlessly (as only a vampire can).

He’d gotten down on one knee, late one night. Carlisle had shamelessly been carrying around the ring he’d picked out in his left pocket, safely stored in a small, vintage ring box – Alice had been the one to tell him to do so, telling him his proposal was often ‘spontaneous’. It had been a normal day, considering. He had simply looked to Y/N briefly, and then let himself think about how he would rather fight a newborn army than spend a second longer not knowing if Y/N would spent ever and a day with him.

Nurse Y/N Y/L spared barely a second before she said yes. Alice immediately began planning their wedding, though technically, she had commenced planning their nuptials six weeks prior to their engagement.

Forks was a rather dreary place year-round, and the coven would be outed by sunlight, so their wedding was organised to take place in the middle of October. Fall happened to be Y/N’s favourite season, and the brown hues of the once green trees were too beautiful to not be included in their wedding’s colour scheme. Carlisle’s father, Reverend Cullen, had been a man of the cloth, and an important part of Carlisle’s human-life. So, it was important to him that the wedding take place in a church. They easily picked the one on Main Street, as the outside of it was as beautiful as its inside. The reception was to be held at the Cullen residence, just a short commute away.

St. Anne’s, a rather quaint church, had been decked out by a sprightly Alice the morning of. The white pews were tastefully decorated with wide, brown ribbons. The end of every other pew held floral garlands, brown and white chrysanthemums spun around dark green foliage. The aisle was laden with a long white carpet, Alice’s snide attempt at hiding the rather hideous old blue one.

The vampire guests mingled with human ones easily, not that the human guests were aware of such a fact. All guests had arrived, not a single RSVP being turned down – people were far too interested in the Cullen’s, it seemed. Attending vampires had been warned to keep the Cullen’s identity secret, and had been informed that they were not to feed within a ten-mile radius of Forks – a precautionary method that many of the vampires simultaneously loathed, and respected.

The Alaskan coven, the only other ‘vegetarian’ coven known to the Cullens’, had arrived days prior. Alice had begged for their early arrival, as she claimed that she required Kate and Tanya’s help in the set-up of the reception. Peter and Charlotte, vampires from Jasper’s past that he still kept in touch with, arrived a day before the wedding – the two mates been man-handled into cleaner, more formal clothes by Alice, much to her husband’s amusement. Other vampires arrived, having heard of their old friends upcoming nuptials. Vampires that Carlisle hadn’t seen in centuries had turned up for the occasion. Even the Volturi had sent emissaries.

Many of the human guests were friends and co-workers of the pair. They looked to be in awe of the other guests, very much stunned by their striking beauty, and when the time came they needed prompting to take their seats. Any slow stragglers were given Rosalie’s famous death-stare until they were properly seated.

Shortly, the wedding march began.

Carlisle, already at the altar with his sons as his groomsmen, steadily looked to the double-doors of the entrance. Almost dancing into the room once the doors opened, came Alice. She was bridesmaid number two, the other being Y/N’s long-time friend. The two girls entered, quickly walked the aisle, then stood opposite the groomsmen.

If Carlisle had been a living, breathing creature… his heart might have stopped at his fiancée’s entry.

Y/N was ethereal. Astounding. Celestial.

She wasn’t on the arm of a family member, as she’d long ago lost them all. Instead, she walked herself down the aisle. Her painted hands were clutching tightly at her bouquet. She was very much attempting to not fall in front of the large crowd that had gathered. Assured that she wouldn’t be at risk of tripping, Y/N looked up, her eyes connecting easily with Carlisle’s. The adoration and longing in his gaze left her breathless.

As she approached the altar, one of her hands went out to reach for Carlisle’s. Nothing had felt righter than her hand in his.

The priest spoke. They talked long about the deep bond and commitment they were making, with the two lovers answering when appropriate to do so.

“I do.”

“I will.”

Then, when prompted, Carlisle gave his vows. “If I am to perish tomorrow, let it be in the sanctity of your embrace.” His words, similar in construct to a poem or a monologue from a play, left their audience in suspense. “If I were to go through life without you by my side… I would not be living. Having you as my lover, as my friend, and as my companion, ensures that I will never feel alone, nor lonesome, again. I am excited, thrilled, to spend an eternity with your smile, with your laugh.” A ring had already been slid onto Y/N’s finger, yet Carlisle did not recede his hand. “Knowing you, has been the greatest gift I have ever received. I love you, Y/N.”

Several members of the congregation dabbed away tears that had gathered.

Y/N, also teary-eyed, took the ring held out to her. “Carlisle,” She breathed, before shakily taking his hand in her own, “Once again, you have managed to out-do me.” A patchy laugh came from the audience. “I used to think you over-rated,” Another laugh emerged, with a particularly loud chortle from Emmett, just behind Carlisle. “I felt like I already knew you, when we met. I’d heard so much about you…” Y/N quickly blinked away tears that had begun to form again, “I wish I hadn’t been so stubborn. Working with you, loving you… knowing you… You complete me in ways I didn’t know were possible.” Smiling softly, she paused to slide on Carlisle’s ring, then looked back up to gaze lovingly at his face. “I love you more than I can possible verbalise… I guess I’ll just spend forever, trying to find a way to tell you exactly how much I love you.”

To a vampire, time passed by slowly, always. Yet, in this moment, Carlisle felt like every second was at least a minute long… Eventually, their priest announced what he’d been waiting for, “You may kiss-” Carlisle didn’t bother listening to the rest of the sentence. Instead, he pulled Y/N into his arms, dipped her low, then planted his lips onto hers desperately. Their lips slotted together seamlessly, this particular dance one their lips had danced dozens of times before.

A wolf-whistle pulled them apart. Y/N was breathing heavily, quite flustered. Carlisle was beaming.

The newly-weds marched arm-in-arm out of the church, grinning and smiling despite the fact it had begun to drizzle. Carlisle’s sleek Mercedes, which had been adorned with matching ribbon, was parked out front. The drive to the Cullen residence was full of the two lover’s giggles, and their murmurs of admiration.

Secretly, both of them counted down the hours until they could leave for their honeymoon (with Carlisle counting the minutes and seconds, as well). Y/N had no idea where they would be going, but she’d booked three weeks off of work for it, so it had to be far from Forks.

Carlisle assured her, “You’ll love it.” What person wouldn’t want an island, and home, completely secluded from the rest of the world – their own perfect, quiet spot? Though, to Carlisle; where they celebrated didn’t matter, rather it was the fact they celebrated at all that truly thrilled him. His long wait was over… Carlisle Cullen was married to his mate.

The only thing going amiss, was the fact that she was very much still a human. But, Carlisle mused as he pulled into his home’s large garage, that was a problem for another day.

Masterlist for this series | Part 1 | Part 2

TAGGED:

@iamwarrenspeace, @stilesloverdaily, @itsnotnormalteen, @aw-hawkeye, @glimmering-darling-dolly, @snapplejuice, @lookatflam, @seninjakitey, @theshortegg, @lexa-hataka, @gqlqxies, @artemis629,

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emma-nation · 5 years

Text

Without You - Bloodbound AU (Chapter 5) *For You Sequel*

Summary: Gaius is back. While coming up with a plan to take him down, the gang must deal with some new life-changing events.

Genre: Angst/Adventure/Romance

Rating: T - Warning for violence and language

Tag List: @begging-for-kamilah, @lulu-the-cat, @ilovekamilahsayeed, @zoe6111, @kennaxval

Notes:

- English is my second language, please forgive me for any mistakes.

- Hope you enjoy it, your reviews and likes are always appreciated.

- Warning for violence, gore, language and smut.

- As most of you voted in favor of a MxF smut scene, I added it but with a previous warning, so feel free to skip it if you want.

Kamilah

She stood frozen in place, unable to turn around. It was a hallucination. It had to be. Amy told her many months ago, when she shared details about the past, that post-traumatic disorders could bring flashbacks, in form of visions or sounds.

Slowly, she clenched her fists and turned around to confirm. Gaius was indeed standing right in front of her.

“G-Gaius…” she attempted to take a step back, but he was quick, touching her face as he used to do in the past. The shivers, the distress, the fear… everything instantly returned to her body at the same strength.

“Are you scared, My Queen?” He stared inside her eyes. She tried to lie, shaking her head in denial. “Well, you should be.”

His eyes turned red and he grabbed her by the throat, crushing her windpipe.

“You, Kamilah… I always expected betrayal from Adrian, so compassionate about mortals. Or maybe Vega, who wanted more power at any cost… But you?!”

She was unable to answer or even breath. Her vision was getting blurred. Her consciousness was slipping away… When she closed her eyes there was only one thing in her mind… That afternoon in Japan.

“Amy, will you marry me?”

“Kamilah, I… yes! A million times yes!”

Using her entire 2064 years old strength, she grabbed Gaius wrist, digging her nails deeply into his skin until his flesh started to tear apart. As he loosened the grip around her neck, she managed to free herself. Stabbing him in the stomach with her dagger.

She turned around, willing to head back to the stair case, but she stopped. She was no longer able to move. Her body was being held by invisible strings.

“My blood is still running in your veins, Kamilah,” Gaius approached, the wound in his chest already healing itself. “You’re still My Queen.”

“No,” Kamilah clenched her jaw in rage. “I am not!”

Gaius closed his first and she squirmed in pain. Every joint of her body unnaturally popped, causing excruciating pain.

“Yes,” he kneeled down beside her on the floor, “you are.”

His hand touched her forehead. Kamilah gulped. If he fully used his powers on her that would blow up her skull.

“Kill me,” she said. “I’d rather die than… than be yours again.”

Jameson appeared from a dark corner of the room, his laugh echoing through the basement.

“What Amy is going to think about it, huh? Don’t worry, my dear. When she returns and finds your letter, saying you could no longer stand the pressures of living for so long in this world.”

"Imbecile!” Kamilah yelled. “She’ll never believe that! I have witnesses. I have someone I spoke to before driving to his place.”

“You mean Kaira?” Harvey appeared. “May she rest in peace.”

“Y-You killed her… Traitor! I should’ve known, you…"

When Kamilah studied his face again she noticed something different. Harvey didn’t look like his usual self. There was something different about him, in his eyes…

An intense headache interrupted her thoughts. Feeling her brain was starting to bleed, she closed her eyes, expecting her fate. Instead, Gaius stopped and stroked her hair.

"Killing you? I’m not killing you, My Queen. You’ll be mine again.”

Before she could protest, Gaius ordered:

“Jameson, do it.”

Similar to debriefing, Jameson pressed his fingers against her temples, gazing intensely into her eyes. But the magic he was using was another, he was hypnotizing her.

“No,” she winced, trying to resist the spell.

Everything started to return, the thirst for human blood, the devotion for Gaius and his purposes, the will of ruling the world, knowing she was superior than any being… than any mortal… than…

“Amy,” she thought.

“You make me want to be better. SO I can be… even half the woman you deserve.”

She couldn’t give in. For Amy. She needed to focus on something else. On the memories of the woman she loved. On their wedding plans.

Then she started to remember her brother. How he’d always take the blame when they got in trouble as children.

“I’ll always protect you, sister.”

And Adrian. How he comforted her after the night they defeated Gaius.

“It’s over now, Kamilah,” he embraced her. “We’re free.”

Jameson stopped, announcing the ritual was complete. When she opened her eyes again, they were glowing dark red.

“How are you feeling, My Queen?” Gaius asked.

She looked at him, smiled and bowed.

“Like I’ve been reborn, My King.”

———-

Amy

Amy closed her eyes, feeling the cold metal of the blade pressed on her throat. A single tear ran across her cheek. Kamilah would never know what happened to her or how much she lamented abandoning her for this stupid course in London.

“What the hell is that now?!” Wright grunted when a crashing noise came from above the temple. “There’s someone in my office!”

She sent another member of the cult to check. Minutes passed and he didn’t return. The woman started to get impatient.

“If your girlfriend has anything to do with that, I’ll…” she threatened.

A figure suddenly streaked down from the staircase to inside the underground temple. When he stopped, Amy recognized.

“Lysimachus!”

“Amy?! What is going on here?”

One by one, the members of the cult advanced in his direction. He had no trouble to knock down all of them.

“You!” Wright yelled. “How dare you to interrupt the awakening of Keaseth, the Goddess of Immortality?! You’ll pay for that!”

Infuriated, she stabbed him in the stomach with the ceremonial knife.

“My apologies,” Lysimachus moaned, a little disturbed by the pain. “There’s one detail you missed though…”

“Which is?”

“Keaseth is not the only immortal here,” he pulled the knife out of his abdomen, slicing her throat.

Amy closed her eyes, avoiding to watch as the woman’s blood spilled in every direction and she emitted the last sounds, indicating life was leaving her body. On other hand, she couldn’t be more grateful. If it wasn’t for her brother in law, she’d be the one dying in that moment.

“Hey,” he approached, in all his kindness, breaking the chains that were restraining her limbs. “Are you alright?”

Amy nodded and hugged him tightly. Against his chest, she sobbed continuously.

“Shhhh,” he stroked her hair. “Calm down. It’s okay now…”

“I-I left Kamilah alone for this…”

“You didn’t know.”

She tried to stand up on her feet, but the effects of the drugs Wright injected on her body were still making her unsteady. Lysimachus grabbed her in his arms and placed her on a couch back on Wright’s office, where he finished getting all the books he needed.

Later, he took her to a hotel, where she had a warm shower, a nice meal and a comfortable bed to rest.

“Do you have any news about Kamilah?”

He sighed, taking a long time to answer.

“No, I’m sorry.”

He got up and went to the balcony, where he called Priya to confirm everything was alright in New York, leaving her alone to lament for her girlfriend one last time before falling asleep.

———-

Lysimachus

“Everything’s fine, babe. Almost.” That almost coming from Priya concerned him, but was the last of his worries. He spent the night awake, watching Amy sleep. The amount of drugs Wright administered could still give her side-effects.

Meanwhile, he analyzed the books he collected. Trying to relate the symbols from his book to Wright’s research.

“Would you mind to fill me in on what were you doing at that crazy bitch’s office?” She woke up, walking to him.

“I have this old ritual instructions,” he explained. “In some unknown language only she studied.”

“Anything that could help Kamilah?”

“Yes. If she’s in Gaius’ hands as I suspect, this ritual would defeat him forever.”

Amy sat down on the bed’s edge, watching him in silence.

Reading the about Keaseth, Goddess of Immortality, something started to sound familiar. That was the story of the First Vampire, except it omitted a great part of the true history.

“Amy… what else did she told you about Keaseth?”

“A lot, actually. She spoke about it in an affectionate manner, like if she was a real person or something. Oh, and she also had the obsessive idea that I was her descendant, reason why I should sacrifice myself to bring her back to life.”

“That explains a lot…” he muttered, reflecting about Amy’s special abilities. That could also be the reason of her attraction for New York, for Raines Corporation and the vampire world. Her blood was somehow linked to Adrian’s, Kamilah’s and all the others.

“W-Why are you looking at me like that? A-Am I some kind of…”

“You’re the First Vampire’s descendant, Amy.”

“And what does that makes me?” She looked scared at this point, her eyes were wide in fear.

“Human,” he let out a small laugh. “With a few magical abilities.”

———-

Kamilah

Gaius cupped her face into his hands, staring directly into her eyes.

“My Queen… it’s so good to have you back. Now we should proceed, we need to return our purpose of ruling this land.”

“Over my dead body!” Kamilah thought. But she needed to fake it. She needed to make Gaius believe she was under his spell. It was the only way to survive and find out his plans.

“Of course, My Love. As you desire. But shall we build an army first?”

Apart from Jameson, he no longer had thralls, willing to serve him on his sick world domination plans.

“We’re already forming one, My Queen,” behind him, Harvey, Anya and Nate were standing, together with some champions from the Mortals vs. Vampires contest. They were all hypnotized and ready to listen to his commands. “what is yours is mine. You managed to build a powerful army yourself.”

She clenched her jaw, forcing herself to control her rage. He was willing to take her Clan members as servants. She couldn’t let that happen.

“Of course, I must return to New York and enlist the rest of them for our kingdom.”

“May I have the word, Master?” Jameson interrupted.

“Speak, poppet,” Gaius frowned at him, displeased.

“I should recruit the servants. How can you trust Kamilah after her betrayal?”

Gaius furrowed his brows and grabbed Jameson by the neck.

“How can I trust you, after you almost killed My Queen?”

Those words ignited a spark inside Kamilah’s mind. Gaius ordered Jameson to create a plan to get her and Lysimachus, which he failed, trying to murder them instead. She felt even angrier, but she couldn’t let it show.

Gaius turned back to her. She felt the same shiver running through her bones as his ancient eyes looked at her.

"Can I trust you, My Queen?”

“Of course, My Love. I shall never betray you again. I… I was under Adrian’s influence. He manipulated me into that, saying we could rule the world without you. While we built our own empires, my life has been empty, meaningless…”

He studied her eyes for a moment. Her heart was racing inside her chest, wondering if she was acting well enough.

“Kamilah,” he smile, satisfied. “I always knew it was Adrian’s fault, but now he’ll no longer manipulate you…” he caressed her face, before planting a small kiss on her lips.

Kamilah felt she was about to throw up.

“But to prove your loyalty, there’s something else you must do…”

“Please, not that… please, not that…” her stomach hurt and she started to tremble. She’d rather die than surrender to him in the manner she was thinking.

“You’ll return to New York and gather the latest news about The Council’s plans. Then you return and report them to me.”

Kamilah let out a discreet, but relieved sigh and nodded in agreement.

“Harvey will be recruiting the rest of our army.”

“So, I should get going,” Kamilah told. “Adrian is coming back from Chicago, as I heard.”

“No,” Gaius stopped her. “Before that, I prepared you a welcome gift.”

With an arm around her shoulders, he drove her to the next room, where a group of mortals were gagged and tied by ropes. Their eyes were terrified in pure fear.

“A feast for My Queen.”

“I… I’m not hungry.”

“Kamilah,” he brushed her hair away from her neck and whispered in her ear, “you’re always hungry. I know you.”

“Later, My Love. I’m tired, I…”

“Feed,” he ordered. “Now.”

She gave one last quick look at the mortals, as if she was apologizing for what she was about to do.

———-

Amy

“It was horrible…” she rested her head on Lily’s lap, crying her eyes out. “If Lysimachus hadn’t arrived, I…”

“You’re safe here with us now,” Lily stroked her hair. “Right, Jax?”

The male vampire agreed. Lysimachus thought it’d be better if she stayed at the Shadow Den until he solved some pending businesses. She also didn’t feel like going back to the penthouse yet, knowing Kamilah wouldn’t be there.

After eating the special meal Jax cooked, she called her fiancée again. Trying to hide she had been crying.

“Hey you, I know you’re going through a lot right now but… I’m back. I’m in New York and I’m waiting for you. Please, call me back. Let’s go through this together, please? I love you.”

She couldn’t get any sleep, apart from the jet lag, it seemed like Wright’s maniac face was everywhere, observing her. Lily was focused on her computer as always.

“So, what great games have I missed?” Amy forced a smile, trying to get some normality back to her life.

“It’s not a game. I’m trying to decipher the code. The ritual to kill Gaius. With the book Lysimachus brought, I actually may have found something. We need a… magic seal?”

“Don’t tell me about magic, please,” Amy rolled her eyes, making Lily laugh.

“Uhhh there’s something else you can do,” Lily handed her another laptop. It was Kamilah’s laptop. “Maybe you can find any clues of where she might have went? I mean, you’re her fiancée. You kinda have permission to invade her privacy in cases of emergency.”

Amy grabbed it and went back to the improvised bed. On Kamilah’s desktop, the Ahmanet Financial’s logotype had been replaced with a picture of them together. The girl smiled.

On her documents all she could find were files about her company, e-books and articles related to finances, botanic and the Ancient Egypt. Although it was against her best judgment, she decided to access Kamilah’s finances.

“Whoa,” until now she knew her fiancée was rich, but not that much.

Nothing suspicious. Only restaurants, stores, her flight to London… but before that, she found a big transaction. A house in the Hamptons.

“Lily…” Amy furrowed her brows confused, “did you know Kamilah recently bought a house in the Hamptons?”

“I had no idea. I don’t think Lysimachus does either.”

“Maybe she’s there!”

Without caring about anything else, Amy entered a taxi, headed to the house. She called Lysimachus but he was unable to answer.

“I found something about Kamilah… Call me when you can.”

The house was completely empty. Lights were off, indicating no one was there.

“Fuck!” Amy cursed. That was her only hope to find Kamilah, safe and sound.

Then, she walked to the house next door, a little intimidated by its luxuriousness. A middle-aged woman answered.

“Excuse me… my fiancée just bought the house next door and she has been missing for days. Would you happen to have seen her around lately?”

“Are you sure she’s missing? Because she was there until yesterday.”

“Thank you, Miss.”

Amy headed back to the front door of Kamilah’s house, expecting her to return at any moment.

———-

Lysimachus

“I’m sure we can find a peaceful resolution,” he paced around his office at Raines Corporation, running his hand through his black, straight hair.

Lester convoked a Council Meeting, claiming Priya attempted to take his life. Lysimachus suggested they should wait until Adrian returned, but The Baron purposely threw the responsibility in his hands.

“No,” Lester angered, “I want her punished right now! My hand hasn’t fully regenerated yet, almost 24 hours later!”

“Priya,” he glanced at the Fashion Designer again. “Would you tell me your version of the facts? Seriously this time.”

“Of course. I had to attend a photoshoot, where my models were being photographed for my newest collection and I thought: hey, I should take one of Lys’ weapons, just in case of an emergency, you know?” She started to tell. “Then I heard a noise, coming from behind a curtain. The girls panicked, I panicked… and bang! I shot. See? Not my fault. I thought it was Gaius but… it was only Lester.”

“The weapon in question has turned my arm into ashes! My hand hasn’t regenerated yet!”

“But it will, in a few more hours,” Lysimachus assured. “The damage is only permanent when it hits the head or the heart.”

After lots of argumentation, Lester finally agreed to take the attack as an accident. After all he secretly invaded the photoshoot, to spy on the female models.��

When he and The Baron left, Lysimachus was alone with Priya in the office.

"One job,” he sighed angrily. “I gave you one job and you fucked it up. Can you imagine if you had killed Lester, with my weapon?! A weapon I didn’t authorize you to use?!”

“Come on, babe. We both agree it wouldn’t be such a loss.”

“You could’ve started a Clan war!” He slammed his fist on the table. “You could’ve sentenced me to death! Do you know the price I’m gonna have to pay, Priya? I’ll have to report all my arsenal to The Council, maybe even share! Can you imagine these weapons on The Baron’s hands? He tortures people!”

She stared at him in silence. For the first time he detected sadness and regret coming from her.

“I-I’m sorry?"

"I…” he wasn’t sure of what to do. “You’re out. Tomorrow you’ll go back to your house and I’ll find somebody else for the mission. I know a lot of vampires who weren’t turned by Gaius. What could I expect from you anyways? You only care about yourself.”

He left to his apartment. Still no signs of his sister. Everytime he opened the door, he hoped she’d be sitting on his couch with a drink in hands, as usual.

A warm and relaxing shower was everything he needed after such exhaustive events. He started to remember what Amy told him, about being related to the First Vampire. What other hidden abilities could she have? Did she have any powers, aside from visions and telepathy?

—– MxF Smut Scene - If you don’t wanna read it, skip this part —–

His thoughts were interrupted by a pair of arms, hugging him from behind and caressing his chest.

“Priya,” he turned around. “Out. Now!”

She didn’t let go, making sure to press even harder her body onto his.

“You didn’t give me a chance to explain myself.”

“You already did.”

“Not properly. Only me and you…”

The warmth of her skin, as well as other features of her body, brushing against his skin sent shivers down to all his spine.

“I mean it…” he turned around, breaking free from her arms. “I don’t wanna see you right now.”

“Oh really?” Priya smirked. “This is not what your body says,” her hand traveled down to his lower abdomen.

Although he was enjoying the sensation, he needed to resist his instincts. He couldn’t consent with Priya’s actions. She could’ve put them all in danger, for breaking that one promise she made.

“I don’t want you anymore.”

She stopped and faced him again. A devilish smile never leaving her lips.

“Too late, Hunter.”

She started kissing the way down to his chest, until his hips. As her mouth started to work on him, Lysimachus stopped breathing.

“S-Stop,” he tried again, gasping.

She looked at him with lustful eyes. The last bit of control he still had was slipping away.

“Make me,” Priya stood up, whispering in his ear.

With eyes glowing red, he switched places, pressing her against the cold tiles of the wall. Smart as she was, he felt straight into her trap. She wrapped both legs around his waist, teasing him… rubbing herself on him, letting him know how close he was from being exactly what she wanted.

“Screw it,” he thought. “It’s the last time.”

He devoured her mouth into a kiss, as together they built up a rhythm. She tightened the grip around him even more, inviting him to go deeper and harder.

As she felt he was close from reaching climax, she bit his neck, drawing some blood. He responded by doing the same. She tasted like danger and he loved it.

The night went on for hours, long hours. And for the first time since Priya arrived to his apartment she spent the night in his bed, with him.

—– End of scene —–

In the morning, along with the alarm sound coming from his cellphone, something caught his interest, a text from Amy:

“I found something about Kamilah… Call me when you can.”

#playchoices #choices stories you play #bloodbound #kamilah sayeed #kamilah x mc #bloodbound fanfiction

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citygossip-blog1 · 6 years

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it’s your favorite bitches, @pixilated and @laprincessa here and ready to rock your world. we don’t care if you read it or not, the rest of the world already has.

The Red Carpet Review with @pixilated

While some went unnoticed (I can’t tell if those were intentional or not), there were definitely some looks. With every celeb on the red carpet dying to make an impression, some unfortunately are destined to miss the mark-- the Carrington’s Gala was no exception. Now, I present to you last weekend’s best and worst dressed.

WORST: Sarah Park

No one would disagree with us when we say that Sarah looked like absolute literal trash, and sweetie, she can’t even challenge us on this one. We get it, you love the environment. Showing up to the red carpet in a dress made of trash was a power move, Ms. Park. There’s something fishy about this whole demonstration, but I’ll let @laprincessa tell you all about that. This dress didn’t even last the whole night, so structurally it was not sound. We applaud you for having the balls for wearing this as your red carpet look, I don’t think anyone else could have pulled it off.

BEST: Tyler Henry

Not a big surprise here, with all the money this girl has we expected nothing less. We’re almost positive that this dress costs less than the rock on her finger anyways. Henry also wore a stunning shade of green with her tiff toward Ms. Duffy and quite possibly a slightly different shade of green later that night due to her consumption of champagne-- eight or nine glasses would definitely make me sick. Thankfully for Ms. Henry, pink and green are complementary colors, so there’s no need to call the fashion police on this one.

WORST: Drew Koenig

*Yawn* Guess we should have seen this one coming considering the Koenig’s past with their money loss, maybe they are just trying to be more fiscally responsible, who knows. However, we know some better ways to be fiscally responsible-- especially for an underwear model. Showing up in #hiscalvins would have been a look, but instead we’re left with this lackluster appearance.

BEST: Willa Duffy

Time and again, Willa Duffy does not fail to impress-- it’s no wonder she’s continuously at the top of everyone’s radar. She dazzled everyone at the gala with this blue and gold number, Ms. Duffy you truly looked like a princess. Flora and Merryweather probably fought less than @laprincessa and I did on who was best dressed -- pink or blue! We just couldn’t settle on Ms. Duffy or Ms. Henry for the title, we’ll let them settle that in their own time, we just wanted to add a little more fuel to the fire between those two.

WORST: Charlie Carrington

Oh Carrington, it seems like a cop out to just get a handkerchief to match your girl. Maybe Ms. Henry was too indecisive about her look that you settled for something simple. Your name wasn’t even on the invitation, little Charlie, and your suit didn’t make you standout either.

@laprincessa: Que decepción, I honestly expected more of you Carrington, especialmente cuando your fiance is a fashion icon, tsk tsk communication is key darlings! Let me take this time to express my utter disappointment with men in high society always showing up in the same old somber tones, in the same old boring suits. The fashion world is always moving forward and you have the money to really show up and represent. Explore with colors, patterns and textures! Floral is not just for the ladies, gentlemen-- the more vibrant the color the more impressive you stand out. Stop boring me to tears with the same old suit and tie.

BEST: Jared Caldwell

That brings me to the best dressed guy, which goes to New Money Caldwell. Let me just fangirl about this this man for a second, can you tell that I just absolutely love him. Sure no one really knows who he is and he’s just a nerdy guy who made the hottest app, but if he ghosted me I would be heartbroken. I can see why Martha was all over this man, look at that t e x t u r e. Boys, you need to take a few notes in your book from him. THIS is how you rock a gala look.

WORST: Victoria Sparks

There’s nothing awful about this look, in fact the only one who really swung and missed was Ms. Park, but there’s nothing that really stands out either. I think we were all on the edge of our seats to see if your date would be your mother. I wonder if you’re feeling well, with your dreamy, far-off look and your nose stuck in a book-- what a puzzle to the rest of us is well, Ms. Sparks. I should have expected this from New York’s Sweetheart who has been flying under the radar, but we’re dying to know why your personality is still missing when you are back in the big apple with mommy dearest.

BEST: Juniper Winslow

Such a classic look from Ms. Winslow, it brings me back to the Juni: Princess of the Galaxy days! You really were a star. Thank goodness you didn’t have a fashion disaster tonight, but it’s such a shame your ex-mans was at the gala too. You really seemed on edge, Juni. The class the dress brought definitely compensated for the mess that followed.

BEST: Sarah Park

Hats off to you Ms. Park for not only receiving worst dressed, but also receiving the best dressed. While it wasn’t your red carpet look, you definitely turned some heads with this one too. Your transition from the trash in our ocean to your sandy sparkly look was not only touching, but inspiring. Congrats from your two faves-- oh and tell your bestie that #TimesUp on the fashion trend she tried to bring to the gala.

No Me Digas! con @laprincessa

Now you all know we love our fashion opinions, but what we thirst is more than what our fellow socialites were wearing. We thirst for the knowledge of what they are doing and subsequently hiding. Good thing is... we know all, we see all and my, my, my! What juicy content do we have to share.

While so many of you flew under the radar, stuck to the walls or hidden in the corners, some of you truly saved this gala from being a total snoozefest. I for one, was ready to post some secrets just to have a reaction from all those in attendance, but early on it was easy to spot that things were bound to get interesting.

Let me start with the ever so fabulous Tyler Henry. Mija, you were a total mess. The woman who has everything-- the wealth, good genes, the rock on her finger with the handsome man at her side-- started guzzling down champagne like it was water. What could possibly warrant Ms. Henry to act impulsively on the night of her soon-to-be family’s gala? My sources say that daddy dearest broke a promise and the Henry’s wholesome family unit was minus one. The night just kept getting better as Ms. Henry decided to up the ante and get into not one but two major confrontations.

The First: #theAutocrat vs #theVisionary

While we agree that Ms. Sarah Park was a total eyesore in that, for lack of a better term-- trashy dress, was it really necessary to ruin it? Now before all you Tyler-stans get all defensive here are the facts. The two ladies were spotted having a quarrel, it wouldn’t surprise me if the camera crew got all the juicy details of what was said. All I know is that the back-and-forth reached the point where Ms. Henry was seen pulling in the Carrington’s guest speaker real close, and not for the steamy reasons we’re all hoping for, and as Ms. Park pulled away... oops! Her dress was falling apart and Tyler was left with plastic in her hands. Seems pretty incriminating to me. In the end I feel like I should thank Tyler, Sarah was forced to change and I ended up getting a delectable view of her banging body.

@pixilated: Hey! #TeamTyler over here and I wouldn’t say that miss-horny-for-change can get away without pointing a few fingers at her. No one would believe it, but rumor has it Ms. Park could have had a few tricks up her sleeve and wanted Ms. Henry to rip her dress all along. Hell, I’d want that dis-gus-ting thing off of me too. Tyler did warn her never to call her by that godforsaken nickname. Seems like she was set-up to have the perfect alibi, but that’s just my cup of tea.

Since @pixilated has already revealed herself to be in #TeamTyler I guess I can go ahead and reveal that while I’m not on any teams yet, I do have a soft spot for Sarah Park. She had the guts to embarrass herself in front of all the who’s who of New York because her love of activism ran stronger than the need to look good. She’s constantly using her privilege for the greater good and I can’t help but admire that. Not even a wardrobe malfunction could slow her down. Ms. Park was right on time to perform her speech and the outpouring of support confirmed what we all know, this girl is on fire. Was it just me or did any of you notice how her speech even used her dress falling apart to her advantage? Ms. Park is one smart cookie, good thing she seems like she wants to help the world and not ruin it. And as Selena Gomez always said, “everything is not what it seems.” *queue theme song here*

The Second: #theAutocrat vs #theModel

You’d think I would be so over the drama between these two, but I can’t help it! They are my guilty pleasure and they always indulge me. I wonder whatever compelled Tyler Henry to approach Willa Duffy in the first place? Was Willa enchanting too many guests? Was she taking too much of the spotlight? Or was it because Willa was looking a little too cute laughing up a storm with Charles Carrington himself? Whatever the reason was, Ms. Henry was seven drinks too many in and confronting Willa Duffy in front of the whole gala!! Scandalous! I know I felt a shiver of excitement when I saw that showdown happening. These queens of New York were both so formidable with their consistent, calculated clapbacks, but it was apparent that the Queen Bee, Ms. Henry, stung Ms. Duffy one too many times. It's amazing to imagine how they could rule the whole city if they only joined forces once again. I know, I know, never gonna happen! It's the dreamer in me I can’t help it. Anyways, much like Tyler’s first confrontation, Willa left the scene first and while in many instances that would be a win. Is it really a win to act like a drunken fool in front of all your fiance’s family and esteemed guests? So who’s the real winner here? We are of course! We would like to thank Charlie for quite literally making the whole Tyler drama sweeter by removing her from the premise to grab a scoop to forget her stand-up dad.

So much time spent on Ms. Henry it’s safe to say she’s our Scandal of the Week. But there are so many who also caught our interest never fear!

Ms. Duffy where is your shadow? Consider us shocked at not seeing the Duffy twins attached at the hip. We know he was there or did he bail out before the party even got started? Perhaps it’s a good thing, we can’t imagine you would have charmed as many guests with your demon of a brother at your side.

Drew Koenig, your foolish, misogynistic attempts to win over Bella De La Rosa Lopez did not go unnoticed. You might like your women like you like your drinks, “sweet and a little spicy,” but I’ve heard Bella likes her men how most people like their wine. Luck for us, Ms. De La Rosa ended her night dancing with Ms. Duffy and not with the likes of you.

@pixilated: Some advice for Charlie Carrington, if you want people to respect your relationship with Tyler Henry, you best not be seen chatting it up and getting comfortable with her sworn enemy. Maybe he’s just trying to keep their enemies close.

My girl here has a point, we’ve been told that the Duffy’s and the Carrington’s have been friends for years but there is such a thing as loyalty to your loved one no? On the other hand there is something so cute seeing two friends laughing up a storm. The real truth here is that I’m a messy bitch and I live for this drama.

@pixilated: And one final word to the wise-- the Marthas of the world better throw caution to the wind and watch their back, I’m tryna steal your mans <3

I don’t know pixie, Jared seems pretty enamored with the one, the only, Willa Duffy, are the Marthas of the world the real threat here?

@pixilated: I don’t care who you are, if you have heart eyes for Jared Caldwell, I suggest wearing shades so I can’t pick you out of a crowd.

This concludes our honest review. If you didn’t see yourself mentioned don’t get comfortable, either you didn’t do anything worthy of a mention which *yawn* or we’re biding our time to comment on all the messy things you do. Both options make me want to spill all your deep dark secrets but my partner says waiting is key to ultimate satisfaction.

Until next time,

xoxo

#carrington gala.#an honest review.#review.#sarah.#tyler.#drew.#willa.#charlie.#jared.#victoria.#juniper.#bella.#i spent more time on this than i have for any of my assignments all semester tbh #AND WE WORKED SO HARD #WE HOPE YOU LIKE IT

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feminismforlesbians · 7 years

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I mostly see accounts of people who were terfs in their youth and changed their mind. What made you go the other way?

@bluegone

I’m finally back at my laptop.

(I had this huge essay going in reply to this and then realized that absolutely no one would read of all it and started from scratch).

I’d have to agree with some of the people who commented on this through replies or reblogs while I was away—-I have never seen someone who was a “terf in their youth” shift entire ideologies into liberal feminism. You’ll see a lot of people apologize profusely for being a transphobic cis gay before opening their eyes to tumblr dot com and becoming an instant trans inclusionist. That means that as young 14, 15, 16 year olds (their youth) they had never heard of gender identity vs sex or else didn’t know that attraction based on sex, which was their natural attraction, was a bad thing. It doesn’t mean they were “terfs”. It means they were young gay or bisexual kids who hadn’t ever been exposed to gender theory before and now have subscribed fully to it, apologies for the past crime of feeling sex-based attraction always ready to be offered up. They didn’t change their minds from one ideology to another; they simply subscribed to one without comparison to anything else.

I actually fully engaged in one movement, then consciously made the decision to subscribe to a different one.

I’ve been on this hellsite for a very long time. I’m 21 now and I was either 14 or just newly 15 when I first ~made an account. The mainstream “LGBT and feminist movement” on here is liberal trans-inclusive ace-inclusive feminism. It’s large, it’s the default, it’s the social justice community you participate in unless 1) you know there’s a different one you value and you find it or 2) you find a different one through the mainstream and value it (a la me). This mainstream collective has enjoyed trends such as monosexual privilege, gender bang pt 1, mogaii, split attraction model, gender bang pt 2, “q*eer”, and others. I was involved in all aforementioned and the others in between. I believed myself to be bisexual when I first started, because I knew I was attracted to girls and I assumed I was attracted to guys. The monosexual privilege, mogaii, and split attraction model trends all did fantastic jobs of reinforcing this internalized heterosexism but also created a substantial amount of internalized lesbophobia. Gender bang pt 1 and the split attraction model together also created some short-lived but intense body sex dysphoria (wherein I would find myself browsing through packers and binders and shutting my eyes while using the restroom, despite still knowing myself to be a woman) because between the pressure to hyperdefine every aspect of my attraction and to deconstruct my gender, I went through the extra identity crisis that was never needed. This is all a very compressed version of the experience, and is more of a background for the events that started the momentum to my switch in ideologies.

The tumultuous gender and sexuality crises that I personally experienced as a result of these trends lasted from about the ages 14 to 18; I didn’t start to drift away from the libfem community until I was 20. It was not the personal crises that made me leave, and it’s not my crying about them, about my individual woe-is-me tale that makes me a “terf”. It’s the foundation, though, and that’s why it’s worth mentioning. So you are aware I am not talking out of my ass when I describe things in the libfem community, like language used, priorities made, or the effects on young and/or gay people. I’m not talking out of my ass because I was fully subscribed to it for years; enthusiastically and wholeheartedly. It was my community.

By the time I was about 18-19 I had finally just let myself be a girl and the sex dysphoria had dissipated along with the frantic attempts to gender-trend myself so that I could make my sexuality “make sense”; I knew I was attracted to girls and though I assumed I must have been attracted to guys, I couldn’t describe how and gender-trending seemed to be the answer. I let that go, the gender-trending part, and then I was just a “cis” bisexual girl. I was okay with that; I accepted that trans people were The Most Oppressed. I knew (and still know) that trans people are deserving of safety, and health care, and that dysphoria can be life threatening. I was content with the standards that trans people came first. Trans women are women and trans men are men, check your cis privilege, and so on.

And then somewhat of a trio of things of happened in quick succession: there was finally that “duh…I’m a lesbian” moment, a wave of gender theory craze that I call gender bang pt 2, and then I got involved in the ace diskhorse. When I finally let myself be a lesbian it was like…learning to fly. For about two seconds. I just felt free from the discomfort and frustration and pain I’d put myself through trying to convince myself I was attracted to men when I really just wasn’t. And then I came out as a lesbian on here, on this hellsite, and I got people telling me, immediately, that that was great as long as I wasn’t One Of Those Lesbians. The terfy ones. Suddenly it became imperative that every time I talked about women I said and trans women. It was with my own internal freedom to be attracted only to women that I finally saw that the reverse was true in this community I was a part of. I was friends with straight women, bisexual women, pansexual women, q*eer women, q*eer nonbinary people, and many trans people. And they were all attracted to men. And what I watched was how normalized and encouraged attraction to men was—how the “thirst” for men was being called empowering and sexy and “q*eer”. Maybe it is empowering and sexy (it’s certainly not “q*eer”), but not when attraction women was either hush hushed or practically infantilized. Attraction to men was loud and suggestive and sexual and humorous and encouraged; attraction to women was…not. This I noticed first. Men and women. And then I noticed something else. It was okay to connect men to penises. It was assumed, by nearly every person around me, that when one “thirsted for that dick” they were talking about a man and that was okay. If someone said “I really want to fuck her”, without even citing whether “cis” or trans, the entire community was on alert. If someone were to say “I would eat her out”, there would be goddamn riots in the name of transphobia. This was where I started think that it was kind of fucked up that people could be “transphobic” in talking about men and penises have it celebrated as feminist, and then utterly destroyed for talking about women and vulvas. This was where I started to wonder why it was okay for my straight female friend to talk about her thirst for men using explicit details involving dick, but it wasn’t okay for me, a lesbian, to have a sexual attraction to vulvas. This was where I started to want to ask questions about sex-based attraction (but I didn’t, because you don’t ask questions in libfem communities. You just accept, validate, and welcome everybody and shut your goddamn mouth if you don’t.)

This overlapped with the gender bang pt 2, which was a reinforcement of the gender theory that had been prevailing for a while but was more significant to me at the time. While I was now starting to wonder why people attracted to men could specify male genitalia in their attraction and lesbians weren’t permitted to do the same for women, there was beginning a larger push to pretend like biological sex didn’t exist at all. There was a push for people to believe that only gender, a concept of personal identity, factored into attraction. It was a push that made it so a woman was only a woman because she said so, and to speak of biological sex was to be transphobic. It was a push that deconstructed my womanhood and my sexuality in one blow. It was a push that further amplified discussions of “dick”, except now where my lack of participation in such talks would have been unnoticeable, it was a “red flag”. It was upsetting. It wasn’t trans people that were upsetting to me, or trans women, or trans “validity”. I wasn’t angry about the fact that trans people existed, I didn’t wish them ill or dead. I was angry that my femaleness, my womanhood, the part of who I was for which this movement claimed to stand for—feminism—was now the enemy. It was being erased. I was angry that my sexuality, which I had had barely a breath to revel in, which I had had denied to me through all this other genderist bullshit, was now treated as a “risk factor” for being a transphobe—the ultimate evil. I couldn’t say any of this, though, I couldn’t ask any questions, I couldn’t differ even slightly in opinion, or disagree with something or have some fucking boundaries, because this is the libfem circles we are talking about. So, instead, I just buried my thoughts because part of me felt that maybe I was evil for thinking that way.

And right around then I stumbled into the ace diskhorse. Yes, that one area within liberal feminism where there is the slightest variety—I say slightest because in fact, if you openly suggest ace exclusion as a libfem, you will be decimated just as you would for criticizing genderism. However, I say variety, because there are a decent amount of libfems who are ace exclusionists but subscribe to literally everything else in libfem rhetoric. That’s where I found myself, on another tiny blog, lurking curiously in these trans-inclusive gender-not-sex q*eer ace-exclusive posts. (Mind, I am ace exclusive. But that’s not what makes me a terf. Just an aphobe, apparently). This was where I learned that, hey, it was possible to not agree with every single little thing that the tumblr mainstream declared “valid”. I had never strayed away from the mainstream because I didn’t know of any other circle except, you know, terfs, which were obviously evil—so why would I have ever bothered to look at a so-called terf’s blog or in a “terfy” tag? I hadn’t. I hadn’t ever seen anything but the tumblr mainstream all very forcefully agreeing with each other, supported by kawaii banners and not much else. Yet here was the tiny ace-exclusive corner, where people actually discussed like, concepts, and constructs, and facts, and histories, and actual manifestations of oppressions. I saw people actually asking goddamn questions.

A few times, I would see an ace-inclusive libfem telling an ace-exclusive libfem that they were evil fucking aphobes that were “just as bad as terfs”. Privately, I would think, no, no I’m not like a terf. Terfs are evil! They want to kill trans women and are total fetishists! I don’t want to kill anyone, I know trans people. Just because I think maybe being female matters and that maybe it’s okay to be attracted to sex, does not mean I’m a terf.

So it was all happening in congruence: I was a lesbian finally free from her own internalized lesbophobia, looking to embrace and revel in my sexuality after hating it for so long, as the community I trusted told me that it was wrong to desire vulva but empowering to suck dick. I was starting to look up and outside and thinking about asking questions just as I discovered that questions could be asked. I was thinking.

I can identify a moment that could be called the catalyst.

I was perusing my ace-exclusionist corner, and an ace-exclusionist libfem had made a post about asexuality that a “terf” had dared agree with. There was no mention of trans people or sex or gender on either end and still the libfem said:

“go get hit by a truck and die, terf”

It was so brutally violent and since the “terf” had said nothing that was trans or gender or sex related, I thought that this must mean that terfs are so universally evil they’re worthy of fucking death threats just for commenting on a post. And then I worried the thoughts I’d been having, the anger about devaluing my sex and sexuality in the name of trans activism, were terfy. And so I clicked on that terf’s blog, to see how maliciously cruel and hateful these terfs were so that I could reaffirm my previous loyalty to trans-inclusive feminism.

Except what happened was that I clicked on that terf’s blog and she wasn’t the spawn of Satan. I clicked on people she reblogged from and people they reblogged from and soon found myself lurking in honest-to-God terf circles. It wasn’t violent. It wasn’t evil. No one was asking for the rapes and murders of trans women. No one was fetishizing women. There were black terfs and brown terfs and disabled terfs and lesbian terfs and bisexual terfs and young terfs and older terfs. These terfs weren’t at all the kawaiied pasteled hivemind that libfem was. They actually talked about things; they explored, explained, and support ideas, history, facts, and values. It was invigorating. They didn’t all agree all the time all at once and no one was threatening lives for having a different perspective. Their commonality? In the most basic definition, these trans exclusive radical feminists believed in sex-based oppression, in sex-based attraction, and in the prioritization of women in feminism. Obviously there’s much more to it than that; that’s what made it so fascinating, this movement that had a foundation and entire layers of analyses and arguments and facts and history and convictions.

I lurked and I lurked and I lurked and then I said fuck it, and I made a blog. I believe that gender is a social construct, that biological sex is fact, that sex-based oppression exists; I don’t want trans people dead, I don’t think trans people don’t deserve health care, I don’t think trans people don’t deserve safety. There’s more, but those are the baselines.

So I guess now I’m a terf that switched sides. And apparently deserving of things like getting hit by a truck and dying. Comes with the territory when you decide to be part of a movement that asks questions and doesn’t deny reality.

#terf #feminism #trans activism

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poipoi1912 · 7 years

Text

Carisi-centric thoughts on Ep 19x03

Yet another solid episode! This season is going to be a winner. Also, THE BARISI CORNER IS OFFICIALLY BACK :D

But first:

Overall Thoughts

OK, this wasn’t much to write home about, but it was more than serviceable. All three actresses were very good so they kept me engaged, the case was pleasantly twisty but not convoluted, Sonny had significant input as a lawyer (and I loved how Liv was all “we’ll follow Carisi’s suggestion!”) and Barba delivered a heated and eloquent closing argument. I enjoyed it.

Squad Thoughts

More sharing of personal information! I swear, Sonny and Fin have talked to each other more in these last two episodes than they did in the previous 3 2 seasons! And they didn’t need some random case-related segue, either. This week, they were just driving to a crime scene, and they were shooting the breeze on the way there. You know, like normal colleagues do. Like real people do. Not cardboard cutouts. Something small like that, something as silly as stealing candy as a little boy, it can breathe life into a scene which would otherwise be mundane.

The thing is, even when an episode is not as exciting, it’s still worth watching just to see our characters interacting and being friends. That’s what SVU seemed to have forgotten, and it’s also the key to making a watchable procedural. Let’s face it, all the cases have been done before (often by SVU itself, because it’s been on for a hundred years), but the team interactions can )and should) be enough to maintain the viewers’ interest. This season, it’s clear the team dynamics are being cultivated, instead of being ignored, and that makes me happy.

The Barisi Corner

WE'RE BACK.

Just like I hoped, it's like S18 never happened. We're back to the S17 Barisi dynamic of friendly teasing and inside jokes. In the deleted scene from the premiere, we got the classic "booyah, Fordham law" type of interaction, except in its advanced S17 form. Where in S16 Barba would be biting with his remarks, in S17 and in the 19x01 deleted scene he was just making a joke for the sake of a joke, because that's what they do. Sonny tries to impress Barba, Barba is totally impressed, and then he makes a joke to pretend he's not actually appreciative of Sonny's input.

In this episode, we got an even more advanced interaction. We got Sonny making a smart legal observation not just to impress Barba, but because he wanted to contribute to the case. And, just like in S17, Barba was impressed, and then he used a joke not to diss Sonny, but to praise him.

See, there are two kinds of humorous Barisi interactions.

There's "Sassy Sonny Tries to Impress Barba" which comes complete with Sonny's dimples, and Sonny's smirks, and Sonny's cocky remarks like, "Oh, Rafael, are you mad you didn't think about it first?" This type of Barisi interaction always ends with a Barba side-eye and a snarky comeback. When Barba knows that Sonny is flaunting, he's always quick to shut it down. That's the joke. Sonny starts blathering on about a hypothetical argument, just to show off his legal skillz, and Barba is amused, but he also acknowledges the alterior motive, i.e. Sonny's desire to get Barba's approval.

But then there's "Dedicated Sonny Tries to Crack the Case" which comes with Sonny's frown and Sonny's desire to get justice, and Sonny's casual use of legal terminology like "obfuscated." This type of Barisi interaction always ends with Barba subtly praising Sonny, using a joke to cover up a genuine compliment. When Barba knows that Sonny is trying to be helpful, he's always quick to encourage it. That's Barba's favorite thing. Seeing Sonny creatively solving a legal problem with no ulterior motive. Sure, their games are fun, and they've been fun for 3 2 seasons now, but at the end of the day they're both trying to get justice, and Barba loves it when Sonny focuses on their work.

That's the thing. Both Sonny and Barba have evolved. Sonny used to thirst for Barba's approval, early on, in S16, but soon after that he found his confidence, and his footing, and his place on the team. He still tries to show off for Barba, because it's fun, but that's no longer his main motivator when he speaks legalese. Sonny isn't a law student looking to get that A, he's a lawyer looking to get that D. And his actions and words have come to reflect that. Now he doesn't just state the obvious as Barba jokes "save it for night school." Now, Sonny has original ideas which can actually help SVU.

And Barba, who treated Sonny so condescendingly at first, Barba has come to see the change in Sonny as well. The humorous element of their interactions persists, because Barba is a snarky bastard, but now those same interactions are loaded with respect. With friendship. With flirtation. Barba is no longer dismissive of Sonny, and hasn't been for a long while. Barba sees Sonny as a useful presence in the squad, with legal knowledge the other cops don't possess, and it's clear he welcomes Sonny’s observations. It’s right there in his smile smirk. Barba is willing to listen, and he’s even willing to entertain the notion that Sonny just might think of something he didn't, which is beautiful to see :')

Barisi Hopes

Now all I want is that other type of S17 interaction, the quiet support. Sonny always supported Barba in tougher moments, like the death threats (what death threats lol?), or a trial gone wrong, but Barba also supported Sonny, especially during that Catholic Church case, as we all remember. I'm loving the new showrunner's tendency to use humor to display the bonds between our characters, it's just the perfect thing to balance out the grim nature of the cases, but I'd love to see some more muted, more emotional moments between them (between all of them, but Barba/Carisi especially, lol). We have an entire season ahead, so there's still plenty of time. I'll be waiting.

For now, I'm just happy the classic Barisi dynamic is back.

I've said it time and time again, and I don't even mean romantically (that's what fic is for). Those two characters, Barba and Carisi, they have a dynamic that's gold. Clashing personalities (Sonny is dorkier, Barba is more sarcastic), contrasting temperaments (Sonny is sunnier, Barba is a little more bitter), common interests (the law), a reluctant mentor-mentee relationship (which has evolved now that the student is no longer a student, though he's far from being a master), a constant willingness to joke back-and-forth (which keeps building up their relationship and strengthens their bond), fundamental differences which breed a potential for unexpectedly emotional moments ("I admire your...", because Sonny is an openly affectionate person, and Barba and his wide eyes tend to shy away from affection), it's all there.

Good writing, plus a willingness to explore that bond, plus the natural ease Peter and Raul have with each other as actors, plus Sonny’s sweetness and Barba’s sass = television gold. And Barisi gold :’)

Yummy Thoughts

Barba was flirting. End of story. Textbook “there is no heterosexual explanation for this.” And I’m grateful.

Barba Thoughts

I’ve always said it, I prefer seeing “shrewd legal mind” Barba instead of “slave to his emotions” Barba, but the latter sure is fun to watch. That closing was intense, and you could see that Raul really dug his teeth into those lines. I mean, damn. It’s not every week that he gets to really show off, with more than an eyebrow raise or a smirk, but when he does, wow. I was just thinking, they rarely let Raul have a legitimate monologue, even though he’s a lawyer and theoretically we could be watching his opening and/or closing arguments every week. This episode tells me that the writers might be saving those moments, and using them sparingly, so they’ll have more of an impact. And I think they’re right.

That said, I wonder if we’ll be seeing a focus on Barba’s more emotional side, to better juxtapose him to the upcoming ADA, who’ll be more black-and-white and (I’m assuming) less emotional. If so, this was a smart way to start doing that. In this episode, we still saw how smart Barba was, but we also saw a passion we don’t often see from him. I’m assuming Barba and Peter Stone will clash on more than their positions, they’ll clash on philosophy, as well, and I hope this was an example of that. We have to see the “new” (but old) Barba, he has to be established first, under the new showrunner’s reign, and then we can be introduced to Stone, and see what they have in common and what they’ll never agree on.

Stray Thoughts

Just like I thought, last week's dramatic ending (and Sonny’s potential subsequent trauma) was not directly referenced. It may come up again in the future, but again, as I said in last week's post, this is classic Original L&O stuff, a self-contained dramatic episode which ends and is never mentioned again. L&O in its earlier seasons was much less serialized, and I think the new showrunner is bringing that back. I don't mind it.

Another thing I didn’t mind? Flirty Sonny using his masculine wiles to cozy up to that witness and get her to help. Now that’s how you use your assets :D

“CONFIRMED.” I love Fin.

That old high school pic? I love that NBC employs people who have a passion for graphic design :’)

More background on Sonny’s family! The show remembers he has a niece! His mom used to cover for him for childhood shenanigans! He went to confession for stealing candy! Classic Carisi material. And continuity galore. This is the Sonny we know and love.

Amanda dismissively saying “pills, booze” to judge a woman who was on prescribed anxiety meds and enjoyed, like, a beer? Never change, Amanda. actually, please change (that said, yay for continuity!)

What a waste of Annabeth Gish.

So Brooke Shields is the grandma? Wasn’t that what everyone guessed? I was trying to come up with other guesses because I actually believed them when they said “no one has guessed who she’ll play”. Oh well. That said, she looked amazing, and I’ve always liked her. It’ll be nice to have someone with a (seemingly) kinder demeanor fighting against Liv. Not a criminal or a lawyer, you know? We haven’t seen that before.

Amanda and Liv’s jackets keep slaying my existence every week.

WHY DIDN’T WEE SONNY’S REACTION TO “YUMMY”???? HUH???? WHERE IS THAT CLOSE-UP OF HIS SMIRKY DIMPLY LIL’ FACE???

Did I write more than 900 words of this post about a 5-second Barisi interaction? HELL YEAH I DID :D

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gemmabetes-blog · 7 years

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Diabetes Why?

Hello everyone! I‘m back for a little catch up. Been a while since I’ve posted and that’s been due to two things:

I’ve had no time to just sit and write for weeks now

I’ve also had a bit of writer’s block

But I’ve decided to bundle a few smaller topics into one and update you all with how I’ve coped this last month or so.

One of the things I wanted to discuss was the struggle when sugar’s run high. I have previously posted about hypos, but just as horrendous as it is to feel as though your cells are vibrating, it is also horrible to experience being high - known as being ‘hyper’ and a common misconception is that being hyper is like being hyper-active and experiencing a sugar rush where you’re practically up the walls, but that couldn’t be further from the truth.

In saying that, it is probably far easier for a non-diabetic to imagine the symptoms of a high blood sugar than a low blood sugar, and that’s because you’ll be familiar with some of the symptoms (although probably not all at the same time). Here’s a non-exhaustive list of some of the symptoms experienced when sugar’s run high:

A mouth like the Sahara (“Because waiting for [a good reading] is like waiting for rain in this draught” - Hilary Duff spoke to me on a diabetic/spiritual level with that one)

Needing to pee every two minutes (honestly you get a right workout climbing the stairs to the loo that often)

Thirst (drink, pee, drink, pee…)

Sometimes I’m hungry (this is the most annoying type of hunger as you probably shouldn’t eat)

Exhaustion/Fatigue (making the stair-climbing even more difficult)

If I had to compare symptoms, I would probably say that being hypo (low) feels worse, however, being high has a much more significant impact mentally. Seeing a high blood sugar is extremely disheartening and it’s also worrying. As a diabetic you’re well versed in the problems you can face should your sugars get out of control, including dialysis, amputation and blindness. Every single time I see a high blood sugar pop up on that little machine, this fear shoots through me, because things like dialysis are a very real threat if your sugar is constantly out of control. It is very difficult when anyone (particularly a non-diabetic or a know-it-all doc) tells you that “all you need to do is…”, because it is far more difficult than simply changing a part of your diet.

As the weather has become increasingly warmer, my control has had to change. I’ve reduced my Levimir (this is my background insulin) from 10 units at night and 4 units in the morning to 9 units at night only. However, I have now noticed that my sugar is much more up and down than it was. After I eat my sugar spikes up to the high-teens and then drops down to either in-range or hypo, so my ratios are correct, but I definitely need another dose of Levimir throughout the day to prevent my sugars from spiking up so high initially. For this I’ll probably adjust to 9u at night and 3u in the morning. BUT in better news, I have figured out that I need exactly 2u of NovoRapid (fast acting insulin) for a magnum #SummerSorted!

I’ve not had a great experience with consultants or most of the medical staff I’ve met since being diabetic, not to say I haven’t met some amazing doctors or nurses, but overall the experience has been largely negative. So I’ve grown accustomed to attempting to understand my diabetes by myself and not relying too much on my consultants. I have found that DAfNE has been a blessing in this case though, as at least I have something to refer to when I’m not sure about things.

But in a more positive light, as a wonderful birthday present, I got to see Ed Sheeran perform at the O2 a couple weeks ago! Myself and my best friend Abbey went and it was absolutely wonderful. It was the first concert I went to that was standing (and my legs were broken for the next three days) so naturally I had a few diabetic worries: What if I went hypo? Will they let me in with an orange juice? (particularly so soon after the Manchester attacks, the security was much higher) What if my sugar was high and I needed the toilet? (we had great places so that would’ve been pretty annoying). So before we set off I packed an orange juice (henceforth referred to as an OJ) and some glucotabs just in case. The first set of security guys didn’t seem to see my OJ, so that was the first obstacle out of the way, but then there was more security before we went in and it was more thorough. Fuuuuuuuuck sake. I just said to the woman “I have a carton of OJ in there but I’m diabetic so I need it, is that okay?” and she just said “I didn’t see anything” and moved me on (thank you security lady!) Before we’d even left I had a hypo, which I overcorrected, and so I shot up to about 21 as we were eating our nandos, but I didn’t correct it. Thankfully I didn’t, because towards the end of the opening act’s performance, I dropped to around 4 and that arrow of doom was telling me I was going straight down, I thought “please no not now”. I downed the OJ and on later testing I’d dropped more, so I stuffed down some glucotabs (thank the lord I got in with both) and got my sugar to about 6. Following a lot of jumping and screaming, my sugars steadied around 5/6 and I had the occasional glucotab just to be sure. Thankfully this kept me going but I reckon all would’ve been fine had I not had the earlier hypo. But the experience has given me much more confidence in handling my diabetes whilst standing at a concert - hopefully I’ll eventually get to festival level, as that is another goal of mine.

Ed!

It would really be lovely to feel like a 22 year old who can go to a concert or a festival or travel halfway across the world and not concern herself with the stress of diabetes and what will happen if I’m hypo or if I run out of hypo treatments. Or even to worry about how big of a bag I’ll have to bring to carry around so many hypo treatments with me. I see people my age travelling across the world and they’re out exploring all day, and go into the night without having to think about things like is their insulin cool enough? Do they have enough testing strips? Have they adjusted their insulin correctly to climb a massive hill and walk around all day because that was a last minute decision? I would love to be in a position where I had my diabetes well enough controlled that something like that wouldn’t stress me out, but I can’t at this stage. As I’ve said since starting this blog, I want to be honest, open and explore the emotional impact that living with diabetes has, and unfortunately these worries come with the package. It can feel extremely unfair at times but it’s just the way my life is and complaining about how unfair it is won’t help me live with it and won’t help me achieve my goals.

So apologies for my very delayed blog post, but in some ways it’s a good thing - my life is in a good place right now and it’s certainly kept me busy, however I will continue to post as often as I can. Again, if you have any comments or suggestions (especially suggestions - please help me with my writers block!) please let me know!

Love,

Gems

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funnythingshere0-blog · 6 years

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Sex addict mum-of-three spent up to SEVEN HOURS a day having sex and craved it every minute she was awake ...

New Post has been published on http://funnythingshere.xyz/sex-addict-mum-of-three-spent-up-to-seven-hours-a-day-having-sex-and-craved-it-every-minute-she-was-awake/

Sex addict mum-of-three spent up to SEVEN HOURS a day having sex and craved it every minute she was awake ...

IMAGINE craving sex every minute of the day. It may sound funny, ridiculous even – but in truth, it’s all-consuming, exhausting, and agonisingly disappointing.

According to the Royal College of Psychiatrists, four per cent of the population are sex addicts – and a quarter of them are women.

Rebecca Barker

Mum-of-three Rebecca Barker’s addiction to sex led to her craving it every minute she was awake

In July this year, sex addiction was formally recognised as a mental health condition by the World Health Organisation, who defined the disorder as an inability to control intense sexual urges.

This move could lead to treatment being made available on the NHS, similar to that available to alcoholics and drug users.

This is welcome news to sufferers like mum-of-three Rebecca Barker, whose addiction to sex led to her craving it every minute she was awake. With one partner she made love for up to seven hours a day, but her desire was never satisfied.

The 37-year-old, originally from Tadcaster, Yorkshire, lives with her partner Jean-Marc, 54, who is a farmer in the Vienne in western France. She explains…

Rebecca Barker

Rebecca self-diagnosed herself as a nymphomaniac in 2014

I’ve always had a really high sex drive. I lost my virginity at 15 and I met the father of my first two children, now aged 18 and 14, when I was 16. It was then my love of sex kicked in.

We’d make love every day, but as the years went by and I gave birth to our two kids, life took over.

I was 24 when I decided I wanted to leave the marriage and I moved to France to live with mum.

My mum, Jannine, owned a farm in Vienne, central France. Six months later I was out with mum when I met a guy at a barbecue. It was love at first sight.

We were both infatuated and I couldn’t keep my hands off him. We’d have sex most days and in 2010 we had a daughter, now eight, together.

I moved in with him and we got engaged, but as we settled down with my two kids and our daughter, I began to feel insecure and unsettled.

I criticised myself constantly and when I tried to talked to my partner he just didn’t understand.

Eventually I saw my doctor and was prescribed medication for anxiety. It was around then, in 2014, when my sex drive tipped over into addiction.

Rebecca Barker

Insatiable Rebecca made love to one partner for six hours a day – but it wasn’t enough

But every minute I was awake I had obsessive thoughts about sex. When I gave in to temptation I briefly felt better about myself, less stressed and anxious, but there was no longer-term satisfaction — as soon as it was over, all I could think about was doing it again.

Obviously my fiancé couldn’t stay at home with me all day in bed, but as he was walking out of the room to go to work I would cry and beg him to stay.

By now my mental health had descended to such a state I was suffering from a severe bout of depression.

Looking back I can see why – I’d moved to France. I had a toddler under two with my new partner, as well as the older kids.

However, we didn’t have a place of our own and we were living with his parents.

Rebecca Barker

Rebecca suffered from a severe bout of depression

Feeling insecure and in the grip of despair – sex was all I could think about. It would drive me crazy.

I’d struggle to hold a conversation with someone. I’d stare at their lips. Everything reminded me of wanting to have sex.

I saw myself as a failure. I needed my partner’s approval and craved sex around the clock to get that.

We both worked from home running a farm together and I’d pester him for sex several times a day.

Even though it was exhausting, he was thrilled – at first.

Rebecca Barker

One partner suspected Rebecca of having an affair because of all the sex

It drove him mad. We were having sex five times a day to satisfy my needs, yet it wasn’t enough.

I was like a drug addict needing an instant high. As soon as I got it I’d want another one.

Sex was a means to an end and something I needed to relieve the obsessive thoughts in my mind.

It became draining for my partner. Months went by and yet every day I’d beg him for sex.

I was so obsessed with sex. No wonder my partner was convinced I was having an affair too.

In the end I couldn’t risk going out and became a recluse.

A year later I started seeing a psychiatrist for my depression. When I mentioned my sex addiction to her, she did change the combination of my medication.

It was then I discovered why my body craved sex – it’s one of the easiest ways to get a quick fix of “happy hormones”.

But the new meds didn’t stop me wanting to have sex – instead they just dimmed the sensations I felt.

Rebecca Barker

Rebecca moved in with her parents to try to take her mind off sex

I finally opened up to my mum and took the kids to stay with her. I needed to escape my fixation with sex and concentrate on feeling better about myself.I did a lot of online research about my thirst for sex and concluded that I was a nymphomaniac – a woman with an uncontrollable sexual desire.

I finally left my partner in 2014. Away from him, my sex drive calmed down.

But then I had a rebound relationship shortly after which was very intense. He laughed when I explained I was a nymphomaniac.

I told him it wasn’t funny wanting sex all of the time – and that I was never ever fulfilled.

But he had a high sex drive too. Sometimes we could make love for seven hours a day.

But we weren’t compatible outside of the bedroom and so we split.

Months later I met another adventurous man. Again it wasn’t serious – the relationship was based around sex.

In both relationships I even tried couple swapping – but it didn’t do anything for me.

Characteristics of sex and love addiction

Becoming sexually or emotionally involved with people you don’t know well

Staying in and returning to destructive relationships

Compulsively jumping from one relationship to the next or sleeping with/being involved with more than one person at a time

Confusing sexual attraction with love

Feeling that you’re not good enough when you’re alone

Sexualising stress/guilt/lonliness/anger/shame

Using sex to manipulate others

Getting caught up in romantic or sexual fantasies

Attaching yourself to people who are emotionally unavailable

Avoiding physicial/sexual/emotional intimacy for fear of being vulnerable.

Anyone who is worried that they may be suffering with sex addiction – or if they feel someone they know has a sex addiction – should reach out to their GP for further help and advice.

I was choosing emotionally unavailable partners to protect myself from going down another dark path into obsessive sex.

In the summer of 2015, something clicked and I started to wean myself off the anti-depressants. At the same time, my desire for sex simmered down too.

I met with two psychotherapists who both said my fixation on sex was an obsessive compulsive disorder.

While I’ll always feel uncomfortable being labelled a sex addict, it was a relief to have a diagnosis. Finally I could understand how lost and scared I felt.

I realised I didn’t need sex to validate myself as a person. I could be loved and desired without needing constant sex.

In May 2015 I moved out of my mum’s and rented a house nearby. My landlord was Jean-Marc – straight away there was a spark between us. Within a month of moving in he asked me out on a date.

Rebecca Barker

Rebecca and her current partner are due to get married – and have sex once a day

For the first six months we were having sex three times a day. It’s calmed down now to once a day.

I’m finally in a stable relationship, my moods are tempered, and I don’t constantly crave sex. If I ever have anxiety issues, I talk them through with Jean-Marc – we’re getting married this summer.

When I look back at that period of my life, I felt so lost. Sex addiction is a massively misunderstood medical condition and people can get help for it.

Relationship counselling service Relate describes sex addiction as “as any sexual activity that feels out of control”. If you’re concerned about you or your partner, call them on 0300 100 1234.

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Several celebrities have confessed to having suffered with sex addiction in the past, including comedian Russell Brand.

In a 2007 excerpt from his book, My Booky Wook, he said that sex provided him with “a breathing space, when you’re outside of yourself and your own head”.

Here a woman reveals how her sex addiction fuelled hook ups nearly drove her to suicide.

Jace Downey reveals her sex addiction almost drove her to suicide

Source: https://www.thesun.co.uk/fabulous/7089775/sex-addict-mum-craved-sex-every-minute/

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