#i can't do this anymore like. i fucked myself over. i was fucked over. i just want to be important to someone
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Building Each Other Up Pt. 4
Read Pt. 1 here, Pt. 2 here, and Pt. 3 here.
Mark's POV:
As I stood on stage, spotlight shining down on me, I couldn't help but feel exhilarated. The months of grueling training had paid off, and I had just won the bodybuilding competition. The crowd clapped for me as I raised my trophy high, a triumphant grin spreading across my face. I guess Shane was worried for nothing – but I’m definitely not complaining.
After the competition, amidst the congratulatory hugs and handshakes from fellow competitors, I spotted Ali in the crowd, taking a picture of me, a proud smile on his face. Making my way over to him, I wrapped him in a tight embrace before leaning in to kiss him.
"Thanks for coming, babe," I said.
"Of course, I wouldn't miss it," Ali replied.
As we pulled apart, Ali's eyes sparkled with curiosity. "I can't help but wonder what it would be like to be in a competition," he admitted, a hint of longing in his voice.
I studied Ali's physique, admiring the toned muscles beneath his shirt. "You know, you're certainly ripped," I said, running a hand over his arm. "But I understand what you mean, this is definitely different.”
Then, a mischievous grin spread across my face as an idea formed in my mind. "Well, why don't you try my body on for size?" I suggested.
Ali shot me a confused but intrigued look. "What do you mean?" he asked.
I explained how “my trainer Mark” and I had discovered the ability to swap bodies back when I had first started training. "It could be a fun experiment," I added, a playful smirk tugging at the corners of my lips.
Ali's hesitation melted away as excitement replaced his initial skepticism. "Alright, let's do it," he agreed, a grin spreading across his face.
Grabbing the reserve potion I kept in my bag (yeah I lied when I told Shane there wasn’t any left), Ali and I found an empty part of the center's changing area to do the swap. I figured I’d let him enjoy my victory a bit too. He quickly took off his shirt and flexed for me, giving me a better entry point.
Pushing into him, I felt a familiar rush just like so many times before. Once inside, I called out for Ali, but there was no response. He must've fallen into his subconscious. But I realized there was someone else in here too.
“Shane?” I said in disbelief "How long have you been in here?"
"I've been trapped in here a few days," Shane replied, his voice filled with resignation. “I cant seem to move or turn off my subconscious like usual, I must’ve screwed up the potion.”
Shit, I thought to myself. I've been absolutely railing the fuck out of Ali the past few days, and he’s been awake for it all.
"How did you enjoy getting dicked down by yourself?" I asked a bit nervously.
"It could be worse," Shane replied, his tone nonchalant. "But I'm still straight, and I don't wanna keep doing that."
Damn, I thought. Well, okay, not a problem. And with a mental push, I sent him back over the mental cliff, watching as he fell back out, still in my body. Awesome, I thought to myself.
"Why didn't you give me my body back?" Shane protested, his voice filled with frustration. "You're not even using it anymore."
"I need it for something more important," I laughed. "And based on what you just said, you probably wouldn't be down for it."
Before Shane could protest or follow, I quickly got dressed, left the changing area, got into my – or Ali’s - car and drove away.
---
Driving down the road, I ran my hands across his arms and abs. Damn, this body was fit—not as huge as mine, but just as firm and even smoother skin. As I drove up to Ali’s apartment, Ali, was just now mentally waking up.
"What's going on?" he thought, clearly disoriented.
"Don’t worry, babe, just taking us home," I replied mentally.
Once we got inside, I warned him that this might feel a little weird and told him to relax.
"Just let go and enjoy," I said soothingly.
With a push, I sent Ali over the mental cliff—his consent making the process even easier than with Shane earlier. The familiar rush of pleasure surged through me, the same wave I had ridden last time when I became the sole occupant of that body.
Ali, now in Shane’s body, fell on the ground and looked down at his borrowed physique, flexing his muscles and marveling at the transformation.
"How does it feel?" I asked, my voice laced with excitement.
"Unbelievable," Ali replied. "This body is incredible."
I grinned. "Well it looks fucking great on you."
“How's my body?" Ali asked, a playful glint in his eyes.
"Ali, you have no idea how fantastic your body feels. Well, maybe you actually do," I laughed.
Ali chuckled and then got up to admire his new physique in the mirror, flexing his bicep. I walked up behind him and started feeling all his muscles. This was different—feeling him from the outside. I mean, being in him was great, but this was something else entirely.
"It's been a long day—a long month—for you, babe, all that hard work in the competition," I joked with him. " Why don’t you relax and let me take care of you?" I started moving my hands down to play with the waistband of his briefs.
We shed our clothes and made our way to the bed. I started to get a bit dominant with him, pushing him down into the mattress and lifting his legs up.
He looked at me with a challenging grin. "Let's not forget who's who here." In a swift motion, he flipped over and pushed me down into the bed.
My stomach filled with butterflies. Even though I had been friends with Shane for years and then had possessed his body, I had never gotten to see him up close quite like this.
"It’s cheat day now. It’s finally time for me to eat some cake," he said, smirking.
Without hesitating, he lifted my legs and stuck his tongue in my eager hole. He devoured me with a hunger that sent shivers down my spine, making me writhe with pleasure. I couldn't hold back the sounds of pleasure escaping my lips, lost in the intensity of the moment.
"Fuck yeah, Ali," I moaned.
He stopped eating me out and slowly came up to my face, placing his hand on my neck, applying just enough pressure to assert his dominance. Nibbling on my ear, he whispered, his voice dripping with authority, "I think that you mean 'Fuck yeah, Shane.'"
Damn, I didn't know where this dominant streak was coming from. If anything, Ali was always willing to submit. But the way he took control now was definitely hot.
As he lined up his cock and pushed in, I felt every inch of him stretching me.
"Ahhh, shit, babe, you feel so good," he groaned. "I know you haven't taken one in a while, babe, but my body should be all ready to take this massive dick," he continued, his voice husky with desire.
He was right. My body readily accepted him. And since it was his body after all, he knew all the right spots to drive me absolutely wild. Honestly, I couldn't remember the last time I was this turned on. Even fucking Ali in Shane's body couldn't compare to the pleasure I was feeling now. I started to think, “what if this is how its supposed to be.”
As he pounded into me, I realized I knew a few tricks to drive him insane as well.
Reaching up, I gently played with his nipples, causing him to involuntarily thrust his hips even deeper.
"Damn, babe, it's almost like you know my body better than I do," he chuckled.
I could sense he was about to cum, and just then, I tightened my hole and wrapped my feet around his back, holding him in me.
He came with such force that I think he surprised himself, his cum flooding my insides. As he came down from his high, he smiled at me, his expression content. "Good boy," he said, while still buried inside me. "Good boy."
As he stroked my cock, that affirmation was enough to send me over the edge, and I came all over my chest.
He leaned down and took a nice big lick of my cum, his tongue swirling around the salty liquid. "You taste amazing," he said, his voice husky with desire, before kissing me passionately and wrapping me into the biggest spoon hug from behind.
Tracing my muscles and running his hand through my hair, he kept saying "Good boy, Ali" in a calming voice, until we both fell gently to sleep.
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my stand in ep 4 thoughts, feelings, etc
WOW WA WE WAA THAT SURE WAS AN EPISODE HUH - happy to report i went back through the episode slowly this week and took notes and really tried to gather everything i wanted to say (but i will inevitably forget something)
🌸 ok disclaimers because i have a lot of them for this particular episode 🌸
i'm just a silly guy on the internet, i'm not an expert in mental health, psychology, body language, whatever. most days i can't even take care of myself. i'm just saying things recreationally.
PLEASE do not put novel spoilers in my replies, reblogs, or tags without a warning notice. i've got an itchy blocking finger for it these days.
i am treating ming and joe and everyone involved in this show as if they were real life human beings. ming was not born some mustache twirling villain sent from hell to make joe miserable. joe is not some pure angel descended from the clouds to do no wrong. everyone in this show exhibits very human behavior and that can be distressing under certain circumstances. i'm just going to comment on them as humans. i'm not interested in a round table discussion on why a character is irredeemable, the scum of the earth, etc. i'm just putting my thoughts out there and you can take them or leave them.
🌸 alright yucky disclaimer time over 🌸
the episode really just picks us back up where everything left off - and yet joe still made ming breakfast, and ming isn't stupid (well right now at least,) he knows something is off.
i am confused why tong needs to get married on this specific day. and like bro how fast are you getting married? relax. the whole thing is just unstoppable force (trajectory of this producers career) meets immovable object (tong's fuckass stubbornness) and the collateral damage is massive.
and then there's the question of did joe ever want to play a lead? or did he let his impulsiveness and hurt put a target on his back? (only emphasized by the fact that everyone assumed joe would turn down the role)
i DO apologize for all my doubt surrounding wut. he, ja, and may are the only people in this show with any god damn sense. maybe jojo and yim. we'll see.
getting into the confrontation at joe's work, i really don't think it's that surprising when we keep in mind ming genuinely has no fucking clue what is going on. all he knows is joe woke up, was acting weird, didn't come home, and then told him to pack up his shit and leave with ZERO explanation. like, joe's completely in the right, but i'd also be confused as fuck. (i wouldn't go to someone's work about it but, y'know, we know ming acts in extremes.)
and to me this is where it really became obvious that joe has always been able to overpower ming, to get away from him, as we have seen joe's physical prowess, we've seen what he's capable of, but he never uses his body to move ming away from him - that's not who joe is, he's not someone that would put his hands on another person like that. it's just another way ming and joe are the direct antithesis of each other.
it's my thought that the argument escalates because ming is used to getting everything he wants - except for tong, and now joe. when joe begins to push him away and deny him his substitution for tong i think ming lashes out in his hurt with a thought of "it's happening again, why doesn't anyone want me?"
i will say while i do believe sol has good intentions for the most part his white knighting is getting a little irksome. while convenient, it just shows how much he's still hovering and laying in wait for a chance with joe - he, too, is not respecting joe's wishes. no is a complete sentence, sol.
and then things continue back at home and joe finally, finally throws ming's words back at him: if i'm so terrible to be with, if you're so great, why are you wasting your time with me?
and ming doesn't have an answer. what ming DOES have is another back embrace, arms wrapped around joe as he asks "don't you love me anymore?" but is he asking joe or tong?
"although i'm not as good as tong" even now joe's rampant self worth issues are still at play but at least he finally knows he's worth more than whatever this is.
then the phone rings and to me, ming looks skittish. he looks shaken. he's never seen joe so angry and he's scared and as the call progresses that fear morphs into rage when sol calls joe. and the thing is, regardless of who played the main role, ming was never going to be happy. it was either going to be joe or tong playing opposite sol and neither of those things would have been acceptable.
and then i said, out loud, in my quiet office: OH! and promptly lost my shit in the group chat.
ming doesn't look wholly present after his act of violence. his face is vacant, like he isn't completely seeing or grasping what he's just done. i get the impression that ming isn't mentally well; stress and fear and anger have a way of making people do really fucking stupid things and as these things happen you risk falling into the sunk cost fallacy - you've already gone this far, you can't stop now - which all aligns with the obsessive behavior we've seen from ming in the past.
as joe wakes up and they talk once again joe doesn't blame ming, he blames himself for not seeing the writing on the walls even though it was written in invisible ink.
"all these times we were together did you ever love me?"
"you can't tell?"
again, so much of the blame and emotional responsibility of their situationship is put on joe and ming refuses to communicate any of his feelings, perhaps because he doesn't know how to after repressing everything for so long.
WE DIDN'T GET HOT KINKY CHAINED UP SEX THOUGH, WHY DOES GOD HATE ME SPECIFICALLY
but the way joe looks at ming as they linger there in the wake of joe's request looks like a goodbye, the way his eyes soak in every detail of ming's face. despite all of this and the nightmare it has turned into he did love ming, perhaps still does, and he does have some of those good memories he was so desperate to keep.
though like.. joe.... maybe we could consider a different career path??? instead of just jumping to risking our lives? like sure food service sucks, cashiering sucks, etc. but you aren't in danger of falling off any cliffs, you know? and let's be real, he could just go into modeling with those looks.
it's my impression that when ming calls joe he looks haggard, like he's lost numerous nights of sleep (and we really don't know how much time has passed) but either way it does seem like he's at least done some amount of reflecting. his voice comes across soft, subdued, and sincere.
and after everything, back in the present, we see ming. he's still in the apartment, desperately calling joe's name all these years later, still unable to sleep and waiting for joe to come home just like he asked him to years ago.
maybe ming never wanted to enter the entertainment industry before, but he has now. perhaps it was never for the attention or the money, maybe he chose to promote those watches because it was a reminder of the gift from joe. and maybe this job, in this specific industry, is the closest he can feel to joe now. and maybe with new influence and connections ming can find out why he was never able to tell joe he loved him before he lost him.
WHO KNOWS, NOT ME, CAN'T WAIT TO FIND OUT THO
#bunn meta#my stand in#my stand in the series#usersasa#clairedaring#i can never find a good place to mention it but in like ep 1 ming knows how joe takes his coffee#after just like 1 day with him so like ming IS paying attention and DOES care for joe#as we see reinforced with his little gifts and the way he went shopping with him and stuff#the things ming does to show his love and care are very blink and you'll miss it#and it's hard for me to squeeze in my thoughts on that between everything else going on
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zyn anon. again. lol
straight boy keeps joking that he got me addicted to his cock and he's pretty much right. i keep hooking up with him. its kind of cute, honestly. the first few times we hooked up he would apologize most of the time if he misgendered me, but now he doesn't. if anything he doubled down. i heard him bragging to his friends during a game about how he took a girls virginity in exchange for zyns, and "now shes over all the time". i don't think he knew i was awake either. i think he really likes that hes my first and only lol he's wo possessive about it
honestly i still get a little dysphoric over the whole thing but im getting more comfortable with the idea of legit becoming an actual girl for him. im doing more things to feminize myself around him and also in my day to day life. everything short of stopping T since thats kinda being used as primary birth control lol. which I know isnt foolproof. he wears condoms sometimes but pulls out the rest mostly.
but omg so maybe the third or forth time we had sex he finished in me after i begged him to (i wasn't thinking straight lmao) and fuuuckk it was so intense for the both of us. feeling him grind all the way in me as he came was incredible. he basically pinned me under him as he came, it was like he wanted to get as deep as he could. it did freak me out after though so now we're more careful but he wants me to go on birth control. he said hes gonna stop pulling out eventually, and birth control would be cheaper than daily plan B, and cheaper than a baby. im looking into getting an iud lmao. might even stop t after that. pregnancy scares me and i dont necessarily want to carry his baby after only fucking him for three weeks but god the idea is still really hot. he joked about baby trapping me yesterday and i had to pretend like it didn't make me soaked. its not even just a horny thought I get over after i cum anymore, becoming a girl for him is becoming more and more appealing
(Previously)
God, you're fucking cute, Anon. You don't necessarily want to have your nicotine "dealer's" baby after fucking him for a few weeks? A girl who wasn't made to be a breeding whore would put it in stronger terms - or at least not beg him for his cum in her unprotected pussy.
Still, as incredibly lame as your boyfriend's little drug empire is, I do have to commend him a little: he seems to know how to handle a girl like you. Just telling you that he's going to stop wearing a condom or pulling out, and letting you quiver and drip with the knowledge of what that would mean if you aren't careful, is both a good move and very funny. If you aren't going to get yourself knocked up, try out a hormonal IUD - I think it'd be good for you to get a little extra dose of female hormones, as you switch over to a new form of testosterone injections.
It's also really cute that you "still get a little dysphoric about the whole thing", because this is one of the clearest cases I've seen of a girl being desperate to be "persuaded" to "give up" her boy disguise. Come on, little lady. You showed him your pussy to be allowed to blow him for a discount, you spread your legs for the first time for him, and now a few weeks later you're only still on T because you can't stop yourself from taking his cum. You couldn't be throwing yourself at femininity much harder without putting on a pink floofy dress and batting your eyelashes at him.
Well, maybe that's up next. It's been a strong start, but you've still got room to grow. (And if you don't get that IUD quickly, you'll be growing sooner rather than later.)
#kink interactions#reorientation writing#reor: anon ask#ftm misgendering kink#ftm detransition kink#ftm girl#ftm breeding#reor: anon life story
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Blood Orange (Ch 2: The Bathroom)
Carmy Berzatto x Reader (R18, MDNI)
Rating: E (5.7k)
links: fic playlist, pinterest board, ao3 link, ch 1
Chapter Summary: No more fucking your boss. That’s what you’ve been telling yourself, but he doesn’t make it easy, even as you find yourself wanting to scream. Somehow it all falls away when you lower yourself to your knees before him. You don’t know if there’s any stopping this anymore.
Content Tags: work sex, blow jobs, mouth fucking, CUM PLAY, dom/bossy carmy, coworkers with benefits, carmy being difficult, mental illness, they/them reader, gender neutral reader, the usual
A/N: WHEW. It’s here! Thanks for waiting y’all. I think I embarrassed myself writing this one (flushed emoji). It’s ramping up. Next chapter is gonna be big one. Let me know what you guys think, and enjoy! <3
Before you go to work the next morning, you make yourself come on your fingers. It would've been twice if you had more time.
You open your eyes waking from a dream with his ghostly blue eyes and low voice, and you already know you're wet before you even touch yourself. The pads of your reaching fingers chase the tender spot Carmy stroked inside of you, but they don't quite make it. Of course they don't.
Fingering yourself eases the ache for a little while. On the early morning transit with headphones over your ears, you still manage to find yourself aching for him. The music doesn't cover up the sound of his voice, and you catch yourself grimacing in the faint reflection of the dirty metro windows.
This is not a good way to start your second day at work.
Since you left the walk-in yesterday, Carmy's been following you around like a mosquito in the summer, whizzing around your head, buzzing in your ears. You can't rid your thoughts of him. When you close your eyes, you're trapped in the fridge with him, again, and his fingers are deep inside you.
Fuck. You're standing in front of the restaurant, willing yourself to go in. Just stop it, you think to yourself.
You really should be more mad at him. He technically never apologized for insulting you, but you suppose you didn't expect him to in the first place. You didn't usually get apologies at places like this, from people like him. You don't want to get in the bad habit of expecting good things from broken people.
No more fucking your boss, you think resolutely to yourself, and that's the thought you meditate on as you open the door.
By this time yesterday, there were already a couple of people floating around the kitchen. Today, you find dim lights and silence. Your footsteps feel too loud on the white linoleum as you walk to the lockers to drop off your stuff. You can’t pretend to understand the schedule yet.
“Carmen?” You pace around again as you secure your apron with a tie. No response. Surely he's here, at least. Someone had to open the place.
You take a couple more steps when you hear his voice.
“No, I'm not—that's not what I was sayin’.” The direction of his voice sounds like it's coming from his office. “Of course I miss him. Sugar—” A pause. “I know. Yeah. It's bullshit.” He laughs then, you think. You can't measure how genuine it is. “You're bullshit. Look, I'll call you back later, okay? And I'll—yeah, I'll look at it. Promise. Yeah. Bye.”
It's quiet after that. You're standing there, not sure what to do with yourself when you hear footsteps. Sure enough, Carmy pops out of the office, and you catch just a glimpse of something haunted in him before surprise takes over.
“Hi,” you say at the same time he says, “Jesus Christ.”
“How long have you been here,” he asks, as you go, “That's an interesting way to pronounce my name.”
“Um,” you start, and he stares at you blankly, unreactive to your joke. Too early, you guess. “I just got here.”
“Okay. Cool. Uh…” Anxiety radiates off of him, making his hands fidget and run through untamed hair. Not that you were looking at his hands at all. “You’ll be doin’ prep again.”
“Alright.” You expected as such. You’ll probably be on prep for the rest of the week, if not the month. That’s how most places go, but this isn’t most places.
“Your station was dirty when you left yesterday.” You walk up to your station, and it’s spotless. “I had to clean it before I left.”
“Ah. I’m sorry about that,” you apologize quickly. I was preoccupied with other things, you think bitterly to yourself, thinking of locked doors and heated kisses. Not that you’ll mention it. “I’ll make sure to clean it this time.”
“Prep’s gonna be a bit different today,” he says, completely ignoring your apology. You bite the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from snapping. “You’re gonna inspect produce, and then you’ll prep the stock again. Correctly this time.”
“It was nearly perfect, I just misplaced it,” you mutter under your breath.
“Yeah, nearly.” Looks like he heard you this time. Asshole. He places a box of onions on your station, rattling the table slightly. “Do I have to tell you how to sort out the bad ones from the good ones?” You’re honestly not sure if he means that as a jab, but the way he says it makes your insides sizzle with irritation.
Don’t take it personally, you remind yourself. Don’t. Take. It. Personally.
“How about you show me just in case? Just so we’re on the same page.” It’s a wonder how calm you keep your voice. To your surprise, Carmy doesn’t roll his eyes, doesn’t sigh, he just nods and proceeds. Every time you think you’ll predict him properly, he does the opposite.
You follow the line of his callused finger pointing to brown splotches on some of the onions. Intently, studiously, you examine the dark spots (indicative of mold), the sprouts (initial stages of deterioration), and the mushy areas (a sign of decreasing freshness). He’s talking about details as he seems to do when it comes to food, even elaborating on the farming process, but you don’t quite pick up that part. You just pay attention to the parameters you need to follow.
No more fucking your boss, you remind yourself again, because you catch yourself aching at the sight of his fingers. Your eyes have a hunger of their own, flickering up and down his muscular arms. God damnit. Maybe there’s another reason you can’t quite pay attention today.
“Are you listening?” Carmy’s pointed question snaps you out of it. Fuck. You hope he didn’t catch you staring at his fingers again.
“If I can save it and just chop off the bad parts, then I should,” you regurgitate on instinct. “Those are the best ones to use for the stock. Otherwise, I should just toss it.”
For a split second, all he does is fix you with his focused stare. You feel the intensity of it in your chest, your beating heart fluttering with its weight. No matter how many times you scold yourself for finding him attractive, your eyes can’t ignore what’s right in front of them. You find yourself counting his moles.
“I caught you staring,” he murmurs, “for real this time.”
“I—uh—” Your eyebrows are so raised you’re sure they’re bound to shoot off your warmed face. He’s smiling like he knows something you don’t. You weren’t going to mention yesterday, and after your first interaction this morning, you were sure he wasn’t going to, either. Guess you were wrong again.
“I’ll be in the back if you need help. The others should be here soon.” He’s moving on without giving you a chance to recover. Your brain can’t process the shock. “Just call if you need anything."
Before you get a chance to scrounge up anything to say, you’re alone in the kitchen again.
This time I'm really gonna do it, you fume internally. Because you have a healthy amount of anger management, you don’t let yourself continue that thought.
Sydney is the third person to show up after you and Carmy. You give her a nod and a thin smile as she walks in, and she waves back. Soon after she arrives, the others trickle in one by one. As you're learning to expect, the quiet never lasts for long.
There are tasks circling you just like yesterday that you don't fully grasp yet. Everyone seems to be instinctively following their own schedule, their circadian rhythm matched to the chaotic ecosystem of the kitchen. It’s just as suffocating as it was yesterday. You remind yourself that as a new hire, you don't need to understand the madness yet. Nonetheless, an invisible pressure presses down on you.
“Hey, d'you mind telling me where this produce goes?” A triple stack of filled containers sits heavy in your arms. With Sydney out of the kitchen, Marcus is your next safest option in terms of coworkers. His head flicks up from where he was focused on kneading dough. A streak of white flour is across his nose.
“Oh, that one's bottom shelf, near the back.” He claps his dusty hands together, flour falling between them like snow. “Here, I'll just show you. You know where the walk-in is?”
With Marcus, it doesn't feel like there are any stupid questions. It's a gift you don't take for granted, especially around here. You let him lead you to the fridge again, even though you remember where it is. It doesn't hurt.
“Thanks. I'm, uh, still having a hard time figuring out where stuff goes,” you say after you put the produce away.
“It’s cool. It's only your second day, right?” You nod. “Just takes time. Don't sweat it. You ever work in a restaurant before?”
“Yeah, a couple of times.”
“Then you know what you're gettin’ into.” That makes you laugh.
“Sorta.” You shrug. “To be honest with you, I just need money, and I like cooking enough, so…now I'm here.” You're not quite as honest with how desperate your situation was on the verge of coming, but it's fine. Not really the time and place for it anyway.
“I gotcha. That's how it was for me too, actually.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. Well, that's how I started at McDonald’s. That was a while ago now.”
“I see. It's better here, I hope.”
“Hard to say,” he says, but there's a little smile on his face. “For the most part, Michael was cool, but—”
“Michael!” You blurt out, startling the both of you. “Holy shit, I'm sorry. I've just been trying to remember the name of the previous owner for forever now and—wow, sorry. I didn't mean to shout.”
“It's fine.” Marcus has this amused expression, but it dissolves quickly. “You met him?”
“I did. I came here a couple of years ago when I first moved. Just once, but—anyway, what's his deal?”
“His deal?”
“Yeah, like, why'd he give the restaurant away? Carmy said he didn't want it anymore.”
“Oh.” You can't read the way Marcus’ face shifts. “That's what he said?”
“...Yeah?”
“I see. Okay. Uh…” He pauses, scratching the back of his neck. “Look, I know how this sounds, but just try not to bring Mike up for now. It's still kind of a sore subject.”
“Ah, my bad.” Your brain instantly supplies stories of estranged families, sibling spats, and stolen money. You suppose it's a sour sort of relationship—something you're intimately familiar with. “Can I ask what happened, or…?”
“I'll tell you later,” he replies evasively. “You know what else they got you training on today?”
“No idea,” you answer honestly. The nosy part of you wants to hear more about the Berzatto family, but the responsible part of you reminds you to cool your jets. “Carmy just told me I was on produce. Know where he's at? I peeked into his office, but he wasn't there.”
“Oh, he just left.” Your blank stare makes him elaborate. “He's off doing Carmy things.”
“Doing Carmy things?” Looks like the person in charge has abandoned you yet again.
“Business stuff, probably.” Marcus shrugs. “He does that sometimes. He probably won't be back for a while, so I can help you with training for now if you want.”
“That would be great.” There's a remark on the tip of your tongue about poor management, but you hold it. “Is Carmy a better boss, at least?”
“Compared to Michael?” You recognize sadness in Marcus’ pinched brows, even if it's only momentary. “I dunno. It hasn't been long, but this place has been running more smoothly since he started doing things.” Your shocked expression makes him laugh briefly. “I know, it used to be worse if you can believe it.”
“I'm not sure that I can,” you admit.
. . . . .
The next several days at work continue to test your patience. While Carmy keeps you on prep, keeping your tasks simple, he continues to find ways to keep you on edge. You stiffen up every time he enters the kitchen, waiting for him to point out yet another mistake.
Chef, this cut's too uneven. Chef, you're taking too much time on this. Chef, you should’ve cut this part off. Chef, you’re creating too much waste.
Yes, Chef, you always reply, even as his comments become more and more grating. A childish part of you wants to do a worse job out of spite, but another part of you is hungry for his approval far more than you would ever admit. You wonder if he's this tough on everyone.
The incident in the walk-in does not get mentioned again. A childish voice in you wonders if Carmy has forgotten about it. Of course he hasn’t, but every time he critiques you, you wonder about the Carmy who kissed you. You wonder what that Carmy's thinking, because you have no clue.
Has he been thinking of you, too?
This is how things should be, you remind yourself after you touch yourself for the fourth night in a row to the thought of him. Your fingers are wet, and your wrist is embarrassingly sore. I can't have sex with my boss again. I just can't.
Would it be different if he also touched himself to thoughts of you?
You desperately suck your own cum off your fingers, and you wish it were his fingers instead. It doesn't taste the same.
The bright lights are irritatingly bright when you come in this morning. It looks like you're the first person here again, other than Carmy. You hear his irritated voice as soon as you enter, which is clearly a good sign.
“I appreciate you thinking of me, I do. I do. It's just—” He sighs. Looks like he's having another phone call. “I can't come back. Not right now.” Silence. “No, uh, won't happen for a while, I think. The place's fucked.” A shaky breath. “What? What did you say?
“The head chef asked about me?” Carmy's voice has gone tight. “I see. Of course he said that. No, it's fine.” Pause. “...I know what they've been saying. I figured they'd look down on me.” His laugh is hollow and painful. “Look, I got shit to do. Thanks for asking me, but it's a no. I can't.” Another pause, drawn out and tense. “Sure. Bye.”
After he hangs up, you hear him muttering to himself. You can't pick out any of the words other than the curses, but it sounds bad. As you put your things away, you silently pray to the abstract idea of a god to give you both strength of patience. Seems like you'll need it today.
“Morning,” you tentatively greet him when he sees you. He's not surprised by your presence today, it seems. He nods back.
“Morning.” His eyebags are dark with a lack of sleep. Upon closer inspection, his whole everything screams sleep deprivation, perhaps a bit more so than usual. His messy hair seems particularly unkempt today. “You're doing prep again today.”
“I figured.”
“You need to get better about cleaning your station.” His words are full to the brim with irritation. “I keep having to clean it after you.”
“I thought I was—” You stop. Calm down, you think, but it's getting harder and harder to repeat. “Sorry. I didn't realize.”
“I told you the other day that it was dirty. Were you even paying attention?”
“Of course I was!” Annoyance bubbles over inside of you, potent and unbridled. Carmy barely reacts to your raised voice. Somehow, that pisses you off more. The cap on your contained anger has popped off, and there's no fitting it back on. “Are you always like this towards your employees?”
“Like what?”
“Like an asshole?” You're too irritated to hold yourself back.
“Depends. Are you always like this with your boss?” He retorts immediately.
“I don't usually have sex with my boss, so no, I suppose not,” you respond stupidly, and that makes him go dead silent. He narrows his eyes, fixes you with his gaze. Like you're a new problem that needs solving or something like that.
God damnit, you think to yourself. Why'd you have to say that?
“You've been thinking about it.” The air feels thicker, suddenly.
“I never said that.”
“Then why did you mention it?” Shit. “You said you were going to do better.”
“And I have been. I've been trying to do everything you've been telling me to do.” You don't know why you take a step towards him. “You said you were gonna be nicer.”
“And I have been,” he echoes, and his sincerity makes you roll your eyes.
“Bullshit! You've been nit-picking me all week!”
“We have standards here, and you need to learn how to follow them. That's all.”
“You're right! I'm learning,” you argue, throwing exasperated hands up in the air. “Cut me some fucking slack!”
“Then learn. Improve.” He slams a hand down on the aluminum surface next to you, enclosing you partially in. Being this close to him, you can really see how dark his dark circles are. You could easily move to the side if you wanted to, but something in you stays put. “There's no excuse for a dirty workspace in a kitchen. I thought you would know that already.”
“I'm so fucking sorry, chef,” you spit back with about as much venom as you can muster. Which, right now, is a lot.
That shifts something inside him. You see it flash across his face—surprise, anger, and then…something else.
“Dirty work station and a dirty mouth,” he murmurs. His voice is lower, quieter, and it sounds just like how it did in the walk-in. You hate how that change instantly makes your heart pick up speed. “You think you get a pass to act like this because of what happened in the walk-in?”
“You motherfucker,” you hiss, meeting his glare with your own. “So now you're going to acknowledge it? And for the record, I get to act however the fuck I want. Especially with someone like you.”
“Someone like me.” He doesn't ask you to elaborate. He just laughs, breathy and condescending, and he's so close you can feel his breath fan across your face. “You think you're above all this, don't you?”
“What?” The question takes you so off guard that it almost dissipates the strange mix of anger and arousal simmering in your gut.
“I know it doesn't feel good to have to take orders from someone you hate, but here's the thing. You have to.” He's not smiling, but you swear he's getting some sort of sick satisfaction from all this. Why else would he be saying any of this shit?
“I could leave right now if I wanted to,” you threaten him. “You won't be able to find anyone else that wants to work in this shithole of a place.”
“You're right. You could leave if you really wanted to.” His eyes narrow curiously at you. “Then why haven't you?”
You’re well within your right to leave already—it checks all the boxes. Chaotic work environment. Awful management. General workplace misconduct. Unprofessionalism between coworkers. You suppose you're partially to blame for that last one, but still.
If it's bad, I'll just find another job, you told yourself. You're not sure why you're not listening to your own advice. The simple truth of the matter, though, is that other jobs won't have him. They won't have the man that's been keeping you up at night, the man that you want to simultaneously devour and destroy. They won't have Carmen Berzatto, and for some reason, that's all it's going to take.
You don't understand yourself. It scares you, but not enough. Not enough to leave.
“...I don't know why I haven't left yet,” you say quietly after a while. “I have no clue.”
“I see.” If he's dissatisfied with your answer, he doesn't show it. “Then for the time you're here, let's make one thing clear.”
“What is it now?” You sigh.
“I'm in charge here,” he whispers. His other hand is on the counter now. You're completely blocked in. “I'm the one who runs this place, so you're going to be good and listen to me when I speak.”
“You're not really giving me a lot of incentive, chef.” You lower your gaze to the counters next to you. “Maybe if you gave me something to work with.” You don't mean for it to come out as suggestive as it does, but with him surrounding you like this…
“Incentive?” He brings a hand to your face, tucking his fingers under your chin to pull your gaze back to him. His touch is achingly gentle, but it forces it to look straight into his eyes. Your fidgety gaze catches glances of the dark blue speckles that border his pale iris. “Hey,” he whispers, “look at me.”
You squeeze your eyes shut. Your heart's pounding like sprinting feet thudding on concrete. You can't place what feelings are excitement or anxiety or both, but maybe no separation exists. Shutting your eyes was a weak attempt to temporarily block him out, but now all you can focus on is the sensation of his rough hand on your hot face.
Hesitantly, you open your eyes to face him. Ice blue and dark circles. His intense stare is difficult to match, but you try.
“What do you want from me?” You ask quietly.
“I want you to clean your station. Think you can do that?”
“Don't patronize me. Of course I can. I just—happened to forget.”
“Hm.” He smiles briefly. It's just a bit mocking. “You don't have a good track record so far, so you'll have to prove it to me.”
“...And how would I do that?”
“Depends,” he replies vaguely. “Depends on what you want.”
“What I want? I thought you were supposed to be in charge.”
“When I touched you, you told me you wanted to touch me.” The realization clicks in your head. “Do you still want that?”
You hesitate. Memories of the walk-in flood in. You remember the silhouette of his tight jeans over his bulge, and you ache. You shouldn't say yes. You really shouldn't. A distant voice says, you don't want to do this. What have you been telling yourself? This is a bad idea.
Unfortunately, it's far past a matter of want anymore. It's a matter of need.
“Yes,” you whisper back. Your fate is sealed. “I do.”
That's how you find yourself in the cramped bathroom with him. It's dark with one of the lightbulbs having gone out, making it feel even smaller. An eerie green cast coats the room.
“You're going to show me that you can listen. That you can clean up after your messes.” He's leaned up against the wall, broad hands unbuttoning his pants. Your eyes shamelessly zero in on the motion. “Think you can do that much?”
“Of course I can,” you reply, but it comes out a lot softer than intended.
“Good.” You force your eyes away from the outline of his bulge in his boxers to look at his face. His darkened eyes are trained on you. “Get on your knees.”
Oh, you think. So this is how it's gonna go.
You wish you could say that you hesitate even a little bit, that there’s even a shred of contemplation left in you. However, there isn't any of that remaining. Obediently, you fall to your knees, resting them against the cold, hard bathroom floor. You're at eye level with his unbuttoned jeans. Slowly, you raise your eyes to look at him.
His downturned face is framed by wild strands of hair. Looking down at you casts darker shadows across his face, but not enough to hide his expression. It's an odd mix of hunger and what you think to be admiration. Surely not, but that's immediately the thought that comes to mind.
“Waiting for directions, chef,” you murmur.
“Mm. Right,” he says, like he was lost in thought. “You look better like this.”
“Watch it,” you warn him. “I could still bite your dick off.” To that, he just briefly smiles, and then it's gone.
He's pulled his black pants down just enough to let his clothed bulge hang over the waistband. The sight of it goes straight to the simmer starting in your gut. You watch his veined hand disappear into his boxers. He's doing this far too slowly for your taste.
Finally, he pulls out his cock, nearly completely stiffened, and you can't deny the way you begin to salivate.
You were right. It's big, though not just in length. His cock is thick. You immediately know you won't be able to take the full length of him into your mouth, but what fits is going to be a stretch. You're already imagining how those bulging veins are going to feel against the flat of your tongue.
“Use your mouth for something other than talking back to me. Make me come,” Carmy orders quietly. “Enough direction for you?”
“Shut the hell up,” you mutter, ignoring the feeling of the growing heat inside you, and you pull the reddened, shiny tip of his cock between your lips.
His pre-come mixes with the saliva on your tongue. You savor the taste of his salty musk, suckling slowly, and you hear him exhale shakily above you. Looks like you've been given something of an opportunity to get him back for the walk-in. Not repayment—payback. The distinction is important.
When you pull back, thin strings of spit connect the pink head to your glistening lips. One of your hands moves to hold the base of his cock as you close the gap again. You drag your tongue down the side of his length, licking the thick vein you were eyeing earlier. You feel him twitch.
“Do that again,” he breathes. Without question, your tongue retraces its path, running back over the line of spit it created. That gets you a quiet, strangled moan, and it's music to your ears.
“Is this part sensitive?” You ask as you stroke the vein with your thumb. You suck your way down the vein again, making small, wet seals of pleasure.
“Somewhat.” He sounds good like this, breathless and flustered. A smile twitches on your lips. You lick across the inside of your hand, wetting it before lazily curling it around his cock. He slides effortlessly in your grasp.
“You gonna come already?” You can't help but tease. He's surprisingly reactive, more so than you would've thought. It's not that you're complaining—it's not that at all. The sound of his low groans is making you drip.
“Hah—no. You'll have to work harder than that.” You feel a hand pushing back your hair, and that makes you raise your head towards him. His touch is surprisingly gentle. You watch the movement of his lips when he speaks. “Open your mouth, and stick out your tongue.”
You can't quite figure out what it is about all of this that makes you submit. Just moments ago, you wanted to wring your hands around his throat. It was far too easy to abandon your anger and kneel in front of him. Maybe it's the incomprehensibly part of you that undeniably needs his validation. Maybe it's the soft, low tone of his voice, gentle yet commanding. Either way, it has you obeying with a thought in your mind.
You do as he says. You part your lips and extend your tongue. As your eyes flutter upwards towards him, you're struck with the impression that you must look obscene.
“Perfect,” he whispers, and just the one word sends something of a euphoric rush through you. “Doin’ so good for me.”
You soak up the praise, basking in the warmth of it. Then, Carmy spits onto your tongue, and his saliva slides towards the back of your mouth.
You can't hide your surprise. Your breath hitches, but you don't say anything. Fuck, that should've made you angry, but it just made your clit throb painfully hard.
He drags his thumb down your tongue, slow and sensual. You have half the mind to suck on it until he glides the head of his cock on your tongue, leading it into the heat of your mouth.
“Ah—” You lose the words you were going to say, along with the empty space in your mouth. The tip of his cock's nearing the back of your throat. You breathe shakily through your nose. You were right again—you can't take him fully in. It's enough of a stretch as it is.
“Fuck, that's it…” Carmy sighs. “Just like that…”
His hand holding your hair turns into a tighter grip as you begin sucking up and down his cock. It's an awful mess, the size of him forcing spit to drip down your chin. It's not just that, though. He's thrusting his cock back into your mouth quicker and quicker. You wish he would slow down so you could lean back and suck on his dribbling tip, but his hand has you anchored.
Time slows as he starts fucking your mouth. Your hands fall to your hands. Your knees are starting to hurt. You care surprisingly little about that fact, instead opting to care about rubbing your clit as quickly as possible. When you get your hands under your underwear, you find your whole pussy already smeared in wetness. You've seeped through the fabric.
When he pulls his cock out of your mouth (or rather, when he tugs you off), you think he's going to give you a new order. Or that he's going to say something. You don't realize what's really happening until it's too late.
You watch him bring a hand to his cock. He strokes it twice, keeping his hand tight in your hair, and with a low groan, he comes.
With his hand on you, you can't move away. Not that you try. When the first glob of cum streaks your cheek, you freeze. All you can do is pause as he comes on your face. Even your hand under your pants has frozen, your palm pressed up tight against your pulsing clit.
With each rope of cum across your face, you feel yourself throb. Carmy is a sight to behold as he comes, long-lashed eyes falling shut with his parted, gasping mouth. He's jaggedly fisting his cock as he just keeps coming. You feel the cum starting to drip down the slopes of your skin, even your lips.
By the time he's come down, he's left your face an absolute mess. Your jaw feels heavy, and his cum is hot against your swollen lips. You've come down as well, and it's left you with the irate realization that he just came all over your face without asking.
“You could've at least told me you were gonna come on my face,” you snap. Your cheeks are burning. Your argument feels weak with how worked up you feel over watching and feeling him come, but the irritation is still very real.
“Clean your station, chef,” he responds, infuriatingly smug even as he catches your breath. “Practice makes perfect.”
“Are you kidding me?” Of course. That's what this all was. A fucked up lesson, a twisted sort of discipline.
“I'm not.” He uncurls his fist from your hair. “Stand up—your knees must hurt.”
You pause for a second before you shakily get back up on your legs. One minute he's messily fucking your mouth, and the other, he's worrying over your sore knees. He continues to become more and more confusing.
“You're gonna make me clean up your mess.” You catch your face in the small, shitty rectangular mirror hanging on the wall. God, are you a filthy sight, cum and spit all over your face.
“I had to clean up yours for the past week, so yeah.” He's zipped himself back up. He's clean, not a drop of anything on him. Unlike the mess parading itself on your face. At least there's not any in your hair.
“This is not the same. This is—” You frustratedly search for the right words. He's remaining as stoic as ever. “You didn't even kiss me,” you blurt out, and as soon as you say it, you regret it.
Carmy stills. You can't tell what he's thinking with his unmoving expression. You're sure he's about to insult you again, but then he’s leaning in and sealing his lips against yours.
You're stunned. A small noise escapes you as he kisses you deeply, thoroughly. His tongue drags up a trail of cum and spit up your chin and back into your mouth. Or back into his. You're unsure, with the way they're all blending together.
“There,” Carmy murmurs against your lips. When he pulls back, you see his tongue running across his lips, collecting the pearlescent sheen that was on them.
“Um—” You start and immediately stop. You’re speechless.
“Now clean up.” You hear the sound of distant company. Your other coworkers must be arriving now. “I expect improvement now, chef. Is that clear?”
“Crystal,” you reply bitterly. “I suppose I met your expectations, then?”
“Sure. Closely enough, anyway.” Potent aggravation hits you like a cast iron pan. He drags his thumb in one last infuriating line across your cheek. He sucks it into his mouth and cleans it off. “Don't take too long. I have a lot planned for you today.”
Without waiting for a response, Carmy leaves. He leaves you alone in the shitty bathroom with a now flickering lightbulb, left to clean his cum on your face with water, hand soap, and thin paper towels. You don't know if you've ever been so angry before.
The anger doesn't make the arousal go away. You rub your needy clit to orgasm, your back pressed up against the wall like Carmy's just a moment ago.
As you come with Carmy's cum slowly trailing on your face, you wonder if there is any coming back from this. If there's anything left to be done to stop whatever's happening. You can't come up with any solutions or suggestions. Only one thing is undeniably clear:
You hate Carmen Berzatto, and you're already thinking of ways to get his cock in your mouth again soon.
~
taglist: @zorrasucia @carmenberzattosgf @thehouseofevangelista @alastorssimp @talas-starlight @jmamas92
#carmy berzatto#the bear#carmen berzatto#carmy berzatto x reader#carmen berzatto x reader#jeremy allen white#carmy berzatto x you#carmy berzatto smut#carmen berzatto smut#carmy berzatto imagines#carmen berzatto imagines#my fics#blood orange#ARGHHH ITS HEREEE. i won't lie this chapter was so hard to write#im still having a hard time figuring out what this particular carmy acts like. its difficult. im getting there tho
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If you're seeing this now, I'm not online and, this is queued. I wrote this on Thursday before my journey, so yeah.
My initial "fuck you" post was quite mean spirited. As much as you people might not believe me, I hated the way it ended up sounding.
There are a lot of things that are far more important than me whining about my own problems going on, really. I could use this as a rant to talk about how people only care about serious issues now and are making rallying posts now, when I was trying to talk about it in January, especially "big" blogs, but honestly, I do not care anymore. It hurt initially that I was ignored and seen as a nusiance, but I'm over it. As long as the people who need these funds gets it and get out safely from Gaza, then I'm happy creators for palestine is taking root on tumblr as well. I wish I could join, but honestly, I'll just use my tiktok and youtube to try and help and generate money in any way I can. This is not me trying to "look" like a good person. I am not. The ongoing genocide is far bigger than anyone, and as long as people are protesting and generating money for the people, I'm happy. Please go ahead and help these creators to get to a goal and help a family in palestine. Also reblog gofund me's for Congo and Sudan and donate to them if you can, please. I'll also see if I can rally people at school to donate too or at least talk about it, but with how Nigeria is so pro-isn'treal, hope is bleak.
Now, to address my reasons for going. I'm seeing some anonymous asks as I've arrived on my blog to make this post asking me "Why are you leaving?"
Well, it's simple really. I could just say severe racism and go my way but it's more than that.
I would like to start with myself really as the main problem:
Ever since I was young, I wanted to do the right thing. But in the end, the right thing isn't always necessarily the right way to go. This account was made when I was going through the most stressful and painful time of my life. I hated medical school. I was recovering from the trauma of being sexually abused and consequently reminded that I would never get justice. My old tumblr wasn't going anywhere either and I wanted a fresh start, at least something working. If I say this account helped me through hard times, I'd be lying. It made me forget about my problems and then I return to reality and nothing has changed. I've frankly gotten myself into so many spats and spoken to many people with vitrol in the name of doing the right thing without checking myself. I've broken friendships and hurt people with my words and my actions, without being level headed and asking questions first. I've done so much hurt, I don't think the good I intended to do would outweigh it.
Even with people who have done something wrong or wronged me, I overreacted. It was not right of me and I don't want anyone who follows me to think it was or is right. I've made up excuses for myself over and over again when I respond with a vile comment or even with a threat and it is time for me to stop that consciously. The people who said I was immature or too sensitive were right. As an adult, I'm am supposed to be well adjusted to my emotions. I'm no longer 18. I am 20. I will be treating people who will say worse things and I must do the work to adjust.
To anyone I've hurt, justified or unjustified, I humbly apologize. It was wrong of me to react that way. You do not have to forgive me, truly, or accept my apology. I would like to just apologize. My actions were and are inexcusable.
Secondly, the Saetoru/Tee situation:
If you were or you weren't here, it doesn't really matter. Tee did something horrible to me and my mutual and I can't forgive them. I've longed for an apology and for her to change her ways, but honestly, you can take a horse to the river but you can't force them to drink from it. This is me closing the chapter on that. Honestly, the best thing for anyone to do when it comes to her is just block her and anyone associated with her. Giving her attention does nothing but feeds her ego and reacting to her probably tickles her fancy. Sometimes, the best solution for people is just going no contact with them.
To anyone I hurt in the crossfires or put under stress, I'm sorry. I should not have done it and I should have faced Tee head on, alone and not involved any of you. To the person who sent the post to papersirens, I have forgiven you. You may have caused me pain, but being angry at you forever is not the way to go.
Thirdly, Monsters:
I've done a lot of blaming towards the readers for being rude, but at the end of the day, it doesn't matter. That fic has caused a lot of pain and anguish and gathered a very toxic audience that frankly scares me. I grew up in the fanfic community with the knowledge that positive interactions helps with boosting the writers morale, but honestly, I am yet to see how being racist to me or rude to me would boost my morale. Being mean to me over my own story does the opposite- it discourages me. As a result, the last comment as at tuesday was my last straw. I will never write that fic again. Not even when I have time. That project has been muddied with racism and vileness I can't even look at the folders without bursting into tears. It's better for all of us to break up from that toxic relationship. Like some of you said, there are better fics, so please read those instead.
Lastly: Will I ever return to tumblr?
Yes. But never on this account. It might not even be this year even. Or it might be. Who knows? You won't even know it's me anyways unless you have my discord. I'd like a fresh start and a rebrand and frankly to distance myself from the vile person I am now.
Final thoughts:
My advice to you all is to protect black writers. Many of us are leaving the platform due to antiblackness and hostility. Frankly, this app would be nothing without the countless black artists whom many of you get your ideas from. They are the pinnacles of this app and without them there is not fandom. Take care of them. Please.
-Monica.
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I need to stop thinking about him I need to stop thinking about him I need to stop thinking about him
#and I can't just get high when I don't wanna deal with problems bc that's not ok#it's so weird to go from being rlly good friends to casual hookups to nothing at all#I don't even know how to move on bc we were never together and I don't even have romantic feelings for him anymore#I just really miss him#not just the physical stuff but I miss being friends and laughing together#and I know I have a right to be mad at him to some extent but I also feel like if I was less emotional then everything would be fine#he's probably just one of those guys that loses interest after sex but why am I still bothered even tho it's been months#I really cared about him and it hurts to be so distant#I feel like i've fucked everything up bc I got mad at him when really I was mad at myself and my insecurities and also him for ghosting me#but I shouldn't have gotten mad bc we were on good terms and now everything is weird again#and I need to get better and regulating my emotions so I don't do impulsive shit#everything is just rlly weighing on me#it's so strange that we didn't talk for over a month then I got high and texted him and now everything is so much more messy#I want to be completely over him but a part of me still holds on and imagines what could have been#if he had been in love with me or if I hadn't been so overbearing
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(shaking with rage) yeah no I will come visit you during my work hours because you forgot about hanging out with me in the evening and scheduled time with your partner then. No this is great. No I actually love being presented with the choice of Work During Your Evening OR Be Alone All Day Yet Again
#genuinely and not to be petty but should I just Not seek to befriend people in relationships anymore??#this relationship is less than 2 weeks old and already it's impossible to schedule anything unless I and ONLY I bend over backwards for it#if I didn't work a flexible job I'd just be fucked#if I say no then I'm only punishing myself because I'm just Alone Yet Again Not Talking To Anyone#and they won't really care or notice#this sucks and I'm annoyed and I can't do anything about it unless I build a wider social network#which I cannot do because everyone is like THIS#at least some people are upfront about not having time#I know I'm being irrational. I know. I'm just. upset and annoyed#bien rambles
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explorers of the spirit getting popular is kind of annoying me because there's just gonna be tons of people who never got over their petty childhood hatred of chatot feeling validated over blaming him for the guild rules when he's not the one who came up with those rules in the first place
#bwark#i haven't played it myself so i can't judge but from what i've heard apprently the game itself just comes across like the creator never#got over their petty hatred#like girl......you do know that he's the sole reason the guild isn't in shambles#those rules are in place because the exploration federation was the ones who did that#also chatot literally says if you talk to him before going to amp plains that the guild is barely getting by as it is#this info is all directly in the game and the pmd fandom is filled with people that ignore this in order to feel justified in their dislike#of him#and i'm not saying you can't dislike him. i literally don't care what you do#but don't ignore canon and make shit up to fuel your own narrative#also why does everybody blame chatot but not fucking wigglytuff#like. i get that chatot is the one keeping things in line but wigglytuff should share just as much blame if you really want to point#fingers so badly#btw since i'm on the topic i've changed my opinion on the perfect apple incident. i'm not being an apologist for him anymore#it was fucked up#but holding that incident over his head when he instantly believes you after coming back from the future and nearly kills himself trying#to protect you in brine cave is dumb as hell#anyway making this unrebloggable because i don't want more chatot discourse after last time
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I need to stop engaging in things that make me compare the attention I get with others. unfortunately if I want to exist on the internet at all I have basically no choice. sorry about that 😔😔
#Vents 🌧️#I think I may die (exaggeration. probably)#just. bad bad bad all around#unfortunately jealousy is rooted deeply into my heart. I love everyone so so much and I wish I got that love back#I feel like it's filling up my chest. its surrounding my lungs and tightening my body#I can't fucking do this anymore. I can't do this#every time I finally think I have enough of anything it's never enough because everyone around me gets more#it hurts. I can't fucking do this. but I don't know where else to turn to#am I supposed to take a break from the thing that was supposed to comfort me? the outside world isn't any better#perhaps I'm condemned to a life where I can do nothing but simply get over myself..#sorry. I didn't mean to. say all of this#I'll probably delete this later but I need this out of me now
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I think I've fucked up
#i ranted to my girlfriend and i know she probably is just busy but my brain is screaming that i made her upset even though..#my rant was about my own situation and how i feel about it and then i apologized for complaining at her and said that i wasn't supposed to#and I'm worried she thinks she's not supposed to complain to me when i just meant that i don't like telling people about my shit#and i know she said i could tell her and that she wants to support me but she and my boyfriend are my first relationships#and i don't want to fuck up and i think i have and i haven't told my boyfriend about my diagnosis yet#and I'm scared I'll complain at him too when i tell him and i don't care that he's told me i can and should complain to him#i don't want to saddle them with my complaints#and i called out of work because of how I'm feeling from my diagnosis and that's what i ranted to my girlfriend about#and i'm terrified she doesn't want to date me anymore because my reaction to being diagnosed with one more thing is so fucking pathetic#and i just need to cry and scream and throw up and i can't do any of those things and i feel like everyone except her is telling me#it's no big deal when it is a big deal and i don't think i got it through to my therapist and I'm just freaked out and i don't want to cling#and and and I'm just. i hate existing right now#i feel like i shouldn't do what i want to at home because i called out from work and i know that's stupid but i don't feel like i deserve#nice things right now despite needing them and I'm just so tired but not sleepy and i feel like I'm going to have a panic attack and#i can't even do anything about it!#fuck#i fucked myself over basically#anyway#drink water you heathens
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You know reading vol 5 of mdzs before all the rest (don't ask me why I'm a clown and there were Circumstances) has to be the craziest experience of my life. Because it took all of ten minutes of wwx talking to literally hit me so hard in the gut I had to sit down and listen to really loud music for a while to calm down.
Who needs therapy when mxtx is alive and writing, I guess????? 🤡
Can't wait to get to the actual tragic parts I just know I'm gonna be that "help" frog phone meme
#mdzs#i was really out here thinking svsss would be my fave bc of lbh#and then i finally get around to reading mdzs and it blows my expectations out of the fucking water holy actual shit#and i just had this feeling the first time i read parts of it like 'oh. this series is going to kill me. im not coming back from this.'#and here i am booboo the fool getting my clown ass make-up on#idk how to explain it like i just fucking LOVE mxtx's takes on arrogance#that wwx is constantly being perceived as a show off and an incorrigible flirt and a know it all#how wwx cant always help the ways he acts out the desperation that has embedded itself into his very bones#how wwx only ever wanted to do the right thing and that having been so much of his downfall#how his worth and talent would always be eclipsed by virtue of his circumstances#how he's above needing recognition at his core but at the same time longs for an ounce of good will and positive recognition ->#how human he is despite his brilliance. how he never gets it no matter how hard he tries to be worthy.#like to me wwx is emblematic of what it means to be poor/an immigrant in high places#always villified always alien always wrong always unwelcome#no matter how clever or capable or kind youll always be an eyesore because you don't 'act right'. not 'one of them.' you never will be.#i just...the way he just wanted it all to be over by the end. the way he didnt even want to come back to life. that he was sick of it all.#im rattling the bars of my cage i love him I LOVE HIM i love him#i understand you lan wangji (and i love lwj too)#and even lan wangji too like. the way so many of their issues in the beginning stems from that self-same problem#how lwj couldn't live with his out of control feelings how he too couldn't quite lay down his pride#how lwj was also trapped by the expectations of his clan in his own way how so much of their separation was a form of penance#that the calamity of wwx's loss forced him to reconsider everything he thought he knew about himself and his life#how he was left with nothing but regret. how when wwx returns--lwj refuses to leave anything to chance this time#he refuses to let wwx be alone anymore--refuses to let him hurt himself for the sake of others refuses to just let it all happen#even if it means overstepping a boundary or propriety it doesn't matter--as long as wwx stays with him. pride be damned#god i just can't i just can't do it im biting im ripping things apart GOD#will also say the jokes about lwj being like. 'strict moral compass or BUST.' and then wwx literally committing like 17 felonies in the bg#while lwj is like 'crimes? what crimes. nothing to see here.' NEVER stops being funny. like i was pissing myself laughing#i know its a known trope but by god are they hilarious about it#also. lan qiren how many times do your nephews have to go catatonic for you to stop with the catholic guilt and repression
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For once I would like to work at a place where me calling off doesn't result in a guilt trip. Sorry I'm the only responsible employee there but I was literally hyperventilating at the idea of letting my manager down bc I woke up and instantly started bawling about everything and could not face work. And my stomach has been murdering me from all the anxiety I've been dealing with so I literally can barely function anyway.
#like it is not my fault our newest employee can't remember anything. i trained her for over a month honestly. she still can't remember where#half the buttons on the screen are or what they do. I'm half convinced she has dementia bc she's asked me multiple times what year it is#when she was doing her paperwork. like even at my first job i was left alone more than my boss will let this woman. she refuses to let her#close alone. and like i know it'll go bad. but it is not my responsibility to babysit a 65 year old. i trained her and i know i trained her#well bc the other 2 people i trained did not have this amount of issues. i am not an assistant. your shitty company will not give me that#position even though i asked. i am the same rank as everyone else working there and i cannot have anymore stress right now or i will fucking#quit. the other girl that works here just got her wisdom teeth out and she'll be down for the count. not like she was much use anyways. but#i do not understand why my manager is making it all my problem when i taught our new employee everything. i was working by myself here for#entire shifts by the time i was here a month. the store might burn down if she does but Jesus Christ not everything is my responsibility#when my manager isn't there. I'm not the fucking assistant. I'm a fucking cashier. like I'm about to stop doing all the things i was doing#to try to get them to promote me to assistant. cause it obviously didn't fucking work. not gonna go around and make a list of everything#expiring this month. not gonna obsessively organize and stock the cooler. I'm tired of being the only one that does it and does it right#anyway. it's so fucking exhausting. like last week i was so anxious and upset i was throwing up. i couldn't have gone to work if i tried.#now I'm just over being the useful one bc it never got me fucking anywhere.
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in the midst of a little depressive episode at the moment I fear and it's causing me to Ponder... in a weird way I'm almost grateful. like this is UNBELIEVABLY better than it used to be, even as much as it sucks in the moment. I wish I could go back to find myself at twelve years old hiding out in the school toilets and tell them that as long as we stick it out for long enough then one day the outsize bad emotions will be triggered by actual definable events and they'll be a noticeable change from our baseline. I'm not ✨recovered✨ and I don't know if I ever will be - I think I might have spent too many developmental years creating terrible patterns and associations to be able to straighten it all out - but it's Better and I'm able to know that it can continue to get better, too. and that's fucking huge.
#fay gets uncomfortably personal on her video game blog. NOT SORRY.#idk it's just crazy to think about#I really struggle to tap into this space enough to remember when I'm not actively in it#but I was SO FUCKING SICK back then. I was a child. and I was so fucking ill. I didn't know how young I was and I didn't realise how#disturbing it would feel down the line#(obviously. you don't lie down on the road in the middle of the night thinking 'I can't wait to suddenly remember this moment#in several years so it can become a sticking point in my psyche')#but like. that's my brother's age that's my sister's age I work with kids that age and it's so fucking young! and I'm so young now!#and I bet in five years I'll be going 'what a small little child... crazy' all over again#but like. idk. I was SO ILL. and I don't think it's like people say they thought they'd be dead by a certain age#it was a possibility for me but not an inevitability#but I don't think that I could have foreseen being better#in such a material way. you know. like I can't imagine myself ever fully healthy#or as close as anyone can get. I've had all this shit for so long. the idea of not carrying it anymore is honestly unappealing#like what would I even do without it. who would I be. how could that possibly happen#but this shit is BELIEVABLE. it's not gone it's just better and when it crops up I can deal#and I wish I could take the me of back then by the shoulders and say THIS IS NOT FOREVER!!!!!!!#ride it out long enough and you'll learn to live with it!!!!!!!!#it's just. really fucking huge. and I am so grateful#peace and love on planet earth!!!!
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#ignore me i need to vent and be scared for a moment...#but i've been working my ass off today for a project that's paying me cents#and i've been debating the whole day how to explain to this client that moving forward i will have to charge more money for similar project#and i'm so so scared that it will mean losing this client cause i don't really have many regular clients and regular work#so it's scary to sound greedy (even tho i know it's not greedy) and i've been trying to convince myself it's the right thing to do#i've talked to my mom and she agrees which is huge cause she's always saying i need to be thankful for having work even if it's a lil cheap#but like now she even agrees that over 12hs work days including weekends are NOT being paid with my prices#so i'm so anxious about that and then i go on twitter and i see one movie poster and one chocolate bar wrapper made with ai#and i'm SO SCARED of the future#i went and chose the one career most easily replaced by ai#and i'm so anxious about what my future holds#but also my very near future when i have to tell this people that i can't work for nothing anymore#i hate money and i hate what it does to my head#money not only reaches the mind of those who have lots of it#it also reaches the mind of those who don't have it ://#i fucking hate this and i hate being an adult with a job#specially a freelance job where i am my own fucking boss and i set my own prices#cause i'm so fucking dumb and so easily taken advantage of#i shouldn't be saying this online lol but like i said... i'm dumb#angel talks#personal
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#will probably delete this later but I needed to get it out somewhere#like I am so goddamn lonely. and it is making me feel LITERALLY as if I'm about to descend into genuine madness#but the PROBLEM is that. in order to not be lonely. you need to find other people. and you need to have reason to believe that those#people will keep wanting and making an effort to communicate with you#and the thing is THE THING. IS. that you cannot control what people do or feel. I have no say in what people think of me.#I have to rely on other people to build new relationships. and that is just not. something that I can do.#it's not something that makes SENSE for me to do anymore. so I try to figure out how to just not want human connection at all#you know maybe if I intentionally isolate myself or grow my cynicism on a regular basis I'll get desensitized to the point#where that's just genuinely not something I want anymore. so then I'm not lonely but I also didn't have to rely on anyone else being#trustworthy and accepting and willing to care about me to get to that point#but. I mean maybe some people can do the denial thing but I can't. I've been trying for years. and that carved-out-hole in my chest#hasn't gotten any better. it hasn't filled up or healed over or gone away. it's just gotten bigger.#but if you're genuinely convinced that you're just built in a way where no one is ever going to really love you...what the fuck do you do?#if connecting with other people is something I want but it's (in my probably-biased estimation) completely inaccessible because I am#an inherently shameful and unpleasant person just by virtue of existing...then I'm just stuck at an impasse. and I'll always be crying#over something I can't logically ever have. why bother pursuing it if I am just going to be rejected or hurt or disparaged or tossed out or#neglected or sidelined or any number of bad outcomes? if that's how pursuing any kind of new interpersonal relationships is going to end#then why bother? the only thing to do would be to learn how to be completely unreliant on other people in any way forever right?#but THAT'S not logistically feasible EITHER and I've already proven that I can't fucking do that so what's left? just always be miserable?#I DON'T WANT TO RESIGN MYSELF TO THAT!!!!#sorry. it's. getting to be late december & around the new year is when it always gets Bad™ so we're just. gonna be like this for a few week#In the Vents#ugh all of this would be better if I still lived near Best Friend™#anyone who gets to live near/with their Person™ PLEASE know how lucky you are and don't take that for granted
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brrrrr (/pos)
#weight talk#<- just in case even though this is pos#but like. okay ive been. SEVERELY underweight all my life#like i looked like a skeleton you could see all my bones it was AWFUL#i just. I've literally always hated looking like that i hated looking like a walking corpse i mean i looked ILL#but recently i started taking remeron for anxiety#partially bc my anxiety keeps causing me to not eat properly bc i feel sick constantly#so i kept ending up in the ER for malnutrition and dehydration and my liver getting messed up#well i started the remeron for the panic attacks bc daily panic attacks suck but the psych mentioned it could increase appetite#and it???? did????? I'm eating on a slightly more regular schedule???? I'm eating more than once a day????#and like. ok I've always weighed like 100lbs#highest i ever got was 111 when i was 16#and then it dropped 10#and then dropped 10 more in the span of 3 months while i was in and out of ER#and i was genuinely starting to panic over it bc i could PHYSICALLY FEEL my muscles getting eaten bc i had no fat left#like i was getting drastically weaker by the day my knees still won't stop buckling#but in the about three months I've been taking those meds I've. gained 10 back#I'm actually gaining weight like me and my mother are genuinely SHOCKED this genuinely hasn't happened since i was fucking TWELVE#and just now i took off my shirt and noticed. holy shit. my stomach doesn't go CONCAVE when I'm hungry anymore#like whenever i couldn't tell if i was hungry before i would just look at my stomach and be able to tell if it was too curved inwards#but now!!!!!!! it doesn't do that!!!!!!! and I'm genuinely fucking ecstatic like oh my god i don't look dead anymore#I've always wanted to gain weight i feel like i would be 100% more comfortable in my body as a fat trans man#and i can't talk about that to anyone bc they always say it's either self harm or fetishistic#when no i just genuinely feel more comfortable in my skin thinking of myself that way#and now i have confirmation that i would genuinely be happier that way with this bc the sheer joy i have at not being underweight anymore#i mean I'm still a bit under but at least im gaining SOMETHING like at least i dont look like a drowned street cat#seeing the very slight rolls and folds in my stomach when i move the right way makes me happy
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