keep her fed keep her happy

For niggas ready to find love.

Step 1: Find a girl you’re interested in.

Step 2: Offer to take her out.

Now we do have some prideful women. She may want to pay for herself. That’s fine, just show her a good time.

In the event of a curve, embrace it and try again with more credentials or another time or another approach if you’re still interested.

*Limit 3x a year*

Step 3: After the date, if you’re actually interested in her like that let her know and if you’re not then try another date or just stop there and settle for either friendship or if she’s with it fuck buddies.

If you’re actually interested in her, be mindful of having sex early. Believe it or not waiting does matter. Men tend to degrade a woman in their mind if she’s willing to have sex on the first night and that’s a fact. Whether you show it or not. It’s better to wait. Protect her from your tendencies even if she’s willing.

Step 4: Fuck Her Right In The Pussy.

Real shit, make sure you satisfy her in every way that you can that simultaneously keeps you happy and satisfied. For the most part she may do her part. A woman tends to reward a good man. You must keep her satisfied in all aspects.

Physically satisfied: Keep her fed.

Mentally satisfied: Share perspectives on life with her. Teach her things. Share your information and experiences with her.

Emotionally satisfied: Show her that a lifetime of conforming to the gender roles of a man that teach that emotions are weakness won’t stop you from showing her who you really are in the inside. Bring her comfort knowing that she’s not the only one that’s emotionally invested in this.

Spiritually satisfied: Be God fearing. Humble yet strong. Connect with her soul and make sure she knows exactly who you are and what you’re about.

Sexually satisfied: You gotta become the only being on this planet that can bring her to the highest level of ecstasy. Play her body like your very own instrument. She’s your Queen, your Goddess, remember that satisfying her in this aspect is one of the most rewarding of them all.

Step 5: Put a ring on it.

Nah if you wanna get married and she does then full support. Realize that the wedding plans are most likely out of your hands and she may already have it down to a science but besides that only get married if you want to.

Marriage doesn’t solidify anything. Remember that. But if you’re going to get married, divorce should never be an option.

Step X: If things don’t happen to work out try not to be bitter. You may not be the right one for her but you will be for someone else. Stay strong homie. Learn from everything from your point of view to hers. Regardless of what she does that no longer matters since it’s just you now. Don’t shame her and the things she did while she was with you. Just find closure, close the book, and open a new one.

Any questions?

A very well fed and happy Sarah Vixen (by Samael)

An adorable commission done by the amazingly talented @samael

It is very important to keep Sarah well fed and happy. She’s a sweetheart, but when her tummy gets a rumblin’ there isnt much you can do other than feed her. Just hope you have plenty of food around to keep her happy, or you might end up like the wiggling bulges she’s sporting right now. Who’s in there? Some cute bunnies? Chris? You? Who knows! They’ll just be Sarah pudge in a good few hours. Might as well get some cuddles in while she’s sated. Just be careful, she’s known to get dessert sometimes~

—————————-

I loooove seeing Sarah drawn in Samael’s style, she looks so cute in it! Been a good while sense I’ve gotten anything with her, happy to see her still up to her silly vorish antics ^_^

Home is where your cat is

Rating: General Audiences

Fandom: Teen Wolf

Pairing: Peter Hale/Stiles Stilinski

Tags: fluff, cuddling, cats judging you, pre-slash

Summary:

“That’s a cat.”

“An adorable big, fluffy, cat!”

“It’s fat.”

Stiles gasps and smoothes down the cat’s big fluffy ears with his free hand. “Don’t say that! You will hurt her feelings! Don’t listen to the mean wolf,” he coos at the cat in his arms and plasters it ’s head with exaggerated smooching kisses.

The cat looks about as done with him as Peter feels.

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(Happy early Mother’s Day, B&tB fandom - have some headcanons - )

Belle’s mother:
- her name was Heloise
- from her earliest days she was a beautiful child, but goodness was she willful
- “willful” was indeed how she was often described, the most complimentary way to put it
- she learned how to dance and walk and speak with poise and ride a horse and comport herself with a proper woman’s grace, never once did she look down upon the act of being a lady
- but she scoffed at the idea she had to confine herself to it
- her family was well-to-do, not of noble blood but truly respected in society; she was presented at court once or twice in her youth though of course she was nowhere near important enough to interact with the royalty
- the older she got the less restricted she became: outspoken, seeking out every literary salon, never bothering with a hat when she was in a hurry, riding too fast down the street and sometimes not even sidesaddle
- the other girls teased and giggled and whispered
- she heard them and never cared
- she was like a pirate queen in a romantic novel, the kind of woman easily pictured wearing men’s trousers and brandishing a pistol to defend herself
- eventually came the day when boys became young men and the willful beauty with the flashing eyes who dominated every literary debate in Paris was all that they could think about
- then suddenly those giggling whispering girls did their best to be more like her
- but it’s hard to imitate such a genuine article
- her family knew well what type of young woman she had become, so when she fell in love with an artist they merely threw up their hands in resignation
- her life with Maurice was very different from her wealthy childhood and youth
- but she never missed what she didn’t have, never complained and never cared
- despite the pain and fear and sorrow at her passing she felt no regret for the life she had chosen, no regret at the end, for she died in love and having known the happiness of loving
- no regret, that is, save one: that she would never see her baby grow up to become a young woman

Adam’s mother:
- her name was…rather long, quite the mouthful as she was a noblewoman
- but you may call her Apolline, good sir or madam, and it please you
- she was always a quiet girl, a quiet woman, dutiful but intelligent
- she did flawless embroidery and read books of poetry and paid careful attention to her servants and carried herself overall with a queen’s grace
- when she did speak her voice was always calm and firm, when she spoke she always had something important to say
- and men and women without fail listened
- her husband was a not a good man, but then she had never expected to marry one; her heart had always been resigned and practical
- she left him to do what he would, she respected him for the fact that he kept out of her way, that they as good as had separate households within the castle
- once she bore him their son she asked that he come to her bed no more, and to her inner relief he listened
- she did not meddle in how he dealt with his subjects, it was not her place and she knew it would do no good to speak out or try 
- but silently where she could she tried to offset his behaviors by distributing alms and charity
- she was a good Christian woman as became a noble wife, said her prayers every night and visited her confessor regularly, though she did not know in all honesty if she believed in a God that was always looking out for his children
- the closest she ever became to being fierce when was it came to her son
- she kept him near and oversaw most of his education herself, and when her husband tried to take the boy away, the only time in their marriage she resisted
- and he who scoffed at so much she otherwise said and cared about, saw something in her eyes that made him back away silently
- her illness was a long and wasting one, she knew her end was coming well before it arrived
- her greatest fear was not where she was going but what she left behind
- she worried what might happen to her son, and she prayed that someone would come along after her to love and to protect him

LeFou’s mother:
- her name was Felicite
- alas she was well named, she was from the start a doe-eyed girl, a dreamer
- not the kind of dreamer that leads to curiosity and adventure, the kind that sits all day looking at clouds and gathering flowers and humming little songs while the cows go un-milked and the eggs un-gathered
- she was always happy but it was an empty type of happiness, telling stories to escape, so cheered by those stories she was mindless to the possibility of anything better
- her parents and her elder sister tried to toughen her up, tried to protect her, but she remained naive
- the young man who came to town wasn’t all that handsome and had no money, but he was charming and a good singer and it was too easy to be-spell a bright-eyed farmer’s daughter who still wore her hair in braids
- she was lucky enough to have family to intervene, they made him at least marry her first
- after the wedding night he was gone, left town and traveled far away
- she thought not of it, he’d told her he was a merchant
- for five years she repeated that story with a happy smile: her husband was a merchant, he had to travel far and work so hard, but someday soon his travels would bring him near, he would come home again
- when he did he would kiss her tenderly, he loved and missed her so, her darling Jacques
- when he did he would finally meet his son, the little boy she had named after his father
- she never got out of the habit of dreaming, never really learned to work hard, and though she loved him she was too absentminded to mother her son properly
- she had to stay with her elder sister, already married and widowed, and her sister’s children, by living together they made something of a household
- every few months her husband would bother writing a letter and she’d sigh over it fondly
- she would get one of her nephews to tell her what it said, repeat all the sweet words and reassurances, for she never learned to read
- no one was surprised when she caught a chill one year and wasted away, it was as if her dreams had finally taken her
- her last words were “Jacques, my love” but everyone knew she meant her absent husband; in truth her thoughts lingered rarely on her child

Gaston’s mother:
- her name was Athalie
- to call her so would have left her flustered, she most her life was “Madame Bûcher”; what name to her but as her husband’s wife
- she did not have many friends anyway, even when young she was shy, head down when addressed, speaking softly
- the woodsman made for them a little house on the farthest side of town, practically among the trees
- her world was to keep this house clean, keep her husband fed, mend his clothes, rub his back when he came home from a long day’s work; she did this well and it made her happy
- they wanted children and they tried for many years
- then they gave up, content with each other despite their silent sadness
- then when she was old, and he older, they had so unexpected the healthiest, most beautiful baby boy one had ever seen
- a boy who grew bigger and stronger, despite that she was small and frail, and her husband though stout and strong was otherwise average
- they knew not where he came from, this blessing they had so longed for, and they marveled over and adored him
- she was a faithful woman, superstitious, rosary always with her, despite her meekness insisting every Sunday her family make the journey into town to sit for mass, anything less was unthinkable
- she called her son, born to her so late in life, her “miracle from God”
- she marked his jumps in height against the front door’s frame, she went hungry so he would have everything he wanted to eat
- every time he left the house she would stop him, wipe off any speck of dirt and smooth his hair, admonish him never to hide such a handsome face
- she would send her boy to town with a list she made with symbols on a scrap of paper, praise him when he carried back the shopping one-handed
- her greatest happiness was to watch him grow, her fondest dream for the day he became a man, took a wife, started his own family
- her son’s fourteenth summer a fever swept the countryside; he was off hunting
- her husband fell ill, as she did her best to nurse him she too succumbed; together they died the same way they’d done so much else in life, unremarked and quietly

Through The Valley - Chapter 14

AO3 Link: http://archiveofourown.org/works/10075958/chapters/26444541

Tags: @rickdixonandthefandomlifeposts @embracetheapocalypsewithme @kinkozan @lupienne @theblack-wolf @lovingzombiechaos @dragonracer @miiraal

Pairing: Negan X OFC

Chapter Summary: People getting handsy

Word Count: 4011

“Morning George.”

“Good Morning Miss Lilly.” The older man shuffled up the hallway with his mop. “Have a good day!”

“You, too!” Lilly called back and ran down the stairs and into the cafeteria. Greeting some early eaters, she walked up to the lieutenant’s table, where Seth and Laura had already started their breakfast.

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MysteryPearl Week Prompt 1: Firsts

When Pearl regenerated, she had about thirty seconds to enjoy her new form before she was attacked by something. The something doing the attacking was Sheena, thankfully, rather than the pain-crazed gem monster that had damaged her in the first place—Pearl just managed to stop herself from drawing her spear, and curled her arms around her girlfriend’s warm back.

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8

The horror of Muffet’s battle occurs in the real world, clans of spiders working together exist in nature. Together the spiders can build huge webs that cover trees, and can capture more prey, and larger prey.

You see, what happens is that when a large prey, like the bats or the grasshopper in the photos, gets stuck in the web, the first spider that finds the prey will start tapping on the web in a pattern that other spiders will sense and recognize as “prey here”
Of course in Muffet’s fight, we are told the spiders are dancing and clapping and tapping in a synchronized dance. The beat behind the battles music, Spider Dance, is the rhythm those spiders do to signal prey has been caught and causes the other spiders to swarm and help wrap up and bite the prey, subduing birds, small mammals, snakes, lizards, and bats much bigger than the spiders.

One or more of the largest female spiders in the colony will take care of reproducing and laying eggs, and will feed the young while leaving the hunting and killing of prey to other spiders, while male spiders tend to repair and expand the webs. This is exactly what happens with Muffet. She bakes food for and prepares caught prey for her children, while the rest of the smaller colony members fight and damage the players.

The whole time you are in that fight, you are stuck listening to the cool music playing in the background, that is actually the sound of millions of spiders swarming and tapping out a synchronized vibration rhythm to summon more spiders to come throw themselves at you. Muffet cares for her spider family, and she is willing to do whatever it takes to keep them safe together and to keep them fed. That happy dance is the dance calling for your doom. One tiny spider could never take down something your size, but as the bats and grasshoppers above learned the hard way, they will keep coming and coming and swarm you.

Now there is no evidence of this ever happening, but given the size these webs can get, and how the millions of silk strands can quickly become as strong as a steel cable twice as thick, and as someone who has encountered them in an infestation at a water treatment plant, it’s perfectly possible that someone who fell or kept trying to break through could get stuck in these huge web layers as they built up and tangled around, and there has been more than enough spiders recorded in these webs to deliver the amount of venom to put an adult male into shock, through thousands of bites, killing the same way people die from killer bee swarms stinging them all over. You would rot way before they could eat past your first layers of flesh, but they can digest birds and small mammals, so our very finely haired skin would be fair game to a species with fangs long enough to pierce it. Theoretically it could happen if you were a fool and ran into a huge web and kept struggling forward until you became stuck, but then again, that’s exactly what you just did in UnderTale, ahuhuhu!

anonymous asked:

WHAT would the rfa be like if they had pet rats??? v and saeran too if u wanna but u dont have to!! !!

Thanks for this request! I didn’t include pictures because my laptop was being way slow but I did write the type of rat I had in mind if there was any specifics

Yoosung:

-Would buy girl rats! Maybe only 2, gotta keep the costs down, but they need the company.
-Wouldn’t mind what they looked like! Would get whichever ones they had in the pet shop at the time, but would choose the two with cute little markings if he had a choice.
-They’d keep him company at night when he’s gaming.
-He’d name them fantasy kind of things!
-Would love to give them new toys to adventure around the cage.
-When they are a little older he would try and take them to college. They were too frightened and he nearly lost one.
-Never tried that again.
-Generally they love to be in his hoodie pocket during the day if he’s home!
-He’s always forgetting to make sure his headphone cables aren’t in chewing distance…
-Absolutely hates cleaning the cage at first but then decides it’s his quest for his precious friends and actually kidn of enjoys it, especially them running around in it once it’s clean.
- Doesn’t tell his mum for ages that he has them
-They always steal food from his plate but he doesn’t mind much as long as they aren’t chewing his cables and they are happy.
Thinks they are the funniest little animals.

Jaehee:

-Probably would buy girls because them running around at night while she’s working late helps keep her spirits up. 3-4 of them to keep each other company even when she’s busy.
-Probably likes the black and white ones, like the black hooded kind the best, thinks they are ~classic~ but not super fussed.
-Would buy at least one albino one and name it after one of Zen’s characters.
-A big cage, probably doesn’t like to let them out and about on the loose much because she’s worried about them escaping or getting lost or hurt but will happily take them out to stroke them and hold them every day to destress.
-Learned very quickly that they loved to pull paper into their cage if they could. Stopped leaving paperwork anywhere near them.
-Loves to sit and have coffee and just watch them run around once she’s fed them dinner.
-Shuts them in her room is Jumin makes her cat-sit, and is super tense the whole time.
-Researched a lot into the best foods to give and avoid to keep them healthy and happy.
-Got them a range of things to keep them intellectually stimulated even when she isn’t there, such as puzzles to do to get treats.

Zen:

-Absolutely fell in love with an albino rat so definitely at least one of those
-Probably also a Siamese? I think he’d find them very sleek and beautiful. -Both top eared rats for maximum beauty!
-Would probably get girls so he could teach them tricks and they would be more active.
-I imagine he also found that a male rat needed a good home and was neutered he’s adopt it straight away. -He loves how lazy and cuddly the boy can be, but also how active and super smart the girls are even as they grow up!
_-If he was rescuing a rat he is in no way fussed by how it looks. Goofy as you liike, he loves it.
-If they fight he’s always like, a bit personally offended. I didn’t raise you lthis way??? How dare you posh my gorgeous first daughter? they grow up and learn quickly though and only have the occasional tiff. He learns to ignore it but is still defensive, especially if he thinks there is ANY kind of bullying going on.
-Spends a lot of time letting them roam around freely, he taught them to come back to their names so he trusts them to run round his room/the living room at their leisure.
-probably 3-4, but would adopt more if they needed a good home up until about 6 so he could train them to behave!
-He definitely takes his boy in his pocket, if not one or two of the girls too, especially if he’s just nipping out to get something!
-Often sit on his shoulder or snuggled up under his hair, (or against his chest under his shirt if he’s sitting down).
-SO many photos and videos of his girls doing tricks for treats and his boy(s) snozzing on his bed on the sofa, in his sleeve, on his script…
-Loves to let them lick smoothie or other rat friendly treats from his finger.
Thinks they are beautiful and so smart and gentle.

Jumin


-Would get like, the finest pedigree rats from a private breeder.
I think he’d like russian blues!
-Would get males I think, just to see them sleeping during the day and because he thought he was too busy to engage with girls who want more attention.
-Would get a pair of them.
-They’d probably have a huge cage, and be kept in a room that he reluctantly didn;t allow elizabeth 3rd in.
-Wishes he could take them to work but doesn’t trust them since he doesn’t feel he has the time to train them enough.
-Sometimes has them come to the office in a slightly smaller cage to hang out at his desk, and insists it helps him concentrate.
-Definitely interested in rat business ideas.
-Does let them and Elizabeth 3rd meet once they are bigger and they don’t get into any trouble, but he would not want to leave them unattended.
-Absolutely adores them
-You thought pictures of the cat were blurry? The rats move faster, usually just these grey-blue blurs or bits of an empty cage.
-He loves them though and thinks they are adorable a a dignity about them when they stretch up or when they sleep.
-Has the chef prepare a rat friendly equivalent of his meal for dinner at least once or twice a week so they don’t get bored,, but mostly feeds them the top and most expensive but nutritionally balanced food.
-Strokes them a lot inside the cage or lets them come onto his lap and get some affection. He likes it when they crawl inside his suit jacket and curl up, but he wouldn’t tell anyone that.

Saeyoung

-Boy rats for sure! He loves to have them laze around on his lap or his desk when he works.
-Rex rats I think? The extra curly fur and messy whiskers really amused him.
-Dumbo ears too!
-He’d let them go wherever they wanted as long as they didn;t start eating stuff but he would do his best to rat proof the wires and teach them not to.
Lazy boys weren’t such a problem though anyway!
-Always in his hoodie with him, basically never go into their cage unless they choose to themselves.
-They probably have the most ridiculous names, usually a title and then a first name and a surname.
-Honestly best friends. -Vandewood is unimpressed to find them scurrying around but kind of falls in love too.

V

-Would only take on rescue rats.
-Loves lazy boys for snuggling with!
-Probably would love a husky rat, and maaybe a double rex?
-The husky is super super fluffy and the double rex feels so different and changes the patter and feel over time,
V loves the little babs snuggling up in bed with him, and how much affection they love to have.
-He gets really pleased to come in to see them and they all run up to greet him etc.
-Always has them out on the bed.
-Always giving them treats.
-Handfeeds them and takes them on walks with him with them love under his shirt or something.
-Loves loves loves to just have them climbing all over them and giving him little licks.
-Takes so many gorgeous pictures of them.

Saeran

-Would love to let them climb all over him.
-Inseperable. You rarely see him without a rat on his shoulder.
-Would get maybe 3?
-Would want a naked one I think because everyone thinks they are ugly but he wants to give one love. The others would be fluffy so he could stroke the fluff and feel calm. -Definitely lazy snuggly boys.
-Absolutely best friend for the rats, 11/10. He adores them and prioritises them and their needs.
-Definitely takes better care of himself because he has them to take care of.
-Loves snuggling them when he can’t sleep or is anxious!
-Takes them everywhere. I cannot express this enough. If someone wants to tell him he can’t, he’ll kick up a fuss about it.
-Really finds them peaceful and interesting and loving!



[Mark] Teacher's Pet (Chapter 76)

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Dr Davis’ cabinet is heaven for people like Mark. He’s very discreet and convenient. There is no risk of running into another patient that could recognize you. As we sit in the waiting room, I can feel Mark’s eyes on me, persistent and insisting. I don’t glance at him. I’ve been quiet since we left his office, and I know it’s making him nervous. I’m nervous too, dreading, apprehending. I actually have no clue what I’m doing here. Is this going to be a couple therapy? Will I ever be able to understand him?

Dr Davis opens the door of jis office, all charming smile and glasses. Dr Davis is a black, handsome man in his late forties, always wearing well tailored suits. Today, he opted for maroon.

“Mark, Abigail. Come in, please.” He says to us, and we rise from our seats. I manage a small, nervous smile and amble in while Mark greets him as well.

“Abigail, I haven’t gotten a chance to congratulate you for your graduation. And your engagement.” He says, closing the door behind us all.

“Thank you, Dr Davis.” I, once again, have to force a smile.

“Please, take a seat.” He waves towards the black leather sofa in front of his armchair. Mark and I sit down in front of him while he takes place in his seat, placing a pen and a notebook on his lap.

“So.” He prompts, and my heart jumps in my chest.

“Mark told me you have questions?” He asks me. My mouth dries out of words, and I fidget with my fingers. Glancing nervously at Mark, I see him watching me, his elbow on the arm of the sofa, his fingers over his mouth. I’m not sure I want to do this in front of him.

“Would you feel more comfortable if Mark waited outside?"  Davis proposes, sensing my distress.

"Yes.” I breathe, looking back at him. He nods, giving me a comforting smile, and then turns to Mark.

“Well?”

“You can’t tell her anything if I’m not here.” Mark grumbles sullenly.

“Well, she can’t tell me anything if you’re here.” Davis retorts softly. Mark sighs deeply, and I feel his eyes on me. I keep my eyes on the floor. The sofa dips,and then I hear him rise. I hear his step as he circles the sofa, and watch his muscular back as he strides out of the room. When he closes the door, I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding back.

“He makes you uncomfortable.” Davis states. I look down at my lap.

“He overwhelms me.” I correct him.

“Tell me, what is your concern?” He asks.

“I found out about Olivia.” I declare, looking up at him. The fact that he shows no surprise tells me he knows.

“And I’m too upset to judge objectively.” I add.

“Why would you want an objective judgment?”

“Because he’s asking me to live with it.”

“And you can’t?”

“No.”

“Why?”

“This is not my therapy.” I snap. I know psychologists, I know how they love to psychoanalyze, because I love it too.

“You want my opinion.”

“Yes. Do you think this relationship he has with Olivia is sane?” I ask him.

“No.” He replies. Thank god!

“Why did you not stop him?”

“His stubbornness is something we’re working on.” He says softly. Of course he must have tried to stop him, and of course Mark didn’t listen.

“Mark knew it would hurt me if I ever found out, yet it didn’t stop him. And he can see I’m hurting, but he still asks me to live with it. He’s not like that usually, I want to know what’s going on.” I murmur.

“Mark feels guilty for what he did to that woman, and to him giving her money is his way to repair his mistake.”

“I know that, but I still don’t understand.”

“His self abhorrence is very serious. That is something that goes deep inside him.” Dr Davis says, faint sadness filling his voice. I know this too, and it hurts me every time I think about it. I can’t believe he hates himself so much.

“He’s hurt two persons in his life: you, on many occasions, and Olivia.” Davis explains. So he thinks keeping me happy and keeping Olivia fed and under a roof is like keeping his balance. But why does he think like that?

“But he says Olivia doesn’t hold it against him, and neither do I. He knows that.” I argue.

“Self abhorrence.” Davis repeats. Okay, he hates himself for hurting her, but he must hate himself more whenever he hurts me. If I mean so much to him, he should worry about keeping me happy. He should have said yes when I asked him to stop supporting her. He should have chosen me.

“He should be more worried about hurting me than her. He should choose me.” I mutter. “I should be enough.”

“His past hunts him, constantly. But you appease him. He says making you smile makes him feel like he’s a good person, like he’s earned the happiness you give him.” Davis says reassuringly. But I can’t possibly smile for the rest of my life. Life is not always happy.

“So I have to smile 24/7 for the rest of my life? He told me years ago that if I kept loving him, he’d start believe in himself.” I argue.

“He never really made progress, and I thought he had to recover from the time I left him, but it’s been seven years now. Him letting her use him shows he has no self esteem at all, I thought he had made progress.” I mutter. I feel defeated. Like everything I’ve done for him, every word, every kiss was no use. Like I’m no use.

“He did make progress, Abigail. He made progress during the first two years of his therapy, and then she came back and ruined everything. He won’t listen to me though.”

“Why? Does he feel like he’s making progress now?” I ask.

“He completely gave up on himself. He thinks he’s a hopeless case and now all he wants is maintain this balance with Olivia so he won’t crumble entirely.” He explains. I sigh, letting my head fall down between my hands. He gave up on himself. He gave up three years ago, and I’m learning it now. For three years he pretended, for three years he lied. I am no use.

“I should be enough.” I repeat.“I should be able to drown his demons, not just part of them. He shouldn’t need her.”

“He doesn’t need her, Abigail. She is a burden. A burden he thinks he deserves.” Davis says. I don’t think she’s a burden he thinks he deserves, I think it’s a burden he wants.

“He doesn’t want to stop.” I murmur.

“He feels like he doesn’t have the right to.”

“So, I can’t ask him to stop supporting her.”

“Oh, trust me Abigail. You can.” When I look up at him, he’s nodding slowly.

“He would stop immediately if you demanded it strongly enough. I think you should do it.” He says. I already demanded it strongly. I cried, I yelled, and he said no.

He’s not receptive to my tears, nor my pain. I don’t know when he became so impermeable…to me.

It’s like no matter what I do, he’ll never feel better.

“You know, Mark made all of my demons go away with just his presence in my life and his love.” I muse.

“I’ve loved him for seven years and he’s made no progress at all.” I explain. I’m not sure where I’m going with this, and I don’t like it, but that’s where my mind brought me. I’m questioning everything.

“Mark loves you, and I know you know it, Abigail.” Davis says categorically. It’s third time I heard this today.

“Don’t you think maintaining that kind of relationship behind my back is like cheating?” I ask him.

“How you feel about that aspect is totally normal. Mark had no intention of telling you, he is stubborn and absolutely frightened by the thought of hurting you.” Davis replies. So, should I hold it against him?

“I can’t live with him hiding things from me.” I sigh.

“He’ll stop eventually. I think you’ve shaken him a little bit.” He says. I nod and lean back against the back rest of the sofa, suddenly exhausted.

“Do you have any other questions?” Davis asks. I shake my head.

“Okay.” He prompts, putting notebook and pen away. “Did you start looking for internships? You could work here.” He proposes.

“And have Mark as my case study?” I retort, and we both laugh. That would be extremely funny, and awkward. The door of his office flies open, and Mark comes in without knocking.

“Are we done?” He snaps. My smile fades away instantly. He’s mad.

“Yes, we are.” David says, rising from his seat. I get up as well and Mark walks to us, draping his arm around me and pulling me to his side.

“I’ll see you next week, Mark.” Davis shakes Mark’s hand. Mark agrees dismissively.

“Goodbye, Abigail.” Davis says to me, totally unfazed by Mark’s ire.

“Goodbye.” I mumble before exiting his office with my fiancee.

It’s half past seven when we make it out of the cabinet. Night has fallen. I’m as quiet as before in the car, but a little bit more agitated. I got my answers. I can’t live in some kind of unhealthy threesome and neither can he, no matter what he thinks.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Mark asks, trying to sound casual, but his tone his clipped, his jaw clenched, his hands gripping the wheel tightly. I don’t know why he’s mad, be he has no right to be. I don’t want to talk to him while he’s mad at me. He glances at me, and I shake my head softly. He nods, his lips forming a grim line.

“Are you going to tell me what you think?” He asks after another ten minutes. I shake my head again.

“I see.” He mutters.

“Do I make you uncomfortable?” He asks. Oh, that’s what this is about.

“Then what is it?” He asks.

“You’re mad at me.”

“I am not mad at you.” He snaps.

“Yes, you are.” I retort. He makes a sharp turn to the left, engaging us in a dark and narrow alley. He parks the car there, unfastens his belt, and I watch him, puzzled.

“I’ve put myself in one hell of a situation, and I feel like I’m losing you. Hearing you say I make you uncomfortable and then laugh with Davis while you won’t even address me a single word doesn’t help very much.” He declares.

“I didn’t say you make me uncomfortable. And you feel like you’re losing me because you still won’t believe me when I say I won’t leave you.” I retort.

“Don’t spit on all the progress I’ve made.” He mutters. See? This is why I didn’t want to do this while he’s mad. He takes everything the wrong way.

“You’re the one spitting on all the progress you made by clinging to your past like this.” I snap.

“That’s what he said?” He raises his eyebrows.

“No, that’s what I say.”

“I’m not clinging to my past.” He snaps. Going in circles, I see. This will take us nowhere. He’s stubborn and he gave up on everything, he’s determined to stay miserable. I can’t do this. This is beyond me.

Needing fresh air, I unfasten my belt as well and get out of the car. I slam the door shut and take a deep breath, filling my lungs, and hopefully my mind, with freshness. I close my eyes, hoping that when I’ll open them we’ll be three days back, happy and carefree.

I wish I never went to that gala. I never had time to go to society functions during my studies. Now I can and boom, this happens. I know too much, and I know too little at the same time. We’re opening a new chapter of our lives, and suddenly I wish we weren’t.

I hear Mark get out from the car as well, closing the door and sighing deeply, and then he’s standing in front of me, clouded eyes gazing down at me.

“Abby, please. Talk to me. Let’s work things out.” He pleads, running his hands up and down my arms.

“What did he say? What are you thinking? I need to know.” He murmurs. What I am thinking? I am thinking he fucked us up three years ago, and that the aftereffect is only showing now, when we’re supposed to be swimming in happiness.

“If you had told me when she came to you I would have done something.” I start. “I would have tried to make you understand, I would never have let you start this insane relationship. And it would have been the right thing to do.” I explain.

“But you didn’t even turn to me. You never tell me anything. You don’t even want to talk to me.” I mutter.

“When I met you, you broke every single one of my walls. You didn’t even have to try. I can’t hide you anything, and I don’t want to.” I add, and then my throat tightens, blocking the heavy words from coming out. After I’ve said what I have to say, I’m sure things might not be like before. I’m not sure this is the right thing to do.

Tears dwell in my eyes, stinging, a bug lump making my throat hurt.

“But I’m clearly not that person to you.” I murmur, looking at him straight in the eyes. “I don’t make you feel like you make me feel, Mark. I’m not what you need to be okay.” I whisper.

“Don’t speak nonsense.” He breathes, taking my face in his hands. I grab is wrists and push his hand away, not wanting him to distract me.

“I’ll never make you as happy as you make me.”

“Abigail.” He warns, taking a step closer to me. I grab his forearms and hold him away from me.

“You told me all you needed was my love.” I sob.

“Don’t. Push me. Back.” He grinds out, but I tighten my grip, determined to make him hear me. It hurts, it hurts to say this, but this is what I feel. What I know now.

“You told me if I kept loving you, you’d start believing in yourself.” I choke, tears making my vision blurry. He stares down at me, his eyes blazing, his jaw clechend. He gives nothing away about the intense emotion that flash across his eyes.

“It’s been six years, Mark. Can’t you see it’s not what you need?” I ask. He stays silent, his deep brown eyes searching in the blue of mine. The sky roars, and then rain starts to fall, heavy and angry, disastrous, matching the situation of our couple. We don’t look up at the crying sky, keeping our eyes locked while we start to get wet.

“It makes me question everything. I’d never leave you, no matter what you do, but now it’s not about what you do to me, but how you feel about me.” I explain.

“You know how I feel about you.” He murmurs, his voice quiet and even.

“Now I do, yes.”

“No, that’s nonsense. Don’t even question my love for you, Abigail. It’s me, it’s not you.” He says, taking my face in his hands again, and I let him do.

“I have a dark soul, Abigail.” He murmurs, running his thumb across my bottom lip.

“You’re pure, and sweet, innocent and beautiful. I don’t want to stain your beauty, or you running away from me.” He confesses. I’ve never heard him say something like that. I know he has a poor opinion of himself. But does he think he’s a monster? I look up at him, confused.

“What’s inside…it’s ugly. I’m not the right man for you, but I need you. If I wasn’t so selfish and if I didn’t need you so much I would have let you go. I do need you, Abigail.” He murmurs. I have no idea what he’s talking about. Everything I know about him is beautiful. And I don’t know about his dark parts, but I know his soul, the deepest part of him, is magnificent.

“I love you, Mark. All of you. Even the parts I don’t know, because they’re you.” I explain, sniffling softly.

“Exactly, they’re me, and they’re dark. You can’t love them.” He shakes his head softly. “You can’t love me.”

“I do.” I argue. “I know what’s deep inside. I know how beautiful you are deep down, and I know you don’t want to hurt me. It’s everything that’s around that beauty that you won’t let me take away.” I murmur. He gazes down at me, at complete loss, his drenched hair sticking to his forehead, his dark grey suit turning black, his white shit clinging to his skin.

“Let me in.” I beg.

His eyes widen in alarm, and he lets me go, taking a step back, shaking his head.

“No?” I breathe, and I feel something break inside me. I can’t put my finger on it, but it’s breaking. He’s saying no. I said yes and he said no.

“Ah, fucking hell.” He groans, shoving his hands in his hair and backing away from me as if I was some disease.

“No?” I repeat.

“Baby… Abby… Don’t. Please don’t.” He stutters, his voice shaking.

“I gave you my heart, my virginity, my body, my soul, my whole being, and you say no?” I splutter, sobbing uncontrollably. After so many years of relationship, after all I gave to him, after I’ve let him know about my darkest secret, he says no to me?

“What  the hell are you even doing with me?” I sob.

“It has nothing do to with you, Abigail. I swear. You have to believe me.” He murmurs. Believe what? How can this not be about me not being enough? He simply doesn’t need me. He knows it. I’m not the one. I may be who he wants now but soon I won’t be anything to him anymore. Soon he’ll find the one.

It hurts. The pain is mental, emotional, physical, metaphysical. It pierces my heart and my soul.

As much as it hurts, I know living without him will hurt more. I can’t leave him. I’m trapped, and he’s the key. This will have to end one day or another, and one thing I know is that I’ll never have the strength to put an end to our relationship. But we can’t be together. More tears run down my face, abundant, angry, making my eyes burn.

“I promised I’d never leave you.” I murmur.

“But now the question is, are you going to be cruel and let me hurt like this for the rest of my life or are you going to let me go?” I ask him.

“No.” He breathes, shaking his head, and steps back towards me. “No, no, no. Don’t do this.” He pleads.

“Or you could just tell me.” I add. God, I whish he would tell me. I wish he would let me in. It would save us. It would save me. He sighs and runs a hand into his damp hair.

“Let’s go home, before you get sick.” He says. He’s closing the topic without giving me any answer, any reassurance. He leaves me hollower than before, even more broken, even more in pain.

“So, that’s it?” I ask.

“I don’t know.” He murmurs, shaking his head, his eyes shiny. He doesn’t know. Right.

“I’ll need an answer.” I say. He nods slowly, and then takes my hand.

“Let’s go home.”

-

I am shaking by the time we make it home, already sensing my cold and fever. Just what I need. I am my own shadow, I feel weak, exhausted, both emotionally and physically. Mark takes a quick shower and locks himself in his office, not addressing me a word. I feel lonely. Like he’s already gone. Like I’ve already lost him. I cry in my hot bath, because this is all I can do. Cry my pain out, not even hoping to make it less terrible. I just cry and cry, for hours, unable to stop. I choke on my tears, cough, wipe my runny nose, pull at my hair, my whole body shaking. This grief. This is death.

Eventually, I curl myself into a ball on my side of the bed, and, completely worn out by my crying, by my emotions, by those wasted years of relationship, I drift to sleep.

I wake up the next morning to a broken heart, a sore throat, a headache, and an empty bed. On Mark’s pillow lays a small note with his handwriting.

Breakfast meeting. See you tonight.

No signature, no kiss, just his absence.

The Last Little Girl I Kidnapped

original / author

I sat on the couch admiring my latest acquisition.

She must have been 6 or 7 years old.

I had her hands and feet duct taped with a sac over her head. She howled at first. They always do. Now she was going through the whimpering phase. Satisfied that she wasn’t going anywhere, I turned on the news to see if any Amber alerts had been issued.

That’s when I heard her mumbling.

“2, 14, 26, 32, 40, 41,… 2, 14, 26, 32, 40, 41…”

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The Changeling and the Knight

So, this is loosely based on one of my favorite books as a child: Hasse Simonsdochter by Dutch author Thea Beckman. I’m just using some plot elements and ideas and hopefully making my own world here. No knowledge of the book is necessary.

All my thanks to Mary, and her ridiculously awesome beta skills. Without her, this story wouldn’t even be half as awesome.

Kat, I really hope you like it. I’m sorry I’m a slow piece of shit that got carried away and made you wait forever.

O, de suizelende wind door het jonge riet! Hasse Simonsdochter kon er nooit genoeg van krijgen. Vooral in de lente, wanneer het nog groen en buigzaam was, was het riet haar lief.” – first lines of Thea Beckman’s Hasse Simonsdochter.

 

She has never seen a sight so beautiful as the sun peeking through the forest and trees to hit the water, reflecting the light everywhere. She jumps from her hiding spot and into the light, watching the shapes it creates on her torn skirts – oh Father will be very angry with her when she returns. But how can she worry about Father when there is sunlight and the water is warm as it laps at her muddy feet?

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Something Different

Well, a few weeks ago the wonderful mods at @imagineclaireandjamie put out a notice that they were looking to add a new writer to the team. I applied and filled two prompts to showcase my writing. Honestly, they probably aren’t my best work, but it was my first time writing anything related to Outlander. I’m usually not that great at writing people or emotional scenes. I’m good at fantasy and whatnot. But I did it and I was proud of myself for putting myself out there. 

I didn’t get the moderator position, which is fine. Just submitting anything was a huge step for me.

And then I get a notification today that @gotham-ruaidh mentioned me in a post listing people who were active in the Outlander fandom. So, not only did Gotham encourage me to submit my work (which was terrifying for me to do) now she’s gotten me to want to post my work for other people to read. All without even trying. So. I’ll post both stories below the cut so this post doesn’t take up anymore space than it already is.

Read and enjoy. If you don’t like it, you’re welcome to tell me why, but try and be kind. I put my soul into what I write and take things too personally. Thanks!

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