#i fucking love tofu in soup god that shit fucks me up

[rawvnoisevcruster]

Diy tofu patch

#mypostts #punk diy #diy patches #vegan #vegitarian #tofu #i fucking love tofu in soup god that shit fucks me up

[mo0dy-succubus]

bro that yuqi fic made me think about smth. IMAGINE PEGGING G!P YUQI BRO AHHDJFURKSKAKS AND HER AT FIRST BEING SO SHY TO ASK YOU SHE WANTS YOU TO DOM HER-

sry i dont rly know if ur comfortable w this dont mind my ask if u are💁‍♀️

- your dear 🐺 anon who missed you a lot

Switching roles

G!p yuqi x reader, dom reader, sub!yuqi, pegging, sex toys, strap on,

"Yuqi~ fuck keep going!" You moan,clawing at yuqis back with your nails as she pounds into you. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head feeling yuqi force her way through your tight slick walls. " That's it cum for me baby" yuqi say putting her thumb on your clit as she sees you struggling a bit with your orgasm.

Yuqi repositioned herself back up with your filled up hole fucking you again, you look up at her with teary eyes filled with passion filled lust and overstimulation. "Holy shit~" you hissed feeling the building pressure of your orgasm.

You moan as your back arched before cumming on your girlfriends cock before passing out from your 4th orgasm essentially being overwhelmed.

You wake up, the rays of sun shining down on your face signaling it was morning. You stretched out all your limbs squirming a bit. You get out of bed noticing yuqi is gone, you don't pay much know she probably went down stairs.

You grab a new pair of clothes and take a shower. After you were done you went to the kitchen to see yuqi making food for you and her. One of your favorite meals soft tofu soup. You sit down saying good morning as you walk past her. "You are just in time because the food is done!" Yuqi says beaming.

You thank her her than both thanked the meal before eating. You love having a girlfriend that cooks well, food was the 2nd thing that made you happy besides her. "Hey y/n can I ask you something?" Yuqi says sounding quite serious. You felt a lump in your throat only thinking of the worst possible scenario.

Yuqi noticed your unsteady eyes and notice your anxious body language. "Babe, relax, I'm not Breaking things off with you yet, you know how much I love you". You felt a weight come off your chest feeling better. "Oh thank god....YET!?!?!" You say catching onto yuqis bluff before pushing her a bit as she laughs, her voice deep and echoing. " I was wondering if we could switch roles in bed" yuqi say as she picks at her plate.

You blush a bit Feelimg surprised by the question, yuqi underneath you? Sure you've been top a few times in your sex life but you've never pegged someone. "Are you sure?" Asking hesitantly. "I don't want to hurt you it will take quite a while to feel comfortable" your voice showing deep concern. "I'll be fine! I promise" yuqi says quite confidently before grabbing your hand and squeezing it. "Ok if you say so" you say smiling. "Let's wait for a bit though, ok?" She nods before putting your plates away.

----‐--------------‐‐-----------------------------------------------------

It's been a week since you and yuqis conversation and today was definitely the day Yall both were off from working, your hormones raging and your package has arrived. A brand new strap on. You blush thinking of the item you bought nervous for what was going to happen but still excited.

Night fell and you and yuqi were sharing a spicy kiss. You decide to dom yuqi in the kiss this time sticking your tongue practically down her throat. Yuqi moans feeling you taste her. "Someone seems excited~" you tease yuqi palming her bulge through her pants. Yuqi blushes a bit from getting getting turned on for something so small. "Go to the room and strip for me I'll be there soon" you say nudging yuqi a bit before she got up and went to the room.

You had gotten the strap, taking your clothes of and adjusting the straps to your waist. You go to the room to see yuqi, her fingers deep inside of her small tight hole. "Aww baby" you say grabbing her small wrist. You replace her fingers with the tip of your strap before letting a glob of saliva, coating the fake cock in it.

"Are you sure?" You ask on last time yuqi slowly nods hesitantly. "Yes I'm ready!" .You slowly push in, stopping anytime yuqi made a painful whine or whimper. Yuqi being in the position she was in,faced down in the pillows and ass against you hips. Once you were fully in after 10 minutes you stayed still moving in and out occasionally. Finally a moan slipping from yuqis mouth "Please move..."

You slowly pull out and pushed back in yuqi now gasping her knuckles turning white from her grip on the sheets. "Baby go harder...". "You sure are pretty needy huh?" You say teasing her causing her to blush out of embarrassment. You kiss her temple before stroking her hard leaking cock. You being to increase the pace of your thrust into yuqis tight hole. Moans fall out of her mouth as her cock twitches begging for release. "Mommy may I please cum" she groans out. "Since you asked so nicely why not?" you say before going at an ungodly speed while stroking yuqis tip fast causing her to have ruined orgasm by the way it was forced out if her.

Yuqi screams as she spilled her seed over the sheets. 'Aww what a mess I should punish you for messing up the sheets but I'll let it slide this time" you say before pulling out. "That-was amazing" yuqi say still out of breath. "Can we do this more?" She says looking at you as you remove the straps. "Of course anytime you want!"  You say beaming before going to yuqi kissing her.

#gidle #gidle smut #kpop #kpop smut #smut #fem!reader #yuqi smut #gidle yuqi #song yuqi #yuqi #g!p yuqi #g!p

[moonspower]

💖💖💚

✨ @countlessrealities. meme. still accepting!

💖 he's a great boyfriend to have for someone that doesn't like fancy dates because he dislikes them too. like, he'll go to a fancy restaurant every blue moon for the novelty of it. just so he can turn to you and be like ' oh my god, isn't this the most ridiculous, pretentious shit you've ever seen? ' and make fun of the tiny portion sizes and stuff lmao. that's fun to him! virote's not the type for romantic getaways, either. i mean like... trips for the sake of them just being romantic. nah, boo, lame. he likes taking trips for the adventure of it ya know... to do some cool shit.

definitely not the type to go to a resort in hawaii.

anyway he likes easygoing dates! or interesting without being stuffy. how can he be comfortable around someone if the environment is too high class? just take him to a cuban restaurant with shitty lighting, like 4 chairs, nice ladies in the kitchen, and great soup.

💖 speaking of soup he's a great cook...!! if you tell him you're coming over you can expect like. fried dumplings, scallion pancakes, ginger duck, potato croquets, dried pot tofu… sachima sweet pastries… maybe he'll mix it up with green curry and papaya salad, too.

he reminds himself so much of his granparents on his dads side sometimes lmao because every time he calls his sweet lil grandma in chiang mai she asks ' have you eaten? ' and he does the same for his bf when he texts / calls then. it's a cultural habit.

💚 rly not fond of super sweet talk lmao... and i know that's a big love thing for a lot, but for him that's one of his least favorite gestures. like. he doesn't mind hearing that he's smart, pretty, that he's loved. but he can't deal with that ' ur my sky and sun and earth and everything ur the fire that keeps me warm id die without u!!!11 ' shit. he can't think of a more lame, desperate, airheaded thing to do lmao. that kind of overly-romantic shit makes the hairs on his arm stand up in a super bad way. it almost makes him feel like an object of worship and that's not what he wants in relationship.

like bro just tell him his ass looks great in leather jeans and that you think he's cool or something lgfjkgld. please be normal. the big thing for him is that in the end it feels like shallow grandstanding and peacocking around. meaningless.

schmoozy, overly sweet, hyper-romantic has room in the world! just not around him lol.

the fuck is that nonsense??? a slam poetry session? get outta here with that.

#🌙 ABOUT! CANCERIAN SUN SHINING IN THE EVENING. #countlessrealities #/ yeah he's just not for those that gotta be poetic about shit... lmao. #/ keep that far away from him.

[writersmorgue]

Febuwhump Day 16 - alt. Left Behind

TWs in tags || read on Ao3 || @febuwhump

-

Denki takes a deep breath, steeling his nerves as he strides confidently into the cafeteria. He made sure to tell Mineta he was sitting with him today, to book up the dude’s time before he went to hit on some random girl.

Denki doesn’t particularly admire Mineta, but he’s the only one that seems to understand his love for girls, even if his is slightly more… objective. And he’s the only one in 1-A who doesn’t call him stupid. Surely, he’ll be accepting of Denki after he tells him. Yeah, it’ll be fine, Mineta’s the chillest guy he knows!

He grabs his food and grins at Mineta as he walks toward him. The other boy smirks, waving him over. “Hey dude!” Denki greets him, setting his tray down at the seat across from his friend, “Thanks for sitting with me alone today I actually had something I wanted to tell you.”

“No wayyy,” Mineta whines, “Did you actually manage to bag Jirou? God her tits are-”

Denki laughs nervously, “Um, no, that’s not it Mineta. Sort of related… I guess.”

Mineta quirks an eyebrow, obviously interested. “Oh? Kaminari’s got a new bitch, does he?” Denki cringes at the language but laughs along regardless.

“Uh, I guess. It’s um, not a girl in our class, though.” He hints, foot tapping rapidly on the floor.

Mineta pauses mid-bite, “Really?”

Denki nods, this reaction is promising!

“Some chick in 1-B, or the support course? Man, Hatsume’s boobs are huge, I don’t blame you.” He sighs dreamily. Denki deflates, idly poking his rice.

“Er, no, actually. It’s Shinsou.”

Mineta freezes, causing Denki to freeze. They sit there for a moment, staring at each other.

Mineta grimaces, dropping his chopsticks, “Dude that’s literally disgusting.” He gags, eyes rolling, “Oh, ew man, I can’t even finish my food. Oh god. You’re a faggot?! Seriously? And here I thought you were cool.” He scowls at Denki, pushing himself out of his seat. Before Denki can so much as blink, he picks up his bowl of soup and pours it right over Denki’s hair, dropping the bowl on his head for good measure.

Denki stares at the floor, eyes brimming with tears as one of his best friends walks away spewing slurs at him. The bowl slides off his head and clatters on the floor. The wobbling sound it makes as it circles to a stop ringing in Denki’s head.

He supposes he should’ve expected that.

He doesn’t remember getting up or putting his untouched food in the trash, but the next thing he knows he’s in the boy’s restroom picking bits of tofu and mushrooms out of his hair.

His tears resume when he catches glimpse of himself in the mirror. Classes have resumed already but- he can’t go back like this.

Soggy, crying, faggot.

He chokes, gripping the porcelain sink in his hands.

The bathroom door opens.

Reaching an arm out he rips the hanging paper towel out of the machine and drags it roughly over his face, crumpling it over one eye as he tries to hide from whoever is standing behind him.

“Dunce face what the fuck are you doing in here? Class started ten minutes ago.”

Denki sniffs, tossing the paper towel into the trash. It’s useless hiding from this guy.

“Well, Kacchan, doesn’t that mean you should be… I dunno… in class?” He drawls, not in the mood for Bakugo’s condescending bullshit right now.

“Fuck you.” The other blond spits, shoving his shoulder when Denki tries to shove by him. “What the fuck is up and why are you covered in soup.”

Denki rolls his eyes, “Like you don’t know, I’m sure Mineta has told everyone by now. Just laugh at the fag and leave me along, Bakugo.”

Bakugo’s face scrunches, confusion written on his features, “What the fuck are you talking about? You’re gay, so what. I dunno what this has to do with grape shit unless you like- confessed to him or something.” Bakugo looks disgusted by his own words.

Denki grimaces, “No, uh, kind of the opposite actually. I like Shinsou.” He prepares for disgust, for anger, anything but-

“Oh,” Bakugo nods, frowning but in the way, he does when he’s approving something and doesn’t want anyone to know, “He’s… not trash… I guess. Why him, thought you were into emo.”

Denki relaxes, staring at Bakugo. He answers without really thinking. “Yeah, Jirou’s cool but also definitely not into me. And Shinsou is hot as fuck.”

Bakugo snorts, “Yeah she’s definitely with ponytail anyway.”

Denki snaps back to reality, blinking hard, “Wait what?”

Bakugo gives him a look, “You seriously didn’t know? They’ve been hanging off each other for weeks. Ears sleeps in her fucking room. It’s gross.”

Oh. There it is.

Denki deflates, frowning, “Hey I’m cool with you hating me, but don’t say that shit to Jirou and Momo, they don’t deserve it.”

Bakugo’s gaze flicks to him from where he was examining his shoe, “Huh?” He sounds genuinely confused, which honestly makes it worse.

“The gay is gross or whatever. Look, dude, I don’t care if you don’t like it, but don’t say-”

“No no fuck that, Kaminari.” He stares directly into Denki’s eyes like he’s trying to look into his brain, “I’m gay.”

Speaking of Denki’s brain, it’s currently melting.

“You- Wh- HUH?” Denki babbles, making various arm gestures.

Bakugo frowns at him, “Not that it’s important but, yeah, and I meant the lovey-dovey gross shit they do.” He gestures to the door like Momo and Jirou are right behind it, “‘S nasty.” He shivers, “So much cuddling.”

If Denki had made a bet yesterday on whether or not he’d hear Bakugo Katsuki say the word ‘cuddling’ today, he would be short 50,000 yen.

“You’re gay and you… don’t think it’s gross that I am?” Denki breathes, eyes dry from his earlier breakdown, but already threatening to spill again.

Bakugo stares at him, “Say that again. Slower.”

Denki blinks, “So Mineta was wrong to throw his soup on me? He’s the gross one?” He grins like he just made a scientific breakthrough.

Bakugo’s chin just forward as he stares at him, “Fucking grape-for-balls did that? Because you like zombie?”

Denki nods, tilting his head slightly, “Yeah, called me disgusting amongst other shit, poured his soup on me, and left. I figured he’d be yelling to anyone who’d listen about how his friend is a gross fag.” Denki pouts, “Can’t imagine why he didn’t”

“I didn’t see him show up for class, Aizawa sent me to look for you, not him. He was probably pulled out for something.” The ash-blond scoffs, “Can’t imagine what.” He smirks.

Denki smiles at him, who thought Bakugo would make such a good friend.

“Oh ok, well I’m fine now, we can head back.”

Bakugo snorts, “You smell like miso, Pikachu.”

Denki shrugs, grinning, “If Mina can come to class smelling like a walking Bath and Body Works I can go smelling like soup.”

Bakugo rolls his eyes but doesn’t argue, leading himself out of the bathroom.

Their walk back to class is silent, but not awkward. When they arrive, Denki slides silently into his seat, looking at the sheet that had been placed on his desk while he was gone. He pointedly ignores the whisper of ‘is that miso?’ from Sero.

“Lovely of you to join us, Kaminari.” Aizawa drawls sarcastically from where he’s sitting cross-legged in the corner of the room, “Shinsou, you may continue.”

Somehow, in his effort to ignore literally everyone, Denki managed to go without realizing that his crush is literally standing eight feet in front of him at Aizawa’s podium.

“Uh, right, well I’m Shinsou. Brainwash guy from the sports festival,” he nods to Midoriya and Ojiro, “I’ll be taking Mineta’s position due to his expulsion.”

Denki jolts in his seat- “His what?!”

Uraraka rolls her eyes, “Look, Kaminari, we know you were all buddy-buddy with the little gremlin, but he was a serious problem-”

Kaminari smiles, looking at Bakugo, “He’s gone?”

Bakugo grunts in affirmation.

“Right after lunch, happened pretty fast. I think he had it coming. Don’t know what he did to tip them off though.” Sato adds.

Well.

Denki could cry again.

“Kaminari why are you crying? Do you need to see Recovery Girl? And why are you dripping on the floor?”

Well, never mind.

#some happy for you guys #tw homophobia #homophobic language #misoginy #homophobia #mineta being an asshole #denki kaminari #bakugo katsuki #mineta. #mina ashido #shinkami #shinsou hitoshi #sero hanta #pre bakusquad #class 1-a #febuwhump #febuwhump2022 #febuwhumpday16 #left behind #angst #whump #cross posted on ao3

[smashbuddies]

Heart Exchange

It was time to do something. For months now Snail had been hanging around, almost torturing him with this game of “try to guess what we are”, and it infuriated him. So he had to make the move. He had to push for more than this friends with benefits situation.

His reflection looked terrified for a moment. But he took a deep breath, and straightened out his tie. He’d been through this before. The worst case scenario couldn’t be too bad when you’re already numb to it, right? And he was numb. Of course he was. Why wouldn’t he be? It would be fine.

The doorbell rang, and he rushed down the stairs to go answer it. As expected, Snail stood there, dressed how they usually were even though he asked them to dress up a little. Actually no, they had a little clip-on bowtie on their shirt.

“Cute,” he muttered, already tired. But of course, he really didn’t expect much else. “It wouldn’t kill you to look nice every once in a while.”

“You don’t know that,” they countered with a grin. Then their eyes moved past him, and a frown took over. “Uh, why’s your house lit like a horror movie?”

“God, it’s mood lighting, you prick,” he hissed as he stepped aside to let them in. “I made dinner for us. Daniyal isn’t home, so I thought I’d do something a little special. But I guess you wouldn’t know romance if it dropped right on your thick skull like a brick.”

They had brushed past him, but they froze in place. “Romance…?”

Fuck.

“C’mon,” he rushed out and grabbed their hand to drag them along. “I don’t want the food getting cold.”

He sat down in his place, ready to dig into the soup he had made for himself. Though he carefully watched as Snail slowly sat down, eyes locked onto their own plate like they couldn’t believe what they were seeing.

“You made me a burger,” they said, one eyebrow raised up at him. “What is this, turkey, or tofu, or some shit?”

“Pure beef,” he answered honestly. “You can check the fridge, I still have some leftover.”

A single fry was held up gently between their fingers. “And you actually fried these?”

“Happened to buy a little fryer a week ago,” he replied, eyes now firmly on his own food. “Figured I’d make some use out of it.”

The silence spoke for them. Bullshit.

“Anyway,” he said before they could call him out, “give it a try. I did my best, so you better like it.”

That wasn’t at all what he wanted to say. Damn his stupid fucking mouth, why couldn’t it just work for him for once? Oh well, no use in dwelling on it.

He risked a glance over at them, and wasn’t surprised that they had already taken a huge bite out of it. Carefully, he watched their face. Doubt. Confusion. Realization…

And pure delight. They instantly lit up in a way he’d only seen when he bought them some garbage fast food they really liked. And, well, he would’ve taken that as an insult if they weren’t so damn happy.

“This is really fucking good,” they praised with their mouth half full, already going in for a second bite.

Oh. His heart skipped a beat, and he had to put a hand to his chest to keep it from leaping out. Something about them changed in that moment. He didn’t quite know what, but he wanted to see more of it. He wanted to cook for them more and make all the foods they liked. Just to see that look on their face again.

“Uh, can I help you?”

“I- what?” Daniel instantly tensed up, straightening his back out even though he didn’t even quite realize he had relaxed so much. “No?”

“Well, you were staring at me,” they teased with The Grin on their smug face. “Guess you just can’t get enough, huh?”

“No,” he softly said before his brain could effectively keep his mouth closed. “I can’t.”

That shut them up. It was almost funny how their eyes grew wide, disbelieving. It was almost funny, and… A little sad?

No matter. Dinner passed by in a comfortable flash after that, with just small chatter about both their respective days. Which was mostly the two of them griping about the idiots they both had to deal with at work.

“There’s no fucking way someone can be that stupid,” Daniel said incredulously. “You can’t ask for something then say that’s not what you wanted! Who the fuck does that?”

“Too many fucking people!” Snail huffed and popped their last fry into their mouth. “It’s such bullshit. I hate clients.”

Daniel then realized that the two of them had been engrossed in conversation a little too long. With a curse, he shot out of his seat and grabbed Snail’s hand so he could drag them off to the living room. After he gestured for them to sit down- which they did with a look that screamed I think you’ve gone crazy, but whatever- he grabbed the remote, and sure enough…

“Fuck, it’s over!”

Credits rolled across the screen. He huffed and plopped down next to Snail. If he could make the TV explode with just his glare, it most certainly would’ve happened right then.

Snail leaned forward. “Don’t you hate this show?”

“Yeah, but you like it,” he muttered, putting his head in his hands. It felt like his whole plan was falling apart, even though, reasonably, he knew it wasn’t a big deal. “And this whole night is about you.”

“...It is?”

He sighed and dropped his hands into his lap. This was too soon. He wasn’t ready, but what else could he do?

“Yeah, it is. I wanted this to be a great night for you. Food you like, your favorite show, a good fuck. And then… I’d give you something important.”

Snail tried finding looking at him for answer, eyebrows furrowed together. It was like they almost knew what was going to happen. But they couldn’t, right? That would be the last thing on their mind, he knew that.

But still, he took a deep breath. His heart raced. Then slowly, almost hesitantly, he let it free, shaping it into the world. It hurt, just from how many times he’d done this already. His own hands felt too hot, too rough against it. Each dark, ugly scar ached and stung with just the tiniest brush against them. He sure was numb to this, huh?

He turned to Snail, eyes locked onto his heart, and presented it to them. “I’m not perfect. Far from it... But I want to be yours.”

A long moment passed. Then a cool touch settled around his heart, gently pulling it from the terrible safety of his hold. He dared to look up at them, and almost broke at the look on their face.

“I…” They took in a shaky breath, thumbs sweeping across his heart. “Daniel, fuck.”

“You don’t have to accept it,” he assured them, hands now in his lap. “I can live with another scar. It’s really not a big deal.”

That only made the look on their face more pitying. Up until that moment, they had carefully maneuvered around every scar- both the huge gashes and the hairline knicks. But then they gently cradled his heart in one hand, and delicately put a finger to one of the dark lines curving along the edge. Not big or small, but somewhere in the middle. Their eyes were curious.

A shiver ran through him. And with no other choice, he let out a sigh. “Slept with a close friend in college. We were… Looking for very different things.”

Snail let out a soft “oh”. Then they looped their arm around him and pulled him flush against their side, then their hand went right back into position, tracing along and soothing every little line it came across. He practically melted against them, and softly explained each scar. A girl he had gone on a couple dates with that wasn’t too interested, a month-long relationship that ended- albeit on more friendly terms. With each scar Snail touched, they unlocked another story about an idiot who fell far too easily for his own good.

After god only knew how long of talking, they settled on the last scar. The darkest mark on him. It stretched across from top to bottom like a bolt of lightning, jagged lines branching off to fill more space. Even with their careful touch, that one stung just a bit.

“I…” It had been years, why was he choking up? “Fuck, I don’t think I can…”

“You don’t have to,” they said in the most understanding tone he’d ever heard from them. “But if you want to… I think… Fuck, I don’t know.”

A long pause of silence passed. His mouth lost function in that time, but his thoughts raced by a mile a minute. If they stuck around this long, then this wouldn’t drive them away, right?

“I fell in love with the person who helped start my show,” he finally said. The memories almost flashed before his eyes, like an old home movie. Memories he tried locking away. “While I was an intern, they found my ideas and… Gave me my big break. And they were just so kind, so generous, I couldn’t help it. So I gave them my heart, obviously.”

“They sure didn’t treat it well,” Snail muttered bitterly as they ran their finger a long one of the scar’s branches.

“They tried their best,” he insisted, because of course they did. Why wouldn’t they? It was his heart. “But they wouldn’t give me theirs in return. They wanted me to focus on my career first.”

Snail grew a little stiff.

“Anyway, after the show started airing, I… Got a little full of myself. I wanted to fight the decisions they made, the ones I didn’t like. Overblown guests, topics I didn’t care about, segments that just drove me crazy. And they… Didn’t like it.”

A thrum of fear surged through his heart, which Snail no doubt noticed. They held it close to his chest, as if trying to comfort it. “What did they do to you?”

“Nothing,” he answered, but his heart gave away his doubt. “They got pissed, of course. And they yelled, tried to make me see reason. And afterwards, well… I had made them so angry, they slipped up. Accidents happen, I get that.”

The arm around him tightened.

“After a couple years, I made them so angry that they gave my heart back and left,” he finally finished in a rush. “So, there. That’s it, you know my story.”

“...You don’t get a scar like that from accidents.”

That… Was not what he wanted to hear.

“What the fuck do you know!?” he snapped pulling away from them. “They didn’t do anything on purpose, if that’s what you’re trying to say. They cared about me, more than you fucking do! God, just give me my fucking heart back if you’re gonna be like this!”

Despite his anger, his heart only grew more fearful, as if it didn’t want to go back to him. And maybe it didn’t. Maybe he wanted them to keep it, but… Fuck, how could they even think that?

Snail glared at him, hands tightening around his heart. Then they set it on their lap, and took a deep breath, hands cupped in front of them. Slowly, a purple heart filled in.

A purple, scarred heart. Almost exactly like his.

“My last relationship before you was the worst thing to ever happen to me,” they said, voice low. “Mike was an asshole. He took my heart and didn’t give me his. And when he couldn’t control my body, he…”

Daniel grew cold. No, that couldn’t be right. But the scars, that broken look on their face. He didn’t want to believe that anyone could hurt Snail like that, but… Everything said otherwise. So he reached out, hands together, silently beckoning for Snail’s heart. As soon as it was dropped into his hands, he pulled it close, hands as gentle as they could be.

“You were abused,” he said under his breath.

“Yeah,” they sighed out, with his heart back in their hands. “I sure fuckin’ was.”

He pulled Snail’s heart away form himself just to get a closer look. The dark purple lines looked like they were begging for comfort, for someone to just reassure them that everything would be okay. And he could feel Snail’s eyes on him, as if they were ready to snatch it back if he made the wrong move. But could he blame them?

A light touch. Just to test the waters. Snail gasped and had the most visceral reaction he’d ever seen. He quickly pulled his hand away and asked, “Fuck, sorry, did that hurt?”

“No,” they answered, voice strained. “Shit, I just… I’m not used to it feeling like that. It’s… Nice? Fuck, I don’t know.”

His finger went back to the scar, feather-light. It had been an eternity since he held someone else’s heart, he almost forgot what it was like. Soft and warm, but almost as if nothing was there. Hearts were odd. On another plane of existence. But he didn’t care about that philosophical bullshit.

A touch on his own heart surprised him, making a shiver run down his spine. But he kept up his soothing ministrations. After a moment, he even lifted it up closer to his mouth, so he could sing softly to it. A little love song he heard in passing a couple days ago. It had gotten stuck in his head and now he just had to get it out. Their heart thrummed quietly in his hands, making him almost grin.

“The hell are you doing?” Snail asked, giving him a side-eye.

“Some hearts like it when you sing to them.” He pressed a light kiss to it for good measure, then smiled to himself. “Guess yours is one.”

That incredulous look on their face softened. Then, unfortunately, his eyes were drawn to his heart. The scars stood out to him even more now. You don’t get a scar like that from accidents. But they had to be wrong about that.

He looked back to their heart. And it hit him that they couldn’t be. They’d know. Without a shadow of a doubt, they’d know about scars like that. About abuse. What it’s like to be used and manipulated, living in fear of the person you love. And apparently, now he knew too.

“Daniel… Are you crying?”

Well, shit. He sure was. He wiped away the tears with the back of his sleeve, then let out a deep sigh. “I won’t hurt you like he did. Fucking hell, I’m going to keep your heart as safe as I can, Snail.” His finger trailed along one one the unmarked patches of their heart. “I promise. I don’t want to be another scar for you. Just… Please, don’t be one for me too?”

The way his own voice cracked made him wince. But Snail pulled him onto their lap, so they could hold him close. He could feel the firm grip they had on his heart. Like a promise.

“I won’t.”

#snailbitch #heart au #heart exchange #fic #mod cantolope

[matsinko]

"wow, i didn't think you could make me smile this big" OR "you were a big piece of inspiration for this, honestly" with EITHER; iwaoi (obviously gotta have the Fave), tensemi (do you like this ship? i cant remember), bokuaka (🙏🏻), OR if you're up for a CHALLENGE!!!! S4!

5 times Iwaizumi can’t make Oikawa smile and one time he does.

(or alternatively: 5 times Iwaizumi doesn’t have his shit together and one time he does)

1. Oikawa’s smile is beautiful when it’s genuine. It’s more uncertain than his 24-karat of white teeth that he shows his countless of fangirls and the curious news reporters who started flocking around him since he made starter in the second half of his first year of high school. When it’s genuine, his eyes smile too, his cheeks dimple and he looks radiant; Iwaizumi always felt the need to look away. Look way before he falls in a hole so deep he can’t get back up.

Oikawa isn’t smiling at him right not, hasn’t smiled at him in that genuine pretty way in more weeks Iwaizumi can’t count.

Oikawa is frowning, his lips are pressed shut, pulled downwards, and there is a little crease between his eyebrows. He seems tense, every muscle on his body pulled tight like a spring. Iwaizumi stopped asking after the fifth or sixth Oikawa avoided answering.

Fukuhara clicks his tongue, “Earth to Iwaizumi!”

Iwaizumi’s attention snaps back to the girl in front of him. She’s leaning way into his personal space across his desk with curious eyes peeking from behind her bangs. “I lost you there for a second.” She smiles easily, prettily, and pushes a strand of hair behind her ear.

Fukuhara sits at the desk right in front of Iwaizumi. She’s friendly and carefree and the moment they’ve discovered their mutual love of action movies and ancient seinen manga, they’ve fallen into an easy, breezy friendship.

And somehow, the more she smiled, the more Oikawa frowned.

✩

2. The locker room is buzzing with post-practice energy. It smells like sweat and deodorant, familiar and somehow not unpleasant. Too many years spent in locker rooms with guys, Iwaizumi figures.

Hanamaki slaps Matsukawa with a towel across his bottom, Yuda wolf-whistles, and Matsukawa makes a lewd comment, accompanied by his signature smirk. The way he makes his voice low and mock-flirtatious just to fuck with Hanamaki never fails to make him cringe.

He laughs despite himself at their silliness. Yet he feels oddly hollow as his laughter dies in his throat. Because he cannot hear the loudest of voices, the silliest of jabs, the brightest of laughs.

Oikawa is changing at the end of the room, away from the third years. He’s quiet, too quiet, almost invisible. He pulls his sweaty jersey over his head and Iwaizumi’s eyes follow the strong taunt of his back muscles as he works a clean shirt back on. He seems tense and Iwaizumi wants to kick his ass until he talks but he feels weirdly reserved about it.

He isn’t used to talk to Oikawa who doesn’t want to talk.

So he turns around and quietly finishes changing, trying to stuff the worry that nags at him deep down.

✩

3. They all squeeze into a tiny booth of their favourite shabu-shabu shop, a cheap old thing just 15 minutes away from their school. Iwaizumi is squeezed between Fukuhara and Matsukawa on a seat for two while Hanamaki and Yuda share the opposite one. Sawauchi drags a chair from god knows where while talking on the phone that he has squeezed between his ear and shoulder. Probably Shido, Iwaizumi thinks, the other second string 3rd year.

Shido often skips those outings because of his strict parents and the others never fail to give him shit about it.

Fukuhara keeps adding beef and vegetables to the hot pot, not bothering to cook the meat first, until it’s basically overflowing with ingredients. Matsukawa and Hanamaki seem to be having some kind of an under-the-table kicking contest, which Iwaizumi feels first hand when Hanamaki manages to kick him instead of Matsukawa.

“Fuck,” Iwaizumi curses with a flinch and Matsukawa laughs at him, then mocks Hanamaki for being a douche to their vice-captain.

Hanamaki rolls his eyes with a snort. “He’s a resilient motherf—”

“Jesus, Makki, you have such a filthy mouth,” Fukuhara squawks loudly, cutting him in, and pushes forward to slap him across his head.

“Iwaizumi, put a leash on your girlfriend,” Hanamaki mumbles sullenly and holds his forehead where she slapped him with mock-hurt. Iwaizumi swears the guy’s gonna start crying if it makes his acting game stronger.

“She’s not my girlfriend,” Iwaizumi says, “and you deserved it.”

Fukuhara raises both of her eyebrows in the perfect I told you so facial expression then she checks the meat, deems it a good colour for eating, grabs some with the longer table chopsticks and transfers it into her ponzu sauce.

Iwaizumi goes for the tofu first, gathering a bunch of pieces on his own dish.

“You need to let it cook and soak the juices from the meat,” Fukuhara scolds him before she puts the well-pinked slice of beef in her mouth and chews thoroughly.

Hanamaki snorts. “He always does that. Only Oikawa manages to—,” his voice trails off and he scans the table. “Where’s the fuck’s Cap’?”

All people on the table, including Fukuhara, turn to stare at Iwaizumi.

A couple of seconds of silence stretch uncomfortably between them before Hanamaki breaks them, “Call him, you dick!”

“Why me?”

Hanamaki’s eyes gives him a look that would have been are you fucking kidding me, if Yuda didn’t actually say it out loud.

“Today, Iwaizumi,” Matsukawa says from his left.

He takes out his phone and dials Oikawa gingerly, a selfie Oikawa himself he took and set as his contact photo flashing briefly before Iwaizumi lifts the phone to his ear.

He waits.

And waits.

And waits.

Oikawa doesn’t pick up.

“You guys fighting?” Yuda asks over a mouthful of meat. Iwaizumi is a pro with deciphering what Yuda is saying with his mouth full now. He had some years of experience down the line.

“No,” Iwaizumi answers but he isn’t really sure. Are they? Did he do something wrong? Because Oikawa is avoiding them and he can’t continue denying it.

Oikawa loves shabu-shabu. He loves adding extra noodles when the vegetables are cooked thoroughly and eating them along with a full, rich soup. He has always been patient like that, waiting until the very end to eat. It’s because I have a refined taste, Iwa-chan, something you wouldn’t understand, he’d say and wait.

Oikawa keeps Iwaizumi from eating all the tofu before it’s cooked and makes sure everyone else have a share of it too. He always sits next to Iwaizumi and his hair always gets in the way. Iwaizumi likes brushing his bangs back under a murmur of idiot, you’ll go blind that has no bite to it.

His fingers curl around his chopsticks until his knuckles go white. There’s this distinctive tightness of his chest again, a pang of pain, a feeling he’s growing to associate with missing Oikawa. It’s coils inside his body, strong and unpleasant.

And the thing is - no one even questions him, as if he’s some kind of an Oikawa expert. No one else calls. Yet Iwaizumi has the sinking feeling that if someone else does, Oikawa will pick up.

✩

4. Iwaizumi worries his lower lip between his teeth as he hits send.

hey, you ok? his text reads.

“You won’t manage any studying done if you keep worrying,” Fukuhara says from where she’s sitting cross-legged on his carpenter floor, hunched over the small wooden table. She’s working on their maths homework and Iwaizumi gets the fleeting thought of Oikawa copying his homework despite the fact he’s more than capable of doing it himself. Iwaizumi would always grumble of how undeserving Oikawa is to be in the more advanced class and Oikawa would always laugh.

Iwaizumi misses his laugh like how he’d miss sunlight if he’s in a room without windows. He never knew how much it uplifted him until it was gone. Making Oikawa laugh felt like a victory, it warmed him from the inside and never failed to make him smile.

But he’s afraid - he’s afraid to poke and dig because he isn’t sure he’s ready to acknowledge what he finds.

He startles when the door of his room is suddenly thrown open and his twin brothers barge inside with conviction.

“What did I say about knocking, you little—?!” Iwaizumi roars but they seem too busy looking at Fukuhara to be intimidated by their older brother.

“Huh?” Kenta says, perplexed.

“We thought Tooru’s here,” Kouji adds, or more like, whines in a very childish, very disappointed manner.

“Even Oikawa wouldn’t be able to save you from some good ol’ ass-kicking,” Iwaizumi says slowly and cracks his knuckles to prove a point.

Kouji is the first one to step back, moving to glare at Iwaizumi from behind his twin brother’s back. “Where’s he?” he asks with suspicion.

“How should I know? Do I look like a seer to you?” Iwaizumi says.

Kenta gives him the stink eye. “Good for nothing older brother,” he grouses with his chin held high like the little brat he is.

Iwaizumi swears that’s all Oikawa’s doing.

“What did you say?” he asks, voice every ounce of intimidating, which seems to finally startle the two 12-year-olds. All he needs to do next is just get up from where he’s sitting on the bed and both of them are squawking and running away, leaving the door of his room wide open.

“Kouji! Kenta! Shut up!” He can hear his mother yell from downstairs.

Iwaizumi shakes his head and chuckles. They’re running down the stairs and he can almost feel the echo of their steps. Two elephants in a glass shop, those two.

“Mom!” Kenta yells back, “We’re getting Tooru!”

“Careful when you cross the street,” their mother warns and next thing he hears is the front door being slammed shut.

His stomach drops. Will Oikawa actually come? He has always been weak to his brothers’ boyish charms. Oikawa loved those kids and never failed to indulge them.

“They seem to love him,” Fukuhara says good-naturedly as she twirls her pen between her fingers.

“They really do,” Iwaizumi replies simply.

He hears Oikawa’s voice carry from downstairs just a couple of minutes later and his pulse picks up instantly, like his heart is attuned to Oikawa’s presence.

He gets up without thinking and heads for downstairs.

“Kenta, Tooru isn’t a horse!” He can hear his mother’s fond but strict voice, “Stop trying to make him piggyback you!”

“It’s okay, Auntie, I promised the little devil I will if he finishes all his homework,” Oikawa replies over a laugh.

“And I did, mom! All of it!” Kenta says enthusiastically.

“I want too! When’s my turn,” Kouji whines loudly.

Iwaizumi walks into the living room and their eyes meet. Oikawa’s smile drops.

✩

5. Matsukawa and Hanamaki corner Iwaizumi after practice. They lock the changing room door behind their backs after making sure no one’s left but Iwaizumi.

“So, what’s the deal?” Hanamaki goes straight to business.

“Am I held hostage?” Iwaizumi asks instead, glancing at the locked door behind their backs. They look like some night club bouncers that take a law course part-time.

“Told you he’s gonna deflect,” Matsukawa tells Hanamaki matter-of-factly.

“I’m right here!” Iwaizumi says and crosses his arms protectively. Not that anything can protect him from Matsukawa and Hanamaki once they’re on a roll.

“Look we can do it the hard way or you can tell us what the fuck is happening with you and Oikawa?”

Iwaizumi sighs. It was only a matter of time until they notice. They’re their closest friends.

“Wait,” Iwaizumi tries to avert again, “what’s the hard way?”

“Yeah, ‘Hiro, what’s the hard way?” Matsukawa snickers.

Hanamaki kicks him, “Focus!” Then he turns to Iwaizumi. “The hard way is me kicking you damn ass, then becoming the ace in your place, you shit. Now spill. Why are you avoiding him?”

“He’s avoiding me!” Iwaizumi says, defensively.

“We all love Fukuhara-chan, but we’re also not blind. She fills up that Oikawa spot fine for you, huh?” Hanamaki shakes his head in this wise-men-in-movies way.

��We never took you for the guy that ditches their best friend when he gets a girlfriend,” Matsukawa adds. Devil’s advocate, this guy. Iwaizumi wonders if it’s the universe doing God’s work or whatever bringing those two together.

Iwaizumi feels annoyance settle under his skin, hot and thick. “She isn’t my girlfriend. And I haven’t ditched him!”

“You kinda stopped hanging with him for lunch,” Matsukawa points out.

“And you started doing your disgusting study groups only with Fukuhara-chan,” Hanamaki adds.

“She actually does work!”

“Uh-huh,” Hanamaki says with raised eyebrows. “And what’s your excuse of not sitting next to him on the team bus?”

Matsukawa pretends he’s wiping tears, “We thought the world was ending when you sat next to Kyoutani.”

“I wanted to talk to him about his off-speed spike!”

Hanamaki ignores him. “Is it because we take photos of you two cuddling?”

Iwaizumi’s blood rushes to his face. “We are not—”

“You’re avoiding him, Iwaizumi,” Hanamaki cuts in, “You stopped leaving space for him where he always belonged. That’s why he stopped tagging along” His light-brown eyes study Iwaizumi for a second, searching, then he sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. “You haven’t figured it out really, have you?” Hanamaki’s voice comes mellow, carrying a certain degree of careful tenderness he isn’t used to hearing from him.

Iwaizumi’s throat goes dry. Has he done all this? Was he so afraid of letting Oikawa in that he shut him out completely?

Iwaizumi feels like an overstuffed box, sealed with old, faded tape. And Oikawa is so good at picking up the edges, at peeling off the tape. He has been doing this for years — peeling — leaving just one stripe of yellowed, old tape. And Iwaizumi’s afraid, he’s so afraid that when the last piece comes off, everything is going to start overflowing; everything he has carefully stored away, out for everyone to see. For Oikawa to see.

His eyes burn, the pain of suppressing his emotions overwhelming him.

“Jesus Christ, Iwaizumi,” Hanamaki says softly, carefully. He nods to Matsukawa who unlocks the door. They leave him alone with his thoughts.

This night he dreams of middle school Oikawa with his big heart and big dreams. They’re sitting in Oikawa’s backyard trying to count all the stars in the sky, as if that’s possible.

“I love the stars!” Oikawa says with his big, stupid grin and Iwaizumi hums back, warmth spreading down his chest.

No one talks for a while which makes Iwaizumi nervous, antsy. He shivers, telling himself it’s because of the chilly night not the unusual silence. He hates when Oikawa is being quiet.

“But you know what I love more, Iwa-chan?” Oikawa’s voice is a mere whisper, that carries with the night wind.

Iwaizumi thinks he can capture it in a little jar, like it’s a firefly. It’s a stupid thought.

“What?” He croaks. He doesn’t want to know—is afraid to know.

“You.”

Iwaizumi startles awake, shaking and drenched in sweat.

This isn’t just a dream, he thinks as he rubs his face with a groan. It’s a memory.

✩

+1. Iwaizumi’s palms are already sweaty when he knocks on Oikawa’s door.

“Hey, it’s me,” he says, “can I come in?”

“No,” is the reply he gets before he presses on the handle, opens the door, and walks in.

Oikawa is half sitting, half laying on the bed, his hair pulled back with a headband, his glasses perched low on his pointy nose. He’s wearing an old, ratty t-shirt with a muddy-green alien stamped at the front and faded maroon shorts. He looks endearing, Iwaizumi thinks, so painfully endearing.

Iwaizumi’s stomach clenches and his heartbeat goes louder and annoying in his ears. He was so stupid, for so long, that everything he planned to tell Oikawa suddenly feels small and insignificant; like whatever comes out of his mouth isn’t going to be enough.

Oikawa raises an eyebrow at him but doesn’t speak. He closes the book he was reading and puts his aside, his eyes never leaving Iwaizumi as he does. He doesn’t look mad or upset, he looks guarded, which, Iwaizumi concludes, is worse, because he isn’t being trusted.

“I’m so stupid,” Iwaizumi says, deflating, “and I am so sorry.”

Oikawa’s still looking at him without speaking, eyes intense and calculating and Iwaizumi can’t look away. It’s been so long since Oikawa looked at him, properly looked at him, giving his undivided attention, that he feels weak under his gaze, his knees going soft and wobbly.

“Look,” Iwaizumi croaks and moves to sit at the edge of the bed, the closest he can manage without actually combusting, “I got scared.” He lets the words sit for a while before he continues. “You’ve always been so certain about what you want, so unapologetic in—wanting. God, Oikawa, when you want things, you just go for them and I—,” he waves his hands when his throat clamp up around his words.

His eyes sting. Jesus, he’s pathetic. He should have kept the box shut and here he is, standing by the person who peeled the tape bit by bit.

He presses on. “I thought if maybe I didn’t acknowledge your feelings, they’d not be true and I—I hurt you and—,” he takes a sharp breath. “Fuck—I want to play volleyball with you. I want to talk to you in the locker room after a game and I want to walk home with you. I want to laugh with you during lunch break and I want to study with you, even though you copy my math homework all the damn time.” Oikawa laughs at that—his beautiful, beautiful laughter—and Iwazumi takes the chance to inch closer and take Oikawa’s palm in his. “Who’s going to distribute all the tofu equally when you’re not there, you idiot?”

“Isn’t that good?” Oikawa murmurs, “You get all of it.”

“Fuck the tofu,” Iwaizumi says, “I—,” his voice cracks and he takes a deep, stuttering breath, “I want you.”

“You do?” It’s almost a whisper, small, uncertain and it makes Iwaizumi ache.

“Yeah,” he breathes. “Oikawa—I want to count all the stars in the sky with you.”

Iwaizumi palm is sweaty above Oikawa’s and his heart is trying to beat right off his chest.

“Iwa-chan—,” Oikawa’s voice voice catches and he sniffs.

“Don’t cry,” Iwaizumi says and his own voice cracks and wobbles.

“Hypocrite,” Oikawa says back then smiles and all of Iwaizumi’s whole world narrows to this exact moment, to Oikawa’s beautiful, earnest smile, to his painfully endearing dimples, to the way his eyes shine and his heart fills with love to the brim, helplessly so.

And as he falls forward, taking Oikawa in his arms, it all fits together, it all makes sense. “I’ll let you peel off the last piece of tape,” he says.

“Huh?” Oikawa asks. “Tell me, Iwa-chan!”

Iwaizumi just laughs

#iwaoi #matsuhana #haikyuu!! #oikawa tooru #iwaizumi hajime #seijou #original female character #my writing #5+1 fic #mattsunflower #replies #the girl isn't a plot device she's cool and i love her

[white-sockss]

august 16, 2019. 2:45 am.

i miss cooking and hot meals. i’m tired of eating cold food. before everything started, i would cook for myself pretty often. i would make stuff that wasn’t healthy, but it was stuff i enjoyed. i loved baking and cooking. it was something to pass time and i enjoyed every minute of it. i remember making cupcakes, muffins, cakes, cookies, and everything else under the sun. i personally loved making melty chocolate chip cookies and buttery snickerdoodles. ugh, and pies! i loved apple pies and pumpkin pies so much - especially when they were warmed with some whipped cream or ice cream! i remember making mashed potatoes, butter corn, pasta, soups and pizza. i remember trying out stupid recipes i would see online and then failing but me having fun in the process. i miss warm, homecooked meals. i miss making things. i remember making this delicious chili with kidney beans, tofu, zucchini, and other random stuff, hella seasonings, tomato sauce. put that over some swirl shaped pasta (god, i miss pasta so much. i used to LOVE pasta like all shapes and kinds) and bon appetite, but nowadays, i wouldn’t dare make something as filling and calorific as that. i can’t imagine what it would be like if i purged it (since it was spicy) or how many pounds i coupd gain just from tasting it. every single food/drink i look at, i see calories and numbers. i see what could possibly fuck up my progress, something that could make me fat. i’m scared to eat anything “unhealthy”. when i do allow myself to eat, i only allow myself to eat fruit and vegetables. nothing warm or homecooked - too much time. i miss sitting down and enjoying actual meals. now, it’s stand up and eat a piece of fruit, binge on processed foods and throw it up 30 mins later. everything is quick and easy. oranges, apples, rice cakes with peanut butter, applesauce, purple yams, etc. eating is no longer something i enjoy like i used to. i don’t remember what it felt like to eat until i was satisfied. nowadays it’s just eat and hope you don’t feel like shit afterwards. i don’t remember what it feels like to feel full but in a good way, not in a way as to where it hurts to move. food no longer is a source of nourishment and pleasure for me, rather it’s just another nuisance and a road block to my end goal. it’s a fucking task just putting something in your mouth because you know it’s going to come back up anyways. i wish i could eat without giving a shit, but i know that’s no longer possible. i’m too far in this journey to fuck it up.

#promia #anorexic #anorexia #bulimic #bulimia #pro ed #ed #tw #eating disorder #eating disoder tw

[orgasmonparalysis-blog]

March 18th, 2017.

This morning at around 10:00AM, I found myself caught in between reality and a nightmare. Sleep paralysis again. It’s been awhile but I’ve been not myself lately. A lot of thoughts combined. Feelings of pure guilt and going back to the unwanted thoughts that circled in my head too many times before. Maybe the lightning in my eyes from the constant starring into my devices. My brain needs a break most likely. It could be a place of hell. But I won’t allow it. I am strong you see. Depression, it flew in me that one time. But back to this reality that I thought that it truly was. I had been thinking of Rakim before that. How we would meet someday and how we would share this touch that could be combined into one. I felt his need yesterday and we talked pretty much all day through twitter. He goes away from time to time and we just started talking a few days ago. But not like we did yesterday. I like him. But I like the version I am presented with. That’s always how it begins right? You don’t get to see them, but you feel them in every way you don’t want to. Especially after having multiple encounters with people who sort of wronged you. I smiled last night. All while recording a fresh breath of air. Something called ‘’sorda’’ which is my slang for ‘’sorta’’. I was talking about how I sort of liked him. I want to love someone a bit. But I wanted to share the passion more without feeling unfulfilled after. Not that I want to be fulfilled by it but I feel this blockage inside. Like I can’t be happy after someone passes me by. In the moment is in the moment for me but after that, it’s back to reality. That reality is mostly my problem. The paranoia. The stains. The OCD. What is OCD? The ADHD. Who is that kid in me?

But going back to the reality I had this morning,

Once I had realized that I was in this condition of paralysis, I rested like I would normally do in this state to see if I could try to wake up properly again. But hald of my body would not allow me to. I think I tried about 4 times before laying here. Eventually my ghost decided to stretch a little more and I was able to reach for the phone that was near me and I tried calling my sister but she couldn’t understand a word coming from my mouth. I ended up calling my cousin Ann-Mary whom I don’t even talk to anymore. She couldn’t understand because it sounded like I was mumbling. I was basically mumbling actually. But it all felt so real. I guess I must have given up or something but this little feeling just started escalating like a cute little whisper inside of my hole. I’ve felt this little flute before. I like this flute alot. She corrects me down there. She treats me. Pending for days. But she returns so suddenly.

An orgasm saved me from my paralysis. An orgasm.

I woke up, curved my back a little feeling uncomfortable because the window stores were open and then a speck of white gel was apparent.

I must have really came after that.

Today, I plan on moving my butt. Getting out there and focusing on by body. She is so out of shape. It feels weird saying ‘’she’’. Everything is like paranoia to me and I hate that. I want to be able to step on anything that makes me feel scared. All the little things. this OCD. I will crash you.

I’m going to get hemp hearts and spirulina.I’m on this journey to somewhere between veganism and vegetarianism without dying. Then I’m hoping to grow some female pussy lips and go to Tai Chi even though my instructor makes me feel a little hot and bothered? He’s this Korean Goddess. Maybe in his mid 40′s? But I am sure he is way older than that but looks amazing because he can stretch like better than a monkey probably can. it has been a year now and my body…it cannot stretch. I’m dead inside and out.

I want to change that today.

***

12:26 AM. I ended up getting my Valerian tincture and the rest of the things I needed. The thing about not knowing how to feel is a result of my misunderstandings if that makes any sense. the unknown in its own form. I’m here eating left-over pizza with vegan cheese from Pizza Pizza. I must say, this fucking cheese sucks. I checked the stove a few times even when I knew it was turned off. I guess I should be sleeping but my plans took an unexpected turn today. I broke a lot of promises today, but that’s okay, there’s always tomorrow. I guess I’m semi-permanently sort of high right now too. We were there tonight in another artists’ globe. Think if the Christmas ones you shake just to see the snow fall around. My friend and her friend came to bring me some tofu soup. No one ever comes over. It wasn’t planned but they had came a few days before that and so I thought it was the good thing to do. To invite them into my home even though deep down I fucking hate this place so much. There’s just way too many bad memories involved in all of her walls. As the chatting began, I realized I wasn’t alone in the intrusive world and I felt compassionate towards those who have sleeked their own deaths. How sad. It truly is. Around Christmas. A few days before it I found out that an old childhood mate had taken his own life which made me question myself at that time and my own anxiety. I had messaged his sister in complete shock but there are no words to tell you how and what I felt about this. He committed suicide back in 2010. It took me all these years to find out. But you want to know something really fucked up? It’s as though I had gotten a premonition. It felt like a deja vue and if you ask me how, I wouldn’t be able to tell you why. It’s like I had already known and that my friend, is really fucked up. I cried so much that one night. I think more than once so maybe twice. I wept. I just wish I could have kissed him softly. But back then, we were kids in elementary school. He was bullied a lot. I bullied him a bit at some point but not as much as the other kids did. I felt like I let him down. But I was a kid and there’s many things I would have changed had I known the shit I know now. I miss you along with the other people I have lost along the way. And the funny thing about it is that the people I have a hard time letting go are the people I wasn’t keeping in touch with.

My photographer friend captured some real art today. Jazzy little pink drums with a speck of rose scented hues like the red light district. I was there too. Sort of in this dream you could say. New acquaintances helping to bring to life the things for her that still and will always hold much meaning. Her other friend was super high during her shoot so I’m not even sure how the fuck that’s even going to turn the fuck out. lol. I’m not sure why or how God put me there. But I was there and in the back of my mind, I know and feel most things and maybe all things have their purposes. But what was mine? As always, I feel a bit blank this morning (because it is 12:AM and up technically). Maybe because I’m partially high. I even told myself I wouldn’t smoke again but that shit doesn’t come to find me so it’s actually that time to put throw the blame on myself. Like I don’t do that enough already. I also told myself I wouldn’t let myself be in the car with someone under the influence again but there I was, sitting in between the passenger belt with the panic attacks still lurking in my guilt from freedom.  I really don’t plan on taking this chance every again.

It’s often more personal than we know when we are just two high people in each others company. It’s really easy to misinterpret another’s intentions in this mind-state. I know you will be well and we all will. My hope. But for now, we are faced with many trials and tribulations. I get frustrated not knowing what and how to say things. On the trip back home, the radio station was playing this song that went ‘’Maria Maria, girl, I know you so much…She turn around and tell me…its not easy to spend plenty money.’’

Tomorrow I must go and take the first photo for my book. The first picture of many pictures to come. I didn’t hear from my potential new love today but I which I could play with this mystery. You know I feel so alone in myself sometimes. I wish something could help and I want temporary love. Something that will last long enough to make me whole at last. Long enough that I won’t sigh if the feeling of a lost soul come back. That’s me. I need to call the Counselling office and find out when appointment is because the date she had me write down doesn’t mark on the Wednesday.

My mother needed passion fruit for eyes.

She’s cold at first but then she is nice. Natalie called and brought me to church.