“ Hey. Are you single?” Said Cain. He was a stranger at the time, no less of a person to me. I found his straightforwardness endearing, so I accepted him. Eight years now we’ve been married, and life couldnt be more of a hell hole. Andduhhhh

GUYS IM SO SORRY IM SO TIRED GET PART TWO LATER))

“Have you heard the story of the moons?”  Dare groaned, lying back on the mat and pulling the blanket over his head. “I don’t want some story!” Sim yanked the blanket off, turning to face the healer. “I haven’t.” Dare sat up. “How have you not?” Sim glared at him until he broke eye contact. The healer laughed softly. “Do you mind if I tell it, then?” Sim nodded eagerly, and Dare sighed. “Fine.” The healer smiled and closed her eyes. When she opened them, they’d turned a vibrant blue, so different from the milky white they’d been only a moment before. “In the earliest days, this world had only one moon. The cruel Kiyeeng, lord of the heavens.” “You mixed it up,” Dare interrupted. “Galia came first.”  The healer turned her gaze on him, and he withered. “Darren.” “I said not to call me that,” he muttered. “And anyway, I’m right. Galia came first, and was rescued by Kiyeeng, who was kind and–” He cut off as Sim’s hand came down hard on his head. “Let her tell the story!” Sim hissed. Dare crossed his arms. “She’s telling it wrong.” “I would advise you,” the healer said quietly, “to listen. If you would rather not, I can send you back outside to fend for yourselves.” Dare was quiet after that.

Kiyeeng, the golden moon, ruled the night sky. He reveled in the prayers of mortals. The smoke of their burnt offerings was his wine, their cities his feast. Each night, he passed over the world and smiled. He lived like a god, and even if he was one it was a mistake. He would grow angry and jealous at even the slightest hint of disrespect. When he first saw a temple to the sun, he raged for months. He took control of the seas and sent towering waves against the cities he perceived as rebellious. Sailors perished as hundreds of ships were lost to his fury. In desperation, the mortals built him grand monuments. They vowed to serve him, to never turn away again. They had festivals in the nights so that Kiyeeng could watch them. Finally he was satisfied, and the seas calmed. But he did not see that during the day, the people were begging the fiery sun, Tenyin, for help. And he heard them. So Tenyin set a cunning trap for Kiyeeng. His dear sister Galia ruled the stars. She was quiet and pure. Her light was subtle and healing, and always second to that of Kiyeeng. In fact, the stars could only be seen when Kiyeeng disappeared fully. But Galia didn’t mind. She drew her power from the night. She was the patroness of second sons and forgotten daughters. She was kind and noble; the only thing she truly hated was Kiyeeng.

“This isn’t right!” Dare blurted. “Tenyin is the villain who tries to keep Galia and Kiyeeng apart!” Again, the healer turned her gaze to him. He blushed, but his anger didn’t leave. There was a way of things. People shouldn’t twist stories like this, changing what was right and wrong. “What happened next?” Sim asked impatiently. 

Tenyin asked his dear sister for her help in defeating Kiyeeng, and she agreed. For Galia loved the mortals in a way that the sun and moon could not, and it broke her heart to watch Kiyeeng torment them. Tenyin proposed that Galia woo Kiyeeng. Once the moon was in love, she would convince him to lend her some of his power. And then she would use it for good, and he would be left powerless to harm the mortals she loved. _What Tenyin and Galia did not count on was how well his plan would work. Kiyeeng, for all his power and glory, was desperately lonely. And Galia was dangerously beautiful. _ “What powerful light you have,” Galia said. “I’m not frightened of the darkness with you here.” Kiyeeng smiled and put his arm around her waist. “Would you like to see the land the way I see it?” _Galia agreed, and so it was that they spent the first night together. Despite it all, she was awed. The mortals’ fires seemed to mirror her own stars, and each city was more beautiful than the last. But Galia wasn’t the only one who was dazzled. With each passing moment, Kiyeeng grew more and more in love. _ “You are more beautiful than all the treasures of the earth,” he told her. “I would dim my own light so that yours can be better seen.” _Galia laughed, fluttering her lashes and telling him that she wished she were a moon, so that she could be with him always. He responded that there was a way, but it would weaken him greatly. _ Cunningly, Galia wove her fingers through his. “You’re so powerful,” she breathed. “Even weakened, you’re much stronger than any other god.” _Kiyeeng lost himself in her eyes. She was perfect. “We will rule the night together,” he declared. _ So it was that there came to be two moons. Galia joined him in the sky, smaller and paler but just as bright. They passed each night together, and Kiyeeng grew more and more entranced. He stopped noticing the mortals and began searching for new delights to show Galia. She, in turn, began to care for him. But she never forgot what he’d done, and she never forgave him. _One evening, she asked him about the oceans. If she could try controlling the waves, just for a moment. Hesitantly, Kiyeeng passed control to her. Her delighted giggles were enough for him to name her queen of the waters. The sea was hers. _ _Now that his power over the earth was gone, she went to Tenyin, eager to return to the stars. But Kiyeeng caught her. _ “Where are you going?” He demanded. “To visit my brother,” Galia said sweetly. “Is that so wrong?” “Yes.” Kiyeeng’s temper had slumbered for months, but the idea of losing Galia, even for one night, brought it back tenfold. “He is my enemy, and you must choose to serve him or me.” “Then I choose him. He is good and honorable, and provides the people with heat and safety. You are nothing but a beast, or maybe a child.” Galia turned to go. Her duty was finished, and she was not needlessly cruel. She would leave him, and the mortals would design their own fates. Kiyeeng’s cold laughter stopped her. “You lied to me,” he sneered. Galia turned back. “Yes,” she said simply. _“I still love you.” _ The words took Galia by surprise, and she blinked. She’d seen mortals do it when they were confused, you see. “That He changes nothing.” “Not yet,” Kiyeeng said. “But it will. You see, only a moon can control the tides. If you return to the stars, my power will return to me.” He stepped closer until his golden eyes were only inches from her silver ones. “And when it does, I will destroy every creature that lives on this planet. They will all die, and it will be your fault.” Galia froze, and Kiyeeng grinned darkly. “So. Will you be coming home with me?” Silently, Galia followed him back, turning only once to look towards the dawn. To this day, she passes through the sky with Kiyeeng. But she refuses to walk next to him, which is why she lags so far behind. Every morning, Kiyeeng says two words to her. “Choose me.” And every morning… “No.” He beats her through the day so that every evening she no longer shines pure and silver but deep scarlet. Her blood lights the darkness, and she takes comfort in the knowledge that her pain protects us. And that is how we came to have two moons, the villainous Kiyeeng and the heroine Galia.

Dare spoke first. “So Kiyeeng was the monster all along, huh? It’s one of those, ‘don’t let greed control you’ stories?” Sim shook his head. “No.” He met the healer’s eyes. “It’s forgiveness, isn’t it? If Galia had let Kiyeeng change, had forgiven him and accepted that he could be more than a monster, she would have had a happy ending.” The healer smiled, and her eyes faded to white. “But what if he didn’t change, and the mortals’ suffered because of it?” “But he had changed, hadn’t he?” “I’ll tell you a secret,” the healer said, chuckling as Dare and Sim leaned in. “If a story is true, there are no right choices.”

Just a warning this has graphic mentions of weight and bmi

Kg To Lbs Ft To Cm BMI To Diagnostic criteria’s This is all I Fucking Think About Bodybuilding, cause that’s better than starving But if both are centred around cutting board six pack stomachs Am I really leaving these mistakes behind?

Numbers dictate everything, goals 38 43 will do 45 thank god I’ve scraped that megre figure Protein goals 60 90 140 Divide to bmi 16.4 17.3 18.3 Then 25 28 inches Size 6,8 Check waist

You ask me what I think I’ll be having Protein or calories dictate Diet Coke, cause I need a little sweetness In this bitter life Looking for prompts that I can fit this to Cause how dare I forget my roots Forget to trigger myself back to where I started School scales spell out u n d e r w e I g h t I don’t believe them.

I am so. fucking. tired

I am writing more cheerful stuff I promise 😭 just that stuff is taking a while so yeah your getting my shitty vent poems for now sorry 💀

This twin sized bed seems too small Im suffocating in shrunken sheets My lips find themselves pressed on the wall Muscles remember where your face used to be

I’d forgotten that I am afraid of the dark You held me inside of it for so long Your absence has left a fatal mark In the back of my mind like a ghostly song

I squeeze a pillow against my chest Trying to pretend it is someone who cares But despite the same pressure in my breast The twin size tells me there’s no one there

Although there’s no real way to reach you

If I put it in a poem

Dare I dream you’ll find it one day

Each word’s pieces of my heart I’ve

Named in each beginning letter

I want to be happy for you I do

The ring on your finger And a finger running through her hair While you stare into her eyes It’s great to see you happy But I wish those eyes were mine

The only arms I ever felt truly safe in Keep someone else warm tonight Your smell wore off my clothes years ago But now and then I catch a whiff In a corner shop And stop Because I’ve forgotten how to breathe

I wonder what she thinks of your stories That voice that never made me bored I would have spent an eternity On cold metal bleachers Drinking in your words As long as you would let me You knew me poetically __ In a way I thirst after To feel again

I am tender creature But with you I become ravenous All I desire is to taste your lips Your body The moving pieces of your soul How I would devour them If I had not abandoned my chance My tongue feels dry At the thought

I could have fought harder I often think Would you have fought as well? For the fire that engulfed all feeling The one who would never leave my mind Try as I might You have a place cemented there That now feels like an abandoned shrine To a bittersweet love

I want to be happy for you I do But while my world collapses You spin her in the breeze I kick myself everyday That I didn’t fight To make that me

(These are the same characters from ‘Old “friends”’ but there’s a pretty long time skip so you don’t need to see the first to understand this one.)

Rayla paces back and forth, a headache beginning to creep in. She’s smarter than this, she won’t start crying over the first obstacle that comes her way.

She doesn’t want to think about the before. Before she killed him. Before she hated herself every day. Before she forced the group to choose sides. Her or Darkwatcher. Her or Darkwatcher. Her or Darkwatcher.

_We had something good, didn’t we? _

It doesn’t matter now! She has been pulling the strings behind the current government for quite some time now, and right as she was about to reveal it was her, Darkwatcher came back!

Maybe it’s not Darkwatcher. Maybe its some other girl who has that eccentrically dyed hair.

Byx is sprawled across a couch, a look of worry and maybe even hope in her eyes. Who’s side is that girl on?

Benjo is sitting on the only uncomfortable chair in the room, for some reason. Good posture or whatever.

“It’s not her. She and Rowan retired, basically. They should have normal jobs now, or be far away from civilization.” Rayla hate that her voice shakes, she immediately forces her feelings down. “It’s not.” She says, more confidently.

Byx pulls out her phone and is doing… something on it. Isn’t there more important things she could be doing right now?

She sighs and finally looks up. “It’s her alright.” She shows Rayla her phone, reports of the masked revolutionary everywhere. That’s what Darkwatcher is calling herself now. ‘The masked revolutionary’. What’s she trying to do? Avenge Gray, or herself? Maybe this isn’t about me, maybe she doesn’t even know I’m behind the scenes.

She’s smarter than that. I think. Maybe she’s not, or maybe she just doesn’t care. Maybe she wants to overthrow the government, not noticing nor minding whether I’m a part of it.

Rayla can tell Byx wants to tell her something. She opens her mouth, then closes it again.

“Spit it out.” She grinds through gritted teeth.

She doesn’t mean to be hostile. Does Byx know that? Would she join Darkwatcher if given the chance again?

Byx glares at Rayla anyhow. “Is it such a bad thing she’s back? At least you know she’s alive.” She is amused at Byx’s ignorance.

She smiles. “Do you think I care about her anymore? Do you think I’ve wasted more than a minute thinking about her these past years? Do you think I cry everyday wondering if she’s alive? No. I don’t.”

Byx raises her eyebrows, but luckily stays quiet.

Rayla knows she shouldn’t have done it all back then. She knows it was a mistake. She knows that everyone will always blame her for it. As much as she hates Darkwatcher, she blames herself completely too.

She shoves the thoughts away. Back then all she could think of was making a bloody hole in Darkwatcher’s head. She needs to bring back that mindset.

Benjo is still silent, looking anywhere but me and Byx.

Finally he clears his throat, quietly. He became much quieter since Gray died. “Do you think Rowen is with her?”

Rayla snorts. “Ha. No. That coward is probably crying in his hidey-hole.” Byx slams her phone on the table and even Benjo looks pissed. She rolls her eyes. They seem to care a whole lot about the enemy.

_I don’t anymore. _

She repeats this to herself over and over again.

“Don’t talk like that about Rowen.” Benjo says quietly, dangerously.

Rayla groans. “He is nobody to us anymore.”

“Maybe to you.” Byx snaps.

Rayla can feel her anger growing sharper. Then it snaps, and she just sinks into a chair, feeling exhausted. “Whatever I guess. It doesn’t matter anymore. After what happened with Grayson he wouldn’t become a villain. Especially not with Darkwatcher.”

The fireplace crackles, the air inside feels stale.

She hates everyone and everything. Rayla doesn’t know what to do, she doesn’t even have a plan for the first time in a while.

Rayla is so close to everything she ever wanted, money, power, but fame most of all. She knows she would’ve gotten it sooner had she not challenged Darkwatcher to duel. She forces herself to think that that is the only reason she could feel even a shred of regret.

Byx picks up her phone again and finally Benjo stands up with a glimmer in his eyes. “I think we all just need some fresh air. Wanna do crime?” Byx sits up straight looking excited.

Rayla wants to so much, she needs things to feel like the way they used to. But alas, she’s smarter than that. “You know we can’t anymore, right?” Benjo eyes fall and he collapses onto the couch.

Byx’s posture settles back into its normal position, that is to say, hunched over.

“Just a little longer.” She assures them.

Then the world will be ours.

I watch your lips move But ignore what they say In my mind you are telling A joke And you wonder why I laugh a little When you tell me You are leaving

{Age of Love: A short story} (AOL is a original piece by me and you can find it on my profile)

"Do you regret it?" I had never even thought about that, I mean, why would I? "No. But do you?" I retaliated. I knew what the response should be, but I have trust in him. There I sat in front of Roman on my house’s deck, the palm leaf fan was moving slowly and the sounds of the ocean filled the silence left between me and him. He sat, staring down at the light wood planks that made up the flooring in here. "I do."

Two years ago Rome and I started daring after our small rendezvous on my 18th birthday. It was strange, I never would’ve thought he’d be my first love. Yet, there he was. Roman and I hated each other. He’d bully and tease me, he hated my guts which made everything he’d do worse, he made my life hell while also being my brother’s best friend. He is an asshole with a sour attitude, I fucking hated him. However, he was there. Technically… I initiated it, so this is my fault, but he never stopped me. I became committed to him, we went on secret dates, had stupid conversations, we started laughing together, and somehow he’d always end up in my room after hours. I truly was infatuated with him, and.. I figured he was as well. Now 2 years have passed and what? Is he done with me? Sick of me? Or was it just all in my head to begin with?

"I’m sorry blondie, this was never going to work." He said solemnly, I just sat stunned. I figured he was committed to me as well- that’s what he told me. "We made it work for two years, Rome." I spoke out, at this point it was my mind on autopilot, I didn’t want to say anything I mean, he should leave if he wants too. "Two hard years of you lying and me lying. I mean hell, shit was hell, dude." He made me pissed off. Usually I wouldn’t take this from him, but when you’re enemies but then lovers, you can’t. "Goodbye Roman." I said before I left him on my deck. I wasn’t trying to fight. He wants it done?

Then so do I.

{This is not apart of the actual AOL storyline <3}

It was my first time on my own. For years, I dreamt of the day that I would leave the torments of the devilish man that I called “father.” I no longer would withstand the fear of waking up in the middle of the night with the tall dark figure that reeked of stale newports and homemade moonshine standing over me, forcing his way into my bed. No longer would I have to tune out the shrill shrieks and horrific thuds coming from my mother’s room almost every night. Except for that last night. The night that the loud BANG rang in my ears for what seemed like hours. I don’t remember much after the sound. Somehow my body had a mind of its own and was frantically packing all of my belongings into my pink worn out duffel bag that I had since sixth grade. I was out of my window, heading towards the woods behind the house before I finally realized what had happened. I realized that I was free,… or at least I thought. Within the two years of walking into those woods I’ve managed to make my way out of the dying small town in south Alabama into the more thriving city of Atlanta, Georgia. Truckers did not mind picking up a seventeen year old girl on the side of the road if that meant getting lucky with good company and an even more pleasurable pit stop. At each stop, I would pretend to run to the ladies room to freshen up before running out of the back exit and down the street to hitch my next ride. I almost did not get away easy from my last Uber trucker. He was intent on following me into the restroom, so I had the cashier call the police to save me from “my stalker.” Before the police could arrive, I hid in the manager’s office and climbed through the window into an open field and ran until I couldn’t run anymore. Exhausted and shaking from the lack of nutrition, I walked into a Dina’s Diner, hoping to bum another meal. Dina’s Diner turned out to be an answered prayer. As soon as I slid into the faded red booth, a middle aged heavyset blonde lady carrying a pitcher of lukewarm coffee introduced herself to me as Samantha. She offered me coffee and said that if I wanted to order food, it would be a thirty minute wait because two of her cooks walked out mid-shift the day before. “I can cook,” I whispered without thinking things through. Samantha paused to study my expression and said with a straight face, “you know how to scrambled eggs?” I shook my head up and down not sure if I would be able to handle cooking anything more than scrambled eggs since my mother did all of the cooking back home. “Alright,” Samantha said without hesitation. “Follow me.” On my nineteenth birthday, a couple of friends and I left Dina’s Diner around ten that night to go party with a group of college boys. My friends and I became close while working at the diner. We all had similar backgrounds and knew that college would never be an option for us. When the boys came into the diner that day and invited us to their party, we were so shocked to have even caught their attention. There was no better way to celebrate another year of my freedom. We could not wait to gather at Jill’s house to exchange each other’s clothes for the best outfits. The party was the typical college scene. Girls half dressed pranced and giggled around the large room in the frat house while the guys gawked and patted each other on the backs. The room was filled with the smell of beer, sweat, and weed smoke. Jill, Francine, and I took no time getting obliterated, throwing back cup after cup of beer and sometimes vodka-crans. It was the first time that I finally felt normal. I was on my own. I was dancing, and drinking with people my own age! Life was finally looking better for me. As the room swirled in circles I thought to myself, “I would make a new life for myself.” I laughed and stumbled my way towards the bathroom to break the seal. I concentrated on focusing my eyes when suddenly a familiar face appeared in the crowd. I jumped back! Startled, I tried harder to make the room stop spinning to focus on the older man sitting in the corner admiring all of the girls dancing. I let a silent gasp as my vodka-cran hit the floor. Eyes wide, I turned away hoping that the man in the corner did not see me. His face, with a long irregularly shaped scar on his right cheek, burned into my head. This could not be happening. Was it really him? He still had the low cut brown hair that had started to recede maybe four years ago. The dark blue denim jacket did have a hole on the left arm sleeve where he put out a cigarette while trying to impress some ladies outside of the supermarket one time. I took another quick glance in the man’s direction for confirmation. Fear ran down my spine as I locked eyes with my father. I watched the realization spread across my father’s face as he jumped up from his seat in the corner. I turned to push my way through the crowd as he started for me. Now I remember why I never drunk more than two cups of alcohol. My chest began to burn as the poisonous beverages threatened to come back through my mouth. I lunged for the door and threw myself into the bushes, giving up everything that I had to drink and eat during the day. Ignoring the laughters and stares, I wiped my mouth on my sleeve and headed towards the parking lot, desperate to get out of sight to call an Uber. I hid in between two pickup trucks and glanced over my shoulder to be sure I wasn’t being followed. There were only a few people in the parking lot a few cars down but no one could see me in the shadows of the night. In disbelief, I crouched down and began to cry, forcing myself to see clearly through the tears and drunk eyes to unlock my phone. How did he find me? Why would he be at a college party all the way in Atlanta?! For a second I thought maybe my drink was spiked and I was having a bad trip, but then I heard his voice. “So this is where you’ve been hiding?” He stepped around the truck and in the moonlight I could see his hand rub over the scar on his right cheek. He let out a chuckle. “Here I am, on a vacation with my new girlfriend… she’s about your age. You should meet her sometime. Then I have the pleasure of bumping into you,” my father said with that creepy grin he always wore when he was in one of his violent moods. I inched away slowly, looking for an escape but realized that I was trapped between the two trucks and the 8 foot brick wall behind me that separated the frat house from the main campus. My father continued, “You know, when you shot me in the face I thought I was a goner!” He let out a devious laugh and made a few steps towards me. “Your mom finally worked up the courage to runaway too after she told the police that I was drunk and did this to myself while cleaning my gun.” He put his hand on his hips. “And can you believe that them son-of-a-guns believed her too! Said you were considered an adult so ain’t no use of looking for a runaway seventeen year old girl.”
Finally getting the wind to speak I yelled for help. “HEEEEELP,” I screamed in familiar terror. He lunged at me, grabbed me into a tight hug and slapped his heavy hand across my mouth. “No no no, girl! SHUT UP!” He shouted into my ear. “No one can hear you over that loud music anyway.” I trembled as I stared my father right into his soulless eyes. “Let me go!” I tried to yell and kicked him in his left shin. He winced in pain and threw me onto the hard pavement bumping my head on one of the pickup trucks. “All I wanted to do was talk, but you always were a fighter,” he said in a rage. He climbed on top of me and began to choke me with his massive hands. “You should have killed me when you had the chance little girl!” His grip became tighter and tighter as I felt myself slipping away. I was so tired and weak. My mind was telling me to just let go. Just give into this monster that made my life living hell. That’s when I spotted it. A heavy rock the size of a baby watermelon with jagged edges rested against the brick wall. I reached for it, willing myself to fight a little hard. I grabbed the heavy rock and swung it against my fathers head. I gasped for air as his grip released and my father tumbled over clutching his forehead, screaming in agony. “Owww, You bitch,” he screamed. Catching my breath, I grabbed the rock again and stood over his hunched body. “Hey Father,” I said with such content. “The only thing I regret in life is not killing you when I had the chance.” I raised the rock high above my head and smashed it down over his left temple. Again, and again, and again, until blue and red lights danced in the shadows behind me.