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never once looked inward For years I told myself I was better than the things I did. Better than the nights I didn’t remember. Better than the names I never learned. Better than the girl crying in the rearview mirror, mascara running down her face. I told myself it didn't matter. I told myself I was just trying to feel something. Anything. I talked a lot about damage. About how I’d been broken, left, used. And I was. I had been. But I did some breaking too. I hurt people who were kind to me. Used them the way I felt used. Cheated on the ones who tried. Lied for no reason except t

Dylan gave a smile through their cut lip, "Hey, you were protecting Robin. I helped." Feeling oddly confident - maybe it was Robin being here, looking the way she did and helping them up - Dylan brushed a wrinkle out of Selene's robe, "If it weren't for you I'd have never known what those three were up to." They eased an arm around Robin's shoulder, as much for the sake of touching her as steadying themself, and started door. The Hollow saw Derek leering from across the dancefloor and the bit of confidence wavered. Dylan started to pull their arm away from her but stopped. Instead they urged Robin the other way. They desperatel

Been married to my high-school sweet heart since we were both 18. I love my husband to pieces.

I consider myself to be in a unicorn relationship. She's intelligent, creative, free-associative in a way I can only dream of. Strong and driven and capable, happy to skin and butcher and game and garden and craft and make the best of life with me. We've been married almost a decade. She is obsessed with me, loves my body, craves my cum. About 3 days a month. The rest of the time she is my broody classic goth lizard creature/goblin and I am occasionally gratified by using her to get off in some fashion (when it's not too inconvenient). We have kids, we both actively raise them, I work, she renovates the home and runs a studio. She's

Maybe I am overthinking. I just have to remember that she is the embodiment of the deathly hallows. She is a/the daughter of Death. Who IS death though...? dun dun duuun. But yeah. She probably has multiple titles aka demon, monster, abomination, heretic, enemy. Umi not detecting her "as a demon" can just really be interpreted as "Not a demon like Hellhound or Zorn" or the likes. I know I just feel a bit insecure but I like what I've done with her so far. It's good to know that you're fine with her. I'm really enjoying her myself. With the way she is perceived by all other characters, though, I don't think "demon" fits quite right but ev

She isn’t like the standard demons like Zorn. Probably distinct from those with more of a shade of grey like Exzel as well. But it is a rather open setting, I like what has been done with her so far. The distinction between demons and other monsters admittedly has been rather vague. I had not thought a lot about the definitions, giving people ba lot of freedom to work with. Perhaps being from another dimension or dimensions of sorts being part (though we aliens as another distinct group, so not exactly other planets), while maybe ‘monsters’ are native to the world. I do think being a goddess of sorts fits the setting, the only dange

I have too many stories that start like that.

Name: Momoka Hanabi Alias: Fluffy Bunny Age: 18 Sex: Female Orientation: Bisexual, leaning more towards females Race: Human Hair: Pink Eyes: Blue Short Bio: In Momoka's lineage, all magical girls are taught to be one thing above all else: gracious. Their powers are the stuff from fairy tales, and their magical garments are often more endearing than imposing - so, rather than pursuing optimal combat prowess, they make this apparent fragility into their strength. This is why Momoka seems so proper most of time - she is often calm and composed, her manners are perfect and she is incredibly polite. Maybe a bit too polite, to th

In My Bed The curtains are dead, Cold ghostlight of blue morning burning through. I may have died too. Someone is in my bed I know it. I know it, But I can't touch them. Bed sheets crinkle and crack like frost Under my fingertips, weak as they are. I'm not breathing, Not enough to consider myself alive, Just enough to pray and wonder. There was starlight in that bottle. It must have spilled in the night. It's just glass now--just a mess now. It's returning to reality, like me. A woman frozen in night-mare, Sleeping Ariadne Exiled on a queen-sized island, One nostril weakly siphoning Air between matt