Oversensitive… and not in the sexual way

So as always I Morr fuck things up. I swear I have a natural aversion to goods things in my life. It’s like when good things come my way I avoid them like the plague but when bad things come I’m attracted to it like a magnet.

The newest Morrfuckup is that I met this guy (and don’t groan and be like oh one of those stories. STFU and listen) and it turns out that we have a lot in common. Mind you I’ve recently discovered that since I like a lot of things that I have a lot in common with a lot of guys. It’s really easy to find things that you have in common if you have a lot to be in common about, but it’s oddly different. I’m talking right down to the enjoying Hentai and porn here people. But anyways, I digress. So I fucked things up last night and really it is my fault and I know it is. I get overly sensitive especially when I don’t fully understand the gravity of what I’m not supposed to be let in on and it hurts, I’ll add a needless to say that I wasn’t in the best of moods because it was in fact the Anniversary of my brother David’s Death and it always hits me like a ton of bricks when I’m thinking it isn’t coming for me.

ANYWAYS! I got upset for no reason but it was a reason because I didn’t understand and I know that’s part of me but then when I tried to cheer him up he snapped at me and that just hurt my feelings and I’ve been hurt ever since.

Now afterward, this is one thing that we work on different wavelengths on and it’s difficult for me because part of it goes over my head and the other part of it just hits a brick wall and it totally throws me for a loop but he has no mannerisms. Or let me correct and say he has few mannerisms and it makes it hard to read. Now he tells me to just ask but I don’t like to ask. I feel pesteringy when I ask because I feel like that’s all I’m doing but he tells me to do it anyways and the other thing is that I have never been able to take things at face value. Ever. People don’t talk like that. There is always underlying innuendo or something that I’m missing and even with what happened there was because I just didn’t know the difference between upset and freaking out. It’s a big difference and it makes it difficult to know what to do if I don’t know what that difference is. Another difference is when I’m upset, no matter how I’m upset (sometimes even when I tell you to get the fuck away) I want to be cheered up or pushed back on. I like to know I’m wanted and I know he wants me but instead of getting push back I pretty much just fell over.

Zayzie did cheer me up a bit but then I fell right back down the pit when I talked to him today.

So I said mean things that I did and didn’t mean. At least I think so. I’ve been hurt and I’m sad and all cry-ey which is really odd. I only say that because of all of the boys I’ve been with I didn’t cry for too long afterwards or regret it really either. I mean I sometimes wish there were ways to fix it but looking back I’m better off without and I really regret the things I said.

He’s mad at me and I understand. I broke up with him because I was upset.

I’m a Morron.

I feel bad and I love him but I don’t know if it’s fixable. I hate when I can’t fix it.

Another thing is he doesn’t like when I apologize but I apologize a lot. It’s just something I do. Whether it’s because I’m a submissive or I’m genuine or I feel that it’s the way to get everyone happy again. I like when people are happy. I like to be happy so I apologize and he hates it and he snaps at me about that too. I don’t know what to do to fix it as I can’t wipe it away but C’est La Vie.

As always. I fuck everything up.

I am a horrible person. And we weren’t even testing for that.

#Morrfail

Debating my writing

So I actually got to writing the next chapter in my Dexter Fanfiction and I’ve come to an impasse. I ddon’t like the new direction that the previous chapter took me. Either I’m not liking how this chapter is coming out or I need something creative to point my character into a direction.

Now, lets be honest, it’s a fanfiction so I can have a bit of fun with it and I wanted a little bit of monster love in it so I could pivot my direction away from pure hate to pure lust and I don’t think I’d have a problem but my question is, do you think that would deter my normal reader. I honestly don’t know if it will or won’t. Every one of the people that have read it like it so far and I have already added the element in there.

So to romanticize or to not romanticize…. that is the question of a woman needing some romancing.

I think the answer is obvious but if you want to put forth your input read the story.

Current continuation chapter probably being sacked…. feel lucky I am sharing my unfinished work as I normally don’t.

Elizabeth ran a hand through her reddened hair. She didn’t like it but it was a precautionary measure, just like the colored contacts, the henna tattoo’s and the mass amounts of makeup. She turned herself into a goth because he knew what she looked like. It required a look drastically different enough that he wouldn’t recognize her.

The traits of a good monster was the ability to adapt.Elizabeth adapted well.When Dexter saw her he looked again and by then she was gone. She hoped he thought he was seeing a ghost.

Elizabeth had been stalking him for three weeks… maybe four? She was beginning to lose track. Without her steady routine one day ran into the next and then the next and it all seemed like one big exhausting blur of Dexter’s grinning face. It kept her up at night because when she slept she dreamt. The dreams growing more vivid, like he was attacking her through her dreams. They were no longer surreal dreams but more of lucid nightmares of being gutted one organ at a time.

She was in a living nightmare.
That was why tonight was the night.
There was no more waiting.
No more worrying.
No more dreaming.

If she got rid of Dexter then Elizabeth got rid of the nagging prophesy.She’d be able to fall back into her normal routine again.

Life would be better without Dexter.
At least her life would be better without Dexter.
Elizabeth tilted her head toward the floor with a final glance toward her adversary before she rounded the corner to prepare for the night.

She required strength.
She required willpower.
She required sleep.

Liz/Dexter Fic Part 9: Broken Mirror

Elizabeth teetered as she looked up at Dexter. She was trying to read what he was going to say before he said it. She hadn’t exactly told him something that you could process in seconds, like “I’m pregnant.” No, this little tidbit of information was more along the lines of “Daddy, I’m gay.” Although that didn’t nearly have the consequences of what she had just told him.

“Dexter?”

It took a moment but his name seemed to bring him down to earth and he stared at her for a moment before he made his move. It was not one she had anticipated although she probably should have.

Or maybe not.

He crushed her against the door, lifting her, as he did in her dream, with his knee between her legs and held her there with his forearm. Breathing. Staring.

Was he trying to gauge her sincerity? Her threat level?

“What makes you think that I’m anything like you?” he growled at her.

She couldn’t sit here and let him crush her, she didn’t have the strength to fight back but she didn’t have the willpower to quell the raging beast within her any longer.

Elizabeth did what the monster asked of her, succumbing to it’s rage, it’s itch.

First was the knee to the groin, he didn’t have time to shift to avoid the impact with one of his knees supporting her. He dropped her and moved back, his body bent in half from the pain.

She quickly put her hands up and punched him, his head tilting back and breaking the mirror. She quickly wrapped her hand around the back of his neck bringing his face into her knee. He was conscious again bringing his hand between his face and her knee, softening the impact for him.

Dexter put his shoulder into her gut and pushed her backwards breaking the glass of his shower box but having her against a wall. Elizabeth cried out, the pain coursing through her body as she felt her insides churn. She brought her elbows down on the back of his neck. Once. Twice. Three times before he took a step back and took a swing at her. She ducked almost fast enough, he caught her hair against the tile. She moved a foot and stepped on a piece of glass, then another, the pieces slicing into her feet. He quickly latched his fingers into her hair and pulled her around to hit her head into the wall.

Elizabeth’s ears began to ring as he did a second and third time. One or two more times and she’d be dead. The Monster cried mercy, she cried out stop but it was barely more then a whimper. She had to get his attention by either getting the upper hand or… well death was the other option.

Elizabeth, barely able to think put her palms against the wall and pushed. She gave herself enough room to push off the wall with her feet toppling the surprised Dexter onto the ground beneath her. She scrambled to straddle him, her hands wrapping around his neck. She lifted his head and gave him the same punishment he had just given her. One. Two. Three. She pounded his head onto the tile surface of the bathroom floor, then she stopped, her fingers still wrapped idly around his neck. No pressure although she could attempt to strangle him, it probably wouldn’t be effective and she’d probably just make him pass out.

Dexter grunted and toppled her weight with a move of his hips and he was easily atop of her with his hands on her neck.

Elizabeth looked up at him. He down to her. They were a broken mirror staring back at one another. Not exactly an identical copy but alike just the same. They both had blood on their hands.

“I don’t want to kill you Dexter,” she croaked, barely audible.

“That’s not what it seemed like when you hit my head head against the ground,” he growled at her.

“Payback for the forehead,” he smirked at the thought. Only they would have thought that amusing.

“I don’t want to kill you either.”

“Then why don’t you get off of me and lets go talk.”

It took a few more minutes of staring before either of them let up enough to let the other one relax. When their fingers slowly uncurled from each others necks they helped one another up.

Elizabeth took in a sharp breath as she came to her feet. “I can’t seem to stop spilling my own blood it seems,” she said sarcastically, leaning her weight on the unsteady Dexter.

“Sorry about that.”

“It’s alright,” she said to him as she limped into the bedroom with him. She plopped onto the bed as he sat down next to him.

“Let me see your feet.”

Elizabeth twisted, pulling her feet onto his lap so that he could inspect them. He pulled at her toes but he didn’t touch the wounds. It was nice to see someone else that knew how to take care of a cut like she did. She closed her eyes. “I’m sorry about that. I couldn’t help myself.”

She heard his breath but couldn’t tell if it was amused or disbelieving. “Seriously, how could you tell that I was like you?” he asked again placing her feet onto his lap.

“I don’t know,” she said giving a shrug. “It’s like recognizing another predator. Your hair stands on end, you can see their teeth and you the glint in their eyes and then its gone. You didn’t see it in me?”

“You’re obviously better at hiding it.”

Elizabeth opened her eyes and looked at him. “Really? I was going to tell you the same thing. Maybe I just saw it first. I had just sated my need a few nights before. The darkness was sated. Now I can’t even keep myself from attacking the nicest man I know,” she said with a sigh.

“You were just protecting yourself. I would have done the same thing.”

“I guess… I think it’s more then that though.”

“Like what?”

“I haven’t had a victim in about a month and my blood itches for it.”

“Well then why don’t you?”

“I can’t,” she watched as his face furrowed in confusion. “I’m worried right now that our little excursion in there didn’t already pull a few stitches out let alone dragging a dead body around and those are minimum requirements,” she finished, looking to the ground beside the bed.

Dexter grunted an acknowledgment.

Silence fell upon the pair. She had a feeling that he knew, without words, what she wanted. It was more then a want, she was sure he understood that but it was a boundary that neither of them had crossed before. Trusting another person with a secret as sensitive as this.

“Dexter?”

A phone rang and he shoved his hand in his pocket. He looked at it. “It’s work,” he said pointing at it. “Morgan. Alright, I’ll be right there.”

“Talk about this later then?”

“We’ll have to. Dead body found out in the Southern Glades about.”

“Ten miles north of Ingraham Highway,” she said with him her fists clenching into the palms of her hands.

“Yeah, how’d you know?”

Elizabeth released a breath of forced amusement. “That’s my killing ground.”

Dexter stared at her for a moment before gently removing her feet from his lap.

“Stay here, I’ll be back in a few hours and we can talk. I’ll let you know what I find.”

“Hopefully not more bodies,” she said standing up on her hurt feet, a shard of glass still within digging deeply into her cut. “Dexter,” she looked up to him, “thank you,” she told him, standing on her toes, wrapping a hand around his neck and pulling him down into another of those messy kisses which he returned in kind.

“I’ll be back,” he informed her.

“Dexter?”

He turned to her a second time.

“Don’t forget to clean up before you go,” he looked down at his bloodied hands and breathed in amusement.

“Thanks,” he disappeared out of the door and he was gone. This was not good for her. What had she forgotten? How did someone find a body out there? What evidence did she leave in her graveyard? She was going to jail wasn’t she?