#about these AWFUL LITTLE DOOMED TEENAGERS

[pencilmint]

Sunset in Shinjuku

[javierpena-inatacvest]

Chapter 7- For The First Time

Summary: Eight days ago, you kissed Frankie Morales for the first time. Eight days later, you want to do more than just kiss him.

Word count: 8.6K

Pairing: Frankie Morales x f!reader (reader has a name/nickname, no use of y/n)

Warnings: SMUT (18+) protected p in v sex, loss of virginity/first sexual experience for Frankie and Reader (some brief mentions of momentary discomfort bc of it) oral (f receiving- building the lore for Pussy Eating King Francisco Morales brick by brick), vaginal fingering, Frankie's got a big dick (it's also part of the lore, don't @ me) sweet and awkward teenage love, Frankie being everything and more, lots and lots and lots of consent, a four letter word that starts with an L, please don't yell at me, they're both 18 at this point in the story!!!

A/N: Soooooo all of a sudden I blinked a this was 8K plus words WHOOPS 🤠 I ain't gonna lie with y'all, this may be one of my favorite things I've ever written and have cried the whole way through it 😭 My plan was to have Frankie picking up MacKenzie from work in this chapter too, but obviously things got away from me very quickly, so that will be next chapter's problem!! Your kind words about this story mean so much to me, I really hope you guys enjoy this chapter as much as I've enjoyed writing it!!! 🥺💕

All The Things We Never Said Masterlist

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You, Summer of 2007, Age 18 

123 days. 

That night Frankie told you he had made up his mind to join the Army after he finished with high school, you counted out every square on your calendar from April 15th to August 16th. You had 123 days left together before you left for college and Frankie left for boot camp. 

But April 15th was 2 months ago. 67 days ago, to be exact. Each day you crossed off your calendar filled you with a little more dread than the last. You tried not to think about the dwindling number, or the impending doom of August hanging behind July and June on the wall above your desk, but it was hard to not let the thought constantly nag in the back of your mind that the carefree summer days of spending practically every waking minute with Frankie were coming to an end. 

The only thing that seemed to put you at ease was just that- after the hurt and sadness of Frankie’s departure had subsided enough, you had promised each other that the last bit of time you had together, you’d do everything in your power to make the most of it. 

If there was anything you knew the other was good for, it was keeping a promise. 

There was no denying that the past 67 days spent with Frankie had been nothing short of magical. It seemed like for once in your life, everything was falling into place exactly how you wanted it to. 

Your soccer team had won the state championship, Frankie being the first to rush onto the field to congratulate you on your victory after cheering for you at the top of his lungs the whole game. The stress of school seemed to become irrelevant, your teachers easing up as you came to the close of your Senior year, you and Frankie’s after school hangouts now focused less on homework and more on goofing around. Graduation had come and gone, you and Frankie both walking across the stage of your high school gym, diplomas in hand, teasing the other relentlessly about how awful the other looked in the stupid, tasseled caps they had forced you to wear. 

Then, there was prom.

It had been no question that you and Frankie were going to prom together- it was an unspoken, standing agreement that the both of you had since the start of your senior year. For as much as homecomings or school dances had never been your (or Frankie’s) preferred way to spend a Saturday night, there was an undeniable excitement you had about it you couldn’t really quite describe. You kept chalking it up to the fact it was the biggest night of your senior year, or that all your best friends were gathering together to have an incredible party filled with dancing and fun. 

But neither of those things could account for the butterflies in your stomach when Frankie showed up at your front door, tuxedo on and flowers in hand, watching his jaw drop and heart stop when he laid eyes on you. 

“You look beautiful, MacKenzie.” 

From that moment on, those 4 words hadn’t stopped ringing in your ears. 

They rang in your ears as he held your hand the entire night, refusing to unlock his fingers from yours. 

They rang in your ears as you felt him grab your waist while you danced. 

They rang in your ears as he lovinging teased you about your drunken hiccups off sips of stolen beer cans in Santi’s basement where the party had traveled to long after prom had finished. 

They rang in your ears in the middle of your moonlit street as Frankie walked you home, making it no less than ten steps past Santi’s porch before he froze, staring at you like a trembling deer in headlights.

“What’s wrong, weirdo?” 

“There’s something I wanna do. I’m terrified you’ll hate me forever if I do it, but I’ve wanted to for so long and I don’t think I can wait anymore.” 

“Frankie, what are you-” 

“Can I kiss you, MacKenzie? Fuck, I wanna kiss you so bad.” 

“F-Frankie, I-” 

“Fuck. Fuck, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything. Just forget that I-” 

“I was scared you would never ask.” 

It wasn’t until then you realized just how badly you wanted to kiss Frankie Morales. 

Now, you’re absolutely sure that you never want to stop kissing him. 

There’s something about the warmed, welcomed June air that makes you want to throw every caution you’ve ever had to the wind, finally understanding what all of those books and movies had meant about falling victim to a summer fling.

Ever since that night at prom, Frankie Morales was the only thing in the world that mattered. It had only been eight days since his lips had met yours under the midnight moon, but every day since, neither of you had passed up a chance to sneak away for stolen kisses and bodies tangled in messy dances of limbs, finding any excuse to spend a moment alone together. 

Maybe your pink cheeks and goofy grins were enough to let the world know how hard you had fallen for your best friend- even if they weren’t, you wouldn’t care. Right now, consequences don't exist. 

Right now, the only thing that does is you, Frankie, and a four letter word that lingers in the back of your mind. 

They especially don’t exist when you’re wide awake at one in the morning for the third night in a row, unable to sleep as butterflies rumble in your stomach and fly up to your chest after another day spent with the boy four doors down. 

You toss and turn under your sheets, unable to stand staring hopelessly at your ceiling another minute. You reach across your bed, plucking your phone off your nightstand, finding Frankie’s name in your messages. 

You: 

Hey, are you still up? I can’t sleep 

It’s barely ten seconds before his contact is lighting up your screen, making your heartbeat just a little faster.

Frankie :) <3

Im up 2. I cant sleep either 

Cant stop thinking about u 

You: 

Me either, even though we literally spent all day together haha 

You smile at your screen as you wait for Frankie’s response, fingers anxiously tapping on your keyboard until your phone lights up again. 

Frankie :) <3

Do u wanna come over? 

I wanna see u 

Your face scrunches in confusion, sitting up in your bed to peer out your window, like Frankie would be able to see your puzzled expression from down the street as you type back. 

You: 

I mean, yeah, but it’s 1 AM Frankie??? What about your mom? 

Frankie :) <3 

Shes working overnight at the hospital 

She wont be back until like 9 tomorrow 

Its just me 

You’re unsure of how to describe the feeling that’s beginning to brew in your stomach as you read his last three texts. A strange mix of excitement and anticipation washes through you at the idea of letting yourself indulge in the teenage rebellion of sneaking out of your house in the middle of the night. An even stranger mix of nerves and something else you can’t quite explain floods your veins at the idea of sneaking out of your house to find Frankie, alone in his bedroom. 

The feeling you quite can’t explain churns faster in your gut and travels down your lower half when you realize if you’re alone with Frankie in his bedroom, you want to do more than just kiss him. 

You: 

Are you sure?? 

Frankie :) <3

Promise 

I really wanna see u Kenz 

At this point, the strange feeling that’s seeped through every inch of your body must have made it to your brain, because you’re convinced it’s the reason you don’t know how to breathe anymore. 

You: 

Okay 

I’ll be over in 10 :) 

Frankie :) <3 

Ok :) 

Come in thru the back door  

Txt me when ur there and ill let u in 

You’ve never been up and out of your bed so quickly, fumbling with your comforter and pillows just enough to resemble something close to a body under your sheets if god forbid either one of your parents wakes up and decides to check on you for the first time since you were a toddler. 

Your breath trembles, inhaling and exhaling in long and deep rises of your chest, carefully tiptoeing across your bedroom floor. You’d give anything to be in something cuter than your pajamas, but opening your closet seems like too risky of a move in your plot to escape. 

You grab Frankie’s sweatshirt hanging over your desk chair, quietly shuffling it over your head before attempting to use the moonlight spilling in through your window as enough illumination to comb your fingers through your messy hair and wrangle it into a quick braid. It’s hard to tell from the half lit reflection staring back at you in the mirror, but you pray the once over you give yourself is enough to keep you from looking like a complete mess when you show up at Frankie’s door. 

The adrenaline of it all seems to kick your nerves to the curb as you stuff your phone in Frankie’s sweatshirt pocket before your fingers gently wrap around the curve of your doorknob. As soon as you open the door, you’re well aware of the ramifications that could await you on the other side. 

You’re also well aware that consequences are temporary, and no amount of fear of future punishment is keeping you from making it to Frankie’s bedroom tonight. 

It’s a James Bond worthy performance, the way you sneak down your staircase, avoiding every crack and creak with expertise, stealthily sliding past your parents bedroom and across the family room until you’ve crept through your kitchen to find your back patio.

You flinch with every squeal of the sliding glass door as you nudge it open, just enough to squeeze your body through. You grimace your face in fear as you pause, back to the bricks of your house, waiting for someone to catch you in the act. 

A few moments pass and the silence of your home stays stagnant, giving you the all clear to bolt across your backyard, dashing through your neighbors lawns until you find yourself at Frankie’s, hands shaking as your fingers punch at your keyboard. 

You: 

I’m here! Let me in!  

As your thumb presses send, your adrenaline has waived just enough to let the anxious tension take hold of your body, palms sweating and heart racing so fast it just may beat out of your chest. Your teeth gnaw at your fingernails, waiting for his response to text you that he’ll be right there, or he’s about to let you in, but this is Frankie- It should be no surprise when he opens the back door immediately. There’s not a chance in hell he hasn’t been waiting for you down here since the moment you texted him you were coming. 

“Hi.” You whisper, biting down your lip to contain the smile that’s spread across your face as he’s opened the door. 

“Hi.” He whispers back, tongue darting between his lips as his eyes wander up and down your frame before locking with yours. 

His palm grazes your cheek, cradling your jaw as he steps into you, chest to chest while your lips lock in a gentle, electric kiss, the kind that makes you want the taste of him to linger on your tongue forever. 

“You wanna go up to my room?” He asks, the hot breath of his words dancing across your skin as his mouth still hovers over yours. 

Before, you would have quipped him with some sort of witty, sarcastic response, teasing him that you’d rather stay out in the pitch black and get eaten by mosquitos until he dragged you inside, eyes rolling at your sass. Now, the best you can manage are shaky breaths while you nod your head in agreement, praying your brain will let you form some sort of coherent thought before you speak. 

Frankie grabs your hand as he pulls you into his house, taking the familiar path through his kitchen and up the stairs to his bedroom, the pounding in both your chests filling the silence for the words you seem to lack. 

He doesn’t even bother closing the door behind him as you make it to his room, your bodies tangling and intertwining in a frantic dance, stumbling across the floor until the backs of Frankie’s knees collide with the bed, the two of you toppling over in soft giggles onto the mattress. 

“Fuck, I missed you.” Frankie sighs, one arm wrapped around your hip and the other resting on your face as he leans back in for another kiss, your smiles pressed against each other. 

“It’s only been like, three hours since I saw you last, dummy,” You quietly snicker, letting your hands wander up his chest, “You really missed me that much?” 

“Yeah, really.” He replies in between kisses, fingers digging just a little bit deeper into your side, “I can’t stop thinking about you, Kenzie. You’re all I think about. You’re all I ever wanna think about.” 

You try to swallow the lump that’s lingering in your throat, but with each second that passes, it seems to grow, trapping the words your brain is fighting to get out. The simple bliss you’ve found in pressing your mouth to Frankie’s has become overshadowed by the looming tension spreading through you as you imagine the soft plush of his lips across your skin, or the way you want his hands to creep down the waistband of your shorts and ease the ache that’s been building between your legs. 

Your body freezes at the realization that you want to tell him that you can’t stop thinking about him either, that you can’t stop thinking about the fact you want more than just his lips pressed against yours, how you want him to be the first one you feel inside you, that he’s the only one you ever want. 

That there’s nothing more than you want to be his. 

It doesn’t take long for Frankie to realize he’s making out with a half open mouth, pulling away with concern as he studies the pained expression across your face. 

“Kenz, a-are, are you okay? D-did I do something wrong?” Frankie stammers, gulping as he shifts himself to follow your lead and sit up on the bed. 

“N-no, no, it’s just that- fuck- I just- fuck, I don’t know how to say this.” You stutter, face growing hotter and hotter as you furrow your brow, eyes peeled to Frankie’s blue and green plaid sheets as you try to find the words you want so desperately for him to hear.

Frankie reaches out his hand, gently resting it on the bare skin of your thigh, just below the hem of your pajama shorts. You glance down at the way his fingers carefully rub back and forth, trying to calm your nerves enough to look at him. 

“It’s okay, Kenzie. Whatever it is, I’m- I’m here to listen.” He responds, trying his best to be the anchor in your storm, despite his own nearly shot nerves. 

“I- I- I really like you, Frankie.” 

“I really like you too, Kenz.” He smiles softly, just enough teasing inflection in his tone to get you to giggle, just a little. 

“I just- I- um, do you- Frankie, do you- do you ever think about doing more than just kissing me?” 

A stark silence fills the room, quiet enough that each breath through your nose and thump in your chest amplifies and echoes in the space between you. You gnaw at the inside of your cheek watching Frankie’s face go blank, eyes widening with every second he lets your question process. His Adam’s Apple bobs in sync with the trembling exhale he takes before he looks back at you, praying that your word vomit hasn’t led to a detrimental mistake. 

“Do um, holy shit- you mean like, l-like what? Like, like, h-having sex? W-w-with you?” 

He’s panting like he’s just finished a marathon, his eyes darting wildly between you and his sheets, terrified to answer your question with anything else but his own question to make sure he’s really just heard what you said. 

The tops of your teeth dig into your bottom lip as you nod your head just enough, the subtle shake just enough to let him confirm his suspicions that you’re asking as a way of letting him  know how often it’s crossed your mind. 

“Y-yeah. Yeah, I think about it.” He stammers, feeling his fingers tremble against your skin, hand still resting on your thigh, “D-do- do you? Um, think about it?” 

“Yeah.” You whisper, voice shaking as you reach down to lay your hand over his, letting your fingers slide between the gaps between his knuckles until they intertwine, gripping each other tightly, there was no chance the other could float away. 

The silence shifts to a different type of tension, a thickness in the air so palpable, it makes it just as hard to move as it does to breathe. The two of you stare at the interlocked hand resting on your thigh, stuck in a game of chicken of who dares to make the first move into the uncharted territory you’ve entered. 

“I- I’ve never-” 

“Me either.” Frankie interjects, cutting off the end of your statement.

It’s almost humorous to admit it out loud, like the both of you didn’t already share every detail of your lives with one another, and had somehow managed to let this fact fall between the cracks.

The two of you let out quiet laughs to yourselves, finding comfort in the comradery to work up enough courage to let your gazes meet again, wondering if Frankie can see the same yearning in your eyes as you see reflected in the soft brown his. 

“MacKenzie, I- I-” he mutters, scrunching his face with his swallow, trying to compose himself, “I only wanna do what you wanna do. I don’t- um, I don’t want you to think that if- if you don’t want to, o-or whatever, that I would be mad. I promise I would never, ever be mad at you because of that. Y-you know that, right?” 

“I know.” 

There’s not a part of you that doubts it. Not for a second. You know that there’s no one else on the face of this earth you trust more than him. 

There could be no one else but him. 

“You know I would never be mad at you either, right?” You ask, relieved as you watch Frankie gently nod his head. 

You’re not sure if it’s instinct or the weight of the tension that makes you lean into him, foreheads pressing together so that the messy curls of his sleepy hair are tickling your skin. You can hear how hard his heart is beating, waiting on your every breath as he leans back into you. 

“I want to. I want you, Frankie.” 

“F-fuck- Are you sure?” He asks, his free hand creeping across the sheets, carefully sliding up your thigh and under his sweatshirt you’re wearing, letting his fingers toy at the softness of your stomach and the waistband of your shorts. 

“I’m sure.” You whisper back, your own hand traveling up his leg and towards the tented fabric of his pajama bottoms. 

“I-if it’s too much, t-tell me to stop, okay? I promise I’ll take care of you, MacKenzie.” 

“I know you will. I trust you, Frankie.” 

“O-okay.” 

“Okay.” 

It’s then your mouths crash together in a messy dance of tounges and teeth, an instant electricity igniting in your core with anticipation and want. It’s frantic yet sensual, the way there’s nothing more you want than him, but can’t bear to miss a moment to take it all in, savoring every second you melt into him.

As your hands wander across each other’s bodies, Frankie shifts you to lay on your back so he can cage his frame over yours, the ends of his fingers barely daring to roam any farther than just below your hips or too far above your stomach. 

“C-can I take off your shirt?” He asks, already breathless at just the sight of you underneath him. 

“Technically your shirt, Morales.” You smirk, making his cheeks turn even more pink at the way you giggle when you say his name. 

“It’s yours now, looks way better on you than it does on me. Drives me fucking crazy seeing you in my clothes, Kenz.” He grins, carefully tugging your sweatshirt and the shirt underneath it above your head as you lift up your arms, helping him wriggle it free. 

As you pop out from under the fabric, the first thing you notice is the way Frankie’s jaw is hanging open, eyes wide as can be as they stay glued to your bare chest. 

“Holy shit.”  Frankie whispers to himself, tongue darting between his lips, staring at the way your nipples have hardened from being exposed and aroused. “Um, w-wow.” 

Seeing you topless sparks something in him to do the same, reaching over his shoulder to tug his t-shirt off his back and over his head, leaving nowhere for the heave of each heavy rise and fall of your chests to hide. 

Slowly, Frankie lets his hands slide up your stomach until he’s palming your breasts, grouping each one in his hands, making your breath hitch in the back of your throat as his fingers brush against your sensitive buds. 

He leans down to kiss you, starting at your lips before trailing down your neck and collarbone, until he reaches your chest, carefully kissing each handful he has in his grasp. 

You’ve never felt your core ache the way it does now, throbbing with want and need for more, just from the way Frankie’s groping you. It’s not an unfamiliar feeling- you’ve touched yourself before with this exact scenario playing in your mind, but never has it made you feel like this. 

“Y-you can take off my shorts, i-if you want.” 

“O-kay.” 

The gentleness of Frankie’s gaze makes your heart skip a beat, the chocolate brown of his eyes locked on yours as he scoots himself down the bed until he finds himself settled between your legs, now parted open for him. 

It’s then you’re overtly aware that Frankie is about to see you completely naked, a new wave of anxiety crashing through you as heat rises in your cheeks and makes you fidget the fabric of his sheets between your fingers. 

“I- I- I’m not wearing cute underwear. S-sorry.” You stammer, wincing as Frankie’s thumbs begin to dip below your waistband. 

“Seriously, Kenz?” He chuckles, pausing in his tracks to shake his head in disbelief, “Do you really think I care what underwear you have on right now?” 

“Well, n-no, but-” 

“You really think I’m about to turn down having sex with you because you’re not in the right underwear? That you won’t even have on in like, three seconds?” Frankie snickers, trying to help ease your clearly visible nerves. 

“Shut up.” You sigh, rolling your eyes as you playfully swat at him, forgetting about the fact you were topless and immediately clamming up again as you felt your breasts sway against your chest. “S-sorry, I- I’m just kinda nervous.” 

“Why are you nervous?” Frankie questions gently, wrapping his hand around your calf, thumb softly circling your skin. 

“Well you’re about to see me naked for the first time, Frankie. I think that’s a pretty fair reason to be nervous.” You force the stifled laugh stuck in your throat, attempting to uphold any confidence you have left in your facade. 

“You’re about to see me naked too, Kenz. Would it make you feel better if you saw me pantless first?” 

He says it like he’s teasing, but you know there’s a part of him that’s serious- that he’d do anything to make you feel better, even something as simple as being the first to forgo any clothes on his bottom half. 

“No, I know, Frankie, it’s just-” 

“Do you know how beautiful I think you are?” 

It catches you off guard, how quick he is to stifle your protest, the warmth of his words flushing your cheeks, now shifting to fit the delicate grin that’s growing between them. 

“You’re so beautiful, MacKenzie. Everything about you, I swear.” 

He must feel the butterflies churning in your stomach, his hands sliding down your thighs to grab your sides, leaning over to press soft kisses just above your waistband. He stares up at you once more, giving each other subtle nods of reassurance as his fingers play with the elastic, carefully helping you to lift your hips just enough to shuffle your bottoms down your legs until they’re a crumpled pile on the floor. 

It eases the tension that’s built throughout your body as you watch in real time how Frankie’s brain short circuits, mesmerized by the view that’s revealed itself between your legs. You timidly squirm your lower half against the sheets, just enough to feel the sticky warmth of your arousal that’s been pooling since the minute you stepped foot in Frankie’s bedroom. 

“H-holy- holy fuck. O-oh my god.” Frankie murmurs to himself, eyes locked on the puffy, wet mess of your pussy, “MacKenzie, I- wow. C-can, um, can I touch you?” 

“Mmhmm. Y-you can touch me, Frankie. F-fuck, I want you to. Please.” You whisper, letting your legs part for him more, clit pulsing with anticipation to feel Frankie’s fingers. 

“I-if it doesn’t feel good o-or, you know, you want me to stop, just tell me, okay?” 

“Okay, Frankie.” 

You didn’t even know it was possible to feel this wound up, every throb of your core pulsing through your body with so much intensity you’re convinced you may explode if Frankie doesn’t touch you this second. 

The pads his fingers gently slide over your swollen lips, collecting the slick that clings to them before he brings them to your clit, his precise and delicate touch still making you gasp the moment he starts to circle around your sensitive nub. He swirls his fingers with the lightest touch like you’re made of glass, scared he’ll break you if he dares to push too hard. 

“You can, fuck- you can press more if you want.” 

“Okay. I just- I didn’t wanna hurt you, or anything.” 

The corner of your lips curl with a soft smile, the stiffness in your muscles relaxing with how warm and safe he makes you feel. 

“I-in the same place, though? Same circles, just like, more pressure?” He asks, quietly calculating his next move as you shake your head in response. 

Frankie begins to circle again, slowly increasing the weight of his fingers against your clit, brushing against it in just the right way to make you whimper in delight. 

“Oh my god-” You sigh, breath hitching in the back of your throat. 

“Good oh my god, or bad oh my god?” Frankie questions, terrified he’s done something to upset you. 

“No- no, good oh my god. K-keep doing that.” You stammer, pulse quickening as a familiar tingle of pleasure begins to build in your stomach. 

Your reassurance gives Frankie the boost of confidence he needs, drawing tight circles around your nub with the pads of his fingers for a few moments, until his thumb takes over, leaving his middle two fingers free, ghosting over your entrance. 

There’s a louder moan as Frankie barely slips his middle finger inside of you, lightly prodding in and out of your hole, welcoming the new fullness in the warmth and wet of your walls. 

He pumps a few more times, letting his finger sink deeper with each stroke until he’s knuckle deep, reaching further than any spot you’ve been able to feel yourself. It’s when a second digit joins his first that you feel nearly breathless, the stretch and sting making you wince for a moment as you adjust, realising how much thicker and stronger his fingers are than your own when you touch yourself. 

Frankie immediately notices your tense expression, quickly pulling back, raising his hands like he’s been caught in the act, guilt ridden look painted across his face. 

“Fuck, Kenzie, are you okay? Did I hurt you? Fuck, I’m sorry.” 

“No, no, it’s okay, Frankie! It feels good, I promise, your fingers are just a lot bigger than mine.” 

He tilts his head in confusion for a second until the lightbulb clicks with him that he’s not the only one in the room who's ever been horny and taken care of themself to help solve their problem. 

“Wh-what do you think about? Wh-when, when you touch yourself?” He asks with a quiet caution. 

“I- I think about you, Frankie.”

You answer without hesitation. Not to appease him, not to convince yourself, but because it’s the truth. You’ve thought about him more times than you can count. 

Your answer ignites another spark of self-assurance in him, carefully letting his thumb swirl against your clit as his middle finger gently slides back into your entrance, working up to the same tempo he was at a few moments ago. 

“I think about you, too. All the time.” He confesses, a willing admittance now that you’re laying your cards out on the table for him. 

“Well, there was one time, a long time ago, I thought about Orlando Bloom after I watched Pirates of the Caribbean.” 

You’re not sure what spurs on your unnecessary addition to your comment, but it makes you and Frankie both snort, needing a moment to compose yourself from your fit of giggles. 

“Are you trying to tell me you’re really into pirates?” Frankie laughs, biting down on his lip. 

“No, you dork! That’s not- Jesus, you know what, forget I ever said anything, okay?” You sigh, rolling your eyes at Frankie, trying to will away the reds and pinks that plague your cheeks. 

“Your secret’s safe with me, Kenz, don’t worry.” He teases, his smile slowly shifting to a stoic sort of concentration as he stares down at his fingers pressed against your pussy. “I- I wanna try something.” 

“What?” 

“Can I um, can I go down on you?” 

“Wait, really?” 

Despite your own inexperience, you weren’t naive enough to ignore the rumblings from friends of friends, or stories of girls on your soccer team, constantly complaining about how all their boyfriends wanted them to suck their dicks with nothing in return. They’d claim it was gross, or weird, or that it would taste disgusting, so you’d be hard pressed to not believe that every boy under the sun mostly likely found themselves in the same school of thought. 

“Do you not want me to?” Frankie questions, trying to hide the small pang of disappointment you’re sure he feels in his chest at your puzzled reaction. 

“N-no, it’s just that- I didn’t think that- I thought guys thought that was gross.” 

“What? Who said that?” Frankie scoffs. 

“I don’t know, like, Sarah and Morgan from the soccer team always complained about how their boyfriends never wanted to because they said it was gross or whatever.” 

“Well Sarah and Morgan’s boyfriends have a single brain cell left between them after all the hits they’ve taken during football this season.” 

The two of you laugh again, finding relief in the way your friendship prevails through the discomfort. 

“You really don’t think it’s gross?” 

“No. I- I think it’s kinda hot.” 

It’s now Frankie’s cheeks that are flushed with crimson, trying his best to hide his embarrassment. You can tell he has more he wants to say from the way his eyes dart between yours and the bed, forcing you to tilt your head with that little nod he knows means that you’ll keep pestering him until he breaks. Lucky for you, it won’t take much. 

“Santi stole this DVD from his cousin's house, and honestly most of it was so stupid because obviously it's all fake. Like, no one’s that excited to get fucked at a doctor’s office. But anyways, there was this one part at the beginning where uh- where the guy goes down on the girl and I- um, I don’t know. I- I wanted to try it, I guess.” 

“Really didn’t think I was gonna have to worry about not picturing Santi in my head tonight.” 

You and Frankie giggle as you pretend to gag at the thought of Santi becoming a part of you losing your virginity, praying there never comes a day he finds out he’s in part to thank for Frankie’s peaked curiosity. 

“I- I want you to. If you want to.” 

“I want to. Fuck, I wanna taste you so bad.” 

The pace of your pulse begins to quicken again, watching the way Frankie’s face lights up as he races to position himself between your legs, laying flat against the mattress with his face hovering above your heat, his hot, trembling breath tickling your folds. 

You swear he licks his lips before his mouth meets you, but the slow, long drag of his tongue across your clit already has your head thrown back against his pillow, the warmth and wetness lighting you up from the inside out with jolts of electric pleasure. 

He repeats it a few more times, languidly lapping in smooth and steady strokes, each with just a little more pressure than the last. It’s instinctual, how you buck your hips towards his face, like your body knows it wants more before your brain can process it, signaling to Frankie you’ve given him the okay to keep going, to give you more. 

Little gasps escape your parted lips as his tongue moves faster, circling your clit the same way he had with his thumb, making your body melt into the mattress. It’s almost unearthly, how good it feels, little fires igniting in your stomach with every flick of his tongue. 

You don’t mean to startle him with how loudly you whimper as he intensifies the pressure, mouth still latched around your clit while his brown eyes peek up at you, breathlessly nodding to him that he shouldn’t dare to stop now. 

He takes it as a sign to test the waters even further, letting his middle finger be sucked into the warmth of your velvety walls before ever so carefully sliding in another. The stretch is still there but the sting has faded, his fingers a welcomed addition to ease the way you realize you’ve been clenching around nothing, subconsciously desperate to fill the empty ache in your core. 

Inch by inch, he sinks them deeper until you feel him bump against a soft spot inside you that makes you scream in a way you’ve never felt before, fireworks exploding everywhere in your body as his tongue and fingers work in tandem. 

A familiar tingle rapidly begins to build at the base of your spine, except the same type of tingle you’ve experienced alone has never multiplied and compounded in the same way this one does. 

Desperate for something to grab on to, one hand fists at Frankie’s sheets, the other, shooting down to the messy curls of his hair, burying your fingers until they disappear under his unkempt locks. 

You’re not sure if you’re so pleasure drunk you can’t think straight, but you swear you can feel that stupid, smug smirk pressed against your pussy as you hold onto him for dear life. 

He keeps the same pace with his tongue, fingers prodding in just the right spot to make you feel like you’re losing control, limbs numb and shaking like jello as you feel the tingle creep down your legs and up through your chest. 

“F-Frankie, I- oh fuck- fuck, oh my god, fuck, I- I- oh my go-ahhhhhhhhhh-”  

It’s all consuming, the way the pleasure washes over you, like waves crashing into the shoreline- relentless and never ending. There’s a moment you’re convinced your body’s left this planet, floating off in space in a cloud of endless ecstasy. 

You’re not sure how long you’re lost in the electricity of it all- Minutes? Hours? Years? You’d believe any and all of the above. Your chest rises and falls with each heavy breath as you come to, greeted with the image of Frankie still settled between your legs, wild haired and goofy grinned. 

“Frankie…. Holy fuck.” 

A beaming, boyish smile lights up across his face at the way you’re panting, wiping the shiny slick stained around his mouth with the back of his hand. 

“Yeah? D-did it feel good? Did you um- did you-” 

“Yeah. Holy shit. Remind me to thank Santi’s cousin if I ever meet him.” 

“Jesus Christ…” Frankie sighs, rolling his eyes at your giggles, heart melting at the way he can’t hide his rosy cheeks and curled lips every time he looks at you, “It felt good though? Like, Actually?” 

“Yeah, it felt really good, Frankie.” You coo, watching Frankie prop himself up to sit back on his haunches, letting your gaze wander down his bare chest until you reach the clearly tented fabric of his pajama pants, lingering just long enough for him to notice where you’re staring. 

Silent tension fills the room again, the both of you realizing that you’ve only conquered one part of the journey you’ve embarked on together, and that the second half of your travels pose many more risks than the first. Frankie is the only one you want by your side as you brave your adventure together. 

With a little push, your back parts with his mattress, sitting up to close the gap between you. You’re close enough now that your hands can roam up his thighs, softly palming at the stiff bulge straining under his pants. 

“Oh f-fuck-” Frankie stutters, jaw going slack with ever pass your hand makes over his erection. 

“Can I take off your pants, Frankie?” You whisper, burying your head in the crook of his neck, craning your head just enough so that the hot words of your breath dance in his ear. 

You can barely finish your sentence before Frankie’s scrambling off the edge of the bed, standing up straight to give you the easiest access to shuffle his pajamas down while you kneel on the mattress. 

You pray Frankie can’t feel the way your fingers shake as they sink under his waistband and brush against his stomach, pulling his bottoms down just slow enough to memorize the subtle V that sinks between his hips, or the soft trail of barely there brown hair under his belly button that thickens with every tug. 

With one final breath, you slide them down enough to finally free what’s been hiding underneath, his length fully hard, bobbing as it springs free. This must have been what it felt like for Frankie, understanding the way his eyes went wide and brain went blank after he saw you for the first time.

It’s not like it’s a surprise to you, the concept of what he’s had tucked away in his pants.

What does, is how the sight of it nearly knocks the wind out of you. 

“F-Frankie… Holy shit.” 

“What? I-is something wrong?” He winces, immediately bracing himself for the worst. 

“No, it’s just- just like, Holy shit, Frankie.” You reiterate, making it very clear you’re more than impressed as you gesture at what’s hanging in front of you. 

“O-oh, t-thanks.” He stutters, a sweet shyness overtaking him as a result of your admiration. 

You scoot yourself closer, a boldness overcoming you as you delicately wrap your hand around his length, slowly sliding it up and down his shaft. You pray that whatever you’re doing feels okay, but from the way Frankie’s whimpers and moans escape from his parted lips, you take it as a sign you’re safe to take another step further.

“Since you went down on me, do you want me to go down on-” 

“N-no!” He pauses, drowning his face in his palm for the way he’s panicking, making you drop him from your grasp, “No, I- uh- shit- sorry, sorry, no it’s just- No, not because I don’t want you to- b-believe me, I really want you to. Like, really want you to.” 

“O-okay, so?” 

He must feel awful for the puzzled and pained expression on your face, reaching with both hands to cradle your jaw, making sure your gaze is fixated on him. 

“I’m sorry, I promise nothing’s wrong, I just- fuck- I don’t wanna cum yet and I know if you go down on me, I will in like two seconds, and I wanna cum when we’re having sex. I-if you still wanna, ya know, have sex. Jesus, I’m sorry, I don’t know why I freaked out like that. I think I’m- I’m nervous, too. ” 

The top of your teeth graze your lower lip, batting your lashes in heavy, long blinks, your lips curling in a sympathetic smile that you’re not alone in your uneasiness. Finding comfort in the uncomfortability, together. Knowing how easy it would be for him to play it all off like no big deal, or pretend to mask the confidence he lacks, and yet, he doesn’t, makes you want him even more. 

“Do you still want to? I- I’m nervous too, but I want to. It makes me feel less nervous that it’s with you.” 

The tender kiss he plants on your lips as your bodies move in sync down the bed is the only answer you need, shuffling backwards towards the pillows while Frankie hovers his body over you, mouths only parting to let you settle into the mattress. 

Each kiss becomes more frantic and desperate than the last, mouths melting together as your tongues wrestle. The way he kisses you is all consuming, enough to make you feel like the only people in the world that exist in this moment are you and him. 

“You sure you want to?” He gasps, fighting for his words to escape his parted lips. 

“I’m sure.” You whisper back, barely soft enough for him to hear. 

The two of you nod, Frankie shifting his weight to reach across you, shuffling through the drawer of his nightstand until he fishes out the box of condoms he has hidden away. He sits back on his knees, carefully ripping a square from the line of packages, tossing the rest over the side of the bed. He’s even more delicate as he tears the edge of the foil he’s holding in his hands, removing the rubber and methodically rolling it down over his shaft. 

“It’s on right... Right?” 

“Yeah. I practiced putting them on earlier this week so I didn’t look like a complete idiot when I tried to do it the first time. Although I think telling you that probably makes me look like an even bigger idiot.” 

“No it doesn’t,” You softly reassure him, “I’d rather have you do that than put it on wrong. I don’t want any of your babies yet, Morales.” 

Yet. 

You’re not sure what makes your brain decide to add those three letters into your sentence. You’re also not sure why you don’t hate that it did. There’s a part of you that thinks there’s a chance that maybe Frankie didn't hear it, but you know that boy would die before he stopped hanging onto every word that fell from your lips. 

There’s a part of you that also swears he’s trying with everything in him to keep from smiling. 

Your attention shifts with Frankie’s body, hovering back over yours with his fist wrapped around the base of his shaft, sinking his hips to line himself up with your entrance. His tip brushes against your clit, a familiar jolt of pleasure swirling in your stomach at how you clench around nothing, anxious and aching to feel him inside you. 

“I-if it’s too much, or it doesn’t feel good, or you wanna stop, just-” 

“I know, Frankie. I’ll tell you, I promise.” 

Your low exhale syncs with Frankie’s gulp, each of you bracing yourselves as you finally feel his tip breach inside you. You try your best to relax, squirming your bottom half with each inch Frankie sinks himself deeper. You’re sure there’s a wince as he pushes past the halfway point- not painful, but a sting and stretch in a way you’ve never felt. Frankie freezes, gently grabbing your hip. 

“You good, Kenzie? You want me to stop?” 

“No, I’m okay, just kind of stings a little, but it still feels good. Maybe if you didn’t have such a big dick, it wouldn’t be a problem.” You tease, letting out a little huff of laughter. 

It’s now Frankie’s turn to scrunch the muscles of his face, cocking your head at the grit of his teeth. 

“Frankie, are you okay?” 

“Yup. Yup, I’m good. When you laughed it squeezed my dick and it felt really good and I’m trying not to make a fucking fool of myself right now.” 

“Sorry, no more laughing, got it.” You grimace, desperately trying not to giggle at Frankie’s pained concentration as he shakes his head at you. “Y- you can keep going, though.” 

“F-fuck, o-okay.” 

There’s another deep breath before he’s pushing his hips towards you, taking his time as you feel the pain start to shift to indescribable pleasure, the feeling of how full he is inside of you making every wire in your brain short circuit. 

“Holy fucking shit.” Frankie whispers under his breath, “Fuck, you feel so good, MacKenzie.” 

You wish you had the words to tell him how you feel the same, but the best you can muster is a muffled moan that escapes from your unhinged jaw, brain empty at the sweet stretch of his fullness, stagnant inside you. 

F-fuck Frankie. Oh my god.” You murmur, letting the muscles of your face untense so the weight of your eyelids can flutter open, soaking in the image of Frankie above you. The rest of your body follows, slowly beginning to relax as you adjust, yearning for more than just his hips flushed against yours. “Y-you can move, Frankie.” 

He lets his arms sink from the plank he’s holding, letting your chests flush together so he can bury his face in the crook of your neck, groaning into your skin with the first thrust of his hips, steadily sliding in and out of your heat, savoring every second of the sensation. 

“You still okay, baby?” Frankie coos into your ear, the new nickname only adding to the way you want to clench down around his length as he keeps his languid pace, dragging his cock along the warmth and wetness of your walls. 

“Mhmmm. You can go faster, i-if you want. F-fuck, it feels so good, Frankie.” 

The way you whimper and whine his name sets off a low rumble deep in his chest, lips locking with yours as you feel him pump just a little harder, his length nudging the same, savory spot he had found before with his fingers. Your hand shoots up to wrap around his bicep, nails marking crescent moons in his skin. 

Every move he makes is solely based on your reaction, reading the way your body responds to him before daring to take a step further. Your iron grip and sweet moans are enough to spur him on further, a steady rhythm now working through each thrust of his hips. 

There’s a new knot in your stomach that starts to tighten, building in your gut and slowly creeping its way to spread throughout your body. The coarse hairs curling at the base of his shaft brush against your clit just enough to spark a jolt of electricity to your core, bucking your hips into his with each thrust. You’re desperate to reach the same high he had given you before, eager to ease the ache of your sensitive bud. 

Frankie picks up on the way you rut back into him, snaking his hand down your front, making just enough space between your bodies to let the pads of his fingers find your clit. The pressure he adds with the circles and swirls makes your breath hitch in the back of your throat, overwhelmed with arousal by how all encompassing Frankie is. 

It’s hard to believe how quickly you find yourself becoming addicted to him, your body yearning to become one with his and never separate. You want your heart, your soul, for all of it to be his, and only his, to be unable to find where you end and he begins. 

The only thing you want is to be his. 

With each stroke, your pussy flutters faster around his length, the tingle that had formed at the base of your spine now seeping through your veins, teetering on the brink of collapse. 

“F-fuck- fuck, Frankie, don’t stop. Fuck, I- I think I’m- I’m close.” 

If it was anyone else, there would be no words to describe the embarrassment from the pathetic whimper you let out at the way Frankie groans while he punches into you. A look of pained concentration splays across his face, focusing with every brain cell he has left to make sure you finish first. 

“Shit- I- I- fuck, I’m close, too.” He stutters, chest heaving in between each word. 

He presses his forehead into yours, meeting you with the tacky sheet of sweat that now clings to his skin and dampens his curls. His scent, his warmth, the weight of his body laid across yours- you almost dare to wish that this moment, this feeling, would never end. 

But the way he whispers your name, each letter warm and tickling your skin, a sweet symphony only he can sing is what sends you over the edge, pushing you past the point of no return. 

“M-MacKenzie… f-fuck, MacKenzie-”  

Each syllable is an explosion inside you, lighting you up to send sparks through every last limb until you’re sobbing his name, singing his own sweet song back to him. 

“Frankie, Frankie, Frankiefrankiefrankie-ahhhhh-” 

The dam inside you finally breaks, wave after wave of pleasure crashing through you as you squeeze around him, swallowed whole by the electricity of it all. 

There’s not much your mind can process after you snap, but there’s enough strength left to keep your gaze locked on Frankie and the way he gasps as his jaw drops after you’ve finished. He’s just as lost as you, relishing in your afterglow as he chases his own high, each thrust more sloppy and erratic than the last. 

“Fuck, fuck, holy shit MacKenzie, fuck, I’m gonna cum so ha-aaaaahhh-” 

There’s only one last shift of his hips before he’s spilling into the condom, a final moan that follows his release as he collapses into you. Your chests rise and fall in sync, breaths heavy as you pant in the soft silence that fills the room.

The quiet brings a gentle comfort, basking in the bliss that radiates off each of you as you let yourselves drift back to earth, praying it gives you enough time to remember how to speak. 

It’s Frankie who arrives back first, too consumed with your own journey back to hear the way his voice breaks as he carefully whispers your name. 

“MacKenzie?” 

“Yeah, Frankie?” 

“C-can I tell you something?” 

“Anything.” 

His sweet call brings you back, thumb brushing against the warmth of his cheek, waiting on every word he's working himself up to say.

“MacKenzie, I- MacKenzie, I- I think I love you.” 

It's then you're sure your heart stops- four little letters forcing a smile so wide across your face, your positive your cheeks may hurt for days after.

Maybe, if you're lucky, they'll keep hurting like this for the rest of your life.

“Can I tell you something, Morales? I think I might just love you, too.” 

@chaotic-iguana @bbiophiliaa @pertinentpostmortem @angelofsmalldeath-codeine

@pedrobaby @fatima-marisa @beboldbebravethings @poodlebae @kittenlittle24

@3sriracha @jungchloee @perennialdoll247 @prettyinpunk85 @raspberrybesitos

@partyofone3413 @harriedandharassed @pedrohoe04 @theorganasolo

@endlessthxxghts @beware-my-thorns @missladym1981 @milly-louise

@jay-zzle @the-one-with-the-grey-color @persephone-girl @bitchesuntitled

@pedropascallvr @millennial-teenybopper @vee-bees-blog @itsokbbygrl

@hopplessilse @mxtokko @its-nebuleuse @mandoisapunk @msmorningstaarr

@amyispxnk @honeyedmiller @mountainsandmayhem @picketniffler @burningnerdchild

@copperhalfcent @theoraekenslover @bloodyinspirationaldemon @vee-bees-blog

@samgirl4life @pigeonmama @survivingandenduring @jolapeno @ovaryacted

@amanitacowboy @mystickittytaco @anoverwhelmingdin @greenwitchfromthewoods

@witchofthedeepwoods @ericamarie093 @readingiskeepingmegoing @whimsiwitchy @whoaitspascal87

@vickie5446 @katw474 @ravenpoe67 @inthedarkestnight @brittmb115

@harryscherrysugar @wonderpillar @sunnytuliptime @pasc4lfuzz @yesjazzywazzylove-blog

@kungfucapslock @vannabanana1995 @beezusvreeland @guelyury

@javierpena-inatacvestnotifs

[anarchomitsumi]

okay so stl 61 !! this chapter has laid out ujie's worldview: there are those in this world that are liked, accepted, popular, —and those that will always be shunned. only a limited amount of people may be the lucky ones.

and turns out, shima's worldview isn't so different. for him there are those who take, and those whose things are taken away from.

either you are born a shunned monster or the doctor that created it. no nuance is accepted. it's essentially a reaction to being socially shunned, you end up resenting the people you deem guilty of your misfortune so much that you deny them their own depth of being. they are the fortunate, they could never understand your suffering. it's a feeling quite common among teenagers, i think.

if i were to point out something, it'd be that for ujie this classification into fortunate-unfortunate is unmovable. he has no hope of changing his social fate. for shima, however, it isn't set in stone. he's determined to get out of it and get back the things he's been robbed of.

ujie just seems...very bitter about the way he's been treated. when both mitsumi and his unnamed classmate say 'you shouldn't criticize someone who's giving it their all', his eyes just seem to say yeah, but who's gonna empathize with me? no one gives me grace when I'm giving it my all.

he's essentially jealous of the good treatment he thinks shima is getting from their peers. to him, shima's fortune is the cause of his own misfortune.

but along the way he's denied shima any humanity, shima cannot have any depth or trouble in his eyes. i think this is especially easy to see in the ending pannel, after shima confronts him, when he says so that guy is human too — implying he thought before that shima wasn't human because he couldn't understand struggle.

it's a type of ideology that, though an understandable defense mechanism, is very unfair to the people around you.

what specially gets me though, is that ujie tells shima he's ARROGANT for taking the monster role. this is shima, we know he has been behaving against his wishes to please others since he was little. we know he performs to be liked, but despises the attention he gets because they like him for his appearance, his performance, never truly him. when ujie calls him "arrogant", he's implying shima enjoys the empty attention he gets from his peers. and to be told that you enjoy the very thing we know troubles shima the most...i can understand why he got mad.

here's the thing though — ujie understands that the attention shima gets has nothing to do with what he actually does or with who he truly is. he understands it's an empty sort of acceptance, but regardless to ujie it still looks more desirable than his own situation. it might be impersonal but that also means it's unconditional. shima will always be liked because he's attractive.

(to shima though, it's not unconditional at all. he thinks the moment he starts acting truly like himself everybody will despise him)

so yeah. closing thoughts. i think this was truly a beneficial encounter for the both of them. for shima, it helped him get out of his self pity spiral for a bit and acknowledge ujie's point of view. and also he was assertive for a change ! shima exhibiting an emotion that isn't a fake smile or resignated indifference?? what?? i can't believe he actually....got things out of his chest for a change.

and for ujie, i think this has broadened his worldview. he understands know that people as seemingly perfect as shima can indeed struggle as well. the world isn't cleanly divided into Blessed By God and Doomed Forever.

i also hope this helps him get rid of those awful thoughts that he'll never be accepted. if shima is an anomaly, —like he found out today — maybe he can be too. if that little smile in the last pannel is anything to go by, his bitterness might just start to crack :)

[coeurify]

ellie realising shes in love w you for the first time

Love had never been a kind feeling for Ellie. The butterflies explained by hushed teenage voices over a bonfire never exactly captured what Ellie felt in her stomach when she felt that sensation creeping into her bones. What she felt about the four-letter word was a little more dangerous than the soft wings of a monarch butterfly. It was more barbed wire squeezing her intestines, a frantic sort of feeling that overwhelmed her, a surefire sign of the doom that would follow. It only got worse as she aged.

That feeling, one she swore she didn’t feel easy, that she didn't like to feel, returned one night.

A night that had been the first quiet one in weeks, her head pressed onto an old stitched blanket that was a little rough against her hair. Jackson was warm that night, a short sleeve pressed onto her skin as she sighed.

“Do you think the stars were this bright before the outbreak?” a voice had asked beside her. Eyes that were focused up on the night above them. Ellie’s arms crossed over her stomach lazily, the blanket you two laid on acting as a home for your bodies as you looked at the stars above.

Well, you looked up, and Ellie looked at you. “Not everywhere, in big cities you could barely see them. All the light pollution, but out in places like this? I bet so.”

You turn your head, looking at her with a slight grin. “Nah, I don’t think so,” you shrug, pursing your lips.

Ellie’s eyebrows furrowed, hoping you would continue.

“I have to believe something is better nowadays, so I think the stars are brighter now.”

Ellie lets a soft chuckle fall from her lips. So optimistic, even when you lived in a place like this— a time like this. Ellie admired that. She thinks she lost all sense of optimism the moment she woke up in a car, the blue-tinged hospital gown scratching against her skin. But the way you said it so simply, like you believed it so much, made her want to believe it too.

“Maybe,” Ellie concludes, though she knows the real answer.

“You have to teach me how to find constellations sometime,” you add softly, staring up again.

“It’s not too hard; i’ll help you trace them with your finger,” Ellie hums, hand reaching up, squeezing one eye closed.

When you laugh, she feels a slight tug in her stomach, but it's soft enough to ignore.

Until your finger reaches forward. You had turned your head again, staying focused on the apples of her cheeks. Your finger came forward to brush against the freckles Ellie doubted you could see in this much darkness. That’s when she felt the wires wrap around her stomach.

“Can I say something really cheesy?” you question.

“If it’s about my freckles, I’ll stab you right here,” Ellie threatens with no bite.

“Oh c’mon!” you whine, tapping her cheek with your finger. “You totally ruined my line!”

“That line was gonna be awful,” Ellie retorts, shaking her head.

The blanket shifts lightly with the wind when you move, a huff coming from Ellie’s lips as you straddle her, staring down with a pout.

“You are such a mood killer,” you chastise, staring down at Ellie.

That’s when she knows she's fucked. That’s when the sharp points of the wires press into her chest and lungs, sucking a deep breath from her.

When you stare down at her, prettier than the stars that frame behind your head, Ellie thinks she may be in love.

But when you press a kiss to her cheek, and then another, Ellie begins to believe the stories of butterflies in her stomach.

When your lips find the corner of her mouth, the barbed wire started to feel more like wings.

[schizopositivity]

hi—i just found this blog and am so immensely thankful?

i’m only 17 and in a month i’m going to a psychiatrist to get evaluated for schizophrenia and i’m… completely terrified because i feel like my life is going to be ruined by this awful mental illness. it’s just,, really nice to see posts like yours reminding people that we can live happy fulfilling lives and aren’t inherently doomed just because of it, so. seriously, thank you for making a scared teenager feel a little bit better—

That has always been my hope for this blog, for people like us to feel less alone and know that there is hope. Messages like this make my day :)

I was 18 when I was diagnosed and it was devastating. I didn't know of anyone else who had schizophrenia besides my grandpa who was a horrible person, and what I saw in horror movies. I felt so lost and ashamed, that went on for about a year. And then I started searching through the internet. I found things like the YouTube channel SBSK and all their interviews with people with schizophrenia, I found the 'Inside Schizophrenia' podcast, I found the YouTube channel 'Living Well with Schizophrenia', I found out about the organization 'Students with Psychosis', and I found blog posts of people openly sharing their experience. I couldn't find my community in real life, but I did find it on the internet. And that was so incredibly helpful for me. I decided to take what I learned, along with my own experiences and post it on here. And the community that I've found on here has been so healing. I don't feel as alone anymore, and I owe it to people like you who are brave enough to share, even with all the stigma stacked up against us. Together we can make changes that will lead to even more people opening up about their schizophrenia or psychosis. And I can't wait to live in a world like that.

[lagunapoint]

I’m really hoping for a happy arc for Lavellan and Solas in Veilguard, oh god. No surprises like him being trapped in the Fade while she’s stuck in reality, or having to make a painful choice about who gets to stay alive. Just no, please.

There are so many words and shattered hopes here, I’m sorry, but I couldn’t stop myself. Grab a cup of tea, some cookies, and sit next to me, my dear Solavellan.

And now, it’s time to lay all the cards on the table. You know, I can’t help but connect the story of Doctor Who and Rose with Lavellan and Solas in my mind. These storylines mean so much to me, and they both break my heart in the same way.

Don’t worry if you’re not familiar with the Doctor Who fandom, I tried to write this as comfortably and clearly as possible for our little refuge.

Relationships that are doomed from the start but where the characters fight through all the difficulties just to see their loved one again... these fill me with awe and pain. (I’m not normal, haha) When creating such relationships, writers have a huge responsibility, and you can’t just trample on expectations, like what happened to me (and many others in the fandom) with the ending of Doctor and Rose.

(A bit of a description of the Doctor and Rose’s love so you can better understand why I’m so anxious of the Solavellan part of the fandom. Warning: Spoilers below. If you’re planning to watch the series starting with the Tenth Doctor, you might want to skip the next few paragraphs.)

He’s immortal, lonely, brooding, and full of regret. He chose the death of his people for the sake of the universe’s survival. He mourns them, he’s broken, lost. He can never undo his decision, and he no longer knows who he is. And then he meets her. She rekindles the light and hope in him. She helps him make the right choices. She changes her life for him, falls in love, even though she knows their relationship is impossible. He feels the same, but it’s like he doesn’t want to admit it. He enjoys her presence. For the first time in almost a thousand years, he falls in love. It slowly changes his world. And oh my God, their maximum intimacy is in their looks, their hugs, and the warm touches of their hands. (There were two kisses, but another being was in her body at the time. So it doesn’t count!)

How do you think this relationship ends?

It crashes into reality. She sacrifices herself and ends up trapped in a parallel reality where he can never exist. Never. It’s the end for them. Three minutes on Bad Wolf Bay. Buckets of tears. He fades away, and she’s left alone, crying along with me.

For years, she searched for a way to see him again. Her life changed so much it’s hard to imagine.

And then the moment of their reunion comes.

Hold your breath

And what did the writers come up with? Feel the strangeness of this decision: since she’s in another world where he can’t be with her, since he’s immortal and she’s mortal, let’s just create his mortal double and give him to her. They’ll be happy. haha. Happy ending.

Just imagine this horrible scenario (forgive me for this), where they create a double of Solas, stripped of all his godhood, mortal, and he’s given to Lavellan.

And Solas, the real Solas, with bitterness and full awareness of what’s happening, gives his Lavellan to him, then walks away into the mist. He loves her so much that he lets her go to another version of himself so she can be happy. Ugh. I feel awful.

Even as a teenager, I understood that this was utter nonsense. She’d leave that double in a day. It’s so obvious, damn it. It’s the worst decision the writers could’ve made for such a strong relationship.

And that’s it, the end. For almost 20 years, there’s been nothing more, and there won’t be. It’s over, and it’s just brutal. It’s a love story that got a happy ending only in fanfiction, fan art, and role-playing.

And that’s why I’m so scared for the outcome of the relationship in Veilguard. God, let it be a worthy ending for all of us few Solavellans. Damn it, this part of the fandom deserves some happiness already.

I truly wish I could have the chance to create a good ending for Solas and Lavellan. I’m sure that even 10 minutes of a cutscene would be enough to make us happy. If we don’t get happiness, then I’ll write another endless rant. In any case, there are always amazing authors, artists, and creators who can heal any plot shortcomings.

There’s so much sadness and doubt here, oh ir abelas, vhenan

[ethereal-occultist]

There’s just something so crazy about Christianity. I grew up in the church, went to Preschool in my church, and up until I was a teenager I defended it, even though we stopped going when I was young. Once when I was little, I was crying so hard because I wanted to meet Jesus, and my parents actually thought I was going to kill myself because I wanted to so badly.

Now I don’t really hold any religious views, I guess I’m agnostic because I don’t know, no one really does. But because I don’t go to church my family thinks I’m doomed to Hell.

I try not to bring anything up because I’m the odd man out so I just keep my mouth shut, I even go along with the prayers before dinner and everything. Because I don’t know, maybe God is real, but I’m not committing to organized religion.

On my grandpa’s death bed last year, my sister told me that I need to be saved so that she doesn’t have to worry about me going to Hell like this on my death bed.

Our grandpa is dying, in front of our eyes, and you really can only think about me going to Hell? Because you think I’m just an awful person who doesn’t believe in God? The one thing I have never gotten over that was kind of the catalyst for my deconstruction was that God would send people to Hell, in general, but especially just for not believing. I never believed that, even when I was a very young, gullible child.

I went to church with them one time this year (for Easter) and they are SO good at pulling you in. Telling stories about miracles that happened. “They could happen to you too. But only if you pay me, so I can afford my Gucci sneakers and 3 piece suit” is what pulled me back to reality.

My sister just sent me a tik tok, I haven’t watched it. The cover photo says something about “that one friend who you don’t want to be without in Heaven”. I don’t want to watch it.

She knows I’m gay. Because her and our other sister forced me out. And they seem to not really care, she gifted me a couple LGBTQ Christian books for Christmas. But I looked up their pastors views on LGBTQ community, and it’s the usual pedophile, brainwashing views that Christians hold, and in just waiting for the day they start to think that of me too. My family used to be the one thing I could count on and now I’m watching them pull away from me in real time.

[alanaartdream]

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After reading the Danny Phantom a glitch in time I was in the mood to try to sketch Danny with his Friends Tucker and Sam

And then being as yeah Sam and Tucker did get to join Danny in the nicktoons unite game (heck you can play as Sam in the 2nd game witch is the island game as well as in the toy bots one that came after that ) so they did meet Timmy Turner so had to draw that in

And then had to draw my Fairy Timmy with the nicktoons talking with Sam being as he has met them in the games

Now for years I’ve seen maybe 1-2 artists keep the nicktoons unite fandom alive but most of the time the focus was only on the 1st game not on the other 3 in the series so didn’t see and Sam or Tucker getting added into the lineup (witch is a crying shame because Sam was quite awesome in the games; you could even play as her in at least 2 of the games (not sure about the globs of doom one where they took Timmy Turner out and had invader zim & dib as well as some villains join the team in that one; but then Timmy could and would’ve wished them out of trouble like he does for Jimmy Timmy power hour episodes so the game development team must of not wanting to deal with that tricky story plot )

Like now they’re adding in Jenny XJ9 from my teenage robot life and El Tigre tiger boy but forget to add in Sam and Tucker???

Heck Sammy squirrel; Patrick Sat and Squidward were apart of the Nicktoons unite team up for a lot of the games (also didn’t help that nicktoons started to focus more on SpongeBob Square pants more by the last of the games)

Think you could play as Sammy squirrel in the games too

But then maybe their version of nicktoons unite games aus they like to make Danny have darker life or less supportive friends/ family so maybe that’s why they don’t add them but are adding in Jenny Xj9 and tiger boy before adding in any of Danny’s friends and SpongeBob’s friends or they didn’t know the others games?

Enithr way the games have a order to them apparently (I didn’t know what the order was until some YouTube/ google searches later)

So probably just lack of information as to why it’s this way (( I mean I don’t wanna stop people having their own takes on things I love when people are creative and do their own things))

Just seems odd to not add the other characters that made it into the team or how tragic they make Danny’s life seem in their aus when honestly Danny got a very good supporting network of friends/ family & allies who helps him deal with ghosts and being half ghost (in fact he’s a bit of a adorable dork not really something I’d say is depressing gloomy or something tragic in their life)

Making me think they mixed Timmy turner’s tragic life story with Danny’s being as Danny’s the ghost boy with ghost powers they want to make him tragic when really Timmy’s one with only Wanda Cosmo poof/peri and Fairy world to help him deal with his crazy dumb neglectful parents who forget to feed him and leave him with a abusing awful babysitter; don’t really care to teach him anything and don’t care he’s dealing with awful bullies and a crazy teacher who just wants to fail him all the time to get at his fairies AND he’s only 10 years old and has to deal with all of that without any support whatsoever (if he didn’t have fairies/wanda Cosmo & poof) he’d be a dead ghost child Danny & his friends might’ve had to deal with honestly

Heck because they both been created by butch jerkman the creator once said he was planning on making them cousins (like distant cousins) at one point but gave up on the idea witch probably explains why they do look a little alike

So like Danny has a lot to deal with with the ghost and his own school bullies but his family & friends love and support him

Heck like Jimmy Danny with help of his friend Tucker & Sam after all the ghosts they’re dealing with and how emotion is a driving force for ghosts in his world would pick up Timmy only acts snarky/ sassy to protect himself and is honestly a pretty good kid his life back in his world is pretty bad any nicktoons character who’s life might be a little like Timmy’s is maybe Dib’s from invader Zim but the movie changed how Dib’s father is like (if you’d seen the invader Zim’s cartoon show boy dib has some pretty dark moments and thankfully the show doesn’t gloss over those dark moments like fairly odd parents original show use to like to do )

I mean probably overthinking things here it’s just my opinion after looking into things more and enjoying the shows and stuff

Because lately where I use to love how those artist been keeping nicktoons unite fandom going for such a long time; it’s as I go back and enjoy Danny phantom/ fairly odd parents and the nicktoons unite games that it feels like the characterising of these characters feels a bit off now

It’s still good just something is missing or don’t match up

[miraculouslbcnreactions]

Hello. I've been binge reading your meta post an I loves all of it. I have one question, though I don't know if you had the same question or not. If you had I'm sorry feel free to ignore this but if you hadn't, this is my question. Many people said Adrien as sentimonster is a good plot and the other said it's also good metaphor for abuse children. But what do you think about the senti plot? Is it necessary? And what do you think the writer is trying to achieve with the plot if Adrien doesn't even allowed to know about what he is?

Thank you! I'm glad that you've been enjoying my rambles! I don't think I've touched on those aspects of the sentiplot, so here goes!

Is it Necessary/What's The Goal?

I don't think that the sentiplot is even remotely necessary. My two cents is that it reads like something that was added relatively last-minute in order to add some cheap drama to draw the plot out because they didn't have enough content to organically fill seven seasons. Part of the reason that I'm comfortable saying that is because we've seen the writers do this type of move many times before. I don't wanna get too into the weeds on this, but a good example is the love triangles with Luka and Kagami.

Luka and Kagami are never treated as real alternate love interests. They're just road blocks on the love square highway that allow for seasons three to end on a cliff hanger. The fact that season four opens on two episodes meant to reassure the audience that Lukanette and Adrigami are doomed to fail is proof of this. No one is actually supposed to ship those ships. There's no Team Luka vs Team Adrien. It's just cheap drama.

The other reason that I feel comfortable calling the sentiplot cheap shoehorned drama is because the sentiplot has no teeth. A big reason why I refused to believe that it was going to be a thing was because it's an extremely serious plot that has no place in a Y-7 show. The wielder of raw destruction can have his free will overwritten at any time! The show has made jewelry theft a common teenage past time! This is bad!

And yet, once it's introduced, it goes nowhere. Gabe gives the most lackluster commands humanly possible and Nathalie undoes every one of them before they have a chance to meaningfully impact the plot. The biggest fallout of the sentiplot was that the Adrienette kiss got delayed a bit. How terrifying.

If the sentiplot had the weight it deserved, then it would have destroyed Adrientte in a big, dramatic fashion. Gabriel would have commanded Adrien to date Kagami and Tomoe would have done the same for Kagami re Adrien. But that's too serious, so we don't even get Gabe telling Adrien to break up with Marinette. He just tells Adrien to not see her and Marinette never has any clue that something went wrong there because Nathalie undoes the command two minutes later.

The Sentiplot's and Emilie

You may have read the previous section and thought, "But wait, doesn't the sentiplot give an explanation for why Emilie used the peacock? Didn't we need that?"

No, we didn't. Felix's little play and Gabe's memory of the night they used the peacock both heavily imply that no one knew that the peacock would kill you. It's why Felix exists! His father did not willingly give his life to have a kid and neither did Emilie. It was an unknown side effect.

Imo, it would have actually been better if Emilie hadn't used the peacock for such obviously selfish reasons. I mean, is anyone really saying, "Oh no, the rich lady used forbidden magic (and possibly killed some people?) to get a designer baby, then faced unexpected consequences! How awful for her! She didn't deserve that!"

Wouldn't it have been a far more interesting and complex story if Emilie used the peacock because she wanted to help someone else? If she was an unambiguously good person who suffered for doing the right thing or even just a morally gray thing? Wouldn't that make Gabriel's quest feel more righteous and less like a temper tantrum by a rich, entitled white guy who used his wealth in a morally dubious manner and paid for it?

The Sentiplot as an Abuse Metephor

I don't think that the writers meant for the sentiplot to be an abuse metaphor. In fact, I sincerely hope they didn't because it's a terrible one! Or, at least, a depressing one.

Abuse - especially childhood abuse - is something that sticks with us. A lot of victims will be forever scared by what they went through. But just because they bare scares doesn't mean that they're trapped by their abuse and can never break free. This is true even if the abuse caused mental health issues like PTSD or CPTSD, conditions that can never be cured because you know what they can be? Controlled and mitigated to the point where the victim is no longer ruled by their condition.

There's also the fact that abuse victims - especially child abuse victims - can and often do reach a point where their abusers no longer have any power over them. I have personally seen a child abuse victim go thought the process of realizing that their parent is just another adult now. All the power that the parent once held is gone. The child doesn't depend on them for food and shelter anymore. If the abuse starts up again, then the child can just get up and walk away.

That's not true for a sentimonster. Sentimonsters don't grow up and get more agency/power. At any point, their abuser can get ahold of their amok and override their free will, taking away the sentimonster's freedom even if the sentimonster is on another continent! There is no means of true escape.

No abuse victim will ever be that powerless. Abuse victims can escape abuse and they do have true free will. Sentimonsters will always be sentimonsters.

Is the Sentiplot Good?

No. It's too serious for a kids show. In fact, now that it's canon, here's my two cents: all of the sentikids are massive liabilities to the team who need to give up their miraculouses immediately because they can never be truly trusted. Felix has shown us time and time again how easy it is to steal an amok and replace it with a fake, so we must always assume that the sentikids are compromised because to assume otherwise is to invite the miraculouses to fall into the wrong hands. It's just not worth the risk to trust a senti.

Along the same lines, the love square should never be canon unless Marinette gives up Guardianship because Adrien is a liability to the safety of the miraculouses even if he didn't wield on himself. The only way to get around this issue is to use the wish to make the sentikids human, but Gabe failed to even do that one kindness for his son, so here we are. Season six will either drive this point home by having Lila use the amoks to mess with Adrien or it will drop the sentiplot forever, proving just how cheap and poorly thought out it was.

Other issues I think I've already addressed in other posts, but that are still a problem that make the plot bad:

a sentimonster's creator defines the sentimonster's worth, thus there being no issue with Felix making sentimonsters and then killing them or the heroes destroying them, but it would somehow be wrong if we did the same thing to any of the sentikids

any command you give a sentimonster can be overwritten and sentimonsters can't resist even if they know they're being controlled, so there's truly no hope to free them

giving your leading lady anxiety issues and a boyfriend whose free will is constantly in jeopardy is cruel and unusual punishment

an insane number of lore issues like why is it impossible to destroy other sentimonsters, but Adrien can be destroyed in akuma fights? Cataclysms are pure destruction! It makes no sense that akumas can do what a cataclysm can't. And is Adrien able to die a natural death? What happens to his amok when he does? Will his children be able to be controlled by his amok too since they're part of him?

the lore around Gabe & Emilie finding the miraculous makes no sense and should not be possible. That's another rant, though.

[houndfaker]

I really think the ship is cute I've been messaging my friends about it!

How does Elise react when Kotone describes the situation in her world... And perhaps the members of Team Sonic?

THAT MAKES ME SO HAPPY TO HEAR AW LOL ive gotten super unhinged about it super fast so seeing the enthusiasm for it really means the world 🥺

this is a bit of a tricky question because i think it depends on Which point in p3’s story that the details come out but ill give the best answer i can

so generally speaking (partially for the sake of how i want things to pan out) i actually don’t imagine team sonic getting too deeply involved with kotone; she knows them and is friends with them for sure! but im not sure she’d confide in them about all the stuff going on with her, at least not beyond a vague explanation about how the whole persona thing works. even with that in mind, though, i think they, or at the very least sonic himself, can gather that she’s got a lot on her shoulders. being sonic, he’s pretty loose about it, but he encourages her where he can. he knows what it’s like.

elise on the other hand i think is someone that insists on carrying the weight of kotone’s problems with her if she can

(sidebar: since this is post-06 being deleted from the timeline, i imagine that although she doesn’t remember what happened, the Feeling of what she learned from the time she spent with sonic sticks with her and so elise is a much more emboldened person when she meets kotone; it’s a little bit of why the comics ive been doodling center around a lot of elise making spontaneous moves where she’s honest with how she feels)

if we’re going by earlier on, i think it’s a bit run of the mill to elise even if the concept of tartarus and the dark hour are rather whimsical. kotone and her friends are essentially parallel to the heroes of elise’s reality; those who fight back against the mad genius doctor eggman and his droves of mischievous machines are like sees who fight back against these ‘shadows’ that prowl the night. i think a big point of attachment between them is that she and kotone are both in serious leadership positions as teenagers.

and if we’re going by ‘post-ryoji explaining the end of all things’, although it takes quite a bit of time to get kotone to the point where she feels comfortable enough to unload any of her baggage on a single other person she cares so much for, i feel the mounting stress of the approaching fall of humanity all but forces her to come clean because she just can’t hold onto it all by herself anymore, she doesn’t Want to for once in her life. she thinks elise has a right to know as one of the few people in her life whos aware of What she does when the clock strikes 12.

and, understandably, elise feels…helpless. again, these phantom emotions from a timeline that’s been wiped, where she faces the end of a world and the fear that someone she cares so much about will be lost forever. there’s some of that desperate selfishness elise has shown briefly in the past, the idea that maybe kotone can bring the people of tatsumi port through her warp ring and let them seek refuge in soleanna. save a small portion of that world, at least, from what sounds like certain doom. but she knows it’s an absurd idea. and kotone can’t see it as anything but running away when she wants to fight harder than ever before.

elise would have to contend with her overwhelming need to protect kotone, that gnawing in her heart making her want to cling and never let go, keep the same devastating thing she can’t seem to remember (the loss of sonic, the loss of her Memories with sonic) from happening to her a second time. she’d have to accept that kotone is going to fight the world’s end no matter what. even if it costs her life. it’s so unfair. but it’s also part of what made her fall in love with that girl. she wants to fight for their lives so badly that she’d challenge the supposed inevitable.

that’s all ill say for now i think 🙏 i hope it’s a decent answer haha ive been thinking about these two really really hard

[revivisection]

Ohhh - definitely homeworld and origin! Just.. where did they come from, what was it like, how did they end up where they are? I'm also always intrigued what the RT's triumph and darkest hour looked like if there's lore on those 👀 - @vossn

cosmas time woooo cosmas time. disclaimer my understanding of the setting does not go far past the one video game i played. also my understanding of cosmas is constantly evolving soooo you never know. shit might change. i don’t make things up everything comes to me in visions sent by the emperor and sometimes there are addendums

cosmas, born with some other name he’s long since discarded, was meant to be a voidsman doing maintenance in the lower decks of a merchant vessel until the day he died. he started working as a child, made to do whatever it was that could be quickly and cheaply solved by getting a kid to crawl into it. genuinely i don’t know, but i’ve decided to put him in some chimney-sweep ass situations. of course when he got too tall he was moved to other tasks. i like to think that he’s kind of short for a voidborn but a regular amount of tall to everyone else lol.

when he was a teenager there was a mutiny on the ship, it started elsewhere but spread. the details are unimportant, whether there was warp influence or not is also unimportant. there’s some sort of revolt and power struggle storyline that ends in everyone being doomed there but like. cosmas does not have that context. all he knows is that people are getting killed, and his youth and innocence wont save him. so he hides in the tight in between spaces he's intimately familiar with (though it's harder now) and takes some of the younger kids with him, assuming a leader role as the oldest. he’s terrified, but they’re more terrified, so he just has to force that down. and, well, there’s something to being looked to as the “adult” in charge with a “plan”.

a navy ship finds the deteriorating merchant ship and cleans up the place a bit. they can’t immediately do anything about the ship itself or most of the cargo it’s holding, but they take some of the survivors (and condemn the rest), dropping them off at a nearby hiveworld to be made useful again to the imperium. no details rn on the planet or the name even… i asked my warhammer knowing friend about it once n he was like yeah man just make shit up, so one day i’ll get around to the cosmas homeworldbuilding. most of them are separated, cosmas never finds out what happens to them (except for one). while it’s better than a dying ship this new place still proves to be awful, he feels as if he was saved just to be discarded again. he’s placed in a factory for a while, but he’s not a very good little worker bee and ends up in the city’s underhive, taking the one kid he came here with that he didn’t lose. very responsible. her name’s damira, she ends up becoming his sister and right hand, she’s alsoooo an unsanctioned psyker, but she’s mostly just a concept rn. i’ll make her real one day… she’s cooking verrry slowly in the oven.

their best (and only) bet is joining one of the many gangs that are all trying to kill each other. he wants to survive, yes, but it isn’t his only goal. upward mobility is hard but not impossible down here, and the moment the possibility is presented to him he wants it, badly. he does a lot of things over a lot of time, takes on different jobs, roles, identities, bounces around allegiances and narrowly avoids death daily until he finally has enough leverage to seize control of an operation. i don’t know how he does it, he’s the smart one, not me. it grows from there. he and damira try to bring some sort of order to the place, it’s enough to make the people above them in the hive antsy. his gender also transes sometime when he’s like, trying to make it big or whatever. you see a lot of guys, some of them make you go “i want to be that” (whether you’ve realized you’re a man yet or not), and there isn’t much stopping him from just doing it. it takes a while before he finally settles on cosmas, after the universe itself. maybe they have a st cosmas too idk.

so technically he has two homeworlds, i just pick voidborn in game and applying all the traits of another one with toybox seems like too much of a hassle. it’s not like there’s any reactivity with it. i don’t have any lore for his triumph, but i did construct his backstory around it. apex of brilliance, he’s got his claws in a whole star system, i guess i didn’t even really need to figure out a way to get him planetside, i just wanted to.

his darkest hour is shadow of torment i literally love the shadow of torment so much every time there’s a bit of reactivity in the game with it i grin evilly and clap and cheer like yaaayyyyy. shoutout to torment. idk how far into the timeline it happens or the circumstances leading up to it but his arrest should happen at a good point for optimum embarrassment. L + cringe + i can’t believe they fucking got you. law enforcement normally ignores the underhive but he's breached containment far enough for them to start caring. his interrogation is ostensibly for questioning, but really it’s one big humiliation ritual. he comes out of that with new problems, worse pre-existing problems, and significantly less fingers. he’s far more closed off, brushes it off like he’s fine while he’s tunnelling like crazy making revenge plans. there’s a kind of white hot humiliation he gets when things remind him a little too much of the torture, when he starts feeling sick and instinctively braces for pain. guy who does not know what ptsd is and will never go to therapy. his constant need to assert himself and control the situation is exacerbated. everyone knows what happened to him, and he needs to prove that he’s still capable.

he also becomes rather touch averse, he doesn’t like being on the receiving end but he also does a lot of touching. an “i can touch you but you can’t touch me” type deal. helps that his prosthetic fingers lack sensation. for a while i thought his fingers were cut off but i came across a video on the thumbscrew once so now they got crushed by clamp <3 funnily enough his thumbs were spared from the thumbscrew. i really like his metal fingers (a decision made by tumblr poll) but i think i need to give them a bit of a better design.

i don’t know how long it is between the darkest hour and the start of the game, but evidently his deny, lash out, dissociate strategy worked because he’s still doing it.

his back tattoos refer to his triumph and darkest hour :) he has the planets of his star system running down his spine, and got the ten of swords reversed after recovering from torture. i know there’s the emperor’s tarot which is different, but who knows, wherever he’s from can have some old world tarot imagery. as a treat. his design is chronically unfinished to me because i want to give him more tattoos but man it’s actually so fucking hard. i’ll figure it out one day. cosmas has come to me fully formed yet unrefined, and i’ve been slowly chipping away at him over time.

so that’s my cosmas backstory. i simultaneously know everything and nothing. thumbs up and subscribe 👍

[plottingdaisies]

Dear Mrs. Cooper,

I was suprised to get a letter from someone from my mama's hometown. What with my family's rather sordid history there.

You do know what they say about me, right?

I was born of the union of my poor earthly mama and the Devil himself. They say he came to her in the wee twilight hours, promising a life away from toiling in the dirt and living off naught but rice and beans for her meals. They say mama took Old Scratch up on his offer to escape granddaddy's moonshine rages and grandmama's weeping spells, and in so doing, my mama, God rest her poor soul, doomed your little town proper.

That's what they say.

Some of them that's less spiritually inclined think pop was just a coal man, maybe even a railroad big wig looking to take up what land he could get his pristine, blood- covered hands on any way he could get it. The story changes based on whose mouth it comes from. Others take with the story that mama made a pact with Satan to save her own hide and leave the rest to rot by the wayside. The details are hazy, but all of them still spit after they say her name, like it tastes bad.

Well, they ain't all wrong. But they ain't all right, neither.

Don't know how he got his money. Could have been mining,  but there's an awful lot of iron that gets pulled from the ground in these parts for his kind's comfort. I thought settling mama's affairs was complicated, but dealing with his particulars is likely to send me to an early grave. In more ways than one.

That's the thing about it. What they don't say, don't know or don't care to know is that the matter is a little more complicated than that. Pops wasn't exactly human, but he wasn't the Devil himself, neither. Fond of games of chance he was, his shadow always looked wrong, like he was a good two feet taller than he actually was. His eyes reflected lantern light like a cougar in the night. He was just as dangerous too. But he wasn't the Devil. There's more than just God and the Devil out there, you know?

Mama didn't know any better. She didn't know anything other than good and bad men existed until much too late.

Ain't that the way of things? There's a perfectly good monster right there in the family portrait to blame for the state of things, but the finger gets pointed at the seventeen year old desperate not to suffer another beating, half starved, and in great need. Why blame the devil in disguise for using his tricks on a naive teenager when you can blame the woman? It's easier than looking someone who can fight back in his unnatural gleaming eyes. Imagine the kind of punch ol' Tennessee Phillips could pack and you can understand why it's easier to pick on little Edie Puck.

Not like she can come and speak in her own defense, anyhow. Well, not in the usual way. And no, not like them Fox sisters used to get up to back in the old days. I wasn't around then, but that medium business is all bunk. There's ways to talk to the dead, but it ain't pleasant. And it don't look like shaking tables and gauze shoved in your unmentionables.

It might not even be pop's fault that shit's gone sideways there, you know? From the outside, it looks like every other small town right now. There's even bread lines in the big city, if you believe the dreck they print in the papers.

But ... well, if what you say is true, it may very well be that daddy dearest left his mark on the town in more ways than stealing Edie away in the dark of the night. And it doesn't sit right with me to just leave it up to chance that what you're describing is just coincidence. The timing is peculiar, and knowing my luck, this falls under the particulars of managing dear old dad's estate, in a manner of speaking.

All of that being said, if you read all of that and still think it's a good idea to have the "Spawn of Satan" come and look into the frightening happenings around town, I'll come. Words don't hurt me none, but it won't do to put the good name of you and your husband at risk when you might be better off hiring a night guard at the farm to scare off the local hoodlum children.

If knowing that old bastard left me more than just his name don't dissuade you from hiring my services, and if knowing you're sure to get some sideways looks, especially from old Jody's kin, don't bother you, then I'll come look at things. Save your money. All I need's two square meals and a cot in the shed. Send your reply to the same address, and I'll be on my way before the next new moon.

Kindest regards, Tenny Puck-Phillips Supernatural Private Investigator

[stillafanofsonic]

@boombrothersasks felt inspired ~_~

-

Shadow couldn't move.

Now that Eclipse had been turned into a toddler (He was furious with Tails for letting this happen) the little darkling needed an afternoon nap. And he wouldn't nap if he wasn't being held. Shadow had found that out the hard way when he tried to put him down and Eclipse started screaming.

So here Shadow was, sitting near the mouth of the cave and staring out into the wilderness, with a baby darkling snuggled up into his chest fur. With one hand covering him, because otherwise Eclipse would start to shiver.

Letting out a sigh, Shadow glared at a passing bird. This whole situation was a mess. But it did give him time to think.

Ever since Black Doom had announced himself, he occasionally haunted Shadow's dreams. Not to tell him anything important, but more like he was seeing what was going on. Last night, it had been enough for Shadow to make contact and his father ran as fast as he could when he heard the news.

It was clear, he wasn't coming back. Except to just stick his nose in, laugh at the situation and then leave without being any help.

Eclipse was never going back to him.

Looking down at his sleeping brother, Shadow knew he'd have to tell him. Not now, because he'd probably cry for a full hour. But it didn't mean that the regular, teenage version of his little brother wouldn't take it any better.

In his mind, Shadow imagined his brother's golden eyes filling with tears, having to face the horrible news that he had been thrown away, that he wasn't wanted anymore.

Shadow felt his chest clench as he realized he was all that Eclipse had anymore. What a cruel and stupid joke was being played on both of them.

But for now, the tiny darkling just slumbered on, peaceful and content. One tiny hand clutched a handful of fur, a smile etched across his muzzle.

How could Shadow tell him? How could he break news so awful and terrible? It wasn't like Eclipse was sitting at the mouth of the cave every morning waiting for him... But... He did think his father was coming back. He trusted that he would.

Curse Black Doom for not being brave enough to actually say it to Eclipse's face. He could only say it in a dreamscape, where he could flee at any moment.

Gently, Shadow reached out with his other hand and stroked the side of Eclipse's face. "He's not coming back..." He mumbled, soft enough so it didn't disturb him. "He doesn't want you anymore."

That was a cruel thing to say... but it was also true. Should he actually tell his brother that when he actually told him? Was it better to say a comforting lie or a hard truth?

Feelings were complicated. This whole situation was complicated. It made Shadow growl, wanting to set Eclipse down and go attack something. But he couldn't. So he continued to sit there.

"But you won't even miss him," Shadow continued, taking care not to raise his voice, even though he wanted to. The emotions running through his body were a current of energy, begging to be released. "We'll be so busy, you'll forget all about him. I promise. You won't even need him anymore."

The hedgehog wasn't sure how he could promise that, but looking down at the little creature sprawled across his chest, it made sense. He might have been a mess himself, but he was going to try, the best he could for his brother.

And for now, that meant making sure he was fed, comforted and kept warm. As much as the little darkling annoyed him, it was what he deserved. As much as Shadow hated to admit it, he knew that much.

And as soon as Eclipse woke up, Shadow was storming over to Tails' workshop to demand to know why a cure for this was taking so damn long.

[greywoodrpg]

𝕒𝕧𝕖𝕣𝕪 𝕘𝕣𝕒𝕧𝕖𝕤-𝕞𝕠𝕠𝕣𝕖

he was born thirty-four years ago, is a werewolf, lives in white oaks as a music producer and private guitar lessons teacher, and is in no pack. he looks an awful lot like rory culkin.

"I'm living like a landmine Waiting to explode I'm ticking like a time bomb Ready to go I'm a danger to myself and everybody else."

tw: abandonment, anger issues, bullying, violence, alcohol, car accident, hit and run, attack, injury, hospital

Avery was left in his biological father and his husband's care when he was only a baby, being the result of a one night stand, Avery's mom never felt like she was fit for the role and so she tracked Avery's dad down and left the baby with him. Avery lived a very happy childhood making no distinction between his biological father and his partner, to Avery they were both dad, both his own flesh and blood. Despite this, there was always something troubling the boy, he was loved, cared for, yes, but in a way, he felt unwanted, because he could never understand his mother's actions, and the fact she never tried looking for him, check on how he was doing, even after many years, refusing any contact left Avery with this opened wound he hasn't been able to fully close. It was when he reached his teenage years the problems began, while Avery was always a sweet, kind person, he also struggled with impulse control and anger issues, due to the never knowing his mother and her side of the family, but also this being something that runs in the family as his father struggled with the same problems. Avery would get in fights at school he couldn't stand being bullied and would never back down when someone was not nice to him, also defending those who were bullied, though mostly this was an excuse to let some of the rage out. Avery's parents did their best to help him trough this issues, while one would sit down and talk to him, teaching how do deal with all those feelings, the other would help him find a way to gain more control of those impulses trough music... and that's how Avery fell even harder for it, latter becoming a music producer and playing guitar in a friend's band. So, his life was pretty good, Avery felt he had enough with his many friends and family, he was happy, and then...one night...everything changed... It was after a band's performance, Avery had a little more to drink than usual, which lead him to notice someone, and while he never really cared much for a relationship, love, sex, had honestly never been something that present in his life, there was something about this girl, he couldn't tell what, but Avery found himself agreeing to spend the night with her... on the way to her home an accident happened... they hit something with the car, Avery couldn't just allow her to keep driving and let whatever it was to die on the side of the road so he got out of the car to check. And that's what doomed him... He didn't had time to check what was the animal they hit, something come running out of the woods, something big...next thing he knows, the beast is on top of him, Avery feels claws, and teeth and...the car rushing away, she left him, she left him to die... He doesn't know what happened, who found him, all that Avery remembers is waking up in the hospital, his parents worried sick by his bedside... And Avery's body began to change... he couldn't explain what was happening, his senses were sharper, noises were hurting his ears and the rage...oh the rage...it was just too much to keep in... After a fight with his dad turned violent, Avery knew he needed to go, seek help, he had just hurt one the men he loved the most in the whole world, he was changing, becoming something he didn't like, he hurt his family! The rage was taking over and it felt not even working on his music was helping, not like before. So Avery left, to work on himself and figure out what he was becoming...living in Greywood for the past month helped him figure out what was happening, and now Avery hopes to find others like him, others that can help him gain the control over his powers he needs. Because there's no way he's coming back to his family and risk hurting them again... Or even wrose...

“what power did he attain when settling in greywood?”

None.

penned by... sandy

[killthefuhkinglights]

[page transcription below]

Apparently Frank Iero Is Not Okay.

For the ultimate test of My Chemical Romance's seemingly inescapable ubiquity, stay tuned to MySpace pages and message boards everywhere. When XØ- the debut from MCR guitarist Frank Iero's hardcore-punk side project LeATHERMOUTH- reaches the masses, you'll surely start seeing a gazillion comments from teenage girls raving, "OMG! Frank is sooooo hot! I love LeATHERMOUTH!" Were this record the product of just about anyone not involved with MCR, you could safely wager that most of said fans would run away from XØ as fast as humanly possible with their fingers wedged in their ears.

LeATHERMOUTH, who officially consist only of Iero on vocals and Rob Hughes on guitar, specialize in a particularly punishing form of hardcore that combines sludgy doom metal and harsh grindcore, topped off by Iero's ferocious screams and often twisted, eye-brow raising lyrics. Speed and fury are the name of the game here, and thus none of the album's 10 tracks break the three-minute mark (the disc's total running time is just over 21 minutes). While LeATHERMOUTH certainly aren't reinventing the wheel, songs with names like "I Am Going To Kill The President Of The United States Of America" and "Your Friends Are Full Of Shit" are far from dull. XØ's sheer brutality and shock value alone make the record the complete anti-My Chem experience, a perfect soundtrack for driving around with a corpse stashed in your trunk. (EPITAPH, epitaph.com) Brendan Manley

In-Store Session WIth Vocalist Frank Iero

LeATHERMOUTH are your forum to vent. What's got you so angry?

Just everyday life, and things that affect us that people want to pretend doesn't exist: feelings of isolation and depression, and the way the world is going. There are other things too: "Catch Me If You Can" is based on the letters written by Jack the Ripper. It's basically about cutting up girls, which is always fun. [Laughs] A lot of the songs seem to be about killing girls.

What's the story behind "5th Period Massacre"?

Kids are killing each other in school, and people are very quick to condemn the entertainment industry, or the parents or the kids themselves, who must be "off." I'm not saying those aren't some of the reasons, but no one talks about the little fucking prick who calls the kid a "faggot" or beats him up every day, so he sees no way out other than going home and getting his father's gun.

How about "Sunsets Are For Muggings"?

It's about going to see my psychiatrist. Every appointment I had was at night, around sunset. It's about taking all the pills to make yourself better, yet never feeling normal, and knowing that everything you're saying is going in one ear and out the other. I've definitely had to deal with mental illness in my family; that's a very personal thing that I deal with on a daily basis. "Sunsets" is my way of saying that no one is looking out for you but yourself, and you have to consider that no one fucking cares.

Will teenage girls who are into My Chem be horrified?

That's the funny part. "Catch Me If You Can" for example, has some pretty harsh lyrics about women. The last half of the song says, "A gift from God doing the Devil's crimes/I'll set shit right one whore at a time." Watching a good handful of little girls singing that line with you is a little weird, and really fucking funny. The things that make me laugh are things that are horrendously awful, [like] people falling down or getting attacked by animals. If I can have girls singing back about cutting themselves up or setting themselves on fire, that's pretty much a good show.

Some people will say, "My Chem is huge. What's this guy's problem?"

There are a million things I can say are great about my life, and a million things that really fucking suck. I can't explain why I have a problem with depression or anxiety; I don't know, and nobody can tell me why, either. I just do what I can to stay sane on a daily basis, and [LeATHERMOUTH] are one of those things that help me, getting it all out on a record, and playing shows. The first tour we did was really refreshing, exhausting and cathartic, and I wasn't pissed off anymore. Now that I've been home for a while, all that hate has built up again, and I think I need to do a couple more shows. [BM]

Alternative Press, In-Store Session interview with Frank Iero on LeTHERMOUTH's album XØ

[lakesbian]

General thoughts about the reveal on who the Maggie in the Toronto arc was?

Also general thoughts on the arc?

i think its fun that she and blake are both connected (& she's the last tether blake has to anyone knowing he exists) via having both slipped through the cracks due to Whoopsie-Daisies. also say what u will about literally everything else in wb's writing but i like how girls in wildbow novels are more often than not grungy and a little weird. already talked abt the goblin thing some in the last maggiepost but i do really like the goblins. "pure distillations of the dirty abandoned scraps of the world which exist solely to kick you when you're down" is an extremely coherent and fun spin on goblins. the constant "fat = gross" associations are insufferable but the rest is solid. the padraic thing isn't one of the iterations of maggie's prophecy but it does feel fitting for her character that the girl who was initially inducted into being a practitioner via living somewhere that was slipping thru the cracks was fucked over for a Second time via slipping thru the cracks. i hope she is fucked over a Third time by it for rule of three. also i was in fact correct previously when i said this:

i also think she’s probably still in over her head without realizing. she’s manipulated into ordering someone’s murder and then is like “you know i think i can make up for this one AND go on a fun little adventure to add to my scrapbook of knowledge at the same time.” that’s not how reality works! you killed someone! and then tried to semi-earnestly befriend slash mooch from their cousin! she’s only been a practitioner for six months–i think there’s a very fundamental disconnect btwn the maggie that’s lucky enough to still have parents she can be a normal silly teenager with and the maggie that’s making forays into The World Of Backstabbing, Horror, Murder, and Fates Worse Than Death. and i think that disconnect will result in strain for her as the fact that she’s sort of doomed to do some really awful things, have some really awful things happen to her, and/or both sinks in.

except instead of just Strain. that fact had to sink in via her doing, as sandra put it, the magical equivalent of crashing a car 2 learn respect for the road. YA protagonist maggie holt died in the crash now it's just wannabe goblin queen mags scrambling 4 purchase in the wreckage. i believe in her i hope she captures sooo many crass little creatures. i'm glad that buttcheeks stuck around he's fun to watch :)

i don't feel like we actually know johannes yet. the thing about the really successful practitioners is that they're doing less Desperate Violent Scrabbling to maintain their positions and subsequently have more luxury of ostensible niceties and lofty philosophies. they should throw a bucket of mud on him and toss him to the wolves so i can see what he's like when shit gets real. also the entire arc is a really funny demonstration in how severely being a thorburn has fucked blake over. everyone is sooo much nicer to maggie than him he's out there playing on hard mode. this is what i mean when i say that alec would b a diabolist, diabolism is fundamentally abt when you are marked Rotten by the world by virtue of the family you've been born into, defined more by their legacy than by anything about yourself, even moreso than the other brands of practitionerism.

hmm anything else. oh yeah i think we should flog wildbow for crone mara. ok thats all. OH yeah and Not Being Maggie Holt Anymore is a really funny way to skip out on the other iterations of the prophecy. its that fairy bitch's problem now. i have a lot of thoughts on pact faeries but that's a post for one of the "why are pact creatures good" asks just know i'm rotating them in my mind rapidly