#and there’s too many difficult things I have to do between now and then and I need him here

[scummy-writes]

Living with a Ghost: Gilbert

A Fanfic and HC post

Tags: Slight angst, ghostbert, modern au for the mc.

If you enjoy this, please let me know! I may consider doing this with more characters, under the same premise.

There was always a catch. You swore to yourself that you had just been paranoid at the time because for once, for once, something good was happening in your spiraling life. A taste of joy that you were clutching tight in your hands, trying to wish away the faults that could be hidden within.

An apartment. Affordable, so affordable, and in great care. No shitty ‘landlord’ specials were hidden about the premises, the view was alright, you weren’t crazy about the buildings around you, but how can you argue with the perfect reading nook right at the window? You knew all you had to do was ignore the way too nice corporate building and focus on the sky beside it to accept the view.

Small, but not cramped. A perfect size for you. Away from frustrating family and previous roommates, away from the town you struggled in endlessly. A brand new start.

And. Well. A ghost.

The first night you slept there, betwist a flurry of boxes and makeshift furniture, nothing… really happened. Maybe a few small things had been moved around, but honestly that could have just been you misremembering where you put things in your initial moving exhaustion.

You could have sworn that you hadn't opened your box of books due to the fact that your bookshelves weren't even put together yet, but you also would use books to lull you asleep , so... It wasn't out of the question that an exhausted version of you blearily searched for a comfort between pages, before passing out on an unsheeted mattress.

Second night, a glass shattered. So out of the blue in the silence as you read that you ended up clapping the book shut when you jumped. You peered around the corner with a broom in hand brandished as a weapon, only to find a mess of broken glass, and nothing more. You kept explaining it away as perhaps there was a lean on the counter, but you didn't remember leaving a glass out to begin with..

Smaller instances kept happening in a similar fashion, until it all culminated into an event you couldn't explain away, because no matter how much you tried, you couldn't deny what you saw.

In it's core, it wasn't as dramatic as chairs or knickknacks floating through the halls, or blood written on the walls. It was simple, really - a figure behind you in the mirror. One that didn't fade away no matter how much you blinked, nor rubbed at your eyes- no, in fact, when you did so, he laughed at you. Mockingly.

And what does a person do when faced with such blatant proof of some supernatural phenominon existing in front of them? Well... They kept in mind how difficult it was to find an apartment at this price, and the stubborness they wield.

Your first method was simply ignoring him - which... seemed successful at first. A couple of weeks containing peaceful silence, until you were greeted by your living room - full of books and memorabilia - overturned completely. Nothing broken, somehow, but enough of a clear How Dare You for ignoring him. Once that had been 'resolved' through many curses from you and what sounded like ghostly laughter, you met face to face with your spector roommate. Well. As much as you could see, anyway.

He sat at your kitchen island as if he belonged there, smiling as you paused in the entryway. Seeing a ghost in the morning light was an oddity. In contrast to his dark clothing - a grey button up it seemed, along with black slacks - the light behind him showed how he wasn't truly opaque. If you weren't careful, you could lose bits of him to your surroundings.

"Come now, don't act as if you can't see me now. You'd be doing both of our intelect a disservice."

Carefully, you sat across from him, trying to keep from staring too intently.

"There we go. I'm growing tired of our cat and mouse games - I suppose this is where we can meet each other halfway." He spoke breezily, as if this was such a normal occurance for you, before narrowing his eyes slightly, "I won't be answering any trivial questions about my... abilities."

"But... What about your intent?" You attempted to relax your shoulders, but found yourself crossing your hands instead, "You keep breaking things, or making loud noises - "

"If I wanted to kill you, I would have done so by now." A pause, and then a sigh, almost a mutter, "I dislike being ignored, little rabbit."

"Little...rabbit?"

He ignored your questioning, straightening up his posture. Serious, but his smile didn't match up with his eyes. "For every question I answer for you, you will answer two of mine."

"Wait-"

"I can always test my abilities with othr objects - you seem to fancy that big, black window in your living area."

You paused, trying to match up the description with - "My TV? You... Oh, you're much older than I thought."

...

In the hours of sitting at that kitchen island together, it's there you learn many facts about him, while he learns too many about you.

He's able to give you the exact years he lived, with more of an assumption of his death. Despite his form, his memory is crisp and solid until it comes to the exact date of his death, but he doesn't seem to mind...?

He toys with the empty cup in front of him - a habit, getting drinks for those you talk to - but focuses entirely on you when you reveal more about yourself.

He pressures you to divulge random things after the basics of details of this current decade and similar - hobbies, interests, small morality tests. He seems to be searching for answers to something, but it's difficult to suss out.

Once night crosses the threshold, his form glistens in some areas, fades with the dark in others. His red eye stares at you expectantly, before sighing dramatically.

"Guess we're now 'room mates'... or whatever it is you called it."

Gilbert has been dead since his original timeframe. His heart condition was what tore him away from his time.

It wasn't unexpected. It came when busy, of course, and he remembers it vaguely due to the amount of pain and brainfog he had at the time.

His most prominant thought from that moment was the lamenting of never meeting his 'little rabbit' on the terms he had wished for. She knew nothing of him past the horror stories, and while it seemed apt and fitting, he had at least wanted to know if she had read his book...

He can't remember the early years of his ghost form, or so he says. He won't divulge to you the way it felt to know he would be stuck watching time go on, the hard work he spent his life achieving to amount to nothing, as it repeated again and again.

How he watched the two closest to him weep in private. How their lives changed even without him there to attempt to maintain them. How he was stuck with limitations on how far he could go, with no hope of moving on.

The years blurred together, centuries passing as he remained enfixed to specific locations, watching it all change listlessly, until his present matched closer to yours.

Apartments were odd, he had decided. The tennants were rare, as he often scared them off when they proved annoying. He was ready to do the same to you until he got a glimpse of how you looked.

it was as if his 'little rabbit' had been reborn. Did he believe in reincarnation? He didn't, no, but given his ghostly form, a gaping hole in his chest pleaded for it. Even just a little. At odds with his inherent skepticism.

But what was the point in attempting to bridge a connection if you were weakwilled?

So he scared you. multiple times. How else was he going to test bringing forth the effort of talking to you? It wouldn't matter if you ran off in the end.

So when you didn't, stubbornly ignoring him as if he was a cat looking for attention, he decided a talk was worth it after all.

It didn't take long for his heart to clench, despite how annoyed it made him. You were nearly the same in many ways, and the parts that didn't add up were likely due to the times.

More visits. More tests. More and more discussions. You started calling him 'Gil'. His heart felt again for the first time in what felt like eons, and he despised it.

What was he doing? He'd have to watch you pass just as he did Roderic and Walter. You'd be gone with nothing left behind for him, and the world would keep spinning.

But...

Was it such a terrible thing to enjoy the moment?

You were learning his moods. He was learning your schedule. You didn't open discussions directly, but deliberately left space for him to sit by you.

Some nights, when ill, you even pathetically called for his company. For him to grab you water from the kitchen, or pills from wherever you left them.

And just as pathetically, he entertained it. Over and over again, until there was the routine of 'sleeping' together.

No matter how much his heart yearned for it, there was no warmth shared between you. His 'body' chilled you at any point of contact. Your touch went through him in fleeting sensations. There would always be a wall neither of you could breech.

But it wasn't in his nature to give up from that alone, was it?

I'm not sure why I wrote this. We looked at prompts back when I used to stream my writing, and it led to me thinking about ghostbert, and wanting a situation kinda similar to the ghost situation in Angel. (If you don't know the show.... i can't recommend it. But scary ghost becomes domesticated roommate for a character.)

it's all over the place, it was originally supposed to be 6 paragraphs and the rest be concise, clear, bulletpoints, but I couldn't stop trying to fill in nonexistant gaps, and here we are. this doesnt feel complete to me, but none of my posts ever are. i put them out to stop writing on them and to be free from my sins once more.

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[jadetheblueartist]

Hi Jade!!!

I excitedly invite you to info dump about your TMNT iteration! If there’s anything you want to share, I’d love to know more!!

I WILL DO SO GLADLY. This will be a bit of a lengthy one but let’s do thiiiiiiisssssss

Let’s start with

Splinter

The main overarching concept of this iteration is that Splinter is a villainous guy who raised the turtles accordingly. In a manner similar to 2018’s Draxum, Splinter has a great distaste for humans and sees them as a genuine threat to the yokai. As a rat yokai himself who’s had several bad experiences with humans and has uncovered disturbing mystic prophecies, he has concluded that the only way to protect his kind is to destroy humanity (or at least bring them under his control).

Due to a series of various circumstances, Splinter finds five mysterious turtle yokai children in a lab in the hidden city. Seeing his opportunity to raise warriors for his cause, he takes them with him and flees the hidden city. Now as a wanted criminal among the yokai and a terrifying monster among the humans, he hides out in the sewers between both worlds. As the years go by, he trains the five turtles in the art of ninjitsu and the mystic, never losing sight of his goal. The humans must be eliminated as a threat- no matter the cost.

This would be made more difficult, however, because of the brother that would never stop looking for Splinter but more on that later. Let’s go over the turtles.

Sophie

Sofonisba is the oldest turtle of the bunch. She is the model oldest sibling- protective, responsible, and trying her best to shield her little brothers from her father’s influence. The song “Surface Pressure” from Encanto would easily sum up her struggles, but she’d never want it another way. She’s the strong one, physically and emotionally. While being the literal muscle of the group, she’s also the family therapist that anyone can go to when they need someone. Not that she’s very good with that sort of thing, she’s really not. But she does know how to listen to them. Sophie knows who she is for her family, but is that who she really is? Is there anything outside of this version of her? Now that she really considers it, what are her likes? Her dislikes? Does she even have any hobbies? Who even is she?

Raph

Raphael is the second oldest turtle and the one who’s received the most of his father’s punishments. Raph was a very defiant, argumentative, and loud child, traits that Splinter saw as things to be corrected out of him. After many years, Raph did change. He could be more of his old self when alone with his siblings, but most times he tried to be a blank slate- obedient, passive, quiet. Sometimes the mask would slip and he would be punished swiftly. Sometimes the mask would be so much that he couldn’t remember what it was like without it. Something he comes to realize, though, is that he doesn’t feel nothing. He feels angry. Very very angry. And sooner than later all of his anger will have no where else to go and Raphael will reach a breaking point. But who will he take down with him when he explodes?

Donnie

Donatello, unlike Raph, had always been a quiet boy. He had kept to himself, complied to orders, didn’t complain. He had never minded the training anyway; it gave him something consistent to do, and he was a sucker for a good routine. But then it went on and wasn’t as good. Splinter had become more volatile and would turn his anger on Donnie. Donnie found it nearly impossible to find his words in these moments (which wasn’t great when his father was demanding him to speak). The training got more difficult, the days dragged on, and things began to weigh on him. He simply couldn’t find anything to care about. That is until his twin Mikey suggested something very risky. A secret way to access the internet without father finding out? It was dangerous… but too intriguing for Donnie to pass up (especially if it was for his twin). This was the first time in years Donnie had been this excited about something. He just really hoped their secret would last.

Mikey

Michelangelo was the turtle who resembled his name sake the most. Quite the creative and the only fun one (according to him), Mikey was always getting into mischief aimed at his siblings. If he could convince Dee let him borrow some smoke bombs, even better! But Mikey had a problem. Whenever they would go on missions to the surface, he would always be intrigued by the humans. He had even made secretive contact with some of them (tho he kept it all stealthy so they didn’t know he was a yokai). He especially liked his human cousins, even though he wasn’t supposed to. But he couldn’t hang around with them, they were evil! But maybe, he thought, if he could interact with them on the internet, he wouldn’t feel the need to hang out with them irl. It was a perfect plan. Once Donnie had set them up, he was all over the place. He even met this human girl April who lived in the city above them- how convenient! Mikey didn’t know what to do though; she seemed so nice! But father said that all humans were evil, and he couldn’t go against father. He didn’t know what to do.

Leo

Leonardo, the youngest child, has always been his father’s favorite. Maybe it was his naturally affinity with the katana or their shared dedication and drive, but Leo was always favored by him. That didn’t mean that he had it easy, not by a long a shot. Father was strict with him, but it was for his improvement. Any little misstep can cause the biggest failure and Leo would not be a failure. It was a little difficult sometimes, being under the most scrutiny and having his father’s heaviest expectations. But Leo knew it would all work out. He would be his father’s weapon and help him to defeat the humans. His siblings didn’t understand this greater purpose all of the time. They complained more than Leo, and got distracted with more menial things, but it was okay. His father told him not to tell the others, but Leo had the potential to fulfill the prophecy to destroy the humans. He couldn’t wait. He had times where his father would get upset with him, justifiable at that, but Leo knew that if he could fulfill this prophecy, his father would truly be proud of him. And he would do anything to make this happen-no matter the cost.

April

April was struggling. Her family had moved her a few years ago and she still hadn’t made any friends. None besides her little dog Apollo at least. Sure she was friendly with people, but no one really seemed to get her. It probably didn’t help that social situations made her want to explode and she avoided them like the plague, but nah that’s probably unrelated. She’d much rather spend her time writing her novel, or more realistically, thinking about writing her novel. But it had been three years. Get it together, April! Sure the thought of small talk and making the right amount of eye contact and being an interesting person made her nauseous, but it was important. She really missed having close friends and she was not gonna let this fear stop her! Maybe just delay her a teensy bit. Since talking to people in her real life hadn’t worked out so far, maybe online would be better? It couldn’t hurt to try, right?

Now for the more important relationship dynamics

-Sophie and Raph are quite close. They vibe very well, enjoy training together, and have similar problems that they occasionally disclose with each other (but only a little bc they both hate being vulnerable)

-Mikey and Donnie are close as well. Their twinsieness brings them together and they enjoy causing mischief and having secrets. They’re definitely the two most rebellious in the family, while both being quite smart about it.

-Leo idolizes Solinter and believes he can do no wrong. This will cause some… issues in the future

-Raph is quite resentful of Leo, who is everything Raph tries and fails to be. Raph just wanted his dad’s approval and it tears him up to see his brother getting it.

-Donnie, Mikey, and April are best friends. Donnie and Mikey hype her up and help her out, while April is a bit of a mom friend to them. They’re not used to having someone like that (outside of Soph) but they love her very much.

Saki

Oh and then there’s the man who’s filled to the brim with regret- Splinter’s twin brother Saki. Saki blames himself for what Splinter has become and has dedicated his life to trying to stop Splinter from further ruining his own. He works with the yokai government to try to track him down but it doesn’t avail to much. He and his two kids try to intervene whenever they intersect with splinter and the turtles, but they have yet to get through to them. The blame is eating Saki alive and he can’t do anything about it.

OKAY SO THATS THE INTRO I GUESS RAHHHHH I WILL GO MORE INTO ORIGIN AND SAKI’S FAMILY NEXT TIME AND WHEN I HAVE THEM DRAWN OUT BUT UH YEAH

I have some little character tidbits in the old noggin probably so if you got any specific questions then I might just have an answer :D I also still have noooo clue for a name for this project so uh I’ll just suffer I guess fjdkdkkdkdkd

@banana-pancake5 I believe you wanted to be tagged?

[prodixal]

He will raise his hands in defence, a smile matching the very tone in which she spoke. "What is romance anyway? That you should think it such a luxury?" perhaps her version differed from his, as did seemingly everything else regarding the topic at hand. "Oi --" He shouts, crossing his feet under the chair in response to her kick. And a laugh is fighting its way forward at the words which held not an atom of weight. "Right, yes...your other friends." he winks her way, sipping on the long cup as he nods. "It is just as well. I do not love you either. -- Matter o' fact, I do this kinda thing for strangers too, anyone really...just a casual day for me, y'know in case you were feeling special. Gods forbid."

His grin is uncontrollable, as her words warm every part of his soul with such needed comfort. "Worldly are you? I had no clue brothels were so culturally immersive. Seems I was quick to dismiss them." Her giggle is sweet and it comforts him. He'd enjoyed seeing her this way, even if it was only temporary. It felt like victory of some kind. Like they were not supposed to laugh, to find any time for joy and -- they did anyway. "Keep your secrets temptress. Perhaps I shall seek answers in one of these brothels you are so well versed on." She leans forward, and he follows. Her eyes focus on his, and he lets them. But the question leaves him all but speechless and he'll look away with warm ears and flushed cheeks he could not even blame on the drink which now stood before her. "Uhh..." a nervous laugh, while his hand reaches to scratch the space behind his neck. He cannot quite look at her again, though he does try. "No, no...I do not know." he wishes to be honest, but he also fears judgment and...misunderstanding. "I - well, I -- I suppose sometimes I do long for it. Would be awful glum to experience a decade long winter and a war before a-a kiss." eyes meet hers a moment just then, and he will pull the cup forward. "And yet, I -- well, it just feels uh, feels wrong to desire such a thing."

Admittance did not come with ease, even if his voice was mellow and sweet. Honour required sacrifice. Honour set up clear boundaries for him to follow. Rickon had grown up believing in frameworks of honour, and duty, and discipline. It was all made for his benefit, for everybody's benefit. -- Yet his brothers were honourable, good men, and they disregarded such boundaries with ease. Many good people, honest people, allowed themselves the occasional sin. Perhaps he wanted to do the same. He wanted to be less...rigid, less confined. But, the belief ran deep within him, and for it he was patient, and he had waited. Only now he was beginning to realise that perhaps it had been for nothing. "You are right." he says in agreement, and he lets the jest of it go. "I think I care more to spend time with you than I care for love." perhaps it was not hunting, weaving, or a hobby of any kind, but the gist of it was much the same. Her blunt reply caused his brows to furrow, yet a part of him was inexplicably glad to hear it. He did not wish for the answer to be yes. A smile is difficult to hold back as he looks down to his hands, and a now empty cup. "No." his own reply is not blunt, but it is just as sincere. "I have not." he lets the words hang in the air between them for a moment. And his smile fades as he lets his mind wander and his eyes fix on the way light danced against the metal of the cup, then the reality sets in. She was right, perhaps it was better not to want for such things. "We should go." he says at last, finding her anew with a tired smile. He will push himself backwards from the table, scraping the floor. As they pass by the counter, he will ask for hot water to be delivered, so they may wash the dirt off and prepare for the days road which lay ahead. Once they reach the narrow stairs, he will offer out his hand so they may stay close.

DAENYA CAN'T HELP BUT MEET RICKON'S EYES AT THAT POKE , THE LOOK PLAYFULLY INDIGNANT . she makes a jesting attempt to grab that finger , honest as she simply says , " yes , well , i do not foresee such love for me , mark ." it is a conscious effort to use the name . daeny arches her brows as she inclines her chin , as she shrugs to add , " romance is a luxury that not everyone is afforded ." there is a beat then as daeny refolds her hands before blinking and quickly scoffing at rickon's teasing . despite herself her ears are warm even as she lightly kicks the toe of his boot with her own under the table . " and who said i was speaking of you ?" daenya moves to straighten after the words , raising her chin with a put upon haughtiness to say , " very presumptuous of you . perhaps i am speaking of my other friends ." the glint of playfulness in her eye is still there as she reaches for the pint , as she hums with an air of mystery that is betrayed by the twitch of her lips . " yes , well , i am worldly ." daenya jests in return , before moving to take a sip from the tankard . her head tilts before she adds , " and ten years is a frightfully long time ." she can't smother her smile as rickon continues , and despite herself a giggle escapes her . " i suppose could offer you my own advice but ," a shrug as she puts the pint back down . " we must all have our secrets ." daeny watches as rickon seems to settle , as a sincerity seems to come with it . she can't help but blink in surprise . " oh ." she studies him as he continues , her head tilting as she does , and by the time he's finished it's not a beat before daeny contributes , " well , it quite matters if it weighs on you like this ." if such a matter was enough for rickon of all people to waver , to question , daenya would think it matters quite a bit indeed . for she had met very few with a stronger conviction , with a bigger dedication to honour . she folds her arms on the table again , leans on them to meet his eyes to curiously ask , " ... do you long to experience the things your brothers have ?" her brows arch with the question , and she tries to tread carefully even as she says , " because ... " daenya unfolds one of her hands to fidget with the handle of the pint to say , " ... you can , you know ?" daeny does not want to push . after all , rickon's honour was likely as much a part of him as his own arm and she had no desires to dismiss it . and yet the thought of him having wishes that he was depraving himself of in favour of such honour was difficult for her to reconcile with . after all , daeny is quite sure she's never willingly depraved herself of anything she's wanted . she truly can barely imagine it . she can't help but briefly admire rickon's discipline . " it is an activity !" daeny protests at the sound of his laughter , huffing a laugh before she makes a show of pouting . " fine ! weaving then !" daenya offers with an animated gesture of her hands . " or horseback riding ! all i am saying is that i'm sure some enjoy other things more ." daenya is still distracted with toying with the handle of the pint as she hums at his words , her expression twisting a bit at the lack of answer . but then she is blinking at his question , startled by it enough for her eyes to snap to his . there is a beat before she simply says , " ... no ." the reply is blunt in its sincerity , even if it somehow feels like a defeat . daenya has little regard for love , but admitting her lack of experience with it does feel like admitting that she perhaps hasn't grown much in their ten years apart at all . somehow such a thought makes her wish that rickon might be in the same place ; that he somehow hasn't left her behind in this . so her eyes search his for a moment before she arches a brow to ask , " have you ?"

[cerbreus]

baking never feels more like science to me than when i'm trying to cobble together an intricate multi step recipe together from several different recipes and tutorials online because the recipe I'm imagining doesn't exist....

[the-brainrot-central]

Writing over 30,000 words worth of content for a fic only to realize it’s all pointless because you have no interest in it anymore and you were never gonna finish it anyway….

What even is The Point anymore

[a-high-femme]

oooooh currently crying because it’s now officially my childhood best friend’s birthday! I’m alone in bed and staring out the window which is nothing unusual for me these days but like… tonight it feels wrong because we should be suntired and drinking around the firepit at my parents’ old house, eating cake I baked and trying to be the funnier person and sticky with sand up to our shins and laughing with our friends well past midnight, and we should be exchanging our Christmas gifts on the patio even though it’s the middle of summer because we’re always half a year late with any gifts we give each other. but we have an entire country between us now and our friends don’t talk anymore and our mothers don’t know what happened and I miss being known and loved that well. Evan should be in charge of the fire (but I don’t even know where he is or who he talks to anymore) and Allison should be panicked about coyotes in the woods and gulley (but I can’t call her because I’m about to drop out of grad school for the third time) and Kyle and Katie should be huddled up for warmth (but they’re in separate cities and separate relationships and the last time I saw Kyle was November and the last time I saw Katie was two years ago). and Caleb should be hating that it’s his birthday and that everyone is celebrating it and paying attention to him, and I should be making him smile and wondering how I got so lucky and hating that he’ll have to go home to his house down the street instead of just staying forever (but he’s in LA now and I have no idea where he goes home to or who he goes home to and I only see him when he can afford a flight home). I shouldn’t be spinning and burning out in a cold city on my own, I hate this so so much.

[veinpursuer]

WHERE’S MY FUKING CAPO

[mayakern]

Things are bad right now.

As many of you know, way back in 2020 we weren’t sure if our business was gonna make it. Our factory was already on break for Lunar New Year–a month-long holiday for many businesses in the area–and with the announcement of COVID19, everything shut down indefinitely. We knew immediately we were in for a bad time. Despite our fears, our sales grew so far beyond anything we ever expected, to the point where we had to hire two employees just to keep up with demand! 

Unfortunately, even after our factory reopened, our problems were not over. Their quality drastically declined almost immediately, to the point that a significant amount of our  fabric would literally fall apart in transit between the factory and our office. Because of this, we discovered that our sales rep had no idea what she was doing and knew nothing about the factory she was representing, so when we told her the fabric was garbage her response was “👍 factory said it’s good!” At the beginning, only roughly 10% of our new product was defective and we were able to sell the affected items with a reasonable discount. By the end of our relationship with that factory, 40% of our midi skirts and 70% of our miniskirts were defective, some affected so severely that they practically fell apart when touched. And still, our rep said everything was fine and there were no problems and the fabric composition had not changed.

So in 2022 we changed factories. We hired Ash to handle this since I was way too busy managing fulfillment to do the amount of research and communication necessary to find us a factory that met our criteria. Finding clothing factories that can make clothing over a size 2-3X is significantly more difficult than one that can’t because it often requires larger and more expensive machinery. But Ash did it: she got us set up with a new factory that has excellent certifications for both their labor practices and their methods for textile production, that delivers consistent, high quality sewing on well made fabric that can be printed without suffering loss in detail–and she was armored with the knowledge for what makes a quality garment so she could check them if they tried to screw us on quality. Their minimum orders were way higher than our previous factory’s, so we decided to focus on ordering more units of fewer designs. We ordered way too much our first round–some of those designs were in stock until the 2024 blowout sale! But it worked out, and slowly we had a warehouse full of stuff to sell.

Fast forward to 2024, business is slowing down between the economy being bad and what seemed to be a general skirt fatigue amongst our customers. We tried expanding into shirts, which would’ve been successful if our minimums were lower. In the late spring we realized we were in trouble if we didn’t make drastic changes and we ultimately decided to end in-house fulfillment and transfer to a third party fulfillment center that would support domestic shipping in Canada and eventually the UK, EU, and Australia. In order to make that transition affordable we drastically discounted everything and that sale was super successful! We were able to begin shipping from the fulfillment center with an almost clean slate, even if it did mean having to close the store for almost two months and thereby missing out on two very important months of sales.

Unfortunately, we were stupid. We continued to order new designs on an every other month schedule instead of switching to an every month schedule, forgetting that having a backstock in a variety of designs is what previously helped us float between orders and now we quite literally didn’t have enough inventory to match the sales we made for last year’s holiday sale.

That brings us to now.

We’re a little stuck. We have a round of skirts in production (yay!) but they won’t get here until February (boo!). To get back on that monthly cycle we would need to order the next round of skirts right now, but we can’t pay for production until that next round of skirts gets here; if the current sale goes well, it’s paying payroll, not production. We are currently in the very difficult, horrible situation of not having enough money for next month’s payroll unless we are somehow able to make significant sales with our very sparse inventory.

We’re scrappy and we do our best to adapt to disasters and I’m sure we’ll find a way to adapt to this one as well, it’ll just take us some time to get there. Basically we’re going to be okay eventually–hopefully later this year–but in the meantime if we seem frantic, now you know why. 

If you’re been considering trying out our viscose shirts but haven’t been able to justify paying full price, they’re on clearance PLUS half off right now! That’s $9-$15 for the viscose tops, and other tops on clearance are $20-$45. Some of the shirts we’re having a LOT of trouble selling are now priced below cost to help us recoup some of the money we spent making them.

Any amount of support helps right now. Sharing posts, telling your friends, buying a $9 shirt–all of it helps. If our clothing isn’t your thing, we also have a Patreon you can support for as little as $1 a month. https://www.patreon.com/mayakern

Thank you so much for reading, and I hope you have a great rest of your day and that 2025 is a brighter, kinder year for us all.

[brick-van-dyke]

A little ramble about Socialist Alternative, leftist radicalisation and privilege. Mostly a vent of sorts so it's going to be messy.

//TW: mentions of suicidal thoughts, effects of capitalism on mental health and physical health, mentions of systematic abuse and oppression, etc.

"What radicalised you?"

If you're familiar with Australian leftist politics or just been to an Australian university, you've probably heard this line from Socialist Alternative at some point, particularly if you're a young leftist. At first, I personally didn't know how to answer this, but now? Now I do:

That's the wrong question, it's not about what radicalised me, it's about when I realised I wasn't allowed to exist. I think my main distrust of socialist alternative can be drawn here, as much as I respect their activism (as much as I don't like certain other parts of it and the organisation itself because of how it functions and is set up, among other things) and how they've helped the movements around me grow, I don't like their ethics because it always centres on feeling in the right when, honestly, that isn't what this fight was ever about. It's not simply about what pushes people to some realisation that capitalism isn't working, for many of us, it's about realising when we noticed that we were broken clogs that would always be discarded; realising that we wouldn't even live past 30 in a system that sees us as faulty parts and that'll end with us either starving to death or choosing to kill ourselves to have some semblance of control in a system that is so damning that it actively tries to kill us. And no I'm not even exaggerating, especially when it comes to disability and generally most marginalised groups. It's actively hostile to people like us.

This is taking out one strong example for myself here, but I just feel like every interaction has had an undertone of not really understanding the gravity of what's at stake on an individual level. I think, like Marx, they really don't have anything to lose but their chains, but for the rest of us? We have our lives, something I think others just can't quite comprehend here when I say being anti capitalist isn't a political choice, it's a matter of life or death because here just isn't any other option in order to survive. Don't get me wrong, I agree with Marx on many things, but I do think there's a difference between able bodies, white, middle class activism because capitalism is uncomfortable compared to when you're a minority that's doing this to be allowed to exist, and specifically I think there's a powerful element of privilege that's ignored, especially in the case of socialist alternative. Again, I respect their activism, but this dynamic of power and push being from a white, abled and middle to upper class lens (yes there are people who are minorities within the org, but they don't hold power and much say imo) has led to, in my view, a distorted sense of reality and, more pressingly, policy and vision that is about saving the working class rather than making a world where labour isn't a price you have to pay in order to be allowed to exist. It's not just the exploitation of the working class, though that's a huge part of it, it's also how hostile this system is to people who can't be used; who can't work or who are seen as dirty or wrong for trying to.

So when asked "so, what radicalised you?" I can only really think to reply with "when I realised that wanting to die wasn't my fault, but the people around me that convinced me that my lack of ability to produce is somehow my fault and that I somehow don't deserve basic survival". Because that's the reality and I think, at least with the SAlt members I've spoken to, that isn't something that's really understood; the gravity of this situation on a personal level and that it's not as simple as doing something to make yourself feel good or to have a moment of pride, sometimes (or oftentimes) it's literally survival.

Most of all, I think what cements this for me is the reply I get to when I've asked (genuinely and in good faith) about allegations about their internal environment being "toxic" and "cult like" and, as I explained to them, this is from many different people from different friend groups who all don't know each other but have had he same experiences:

"They're just jealous of us and our activism."

But jealous of what? In a fight for survival, none of us have the opportunity to feel jealous over how it's done because this isn't about feeling a bit better, it's about being allowed to exist. I think this really is what made me realise that this isn't about the right to live for them, but the ability to feel good for fighting on the behalf of people like me and my friends. And, to me, that's something to have healthy caution over when pity is how people have tried to control minorities in the past, and in my own personal experience.

[lesbianbishounen]

you know its fucking bad when you consider buying a game ultimania that was never translated into english

[hoshigray]

Pretty Please with a cherry and spinkles ontop😩🙏 I need a Pussymatized Toji. Absolutely infatuated with his FWB. He was the one that said no attachments until he got addicted to her.

𝐚. 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: lmao, "pussymatized" is new, but i see the vision!!

⊹ 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: fwb! Toji x fem! reader - explicit content; minors DNI - kissing/making out - implied prior sex - backshots + missionary positions mentioned - oral (f! receiving) - feedbag position - multiple orgasms - Daddy kink - overstimulation - pet names (baby, good girl, mama, sweetie) - clitoral play (licking and sucking) - pussy-whipped! Toji - mention of spit and tears.

⊹ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 2.1k

Toji knew better. He’s done the whole friends with benefits gig plenty of times, and he knows the big rule that comes with the package:

Absolutely no feelings involved, or else the arrangement is off.

“Hoooh…! Ahhhn, T-Toji, stop…Not too fast!”

That is until he met you.

For about a year, you and Toji have been friends with benefits. It started as something Toji told you about, how he’d sleep around and get in those kinds of relationships. You were the one to ask if he’d be down to do it with you.

The onyx-headed one thought about it for a minute until he gave in and said sure. However, he stressed the “no feelings attached” policy intensely. He considered you a dear friend – a rarity in his life – and he didn’t want what you two were doing to damage this close relationship. It was just casual sex with a friend, nothing more. And you nodded to his regulation with a smile, moving your friendship to the next level.

Off the bat, the sex between you two was great! It had been a while since Toji had done stuff like this, and doing it with someone he could trust like you made the interaction smooth and entertaining. Problems between the two of you were rare, and it’s thanks to you two being mature adults that made handling this non-serious relationship easy!

Nevertheless, one thing made this cooperation difficult — at least on Toji’s part. The older man was becoming more and more infatuated with you.

He doesn’t know when it started getting this bad; Toji was never one to be the one catching feelings during these kinds of kinships. So, this was a bit new for him, and it made the poor man go crazy as the days went on. Him? Catching feelings?? Breaking his own rule??? Get real!

But he couldn’t lie to himself, it was all different since he was doing it with you. You were the closest person he could call a friend outside of Shiu, and that never changed once you two became fuck buddies. If anything, things have gotten a lot closer between you two. You cared for his kids while he was away, cooked meals for him because you feared he didn’t eat enough during the day, or invited him on grocery sprees. 

It wasn’t like you didn’t do stuff like that before. Yet now that you and Toji were doing things beyond a regular friendship, the man was seeing you in a new light that he hadn’t seen before, and God, it was suffocating him. He doesn’t know how many of your gorgeous smiles or sweet strings of laughter he can take before he snaps. 

But it wasn’t just your personality and gracious aura that lured him on. As mentioned before, the sex was amazing — No, scratch that; you were amazing. It had been a very long while since Toji had done sexual shit with someone who could reciprocate pleasure. Fuck, you felt so good, whether it was jerking or sucking him off while massaging his balls in your pretty hands, or bouncing on his cock with that tight cunt of yours that had him on the edge, holding on to your waist as he’d piston his cock deep inside. Merely thinking about churning your walls that snug on his cock had him gulp thickly, thinking a heavy sigh would get these thoughts out of his mind.

But they don’t, of course. Because he’d be damned if he’d try to forget the image of your beautiful body all hot and sweaty with his. Your moans and squeaks were all prompted by his thrusts, and – fucking Jesus – he could never get over the way you said his name, so desperate for him with watery, doe eyes that pull him in. Looking all disheveled and alluring for him and only him, peering over your shoulder when he’d hit it from behind like you wanted to see him feel good. Toji would’ve been a fool if he hadn’t fallen for you!

There was a time when Toji’d slip up and hold your hand as he chased release, noticing you catch the sight of his palm and integers gripping yours. Thinking you were uncomfortable, he removed his hand from yours, only for you to wrap your legs around his waist and bring him to you for a kiss. It was just a kiss, is what he’d say to justify it. But hearing you mewl under his lips and whisper to his ears was the last straw for him, hammering his dick and spilling his load into you as you two made out passionately.

Yeah, there was no doubt about it; the guy was falling for you hard.

So hard that he couldn’t stop thinking about you. It scared him a bit – the thought of you being his made his heart beat at a pace he hadn’t experienced in a long time. You corrupted his senses; he wanted to hear you, kiss you, feel you, smell you, taste you — fuck, did he want to taste you; it was so bad.

But it wasn’t as bad until you hadn’t stopped by for two weeks. You’d text him your apologies, saying that work caught you up and that you couldn’t see him and the kids. And even then, you’d still manage to throw a phone call before sleep, and Toji doesn’t know if that was better or worse. Your voice made his skin crawl, loving how you spoke to him all soft and fatigued yet affectionately. You were too good for him, having him feel guilty for fisting his cock unbeknownst to you.

He couldn’t take it anymore, being away from you. He could barely go through the first week, and the second had him itching to see you. That’s precisely what he did, calling you to let you know he’d come to see you. And once you opened the door to greet him with a warm smile, that last bit of thread in him had finally snapped.

“Nnmmah! Hic…shtooopp licking…! I’ll cum again, I’m gonna—!!”

After pulling you in for a hungry kiss, the man brought himself inside your apartment with you glued to him. Feverish pecks kept your lips on him, squeaking at how smoothly he picked you up and brought you to the living room couch. He’d suck on your neck while removing your bottoms, already stifling him with your fragrance to the point he shudders. 

He’d trail his kisses downwards, nibbling on certain areas that made you gasp for him, sucking on the skin of your inner thigh as his fingers rubbed on your folds covered by damp underwear. You had him on his knees, uncaring about the angle. His thoughts only thinking about the wet chasm he sees after discarding your panties. Nothing holds him back from plunging his face into your wetness and showing no signs of stopping when you’re wailing for him. He’d lick, lap, and suck on you with no remorse, face utterly stuck on your slit until you came for the first time. 

“—Ahhaa, I’m cummin’, Tojiii! OhJesusChrist—Nnnmoo!”

“Mmmph…! Fuck, c’mere, sweetie, lemme take care of you…”

And now, he’s chased you down for another climax, your legs tremble and your figure shakes as Toji’s tongue relentlessly pets around your labia, frantically licking your clit to expel more fluids to seep out your vagina.

And Toji drinks it all, stuffing his face into your inner thighs like breathing is not an issue. You cry and involuntarily try to close your legs as your nerves are at an all-time high, grabbing tuffs of raven hair. But the man doesn’t allow you to shy away, his strong hands keeping you grounded on the couch as he eats you out. They never leave your frame unless it’s to unzip his jeans to let his erection breathe. Your cute howls of pleasure, your delightful fluids painting his tongue and lips, and your intoxicating smell; all have his hard-on twitch painfully, precum staining his boxer briefs. 

He’s so far gone, his scarred lips kissing on your folds to gently juxtapose the tongue he uses to fuck you. You jerk and jolt, sobbing from the fervent mouth making sure every crevice of your cunt goes explored. Your orgasm still isn’t away, everything feels so sensitive that you feel like you could break.

“Tahhh, Toji, nooo,” you wail, trying to push his head from burrowing deeper between your thighs. Yet he shows no cooperation. “I just came, yer doing t’oo muuch…!”

Now, he finally removes his face from you, his chin wet with your essence which he licks from his lips. “Sorry, mama,” his rich emerald eyes lock with yours, they have you freeze under his gaze. “But I’m not done yet.” You shake your head, inching your hips away from his proximity. But he captures your waist and slides you back down. “Don’t,” he pleads, placing your legs on his shoulders. “One more time fr’ me, ‘kay, baby? Let Daddy have ya one more time.”

An excruciatingly slow lick from down your slit to your clitoris has you quiver, sloppy kisses further the mess of saliva and come between your legs, and you can’t control the throbbing sensation that returns to ache your inner walls. He chuckles, “Look at ya winkin’ at me, guess ya want more of me too, huh, sweetie?” He makes your ears ring and hot, throwing your head back when he spits and sucks on your clit harshly.

This time, Toji straightens his back a bit to lift your legs with him, hands securing you close to him on your hips. It was a view you hadn’t mentally prepared for, seeing your weight be supported easily. 

He continues to lap around your labia, taking in all the excess slick to suck on, not leaving any drop go undiscovered. His precision has you roll your eyes to the ceiling, a hand griping on his wrist as he rubs on your clit.

“Ohhhfuuuck,” your words were slurring together, brain too mushy to cooperate and form eligible sentences. The man between your legs makes that hard enough. You don’t even attempt to squirm out because Toji’s lips will latch right back onto you. “Daddyyy, right there…More, pleasee.”

“Good girl,” he praises, rewarding you with swirls circling your clitoris before a suck, and your legs cross around to push him further. “That’s my girl…Mmmm, fuckin’ Christ, taste too good…” His deep voice sends vibrations up your spine, chewing on your lip when his tongue nestles in between your soaked folds again.

He pushes the wet muscle back inside, groaning at the sensation of you clamping onto him and bucking your hips in his direction. Your cries fill the quiet space, his name coming out in rushed prayers was the only thing that occupies his eardrums. Fuck, he missed this so fucking bad, arms wrapping around your waist as he pushes his face deep, his nose bumping to the hoop of your pearl while he ravishes your insides.

The squelches of his tongue and lips are so raunchy and nasty, you feel like filth being used like this. You’ve long given up the control to conceal your moans, and Toji listens to every single one with intent. 

“—Ohhh! Ffsshiiit…!” Oh, no. You can feel it, the next wave climbing up. “Daddy, again! Gonna cum again, I cann’t...!”

“Yes, you can, mama,” he coos, blowing on your slick-covered lips. “Just a lil’ more fr’ me, ‘kay? Just let it out.” His mouth returns to erratically fuck you with his tongue, and his gruff moans are felt on your body. The pressure of your thighs squeezing him makes it better, hitting your delicate clit with gentle jabs that rock you into your third orgasm.

You scream, unleashing yourself as your climax rocks your being. Toji has a good hold on you, softly using the flat of his tongue to lazily lick your cunt, massaging your waist as your hips ride on his face. And it doesn’t help that the older man’s cock is oozing on his briefs, his thighs twitching with his erection wanting to be freed.

With a dangerous last kiss to your sensitive folds, Toji places your legs back onto the couch, wiping your come off his chin to lick his fingers clean before bringing his jeans and briefs.

“Wh..What’s gotten into you,” you ask with furrowed brows and hooded eyes like his, both misty with wanton thirst. “I see you’ve been more pent up than me.” He chortles at your jest, and you happily accept the tip of his cock into your mouth with a blissful hum.

“You have no idea, baby…”

© 𝐇𝐨𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐲2024 – reblogs and comments are appreciated wholeheartedly ✩ dividers by @/benkeibear.

[useless-catalanfacts]

Something very strange happened, and I think we need to have a talk about the way some people who don't know about Catalan culture misrepresent the Tió (our pre-Christian Christmas present-bringer, a log who poops presents 🪵🎁).

I have a relative who is a teacher in an adult school, she teaches Catalan language (mostly to immigrants). Some days ago, they were doing an activity about Catalan holidays, and two of her students said that Tió should be banned and that it's the worst thing they have ever heard. My relative was very shocked and asked why they could say such a thing (imagine, it's like saying Santa Claus should be banned in the USA). Their reasoning was that they completely misunderstood everything about it. These people are native Spanish speakers and assumed that the Catalan word "tió" (meaning "log" 🪵) means the same as the Spanish word "tío" (meaning "uncle"), even though both words are pronounced differently. They believed that the Tió represents a man and that we tell children to beat people up, so much until they poop themselves, threatening them to give us things. They said it promotes violence to children and that it's disgusting. Nothing further from the truth.

This is not an isolated incident because a few days ago I saw a post on Tumblr repeating this same mistake. I texted the person who posted it saying that it's not called "Poop Uncle" but "Christmas Log" and they said that this was what they were taught by their teacher (this person is from a different continent), and haven't taken down the post. I have also seen comments on Instagram repeating the same and making fun of how gross and violent it is.

The real meaning of Tió

The Log is a way of symbolically passing down our relation with nature. This is how the tradition works:

In early December, we get a log and bring him home. We take care of him: we keep him in a warm place, with a blanket over him, and we feed him things like orange/clementine peels and walnut shells. On Christmas day, all the family comes together. Children get wooden sticks and go get ready in another room, meanwhile adults place presents under the Log's blanket. Children come back and hit the Log while singing a song. There are many local variants of the song but they all come down to asking the Log to poop us good food. When they have finished singing the song, the children remove the blanket and discover the presents that the Log has pooped. Years ago (now this is only done by some farmer families in rural areas, but back in the day this was generalized), the Log was burned in the house's fireplace and its ashes were spread on the fields, believed to act as a magical fertilizer.

Notice what this whole "ritual" has been about: we take care of nature, nature takes care of us, we are part of a whole and there's no real difference between "nature" and "us" because we all give life to each other.

We take a log from the forest and bring it home. We do this for the Winter Solstice because it's the time of the return of light and the rebirth of nature after the winter sleep, and wood symbolizes the most important things for human life: food, warmth and light. It's difficult for us to imagine nowadays because we are used to electricity, but for our ancestors who only had oil lamps, fire and candles, darkness was almost absolute for many hours in winter, and that's why the Winter Solstice was very important because it meant that light is coming back. We want something from the Log, his fire will allow us to cook, it will give us light, and keep us warm. So we offer him the same: we feed him (notice what we feed it, too: a kind of compost, which is complimentary to human food), we keep him warm, and we love him. Then, we hit him with sticks (mimicking the motion of cutting down a tree) and ask him to give us food, and he does. Then, our ancestors used to burn him for warmth and light, and then take him back to plants spreading his ashes so it will give life to the fields. Which in turn will give us food again, which we will poop and it will fertilize plants again. And it's a cycle that never ends, we're all part of a whole.

We give to the forests, the forests can grow with the remains that all living creatures leave on its ground: leafs, excrements, the remains of parts of our food like nuts and fruit peels. These things give life to the forest. And the forest gives life to us: gives us fruits and wood (=light and warmth). We take these things, and in return we give to forests once again.

Nowadays, the part about warmth and light is often lost to kids, but the part about food is still obvious, even if subconsciously. This is why the Log is not the horrible barbaric tradition that the "haha poop and violence" crowd would make you believe.

And don't get me wrong, it can still be funny! We're the first ones to make jokes about it. And you can, too! But don't spread false ideas: the Spanish word "uncle" appears nowhere near this tradition because it doesn't have anything to do with uncles nor with Spanish-speaking cultures. It's called the Christmas Log (Tió de Nadal, Soca de Nadal, Tronca de Nadal, Tizón de Nadal, etc depending on the area, all meaning "Christmas Log") and it's celebrated by the Catalan people and a part of the Occitan and Pyrenean Aragonese people. The word "poop" (as an imperative verb, as in "please poop for us") appears in the song, but not in the name.

I know that, now that misinformation has gone viral, a post won't stop it. But I hope at least people with a genuine interest can learn some more. By all means, keep laughing! Make all the memes you want! But knowing the whole story will give you understanding. And, please, don't argue in favour of banning our cultural practises, we've had enough of that for centuries.

[somnoir]

Bats and Phantoms - Part 1

Prompt: All the Phantom/Fenton Siblings end up with one of the Bats and Birds. It's just that neither of the two families know that their partner is related to their siblings' partners.

Danny and Red Hood

Going to Gotham for university was a planned decision, mind you. It was one of their many contingency plans in case the reveal went wrong. Thankfully, it didn't but his parents were still trying to change their views on ghosts for the sake of their children. Last he heard from his parents, Jack and Maddie Fenton were practically harassing every ghost they could find on culture, history, and etiquette. (He's gotten one too many complains from Box Ghost and Poindexter.) Plus the mess that was the situationship between the Fenton Couple and Vlad Fucking Masters. (Dante was about to kill himself again for that).

Gotham had enough ambient ectoplasm for him to be stable. Everything was very normal. Absolutely...

If not for the fact that Danny loathed clowns. When a clown decided to try and attack Danny, what does he do?

He did what every self respecting Fenton would do when faced with something he absolutely hates. He came at him swinging, aiming for the face.

And maybe he put a little too much power into the punch and the next thing he knew, a body was flung against a wall and breaking it on impact. Danny stares at the toppled wall and—HOLY SHIT HE JUST KILLED THE JOKER.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck—BATMAN WAS GOING TO KICK HIM OUR OF GOTHAM!

But this was the Joker... The last time that crazy fucker got out of Arkham, he threatened to blow up an orphanage. Okay, he could do this. Gotham Harbor it is.

And in typical Fenton fashion, his luck was shittier than ever.

"What the fuck..."

Danny whipped around, freezing in place when he came face to face with the Red Hood. The fucking revenant of Gotham that the city spirit seemed to really favor. Fuck.

"It's not what it looks like! I mean—It is—But, like..." He swallowed thickly, trying to offer a smile but he flinches away when Red Hood snapped his head from the corpse then too Danny.

"That's the fucking Joker!" The Red Hood was pointing a gun at the corpse now, voice distorted and everything.

Yeah. Well. Shit. Danny gulped, finally deciding that since he was already half dead, he might as well clean up. Not like the Red Hood could kill him—I mean, he could, but Danny wasn't going to die by a bullet.

"You—" The gun was now pointed at him.

"It's not my fault he decided to fucking jump me!" Danny immediately argued, grabbing the clown by the legs and dragging him forward before he winced at the trail of blood. "It's a clown! A fucking clown!"

He yelped when the crime lord slapped his hands away from the corpse, "The fuck is wrong with you? Don't fucking touch the corpse unless you want that shit to traced to you." The Red Hood grunted, shaking his head. He sounded... He kinda sounded giddy, in all honesty. Why the fuck was the Red Hood teaching Danny how to get away with murder?

"What were you even going to do with the body?"

Danny cringed away. To tell the truth or not? Such a difficult question... Okay, he's pretty sure most of the Bats were like detectives and lying to this one might get him shot.

"Gotham Harbor?" He squeaked out.

Danny was met with silence and the man built like a fucking fridge (but he's so damn sure that Dan was still the tallest person he knew) didn't move a bit. Then his shoulders shook. And then he was laughing. Fucking shit, the Red Hood was laughing because Danny was going to dump a body in the harbor.

What was Jazz going to say?!

(Meanwhile, Jason Todd finds a strange boy that makes him feel strange, warm—the same boy had killed his worst nightmare. He might just have fallen in love right then and there.)

Part 2 | Masterpost

[orcelito]

me struggling thru the generally happier chapter bc of Circumstances

i just cant wait to finally let loose. dig my claws in like i havent gotten the chance to yet in itnl. i wanna it

[genderqueerdykes]

had the consult for my gallbladder surgery. the doctor told me i need to "lose 10 - 15 pounds" before they'll perform the surgery on me, and that I would need to wait 2 - 3 months before they would schedule it. i told her i have PCOS which makes it difficult to lose weight. she told me that does happen, and offered to refer me to a bariatric surgeon who is used to bigger bodies who could perform the gallbladder removal instead. i asked her for the referral to them instead

i was very angry at her for this, as 10 - 15 pounds do not make any difference when you are 300 lbs. my weight fluctuates between 280 - 340 lbs depending greatly on what i've eaten, how much i exercise, and so on. this will also vary greatly depending on if the stone is blocking my gallbladder completely or partially- if it's fully blocking the neck of my gallbladder, i cannot get enough digestive juices into my stomach to properly digest my food, so i will begin violently vomiting to get the undigested food out, and to get bile flowing into my stomach again. i begin to lose tons of weight when this happens, and i put it back on during the periods where i can get enough bile in my stomach to properly digest my food.

i can't digest my food properly. eating "healthier" will not change this- i can't digest food at all, period. healthy or unhealthy, i can't digest anything, because a good half of my digestive juices are completely missing from my guts. there is a functional issue with the way my guts work, of course i will lose weight drastically and put it back on at times. of course the issues will be episodic.

both her and the student that was working with me kept assuming that i said that my pain got worse after "high fat" meals. both of them put this in my mouth-

the student did it first. she asked when the pain gets worse and i said sporadically, but sometimes after i eat. she literally asked me "so you said it gets worse after fatty meals, right?"

i got frustrated and said "no, it's really random." i didn't get to tell her that raw leafy vegetables and lightly steamed or cooked vegetables make me vomit. broccoli and cauliflower that aren't heavily cooked, salads, raw vegetables, lightly cooked carrots, applesauce and apples in general are all problem foods.

the doctor then came in and said "it gets worse after high fat meals, right? you said that" and i went, again, "no it just kinda happens."

i don't even eat a high fat diet. i cook at home now for every meal now that i have all the tools i need to do so. i make rice, fish, pasta, and certain vegetables that i can digest like potatoes, sweet potatoes, onions, mushrooms, and so on. i eat bread, seeds, nuts, dried fruits, and drink oatmilk. i don't eat land meats, eggs, or dairy. i don't have any of those things. i do eat french fries and fish sticks, but not for every single meal. i don't eat chips because they're too salty and irritate my stomach. i don't eat candy or sweets unless the food bank delivers them to me. i don't eat much sugar other than pancakes and certain fruits

she wouldn't listen to me and went "well when you eat fatty meals, your gallbladder has to contract more and it can cause you a lot of pain." you would not believe how many times she came back to "you need to eat a lower fat diet." "the pain gets worse after you eat a high fat meal, so eat lower fat meals and your pain will go down." "just eat a lower fat diet and it'll help."

i just kind of sighed. there were tears in my eyes. i felt defeated. they made a bunch of assumptions just because i was sitting there, being fat. i was wearing long sleeves due to it being cold and they didn't get to see that i have a lot of muscle in my body mass. quite a lot. i wanted to tell them that i'm on testosterone and physically active when and where possible, and that i frequently lift heavy objects and move, but i never got a chance. i wanted to tell them my BMI isn't what they think it is, but i just didn't bother to try

i despise that people assume that fat people are fat because they eat "unhealthy" foods. i ate high fat foods for a few months while i was homeless because i didn't have the resources to cook every single meal. it affected my liver, i'm dealing with some fatty liver. but my gallbladder has more important issues in the form of the literal stone inside. she would not stop pushing for me to eat lower fat meals. all because i was sitting there, existing, as a fat person. i wish i would've told her i can only eat fish and plant matter

i don't understand how a patient telling you they're vomiting and can't keep down certain foods does not sound like a more pressing issue than an arbitrary number. weight as a number means nothing, it tells you nothing about that person's actual body composition. i have trauma with vomiting and yet i'm going to have to keep doing it anyway despite the fact that it could kill me via dehydration or if i just. can't stop

either way i'm very unhappy with result as i already waited for a month for this consult. now i have to wait for a referral for another surgeon to go through, and to do the consult with them, too. all while being in pain and having GI issues the entire time. just because a surgeon doesn't want to take the time to learn how to operate on fat bodies. i'm tired. what a joke

[hard-core-super-star]

losing focus [W.Maximoff + N.Romanoff]

pairing: dom!wanda maximoff x sub!reader x dom!natasha romanoff

summary: as unexpected as it is, you become a permanent part of wanda and natasha's relationship.

warnings: SMUT, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT -> porn with very little plot but many feelings; mommy + daddy kink; implied dom/sub dynamics; mentions of petplay; fingering [R receiving]; cunnilingus [R receiving]; overstimulation; nipple play; so many petnames; wanda and nat being competitive; badly proofread

wordcount: 3.7k

a/n: hi again! so, i was originally supposed to post a bishova fic today buuuut i got too attached and wrote a part two of "push me on the counter, call me princess" because i could. i hope you enjoy <3

* * * * * * *

It's difficult to define what your relationship with the witch and her grumpy assassin girlfriend has turned into. 

You know you're not really a part of their relationship, at least not officially, but you're not a mere observer either. Your main connection is with Wanda, which Natasha doesn't seem to mind, but the three of you are well aware of the way you simply started...joining them...all the time.

It started with small things. With Wanda inviting you to sit on her lap during movie nights. With Natasha begrudgingly letting the witch tie you down on their shared bed. With both of them holding you close at night, each of them murmuring some excuse about why they needed the physical contact.

You didn't mind. What kind of fool would mind being sandwiched between two of the most fearsome and beautiful Avengers?

But it very quickly stopped being enough for you.

You didn't want to be greedy, you knew your connection with Wanda wasn't right in the first place. You should have never allowed her to enchant you to the point of weaseling your way into her relationship.

And yet here you are.

Tucked under Wanda's arm while you watch her favorite sitcom.

A part you of you wants to be unhappy. To act like you don't want to be part of this.

But the truth is you do.

You really like this.

"You're thinking too much, detka." There's no judgement in the witch's tone, just the soothing sound of her accent. "Do you want to talk about it?"

You shake your head, instantly feeling overwhelmed from the mere thought of sharing your worries with her. You're not even sure why you're worried. Why there's a part of you that can't seem to settle, despite how warm and comfortable the older woman's embrace is.

"I'm fine," you mumble.

Wanda hates it when you mumble, but you can't help it. You also can't help the way you turn toward her, your face finding refuge in the crook of her neck.

She allows it for it now. Clearly, she doesn't need to read your thoughts to know how much you're struggling with them.

You want to feel embarrassed about it, but it's hard to feel anything except her palm pressing into your side. Her fingers slip under the hem of your (well...Natasha's) shirt and she draws small circles against your skin.

The two of you stay like that for a while. Wanda watches her show and you catch glimpses of it whenever you gather the courage to peak your head up and out of the comfort of her neck.

You've practically settled into the comfort when the door opens and your bubble of safety is popped.

Your shoulders tense until you hear the telltale sound of Natasha's sigh. There's an edge of annoyance to the sound that you've grown to associate with her. "Wanda, if you wanted a pet, we could have just gotten a cat."

Her words make the witch chuckle despite herself. She knew, no matter how cold the other woman acted, she was simply pretending. It was always easier for her to put her walls back up when she was unsure of something instead of going with the flow.

"Hello to you too, sweetheart."

Wanda gives your side a small pinch, not to hurt you but to encourage you to say hi. You don't really want to, you're still not sure how to act around the older woman, but you do it anyway.

"Hi, Nat."

The redhead rolls her eyes, but the corners of her lips quirk up into the smallest of smiles. "Hello, kitten. Have you been behaving?"

It's a small thing but it's a start. A reminder that she doesn't actually dislike you and she's not mad at the way things have turned out.

That maybe...she's softer than she looks.

"Yes, Daddy," you reply, a soft blush coating your cheeks as you address Natasha by her title. "I listened to Mommy all day."

The small smile on the redhead's face grows at your words. As tough as she looks, she completely adores the way you instantly submit to her without any objections. The way it all seems so natural. So weirdly right.

"Without pouting?" She asks, raising her eyebrow in the way that makes you tremble.

The idea of lying crosses your mind but you know better than that. Plus, there's no use in lying when you're sitting next to a literal mind reader.

"Well...no. But it wasn't my fault!"

Natasha doesn't seem convinced, although she does seem amused. Her eyes drift to Wanda, who can't seem to wipe the proud grin off her face. "It wasn't?"

"It wasn't," the witch replies. "She just got pouty because I told her we had to wait for you before we could play."

"Oh, I see. So, you didn't get pouty, you got needy, is that right?"

You nod, her tone making your head swim in an all too familiar way.

Natasha crawls into bed and shifts herself until she's laying down between your spread legs. The flimsy material of your shorts does little to keep your arousal hidden away from the older woman.

"Come here, detka," Wanda murmurs as her hands grip your hips.

She effortlessly lifts you up until you're sitting between her legs, your back pressed firmly against her front. It's a subtle show of dominance, a reminder that despite Natasha's stubbornness, Wanda's the one in charge. The one you actually belong to.

But there's also a soft side to it. A reminder that she's right there in case things get too overwhelming. That you can back out at any moment and they won't be upset.

It's far too late for that, though. Far too late to act like you don't want them both. Like you don't need them.

Natasha's hands bring you back. Her fingers trail a teasing path up your thighs until they reach the waistband of your shorts.

There's a wordless question in her gaze. One that makes your heart skip a beat.

You nod in response and she wastes no time in getting rid of the garments in the way.

Her eyes take in every inch of exposed skin, the softness in her smile turning slightly predatory. It's a sight you're growing very used to seeing.

"Look at you," she coos, although her tone is far more teasing than sweet. "You're already so wet for us. Mommy's left you needy for too long, huh?"

"I'm not the bad guy here," Wanda says with a chuckle. "It wasn't my idea."

Natasha rolls her eyes but your attention is captured by the witch and her warm hands that slip under your shirt. Her fingers make their way up your torso, her nails dragging against your skin and making your back arch in response.

"Don't listen to her, detka, she's just jealous."

You nod along to the redhead's words even though they don't fully register in your mind. All you know is you're stuck between them as they engage in yet another unnecessary competition.

Wanda notices first, far too used to the subtle cues that give away your growing dependence on them. Your growing need to let go and let them take over.

"There you go, sweetheart, doesn't that feel nice?" Her voice is soft and sweet in your ear, a constant lullaby that allows you to sink deeper against her.

"Mhmm," you hum, your hands reaching out for Natasha as her lips join her fingers in exploring your skin.

The witch is quick to stop you before you get too carried away. Her hands wrap around your wrists and she holds them down, allowing her girlfriend to keep teasing you. "Just relax, baby, Nat knows what to do."

You don't doubt her words for a second, but you also don't doubt the teasing mood the redhead seems to be in. You would complain if you weren't so busy trying to keep yourself still.

It's easier said than done, though, and Natasha quickly tightens her grip on your thighs, keeping you exposed to her gaze and completely still. "Come on, detka, don't you want to show Mommy what a good girl you are?"

Her words make your hips buck, but instead of teasing you for it, she sives right into the main event. Her breath ghosts the most sensitive part of your body before her lips wrap around your swollen clit.

The sensation borders on far too much far too quickly and yet the pleasure seems to overwhelm your body before the sensitivity hits you. Your head falls back against Wanda's shoulder as your lips part in a long moan.

The witch takes advantage of your change in position and attaches her lips to your neck, switching back and forth between gentle kisses and harsh nips. "There you go, isn't that better? Don't think, darling, just let us take over."

The answer is more than obvious considering how far gone your mind is. All you can fully focus on is the soft fuziness feeling your head and the pleasure you're drowing under.

"Daddy," you whine under your breath, your hips shifting against Natasha's mouth.

The redhead simply hums, lapping at your arousal like a woman starved. She doesn't want to admit it but hearing you call her that does things to her that she can't explain. There's a certain type of satisfaction she's never felt with Wanda, even when her girlfriend is in a more submissive mood.

It's what draws her closer to you despite how hard she tries to pretend like she doesn't care. And maybe she doesn't care, but the way she commits herself to making you fall apart, completely overwhelmed by pleasure tells another story.

Wanda's quick to notice how fuzzy you are by now, how perfectly pliable you've become with just a few soft strokes of Natasha's tongue against your throbbing clit. She lets go of your hands, trusting you not to move, before her fingers slip under your shirt again, trailing up until she reaches your breasts.

"Such a good girl for us," she murmurs, as her fingers find your nipples. "Such a pretty little pet."

You're stuck between wanting to arch your back and buck your hips. Ultimately, you end up doing nothing which is exactly what they like. It allows them to please you and use you in whatever way they want.

It's a little surprising how devoted Natasha seems to be to just pleasuring you, but your head is far too fuzy for you to try and think about that. The implications themselves aren't lost on you, though, and they only add to the growing coil in settled in your stomach.

"Don't tell me you're getting ahead of yourself, kotenok." The redhead leans back just enough to look up at you, dark green eyes drinking in every inch of your face. "Good girls don't act like greedy sluts, do they?"

"No, Daddy."

Your instant response makes her smirk and she rewards you by sinking two fingers into your wet cunt.

A gasp slips out of your parted lips and Wanda takes the opportunity to pinch and pull at your hardened nipples. The stinging pain mixes perfectly with the sudden pleasure and you can't stop your body from trembling under their expert hands.

"Please," you whine. "Can I cum?"

"Already?" Wanda chuckles. "Did I leave you too needy earlier?"

"Mhmm, so needy." You don't fully know what you're saying, you just know you can't hold back anymore and the last thing you need is to earn yourself a punishment. "Please."

Your words only seem to spur Natasha on and, instead of giving you mercy like you're asking for, she starts thrusting her fingers in and out of you, groaning as she feels your walls clenching around the digits. "Fuck, such a messy pet."

"I think she's about to get even messier."

The way they talk about you like you're not even there only adds fuel to your desperate arousal. There's nothing more for you to do besides wait for Natasha to decide to give you the mercy you're begging for.

You half-expect her to not give it to you just so she can punish you for it later. It certainly wouldn't be the first time, and you're certain she's only gotten more obssesed with the idea since then.

"Yeah? Is Mommy right, detka? Are you going to make a mess for us?" You know Natsha's teasing you and yet you don't feel the usual flush of humilation. Instead, the warmth that floods you is exactly the same one you feel when Wanda uses her sweetly condescing tone on you.

They're such different tones, such different people, and yet you can't deny the way you feel about them. The way every part of you begs for them.

"Yes, please-" Natasha steals your words by curling her fingers inside your wet heat, your thighs shaking from the force of holding back your orgasm. "Wanna cum, please-"

Wanda shushes you, knowing exactly how to soothe you when you need it most. She doesn't give you the permission you need, though, and in your desperation, you miss the silent conversation the two lovers have.

The seconds seem to stretch into hours until finally, Natasha gives in. "Go ahead, detka, cum for us."

She dives back in, her tongue drawing circles on your sensitive cit as her fingers move in and out of your cunt. The pleasure builds and builds, spurred on by Wanda's fingers playing with your nipples.

All it takes is the witch pinching your hardened peaks once more for you to fall over the edge for them.

Your mouth falls open in a loud moan, your whole body shaking as the waves of pleasure overtake your senses. Even as you lose control of yourself, the two women don't relent or give you a second to catch your breath.

As much as you'd love to complain about it, you can't when all you can think about is the electric sensations coursing through your body.

You cry out as Natasha continues her assault on your oversensitive clit, your hips shaking as you try to move away from her. Instead of scolding you for moving so much, she groans against you, causing your walls to clench around her in response.

"Don't fight it, sweetheart," Wanda mumbles, her lips grazing your jaw. "Just let Daddy make you feel good. It's what you wanted, right? Now take it like a good girl."

"Uh-huh, fu-" Your attempts at words turn into needy sounds that spur the redhead on.

"One more, detka, do it for me, yeah?"

Despite your initial complaints, your body gives in to the pleasure almost instantly. It's not fully surprising but it's certainly overwhelming and it sends you deeper into the fuziness filling your mind.

Natasha does her best to hold you down even as your hips buck desperately into her face. She works a third finger inside you and it takes all your self-restraint to not fall apart at the feeling.

"Please!" You gasp. "Can I cum?"

This time, the witch takes over and gently guides you toward your orgasm. "Go ahead, angel, you've been so good for us, just let go."

So, you do.

You give up control and let go.

You're not sure what happens, all you know is your whole body tenses as the coil in your stomach snaps free. You're too far gone to realize what a mess you make of yourself and the sheets beneath you, but the satisfaction in Natasha's movements isn't lost on you.

She works you through the seemingly never-ending aftershocks, easing herself away from your clit and slowly pulling her fingers out of your cunt. "So fucking beautful..."

Your body finally goes limp and you practically melt against Wanda. Her arms wrap around your waist while she places soft kisses to every inch of your face she can reach. "Good girl. You did so well."

You hum in response, barely registering Natasha's movements as she does her best to clean you up.

The bed shifts when the redhead finishes and you instantly know she's moving away from both of you. You try to complain but the words don't seem to form.

"Shhh, just rest, kotenok, you need it."

You want to argue and assure her you feel fine, but you can't seem to find the strength to open your eyes. All you manage to do is whine, earning yourself a chuckle from Wanda.

"Don't pout, baby. You're my good girl, right?"

You wait for Natasha to correct her. To jump in and say you're their good girl.

But she doesn't.

And the longer the silence goes on, the more it hurts your feelings.

"Mommy..." You whisper.

She presses a soft kiss to your temple as her hands go back to caressing your sides. "I know. We'll figure it out later, just sleep for now."

There's little for you to do besides give in and let sleep overcome you.

* * *

When you wake up, you instantly notice the lack of warmth against you. Your head's still a little fuzzy but you feel slightly more in control now. You're also still pretty drowsy, though.

You attempt to blink the sleepiness out of your eyes as you lift your head, your eyes searching around the room for Wanda.

Instead of the witch, you find her girlfriend curled up in the reading chair in the corner of the room. There's a certain tension in her form that tells you far more than she'd like.

"Maria called," Natasha says, her voice colder than you've heard it in a while. "Wanda had to go. It sounded like she'll be gone for a few weeks."

Oh.

At least that explains why the redhead looks so...vulnerable and...lost.

Their relationship has always been a bit of a mystery to you. Despite the many nights you've listened to Wanda complain about the assassin's shitty coping mechanisms, you don't know many details about their connection.

You just know that somehow...they work. Despite their traumas and their pain, they understand each other.

And then there's you.

You're even less sure of where you fit in.

Of how Natasha feels about you.

"You can at least pretend to be happy to spend time with me," she says, effectively cutting off your thoughts.

"I am," you reply without skipping a beat. "I just...didn't think you'd be thrilled about it."

"Why? Because I'm the big bad girlfriend who has no feelings? Who doesn't give a shit about anyone?"

Despite her attempts to sound mad, her tone gives away how hurt she is. How terrified she is that you see her like that. That you think she's half as bad as the stories you've heard about her.

"No, I just...well, I know you and Wanda had that arrangement and everything but you didn't ask for this. I thought you just saw me as her annoying pet."

The corners of her mouth twitch a little as she tries to hold in her smile. "I did at first. It's nothing personal, hearing Wanda say she wanted you was...a little hard to deal with."

"Yeah, I figured." You sit up with your back against the headrest, your eyes absentmindedly admiring Natasha's features. Even with the distance between you, she looks stunning. "It wasn't easy for me either, y'know? I felt really guilty about it."

"That didn't stop you from sleeping with her the first time, though."

"Well, no but...in my defense, you can't exactly say no to Wanda when her mind is made up."

That earns you a quiet chuckle. "Yeah, you can say that again. Why do you think you're here? Wanda didn't want to let you go after the first time."

It's not necessarily news considering how things went down after the first time, but you can't act like your heart doesn't skip a beat at her words. The confirmation that the witch wanted you is one thing, but you're still not sure how Natasha feels. Something that's not surprising considering how closed off she is.

"And you?" You ask, hoping you sound less nervous than you feel.

It takes Natasha a few seconds to form her response. You can't exactly blame her but the silence makes your skin crawl. The fear that she doesn't want you, that she doesn't care, rises up within you the longer it drags on.

Finally, she eases your mind.

"Let's just say you've grown on me, kitten."

It's not much and yet it's more than enough for you. It reinforces the connection you've started feeling with her. The bond that demands to be nurtured despite how unusual it is.

Then again, wanting unsual things is kind of your thing at this point.

"You've grown on me too," you mutter, doing your best to ignore the warmth that spreads along your face.

"That doesn't mean you're not still our pet, though," she clarifies. "...if you want, that is. It can stay casual or we can turn it into more. We can train you. I can train you, if you want to be our submissive."

It takes a second for the words to fully sink in.

You nod before you even know what you're doing. You don't need to think about it, though, it's what you want. You want them. And all the little nuances that come with them.

Natasha watches you for a moment, her eyes studying you as if she's waiting for you to realize what you're doing and back out instantly. You can't exactly put your reasons into words to ease her mind. All you know is you've never wanted anything the way you want them.

Despite not being a mindreader like her girlfriend, the assasin is quick to move toward you once the thought of being fully theirs crosses your mind.

"You sure you've got what it takes, kitten?" She asks as she settles onto your lap. "I'm a lot to handle."

"I can take it," you reply, your hands landing on her waist without a second thought. "I want you."

Finally, your words are enough to break through her defenses. 

It doesn't feel like enough and yet it's exactly what she had wanted to hear. What she was afraid you wouldn't want.

"Then you have me," she says, her voice far softer than you've ever heard it.

There's so much you want to say, but words don't seem to be enough right now. So, instead, you lean forward and press your lips to hers.

You're not completely sure how you ended up here but you wouldn't trade it for the world.