#boy howdy do i feel old

[pablogavira]

Happy 17th Birthday Lamine! (b. July 13, 2007)

[thelovers-thedreamers-and-me]

the downside to being a sitcom neighbour sort of person is that when rough things happen and emotionally fuck u up a lil bit, it also sounds completely made up

[listen-to-the-inner-walrus]

Human pet guy showed up on my dash again (via puppy play sick skateboard tricks post) and I decided to look at what he was up to these days, and

what do you mean he was born in 1995?

[sercphs]

Tucks this gently under the rug

[peapod20001]

In my...✨ depression bed ✨ phase <3

[colleendoran]

Great Big Good Omens Graphic Novel Update

AKA A Visit From Bildad the Shuhite.

The past year or so has been one long visit from this guy, whereupon he smiteth my goats and burneth my crops, woe unto the woeful cartoonist.

Gaze upon the horror of Bildad the Shuhite.

You kind of have to be a Good Omens fan to get this joke, but trust me, it's hilarious.

Anyway, as a long time Good Omens novel fan, you may imagine how thrilled I was to get picked to adapt the graphic novel.

 Go me!  

This is quite a task, I have to say, especially since I was originally going to just draw (and color) it, but I ended up writing the adaptation as well. Tricky to fit a 400 page novel into a 160-ish page graphic novel, especially when so much of the humor is dependent on the language, and not necessarily on the visuals.

Not complainin', just sayin'.

Anyway, I started out the gate like a herd of turtles, because  right away I got COVID which knocked me on my butt. 

And COVID brain fog? That's a thing. I already struggle with brain fog due to autoimmune disease, and COVID made it worse.

Not complainin' just sayin'.

This set a few of the assignments on my plate back, which pushed starting Good Omens back. 

But hey, big fat lead time! No worries!

Then my computer crawled toward the grave.

My trusty MAC Pro Tower was nearly 15 years old when its sturdy heart ground to a near-halt with daily crashes. I finally got around to doing some diagnostics; some of its little brain actions were at 5% functionality. I had no reliable backups.

There are so many issues with getting a new computer when you haven't had a new computer or peripherals in nearly fifteen years and all of your software, including your Photoshop program is fifteen years old.

At the time, I was still on rural internet...which means dial-up speed.

Whatever you have for internet in the city, roll that clock back to about 2001.

That's what I had. I not only had to replace almost all of my hardware but I had to load and update all programs at dial-up speed.

Welcome to my gigabyte hell.

The entire process of replacing the equipment and programs took weeks and then I had to relearn all the software.

All of this was super expensive in terms of money and time cost.

But I was not daunted! Nosirree!

I still had a huge lead time! I can do anything! I have an iron will!

And boy, howdy, I was going to need it.

At about the same time, a big fatcat quadrillionaire client who had hired me years ago to develop a big, major transmedia project for which I was paid almost entirely in stock, went bankrupt leaving everyone holding the bag, and taking a huge chunk of my future retirement fund with it.

I wrote a very snarky almost hilarious Patreon post about it, but am not entirely in a position to speak freely because I don't want to get sued. Even though I had to go to court over it, (and I had to do that over Zoom at dial-up speed,) I'm pretty sure I'll never get anything out of this drama, and neither will anyone else involved, except millionaire dude and his buddies who all walked away with huge multi-million dollar bonuses weeks before they declared bankruptcy, all the while claiming they would not declare bankruptcy.

Even the accountant got $250,000 a month to shut down the business, while creators got nothing.

That in itself was enough drama for the year, but we were only at February by that point, and with all those months left, 2023 had a lot more to throw at me.

Fresh from my return from my Society of Illustrators show, and a lovely time at MOCCA, it was time to face practical medical issues, health updates, screening, and the like. I did my adult duty and then went back to work hoping for no news, but still had a weird feeling there would be news.

I know everyone says that, but I mean it. I had a bad feeling.

Then there was news.

I was called back for tests and more tests. This took weeks. The ubiquitous biopsy looked, even to me staring at the screen in real time, like bad news. 

It also hurt like a mofo after the anesthesia wore off. I wasn't expecting that.

Then I got the official bad news.

Cancer which runs in my family finally got me. Frankly, I was surprised I didn't get it sooner.

Stage 0, and treatment would likely be fast and complication-free. Face the peril, get it over with, and get back to work. 

I requested surgery months in the future so I could finish Good Omens first, but my doc convinced me the risk of waiting was too great. Get it done now.

"You're really healthy," my doc said. Despite an auto-immune issue which plagues me, I am way healthier than the average schmoe of late middle age. She informed me I would not even need any chemo or radiation if I took care of this now.

So I canceled my appearance at San Diego Comic Con. I did not inform the Good Omens team of my issues right away, thinking this would not interfere with my work schedule, but I did contact my agent to inform her of the issue. I also contacted a lawyer to rewrite my will and make sure the team had access to my digital files in case there were complications.

Then I got back to work, and hoped for the best.

Eff this guy.

Before I could even plant my carcass on the surgery table, I got a massive case of ocular shingles.

I didn't even know there was such a thing. 

There I was, minding my own business. I go to bed one night with a scratchy eye, and by 4 PM the next day, I was in the emergency room being told if I didn't get immediate specialist treatment, I was in big trouble.

I got transferred to another hospital and got all the scary details, with the extra horrid news that I could not possibly have cancer surgery until I was free of shingles, and if I did not follow a rather brutal treatment procedure - which meant super-painful  eye drops every half hour, twenty-four hours a day and daily hospital treatment - I could lose the eye entirely, or be blinded, or best case scenario, get permanent eye damage.

What was even funnier (yeah, hilarity) is the drops are so toxic if you don't use the medication just right, you can go blind anyway.

Hi Ho.

Ulcer is on the right. That big green blob.

I had just finished telling my cancer surgeon I did not even really care about getting cancer, was happy it was just stage zero, had no issues with scarring, wanted no reconstruction, all I cared about was my work. 

Just cut it out and get me back to work.

And now I wondered if I was going to lose my ability to work anyway.

Shingles often accompanies cancer because of the stress on the immune system, and yeah, it's not pretty. This is me looking like all heck after I started to get better.

The first couple of weeks were pretty demoralizing as I expected a straight trajectory to wellness. But it was up and down all the way. 

Some days I could not see out of either eye at all. The swelling was so bad that I had to reach around to my good eye to prop the lid open. Light sensitivity made seeing out of either eye almost impossible. Outdoors, even with sunglasses, I had to be led around by the hand.

I had an amazing doctor. I meticulously followed his instructions, and I think he was surprised I did. The treatment is really difficult, and if you don't do it just right no matter how painful it gets, you will be sorry. 

To my amazement, after about a month, my doctor informed me I had no vision loss in the eye at all. "This never happens," he said.

I'd spent a couple of weeks there trying to learn to draw in the near-dark with one eye, and in the end, I got all my sight back.

I could no longer wear contact lenses (I don't really wear them anyway, unless I'm going to the movies,) would need hard core sun protection for awhile, and the neuralgia and sun sensitivity were likely to linger. But I could get back to work.

I have never been more grateful in my life.

Neuralgia sucks, by the way, I'm still dealing with it months later.

Anyway, I decided to finally go ahead and tell the Good Omens team what was going on, especially since this was all happening around the time the Kickstarter was gearing up.

Now that I was sure I'd passed the eye peril, and my surgery for Stage 0 was going to be no big deal, I figured all was a go. I was still pretty uncomfortable and weak, and my ideal deadline was blown, but with the book not coming out for more than a year, all would be OK. I quit a bunch of jobs I had lined up to start after Good Omens, since the project was going to run far longer than I'd planned.

Everybody on the team was super-nice, and I was pretty optimistic at this time. But work was going pretty slow during, as you may imagine.

But again...lots of lead time still left, go me.

Then I finally got my surgery.

Which was not as happy an experience as I had been hoping for.

My family said the doc came out of the operating room looking like she'd been pulled backwards through a pipe, She informed them the tumor which looked tiny on the scan was "...huge and her insides are a mess."

Which was super not fun news.

Eff this guy.

The tumor was hiding behind some dense tissue and cysts. After more tests, it was determined I'd need another surgery and was going to have to get further treatments after all.

The biopsy had been really painful, but the discomfort was gone after about a week, so no biggee. The second surgery was, weirdly, not as painful as the biopsy, but the fatigue was big time.

By then, the Good Omens Kickstarter had about run its course, and the record-breaker was both gratifying and a source of immense social pressure.

I'd already turned most of my social media over to an assistant, and I'm glad I did.

But the next surgery was what really kicked me on my keister.

All in all, they took out an area the size of a baseball. It was  hard to move and wiped me out for weeks and weeks. I could not take care of myself. I'd begun losing hair by this time anyway, and finally just lopped it off since it was too heavy for me to care for myself. The cut hides the bald spots pretty well.

After about a month, I got the go-ahead to travel to my show at the San Diego Comic Con Museum (which is running until the first week of April, BTW). I was very happy I had enough energy to do it. But as soon as I got back, I had to return to treatment.

Since I live way out in the country, going into the city to various hospitals and pharmacies was a real challenge. I made more than 100 trips last year, and a drive to the compounding pharmacy which produced the specialist eye medicine I could not get anywhere else was six hours alone.

Naturally, I wasn't getting anything done during this time.

But at least my main hospital is super swank.

The oncology treatment went smoothly, until it didn't. The feels don't hit you until the end. By then I was flattened.

So flattened that I was too weak to control myself, fell over, and smashed my face into some equipment.

Nearly tore off my damn nostril.

Eff this guy.

Anyway, it was a bad year.

Here's what went right.

I have a good health insurance policy. The final tally on my health care costs ended up being about $150,000. I paid about 18% of that, including insurance. I had a high deductible and some experimental medicine insurance didn't cover. I had savings,  enough to cover the months I wasn't working, and my Patreon is also very supportive. So you didn't see me running a Gofundme or anything.

Thanks to everyone who ever bought one of my books.

No, none of that money was Good Omens Kickstarter money. I won't get most of my pay on that for months, which is just as well because it kept my taxes lower last year when I needed a break.

So, yay.

My nose is nearly healed. I opted out of plastic surgery, and it just sealed up by itself. I'll never be ready for my closeup, but who the hell cares.

I got to ring the bell.

I had a very, VERY hard time getting back to work, especially with regard to focus and concentration. My work hours dropped by over 2/3. I was so fractured and weak, time kept slipping away while I sat in the studio like a zombie. Most of the last six months were a wash.

I assumed focus issues were due (in part) to stress, so sought counseling. This seemed like a good idea at first, but when the counselor asked me to detail my issues with anxiety, I spent two weeks doing just that and getting way more anxious, which was not helpful.

After that I went EFF THIS NOISE, I want practical tools, not touchy feelies (no judgment on people who need touchy-feelies, I need a pragmatic solution and I need it now,) so tried using the body doubling focus group technique for concentration and deep work.

Within two weeks, I returned to normal work hours.

I got rural broadband, jumping me from dial up speed to 1 GB per second.

It's a miracle.

Massive doses of Vitamin D3 and K2. Yay.

The new computer works great.

The Kickstarter did so well, we got to expand the graphic novel to 200 pages. Double yay.

I'm running late, but everyone on the Good Omens team is super supportive. I don't know if I am going to make the book late or not, but if I do, well, it surely wasn't on purpose, and it won't be super late anyway. I still have months of lead time left.

I used to be something of a social media addict, but now I hardly ever even look at it, haven't been directly on some sites in over a year, and no longer miss it. It used to seem important and now doesn't.

More time for real life.

While I think the last year aged me about twenty years, I actually like me better with short hair. I'm keeping it.

OK. Rough year. 

Not complainin', just sayin'.

Back to work on The Book.

And only a day left to vote for Good Omens, Neil Gaiman, and Sandman in the Comicscene Awards. Thanks. 

[caityjay13]

Dear Followers,

This is a PSA. Hikaru no Go (2020) is now available to stream on Prime Video. You should watch it.

But Caity, you may ask. Why should I watch this Chinese live action drama based on the popular turn-of-the-millenium Japanese manga and anime of the same name? The answer, my friends, is because it is fucking phenomenal.

Hikaru no Go is my favorite sports anime. It was one of the first manga I ever read. When I own a home someday and have bookshelves, it is one of the only manga series I wish to own in its entirety in print. The story is deeply compelling, moving, funny, relatable. It truly has something I haven't found in another animanga in twenty years.

And the Chinese live action adaptation takes that perfect, beautiful source material and creates something equally perfect and beautiful (if not more so? feels blasphemous to say, but boy howdy I'm not NOT saying it).

The way in which the original Japanese story—the characters, the culture, the game of go—is translated into Chinese is really masterfully executed. The story is incredibly faithful to the original, and when it does differ, it does so in really creative, thoughtful ways that really work.

The actors fucking nail it. Honestly all of them, but I'm looking at the kids in the first two episodes in particular. Blown away by the performances of a couple of ten-year-olds. Kids have a bright future ahead of them, damn.

This show has the budget. If y'all know me at all, you know I'll enjoy a low-budget wuxia flick because it's a good time, but damn, if I had standards, they would be met and exceeded by this show. The hair, the makeup, the costumes, the effects (there is an effect every time the "ghost" is on screen where he is partially translucent. It is perfectly executed and incredibly impressive, at least to my layman eyes). The very first opening credits scene is super beautiful, the end credits are beautiful, it's all just so pretty and polished and feels good on my eye holes.

Honestly, I cannot gush enough about this show. It ranks up with Nirvana in Fire in my heart (which I do not say lightly, considering I went through my entire list and lowered the ratings I'd given each show accordingly after I first watched nif so that the 10 weighed more heavily).

tl;dr: If you liked the hikago animanga, you should watch this show. If you never read/watched hikago, you should watch this show. If you did not like hikago, you should watch this show. Please watch this show, I am begging you.

Sincerely, A Rabid Hikago Fangirl

[havin-fun-imagining-twd]

It felt so real.

What - Yearning. Daryl misses you and your family so badly that it seems his imagination is dreaming you up to keep him from going crazy

When - big time jump to when Daryl finds himself in France (spinoff season 1, episode 2)

Where - the school in France

Pronouns - she/her (howdy, wife reader!)

TWs - language, reference to child loss, self-loathing, sappiness (it's fanfiction, y'all XD ) and Daryl gets a little...'excited' (mild instance of sexual arousal between a married couple)

Perspective - Daryl 3rd person POV

References - some are yet unpublished because this is a significant time skip, which means a few little surprises. Others can be found throughout the series!

Series? - the Slowpoke Series! It's a fun, slow time that sticks to canon to help maintain immersion (as much as you can with adding an oc lol) ;)

Can I read this chapter if I haven't started any part of the Slowpoke Series yet? - definitely

----------------------------

----------------------------

“It's so good to hold you again, sugar.”

Those words, that voice, made him relax into the bed. She was there again! He’d last imagined her when he was being tended to by those nuns, so it was only, what, a handful of days ago?

Wasn’t enough for him, he missed her so much.

“Dare, I want them all. Full stop, every last one.”

He pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “I knew you’d say that.”

“As if you aren’t wantin’ to take at least a handful. All those kids with just an old woman to care for them…well, now she’s dead, but…” She sighed and held him tighter. “Lou reminds me of Enid. Don’t you think they look similar? M’sorry her name had to be Lou. A lot of things over here are making you homesick, ain’t they? And that poor boy in Maine, named TJ, too.”

He pulled her closer, doing his best to not wake himself up so Y/N would stay with him. He wished that kid, with same name as his oldest, has just gone back to his girlfriend like he'd told him to.

“Our own Louise lights a candle with me for you every day. Those nuns would be proud.”

He swore to himself that whenever these dreams happen, there’s got to be some way it isn’t just all in his head. It was way too real.

It felt so, so real.

But that Louise was lighting candles for him, he knew because Carol told him when she spoke to him briefly over the radio in Maine...

“Did Carol also mention that Lydia’s been drawing you? Or did I write part that in the letter?”

“The letter. Carol and I didn't have much time to say anything.” Y/N wrote him a long, long letter. One part mentioned how both Lydia and Glenn took to getting nightmares again after he left. At Maggie’s suggestion, Lydia had been drawing his picture. Apparently it helps her feel safer.

RJ had been 'retreating more than usual,' also. Adam was acting out, too, so she wrote. If Daryl was figuring it right, the boys losing another father figure probably hadn’t helped.

“Dare, he’s three. Three-year-olds don’t only act out with foster parents, Adam would be doin’ the same with Alden. And RJ is without Michonne right now. That's the greater culprit.”

His wife also wrote how Coco just started calling her ‘mama,’ and correcting her to say ‘auntie’ wasn’t working yet. She chalked it up to her being a motherly figure and the baby assuming all caring ladies were ‘mama.’ He wondered if Gabe knew yet. Ain’t like Y/N hasn’t been a mama to that little girl since Rosita died. Actually, nah, Gabe obviously knew; Y/N would’ve (legit) run to him immediately and told him what was up.

The faces of all their kids ran through his mind over and over, Lydia and Judith and RJ included. Then his wife’s face. Carl. Adam. Hershel. Gracie. Coco. Carol. Ezekiel. Maggie. Rosita. Aaron. Jesus. Jerry. Rick. Merle. T-Dog.

“Oo, I want to be here when T-Dog visits. Has he ever visited?” Y/N chirped.

He wished. “Once. I just think about him a lot.”

“Bummer. He must have been so thrilled when we actually did name our first after him, without you even tellin’ me nothing about how he’d teased you on it! Say, what about Uncle Jesse? Does he visit? He must’ve been happy TJ’s middle name is for him!”

He shook his head. You even visited me before I was smart enough to fall for you. When I fell down the ridge. It was you and Merle.

A sneezing from one of the kids in another part of the building resounded four times. It woke him briefly.

He closed his eyes, focused…

It was okay, Y/N was there. Daryl breathed a sigh of relief.

“I am a mite surprised you didn’t take the floor anyway,” Y/N admitted, peeking over his side to look at where the nun Isabelle was laying down next to him. “Or share with Laurent so the two sisters could share.”

“Neither of them trust me enough for me to share a room with the boy. And she sounded like she didn’t want me on the floor. Must be that I’m gettin’ too old." All I feel these days is tired and sore. "Hell, I don’t think I could get up if I slept on the floor.”

Angel, I ain’t the same without you, I’m a fucking mess. Look at the shit show that I’ve made of things.

His wife whispered, “Hey. You know I can hear that, I’m from your imagination.”

“Y/N, I miss you so fucking much.” Baby, I’m so goddamned far from you all and I don’t know how I’m gonna get out this time.

“No cusses in front of the kids, Daryl,” She cupped her belly, the one he was imagining she might have again. Carol, when she spoke to him, used what little time there was to mention how Y/N was avoiding taking a test because she missed him too much. Y/N didn’t say nothing about it in her letter she'd packed in there during one of his home visits.

How’s that for a reason to hate yourself?

“You should,” shot back another familiar voice. “Leaving your own kin, leaving your woman. Ain’t you learned nothing, boy? Didn’t think you was that much of a deadbeat but here’s proof the apple didn’t fall far from the tree."

Merle.

Damn, it’d been ages!

"Yup. Nanu nanu," his brother mocked, waving his metal stump and glaring. "Here you are, in the white flag capital of the world, surrounded by Euro kooks instead of your own blood.”

“Oh, Daryl, don’t imagine him as cruel again!" Y/N cooed. "Let us both love you if you’re gonna go about having us here.”

Daryl breathed slowly so he wouldn’t wake up. When he felt level enough, he answered, “I don’t have much control over what y’all say.”

“I thought you had some control over it.” Y/N gently pushed his hair off his face. He loved it when she did that. Delicately, she examined the new scar gracing his forehead.

“I blame that old coot what you let whup you on the head as to why you’re seeing things,” his brother crooned.

His wife nodded. “Another concussion, you poor man. But this isn’t a hallucination, it’s just a dream. It’s that good kind of dream where you’re not fully awake but not fully asleep.” She trailed her hand along his forearm.

“Y/N, you’re too good for this sad sack.”

She fired back faster than Daryl knew his imagination could go. “Merle. You love your brother to death and you’re happy he got hisself a wife and family.” Y/N had pushed herself up to sitting in order to scold him. “Tell me you don’t swell with pride seein’ him be a good father and good husband. The cycle stopped with him, and you’re proud of it.”

Daryl, a hand protectively around his wife’s side, was busy trying to figure out what Merle was even doing, whittling?

Ah, he was eating an peach with the knife attached to his metal stump.

Weird, he thought ghosts didn’t eat.

“Maybe I ain’t a real ghost, retard,” was a blunt comeback. “Maybe I’m just a poor copy you conjured up in that concussed little head of yours.” Merle then turned to Y/N. “As for you, kitten, he left you and your brats! Left you when you was up the duff, left you when you don’t even got all your legs no more! How’s he supposed to protect you when he’s out here?”

“Merle William Dixon! I ain’t ‘kitten’ and those ‘brats’ are your nieces and nephews, dick. Noah’s middle name is even for you, so you best watch your mouth, hear?”

Merle smirked and sliced off another wedge from the peach. “There’s my sister-in-law. I had to make sure your square self at least still had that fire in ya.” He offered her a slice, but she crossed her arms.

The expression on her face was so disappointed it made Daryl’s chest tug.

His brother duly inclined his head in apology and raised his hands in surrender. “You’re right, ma’am. Y’all are doing a good job on them brats. And this sumbitch ain’t nothing like our old man, so there’s something.” Merle chopped another piece of fruit. “And it’s always a pleasure to roll with a fellow amputee, Y/N. Not many can relate to how trippy the phantom limb bullshit can get.”

She tilted her head in agreement, rubbed the spot above her prosthetic calf, and settled back down next to her husband with a big sigh. “I do wish Daryl imagined you in a kinder light, Merle, but, either way, I’m happy he watched Mork & Mindy because it got him thinkin’ about you — and now you’re here for him!” Her hand grazed along her bump. “And, you meant to say to him that I was possibly pregnant.”

“Dunno about that, sister, you’ve always seem to know when you been knocked up.”

“That ain’t incorrect,” she confessed, curling in on herself. “Even if I was, it’s possible we had a loss again, Merle. Whether early or late this time.”

“Another reason he shouldn’t be screwin’ around out here.” Merle next words sliced him as if his heart were the peach in his hands. “I'm angry for your own good, lady. What if you had to handle another kid's death, this time on your own?”

The bad memories crashed down like waves threatening to drown him in grief and guilt. He wanted to pummel his brother in the hopes Merle would best him and make him pay for leaving her.

But Merle wasn't actually there. Neither was Y/N. It was pretend. Daryl was just beating himself up in his head, and failing even at that.

Y/N said the words as Daryl thought them: “Why are you twisting the knife?” She swallowed and covered her face with her hands. “Maybe, this mission is w-worth the sacrifice of, of us not havin’ him here right now.”

No. It’s not.

I know you said that before I left to make it hurt less, but it’s not. Listen to your stutter, you know it ain’t.

I should be back there with you, not constantly leaving for weeks at a time. I'm supposed to be home now. I'd told Carol when I reached her on the radio back in Maine that I'd be there in a about a week, which is what she would've told you. This whole thing is horseshit!

“Darlin’, think on happier things or you’ll upset yourself awake or into another nightmare,” Y/N soothed. "You almost woke from anger at Merle just there, which is really just anger at yourself." Her fingers laced into his where his hand rested on her belly. His wish was that his dream would include feeling the baby move. He loved that feeling. Except, he must’ve been waking up because his dream wasn’t letting him feel her hand or her belly very much when he tried. Still, it felt real enough. He’d take what he could get.

“Might could be fun to think back on how beautiful it was making them, if indeed we made another one.” She walked two fingers along his bicep. “Would’ve happened on or around the last night before you left. Or,” she mused, then started to giggle. At that moment, he could even imagine the vibrations of her laughter as if she were really, actually laying beside him. It felt so real! “I wouldn’t be surprised if made them on the day itself, that was soo — oh man, hold up!” She pulled away from him and eyed his crotch in suspicion. “No sex dreams allowed, there’s a bride of Christ in the room! Keep that thing down, deal?”

He almost laughed out loud, and possibly in real life. So long as he didn’t wake up, he didn’t care if he laughed in his sleep. The reactions, the tone, it was all just like his Y/N. And he could hope they had another kid. He’d take as many as came along.

Aw, shit, how far would she even be along, if this one made it? How long had he been away?

“Goddamn, y’all, is this some kinda kink you got?” Merle cut in. “Me and the penguin are still here, you perverts.”

“Oh hush, neither of us are actually here. Him and me aren’t doing nothin’, he just got a little aroused,” Y/N countered. “And to answer your question about another baby, Daryl, I reckon you’ll find out when you come back.” She shrugged. “Unless you reach us on a radio? Eugene is diligent about it, especially now.”

That was another thing she wrote in her letter. Eugene and his radio.

The helplessness crashed back down on him. “I’m tryin’ babe.” He didn’t want to start crying. The nun was next to him and he didn’t know if he’d be able to stop crying once he started.

Merle jeered, “Try harder, Darylina.”

He was right, Daryl needed to. He needed to try harder! What kind of washed out fuck-up was he?

“Sweetheart,” his wife called softly. Her hand caressed his cheek. It felt so, so real. “Margaret — a woman who knows the pain of losing a husband — trusted this to you because you survive. And I trusted you to go, because you’ve got the brains, the balls, and the grit. You don’t die or get bit, Daryl, no. You always come home.”

Bullshit. Not this time.

“Not bullshit. Yes, this time.” She looked to the window. “Merle, back me up.”

“Based on your track record, she’s right, little brother.”

“You may not believe you can or will,” she lifted herself up on her hands and leaned forward to kiss him. It had to have been real. It felt so, so real. But he was not about to open his eyes to see if by some miracle it was. “Despite how you feel right now, my bet is you will get that happy ending. It ain’t coincidence that Laurent said so just like our Judith did! How’s that for a reason to hope?”

Shit, he was about to break down. “Y/N, maybe I don’t deserve that. You saw the shit-show what got me here.” And there came the tears. “I left you, that’s all there is to this. I don’t deserve you.”

“Oh, that word.” Y/N wasn’t a fan of the word ‘deserve.’ “On that topic, what an honest prayer you said to bless the food! So many times you used ‘deserve,’ ugh, but,” she paused, “God loves honesty like that. Very, very much.”

She kissed his eyelids where the tears were starting to slip out, kissed the scar that never seemed to fade, then settled back against the side of his chest and curled one leg around him. With her hand, she rubbed comforting circles along his torso. “And He don’t punish or withhold, that’s just our fallen world. His hand is always out for you,” she murmured. “Say, how long do you think you can keep up with imaginin’ my theology?”

“Angel, I’m already at my limit. That’s why part of me thinks you’ve gotta be here somehow, some parts of this feel so real. Smart stuff like this ain’t in my head.”

“TJ and Georgia would call out your self-hate if they could hear you. You’d owe them a lot of quarters. Hm, and euros, seeing as you're here.”

His chest tugged at their names. “How are they?”

TJ, their oldest besides Lydia, had long hair like the little French kid here. Just one other thing that ripped at Daryl’s heartstrings to make him ache so bad for home it shocked him that he wasn’t bleeding out.

“They’re as good as gold and better. Just like their father.” That phrase he knew was from his memory because she’d said it before. “All of us miss you like crazy. Postal level.”

You shouldn’t.

“Daryl.” Her hand gripped his. There’s no way it wasn’t real. It felt so real. “When I was broken after Carl's death, and I claimed the same stuff — that you should leave me and TJ, that you needed someone better, that your life would be better if we weren’t a part of it — how much did it rip you up? ’Cause even if I hadn’t told you this before, you would have to understand how it’s tearing my insides to shreds hearin’ you think the same.”

Calm. He had to stay calm or he’d be alone again.

“I’m right,” he whispered.

“I have to disagree.”

“I —” his voice went up. He switched tactics and spoke to his brother. “Merle, talk some sense into her. I failed. This is it, this is—”

“—You did screw shit up like a royal turd, but your lady would rip my danglers off if I went along with your pretty little pity party.”

Believe it or not, the tough love helped. Felt genuine, as if Merle really was shouting some sense into him. It felt so real.

He caught his wife giving Merle an air high-five. “Thank you, Merle.”

In hindsight, Daryl figured it must’ve be because Merle, in Daryl’s imagination, had to raise his metal arm to return the five. He taunted Y/N, “You’re welcome, peg-leg.”

Dream or not, Daryl was fixing to bark, but his wife playfully kicked her own prosthetic and taunted back, “Love you, gimpy.”

His brother was smug. “Square.”

As if Y/N hadn’t heard that before.“Trailer trash.”

As if Merle hadn’t heard that before. “Goody-two shoes.”

“Two shoes? Ahem,” Y/N drawled as prim and proper as a southern belle. “Did we not just establish how I only require but one shoe these days?”

Merle slapped his thigh and cackled like a hyena and Daryl couldn’t help but do the same. Y/N joked about her missing calf like she got paid for it, pirate jokes to no end.

Daryl hadn’t felt this light in months, not even close to it since leaving home.

…And to think, it was all a lie.

All fake.

They weren’t really there. Not his wife, not his dead brother. It was all in his head.

“Oh, my sweet mangy hick. Enough moping and angst, enjoy the moment! Merle and I really did a fair job on our banter just there. And you never know, Merle could really be here, seein’ as he’s dead.”

“Y/N, I even miss bickering with ya, goddamn,” he breathed.

“It is one of our love languages. That reminds me — you’re doing great with the French, Dare!”

She can’t be serious. Or, rather, he himself can’t be serious. “Babe, I ain’t spoken a word of it. The letters don’t matter half the time. I swear, these people sound drunk.”

Merle snickered, “Hell, even I speak better French than him. Voulez vous coucher av—”

“—Well, I meant like when you used the dictionary to translate that conjugated verb.” Her voice had gone down when she said this and it sounded, well…how it usually sounded when she was turned on. “If I were there, the part where I’d push your suspenders off your shoulders would drive me wild…”

Stay calm or you’ll wake up, Daryl.

And you realllly don’t want to start a sex dream with some other chick in the room. A nun!

“Get a room, horndogs. The word was ‘conjugated,’ not ‘conjugal,’” Merle spat. “This is why you got all them kids.”

His wife made one of her signature huffs, but didn’t say nothing back to Merle. Into Daryl’s ear, she sympathized, “Being horny is so annoyin’.”

Ha. Blushing even in his dreams. Part of him wondered if he was cracking up in his sleep, too, but either way, it felt good. Felt real. It felt so, so real. “I don’t even know what ‘conjugated’ means, Y/N.”

“Yes you do, otherwise I wouldn’t say it. I’m a figment of your imagination, remember?” Aw man, why’d she have to nuzzle him in the crook of his neck? He loved it when she did that. Mmm, hot damn it felt so real… “And you know that you doin’ something like conjugating a verb in another language would be sexy to me.”

“I told y’all jackrabbits to keep your britches on. Now, Daryl: ‘conjugate’ is when you make the verb agree grammatically with the subject. You’ve heard that word before,” Merle explained. Seemed out of character. And the room looked strange, there was—it was another room now?

Daryl’s thoughts turned to when Y/N and Rosita would speak Spanish. Listening as Judith helped TJ and RJ with phonics. Watching Georgia sing to baby Louise that song Siddiq had taught her in, what language was it?

“Hey. Dummy,” Merle scoffed. “You’re driftin’ off, sweet boy. Gotta stay a teensy bit lucid if you want us here.”

So that’s why the room had just looked different. He’d been slipping.

“I still don’t get how this happens, which is why I think you’re actually here,” Daryl said to both of them. “Merle, you’re probably in…somewhere in-between.”

“What, I don’t get to be in heaven yet? Y/N, you hearin’ this uppity sumbitch?”

“He still has trouble believing in such things, Merle, especially lately. I prayed for your soul, so I got hope.”

“Thank you, sister.”

“Anytime.” Y/N looked up at Daryl and smiled. “Then what about me, dude? I ain’t dead, pinky promise. So, how is it that I come to be here?”

Yeah, he’ll be as sappy as he wants with his wife of ten years. “Maybe you’re dreamin’ about me, too.”

Merle’s kissy noises were interrupted by Daryl firmly telling him to get out after which Y/N smooched him harder than she’d had in his imagination since he’d left America. The smell of her, the sounds she made, the way she would lift her head so he could bury his face in her neck, it all felt so real.

It was when she ran her hand lower down his abdomen and almost reached his you-know-what that it all stopped cold. “Sorry! Aw, shoot — Merle! Get back in here, quick, we got carried away! Well, t-technically it was all you, Dare, but — just, please don’t get a stiffy with a nun in the room!”

“Someone should put that on a shirt,” his brother called.

“Ew, no, Merle! Good Moses, maybe I really should ought to be there if you’re startin’ to imagine messed up t-shirt slogans.” She was only teasing. “Ooh, but if I were really there I could meet little Sister Sylvie! So far, I like her.”

“I knew you would.” Daryl grinned. “The way she is with the boy, she reminds me of you.”

If only you were really here, angel.

Wait, no, I don’t want you here because you wouldn’t be safe. I need you safe.

She brought his hand to her lips. “I know what you meant, sugar.”

Unexpectedly, the nun shifted on the bed, nearly jolting him fully awake.

Slow breaths. Keep your eyes shut, do not open them!

He kept them shut tight and pictured where Y/N had been to try and keep her there.

“What am I, chopped pig’s feet?” Merle grunted.

Daryl relaxed. Merle was still there, and he got back the feeling of Y/N beside him.

“You know,” his wife considered. While she was still there, he was having trouble visualizing her. Was he still close to waking up? “That Sister Isabelle is willin’ to risk sharing a room with a strange American says a lot about how much she’ll give to protect the boy and the others here.”

“Still damn weird she didn’t just share a room, the three of ’em.”

“It is. It’s really weird.” Y/N rested her forehead on his chest. He felt the warmth of her breathing against him. If he focused really hard, he could just about imagine the feel her heartbeat, too. “Maybe she’s fixing to be the first line of defense, with all them other kids livin’ here.”

“Still weird,” he grunted. “Hey, where’d my—” He looked around in his imagination at the room. “Where’d my brother go?”

“Maybe he wanted another peach. Or, maybe you're too close to wakin’ up. Be careful, darling.”

He breathed slowly and kept his eyes locked shut. His frustration was growing. It had felt so real, why was it going away?

Calm. Stay calm so she’ll stay.

“It was also unusual,” Y/N thought, “how Sister Izzy—”

“—Sister Izzy?”

He imagined that her mouth would have twisted in embarrassment. “Yes, I’d probably definitely give her that nickname. You sure know how to portray me realistically.” She started again, “It’s unusual how she didn’t accommodate for your maybe-not-wantin’-to-be-seen-in-the-tub-by-a-nun. By anyone, for that matter. Although,” she reconsidered, “they were nurses who had to change your undies and cauterize your wound, weren’t they?” When he pictured her bottom lip beginning to tremble, he held her closer. “Oh, I hate that they all died but for two! What has this world come to? Why would those men kill them?”

That was something.

The dream got easier to maintain. He felt the curve of her waist. The rise and fall of her chest. It felt real again. It felt so, so real.

Relieved, he didn’t know what to say at first other than, “The water was cloudy enough.” When he was getting treated, bathed, doctored, how hard he wished it was Y/N doing it. Another thing that made him ache, watching them nuns give him medical attention when for the past 12 years it’d almost always been his wife.

He breathed out heavily. “Dunno, when she was in there, it wasn’t too uncomfortable.”

“The habit can have that effect on some. The crucifixes and religious artworks hopefully brought some peace, too.”

“Habit?”

“Nun outfit.”

He tried to hold her even tighter. The way it felt more real than before encouraged him, got him nearly falling off his seat with excitement that he got her back!

Except, the excitement turned into panic that he might lose this moment because he was so happy, as fake as it was.

And it sent him over the edge. Just like that, he was awake. Very awake. And alone. No Y/N, no Merle.

He blinked as the room came into focus.

None of it was real. He’d, he'd known that.

And now he was awake. Lying on some flat, shitty, tiny bed, an ocean away, in a country full of people he didn’t understand, that had walkers who burned you when they touched you, and soldiers who shot up a convent full of nuns who patched up strangers and were only trying to keep a little boy safe.

He didn’t even have his ring anymore. All he had was a snippet on a voice recorder that told the world his name and how badly he'd fucked up.

Daryl turned onto his side, the pain from his burned arm screaming at him, but he didn’t give one flying fuck. Y/N wasn’t there anymore because his stupid ass had woken up! He’d earned the pain, he needed it, he deserved it.

Quietly, he thought to hell with it and let himself weep. He was so fucking done with all this bullshit.

He wanted Y/N back. He wanted his kids back. The fuck kind of brainless jackass was he, leaving them for so long, so much? And for what?

To "see what's out there?"

As if he'd find people who had a cure?

To bring Rick and Mich home? If Rick is even alive, if Michonne is alive.

To transport some creepy French boy to a group of weirdos grasping at the hope of some imaginary friend in the sky who damns them if they don’t do all the rules in the world that He’d let go to shit as a punishment or test?

Really, was Daryl that much of a guilt-ridden jerk-off to still say yes to whatever Maggie asks him to do? It’s a hopeless fu—

“Daryl, I love you so much. Please don’t blaspheme.”

“Y/N?” I thought you was gone. No, you were gone, I woke up! “You’re back?” Holy shit, thank you. Thank you! Thank you, Whoever's up there.

That small, shy smile melted all the ice he’d just had in his heart. “Try not to wake all the way again?”

He didn’t waste any more time blubbering like an idiot, he reached for her and held on. It was still a dream, so he had to be careful to not get too excited or do anything too stimulating. And, don’t worry, he wasn’t about to willingly get a hard-on when there was a nun next to him.

He just needed to have Y/N in his arms again so he could make it through the next 5 minutes without going insane!

For 12 years, she’d been there, loving him in one way or another. For 10 years they’d been husband and wife. Without her, without their kids there, in that strange, foreign place, he was losing himself so quick it brought him to his knees with shame.

Her lips pulled away for a moment. “I wouldn’t agree that you’re losing yourself. I watched Shaney lose himself, it looked different. Daryl, I’m serious,” she insisted. “Listen: did you not save that dad and daughter even after they robbed you?”

Big whoop. “You know what those guerrilla shits would’ve done to her." The same thing that got done to you. "And those assholes would prolly have made the old man watch and killed me regardless.”

“Yeah, but you also went back to try and save that gaggle of nuns from those jar-head pieces of shit, that’s got to count for somethin’.” Wait, that was Merle’s voice. He was back, too?

Daryl looked over at the window to see his brother there once more. Merle winked. “My baby brother, the hero. Stay zen if you’re fixing to keep us here, now. Keep hittin’ that sweet spot between dreamland and the real world.”

Y/N beamed at Merle before turning back to Daryl. “And did you not help those children get the medicine, Dare? Heck, now they got access to that whole castle full of supplies and it’s so much more secure. Um, m-minus the moat full of dead ones.”

“I lied to those kids out my ass, Y/N. Lied and didn’t give a damn.”

“And you ensured none of them got hurt, then promptly admitted the lie with what I’d call purity of heart.”

“I cut that boy’s mule loose without a second thought. You see that? He loved that thing.”

“Better than to have failed to back up the cart in time, which would have happened and would have gotten all five of y’all eaten. And it was almost fast enough to escape by the looks of it. One dead mule to the benefit of four living souls is a good outcome.”

“What’d my sister-in-law say earlier?” Merle asked. “Brains, balls, and grit? Not to sound all mushy gushy, but she’s right.”

The memories of falling into that moat of walkers seized him, made him start to panic again. No brains, no balls, he almost died right in there—

“—Baby, shh,” Y/N hushed. Her arms tightly wrapped around him the way she would when his nightmares hit bad. “You survived. No bites. No burns. Not even a broken bone, I don’t know how you managed it again.” Her lips, her chest, her hands pressed against him. It felt so, so real. “But you always seem to.” She kissed him. “You’ve got brains.” Another kiss. “Balls.” A deeper kiss. “And grit. And you’re alive, sweetheart. There’s always hope as long as your heart is still beating.”

“How will I get out of this?”

“You’ll find a way,” she said with confidence. “You simply don’t know what the way is yet.”

“What do I do about the nuns?”

“Help them keep Laurent safe, of course — if you choose to do so.”

I don’t want to.

“You don’t have to,” she assured him.

I want to go home.

“And you will,” she assured him once again.

I don’t want to help them. I don’t want to. I don’t fucking want to!

…God damn it. “But I should.”

“You ain’t obligated,” Y/N responded, but with hesitation that time. “It is up to you.”

Merle was the one to point out, “It’s that conscience of yours, kid. Sometimes you just can’t help but help. I’ve been watchin’ you these past, what is it, 11 years since I got my crusty white ass killed?” He chuckled to himself as he shaved off the final bit of peach before flicking the pit away. “Can’t be too mad at it when it roped you a fine piece of ass to squeeze at night and how many kids because of it?”

“Merle,” Y/N warned.

Daryl could feel his anger rising.

“What, ain’t you relieved I can’t call you ‘sweet little virgin’ no more, son?” Merle kept egging on.

“Daryl, this isn’t really him. Don’t get angry or we’ll both disapp—”

“—So, my thinking is, Daryl, that you just won’t be able to help yourself from bringing that little sissy boy to them nutjobs —”

“Shut up!” Daryl burst out — and opened his eyes in real time. Again? Is he that much of an idiot?

His pulse was pounding. Dread and self-loathing flooded his mind, how stupid could he be?

Immediately, he squeezed his eyes shut in a desperate hope to get his wife and brother back. He focused, focused, focused, prayed, pretended, focused…

“Daryl,” came her voice.

He could hear Y/N, but not see her. It was clear that it was all him forcing the memory of her voice back. It was all in his head.

“Why bother caring that it’s in your head, sugar? Breathe slowly and focus on the feel of my body against yours. I don’t wanna leave you."

“Y/N, I need to get back,” he panted. “I can use their help to do that. Those religious people, the Union of Hope or whoever, Isabelle says they got a good radio. I need that to get back home.”

“Well, there you go! I trust you.”

He reached up to tangle his fingers where her hair would be. His imagination wasn’t letting it happen, so he focused with gratefulness that at least he could still hear her.

“Just don’t abuse their trust, and you’ll be alright,” she softly pleaded.

Don’t break their trust? “Angel, you don’t know what I did to end up in this mess.”

Of all the ways he could have daydreamed her reacting, it was that her laughter filled the room. “For the last time, my mangy hick, I am a figment of your imagination and quite literally know everythin’ inside that brain of yours. And I still love you despite that ‘shit-show’ what landed you here.”

He brought to mind the color of her eyes, wanting, wanting, begging for a miracle that would make her truly there with him so he could stare into them all night. “What would you say if I asked ‘that if I don’t find nothing, what good am I?’”

“Y/N, you can blame our raising for that shit right there,” his brother commented.

“You poor boys. Broken people sometimes make for broken kids.”

Gently, he started to perceive the way she would rub her cheek against his chest when she’d lay down with him. “Daryl? If I were here, I’d say things to try and make it stick in your head that your worth ain’t dependent on what you can offer.”

“What does it depend on, then?”

“Careful, you’re treading into religious waters now, and I ain’t sure you’ve got the bandwidth tonight. But God is involved,” she hinted.

This mess was hopeless, wasn’t it? No winning, no out, no happy ending.

“Angel, I can’t come home empty-handed.” He squeezed his eyes tighter and willed himself to not lose his cool yet again. “I can’t come home with no Rick or Michonne, no cure, no nothin’ but a burn, more nightmares, and more lives on my conscience.”

“You can,” she answered simply. “It ain’t all on you. No — please, don’t get any more upset or you’ll wake up again! Daryl, I’ve already slipped so far away!” He heard his wife begin to cry, but the sound went further and further from him. All he could see were the backs of his eyelids.

Still, he held on as best he could. “Please stay here, angel.”

“I-I would, sweetheart.”

“When I’m back, I won’t even want to leave the walls to hunt if it would mean not being next to you, d’you know that?”

“Let someone else hunt. You’ve done enough to last a lifetime.” Her voice was hoarse the way it had been when she’d said those same words to him about a year and a half ago. “More than enough. Oh Daryl, I’m so sorry we’re going.”

“Not yet, angel, please don’t!”

“Use all those things makin’ you homesick as reasons to hope. Do it for me, sugar. Get yourself home again. Don’t die, don’t get bit.”

“I won’t. I’ll get back to you. Tell the kids I love ’em?”

There was silence.

Stillness.

Daryl lay there, accepting that he couldn’t feel Y/N next to him anymore.

His throat tightened. “Angel?”

He doesn’t know why he bothered. She was gone, he knew it. He ran his finger where his ring should’ve been, if he hadn’t lost it.

“Angel,” he tried again.

Silence.

“Babe, please. Please.”

Silence.

“Y/N, please, one more time, angel.”

Silence.

The pain in him was hollow and cold.

Feeling small and helpless, he lifted his arms above his head and held back a wail of despair. He closed his eyes again and, in his head, he cried out in desperation, “Merle?”

At first, there was no answer. He hadn't expected one. Why should he?

But then he heard a quiet, low, “I’m still here.”

Merle spoke slowly and heavily, almost as if it hurt him to admit it. “I don’t think she’s gonna come back tonight, Daryl. You’ve already fallen out a few times. I ain’t gonna be here much longer, neither. You know that.”

Any strength he had left seeped out like a stab wound, leaving him crying like a child. “I can’t see you anymore.”

“I know, little brother.”

“It felt so real.”

“It sure as hell did. I think you needed it, even if it hurts like a bitch now.”

It had felt so, so real!

But it wasn’t. “I’m alone,” he choked out.

“Nothin’ you can’t handle.” For a moment Daryl could make out his brother’s face again. “You’re a tough sumbitch, so I’d advise you act like it. Quit blubberin’ like a baby and wipe the snot out your nose.”

Daryl sniffed and tried to get a grip.

“Good.” Merle’s voice began to echo. He was almost gone, too. “Now listen here: don’t die, don’t get bit. Get your ass back where you belong.”

The room came into view.

The echoing stopped.

The hollow, cold pain he’d felt at knowing they were gone there turned sharp and hot. Turns out, it was actually the throbbing in his arm. Daryl really had turned onto his side, which positioned his burned arm underneath him. He strained to get off it and flip onto his back.

You know what? The pain from his burned arm didn’t hold a candle to the ache in his chest.

Were those tears on his face, too? Guess he must’ve started crying for real in his sleep. Made sense considering how real it all felt. It all felt so real.

If only his pulse would stop racing, he felt sick.

He was getting damned old.

Instinctively, he tried to fiddle with his wedding band, which is when he recalled yet again how he’d lost it. Only a faint tan line remained.

He closed his eyes, exhausted, and chewed at his lip. Another tear or two escaped and ran hot down his cheek.

A strange part of him wished he hadn’t lied to Laurent about having a wife and family back home. At the time he said it so it wouldn't hurt as much, but…

“You deserve a happy ending, too,” the kid had told him. Just like his Judith had, when she saw how low and unworthy he begun to feel. She told her auntie Y/N, too, of course, not that his wife wasn’t unaware of how twisted his head had gotten into thinking he was no good. It didn’t feel twisted to him, it felt honest. He didn’t deserve them. They were too good.

His wife’s words to him played again in his mind. He may have just been making all that shit up in his brain, but he was only remembering a mix of real things that she’d told him before, over and over in the hopes his stupid ass would accept it one day.

“Despite how you feel right now, my vote is you will get that happy ending. It ain’t coincidence that Laurent said so just like our Judith did! How’s that for a reason to hope?”

He did need a reason. It was getting harder and harder to hold onto hope. Any hope.

So, maybe, a weird kid with long hair like TJ’s who drew a picture of some washed-up bum on a beach three weeks before Daryl showed up was reason enough to hope. He could grasp onto that.

If it would get him home, hell yeah, he could do that.

How the same weird kid told him what his niece had and what his wife had could be reason enough, too. He could grasp onto that as well, if it would get him home. He could do that for them.

Daryl ran his hand in slow, gentle circles along his stomach like Y/N would. Maybe he’d been doing this in his dream, which is why it felt so real.

It had all felt so, so real.

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[babyangelsky]

The maids kids know everything

Yeah so I'm not done yapping about expressions this week and ya'll can blame @almayver , @slayerkitty , @prapaiwife , @fallsouthwinter , and @crispywizardtale for enabling me.

I wanted to talk more about Meena in my expressions post because the second I saw her adorable, sweet happy face go from this

to this the second she saw her grandfather waiting for her after school, I knew we were going to be in for a lot.

And boy howdy, were we.

First though, can I say how much I already LOVE Nina? Baby girl is 10 years old and she absolutely blew me away. She's doing a great job. Her expressions as Meena are clear and excellent and telling in the very same way that Tongrak's are. It makes it feel like they're really related and like she's grown up around him her whole life and picked up his mannerisms, it's incredible to see.

Of course, that also meant that she ripped my heart out.

Meena is sweet and cute and intelligent and it's obvious that she's the absolute light of Tongrak's life. She's also very precocious, which means that she knows everything to an extent that no child should.

This baby girl is very aware of how messed up her family is. She knows her grandparents' history, she knows her mother is afraid of her grandfather, she knows her uncle is even more afraid of her grandfather, and even worse than all that, she knows she should be afraid of her grandfather.

When her grandpa shows up at her school, she knows to take a picture and then go in the opposite direction of wherever he is. She knows to tell Tongrak right away. She makes the decision not to tell her mother because she knows it'll stress her out.

She says THIS.

Do you know how fucked up it is for a child to say this so casually?

For all that Tongrak and Kwan have been traumatized and harrowed by their upbringing, it's clear to me that they've done what they can to shield Meena from suffering because of it too. She seems like a bright, happy little girl.

But it's precisely because they're harrowed by it that Meena knows as much as she does. Kids see things. They understand more than they're ever given credit for because so few adults see them as actual people. Even if neither her mother nor her uncle said a word about their family history, Meena would pick up on all the things that are wrong and all the things not being said.

For god's sake, she won't even let her uncle pick her up from school because she knows he's terrified of her grandfather. No child should have the things on their mind that she does.

Yes, it's fucked up that there's even anything for her to be aware of in the first place and that she's having to think about comforting the adults in her life, but being aware of things helps to protect her. There's less of a chance she'll be hurt by her grandfather or anything else if she knows to run away and that she has safe places and people to go to.

And that's why it matters so much that Mahasamut told her the truth about his feelings for and relationship with Tongrak.

No one is ever direct with children. No one dares to be frank with them or meet them on a level they can process and understand because again, children aren't always seen as people. There's always this feeling of "you can't say that to a child" or "that's too much for a child!" and I'll agree that most children don't need to know absolutely everything.

Meena isn't most children, however.

I didn't pick up on it the first time for my expressions post, but when I went back and rewatched the scene in Tongrak's living room, I clocked this expression from Mahasamut.

He makes this face the second Meena brings up her grandfather. He wasn't really paying that much attention to the conversation before this but after? He zeroes in because he knows it's important.

There is no world in which Mahasamut wasn't going to offer--insist even--to pick Meena up from school. Ain't no way. He's just learned exactly how cruel and fucked up Tongrak's father is and now here this child is telling her uncle about how she saw that same man was waiting for her after school. In this exact moment he set himself up as one of those safe people for Meena to go to.

And I really think Mut realizes that in order to be that for her, he has to be honest with her. He tells her and she understands because she is intimately familiar with what it means for one person to pay another for their company. Once he's honest with her, he can then reassure her that he isn't with Tongrak for the money and that he sincerely cares about him.

Meena wants a happily ever after for her uncle. She can pick up on the sadness and loneliness in his novels. She sees that Tongrak takes care of everyone but that no one takes care of him.

When Mut asks her to root for him to get to be the one to take care of Tongrak and that he's confident that he can be, her whole face lights up and she has fight back her smile.

Maybe most kids don't need this level of frankness, but Meena does. I can only imagine how betrayed and hurt she would feel if she were to find out later from someone else that her beloved uncle's relationship began with money like her grandparents' relationship did because she has already seen how that ended.

Mahasamut has known this child for like an hour and already he's treating her and her feelings with the same respect and consideration that he shows to Tongrak. And that is exactly what she and any child deserve from the adults in their life.

[intheshadowsbehindyou]

Mercs proposing hc?? So basic but Im literally one corny mf

The TF2 Mercs proposing to their partners

WARNING: Mild gore gifts because this is the Mercs we’re talking about here.

—————————————————————————

Scout:

- Biggest panic attack of his fucking life. Has no idea how to function like a normal human being anymore. It was that feeling of being in love with somebody all over again and needing to tell them. What’s worse about this though is that marriage is a huge commitment. One that many aren’t ready for yet. What if you reject him and he messes this relationship up?

- Goes to Spy for comfort. In all honesty he’s just a very damaged little boy on the inside and scared that he is incapable of receiving unconditional love. The other Mercs catch him behind the base crying into Spy’s shoulder on the curb while Spy holds him. He’s telling Spy how much he loves you; and how terrified he is that you cannot return that same vow. Spy knows the feeling. “Shh, mon lapin.” Boy howdy Spy’s certainly grateful that Scout’s mom didn’t teach him a word of french.

- Spy has to shove Scout into your room to actually finally get him to do it. “Your idiot boyfriend has a few words for you, and apparently I have to be present or i’m certain he’ll break down crying again.” He says to you. While poor Scout curls up into a ball on the floor.

————————————————————————-

Soldier:

- First of all, why him? Second of all, this is the type of guy to go all out and spend half the money he earned in mercenary work to get one of those “will you marry me Y/N?” banners hooked up to a plane. Complete with the pilot being ejected and the plane crashing nose first into a rock formation. Apparently that was 100% intentional because a bunch of confetti came out of the explosion. You don’t know if you should be horrified at the audacity, or head over heels.

- Brings you an entire necklace of ears. But that’s not all! For limited time only you can get one of soldiers’ severed heads that was purposely boiled and skull cut into the shape of a helmet! Great, right? “Wow, what type of animal is this?” You ask. “A DOG. PACKAGED WITH PURE, NO ARTIFICIAL FLAVOR, PASTEURIZED AMERICAN GLORY!” well that’s not reassuring. “OOOHH SAAAAY CAAAAN YOU SEEE—“ Soldier immediately gets hit over the head by Heavy and knocked unconscious.

- After the initial silliness dies down you see adoration as you tend to his awful head wound. Maybe Heavy knocked the stupidity out of him? No. He’s still insane. Soldier grabs your wrist as you apply alcohol to his wound and squeezes your hand. “Somebody like me doesn’t deserve somebody like you.” He says. “Bullshit, Soldier.” You say, leaning in for a kiss.

—————————————————————————

Demoman:

- He can only achieve this when drunk off his mind. Not to mention it arrives in the most unromantic way possible. But it doesn’t make you love him any less. He holds you close to him after a New Years party at the base and pats your back. “Jus’ so you know, you’d look mighty fine with a ring on your finger.” He flirts, getting incredibly physically affectionate. He makes sure never to cross your boundaries.

- “Me mum would kill me but fuck all. y’know? Old wench’s days are numbered anywae. We could live ina nice cottage by the sea.. If ya want wee lil’ bastards I’ll actually take care of em. I’d have to stop me drinkin tho.” He says, pecking your neck. His remaining eye is pleading with you to say yes. “Pleaaase?”

- Has no recollection of these events in the morning so imagine his dumbfounded expression when one of the Mercs asks about his new fiancé. Cue the embarrassment mixed with pride and excitement.

—————————————————————————

Engineer:

- Will 100% go to your window in the dead of night and sing a song for you on his guitar. Particularly I imagine this would be the contender. You have no idea this is even a marriage proposal. You just think he’s being incredibly sappy. Imagine the surprise while mid song he pulls out a small box and throws it up and down recklessly like a baseball. You’re slowly beginning to catch on as he opens it with his free fingers after finishing the song.

- Complete overconfident show off. He pep-talked himself before all this and rehearsed his performance repeatedly. By using the wrangler and effortlessly throwing the box up in the air and propelling it forward with a single bullet, the sentry successfully aided in getting the box up to you. You don’t even know how you managed to catch it, to be honest.

- Tips his hardhat to you. “Whadda say? Marry me?” He can barely contain his smile. Both excited and somewhat relieved he pulled that off.

—————————————————————————

Heavy:

- “Heavy made you dead person crown..” He walks into your room one day and puts it on your head. It’s a bunch of severed ears meant to resemble a flower crown. “Hey, thanks big guy.” You’re grateful for the gift, being a crazed Merc yourself is it really any surprise? You give him a huge kiss on the cheek. Heavy looks thrilled that you accepted his gift. Which is very much unlike him. Usually he’s reserved. Maybe he’s just having a good day?

- Well.. you eventually find out why. That was apparently his way of proposing to you. Soldier nudges you the next morning and teases you for being engaged to Heavy. You’re horrified to say the least. You had no idea this meant marriage. Not that you wouldn’t marry him. But what about his gun Sasha? Wouldn’t she feel jealous? You’ve been with Heavy so long you keep referring to that damn thing as a person.

- Immediately upon seeing you; goes up to you and gives you a list of stuff he wants at this wedding. There’s even a blank page for you to write your own needs. He seems oddly motivated to plan this out months before it actually happens. There is countless mentions of Russian authors he wants to attend the wedding. As if they’d ever consider going to a stranger’s wedding. “If they won’t come then Heavy will crush them..” He says. Same goes for your guests.

—————————————————————————

Pyro:

- Wow.. Kind of the most normal out of all of them. For the most part. If TF2 took place in modern day they’d propose with a ringpop but all they have is a bag of candy and an actual ring (That they may or may not have stolen from someone in Tuefort.)

- They get on their knees and offer the ring to you in an extremely professional manner. It’s quite surreal to see Pyro pull off something so domestic and normal when he’s always destroying stuff with fire. In fact this is a little too normal.. This is Team Fortress we’re talking about here. Shouldn’t something be wacky happening right about now? It’s like the perfect opening for slapstick. Through your cries of love and laughter you begin to feel anxious at the back of your head.

- Yup.. There it is. Pyro tells you that Scout offered to be the ‘Ring bear’ for the wedding. There’s Scout dressed up in a cutesy teddy bear costume. You’re certain that’s not how it works. “Just for the record, if you tell anybody about this, I’ll fuckin’ saw off both your knees boston sandwich style. Capeesh?” He says. You have no idea what that means so you quickly agree.

————————————————————————-

Sniper:

- Afraid he’s going to mess it up, much like Scout. Gets incredibly physically ill as a result from stress and isolates himself in his camper van. You’re convinced he wants to tell you something but you have no idea what it is. One day on the frontlines an arrow narrowly misses your face and embeds itself into the wall next to you. You were about to turn around and bombard Sniper until you saw the note attached to it. “Pardon, Will you marry me? -Sniper.” With a very worried sad face drawn next to the note. He even bothered to draw his hat on it.

- Disbelief clouds your face at first. Sniper? Marry another Merc? You’re in shock. This isn’t something you’d ever suspect from a guy like him. But your initial thought makes way for an uncontrollable smile.

- He literally will not approach you first after this. You have to knock on his camper van because god knows he won’t be even able to face his team for months. As you jump into his arms and kiss him he immediately pulls you inside to love on you in private.

———————————————————————-

Medic:

- WOULD RATHER SHOOT HIMSELF

- Just kidding. But he wishes he were dead right now. How could he do something so… Un-mad-sciencey? Marriage is just a concept brought upon by money hungry people. It only exists within the mind… Yet, that’s how he feels. An eternal vow to you is something he wishes to do. He’s already planned to make you a god alongside him once the time came so you could be his beloved consort forever. It reminded him of the greek story of soulmates.

- Gets a little fruitier than usual. The most feminine moan you ever heard left this man’s body as you brushed against him while trying to help him grab a syringe he dropped. This man gets unusually hornier and that’s how you know something’s up.. “Looking up my skirt, I see!” He says, as you glance up his long lab coat. There isn’t anything there but his pants so you roll your eyes. “Ah yes.. “ You respond. You decide he’s just clingy and horny as usual and carry about your assistance. You’re not in the mood for that. He never even bottoms so he’s feigning it anyway.

- “Err—Uh— Ho! Wouldn’t it be just shameful if I knew what was going on inside your head?” He asks. “Alright, i’ll bite. What are you saying, Doc?” You sigh. He fixes his glasses back up on his face thoughtfully. “One body, one mind. That would be quite intriguing don’t you think? If we were to.. Become one.” He placed an odd amount of emphasis on that, as if the thought was simply music to his ears. Lord he’s creepy. Medic grabs you and holds you close to him. “Think of the possibilities. We’d never be lonely again. I could stitch our bodies together and we could feel each other’s essence. Forever.”

- “Medic, you good?” You ask. Although his words were strangely flattering nonetheless in their own way. You smile at him. He seems to be lost in the idea. Fantasies of being with you for eternity flood his head. Particularly ones where you’re both a weird hybrid god. Weirdest marriage proposal world record goes to Medic.

—————————————————————————-

Spy:

- No, no no no no no. He can’t do this again. Marriage never worked out for him. After losing Scout’s mom and many partners that followed, he couldn’t bare hurting somebody like that again. His job always got in the way of what he truly desired but he had to live with it. This life chose him after all. His hand was forced into this position. Seeing your bright smile for the rest of his days was all he ever wanted. His urges to get up and say something to you were too strong.

- Has to metaphorically slap himself in the face and remind himself to act like a fucking adult. He wasn’t a little rambunctious teenager in Paris anymore. Yet he felt like one whenever he saw you. Such boyish feelings for an old put together gentleman like him. Spy decided to trust you and himself. But if something went wrong he wouldn’t hesitate to jump off a fucking cliff. Spy would stare at his reflection in the bathroom mirror for hours and contemplate his decision before making it.

- He proposes to you under a starry moonlit night. Not even bothering to kneel down, he slides the box across the balcony to you. “Well?” he asks, taking a long drag of his cigarette. His eyes fixated on the horizon. “Do I have to say it?” He asks. “Yes..” You tell him. Your eyes gleaming with joy. You never felt happier in your entire life. “Fine.. Will you marry m—“ He couldn’t even finish before you jump on him, ultimately knocking you both down.

[doodler-jpeg]

Thinking about self aware! MW characters (plus Roach) who absolutely adore your laugh.

CW// gender neutral, unfunny men deserve to be slandered, favoritism is seen, badly translated Scottish and Spanish, this is based off of my interpretation (you can find the main fic link on my account)

Feedback and criticism are highly encouraged! Please tell me if anything is badly translated, out of character, or something else!

Ghost actively makes jokes that are guaranteed to make you at least giggle. Even through this weird mental barrier (for him) and your monitor's screen, it's so invigorating to hear some form of joy out on the field, especially when it's from you. It just makes that fuzzy feeling in his heart multiply.

"Thank you, thank you - I'll be here all night."

Gaz takes absolute advantage of this. He makes a few jokes here and there, but keeps it to interesting stories. In some instances, he just starts laughing out of nowhere and you can't help but join in. It's very clear he gets bitches on the daily.

"Didn't know I was that funny, but I'll take what I can get."

Price uses all of his past experiences with courting to get, at the very least, a giggle or two out of you. He doesn't have millenium of experience (contrary to your belief), but he's certain that his "old-man" charisma and his weird way with words. But he still tells some older jokes, so your assumption that he's older isn't completely wrong (he was totally raised by his grandparents).

"Would you like to hear a story?" *Tells one of the pointless joke stories that lasts for 10 minutes and has the stupidest punchline*

Roach can't really come up with ways to make you laugh. His preference of keeping quiet and faceless doesn't really help, either. Instead, he tries to point out some enemy on the field, signing insults to them that you're sure to understand.

'His head looks like a donkey, and he acts like one, too.'

Soap physically cannot keep you from laughing. He doesn't even have to make a joke, you just start laughing. He believes it's because he's just an immediately funny dude, but you're not going to tell him that he looks stupid with that hairstyle. If he does tell any jokes, they're not even funny.

"Dinnae ken how come ye'r laughing, bit keep daein' it."

Alejandro tries, he really does, and it doesn't work most of the time. It's kind of funny seeing this overly-confident dude absolutely fumble because of his lack of realization that your personality and humor aren't really the same as the people he usually catches. On occasion, though, he does get a rise out of you and can't stop smirking about it for the rest of the day.

Valeria has subtle jokes that rely mainly on her tone, but those aren't her priority. She doesn't mean to be rude (lies usually, but with you?), but she does impressions of your laugh and then comments on it. Usually they're not bad, but it does feel demeaning sometimes.

"Me gusta esa risa. Jejejejeje."

"You know why Mexicans call Americans 'gringos'? ... Would you like to?"

Rodolfo doesn't always try to make you laugh - he still gets a bit disoriented that you're no physically there (which means he can't see your face, but what is he gonna do about it?). His humbleness and large range of jokes really comes through, especially since he'd been the family entertainer at parties. If you can understand simple jokes in Spanish? You're practically set to be unable to keep a straight face, and he loves it. (Even if he doesn't understand it, he'll turn it into a mini lesson so you do)

"¿Qué dijo el gato cuando chocó su carro? 'Miau-to.'"

Nikolai has a handful of Russian jokes at his disposal. Are you completely guaranteed to understand? No, and he doesn't expect you to. If you do understand Russian, boy howdy is he gonna have the time of his life! You won't be able to breathe properly until he's out of sight!

"You see, it's funny because-" *explains joke if you don't understand*

Laswell is a huge fan of subtle jokes. She often makes small, funny comments that get light-hearted chuckles out of her. However, she also has older humor, which means you're less likely to understand unless you, too, are old (which isn't likely, but it's still a possibility). She likes hearing you laugh and really does try to get some sort of connection with you, even if it doesn't work.

"What did the chicken say when it crossed the road? 'Damn it, I missed the bus.'"

Alex is a funny man. He's aware of his effect on people and uses it to his full advantage. As a people-pleaser, he makes it his duty to get you to laugh as much as possible. If he doesn't make you laugh, he'll make himself laugh, and then you laugh. He's totally not putting all his effort into jokes just to get you to laugh or anything. He's just that guy.

"Me? A tryhard? Whaaaat? Psh- as if."

Farah has no business with nonchalant jokes, but she makes them work. While she does like the sound of your voice, she doesn't want to force it. She believes that intentionally funny words can diminish any genuine laughter, so she sticks to half-assing it in hopes you at least giggle. That's not to say she doesn't try to get you to laugh - she just does it far less, since she can't see your face (but she can just imagine the glee on your face if you get the giggles because of her).

"What is your type of humor? Asking for a friend."

Graves is unintentionally funny. When he tries, he fails miserably. He says a southern phrase that might not be super known? You're cracking up. He doesn't get it, but at least you're going 'teehee'.

"What's so funny 'bout me sayin' cattywampus? It fits the situation!"

[gummydummy19]

Soft on me (male reader version)

Summary: every time you and Steve fuck, you do it his way, because Captain America is always in charge. But what happens when Stevie wakes up after an exhausting mission and finds himself tied to his bed, with you on top of him…

Content Warning: smut (anal sex), powerplay, Sub/Dom dynamics, teasing, bondage (steve is retrained), nicknames (Captain, Sweetheart,…), Nomad Stevie, fluff, Steve and reader are NOT in an established relationship at the beginning of this, use of "good boy" (both parties), top Steve, bottom reader.

A/N: since I've been getting a bunch of male reader requests I figured this would be the easiest way to ease the cravings :)) this is one of my old stories I rewrote to be male reader, I really hope you like it!!!

Disclaimer: male reader fics are not my forte. This was written by a women from a female point of view so I really hope you guys like it. Requests and feedback are always welcome, lmk if you wanna be on my taglist <3.

Before he even opened his eyes, he could feel the weight of your body straddling his.

“Morning!” you chirped, a wide grin plastered on your face.

Steve’s eyes fluttered open, immediately greeted with the sight of you on top of him.

You looked amazing, covered in hickeys and bruised from the night before The only thing you were wearing was a black, satin tie, and there was nothing but mischief in your eyes.

The second he tried to move, he could feel the tug on his wrists. The sound of the metal handcuffs rattling against the bars of his bedpost.

“Howdy there big boy, where do you think you’re going?” You teased.

“Untie me.” He simply said, entirely unamused.

“Now where’s the fun in that?” You asked, not planning on giving in so soon. 

“Fun huh? Well if that’s what you’re looking for, sweetheart, all you had to do was ask.”

“Not today, Captain. Because today, I’m in charge.” You stated with a proud smile.

“You realize I can easily just break these silly cuffs and bend you over my lap, right?” He said, already fed up with your games.

“Go ahead and try.” You dared him.

Steve felt the slightest bit of worry mixed with curiosity in his stomach as he stared up at you.

He chuckled before tugging hard on the cuffs, expecting them to snap at the movement. To his surprise, they didn’t budge.

“Vibranium.” You said, answering the question you knew lingered on his lips.

“I had Shuri make them for me a while ago. Been waiting for the perfect moment to break them in, although you and I both know, they won’t actually break, will they?”

Oh he was fuming.

“Get me out of these fucking cuffs!” He yelled.

“Oh would you relax, you big baby!” You chuckled, leaning down to press a kiss to his bearded cheek.

“You remember your safeword?” You asked, using the same tone he always used on you.

“This isn’t fucking funny,”

“Yeah well I’m not fucking laughing, am I? Now watch your language before I spank you.”

He only growled in response.

Although he was being grumpy, you knew he would use the safeword if you actually pushed him too far out of his comfort zone.

Giving him a lighthearted smile, you moved to press slow kisses all over his frown.

A deep sigh escaped through Steves nose. The way you peppered sweet kisses all over his face put him at ease.

“Fine.” He breathed. “What do you have in store for me, huh? Are you gonna use my body as you please? Come all over Captain’s cock?”

“Stop that.” You warned, swatting his chest.

“What?”

“Stop taking control! You’re tied up. I’m on top. My rules.” You argued.

“So you keep saying” he chuckled. “What exactly are ‘your rules’?”

Taking a second to think about his question, you huffed out in frustration.

“Cut me some slack, I’m not used to this” you whined, dropping your head on his chest.

The fabric of his cotton shirt felt heavenly against your skin. It was all soft and comfortable, and it smelled like him.

“You’re comfy.” You said. “Just give me a minute and I’ll figure out what to do next.”

His heart melted. You were like a cat, snuggling into his shirt. It did feel really nice, but he’d be damned if he’d just admit that to you.

“So you tied me to the bed, to cuddle?” He raised his brow, giving you an amused look.

“Maybe I did”

You wrapped your arms around his torso and nuzzled against his beard.

“Hmm, you smell good.” You hummed, pressing light kisses up his neck.

“You’re a horrible dom.” Steve raised his brow.

You shushed him and pressed your lips against his. Your hands slid over his shoulders to his hair, fingers tangling in his dark golden locks.

Your hips started grinding against his, cock rubbing against the growing bulge hidden in his pants.

Pulling your lips from his, you sat up straight, still grinding into him, slowly.

“I’m going to give you a lesson in patience.”

“You?” He straight up laughed in your face. “You’re the one begging for me to fuck you every time I so much as breath too close to you.”

Your face turned red. You didn’t even know if it was anger or embarrassment, but you were starting to get pissed.

This wasn’t going to work, not like this.

“Fine.” You huffed, stopping your movements. “You’re right, I do want Captain to fuck me.”

Your voice was sultry, silky smooth. Just how he liked it. Never breaking eye contact with Steve, you slowly slithered down his body, leaving teasing pecks all over his cotton covered chest and stomach until your face was right in front of his painfully hard cock.

Pulling up his shirt slightly, you pressed more kisses on his abdomen, above his hips, down his happy trail. Fingers eagerly tugging on his waistband before finally pulling out his fat dick.

Steve didn’t say a word, he just watched you intently. Registering your every move. He watched as you licked a long, firm stripe up the base of his length, all the way to his tip before circling it with your tongue.

“Oh fuck” he breathed. “There you go, just like that, good boy.”

Your tongue swirled over his slit, tasting the single drop of precum. But instead of taking him in your mouth, you just kept teasing him.

Pressing light kisses up and down his shaft. Fondling with his balls, until he groaned, bucking his hips into nothing.

“Ah ah,…patience.” You teased. “That shouldn’t be hard for you, right Captain?”

Steve growled, but it quickly turned into a whine as you latched your mouth around his dripping tip.

You hummed in delight, wanting to hear that sound again. And you weren’t disappointed, the vibrations of your moans against him made him loose his mind.

“Oh FUCK” he nearly screamed. Trying to get you to take him deeper, but you just pulled back every time he got too far.

This would usually be the part where he gripped your hair, forcing himself down your throat until you gagged around him.

Before you met Steve, you often opted for more…vanilla sex. Simply because no one you ever met did rough sex right.

Steve did. Oh he SO did. He respected you, you know he did. Which is exactly why it was so easy to give yourself to him, completely and entirely.

Sex with Steve is easily the best sex you’ve ever had. It was nice to have someone take over control when you needed it. Especially in your line of work. But lately you’ve just been wanting to try something new.

Well, not new for you, new for Steve.

A little TLC, if you will. You felt like you both deserved it, after the missions you’ve had.

You pulled away from him entirely. Sitting up as you watched Steve, tugging at the cuffs as he writhed and squirmed on the bed.

“My poor, Stevie.” You cooed, moving to lay beside him.

“When I get out of these damn cuffs-”

“- you’ll ruin me, I know I know.” You finished his sentence. “Don’t get ahead of yourself Captain Rogers. We’ve barely gotten started”

You turned on your side to face him, draping your leg over his, you snuggled against him and kissed his cheek, sweetly brushing your fingers through his hair.

“I wouldn’t have to tie you up if you could just learn to behave.”

He gave you a questioning look.

“Just trust me” you said, your hand travelled down his body, grabbing his still throbbing erection.

“Let me take care of you, Stevie.” You cooed, nibbling on his ear, slowly pumping his shaft

His breathing hitched, it was safe to say that Steve was a little confused.

“You’re going soft on me.” He whispered, making you smirk.

“And you’re getting hard on me.”

You moved to slide off his pants entirely before finally getting on top of him again.

The internal struggle visible in his eyes made you giggle.

“Steve, would you relax?”

“Untie me.” He asked yet again.

“Why?” You raised a brow.

“Because I want to touch you” his voice was softer than before. You could hear how hard he tried to sound stern. How hard he tried not to beg. 

You didn’t reply as you spit in your hand, reaching down to coat Steve's hard cock with your saliva. You reached over to the nightstand to grab the lube, giving him one more soft kiss before squeezing some of the sticky liquid on his cock. You gave him a few more strokes before finally sinking down on him carefully.

His eyes rolled back and he let out a satisfied groan. Even over his shirt, you felt the vibrations rumble in his chest as your fingertips pressed into the soft flesh, making you moan.

You slowly started riding him, slightly raising your hips with every sway, making his hard cock slip halfway out of your asshole every time before plunging back in as your cock rubbed against the patch of hair going up his lower belly.

You were in heaven.

“If I untie you, do you promise you’ll be a good boy?” You questioned. You were a mess, eyes closed and mouth slightly hanging open in pure bliss.

But Steve was stubborn. He kept his mouth shut and watched you ride him.

You groaned impatiently and grabbed his jaw, squeezing his cheeks between your fingers.

“I asked you a question, Steve.”

You squeezed your hole tightly around his throbbing cock, before stilling your movements.

“Are you going to be a good boy?”

Steve tried bucking his hips up in frustration but you didn’t move.

“I’ll take that as a no.”

Steve expected you to lift off him, tease him some more, just like he would do when you were being a brat. But you didn’t.

You kept moving at a slow, sensual pace. You whined as you trailed your hands over his chest, to his neck once more before moving them to your own body. The tingling sensation of his hot skin lingered on your fingers as you ran them over your own chest, imagining it were Steve’s rough hands softly caressing your skin.

As he watched you, and he felt you, Steve realized how handsome you were. Not that he had never noticed before, just not like this. Soft moans and whimpers tumbling from your lips as you moved on top of him, your fingers trailing over your soft skin.

His hands itched, god he would do anything to touch you right now, but he also noticed how being restrained from doing so made everything so much more intense.

It was different from when he had you tied up. You weren’t being as cruel as he would be. You didn’t toy with him as much and you weren’t nearly as mean, quite the opposite actually. You were being so soft and sweet.

That’s when it hit him. You didn’t want control. You just wanted some soft loving.

“Untie me”

“No.”

“Untie me, baby please?”

“Steve” you whined

“Untie me and I’ll give you what you want.”

You tore your eyes open, glaring down at him.

He let out a deep sigh before uttering the words “I’ll be a good boy.”

You couldn’t believe he actually said it. Steve never gave up control. Ever.

“Just let me touch you? Please?” He begged.

Steve Rogers. Captain freaking America, begging you to let him touch you.

He was right, you were a horrible dom.

You moved your hands to the cuffs. The fingerprint scanner Shuri had put in there proved to work perfectly as they clicked open the second your finger pad touched the middle part.

“You can keep the cuffs, just know that they only open with my touch” you said, flinging the piece of vibranium on the floor.

“Good, I don’t plan on using them with anyone else.” Steve breathed, sitting up as his hands flew to your waist.

He put his head against your chest, the side of his face pressed against your sternum.

“Steve” you exhaled. Part of you had expected him to take back control right away, flipping you over and fucking you into the mattress until you came so many times you saw stars (and stripes lol).

Instead, Steve just held you like that for a while. 

This was probably the most intimate moment you had ever shared with Steve. And it made you realize how much you had been longing for this, how much you needed to just…feel him. To let go with him. Not just of control, of everything. Steve owned you. Mind, body and soul. 

The palms of his hands were pressed flat against your back, holding you close against him while your hands played with his hair.

He was still buried deep inside of you, but neither of you moved, just basking in body heat, enjoying each others embrace.

“I’m kinda offended that you feel like you had to tie me up for this.” Steve finally spoke up.

For a split second, you thought you saw hurt flash through his eyes.

“Oh Stevie” you cradled his face, ducking down to press a slow kiss against his lips.

You both moaned into the kiss, suddenly aware of your position, you slowly started moving again.

You both kept each other close as you found a pleasurable pace.

“I’m sorry.” he breathed in between moans.

“W-what for?” You asked hazily.

“For…oh fuck…for making you feel like you…shit…like you couldn’t just…a-ask” he spoke as the pleasure increased with the tempo, his cock hitting your prostate with every move.  

“Oh Steve!” You moaned loudly. Feeling his fingers slide down to stroke your cock.

Your orgasm came over you in waves, drowning everything around you out for a blissful moment as you rode it through, marking Steve's chest with your cum.

The clenching of your asshole and the angelic sounds tumbling over your lips made Steve shudder as he shot his hot load inside of you.

“Oh FUCK, BABY!” He almost crushed your body against his. Grip tightening around you as you felt his warm seed covering the fluttering walls of your asshole.

Steve pressed his lips against yours as you both road out your highs.

Chests heaved against one other. The smell of sex surrounded your sweat and cum covered bodies, but neither of you cared.

When he softly pulled away from the kiss, he leaned his forehead against yours before falling back against the bed, taking you with him.

You stayed on top of him for a second until he finally rolled you over and gently pulled out of you.

“I’ll be right back.” He pressed a chaste kiss against your cheek before disappearing into the bathroom.

His absence only lasted a few minutes, but it gave you time to take off your tie, dropping it on the floor next to the rest of your discarded clothes. 

Steve returned wearing a fresh pair of boxer shorts, carrying a wet washing cloth and a little towel in his hands.  

He only gave you a soft smile. Wordlessly cleaning up the mess between your thighs and on your chest before getting rid of the towel. He gave you one of his clean boxers, fighting off the fresh wave of dirty thoughts that seeing you in his underwear brought on. You quietly put them on, blushing as Steve came to lie down next to you, immediately pulling you close.

“You okay?” You both spoke up at the same time, giggling a little at the slightly awkward moment.

“Yeah, I’m okay.” You said with a smile.

He grinned back at you, “me too.”

A comfortable silence settled in between the two of you. This time you were the one to break it.

“Well…that was…different.”

“Yeah…it was.” Steve replied 

“did you..I mean…was it good different or…or bad different?”

Steve turned to look at you. Studying your face for a moment before leaning in and pressing a sweet kiss against your lips. 

“I don’t ever want anyone else." He said when he pulled back. 

You didn’t know how to reply, so you just looked at him with soft eyes, allowing him to continue.

“I know that this…thing…between us has been… it’s just…I want you to know that it’s more than just blowing off steam or something. And I’m sorry for making you feel like you couldn’t talk to me about…you know…trying to slow it down a little sometimes…”

Trying your best not to burst into tears like a lovesick teenager, you swallowed before speaking again. 

“I know you’ve been through a lot, Steve. I just want you to know that…I’m not going anywhere.”

“Me neither, baby. You couldn’t get rid of me if you tried.” he gave you a goofy smile.

“Now who’s going soft on who, rogers?” You teased.

“Keep talking and that’s not gonna be a problem for much longer, sweetheart,” he said, leaning in to capture your lips once more as you felt his cock already starting to harden against your hip.

[absolutebl]

This Week in BL - Japan is Winning on Kisses & Other Alternate Realities

Organized, in each category, with ones I'm enjoying most at the top.

March 2024 Wk 4

Ongoing Series - Thai

Two Worlds (Thurs IQIYI) ep 3 of 10 - It would be great if we got the alternative romance with dead Kram from Tai’s perspective (JBL style.) Still I like this show. It’s a little bit like I Feel You Linger in the Air only with a love triangle. And while I'm not a fan of triangles as a general rule, I don’t mind it here because the set up is clever. Wayu and  ao are fun sides too. It sure is moving very quickly, which I like. I’m not entirely sure what’s going on. But that’s normal for me with this kind of Thai drama. 

Deep Night (Thurs iQiyi) ep 4 of 8 - They are extremely sappy boyfriends. I love that mom has a secret gf. Could we please have more of them? The love triangle sides are ridiculous, but I do like that it’s all out in the open. I also like they are actually addressing the complicated parental dynamics of owning a sex club. Honestly, I think Khem should have to be a host too. Learn him the right way, girl!

City of Stars (Fri iQIYI) ep 9 of 12 - It’s good, I like the fallout and them actually having to deal with crazy fans and past relationships. They’re so good at communicating it’s kind of a pleasure to watch them suffer through external pressures, because I have faith that they can make it through.

To Be Continued (Thai C3 Thailand grey) ep 6 of 8 - They are such cute puppy dads and so clearly meant to be together, the fact that they aren’t is just frustrating. The fight thing was stupid. And not a whole lot happened... plus singing. I’m getting fatigued with this one. 

1000 Years Old ep 7 of 12 - Did I miss something happening, or did nothing happen? 

Kiseki Chapter 2 (Sun iQIYI) ep 2 of 6 - It’s so boring, there’s so much guitar playing, and it got weirdly voyeuristic (in a very much not sexy way). I’m totally out. DNF

Close Friend Season 3: Soju Bomb! (Weds iQIYI) ep 3 of 6 - I can’t tell if this is trying to be a BL Romancing the Stone, or a BL Hangover, or both. The problem with situational comedy is it must be both situational and comedic, not just option one. The problem with calling something BL, is that it must be BL. This show got 1 of 3 claims correct. 33% is not a passing grade. DNF 

Honestly, it's the HANDS with these two. They do beautiful beautiful things with their hands. If you're one of those hands-obsessed BLabies you should be watching LIBTSTA!

Ongoing Series - Not Thai

Unknown (Taiwan Tues Youku YouTube & Viki) ep 6 of 11 - So the worst finally happened. The mountain of pain has fallen down upon us. And now, hopefully in the second half things get better for our boys. But what a rough ride. Normally, this is not my style of BL, but everyone is doing such a gorgeous job with it, I can’t fault it… except that it hurts. The red thread symbolism was elegantly done. I’d like to hope we get a reunion in the next one, but knowing this style of series they’re gonna draw it out. There's gonna be a more pain first.

Love is Better the Second Time Around AKA Koi wo Suru nara Nidome ga Joto (Japan Weds Gaga) ep 4 of 6 - Those fuck me puppy dog eyes were perfectly executed. I would not have been able to resist either. Gosh they are so damn cute. This is a great show.

Jazz for Two (Korea Gaga/grey) eps 1-2 of 8 - This comes from the Shoulder to Cry On team so I'm scared, but this one is all actors* not idols so maybe they'll be braver. Boy howdy does it have a fantastic opening sequence. Also the lead is fucking adorable. Mr Broody McBroodypants is cute too. Korea sure loves “pretty but broken.” On the JBL end of the spectrum, is everyone in love with their siblings? That’s weird. The dining room scene was painful. All in all, it's good, I'm intrigued. Let's see how you go little show.

I stand absolutely corrected the lead is a member of NEWKIDD (in my defense I'd never heard of them until Build Up last month). I did recognize him from To My Star because at the time I thought he was too pretty to be only a side character.

AntiReset (Taiwan Fri Viki/Gaga) ep 10 fin - Again there was overuse of previous footage and maudlin navel-gazing grief over something we knew was going to happen. So I didn’t really feel much emotional connection to the drama. 7 year time gap.? t was a cute reunion but the moral quandary never really got resolved. I don’t know how to rate this, I’m not sure I will ever watch it again, so that is a big mark against it.

There’s nothing objectively wrong with this BL except how upsetting it is because of the foundational pygmalion story - grown man falls in love with an android who is basically both his slave and, by maturity level, a child. Yet that premise is crystal clear from the get go, so we watch it eyes open. The actors are cute, the romance sweet, the physical chemistry on point (of course, it’s Taiwan) and yet I was left ultimately unsettled by the concept, content, and plot. 7/10 

My Strawberry Film (Japan Thurs Gaga) ep 7 of 8 - I'm so ready for this to be over, and for Gaga to have something good on. Soon please?

It's done, ready to binge, but I suck

What Did You Eat Yesterday Season 2 AKA Kinou Nani Tabeta? Season 2 (Japan Gaga) 10 eps

It's airing but...

Graduation Countdown (Taiwan YouTube) - It's too much to ask me to keep up with 2 minute verticals, I don't have that kind of TikTok endurance training. Waiting to binge.

A Secretly Love (Thai Sat WeTV grey) 10 eps - I watched the first ep but grey is too much work for this inferior of a show. I may pick up and binge if it gets distribution but for now, it gets a DNF from me. KimCop might have held this crap together but Kim without Cop? No thank you.

Lady Boy Friends (Thai WeTV grey) 16 eps - reminds me a bit too much of Diary of Tootsies only high school. Not my thing. DNF unless it turns a corner and is truly amazing.

Tangential to the genre

There has been the occasional discussion on this topic here in this little corner of tumblr so I thought there might be a few intersted in this podcast: AmericanThaiGuy Ron Weaver on the Complicated Issue of Racism in Thailand (The Bangkok Podcast)

Thailand passed its Marriage Equality bill through the lower house. It's expected to pass the high house and get signed by the King, but that hasn't quite happened yet.

And MaxTul dropped a photo shoot.

Next Week Looks Like This:

Starting Soon

3/31 Only Boo! (Thai GMMTV YouTube) 12 eps - New main couple for GMMTV in an idol romance about a boy who dances good and a food stand vendor. Other side of the tracks grumpy/sunshine pair who fall deeply in love but, of course, baby boy idol can't date. Boyband but from GMMTV? Control your singing and I'm game.

3/31 The Next Prince (Thai ????) 12 eps - trailer. ZeeNew in a fantasy/historical set in a palace where Zee plays a knight and Nu a prince - YES PLEASE. (Apparently this is just the pilot, not the start of the actual show, see comments.)

4/1 Love is like a Cat (Korea ????) 12 eps - This completed filming Aug 2022(!) which means there have been serious problems with post-production. This is another of Silkwood's Korean+Thai colab projects. Mew Suppasit plays a rookie film star, called the Cat Prince (for his cold arrogance) who goes up against a charismatic puppyish animal daycare director (JM of JUST B). There is a side romance (love triangle?) with a veterinarian. Geonu of JUST B is also in the cast. Dual languages.

Hum, trash-watch-a-licious?

4/3 We Are (Thai GMMTV YouTube iQIYI) 12 eps - University ensemble BL featuring PondPhuwin, WinnySatang, AouBoom, MarcPawinPoon - basically the good kind of messy gay friendship group (so more My Engineer and less Only Friends). Looks a bit like the Kiss series but everyone is queer. I'm IN!

4/11 Living With Him AKA Kare no Iru Seikatsu (Japan ????) 10 eps - Kindly Ryota goes off to uni only to find his new roommate is his childhood bestie, Kazuhito. Kazuhito doesn’t have a girlfriend and Ryota tries to help him figure out why, they fall in love along the way. Same director as Old Fashion Cupcake.

4/11 Gray Shelter AKA Gray Currents (Korea ????) 4 eps - SooHyuk is only just surviving and reunites with YoonDae, an old friend. They end up living together. One of the leads is played by Choco of Choco Milk Shake.

4/18 At 25:00, in Alaska AKA 25 Ji, Akasaka de (Japan Gaga - may not be global) 10 eps - Yuki lands his first starring role in a BL drama alongside superstar Asami (previously his senior at uni). Said superstar suggests they form a sham relationship until filming concludes. As they actually begin to fall in love, the spotlight begins to burn.

Seriously? You're killing me with these titles, boys.

4/26 My Stand-In (Thai iQIYI) 12 eps - adaptation of Chinese novel "Professional Body Double" by Shui Qiang Cheng. Stars Up (Lovely Writer) and Poom (Bake Me Please) directed by the same team as KP (not a recommendation IMHO - my biggest criticism of that show was the clashing directing styles). This one looks well complicated, lemme try: Joe is a stuntman for famous actor Tong. Joe falls in love with Ming but Ming sees Joe as nothing more than a Tong-replacement. After learning this horrible truth, Joe dies. Joe then wakes up in the body of another man also named Joe. He manages to rebuild the same life as before—with the same people eventually re-meeting Ming. Ming wants Joe back but Joe doesn't understand why. But Ming seems to know what's going on and wants to give him some kind of explanation.

I'm exhausted just trying to describe the plot.

Knock-Knock Boys (Thai WeTV) - 4 college friends conspire to help their friend lose his virginity. Familiar faces like Seng (yes, Billy's previous partner) and Best, news here.

Upcoming BLs for 2024 are listed here. This list is not kept updated, so please leave a comment if you know something new or RP with additions.

NOTE: It looks like one of my personal favorites of last year Unintentional Love Story is getting a spin off!

THIS WEEK’S BEST MOMENT

Just these two, in my head, rent free. Thanks Japan!

(Last week)

Streaming services are listed by how I (usually) watch, which is with a USA based IP, and often offset by a day because time zones are too much work.

The tag BLigade: @doorajar @solitaryandwandering @my-rose-tinted-glasses @babymbbatinygirl @babymbbatinygirl @isisanna-blog @mmastertheone @pickletrip @aliceisathome @urikawa-miyuki @tokillamonger @rocketturtle4

If ya wanna be tagged each week leave a comment and I will add you to the template. Easy peesy. (With so many tags when does a weekly tumblr post become a newsletter? That is this week's philosophical question...)

[cephalopod-celabrator]

Hey! Are you a Harry Potter fan feeling disappointed and betrayed? Do you want a piece of well-written fantasy media that doesn't have a transphobic author? Then boy howdy have I got reccomendations for you 1) Discworld. Old fantasy series by Terry Pratchett, who co-wrote Good Omens. It's very funny but also really well written. It started as just a parody of Conan The Barbarian-style sword and sorcery fantasy but it has some genuinely fascinating worldbuilding and every book is a mix of silliness, fascinating fantasy ideas horrifying concepts, insights into the very core of what it means to be human, and really dumb puns. The representation is remarkably good considering they were written decades ago by an old cishet white british man. It has canonically trans characters, although they don't use those labels, and the author is dead so he can't disappoint you by suddenly revealing he's a far-right dipshit. 2) The Eruvia books. A pair of trilogies written by Melissa Caruso about a fantasy world much of which is modeled after rennaissance Italy, particularly Venice. There is a scene which contains three canonically gay mages each individually capable of destroying armies need I say more. Some truly amazing magic systems and plot twists and worldbuilding. The Swords and Fire series takes place first chronologically and is a better introduction to the magic system, but I prefer the Rooks and Ruin trilogy although both are amazing. Contains a multitude of queer identities, including one canonically trans character, three characters with they/them pronouns, and several characters that don't fit in a gender binary. 3) The Aurora webcomic. If any of you know of the Overly Sarcastic Productions youtube series, this comic is written and drawn by Red. Very pretty art, phenomonal characters, coolass magic system. Also if you're tired of stories always focusing on romance read this because like to this day there's only like the implied beginning of one romance arc in the entire thing. It isn't finished yet though. It's got dragons, gods, primordial elemental entities, and lil guys who need therapy. Also has a canonically trans male character. And it's a webcomic, so it's absolutely free! Just enter "aurora webcomic" into a browser and you can find it. All of these are, in my opinion, better written than Harry Potter but most certainly contain better queer representation and have authors with less expressed transphobia.

[papurgaatika]

In The Darkness There’s So Much I Wanna Do

Kinktober Prompt 2: Somnophilia

Pairing: Frankie Morales x F!reader

minors DNI with my work please!!

A/N: Howdy howdy my babies! This is dedicated to my beautiful beautiful stunning @phoeberidgers whose birthday it is (and if you can find the fun birthday reference in here I'll give you a sticker) seeing as she is Frankie lover number one, this is literally just for her. Thank you to the absolute loml @carlynkurin for beta’ing this (and all my other fics) for me. I hope the rest of you hornballs enjoy this. peace and love on the planet earth from me xoxo

Tags: somno, praise, oral (f! receiving), pussy eating king frankie morales everyone, established relationships, pre discussed kinks, loverboy frankie

word count: 2.1k

Summary: The days are long, and the nights are longer for Frankie. His hours at work have been killing him, and keeping him from you more than he wants to admit, but seeing you so peaceful at night is keeping him going

Frankie was an attentive lover, if there was ever an example of one. Bringing you flowers and chocolate when he knew your week was long, ordering you take out when he wasn't over to cook with you, sending you videos of celebrities you pine over. The perfect man wrapped up with a bow for you. Unfortunately, your perfect man came with long hours, bags under his beautiful baby brown eyes, and a thousand apologies that you’d constantly tell him not to make. 

You knew his work was important, your hard working boy, but it didn't mean it didn't make you a little upset. It wasn't uncommon for you to go to sleep before he even makes it home, curling into his pillow relishing in the smell of him, firewood and the slightly drizzly trail where you both go on frequent Sunday picnics. He hated leaving you at home alone, it made him feel like he was suffocating without you. He swears that if he could quit his job right now and spend every second of the day touching you, he would do it in a heartbeat. He doesn’t even need more than a touch, the simple feeling of his hand on yours, or your sides pressed together while you huddle for warmth is enough to keep him going forever. 

Frankie groans when he enters the house, his bones creaking as he stretches his limbs out on the couch and takes off his boots. He silently chides himself when he sees the lack of light in your bedroom and cringes when he sees the time 10:13. He swore that he would try to be earlier today, that he missed having dinner with you, missed being able to see you for more than an hour while you both get ready for the day in the morning. You had reassured that you understood and that it didn't bother you, but he knew it wasn't your favorite thing in the world. He wasn't blind, he could see the look on your face when he’d remind you he was working late again, saw your side table peeking open, your vibrator freshly washed because he hadn’t been able to touch you in days. 

It was killing him with how pent-up he was. He would catch himself getting hard at work at the most innocuous things. You had sent him a photo of you holding up a piece he needed to see and the sight of your hands had all the blood rushing to his cock, memories of your fingers spreading yourself open for him flooding his mind. "You had sent him a voice note in which your dog jumped on you, a fit of giggles bubbling out of you, and all he was thinking about was every single time he had drawn a gasp, moan, and shaky little sigh from between your lips. All in all, Frankie was needy. Needier than he had been in a long time. He doesn't even remember being this pent up while he was deployed, it had been easy then, to simply jerk himself off in a few minutes to some old magazines he had managed to keep. But now.. Now there was you. And no magazine was going to compare to you. Your hips, your eyes, your tummy, everything about you made him feel like he was going to explode. 

He slips into the bedroom and his gaze falls to the light of the moon filtering over your sleeping body. Fuck if you weren't perfect. He slips over to where you lay in bed and feels his heart (and dick) swell a little bit. He stares at you for a moment, watching the gentle rise and fall of your chest with every breath you take, just reveling in how effortless it was for you to look this good. He knows he should shower, knows that he should change and eat the leftovers you left in the microwave for him like you always do, but he can’t help himself. He slips off his jeans not even bothering with his shirt, and slips onto the bed, his  forearms holding him up. He takes a moment to admire you, committing every curve and dip of your face to memory before he peppers faint kisses over you. He stills every so often, making sure you weren’t being disturbed, but he isn't a patient man often. 

You smell so fucking good, he wants to bottle it up and keep it with him for a hard day, You’re the only thing that can get him off anymore. He nips gently at your neck, grinning when he sees a soft red mark blooming on your skin. He slips the blanket off of your form, not that it was covering you completely anyway, and feels his eyes roll back into his head at the sight of you wearing one of his shirts. The fabric of the shirt had bunched up over your hip, the curve of your ass practically begging him to do something, to do anything. He traces an experimental line over the soft skin of your leg, watching as the goosebumps trail after his finger. His eyes moved up to make sure he wasn't disturbing you, and when he saw your face still at peace he continued. 

He moves back to your ankle, his head dipping down to press a kiss to it. If he could, he would kiss every single inch of you. Every part that he loves more than life itself. His hand wraps around your calf as his lips trace up the skin, the hair of his beard scratching you softly. As he makes his way to your thighs, he can't help but leave a few bites on them as he spreads your legs slowly. He doesn't move for a moment, his eyes locked on the plush of your pussy through your panties. he just stays there for a while, the soft fabric pulled against you looked sinful to him in the moment. 

The way the moon glows on your skin is like a guiding light for him, basking you in a silvery glow. Frankie swears his heart stops when you shift, your body spreading for him. Even subconsciously, you know that it was his touch, that you wanted him. He brings his nose to the waistband of your panties, nudging the elastic slightly before ducking his head down to smell you. The fact that you made him feel like a teenage boy again would be almost embarrassing if he wasn’t truly obsessed with you. With the way that just the smell of you made him dizzy, made his hips grind into the mattress subconsciously. His eyes press close when he presses an open mouthed kiss to your clothed cunt, the taste of your arousal making him groan into your skin. 

You had cum tonight, he knew the taste of you like the back of his hand, and he twinged in annoyance with himself that he wasn't home to watch you fall apart. The open side table, your toy sitting neatly inside of it, the taste of you, it all goads him on to go further;to prove that he was better than them. He narrows his eyes and focuses back on you. He would never blame you for taking care of yourself, he simply wishes that it could have been him. His plush lips press against you again, his tongue darting out to lick a stripe over the growing damp spot on your panties and grins to himself when he feels your legs twitch slightly at the contact. Frankie wants to stay here until he dies. bathed in moonlight, his head between your soft thighs, and your pussy practically dripping from his barely there touches. 

He can’t help himself, he knows that he should probably wake you up and tell you that he’s home, apologize for how long he was gone, but he was trapped where he was. He pulls the thin fabric of your panties to the side, a soft whimper leaving his lips when he sees how wet you were for him. “Pretty fucking thing….” He presses his mouth onto you soft and gentle, knowing you were probably still sensitive, and traces his tongue over the sides slowly.  Your taste was intoxicating, addicting. You were the pomegranate seeds, sweet and ripe on his tongue, that had him returning over and over again. 

He can feel your body stirring against him, your breathing becoming a little more shallow as he continues his ministrations against you. His head ducks down again and he holds your thighs in his big hands as his tongue flicks against you, lewd noises coming from his mouth as he moans into you. The curve of his nose pressing against your clit as he practically worships you, his jaw working like a man starved. Despite your slumbering state you could feel the haze of pleasure bubbling in your stomach, your body rocking slightly as he drew your orgasm closer and closer. He could tell you were close, he could always tell with you, he craved it. His hands move away from your thighs and spread your pussy open, his tongue lapping at you like he was begging you to fall apart. 

You wake up feeling incredibly good, your body was tingly and your ears were ringing, eyes barely fluttering open. You could hear him still working at your drooling pussy, your hand moving sluggishly to push his head away “Frankie?” you croak out, voice hoarse with sleep. 

“jus’ looking at you baby” he hums, blowing a soft breath of cold air against you, making your hips jolt up “so fuckin’ pretty” he murmurs pressing another kiss to your aching cunt “couldnt help myself.” 

In hindsight you should have known better than to try and move his head, it was a futile attempt that had no real chances of working. One of his hands moves to grab yours, bringing it down to his lips and giving your fingers a quick peck, before lacing them with his and holding it against the side of your hip. The sight of his eyes looking up at you through his lashes while he draws circles around your swollen clit with practiced precision should be preserved in a gallery. The way his pupils dilate with every taste, how he barely takes time to breathe, his hair sticking to the sweat on his forehead, he was a damn work of art. Your legs shake as his lips wrap around your clit, sending you tumbling over the edge of your orgasm, feeling his broad shoulders keep your legs from clamping around him. Frankie’s lips don't stop until he’s taken every single bit of your pleasure from you, every single moan, whine, and quiver of your body spurring him on. 

“Mine.” He practically purrs against your skin, collecting the last of your arousal on his tongue before pressing a kiss to the inside of your thigh “All mine.”

You aren’t sure if your brain has caught up with the pleasure you were just subjected to, not that there was a single complaint from you. “Hi,” your voice is still slightly raspy, both with sleep and pleasure, when you manage to form a coherent sentence “when’d you get home?” You mumble, hand raking through his soft curls.

“Mmm, ‘bout 45 minutes ago” he hums, glancing at the clock on the side table which now reads 11:09 while his cheek rests on your stomach, planting the occasional kiss on the soft skin. “missed you today baby.” You feel your heart melting at his words. No matter how often he says it, which is very often, you always feel special just knowing that you were on his mind 

“I missed you more” you grin at him, knowing how much he hates when you try to one-up him. You hear a grumble come out of his mouth and feel him nip at your hip bone, making you squeak slightly 

“Never, baby.” he whispers, tongue soothing over the bite he just left on you. “Not a damn chance in the world of that.”

 You were honestly too tired to argue with him at this point, simply letting out a non committal hum and closing your eyes. They peek open after a moment when he lets out a quiet moan against your skin “baby..?” you ask softly, eyelids heavy.  

He grunts, his hips rutting against the soft sheets, his cock aching after getting to taste you “go back to sleep baby..” he groans “gonna stay right here,” he kisses the crease of your thigh “just wanna taste you again.” You barely have time to register his words before his lips find your cunt again, his moans vibrating against your sensitive skin as you let your eyes close again. It was about to be a long night.

[ladyyatexel]

Hey, what's up, hello, I'm Xel, I truly have Donald Duck levels of bad luck and yet I do not have the rage button that makes things work out if I throw a tantrum, which feels like yet another failure of media, what is the deal with this.

The deal is:

Temp job had to let me go instead of make me permanent because the economy scared the 5 people over 65 in that department out of feeling safe enough to retire

None of my applications are getting interviews and I don't know what I'm doing wrong. Donald Duck tantrum did not assist me in this realm.

Holy shit seasonal depression I can't get out of bed like.... A Lot.

I have a convention to go to in February where I am selling art in the art show and where I will see many of my friends the only time per year.

I'm scared of everything haha wow 😬

I'm am an artist who just feels too upset and worried to art

I'm having trouble getting everything together and maybe will feel better with some level of stability? I need to do a lot of paperwork. It is proving hard. I have the Tumblr popular suspicions about my level of neurodivergance. (Fun story: I told members of my my family that I have thought in the last two years especially that I might have ADHD or Autism or something, and my cousin said, "Oh, honey *just the last two years?*" Obliterated.)

My abusive dad recently joined a cult and my grandmother thinks he'll try to contact me after 15 years and I'm fucking scared of him and that is Affecting Me in A Way boy howdy.

I do not have the money to pay rent even a little bit! I'm trying to get January and February taken care of maybe? So I can try to exist for this period of time and maybe not have a breakdown or get evicted or something?

Some real not awesome medical junk happening also because why not.

SO, I'm doing Tumblr's favorite thing and being a starving queer artist with brain worms who needs help. If you are interested in helping me out and making a donation to the "Why don't my Donald Duck tantrums solve my problems" fund, I would be Really Grateful.

I am on Ko-Fi, which is really just a funnel to PayPal, over here.

$2500 would keep me on solid ground. I'll try to keep a tally here in a read more along with a expenses tally if that would help you feel better about me! I know I've had to ask frequently in the last few months, so I understand thinking I'm full of it.

I have a commission to finish currently and a few buttons and things that need to be mailed. You could also ask for button and commission, but I am doing prep work for my part of the art show in mid February, so I'm not available until after then for that!

My grandfather used to do a Donald Duck impression that was really good and it convinced me that either he WAS Donald Duck or that old people all knew how to do this because they all talked like this in the era Donald Duck was from.

Here is Ko-Fi again. If there's something you'd like to see me post or unearth in atonement, let me know. If you'd like other places to aim your dead green American presidents, I can give you that too.

Thanks for reading and/or reblogging! Tell me how Donald Duck's freakouts impacted you. Take care of yourselves!

Rent is $710/month, so 1420 is January and February.

65 for the internet, 130

65 for car insurance, 130

65 for electric unless I can get the assistance plan up again, same 130

250 to survive at the con maybe?

Also just like food until i can get the foodstamps stuff sorted??

Gas???

Anyway, that's an idea of what and why, if that is helpful.

Jan 8:

We are at $460!

Thanks!