#i can't help but feel the whole shape of my body will essentially change

[bassiter2]

my mental/existential dysphoria is so abstract and gnarled that, as i've become less vain and obsessed with my own appearance in the past year, and basically phased that out of being part of my whole brand, i've genuinely felt like a more real person. i still put effort into my appearance/outfits and have a sense of superiority about it, but leaving behind the habit of taking selfies all the time genuinely feels so right. not bc it's inherently bad or anything, but just bc i think that particular brand of self-obsession is a less Real trait. i think that even having the capacity to sometimes feel insecure about my appearance makes me more real. i'm even starting to kind of like the idea of getting a little ugly as i get old. bc then when someone finds me really beautiful even when i don't look like a model anymore, it'll actually feel special instead of like "of course you do, duh." and bc i'm not like fully consciously expecting everyone i interact with to think i'm gorgeous, now, when someone expresses something along those lines i actually feel complimented instead of just vaguely reinforced. i literally fantasize about being a 40something who says and fully believes "yeah haha i used to be a hot young thing" and then has someone tell me that i'm still hot. i want that so much more than i want to be conventionally hot anymore.

[joelscruff]

feelings on fire (joel miller x f!reader) 18+ PART 8.5 (JOEL'S POV)

previous chapters | so after the last chapter there were SO many people who really wanted to understand joel's actions, and i thought instead of him simply explaining to reader what happened, why don't i just write a chapter entirely from his point of view instead? hopefully this answers some questions, enjoy! and here's my kofi if you'd like to leave a tip 💕 chapter summary: you're not the only one who has a busy weekend ahead of them. one text changes the trajectory of joel's relationship with you - for better or worse. (this is essentially chapter seven and eight from joel's pov) rating: 18+ explicit warnings for this chapter: age difference (joel is in his 50s, reader is in her early 20s), innocent/inexperienced reader, discussions of child abandonment, mental health & cheating, alcohol, allusions to past sexual encounters between joel and his ex, brief flashbacks to smut from previous chapters word count: 13k ao3

He thinks about you so much more often than he should.

Your soft skin, your smile, your eyes, your hair, your little giggles, your shy and breathless whimpers.... your body, pliant and sweet beneath his touch, open and willing and waiting.

You're so perfect. You're so young.

He's never been with someone so much younger than him before. He's not sure you realize that. But that day on his doorstep when you'd wandered down the sidewalk looking like a bit of a lost puppy, that little frown line prominent between your eyebrows that he's come to adore, something clicked. You brought out a side of him he'd long since buried; he knew he had to have you. He just knew. Could feel it in the pit of his stomach when those gorgeous eyes had come to rest on him. Wide and innocent and sad. Something he saw there that made him pause.

He'd have had you that day if you'd let him, a fact that he's still grappling with. Long gone are the days where he'd meet a woman and take her home within a twenty four hour span - long gone are the days where he's so much as been interested in a woman he didn't know well enough, someone safe and secure and familiar. But he hoped you'd be back, almost knew you would, could see it in the way you shivered under his gaze, the way your eyes lingered on his face, on his fingers. He hadn't felt like being charming in a long time; he'd genuinely surprised himself with the flirtatious comments, the sly smiles, double meanings. But he couldn't help himself.

He'd wanted you so bad. The moment you'd disappeared down the street he'd gotten in the shower and fucked his fist for only a few minutes before coming all over the tiled wall at the very thought of you. He didn't even know your name but had already memorized the curves of your body, the shape of your lips, the smell of your skin when he'd gotten close enough. He'd practically limped back to his bedroom and collapsed on the bed in a heap, staring up at the ceiling with nothing but shock and confusion. Where the fuck had that come from?

He's such a dirty old man.

Old being the operative word. He turns fifty seven in a few months and the thought makes him feel physically ill. It's not that he necessarily hates the thought of getting older, of being one step closer to knocking on death's door, but more-so the fact that he's almost fifty seven and has almost nothing to show for it. His life is a mess, has been a mess for as long as he can remember.

But now... you.

You... full of life and eagerness and kindness. A soft and gentle angel in his bed, on his couch, in his kitchen. So shy and quiet, telling him what you think about, what you worry about. Letting him whisper the filthiest things in your ear while you whimper and moan, letting him touch you the way you deserve to be touched, the way you've never been touched before.

You bring something out in him he can't explain. He'd invited you inside that first day looking for a quick fuck and he admits it was a moment of weakness, the whole thing. He knows Sarah and Mish would kill him for even considering treating you that way, like an object, something to be conquered. The past version of himself who briefly felt that way about you makes him angry now.

Because now he really wants you. Not just a fuck - he wants you. He thinks about you all the fucking time and it scares the shit out of him. What started as something dirty and frivolous quickly turned into something tender and sweet the moment you told him you were a virgin, and he doesn't know how to handle it. You're so fucking lovely but so fucking sad and unsure, full of apprehension, regrets, insecurities, things he sees in himself. You remind him so much of himself at that age and he just wants to take care of you, be the person for you that he didn't have.

But you're so fucking young.

He tries to push the feelings down. He's purposely distant to you, especially during the week. You send him sweet little messages, tell him about your day, ask him about his. He stares at them for so long without answering them, and when he does answer his replies are short and vague. Because how can he say what he really wants to say? I think about you so much, angel. I want you to be mine. I don't want you to chase after any college boys or have any college boys chasin' after you. I wanna be your first and I wanna be your only.

How can he put you in that position? You're having fun, you're learning things, but there's absolutely no way you see any sort of future with him. The fact that he can already see one with you is the biggest red flag in itself - what the fuck is wrong with him?

But you're just so fucking sweet. So lovely. So gorgeous. He wants you in his bed and he wants you to stay there. He knows he'll be the first person to ever fuck you and that thought is enough to keep him going, yet he can't help but want more. But it's so selfish - you're young and bright-eyed and pretty and perfect, the promise of an incredible future ahead of you. And he's just... him.

He's old. He's grumpy. He's washed up. Became a father in high school. Got married. Got divorced. Has had more failed relationships than successful ones. Has been working the same job since he was twenty years old, a job he fucking hates. Loathes it with his entire being. Still doing the same work for the majority of his life with almost no breaks, no stops. He knows he should retire, should have done it years ago, but he's afraid.

He's always been fucking terrified of change. Earlier this year he'd moved into a new neighborhood. He'd gotten sick of the house he'd once shared with Mish, then Mish and Sarah, then just Sarah - the one she'd lived in sporadically 'til she was twenty six and finally felt financially stable enough to go out on her own. He'd stayed there about ten more years out of convenience, had another failed relationship with a woman who deserved far better than what he could give her, then finally pulled the plug and got something new for himself a few hours away, hoping it'd change his perspective. He'd picked a place with privacy, good acoustics, thought maybe he'd play his guitar more - focus on his music and slowly phase himself out of the contracting business.

But months later, he's still working it. The thought of being unemployed after working this hard his entire life, just ending up sad and alone in this new house, still not even properly furnished or decorated, makes him want to throw up. What the fuck would he do with all that free time? He's always wondered exactly how he'd spend it, how life could be enjoyable without the structure of his livelihood, but then he shakes it off and just keeps going because he knows the alternative has to be worse. But now... you.

You - who if you truly knew what a fucking failure he is, the boring bag of bones he pretends he's not when he's with you - would leave his bed and never come back.

You - who if you found out about his ex wife, his daughter, both of whom live adventurous and exciting lives while he's done nothing but stay still in the comforts of familiarity - would probably find him beyond pathetic.

You - who can do so much better.

He just knows that it can't last.

--

He gets the text from Sarah on Wednesday morning:

Hey Dad!! Me and Mom are doing our annual road trip, thought we'd stop down there for a bit and have a look at your new house!!

He tries not to notice the excitement of seeing his daughter being slightly dulled by the promise of being accompanied by her mother. In a way it makes him sad, because he loves Mish, has loved her since he was seventeen years old. He cares deeply about her and has always wanted nothing but the best for her, has always enjoyed her visits in the past - for more than one reason. But now...

No. He has to shake the thought away before he freaks himself out.

Kiddo!!!! That's exciting, when were you thinkin?

We'll be there by Friday afternoon!! Sorry for the short notice but we weren't sure if it'd be possible til today. We're actually trying to stick to a schedule this time believe it or not.

That's ok, you know it doesn't matter to me. Wanna see you any time. Miss you a lot.

Aw Dad I miss you too, I can't wait to see you!!! We'll text when we're getting close. Gonna check into a motel that night and we'll be leaving again the next morning, gotta stay on track.

He almost offers his guest room. Almost. But then thinks better of it.

Sounds good kiddo, see you then :)

Mish texts him later that afternoon. He'd been expecting it, knew she would want to double check that the visit was alright, but her name popping up in his notifications sends a jab of anxiety to the pit of his stomach. It's one thing for Sarah to visit on her own, but both of them together always adds a... different layer to the situation. A layer that needs addressing. A layer that he'd usually have more than a little excitement for, some anticipation - but not this time.

Sarah's got me roadtrippin again

She loves to make you suffer.

Don't I know it

He can't help but chuckle to himself, but his smile fades quickly as soon as the next message comes in:

Gonna be stopping by on Friday. You good for our usual?

He stalls.

Thought you were still with Elvis.

ALVIN. And no that's over

Sorry about that.

Like hell you are

He purposely doesn't answer her question, and she doesn't send anything else. The anxiety doesn't go away though - it spreads throughout his body until he's an absolute mess, shaky hands and ringing ears at the job site as he tries to stay focused, but ultimately fails to. His crew flits here and there around him without much direction and they end up going overtime, leading to an angry call from the boss, a call that leaves his hands clenched into fists by the time he gets to the bar with the crew. Fuck. This. Job.

He drinks too much, tries to calm himself, keep his thoughts steady. He pretends he doesn't know why he's feeling like this, pushes down all the reasons he wishes Sarah was traveling by herself this time. But deep down, he knows.

He gets a ride home with one of his buddies, limbs aching in a way that they haven't for a while. He always has days like this, days where the physical labor catches up to his aging body and reminds him that he really shouldn't be doing this job anymore, but somehow it's worse this time; the mental load from Mish's texts are giving him a discomfort he can't really describe.

He remembers only as he crosses the threshold that he promised he'd call you. Shit.

He does, but he can't remember much of what he said the next morning, only that he vented a bit. He hopes with every bone in his body that he didn't mention Mish, that his complaints focused solely on work.

Your texts that afternoon from the church bathroom prove this to be the case, and he breathes a sigh of relief when you agree to come see him that night. He knows he'll feel calm in your company, that the anxiety will ebb away in your presence.

He tries not to think about the implications of that.

God, he's fucked.

--

You had a horrible day.

You show up on his doorstep with tears shining in your eyes and that soft little line furrowed deep between your brows, the line he adores, wants to smooth with his thumb. He pulls you in close and breathes you in and finds that the anxiety, the worry, the uncertainty, all of it disappears in your embrace. You tell him you don't want to do anything, just want to be with him.

You have no idea how much it means to hear you say that to him.

He lays you in his bed and holds you for a while, listens as you tell him about what happened, confide in him. You tell him more about your upbringing and your family, your school years and friends, the pressure and scrutiny you've felt suffocated by your whole life. And god if you're not describing him. You have no idea how fucking similar the two of you are, how much he wants to wrap you up and protect you from the world and from all the people who threaten to dull the light in your eyes. Don't become like me, he wants to whisper, you deserve so much better.

He could listen to you talk for hours. That soft voice lulls him into a state of nirvana he's never experienced, body practically going numb with how in tune it is with your words, like he's become some kind of plant absorbing all your emotions, thoughts, feelings, as you bare yourself to him. You're so lovely. Please never stop talking.

It all culminates in the removal of your crucifix. He barely even thinks about it, just knows exactly what he has to do to calm you, to make you feel better, to steal back some of those worries from you and lock them away for a little bit where they can't hurt you. It's the least he can do. He wants to do it.

It's a gesture he doesn't fully realize the importance of, the magnitude - not yet, anyway.

He backtracks while you shower. It's just sex. This is not going any further than you showing her how it's done, preparing her for the real world, for the future men who actually stand a chance with her. The thought makes him dig his nails deep into his duvet as he settles under the sheets and takes a deep breath. She's not yours. She doesn't want you the way she thinks she does. She doesn't know the real you.

He can't help but picture you in his shower, standing naked under the hot water, in the exact spot he's gotten himself off to your very image. His dick twitches in his pajama pants and he has to adjust himself, cursing softly at his dirty thoughts and reminding himself that nothing is happening tonight, that you don't want to. He's not even disappointed, doesn't care that the sexting from earlier isn't coming to fruition tonight; just laying with you is enough for him. And he hates himself because he knows exactly what that means.

His phone vibrates while he's waiting and he picks it up from the nightstand - a text from Sarah:

Gettin closer! We should be there tomorrow, probably late afternoon. Do you work Fridays?

Yep, he wants to say, Monday to Friday, every week of my entire life since before you were born, but of course he doesn't. Would never.

I do but I'll be back around 5:30 or so. I'll give you a call when I'm home.

Sounds good!!!

Also:

An image comes in and he taps it, squinting his eyes to figure out exactly what he's looking at. He can make out Sarah and Mish sitting atop some statue of a bull they must have encountered outside a gas station. Sarah's arm is thrown back as she poses with her signature killer smile, while Mish grips the bullhorns and sticks her tongue out, braids peeking out from under a cowboy hat. There's something about it that's familiar, something he can't quite place as his eyes strain without the aid of his glasses - the ones he never wears. He pushes his phone away from his eyes, brings it back and hopes to bring the image into focus a little bit.

Oh. It's his hat.

And fuck, if he doesn't know how that makes him feel.

"You need glasses," he hears you say softly, and he looks up from the image of his daughter and ex wife to see you standing at the edge of the bed, clad in nothing but a towel.

He locks his phone and hopes you weren't standing there too long.

--

He doesn't know how to tell you that he won't be able to see you tonight.

He spends the morning in complete and utter bliss, waking up to your bashful request to give him a blowjob. You're so fucking sweet, even when asking for something so filthy. Your mouth is soft and warm around his cock and he feels like he's died and gone to heaven, wants desperately to spill inside and watch you swallow but knows it's not the right time, not yet.

He wonders what your face would look like covered in his come.

Dirty. Old. Man.

You burn his breakfast and furiously apologize, cursing under your breath as you soak the freshly burnt pan under the faucet and frown at your failure. But he doesn't view it as a failure; for him it's just another thing to add to the mental list of reasons he thinks you're adorable.

You ride his thigh. He makes you come, the most beautiful little sounds escaping your lips as you ride it out. He loves how that little worry line between your brows always returns when he's making you feel good, like he really is taking some of that worry away and replacing it with pleasure. He only wants to see that line when he's making you come. He never wants to see you sad again like you'd been last night, just wants to hold you in his arms and protect you from the world.

But then it's time to go and he still hasn't told you about tonight. He does not want to lie to you. He refuses to. But what else can he say? Just that he'll be out late? What if you ask him why? And god, it's not like he's gonna do anything. He's not gonna entertain Mish's offer, not this time. He shouldn't. He won't.

You save him the trouble. Your friend from college is visiting, a girl named Tasha - she's taking you out for the first time ever. He supposes that makes things much easier; no explaining or giving excuses, no revealing things he's not ready to reveal. He dodged a bullet.

Right?

So why does he still feel like such a prick?

--

He gets home from work and calls Sarah, just like he said he would. He only has a short window of time to do a bit of sprucing - fluff the couch pillows a bit, do a quick wipe down of the bathroom - before the doorbell is ringing and he's jogging to the door with excitement coursing through his veins. The anxiety has dulled at the mere promise of seeing his daughter on the other side of that door.

"DAD!" she squeals excitedly as he thrusts it open, and he's immediately enveloped in the warmth of Sarah's embrace, sweet and familiar.

"Kiddo," he breathes into her hair, feeling tears prick in his eyes like they always do, "Missed ya."

"Missed you too," she says into his shoulder, muffled and quiet, "So much, Dad, you have no idea."

They have their moment together, eyes closed as they sway on the spot and smile tearfully - it's been almost a year since her last visit. It didn't used to feel as palpable, those long periods of time between seeing each other, but as he's gotten older he finds that he misses her a lot; his little pal, not so little anymore. Thirty eight now, a full blown woman with a loving husband and a freshly solid career as an author, the life he always wanted for her.

"How're things?" he asks softly, "You doin' okay? Need any money?"

She laughs, "Things are good. I'm good, I promise."

"How's Jude, he good?"

"He's great, and the book's been doin' really well."

"I'm so happy to hear that, kiddo, really. Happy for both of you."

"Thanks, Dad," she murmurs, sniffling a little bit, "Couldn't have done it without you, hope you know that."

And then she's pulling away, wiping the tears from her eyes and waving to the purple convertible behind her, gesturing for Mish to get out of the car.

Here we go.

She steps out and god, she's gorgeous. Age has done nothing but enhance her beauty. She's never not been the most stunning woman in a room, soft skin a glowing deep umber, supple long legs and playful smile and those dark brown - almost black - eyes that practically sparkle when she looks at him. Like the way she's looking at him now... fuck.

"Hey," she says with a sly grin, shutting the car door behind her and making her way up the front steps.

"Hey," he echoes back, "How was the drive?"

"Long," she groans, reaching him and going in for a hug. It's nowhere near as long or as intimate as Sarah's, but the feeling of her body against his feels just as familiar and comforting. It's so easy to fall back into their rhythm. Too easy. "You been good?" she asks as they part.

He nods quickly, "Yeah, you?"

"Can't complain," she replies with a smile.

"Oh please," Sarah scoffs beside her, "All you've done is complain," she looks to Joel with a grimace, "Alvin's out of the picture."

"Sarah," Mish admonishes quickly, brows narrowing.

"Yeah, I heard somethin' about that," he says, scratching the back of his head awkwardly, "Uh - that's too bad, Mish. He was, um... he was a good guy."

"No, he wasn't," she sighs, rolling her eyes and giving Sarah another look, "But that's a conversation for another time, right?"

Sarah puts her hands up in defense, "Sorry, sorry, my bad. We've been in the car too fuckin' long," she peeks past him with a curious expression on her face, "Can we come in? I wanna see your new house."

He shows them around, though there's not much to see, something which Mish points out almost immediately.

"Where's the character?" she asks, raising an eyebrow as she assesses the living room, "Like where's your stuff, Joel?"

"There's not even pictures of us anywhere," Sarah adds with a frown, scanning one of the bookshelves, "It's like we don't even exist."

He grimaces, hands on his hips, "I know, I'm sorry. I still have a few boxes up in the guest room but," he sighs, "You know me, I hate gettin' emotional over shit from the past. And half those boxes got your old school stuff, and-"

"Your Dad's a sentimental guy," Mish interjects with a soft smile, giving him those eyes again, "It's okay, we'll unpack 'em for you."

He scoffs, "We ain't got time for that, Mish."

"I always have time to be sentimental," her smile grows wider and she throws him a wink - his heart stutters.

"Well I always have time for a movie marathon," Sarah suddenly says, turning from the shelves with an array of DVDs in her hands, "Whaddaya say, Dad? Curtis and Viper? After the bar?"

He cocks an eyebrow, "The bar?"

"Oh? Didn't you hear? We're takin' you out, cowboy," Mish says with a smirk, "Or - I guess you're takin' us out. Whatever, either way we're goin' for dinner and drinks like the well adjusted wholesome family we are."

"And then we're gonna eat too much junk food and pass out on the couch like the good old days," Sarah adds, tossing the DVDs onto the coffee table, "Miller family fun."

"And do I get any say in this?"

They both turn to him at the same time with almost the same expression on their faces, and he knows he's already lost.

He wouldn't have it any other way.

--

They have dinner at their favorite chain, practically inhale their burgers and fries as Sarah and Mish catch Joel up on the trip so far, where they've been, what they've seen. He's grateful that the conversation is still on them by the time they get the check and start heading to the bar; he really doesn't want to answer any questions about himself tonight unless he has to.

The bar is louder than usual, much more packed than he's ever seen it. He grumbles this to Sarah and Mish but they just roll their eyes and order their drinks, cozying up together on their barstools and laughing hysterically over things that certainly aren't that funny. They're exhausted from their road trip and he can tell, tries to urge them to head back to the house after about fifteen minutes of being at the bar, but they resist.

"I like this place better than your old joint," Mish calls to him over the chatter, "Smells better too."

"Am I supposed to say thank you?" he calls back with a grin, and she just rolls her eyes and orders him another whiskey.

They don't stay too long, just enough for the girls to get their fill and toss back a few beers, continuing to tell Joel about their trip. Sarah scrolls through the pictures on her phone and shows him the tourist traps, the stops they've made here and there, the food they've eaten. Mish chimes in every so often to add her own anecdotes, bouncing off Sarah's stories naturally like she always has.

He loves how easy it feels to be with them, how comfortable, how safe. He's missed them so much. He wishes things could just stay like this for the rest of the night, simple and light, but every so often he catches Mish looking at him from under her lashes, those dark eyes searching his for something in particular, and he remembers there's still something they haven't addressed.

"Oh my god, Mom," Sarah suddenly says with wide eyes, pointing toward the front of the bar, "Do you see that girl's hat?"

"Where?"

"Those girls over there, look at that purple cowboy hat. Fuuuck, we should be wearing ours!"

Joel rolls his eyes, not bothering to look in the direction Sarah's pointing to and instead focusing on his whiskey, trying to think of ways he can get them out of this bar. Curtis & Viper is suddenly calling his name.

"They're still in the car if you wanna grab 'em," Mish says with a laugh, tossing Sarah the keys, "If you can walk straight."

"Oh please, I've had one beer. We're not all lightweights in this family, ya know," she presses a kiss to her mother's cheek before sliding past to head back to the front of the bar.

"Well, now that we have a moment alone..." she leans forward a bit on her elbow, hand cupping her chin as she tilts her head, "You didn't answer my question the other day, cowboy."

Here it is, the conversation he's been dreading, the one thing he's been putting off talking about the most. And why has he been dreading it? Why has he been filled with so much discomfort and anxiety at the thought of telling Mish that even though he's technically single, he can't be with her this time? It's not like she'd be angry with him, like she'd misunderstand or throw a fit over it. So why can't he just say it?

He knows why. It's because he doesn't want to tell Mish about you. It's because the second he says no, she'll see right through him; she'll know. She'll know immediately that there's somebody else, and she'll clock his feelings - the feelings he's been forcing himself to bury - and then he'll have to confront them, what they really mean.

And as usual, he's terrified.

He plays dumb, "What question?"

She inches the stool forward with a smirk, eyeing him pointedly as he feels her bare leg touch his jeans, slowly drifting up and down along his calf. Fuck. She tilts her head, eyes falling to his lips and then going back up to meet his gaze.

"Playin' coy, are we?" she asks softly, "Need me to say it out loud, huh?"

He feels goosebumps rise all over his arms at the sound of her voice like that, low and sultry; it's the voice she reserves just for these private moments together, fully aware of the effect she has over him.

"You gonna fuck me, cowboy?" she continues, eyes falling to his lips again, "Huh? You been missin' me in your bed?"

Fuck.

He doesn't say anything, just watches as her face moves a little closer to his, the hint of his favorite sly smile puling at the corner of her mouth. She assesses him quietly, gaze raking over his features.

"You're shy tonight, aren't you?" she says, fluttering her lashes, "You need me to take care of you, baby boy? You need your mommy?"

Only Mish could get away with saying something like that to him. He can't help but let a grin cross his own face as he shakes his head at the words, feeling his cheeks flush. He's still unsure what to say, what to think, how to feel. Under any other circumstance they would already be fucking in a bathroom stall at this point, and in a few seconds she's gonna realize that and wonder why the fuck he won't give in.

She kisses him then. Softly.

And it's right. It's so fucking right in all the ways it's always been. Her mouth is warm, lips plump and wet and sweet against his, capturing his bottom lip between hers in that seductive fashion she's oh so good at. Without any thought, as if on instinct, his hand comes up to cup her face, holding her there for a moment as he breathes her in. He realizes how easy it would be to just fall back into this rhythm, this old habit they've been indulging themselves in for years. It just feels so right.

But it's also so fucking wrong.

It's wrong. It's so wrong. This is not the mouth he wants to be kissing. For years, he's always found comfort and safety in Mish's kiss, never once felt like what they were doing was incorrect or some kind of mistake. But now it's like every fiber of his being is telling him to stop. To pull away. To end this as soon as possible.

So he does.

He takes a deep breath as they separate, pulls back from her on his stool a bit and takes another sip of whiskey. No, this can't happen. It's not going to happen. But he's gonna have to tell her that, otherwise she'll take the next step and he's not sure he'll be able to reign it in after that. The thought of her naked body underneath him in his bed is admittedly a tantalizing offer, the thought of being inside her again after so many years apart...

But she won't be the first naked woman in that bed. In that house. Someone else has already staked their claim, regardless of whether what he shares with you is real or not. And that thought is what pulls him out of it.

"Sarah's right," he says with a smile, "You are a lightweight."

She cocks her brow, "You think I'm drunk?"

He chuckles and takes another sip, "I think you're only here for one night and we should be spendin' that one night with our daughter."

She doesn't say anything for a second, just watches him thoughtfully until he finally meets her gaze again.

"Joel Miller, are you gettin' laid?"

He almost chokes on his whiskey, unable to stop himself from snorting as he shakes his head and peers at her with that fond look he's always given her, the one that lets her know that despite everything, he fucking adores her. She leans a bit closer, tilting her head a bit more with intrigue.

"Seriously, you seein' anyone?" she seems genuinely interested, eyes alight with curiosity, "You got someone new?"

Before he can say anything - before he even really knows what to say - Sarah has reappeared at the bar, hats in hand. He looks down at them and raises an eyebrow as Mish grabs hers, or rather his, the ratty old brown one he used to wear sometimes in the eighties. She grins and winks as if to say yeah, I stole it, so what?

"Okay well, purple cowboy hat girl is currently holding her friend's hair while she throws up on the sidewalk," Sarah sighs, placing her own atop her head.

Joel and Mish groan simultaneously, "Been there," they both say at the same time, catching each other's eye before Joel turns his attention back to his drink, almost gone now. She doesn't ask him anything else, but he knows this conversation is far from over.

--

Sarah drops them off at his place, promising to be back in a bit with the much anticipated junk food - no point in them all going together. Joel almost tells her not to go, his heart in his throat as he and Mish climb out of the car. He can't believe how desperate he suddenly is to not be alone with her. But he can't bring himself to say anything.

Coward.

She walks into the house first, almost like she's leading him into the lion's den. There's no escaping her questions now, no more running away from the inevitable. He has to tell her before it's too late. The front door closes behind them and they stand frozen for a moment, not speaking, not even really looking at each other. He could cut the tension with a knife.

"So how 'bout showin' me those boxes?" she finally asks, turning to give him a smile.

They make their way up the stairs to the guest room, Joel's anxiety reaching new levels when they pass by his bedroom. He not so subtly grabs the knob and pulls the door closed, tries to pretend he doesn't notice Mish eyeing him as he does it.

The guest room is still pretty bare bones, only a bed and dresser occupying the space, along with about half a dozen cardboard boxes. He's been meaning to do it up for when Sarah comes to stay, do some decorating, but he's never been good at that kind of stuff - Mish and Sarah were always the creative ones.

They crouch on the floor together and Joel watches as Mish pops open the first box, digging her hand inside and immediately coming out with a framed photo of Sarah's kindergarten graduation.

"Aw, look," she murmurs, thumbing the glass lightly and turning it toward him, "Little bean."

"She was so excited you came," he says with a smile, "It was all she talked about for months."

Mish smiles back sadly, eyeing the photograph one more time before placing it on the floor. She reaches in again and comes out with another framed photo, this one of an even younger Sarah being pushed on a swing by Joel. She's probably almost two, chubby legs poking out through the holes of the swing as she giggles in wonder, Joel standing behind, squinting against the sun.

"I've always loved this one," she says quietly, showing it to him, "Always wanted a copy to keep."

"We can make that happen," he takes it from her and looks down at it himself, feeling a mixture of emotions flutter in his heart at his much younger self - freshly twenty - pushing his little girl. He'd been on his own for a while at that point; he can see the tiredness in his expression, the loneliness.

"Still mad I missed all that," she murmurs, sitting back on her heels and sighing deeply, "Hate myself so much sometimes."

He's not sure what to say, just puts the picture back down and reaches in for another one - Sarah's high school graduation this time. It's a backyard photo, one taken at the barbecue they'd had with about thirty people all crammed into one frame. There are smiles all around, beer bottles raised, and Sarah in the center wearing that beautiful purple dress she'd spent almost a year working on. Mish and Joel stand on either side of her, frozen in a moment of laughter.

What the camera didn't catch was that behind that purple dress, they were holding hands.

"What a party that was, huh?" Mish glances up at him from under her lashes, those dark eyes sparkling with nostalgia, "You remember?"

He smiles softly, "I remember."

--

The arrangement started in '03.

They hadn't seen each other in about three years when she showed up on his doorstep in the summer of '96. She'd been in and out of their lives before then, usually called every other week to check in and talk to Sarah but rarely ever showed her face. Sarah barely knew her but had a love for her that burned so deep that Joel couldn't say half the things he wanted to. Couldn't tell his daughter that her mother was unpredictable and unreliable, that she'd disappeared for almost two years after Sarah had been born, hadn't checked in once, had only begun to show up again in 1988 when Sarah was almost three. And then one day the calls just stopped coming and he had no other choice but to tell her the truth. She was only eight.

Mish showing up again out of the blue when Sarah was eleven was not something they could have ever predicted. He was angry. She was sorry. She'd been to a facility, had been seeing a psychiatrist and a therapist for a solid chunk of time and was on medication. Sarah slapped her across the face and sprinted barefoot down the street until her toes were bloody and she couldn't run anymore. Joel found her and cradled her in his arms like he'd done when she was a baby, promised he'd make Mish go away if that's what Sarah wanted.

It was not what she wanted. She wanted a mom. She wanted her mom. She wanted them to be together.

After that, all they could do was try and heal.

And Mish tried. She did. She was ready. Joel was willing to listen. Sarah forgave, slowly. By Christmas of '97 they were living together again. They'd put their wedding rings back on.

But it couldn't last.

"Maybe this just isn't meant to work," she'd whispered to him tearfully on their back patio on a rainy day in March of '98, head in her hands, "I'm better in some ways but worse in others. I'm not meant for this kinda life, Joel. I just can't stay still anymore."

"Maybe we aren't meant to work," he'd told her firmly, "But Sarah needs you, Michelle. You can't just keep coming back into her life and then disappearing. If you do, you're never gonna see her again."

"I know," she'd whispered, quiet and scared, "I know, Joel. And I won't, I'll never do that to her ever again. But I just..." she'd hung her head, tears streaming down her face, "I just don't know what to do."

He'd suddenly felt a flash of deja vu, a reminder of a moment similar to this one twelve years earlier, when he'd held her just like this while she'd cried in his arms, hopelessness raking through both their trembling forms in the downpour.

"They'll kill me, Joel. They're gonna kill me. How am I supposed to be a mom? This can't be real. This isn't happening. What are we gonna do?"

"I don't know, Mish. But I'm with you, okay? I'm not goin' anywhere. You got me. I don't care what they think, what they wanna do. It's just you and me, you hear me?"

"You and me, Joel. Just you and me."

She left Joel and the life they'd cultivated in the year since she came back, but she didn't leave Sarah, not this time. She kept up with regular visits, called often, tried her best to be a mother in the only ways she knew how. Eventually Joel stopped worrying she'd disappear again, and she didn't. Sarah and Mish's relationship wasn't an easy one, especially during those first few years of being reconnected, but eventually they were mother and daughter again. The way it always should have been. They'd go on adventures together, road trips and concerts and trips to amusement parks, everything they could to make up for lost time.

As for she and Joel, they became friends. For the first time in a long time they talked again, really talked. They got to know each other from scratch without the pressures of trying to be people they weren't; she'd come to stay every so often and she'd be more than welcome in their home, a reassuring presence to Sarah and a comforting one for him. There were times he almost kissed her again, almost embraced her the way they used to embrace, but then he'd remind himself that they didn't work. Couldn't work. He'd push the feelings down and love her from a distance, the only way he could.

She came to stay for Sarah's graduation in '03. They had a big party, invited everyone they knew, got very drunk. The inevitable finally happened, something they'd been skirting around for the past few years every time they saw each other, the attraction and tension building and building the longer they went without admitting that they still wanted one another. They'd been through the ringer together and came out the other side and still looked at each other like they had in high school. It was only a matter of time.

They fucked all night and into the morning.

"Oh my god," he'd groaned into her ear, naked bodies splayed against each other in bed, entwined together for the first time in almost seven years, "I missed that. Jesus fuck, I missed that."

It was only meant to be that one time, a celebration of some sort that happened unexpectedly but never again. That was the case until she came back in '06, still single, still beautiful, and he couldn't help himself. They both couldn't help themselves.

The arrangement was simple: whenever they reunited with each other and they were both single, both wanted it, they'd have sex.

It worked. And it was good, so fucking good. Every time. They were wild with it, felt younger than they'd ever been whenever they were tangled up in Joel's bed, on the couch, in the shower. They tried new things together and had more fun than they'd ever had when they were actually in a relationship. Each time it was like they were playing pretend; pretending for a short while that their everyday problems didn't exist, nothing else existed but them. Just them - just this moment.

The last time he saw Mish was four years ago. He'd been fresh out of his last relationship, the only relationship that had really meant something to him since his marriage. Tess was lovely, beautiful and funny and exactly the person he'd needed after those tumultuous years with Mish; someone calm and collected, stable and secure. They were just friends first, for a while, but eventually developed a sexual relationship that was only ever meant to be casual. After about a year she'd confessed her feelings and he'd thought, what the hell, I might as well try. Unfortunately, his what the hell attitude had been a steady feature of their entire relationship, and he'd never been able to fully be what she'd needed.

It was his fault it ended, but that hadn't stopped him from feeling heartbroken over it. And when Sarah and Mish had visited she'd dressed his wounds in the only way she really knew how - sex. The sex was always good with Mish, regardless of the situation. It was always what they needed. But it could only ever be sex because their personalities were never meant to blend; she was flighty and wild and needed space - he was steady and serious and enjoyed the comforts of home. And those early years were something he'd never get back, something he still blamed her for, and she knew it. It could never work, as much as they may have tried early on.

She'd been on the cusp of a new relationship, this guy Alvin who she'd met in Philadelphia, but nothing was set in stone yet and she wanted Joel to feel good.

"Nothing else matters right now," she'd whispered in the darkness of their old bedroom, the one he'd shared with her countless times over the past twenty years, "It's just you and me, Joel. It's always been you and me."

"You and me, Mish," he'd repeated, hands firm against her bare back as she slowly began to ride him, "Just us, just you and me."

--

He's still staring at the picture of their younger selves when her hand slowly comes down to touch one of his. He swallows tightly, feels her eyes on him, senses her moving closer.

"Mish," he whispers; an acknowledgement? A warning?

He feels a finger on his chin, tilting his head up to meet her gaze, and then she's kissing him again. It's different than it was at the bar, much less soft, less reserved. She moans into his mouth as the picture falls to the floor, pushes him down so he's laying flat and then throws a leg over his thighs. She situates herself in his lap in the span of about five seconds and he barely has any time to register what's even happening.

But when he does... he's not happy.

"Stop," he mumbles against her mouth, bringing his hands down to grab her hips and carefully pull her off of him. Her brows furrow in confusion as he slides her away and sits back up, kneels and then stands with a groan. His fucking knees.

"Why?" she asks, peering up at him from the floor.

"'Cause... 'cause nothin'," he lies, shaking his head and sitting down on the edge of the bed with a sigh, wincing as his bones crack from being on the floor in such an odd position, "Nothin', I'm just tired."

She follows him up from the floor and onto the bed, seats herself beside him and leans in to mouth gently against his neck, hot and wet, "That's okay, baby. I can do all the work."

"I said no, Mish," he repeats, standing up again and walking away from the bed, "I don't want to."

"Why?" she repeats, adamant now.

He splutters, kicking his feet and not meeting her gaze, "Sarah'll be back soon, there's no time."

"Time has never been an issue before, you know that more than anybody."

"I just don't want you right now, alright?" it comes out much louder and angrier than he'd intended, "Jesus Christ, Mish."

That stops her short, the room plunging into silence as she stares at him from her place on the edge of the bed. Her lips begin to tremble, hands coming to wring together in her lap uncomfortably. She shakes her head slowly, tears welling in her wide eyes.

"I'm sorry," she whispers, voice shaky, "I'm sorry, Joel."

God dammit. He hadn't meant to make her cry.

With a sigh he walks back over to the bed, sitting down beside her again - but not as close this time. She continues to stare forward, still tugging at her hands as tears slowly start to make their way down her cheeks. He feels a familiar pang of pity in his heart, the urge to comfort her like he always has, hold her close and kiss her softly. But he doesn't do that; instead, he places a hand on hers to halt her movements, squeezes them gently.

"You wanna know why it didn't work out with Alvin, Joel?" she asks quietly.

"Why?"

She takes a shaky breath, "He had a wife. A fuckin' wife and three kids. Young kids, still in school, still livin' at home."

"Jesus," he mutters.

"And you wanna know how I found out? Because one night he was sayin' her name when he was fuckin' me; Sharon. Fuckin' Sharon. Repeatin' it over and over without even realizing. And then he had the audacity to act like he didn't know what the hell I was talkin' about." The tears are flowing steadily now, staining her cheeks and dripping down onto their locked hands, "I did some diggin', found out his real name, found his whole other life. I've been a fuckin' mistress for four years and had no clue."

"Michelle..." he breathes.

"Don't call me that," she snaps, turning her face away from him and trying to reign the tears back in but failing miserably, voice coming out in sobs now, "You know how long it's been since someone wanted me, Joel? Actually wanted me? I get that I'm a shitty person. I know I fucked up a lot in my life. I mean, maybe I don't deserve love, 'cause why the hell can't I fuckin' find it? Why does nobody want me?"

"Stop," he says firmly, squeezing her hands tighter, "Don't say shit like that, don't think that way."

"But it's true," she cries, pulling her hands away and bringing them up to her face, "I just needed to be wanted again, Joel. Just for a night, and now you don't even want me."

"That's- that's not true, Mish, come on."

"You literally just said the words two minutes ago," she's suddenly inconsolable, tears streaming down her face as she sobs beside him, "You don't want me, no one wants me."

His arms come up to wrap around her, pull her close to him as she cries harder. He doesn't know what the fuck to do, how to be what she needs without being what she needs. It's an impossible position to be in; how can he just walk out the door and leave her sitting there like this? Leave her so sad, so broken?

"Joel, I need this," she whispers, peering up at him through her wet lashes and leaning her head forward to rest against his shoulder, "Please. I need you."

God. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. What the fuck is he supposed to do? How the fuck can he say no when she's looking at him like that, begging for him?

"Please," she repeats, turning her head and pressing a wet kiss to the skin of his collarbone, "Please, Joel, please," her kisses slowly move up to his neck, warm and safe and familiar. His eyes start to close, lips parting as she keeps going, "It's just us, it's you and me."

Just us, you and me.

"Stay here," he finally breathes, thumbing the skin of her hip reassuringly, "Just - just stay here, okay? I'll be right back."

He finds himself thirty seconds later just standing in his bedroom, unmoving, unsure, thoughts going a mile a minute. He breathes in and out slowly, tries to calm the anxiety threatening to burst through the seams of his very being. What the fuck am I doing? What the actual fuck am I doing right now?

He goes through the motions without really feeling or understanding them. Goes to the bathroom and relieves himself, splashes cold water on his face and stares at his reflection for too long. Heads back to his bedroom and just stands there again, heart pounding. She's waiting for him. Time is passing and he's just standing there.

"Joel?" he hears her call out, voice still thick with tears.

He does not want her to follow him in here. He does not want to have sex in this bed.

With shaky steps he walks over to his nightstand and tugs it open, sees the box of condoms. Stares at them. Stares at them so long that she calls out again.

"Joel? You comin'?"

He feels like he's underwater, ears ringing as his hand trembles on the handle of the drawer, itching to just slam it closed again. What am I doing? What am I doing? What am I doing?

And then he sees it.

He'd completely forgotten it was there, has been doing his best this entire night to not think about you that he's already managed to forget what happened last night. But he remembers now. He reaches down, hand suddenly completely steady, and pulls the gold chain to entwine around his fingers. It's like he's touching you in a way, feeling you, sensing you - your tears, your sadness, your anger, your insecurities - all wrapped up in this one little cross.

He thumbs it carefully, eyes softening, anxiety ebbing away as the seconds pass. He pictures your lovely face this morning, all sleepy and pretty and perfect in the glow of the early sunrise, the way your hair framed your face, the way you bit your lip shyly when you told him what was on your mind.

He hears footsteps in the hall, knows she's coming, but he doesn't care. Just keeps standing there with his hand curled around your crucifix and warmth filling his chest.

He hears the door open, hears her step inside.

"I can't," he says softly, before she can speak.

Silence. Then -

"What's that?"

"It's..." he closes his fist around the crucifix and then shuts the drawer slowly, still looking down at it. When he finally brings his head up he sees Mish standing near the side of the bed, looking at him with confusion in her eyes.

He swallows tightly, "There's someone else, Mish."

He watches the realization dawn on her face, the confusion fading and acceptance flooding her features. She nods slowly, bringing a hand up to wipe the tears still trickling down her cheeks. "You coulda just said that," she breathes, closing her eyes, "Why didn't you just say?"

He doesn't reply, doesn't know what to say. Or rather, knows what to say but can't say it because then it'll make it real. And he's still so fucking scared for it to be real.

Mish slowly walks forward and sits on the edge of the bed, taking a few steadying breaths to calm herself. "Feel like a fuckin' idiot," she mumbles; she seems okay now, nowhere near as hysterical as she'd been before.

"You're not an idiot," he murmurs. God, he should have just fucking told her. He should have said something.

"So, who is she?" she asks quietly.

"She's..." he swallows again, taking a seat on the other side of the bed, facing the opposite direction, "She's a girl I met a little while ago." A few weeks ago, he mentally corrects. Almost a month. Barely any time at all.

She clocks that. "Girl? Or woman?"

"....Girl."

"How old?"

"Twenty one."

"Jesus," he's not sure what she's thinking when he can't see her face, not sure if she's angry or disgusted or just surprised, "I mean, wow. That's... that's young, Joel."

"I know."

"Never known you to go even ten years lower."

"I know."

Silence again. He's waiting for her to ask the question, the one he knows is coming, the one he's been dreading every since he got that text from Sarah on Wednesday. The one that will force him to admit what he's so desperately been trying to bury.

"So... is it just sex? Or is it..." she trails off for a few seconds, "Is it more?"

There it is.

"I don't know," he murmurs, putting his face in his hands and hunching over the side of the bed with a groan, "I don't know what it is but she's... she's in my head, ya know? She's everywhere, can't stop fuckin' thinkin' about her." The crucifix digs into his cheek, probably making an imprint in his skin, "She's so fuckin' young but, God, Mish, she's so fuckin' sweet. I wanna... I wanna take care of her, ya know? But-" he feels the tears flooding his eyes, tries to swallow his feelings as best he can, "I'm just.. I can't..."

"You're in over your head," she acknowledges softly, "You don't know what you're doin'."

"I don't."

"And that scares the fuck outta you, huh?"

"Pretty much."

They don't say anything else for a few moments, both absorbing the revelation in silence and neither really knowing what else to say about it. This night has gone in a direction that neither were prepared for and he's not sure they'll be able to fix it before Sarah gets back. Which reminds him...

"You'd think Sarah woulda been back by now."

Mish snorts, a welcome sound in the middle of so much tension. He turns around to look at her, finds her doing the exact same thing.

"I told her to give us forty five minutes to an hour, tops," she says with a half smile.

Of course she did.

--

Mish decides to get a cab back to the motel she and Sarah booked. He doesn't argue. He knows it's for the best, knows there will be another, better conversation some time in the future and that despite everything, they'll see each other again.

"She's lucky to have you," she tells him softly at the front door, wrapping her arms around him in a warm embrace. He can hear the sincerity in her words, knows she means it. "You'll take care of her, Joel. Like you take care of everyone."

He just closes his eyes, pulls her in closer and lets the tears fall.

--

Sarah gets back with the food, doesn't question where Mish is; she must have texted her and told her she wouldn't be here. There's no awkwardness or questions, just the same old familiarity and love as Sarah pops the first DVD into the ancient player they've had forever and settles in beside him on the couch. They only half-watch it, continuously getting distracted by each other's dumb commentary and random anecdotes about the past. This is what he wanted tonight to be. Just this.

He tries his best to be present with Sarah, but by the time they're halfway through the second film he can't stop thinking about you. He'd spent so much of today trying to push thoughts of you away and now your face is suddenly all he can see whenever he blinks, your soft giggles and whimpers echoing in his ears. He wonders what you're doing, if you're having a nice time with your friend, if you're being careful like he'd told you to be. You'd said this was your first time going out and he just hopes you're safe. Your crucifix sits reassuringly in the pocket of his jeans, almost like a part of you is still here with him.

He excuses himself to use the bathroom and sends you a quick text:

Hope you're having a good night, babygirl. You deserve to have some fun. I'll see you tomorrow. Be safe.❤️

He feels the urge to press a kiss to his phone and wonders when the hell he got so damn soft. He can practically hear Mish's voice telling him you've always been soft, dummy. She'd be right.

--

They both wake up the next morning still snuggled up on the couch, Sarah on one end and him on the other. He yawns and stretches, groans when he feels a searing pain in his lower back; fuck, he shouldn't have slept on the couch.

"Old man," Sarah mocks quietly with a glint in her eye, and he playfully slaps her leg.

He checks his phone when Sarah heads to the bathroom, hopes maybe you'll have replied to him when you got in last night, but there's nothing there. He frowns but lets logic soothe him, reminding himself that you were probably too tired when you got back and fell asleep right away. He sends you another text, just to be sure:

You get home ok? Let me know x

He'll see you soon for your lesson anyway.

After breakfast he walks Sarah out onto the front step, hand holding hers tightly, almost afraid to let go. She smiles up at him sadly and squeezes back, a silent promise.

"I'll visit again real soon, Dad," she says quietly, "Sooner than last time. I'll bring Jude too, y'all can watch football together."

He smiles with watery eyes, "I'm countin' on it, kiddo."

"You're not lonely, are you?" she suddenly asks, expression one of love and concern, "You got people here, right?"

Your face crosses his mind again, your lovely smile, that little line between your brows, "I'm not lonely," he reassures her softly, "Promise."

He means it.

They hug each other tenderly, basking in one last moment together before they inevitably have to pull away. She walks to her car and turns back with one final wave, tears glistening in her eyes. He waves back and then heads back inside the house quickly before she can see what a mess he is, hands coming up to cover his eyes on the other side of the door as he pulls himself together.

And then, just like that, he's alone again.

--

You don't show up to your lesson.

His first thought is that you're still asleep, probably hungover from last night and desperately in need of some rest. He doesn't blame you, has had more bad hangovers than he can even count. He checks in with you anyway, hoping he'll hear back soon when you wake up.

Another hour passes; he's already cleaned up the kitchen, vacuumed up the popcorn lining the couch and living room floor, rearranged the DVDs, and suddenly the boxes upstairs in the guest room are calling his name. Anything to make the time pass, anything to distract himself from the fact that he still hasn't heard from you.

He texts you again after two hours, after he's finished unpacking two boxes. He just sends some question marks this time. It's around noon now and he keeps trying to convince himself that you're just sleeping, probably still passed out in bed with leftover alcohol buzzing through your veins. The thought makes him wish he was there with you, taking care of you, bringing you glasses of water and cuddling with you until you feel better.

It's mid afternoon when he starts to question whether or not you even got home. He knows you're not home home, that you'd gone to an Airbnb with your friend for the weekend, but he has no idea where it is and if you're even there. What if something happened on the night out? What if you got lost or got too fucked up to figure out how to get back? What if someone you didn't know took you back with them?

He feels sick to his stomach. This time he does the only rational thing he feels he can do - he calls you. He sits on the edge of his bed, toes tapping against the hardwood floor as he waits for you to pick up, but you don't. It goes to voicemail. He hangs up and tries again. Same thing.

He texts you again, but something tells him you won't be reading them any time soon.

--

He leaves the house to clear his head, anxiously tapping on the wheel as he drives around the neighborhood. He passes by your parents' house a few times, eyeing the property and trying his best to see past the ridiculous fence they have blocking off the place. He makes out a police car in the driveway and almost has a panic attack before he remembers that your father is a cop and that's just the vehicle he drives.

He calls and texts you a few more times as the evening comes around. He pours himself some whiskey and tries to calm himself down, breathes in and out, practices the exercises he's had to depend on throughout most of his life. He's always had an anxiety problem, has been on and off medication for it for years. He briefly considers popping an Ativan before realizing that he probably shouldn't mix it with alcohol.

The alcohol messes with his head a bit as darkness falls. He starts to wonder if maybe you did get back safe, just with someone else, someone new. Maybe you met someone, had a connection, took them home and let them be the one to fuck you for the first time. Maybe the reason you're not reaching out is because you're afraid of what he'll say, afraid he'll be angry.

While the thought makes him feel sick and sad, he's even sicker and sadder about not knowing where the fuck you are. He sends you a text to reiterate this, hoping you'll read it and understand:

Just a text is all I need honey. I promise. If you're not feeling this anymore that's okay. Just wanna know you got home safe last night.

He's already unpacked all the boxes, peppered photographs and music memorabilia all over his house as the day came to a close, and now he has nothing else to do but just sit and wait. So he waits. And waits. And waits.

You still don't reply.

He calls you over and over again, wondering what the fuck he's going to do. He can't in good conscious just let this go on, just stop contacting you and let you come back to him on your own. What if something bad really did happen? What if you're really fucked up somewhere? What if someone took advantage of you? He can't just sit idly by and wait.

He lays in bed and stares at the ceiling, feels tears sting his eyes every time he comes up with a new concept as to where you are, what could have happened. All he wants is to have you here with him, warm and soft in his bed, close in all the ways he needs you.

I don't know what to do angel. Can't stop thinking about you. Wish you were here in my arms. Please be safe.

He's scaring himself the longer he thinks about where you could be, knows he has to take action. He decides that if he still hasn't heard from you by tomorrow morning, he'll tell somebody. Whether it be the police or your parents, it doesn't really matter - they're one and the same.

He sends you one last text before the whiskey puts him to sleep:

Please.

--

The doorbell wakes him up. At first he thinks maybe he's hearing things, especially when he tiredly unlocks his phone and sees that it's three in the morning, but then it rings again. And again. Over and over like someone is pressing the button repeatedly. He sits up in bed with a jolt and swings his legs over the side, heart racing as he practically sprints down the stairs.

He turns on the light, squinting with tired and bleary eyes through the frosted glass along the side of the door. He can make out something pink and his eyes widen. He grabs the handle and tugs the door open, only for his body to immediately collide with someone else's, a beautiful girl in a pink dress.

It's you. His beautiful girl. His angel. Standing there almost completely unable to hold yourself upright as you lean against him, arms coming up to wrap around his middle. He holds you close, momentarily frozen in shock.

"Are you okay?"

You're so out of it. He takes you to the couch and you can barely open your eyes, can barely get words out as you flop drunkenly against the cushions. He can't tell if you're drunk or high or both, trying his best to get your attention, desperately asking what you took, where you've been. It's terrifying to see you like this, so completely not yourself, loose and uninhibited in the worst way. You tell him you came here with Tasha and he waves her inside, hoping she can help shed some light on what the fuck happened to you.

Tasha is something else. She stands her ground, doesn't back down when he clearly tries to intimidate her, consistently tries to get past him and reach for you despite his attempts to block her. He's angry, so fucking angry that she could let this happen to you. How long have you been like this? How long has this "night out" been going on? Did it turn into a fucking bender?

"She knows what you've been doing, you asshole." The words mean nothing to him, he has no idea what the fuck she's even talking about. They're clearly both wasted - you more than her - and have somehow wound up at his house at three in the morning by some miraculous volition. He's not letting you leave with her, that's for sure.

Then you say the same thing to him and he's beyond confused, waiting to be let in on whatever sick fucking joke is being played on him right now. What do they think he's been doing? What do they think they know? What have their intoxicated brains convinced themselves of?

And then the other shoe drops.

"We saw you kiss someone else."

That feeling he'd had yesterday - that sensation of being underwater - returns in full force. He stares at you; not Tasha, you. Because as soon as she says it your eyes tear away from him to stare at the floor, lips trembling in sadness, hands shaking beneath Tasha's arms. He can see it in your expression, in your body language despite the alcohol - you're fucking heartbroken. You can't even look at him.

He tries to explain but the words aren't coming out right; he's sure he sounds absolutely pathetic as he just stands there in the middle of the living room, stumbling over his words like the absolute fool he is. You still don't look at him. You don't say anything, and it kills him.

That's when he realizes that Tasha is not the one in the wrong here. It's him. He's the one who deserves to be shouted at, intimidated, made to feel small. He's the one who fucked up. It's him.

And then - if the situation hadn't already been bad enough - Tasha informs him that you'd seen Sarah leaving this morning. His eyes go wide, heart racing like a steam engine in his chest as he shakes his head and wonders how the fuck this could be happening right now. The past few days he's been so unsure about letting you know the real him, didn't know if he'd ever be able to tell you - and now he has no choice. No choice but to drop a bomb on you in this sad and drunken state, otherwise leave you believing that he's been doing god knows what with god knows who.

"That was my daughter."

You register the words and finally look at him, and his heart swells three sizes in his chest when your gazes meet. Just for a moment you don't look as sad, don't look as broken. You peer into his eyes and he thinks for a moment that maybe you see him, really see him, for the first time. It's both terrifying and incredible and he doesn't know how he manages to get the words out, but he does.

He knows now what he has to do.

He has to tell you. He has to tell you everything.

Tasha apologizes and helps you back out to the cab. He watches her place you carefully inside, watches as you turn your head to look out the back window, still peering at him with that look on your face that he can't really explain. He stands and waits until you've disappeared down the street before going back inside, where he immediately collapses onto the couch, exhausted.

He reaches inside his pocket and tugs out your crucifix, brings it up to his neck with trembling hands and manages to latch it around his neck. He palms the cross, presses it into the bare skin at his collarbone.

She's safe, he thinks to himself, she's safe and that's all that matters.

--

In the morning, as soon as he wakes up, he sends you a text:

I'm so sorry. Words can't even describe how fucking ashamed and embarrassed I am. I can't imagine how horrible that must have been for you. I understand if you don't want to see me anymore, but I want to tell you everything, if you'll let me. I hope you're feeling okay today, angel. Drink lots of water, stay with Tasha. Text me whenever you're ready.

He wants to cry, thinking about how much he hurt you. He wouldn't blame you for wanting this to just be over now, to move on and pretend like you never even met him that day on his front step. He feels so fucking ashamed of himself, angry for not telling Mish the truth from the beginning, horrified that you'd seen him in a moment of weakness like that, a moment of cowardice.

The crucifix stays on his neck throughout his shower and breakfast. He's never been one to wear jewelry, and god knows he's never been one to wear jewelry with religious imagery, but somehow it calms him to have it on, soothes him. His anxiety feels better despite the circumstances, and he's grateful.

His phone buzzes around eleven and the force at which he picks it up almost sends it flying across the room. His brow furrows when he sees a text from an unknown number:

hey it's tasha. sorry about last night. that was a shitshow. she's awake and feeling better, just wanted you to know.

She didn't have to do that and he knows it.

Thank you. I'm glad she has you. I'm sorry for the way I spoke to you, I was just really worried about her.

that's ok. i know you're a good guy. she knows it too.

Do you, though? Do you really still think of him as being someone you can trust, someone you can talk to? Someone you can give yourself to completely?

i'm gonna send you the address of the airbnb. i think you should come talk to her.

The address follows and he puts it into his maps app; it's not too far, he can make it there in about forty minutes.

Thank you so much Tasha

text when ur here, i'll let you in.

--

He sits in his truck for a lot longer than he needs to after pulling up to the house. He knows he has to tell you everything now, that you're going to want answers and that he'll give them to you. But he's made a discovery in the past twelve hours that has his head reeling:

He wants to tell you. He wants you to know all about him. Suddenly, he doesn't mind that he's old and washed up and pathetic. He wants you to know that, wants you to see the real him, who he really is. The unpretty, uncharming reality of his mediocre life. He isn't sure that you'll want it, that you'll want him, but what he's sure of is that he's tired of pretending.

What Mish had said on Friday night - "You know how long it's been since someone wanted me, Joel? Actually wanted me?" - it had resonated with him in a way he hadn't been expecting. He knows that feeling, has been feeling it for years without actually saying it aloud because admitting it was too painful, too scary.

He's been putting on a front for his entire life. First, to his parents, then to Mish, then Sarah, then the select few women who'd come in and out of his life, then Tess, and now you. And he's tired. He's so fucking tired of pretending to be someone else. For the first time in a long time, he actually wants to be him.

I'm here.

Tasha opens the door to let him inside. The house is pretty cozy, probably one of the more inexpensive ones you both could find. He notes the leftover snacks littering the table and couch, the empty wine glasses. He hopes you had fun here, at least for a little while. Before he fucking ruined it.

"She's asleep," Tasha says, closing the door behind him and ushering him inside, "I wanna talk to you for a sec, before you go in."

He nods and she gestures toward the couch for him to sit. He takes his place on the edge, knees together as he looks up at her and waits for her to speak.

"I'm her best friend," she says firmly, hands on her hips - she means business, "I've known her for three years now and I know her better than anyone."

He nods slowly.

"She's really coming into herself right now," Tasha continues, "She's making big discoveries, figuring out who she is and what she wants. You know that."

"I do."

"And... well, we both know that what she wants most is you."

He swallows then, feels his heart begin to pound, clenching his fists at his knees.

"This thing with your ex, is it over?"

"Yes," he says immediately, "She'll always be my daughter's mother, she'll always be my friend, but that part of our relationship is over."

"And you mean that?"

"I mean it."

She assesses him and slowly nods, then curls her finger and urges him to stand back up. He does, suddenly towering over her in the small living room.

"First door on the left," she tells him, then walks to the front door, "I'll give you some space."

She's gone before he has the chance to thank her.

He slowly makes his way down the hallway, step by step. He reaches the door, heart pounding in his chest as he closes his eyes, takes a deep breath and lets the promises he made to himself flood through his mind. His past, his present, and his future... the future he sees with you.

He touches his pocket, feels for your crucifix.

I can do this, he thinks to himself. For her, I can do this.

[harrowharks-iliac-crest]

The River

Worldbuilding/Lore

<< Previous: Lyctorhood | Masterpost

-

So, okay, bear with me here. I think these people's brains are fundamentally different from ours. And I think their brains are spiritual matter, contained in a brain-shape and perhaps even anatomically so. There was talk of a temporal lobe, after all.

Mind you, memories don't just get stored in one place in the brain. The hippocampus is crucial for formation of memories and storing them short-term - for a few months, maybe. After that, I was told in my studies we don't quite know where they go - likely stored in different parts all over the brain, connected to associations.

One thing I do know, however, is that you can't physically see which parts of the brain relate to which memory. Knowing this from necromantic ability should be a skill even Mercymorn would struggle with. Harrow, a bone magician, knows she is not the best flesh magician, so she enlists Ianthe's help for her lobotomy. Ianthe, allegedly the best necromancer in her generation, is actually able to do an alright job, except for one part where Harrow does some herself. Have they found ways to look at memories through the brain? By all current available science, I would rate that fairly impossible. Either science has progressed wildly in this (possible, given the whole ass myriad and then some), or these brains are not the same.

I actually think brains in this are made from much the same matter that The River is. The River is clearly not of Alecto or John's invention. It was discovered somehow, and when they resurrected everyone, they basically found the revenants for the bodies, and just stuck them back in, literally; pockets - or bubbles - of River, containing the revenant exactly, replacing the goopy mess of dead brain in the body.

Now your brains are goopy messes of river, made to look like what you expect the brain to look like. Your perceptions, expectations and rules are important in the River - it makes sense that River/Revenant-brains would still be brain-shaped. It means the brain is more fluid than that, though; in the Lyctor's cases, one soul - one brain - "takes over".

(Doesn't really explain why Lyctors like God, Augustine and Mercymorn consistently have their cavalier's eyes - other than maybe it was just that that's what they were expecting.)

Ok, so I kinda think brains are parts of The River. Coherent as revenants, living in bodies. This would have been the case for the first people who were resurrected a myriad ago - so when they create babies, the baby's brain is also River water, for want of a better term? Therefore everyone's is? And Death, in this post-resurrection world, is just returning to the River proper?

It's a working theory.

The River is a physical place, and also kind of like sub-space. You can enter it, you can form pockets of meaning in there, you can hunt things in there and make wards. You can use it to travel quickly to destinations many lightyears away. It is a physical place, but also a spiritual one. It is, essentially, the brain matter of billions, jumbled together, increasing in entropy with depth, all the way down to the stoma, where you can enter full entropy and be reduced to particles, as I understand.

Did you know that some scientists use entropy to describe brain processes? Entropy increases in the brain as it responds to stimuli. The concept of entropy is necessary for explaining what goes on in the brain, an organ of trillions+ of possible configurations, changing moment by moment. And what happens physically in the brain is perceived by us through a range of associations and thoughts and feelings, which all look and feel very different to the electric charges zipping along nerve axons and synapses releasing chemicals to trigger a reaction in the next nerve along. Which is (a gross oversimplification of) what actually physically happens inside our brains, millionfold, every millisecond.

Hey wait a second though. The Central Nervous System also includes the spinal cord. Is this included in the RiverBrain package deal? What about peripheral nerves? Right, I'm gonna stop this here, it's already one hell of a rabbit hole.

So if I'm right, then brains are made of River, and River is made of Brains. Sub-space, physically traversible brains. If planets, if stars have a soul, the whole Universe has a soul. The River could a manifestation of the Universe's soul, its collective Brain, and it encompasses all once (and future?) living things. It's not in our plane of existence, but can be accessed physically and mentally.

The River might be the source of necromantic ability, and I think either John or Alecto figured out how to access it. I Just Don't Think You're Supposed To.

Ok, let's get into Characters next. Blorboposting incoming.

>> Next: Gideon Nav

[squibbymun]

I like to roleplay on twitter and one of the characters i write is, surprise surprise, emperor. and one day i got bored and decided ''fuck it. this bitch is very susceptible to melting'' and its been like that since pretty much i started musing him BUT I wanted to put some ideas I had here to actually make it something kind of serious instead of something mildly annoying and thought ''Splatoon tumblr might like this so ''

FICTIONAL ILLNESS TIME:

So yeah! Basically they can melt. Heat is a factor in it but it's mostly stress and exhaustion that causes it. It's kind of like in ''stages'' is the best way I can describe it: either he melts very little and only the surface/skin layer gets disrupted and melts or it's deeper and his skin starts getting seperated into more pure ink so its just that specific part of the whole body getting disrupted. Usually it causes a change of skin color (as in instead of a skin color its like. the ink color itself) and it's a lot worst, covers a much larger area and said area is VERY malleable. Like to the point of ''My face is melting and kind of falling off oh god oh fuck''. When he starts solidifying again everything is pretty much okay though! Their hands/face/whatever will solidify into whatever shape it's supposed to be (if missing small pieces that heal themselves in time). Melting generally starts from where ink pressure is the lowest (aka furthest away from the ink sac because i cant think of anything else that works), so the ears, fingers, toes, so on.

Mind you, it doesn't HURT to be melting. Sometimes it's that weird numb tingly static leg feeling, sometimes it's just numbness. Melting is more dangerous in that unless it's a surface layer it's kind of like having a REALLY wide open wound so that opens it up to infections (and lets not forget the airborne ink eating bacteria because THAT doesnt fucking help.) He CAN'T lose limbs from it but they CAN lose body mass from it. It's usually okay unless he's melting really fucking bad though and if it's too much the body can't recover all of it. Not fun. (And again, as mentioned earlier, they can lose small bits of their body but those DO regenerate.)

Rest and liquids help when someone is melting but because their body is trying to recover itself they're probably gonna be various levels of tired after/during it if they werent tired from doing whatever else they were doing already.

for Emperor specifically I imagine this very much inspired how Emperor's Road and their team formation worked as they generally don't need to move or exhaust themselves all too much to overwhelm their enemy aswell as making an unbreakable wall. Win/win for him essentially!

Anyways thats all i have for now thank u for coming to my SquibTalk

[burgerrat]

PoTP AU: Paradise's antichrist Q&A (an infodump really)

(because I need to talk about my silly au even if 3% people read it ejdjdns)

FAIR WARNING THE FOLLOWING WILL CONTAIN MOVIE SPOILERS!!

Let's start with something easy... who or WHAT is Johann Leach?

Johann is... well, they are meant to be percieved as the antichrist within the PoTP universe since they are the result of, what is essentially a right-hand man-vessel for The Devil (Swan) and a fully human person (Winslow) having an offspring.

It's a bit complex to pinpoint exactly in what category Johann would fall under. A hybrid of regular-human and not-entirely-human-anymore-because-of-a-contract ?? Despite their appearence and some of their abilities which can be considered supernatural, they learn and grow much like a human child.

But also.... however Johann will turn out to be as an adult will be reflected from how the parents that raise them are. It's sort of like a changeling kind of situation?? For example: because Winslow and Phoenix are raising them, they will grow up to share MANY physical features that resembles them; this also applies with the mental growth ofc, and it's also where Phoenix becomes extremely important because she helps teaching proper morals and helps Winslow during his emotional ups and downs because of what he's been through. In a way she is what helps Johann become more human, metaphorically and literally.

Now, IF Johann would be left solely in the care of Winslow, or worse- Swan, they'd grow to be a monster. While Winslow is capable of showing parental care and uncondotional love- his emotional instability regarding the Paradise and his boss would lead him to, unitentionally or not, teach Johann that hurting others physically if they have hurt you or wronged you is okay and justified; his insecurity of his disfigurement and fear of his own child rejecting him because of what he really looks like would cause him to Never take off his mask ever for Johann to see him. This would lead Johann to become insecure as well, feeling like they lack some sort of trust/closure with their only parent, as well as becoming more monster-like too, adapting a more bird-like appearence that resembles the Phantom. And on the other hand, if Swan were to raise Johann- they'd look even worse, like a mockery of Swan's actual charming appearence- they'd be a flat out ghoulish, gollum-esque caricature. They'd grow to be more animalistic too since they would not be taught anything at all and instead be hidden from everything and everyone, like a secret one's ashamed to expose; they'd only be fed and occasionally, used as a tactic of intimidation towards workers. Swan wouldn't view Johann as his own child (despite y'know, him being the cause of them existing) and more of a minion he can exploit, much like Winslow. He would be fascinated, but unfortunately would not have a caring bone in his body to raise a whole ass kid.

So, where does that leave us?

It's a bit difficult to say- Johann Leach is a demon-human hybrid who's growing behaviour is very resembling of a changeling. It was mostly inspired by parasitic birds' behaviour of copying the host's babies, from movements down to even physical patterns (such as mouth markings for the mother to recognize as her own), and the movie 'Hatching' (2022).

They may not be entirely human, but their fate is going to be entirely shaped (quite literally) based on what influences are in their life, much like a human.

What supernatural abilities does Johann possess?

They are not many, but they sure are funky!

First and foremost, Johann has the ability to alter their physical form based on their parent/caretaker, as time goes on- they will grow to look like them even though they are their own person; while they can't get rid of their tail (which can just be hidden within clothes and such), their hind legs with change with time and gain a more human form- although if need be (as a mature adult), they'd be capable of transforming them back if they feel the need to flee out of impulse or for feeling threatened, which leads us to the second supernatural ability they have- which is an unnatural speed level. Don't get me wrong it's not some Sonic-level speed, but they'd be able to keep up with a vehicle, mostly thanks to their back legs. (They find it easier to run on all fours too but that is often discouraged by Phoenix because it'd be unnerving to see a human run full-speed towards you on all fours)

This one's more of a supernatural quirk I think... but Johann has retractable dark grey fangs. Again, the color of their teeth is thanks to the previously mentioned behaviour of them copying their caregivers and becoming more like them overtime- Winslow has metal teeth, Johann is copying that dark color pallette (although they do not shine like Winslow's because theirs are completely organic). Their teeth retract into their skull when unused to preserve sharpness + so they can nibble on Winslow as hard as they like since their mouth's basically toothless.

Their teeth being retractable is both an inspo from Toothless (HTTYD) AND a metaphorical reference to Winslow having to get his teeth pulled and replaced when he was first put in Sing Sing 👀

And last but not least! Johann is capable of a banshee's screech, able to break glass and rupture eardrums, when extremely overwhelmed, under pressure, or being overcome by fear- it's kind of a 'fight or flight' vocal response to stun or shatter whatever's causing them distress. Again, this is a metaphorical reference to Winslow's blood-curdling screaming, except it can cause actual damage other than scaring Beef.

How was Winslow able to concieve Johann? What happened?

So this was Winslow's moment of revelation that led him to suspect something paranormal was going on even before Johann was born. Not because of this kinder-surprise pregnancy but because of the 9 months that would follow, I'll elaborate in a moment.

I don't want the idea of Winslow being pregnant to be like THE 'shocking' moment since yanno, trans men are a thing and it's quite natural. I personally never had a staple picture of Winslow being strictly AMAB or AFAB so it's just like- whatever fits best in xyz context and in this case it really doesn't matter. He's "the bearer of the curse" regardless.

Obviously the reason he had a kid in the first place is because he'd been getting intimate with Swan often, whom unbeknownst to him happened to be a Devil Vessel™️ and it just sort of happened. Winslow himself wasn't even aware until he started noticing that a lot of strange symptoms (mainly nausea and fatigue) mixed with a pot belly he couldn't explain, since he could barely keep anything down, could be pregnancy symptoms.

And it doesn't end there. It gets- well, worse and better? During this time period he sort of gains paranormal powers himself, being the carrier of a supernatural creature and all, and he may or may not have caused some chaos here and there during manic episodes (as a result of mood swings + vengance towards Swan) where he believed he was untouchable. (don't worry he quickly loses them after Johann's birth); but also this has it's downsides- with the usual physical pain and discomfort aside, Winslow would experience things such as vivid night terrors where he gets to witness the never-ending suffering in Hell (with a cameo from the Devil himself possibly), projectile vomiting a red mucus-y substance (looks like blood but it is Not blood, it appears to be corrosive towards holy symbols... ), seeing Swan for what he really is, literally. He can see right through his eternally-young facade during these 9 months and each day he's greeted by an increasingly elderly, melty-faced, horned, devil-tailed, and overall monstrous Swan which noticeably puts him on edge every time; and last but not least- somehow Winslow becomes a sort of 'beacon' between his world, and what one would presume is Hell... he becomes the center of attention of some demonic entities who come to foolishly taunt him or push him around- not harm him directly since they're aware of what he's carrying. Now, this can be quite unsettling- but it becomes annoying real fast + it's also a great stress reliever for him since he can't keep killing workers at Paradise if he wants Phoenix to leave without a scratch. And uh. Perhaps use said demons an additional raw snack.

What supernatural abilities does Winslow obtain during this time period?

Mostly telekinetic powers like you'd see in Carrie (1976)! He can move things or flat out shatter them just by intensely glaring at them; he can walk on walls and ceilings, even lie on them (it seems gravity no longer has a logical grip on him for 9 months...); a heightened sense of smell like a cat, which he mainly uses to sniff out foods he's craving- he'd also be capable of landing on his feet or on all fours. He would never ever manage to fall and hit the ground even if he tried. Regardless of how he falls, he will even straight up float in mid-air mere inches from the ground. He is not allowed to get hurt.

How did Winslow successfully keep Swan in the dark about this?

While he did use his powers to help himself keep this a secret from Swan, it's a miracle he didn't find out really. Winslow is not a good liar, so when it came to hide the more 'noticeable' physical changes he was going through, he'd wrap himself up in his cape like a vampire whenever Swan approached him and deliberately act overly dramatic to go along with him hiding in his own cape to make his boss believe it was just 'one of those days'.

There have been times where Swan came comically close to finding out, like one of them running jokes in cartoons. He suspected Winslow was doing something, for example: it couldn't be a coincidence that every camera would keep breaking as soon as Winslow would enter a specific room that very camera was in... but he'd chuck it to being something with reasonable explanation other than, yanno, suddenly developing demonic powers because you're carrying the antichrist? That'd be ridiculous.

Only Swan had some form of what you could call a 'supernatural power', being eternally young and practivally immune to any harm done to him... right?

How did Swan feel about the whole ordeal?

To say that he was fuming during these times would be an understatement. He couldn't understand what in the world was wrong with his songwriter and, what he despised most of all, was that Winslow was somehow sabotaging his cemera equipment- which left him unable to keep an eye on him and potentially lose footage of himself. He was losing control and he hated it.

How did Winslow feel about the whole ordeal?

At first he had no idea what was happening to him either- at first he thought he was dying. Some irreparable side-effect of doing so many drugs while working (which, by the way, he would now violently vomit back out if he tried taking them. Same going for alcohol. His body straight up rejected specific things.); then he believed he had gotten terribly ill or something... then came the powers, which initially scared him- then fascinated him because of course it reminded him of Faust, followed by pure malice as he now finally feels like he has an upper hand over Swan. Somehow.

He, again, didn't fully understand what was happening to him until the day he felt a kick in his stomach when all the pieces of the puzzle sort of fit together. He still wasn't sure why he had powers now, but one thing he was sure of: all this could be traced back to Swan.

And while this did turn on a lightbulb in his head that "huh. Maybe signing my name in blood on a comically large contract isn't very normal. Something's fishy about my 'boss'." This is Winslow we're talking about, and he quickly shoves that realization aside to mischievously plot how to use his new powers for revenge, and of course he has moments where he's on a power trip and feels like he can kill whoever he wants do whatever he wants; this leads to delusions such as taking over the world AKA the music industry but thankfully he never actually acts up on these thoughts.

Lesson of the day: don't give the mad composer psychic powers.

[daydialogue]

The 3rd Trimester (older)

I am at the end of my 3rd trimester and I am starting to feel all the aches and pains in my joints, namely my hip and pelvic area. I havent done anything that everyone else has constituted as quickening labour. I however having been walking a lot more and bouncing on an exercise ball. I know there is more that I can do and sometimes this leads to random bouts of dance parties in my room and squat reps in between my favourite songs. I have been sick with i dont know what for almost a week now and I would like to believe it's getting better but now my husband is sick so that is another thing added to our plate. This is only a problem because we can't get our baby sick because if we can barely breathe I cannot imagine a baby that cannot blow their own nose or let you know that they cannot breathe. We also had to pass like a certain "test" to be eligible for a home birth. Which with a little hard work and focus on my diet brought us through that fiasco with flying colours. Now we just wait on baby. We have had the best support system gift wise because we have all we need for our little one. Anything else would be anything extra that would help us out or diapers and wipes. We definitely feel so blessed. I made a comment to my friends that I will cross my legs and keep the baby in if no one bought me post partum essentials for my vagina, because everyone wants to see the baby and wants the baby to come into the world safely but my cooch will need a lot of aftercare and she will not be neglected. My best friend bought the cooch things and we love her for it. I used the peri bottle today that my friend from back home bought because I got my vagina sugared and she is screaming and i peed and sprayed her with the peri bottle and it felt so good. Also I didn't get sugared because I care if there is hair or not but I would like to not think about anything vagina related for weeks, and if one should experience a vaginal tear, I would really prefer down there to be appropriately landscaped to make it easier for my midwife to stitch and sew as needed. I really dont know how any of that works and I hope no tearing occurs because hello??? that is not the vibe pls. I will have a baby soon and I think that it is so crazy that soon I will have a family of 3 instead of 2. I will never be able to do things sporadically without including my baby. I am also really excited to pump milk. I honestly have no idea why. I just like the idea of being a cow for a while. Like moooooooo. Anyway, I am a whole mom and there are so many things that have happened to my body already. I weigh a bunch which I don't care about but it is so different. I have also weighed less than a certain number and never over and here I am over. Nothing fits. I get tired so easily. I have body parts that have completely changed from their original shape. Everything is different and after baby comes my body will change even more. For 23 years, I have had the same body, with minute changes but I could still wear things I had since age 12. Crazy. I am also in super nesting mode and anything that could threaten time with my baby, I am like this needs to get done ASAP!!!!!

[zukkaoru]

okay, now this may be a weird one... but in mlp, there are seven elements of harmony: generosity, honesty, laughter, kindness, loyalty, & magic (magic is kind of like leadership / synergy). aka, they embody these elements

if you were to assign jjk characters to the elements of harmony, who would you assign to what?

[ex. [blank] is [in your opinion] the most generous, therefore they would be generosity]

[sorry if this one is weird or complex jiugfcghuijoiuygtfd] <333

HI HELLO OKAY i had lots of feelings about this so i'm putting my answers under a readmore bc it uhhhh got long. especially the last one. oops

thank you for the ask beloved and i hope you enjoy my answers <3

generosity: shoko. she just. she has seen so much and she's always the one doing the healing and getting rid of the bodies. without her, the jujutsu world literally could not function and she keeps giving more of herself than what she should to everyone so they can keep on living. she's so tired and she's overworked and rct takes a Lot of cursed energy but she still heals everyone who comes to her. we have not seen one instance where she's run out of cursed energy and can't heal people. she healed almost all the students after the exchange event, and then she still had to deal with the bodies of the sorcerers who had died in the attack. she gives up so much for everyone all the time and she probably rarely even gets thanked for it

honesty: maki. okay so. i'm not actually sure maki is the best fit for this one but i needed to put her on the list bc she's my number one for everything <3 ANYWAY i just think. maki is a very honest person. she tends to be blunt and say things how they are. but she also, over the course of her story has to learn to be honest with herself. she has to learn to be honest about what she wants (leaving home & going to jj high even if that means leaving mai behind) and what she feels (the fact that she doesn't actually hate mai; mai is the person who is at the center of all her motivations). she learns to be unapologetic about who she is - about not having cursed energy, about being a twin and a sister and a daughter, about not behaving in the way her family wants her to. just. yeah. that's all

laughter: haibara. okay i decided this one right away because haibara is just. very symbolic of hope imo. he's always shown as optimistic and smiling, and it's only after his death that everything truly falls apart. haibara had to die for the same reason rue had to die in thg: to show that this world is cruel to kids, and to show that optimism and hope will only meet death until things change. haibara is just. he's the embodiment of laughter. he was excited to stay in okinawa longer and help out with the mission, he was gonna bring back a souvenir for geto, he looks for the best in people,,, ahem anyways yes. haibara laughter i'm correct.

kindness: itadori. i feel like this one is pretty self-explanatory? i mean look at him! he's so friend-shaped! his whole thing is that he wants to save people. he stuck by his grandfather's side even when his grandfather was cranky and angry and rude. he's so very kind despite the circumstances and he just. someone give him a hug; he deserves it

loyalty: megumi. listen. listen. this boy. he doesn't make friends very easily, but when he does decide he likes someone, he is loyal to a fault. we all know this kid is ready and willing to die for itadori. he's basically entered into a one-sided suicide pact with him. he saved yuuji in episode one and he is committed to that decision. but then there's also tsumiki. and i could write an entire analysis on how megumi has essentially tied his life to tsumiki's on multiple occasions (i.e. the iconic "so start by saving me" line, when he was just talking about how it's really tsumiki who needs saving-- anyway) like this kid. if he decides you are worthy of his time, he will both die and kill for you. anyway i could go on but this is long enough already and i'm simply correct <3

magic: gojo. okay so yeah this might be an obvious choice bc "oh he's the strongest sorcerer so obviously he gets magic lolol" but like. you also said it's leadership and gojo has more leadership skills in his pinky finger than all of the higher ups combined. like okay, maybe he messes up sometimes. he's made mistakes. but being a leader is clearly very important to him, and contrary to popular mischaracterization, he actually is good at it. he isn't an awful teacher, and he loves and respects his students. his whole goal is to lead the next generation of sorcerers into the creation of a world where they can be happy. like yeah, he's got magic bc he's literally the strongest but he's on top for a reason. his technique obviously set him up for it, but he learned how to use and master it, and he learned how to bargain with people to get what he wants. he knows exactly how far he can push the higher ups to make them give in. he knows exactly how much he can get. he knew he couldn't save itadori entirely right off the bat, so he bargained for his life. he knew he couldn't just swoop in and steal megumi, so he talked to megumi first and then made a deal with the zen'in clan. he doesn't force his students to blindly follow him - his students argue and disagree with and insult him all the time. but when it comes to things that really matter, it's gojo who they will side with. hakari and kirara got themselves expelled, but they still cared about gojo. the knowledge that gojo got sealed is what convinced them to help. everyone has banded together to unseal gojo because they know he's important, despite the fact that that now gets them a one-way ticket to an execution sentence. gojo is the glue of the jujutsu world - something very evident in the way everything immediately falls apart after he's sealed. okay anyway i'm gonna stop now but yes. these are my feelings

[thejakeformerlyknownasprince]

What do you think the odds are that morphing drastically increases the lifespan of the morpher? IIRC demorphing is based on returning to the DNA of a specific moment and helped by your thoughts on what you should look like/willing yourself to feel like yourself - are the Animorphs all de-aging every time they do it? (Do we even hear that they've aged physically at any point?) Basically I can't get the idea of them being functionally immortal out of my head. Because they need more angst, clearly.

[If you want angst, then here’s my own hypothesis about how morphing is likely to affect the user long-term.]

• They’re forty-six years old.  Technically Rachel’s forty-seven, and Marco three days out from forty-five.  They’re businesspeople.  They’re parents.  They’re adults.  They have knee replacements and 401k accounts.

They are still, Marco points out, too young to be dealing with this shit.  Too young by half.

• Jake was just trying to figure out how to break the news, when Marco called.  All mockery and self-deprecation on the surface, all graves and church doors and plagues on houses, Marco took almost an hour to spit it out.  Melanoma.  Metastasis.  Fuck you.

• It’s a new technology, Ax explains to them, almost apologetically.  The first-ever generation of andalite morphers is only about seventy to eighty human years old, and with a two-century lifespan no one can say for sure how the ones who aren’t nothlits or dead already will turn out.  It’s a new technology, and one never intended for human use.  No one could have foreseen this.

This being Cassie’s doctor calling her to come back in for additional testing, STAT, after that mid-year checkup just because she has been feeling tired all the time.

This being the anger in Rachel’s voice as she demanded: “What do you mean, swollen lymph nodes?”

This being doctors shrugging, sighing, apologizing.

This being the way that the tumors grow back faster and larger, if you morph to try and fix them.

• Cassie goes home.  She hugs each of her children, tells them why she’s retiring effective tomorrow, and smiles through tears when all three of them take leaves of absence as well.  They spend a crazy, stressful, unforgettable eighteen months wandering the world.  They fetch up in a hospice center outside Lagos.  They say goodbye.  They love each other.  Cassie’s a little vague around the edges, when the drugs start kicking in, which is what she blames for not only ordering Ronnie to remarry but compiling a whole list of suggestions for replacement spouses that range from the practical to the absurd.

• Jake says “screw you” when the President suggests that he retire as well.  He gets up.  He goes to work.  He teaches this last batch of recruits how to keep themselves and their friends and the civilians alive.  He teaches his successor how to be patient with mistakes and unforgiving with carelessness, how to offer out praise when it’s deserved and not shirk on criticism.

He calls his former students, every single one of them, one by one.  Over half manage to align schedules long enough to join him for a beer, or a walk, or a couple hours sitting around a boring hospital room.  They tell him about their kids and their battle scars.  They offer the strictly-classified versions of missions that leave Jake laughing hard enough to fall off his chair, or holding their hands in his as they cry.

Ray has cancer.  So does Idara.  Kuan-yu and Skye and Devina too.  They keep each other company, they bitch about chemo together, they rack up new battle scars along surgical lines.

It’s an act of forgiveness for himself, to learn about the legacy he’s leaving behind.  One which has nothing to do with the statue in D.C. or the Medal of Honor in the footlocker at home.

• Tobias doesn’t say anything at all.  He doesn’t respond to Cassie’s requests to at least swing by and see what her mom has to say.  He doesn’t share much of anything when Ax, when Loren, when his grandparents all stop in to see how he’s doing.  He and Rachel talk all day about ordinary things.  They don’t plan on not planning it, but somehow or other they never get around to making wills or even having a proper discussion with their daughter about what it all means.

Tobias disappears, one day, as if he was never there.  The others all search, of course, but they’re not really surprised to find nothing.  The woods are vast.  The body is small.  He’d be happier, to know his meat and bones helped keep a fellow predator alive for one more desperate day.

Rachel’s already one of the biggest and baddest fighters in the National Guard.  But after this she goes off the rails, morphing and fighting and morphing and fighting, rushing from one mission to the next, never staying in her failing human body for a second longer than necessary.  Six months later, she gets her wish: she dies in battle against a group of Neo-Humanist terrorists outside of Peoria.

Jordan thinks that she hates her sister, just a little, as she half-carries her sobbing niece out of their second funeral in less than a year.

• The cells of the human body divide, Ax explains.  He wants it to mean something.  They divide, and they warp, and they distort.  They form new shapes, take on new configurations, they pass through singularities and achieve impossibilities.

Eventually, given time, they get a little too good at dividing.  At warping.  At making themselves, out of control.

• Ax risks court-martial for punching a commander in the face for suggesting that this all the proof they need that humans were never meant to morph.  Punching.  Such a human gesture.  He had a tail right there, and yet… And yet he did what Marco would have done.

• Marco’s fans raise two and a half billion dollars for research.  They donate eight livers, none of which Marco ends up using when he could instead give them away.  They start a foundation in his name.  They donate time, DNA, wristbands, bone marrow.  It’s silly, he thinks, that all it took was putting a face on this disease for half the planet to start emptying their pockets toward its end.

• Jake learns to swallow poison and shave his head.  Cassie learns to retract her life down to that which is most precious and essential.  Marco learns what it is to live without even the possibility of morphing, after they custom-build him a new body and help him move in forever.  Jordan learns how to treasure her niece, treasure her memories, treasure her own time.

• Ax brings them up constantly, even decades after they’re all gone.  Be better, he insists to his arisths and officers and researchers.  Do better.  For them.  They ended a war for us.  They changed how we think about ourselves, and the universe in which we live.  Respect them, by respecting the aliens we’ve never met.  Honor them, by learning to give our technology away.  Remember them, by building a better future in their name. 

[iguanalysis]

Is There a "Little" Jouissance ("j")? The Possible Definitions of Homosexuality in Considerations of Jealousy

I would just begin by saying, whenever I find myself within what Freud termed an "anaclitic love" situation, I wonder if my perception of (my own) masculine narcissism is the basis of something I can't help but call a "little" jouissance. In connection with the ideal ego, perhaps it is a variable one ought to denote with a little "j".

And yet, a familiar haunting persists in my mind of the problems with the object relation (since I keep wondering how it might be subject to certain changes along the lines of sexual difference) in accordance with the problem of subsequently encountering multiple (and seemingly contradictory) different definitions for a now-enigmatic word, "homosexuality". Or at least its definition is enigmatic to me, anyway. What I mean by that is that what I see in the structure of fetishism specifically is the disappearance of the letter "E" from the preoedipal triangle. Focus is diverted away from it towards the ego (m) and the image (i) instead, taking for themselves the whole energy contained within the dynamic between mother and phallus. And all that is not exactly news. But this, to me, is the most foundational premonition or prescience of the subject (S) who is to inherit the child's place. Yet, this "S" is somehow, via fetishism, trapped in a booster-seat of observation, and robbed of all its self-awareness.

But is this cognizance of fetishism a unique privelege of the sex chromosomes which I likely have in at least some of my cellular nuclei, those of "XXYY"? (I believe I have a genetic condition called XXYY syndrome). My body, during puberty, had a distinctly feminine shape. Now that I'm getting older, braver, and losing weight, why does it make me so happy that I might even look like an attractive man myself in addition to desiring sex with other men? This obscure or specific form of enjoyment is what I'm thinking of as a little "j". But is it genuinely homosexual enjoyment if I experience it more intensely from the anaclitic perspective of loving rather than from a narcissistic perspective, which has already far more deliberately shut out the letter "E" from the phallic spectacle which it is so intent on beholding?

I'll just say that I got this idea as well from reading this paper on academia.edu:

https://academia.edu/resource/work/1812768

I wonder about a natural state of balance in the physical world, or better, a state of justice, which necessarily must always be the most essential precondition for the existence of love itself. The character of Clytemnestra from The Oresteia immediately comes to mind, though it is difficult to remember why. Her strongly masculine jealousy towards Agamemnon had no feminine object to take for itself in the form of a so-called normal jealousy. Thus, she inflicted a violent death on her husband and desecrated the House of Atreus as her own womanly form of Melanie Klein's "good enough" jealousy. Typically that denotes a fundamentally "homosexual" diffusion of frustration or perceptual stimuli into the outward world, stimuli which cannot be capable of taking any vengeance back out on the child in return. It is unfair to feeling itself, and yet, this is an indispensable step for the infant's getting-along with the natural states (or "states of justice") of the outer world, in which the concept of love already demands such just conditions. For Clytemnestra, however, if her jealousy or anger are somehow a violent "homosexuality" towards the political universe around her of Ancient Greece, is the death of her cuckolded husband such an indispensable maneuver as it might be for a suckling infant? In other words, where should we locate her little "j"? (In her position, is it maybe only possible for it to be a little "x", or an object of privation?)

[monkeymindscream]

I now want to imagine what it'd be like if the Dark Ones had somehow corrupted Gyrus Krinkle instead of the Alchemist as their Skeleton King... But I can't fathom how disturbing things would be. Though a SK fanboying the Hyper force would be the most terrifying thing ever. Probably ask them where they'd like their bodies to be mounted if he can't brainwash them into his minions (not thinking too hard about the timeline mess. It's all too scary).

I shit you not, from the moment I first got this ask(however long ago that was – my bad,sincerest apologies) this concept’s been stewing in my mind. I already have a ludicrously self-indulgent AUgoing I don’t need this.

ugh here we go again I guess Okay let’s set the scenehere, because for DO!Krinkle to happen, then our canon SK can’t. So let’s say that Captain Shuggazoom, instead of hurryingoff to save the city, stayed with the Alchemist as he went to shut down theNetherworld gate. He had a really skeevy feeling about the whole thing,whatever Al said about the grid being “impenetrable,” so even though his alarmstarted to go off he hung around a few more seconds just to make sure. Thusly,when Mandarin tried to jump up onto the grid, Cap was able to make a smooth-asssave and be like “c’mon little buddy listen to your dad he’s shutting it offnow” and held him back until everything was safely turned off.

(Mandarin sulked for the rest of the day, because being toldwhat to do by anyone other than his dad makes him insufferably cranky.Thankfully for dinner that night they had a noodle dish that happened to be hisfavorite, so his mood perked up considerably. And that’s the anti-climactic endto what would have been a horrible, life-altering evening otherwise.)

Years pass, and things progress pretty much how they did incanon in terms of the monkeys’ training, with a few key differences: Obviously,there was no need to wipe their memories, so even though the monkeys split upto learn their respective trades (Mandarin + Antauri and the Verans, Nova andOffay, etc.) they all still remember each other and would write and videochatand meet back up at their Dad’s for special occasions and stuff. (Also itshould be noted that they became robot monkeys and go off to train at a MUCHmore relaxed pace than in canon. Without demons breathing down their necksthey’re all allowed to move at a healthier pace towards things.) When they allget back to Shuggazoom, they work to help Captain Shuggazoom defend the cityfrom his assorted rogues gallery. TechnicallyCap’s in charge of the whole outfit, but Mandarin secured himself as leader ofthe Monkey Team “conditionally” (hepestered Cap and Al until they caved).

And then along comes Krinkle.

While he’s just as obsessed with the monkeys as he’s everbeen, the difference here is that he ends up coming into the monkey’s lives alittle earlier than he does in canon (Timeline? I FEAR NO TIMELINE). Since themonkeys are – at least – fifty years old by the time of the show, and I’d placeKrinkle anywhere from mid- to late-forties, let’s say he’d start stalking them here during his teens. ThinkSyndrome-from-Incredibles originstory: after pestering Cap to let him be his partner for an unspecified amountof time (and being repeatedly rebuffed; “Kid where the heck are your parents??”),he becomes bitter and disillusioned and decides to take matters into his ownhands. Krinkle’s selling point was that he could be the scientific/mechanicalgenius to Cap’s rough-and-tumble fighting style; he either hadn’t gatheredenough info on the monkeys themselves yet to know that the Team already has oneof each of those, or when Cap pointed this out he was like “yeah I know they couldhelp me it’ll be so cool!!” Cap eventually tries to shut the matter down forgood by saying he already has apartner that fills that role for him, and he’s worked with Al for years so hereally didn’t see a point in changing things now.

Baaaad move there.

So now Krinkle’s all indignant, because whatever this“Alchemist” guy can do, he’s positive he can do better. He manages to find outwhere Al lives (which is still out in the middle of nowhere, bless his oldhermit-y heart), and heads down there with the intent of having a gadget build-offor something to prove he’s the better mechanic. He gets there, breaks in, andstarts plodding around the place trying to find the Alchemist so he can makehis dramatic challenge. He gets distracted when he gets to the lab, because nowthat he’s found his competition’s invention stash he wants to have a look toget a feel for what he’s up against (he grudgingly admits that yeah, fine,these inventions are okay, but hecould still do better if only given thechance). There’s one thing whose function he can’t work out, though. It’s abig, ugly looking machine with a big, circular fixture on it. Kind of lookslike it might be a portal, actually… wonder where it leads to?

Y’ALL KNOW WHERE THIS IS HEADED.

The Hyperforce (who’re still located in the city, as percanon) get a really rude awakening in the middle of the night and have to goout to take care of the demons who’ve managed to escape. Since Cap has themonkeys and the Robot helping him out this time, they manage to wrap it up inwithout too much issue. But when they’re done they all panic a little becausethey only know of one place where demons could come from, and they’re scaredsomething happened to the Alchemist. Obviously, they rush over to his house tocheck on their friend/dad.

Back at the ranch, Al heard Krinkle screaming and ran tohelp (he had no idea who this kid was or whyhe was in his lab, but y’know what those are questions for later).Unfortunately, he’d come onto the scene justas demons were starting to crawl out. He really only caught a glimpse of whatwas happening to Krinkle before he was accosted by unholy netherbeings. He’sstill not corrupted, but by the time the Team get to his house to help he’sbeen plenty disfigured. His face doesn’t really even look like a face anymore, justa skull…

(Confession time: this bit is mostly just because I reallylike SK’s first design. Your skull has no reason to be that weird shape ya bigdoofus. Ya absolute dope. Ya feckin weirdo. God I love ya.)

At some point before Cap and the Team got there, Krinkle hadrun off. After assuring his worried family that he’s okay (all thingsconsidered, anyway), Al feels fucking AWFUL. Some poor child will have tosuffer a fate worse than deathbecause of his machine. Everyone tries to convince him it’s not his fault withlittle success. Sprx, though well-meaning, says something to the effect of“Better him than you, Pop,” which inadvertently makes Al feel worse. Mandarin is unapologetically ofthe mind that the little weasel deserved what he got, and it served him rightfor breaking into the lab in the first place. Not surprisingly, this viewdoesn’t exactly help either.

They don’t see or hear from Krinkle after that. They assumethe corruption was too much for him and he died sometime after running fartherinto the Zone of Wasted Years. Al is continually guilt-ridden.

Not too long after, unfortunately, whatever weird thing thatkonked the monkeys out in canon so Chiro could find them and wake them up stillexists here, so they have to go to sleep and Al and Cap are left alone for abit (I… STILL DO NOT FEAR THETIMELINE, BUT THIS MAKES IT A LITTLE BLURRIER).

Things progress kindanormally from this point, i.e. Chiro wakes the monkeys up, gets Power Primatepowers, and is on the Team. Only differences are that Mandarin’s still on theTeam (and still leader, both because Cap’s kinda old now so “conditionally”turned into “officially,” and I’m sorry but destiny or not if you think foreven a second that Mandarin would let some random human kid lead the Team overhim then you clearly don’t know this simian), and Cap and Al are around.Everything’s hunky-dory for maybe a month as everyone settles in to the newsituation, and then you get exactly one guess what happens next.

Some ways that having Krinkle take SK’s place in canon wouldchange things: Firstly, though he’s still obsessed with the Monkey Team andgunning to lead them, it’s ONLY the monkeys he wants now. Now that he’s gotSpecial Dark One Insights on things, he views Captain Shuggazoom as essentiallya pawn in the grand scheme of things (he don’tgot no special destiny) instead of worshipping him along with the monkeys likehe used to. Moreover, while he doesfixate particularly on Chiro like he does in canon, here it’s because he loathes Chiro. Not only because he’skinda against anything with a “Chosen One” label on it now (as per request ofthe Dark Ones), but he’s also supremely, viciouslyjealous of him. Oh, so he just wasn’t goodenough for the Team, is that it?? He was older than Chiro when he asked to be on the Team, and a mechanical genius! What’s this brat got that he didn’t?!

Next, Krinkle wouldn’t use formless as minions. I’ve alwayskind of headcanoned that the reason SK had the powers that he did was actuallymore because he’d been an Alchemist before rather than it solely being a resultof the Dark One’s corruption. They gave his powers an extraordinary boost, nomistake, but it was only because he’d known how to do magic prior that he wasable to do it as SK. Now Krinkle doesn’tknow a singular thing about magic, so while he has some dark powers now (mostly that he doesn’t need to eat or sleepand has the ability to corrupt other things to some extent), he’s nowhere nearas powerful as SK. So yeah none of that creating goopy-legions with the flickof a wrist for him. He’d fashion himself some mechanical mooks instead (formlessstill would exist in this AU, but I can get into that another time).

Can’t decide if the Skeletal Circle – or whatever theKrinkly-version of this would be – would exist here. On the one hand, I’m sureKrinkle would love to have a group ofpeople dedicated to kowtowing to him (if Krinklezoom’s any indicator, anyway,which I personally think it is). On the other hand… well, we just establishedthat Krinkle wouldn’t be as powerful as SK, so would he really be able toinspire enough awe or terror to justify a cult?

Anyway, if Krinklehas a cult to mirror SK’s, and if Valinahappens to be a thing in this AU, her relationship with Krinkle would be verydifferent than her relationship with SK. Again, Krinkle doesn’t have SK’spower, and one of the things Valina seemed most enamored with about SK was his power. Not to mention the factthat his main goal (possibly even more so than releasing the Dark Ones) seemsto be making himself leader of his enemies.She might have started out in his cult because her parents dragged her there,but I’m decently positive that all she’d see when she looked at him would be apathetic, whiny little man unworthy of the powers he was bestowed. So I can seeher either going “fuck this bullshit I’m out”and splitting to become a threat independent from him, or hanging around andstringing him along until she became his Dragon, and then stabbing him in theback once she’d decided he wasn’t useful to her anymore. So still technicallybecoming a threat independent from him, but just manipulating him and leechinghis power while she did it.

I’ve probably talked about this too much now, but I don’teven care. I love this. Hit me up for more on this any time.

[alghawy7blog]

GM Diet Guide||How Lose Weight ||Best Diet To Lose Weight

Welcome to the 21st century, where modern man has perfected the art of "Fast Food". It may not be completely true, but thanks to the era of the "Global Village", there is hardly any cuisine left in the work, which has not been the victim of this trend. It certainly is the need of the hour in the fast paced world, where so many people no longer have the time or patience to cook healthy food at home. It is ironic how the very population on whose shoulders the world economies are being built, are on the unhealthiest diets in the world.

Thanks to these realities, a considerable portion of this population is suffering from diseases like high cholesterol, diabetes, high blood pressure etc. These are nothing but the direct results of these unhealthy food habits and lazy lifestyles. The youthful population is willing to work itself to death in today's day and age of competition, not realizing that they can do more with a healthy body. High Cholesterol is just the beginning. It can lead to severe heart-related ailments resulting in a shorter lifespan.

It is about time, that people should pay attention to this horror and address it by changing their lifestyle. In order to combat these modern evils, there are two major steps that should be taken. Firstly, change your diet. If you are what you eat, then you should only eat the good stuff. As a youngster, you should look to be ripped and always be ready for swimsuit season. To achieve this goal, you need to plan a step by step plan to measure your progress. Try to eat more raw foods like fruits and salads. You may even want to consider looking into the GM diet. You can try out this week-long plan once every month. It is excellent for detoxifying your body helps to lose up to 5-7 kilograms or 12-14 pounds in a week. Keeping weight in check is a great to fight high cholesterol.

Secondly, start dragging your rear end to the gym. It is unacceptable that a girl or a guy in their twenty's or thirty's being out of shape. There is no simply no excuse. Exercising should be part of your daily routine. Regular exercise boosts your metabolism and overall wellness. High Cholesterol levels are no match for a healthy lifestyle. Carve out at least an hour of light workout every day, and rest on Sunday.

Remember, the future of the human race depends on the youth of the world. So always keep this in mind, that when you do make it big, you better look like a million bucks as well.

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You may love it or you may hate it, but I am very sure, if you are seeking for weight-loss methods, you can never ignore it. General Motors Diet or popularly known GM Diet, ranks highest in the most-sought diet charts. Surprisingly, I have yet not found any information about GM Diet on any of the official sites of General Motors (update me if I have missed any).

Various sites, blogs and forums have discussed about GM diet, but in a scattered manner. My primary intention behind this post is to represent various facets of this diet plan and to give a comprehensive overview, based on the experiences of my own as well as of my friends.

BACKGROUND:

This diet plan was introduced at a general meeting of General Motors Corp. on 15th August 1985, initially intended for the use of the employees of General Motors company, to facilitate wellness and fitness. It was granted by the United States Agricultural Department and the FDA, further tested by the Johns Hopkins Research Centre.

It was designed as a 'De-toxification diet program', to improve ones metabolism through its cleansing systemic effects, reflected by an improved disposition and a feeling of well being. As an end-result, a weight loss of 4-6 kgs was expected within the program-week.

THE PLAN:

Here is the day-wise diet plan and its dietary significance. I have added few things from my experience and experiments, which worked.

Day 1:

Fruits of any kind (except bananas) in any quantity. The most preferred fruits are the melons and cantaloupes, due to their high water content. In addition, you should drink at least 10 glasses of water.

By eating fruits, you are preparing your system for the upcoming program. Fresh fruits are nature's perfect food, providing all essential elements needed to sustain life. Fruits are also a good source of antioxidants and are fiber-rich. Fruits are also considered as a negative-calorie food, thus burning more calories for its digestion than those provided.

Believe me, I have done GM diet twice and have found this day the most difficult one. Firstly because of the sweetish taste of all fruits, and further due to an intense craving for bread or spices, that one develops towards the end of the day. The solution for this is the Soup to break the monotony of the fruity taste.

Day 2:

The day can start with a large baked potato with one pat of butter for breakfast. It definitely fills you with complex carbohydrates to start your day after the first sweety-fruity day.

For the rest of the day, you should eat all sorts of vegetables of your choice, raw or cooked. Vegetables have very less calories, high in nutrients and fiber. There is no limit on the amount. This should be added with drinking at least 10 glasses of water.

One can also mash a baked potato, add some onion & curd, and spice it up with chaat masala & red chilli powder and pinch of salt.

Day 3:

This day consists of a combination of fruits and vegetables of your choice, except banana & potato. In addition, you should drink at least 10 glasses of water. Potato is avoided on this day since the carbohydrates are available from the fruits that you eat.

One can do varieties of salads mixed with fruit slices. If you take more cucumber and melons, it's more likely to lose weight than any other vegetables or fruits. Adding a curd to vegetable salad, in a 'raita' form will make it more palatable towards the evening, when it gets monotonous.

Day 4:

A day when you can eat nothing but eight bananas coupled with three glasses of milk. It is not mandatory to eat 8 bananas; you can have less as well. In fact, you might feel satisfied within 4-5 bananas within the whole day. This is the day when you can clearly feel your food-craving diminishing significantly. It feels divine, to get over your 'desires'. Do not forget to drink at least 10 glasses of water, as always.

Bananas will act as a provider of carbohydrates that is easy to digest, coupled with sodium and potassium reserve.

Day 5:

This is considered as a 'Feast day', where you should eat up to two portions of lean beef (10 oz.) combined with six whole tomatoes - as a source of fiber. On this day, you should increase your daily water intake to at least 14 glasses. This is to cleanse your system of the uric acid getting produced. You will experience colorless urine on this day.

Beef is a source of proteins & iron, and thus an alternative can be paneer (tofu - soya paneer for better results) coupled with mushrooms for the vegetarians. Many people have recommended rice as a replacement to beef, but if one considers the nutritive contents, rice can not be the right surrogate.

Day 6:

Another day with beef and vegetables. Today you can eat any amount of beef combined with cooked or raw vegetables. Keep your daily water intake to 14 glasses. You can add the Soup to add some spice to your day.

Iron and proteins from the beef or paneer-mushroom combination, while fiber and nutrients from the vegetables. Till this time, you must have experienced an energetic feeling and an awareness of the power of natural food items.

Day 7:

The food intake on this day should consist of a bowl of brown rice with fruit juices and any vegetables you want to eat. Drink 14 glasses of water.

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The juices will break the fast (?) providing the essential nutrients along with the vegetable stuffing. The brown rice provides the carbohydrates.

Now you must be at least 4 kgs lighter than day one, yet more energetic and free from the cravings for high-calorie stuff.

The Soup:

The following soup is a modified version of the GM Wonder Soup since it is not possible to get the Lipton Onion soup mix everywhere, as suggested in GM Soup. The modified soup goes parallel to the 'rassam' or 'saaram', served in south India. This soup is allowed to be consumed in large quantities throughout the program. It is intended as a supplement to your diet.

Boil few large-cut onions, tomatoes, cabbage, and celery in water. Add the sambhar masala for the taste. You may also add tomato-puree (but with the skin) instead of tomatoes to make it thicker. One can season it with herbs and flavorings. You may also add: asparagus, peas, corn, cauliflower, green beans or finely chopped mushroom.

General instructions for all days:

You may squeeze a lemon to flavor the water that you drink every day.

No alcohol of any kind since it adds empty calories.

Salt should be used as less as possible.

Use artificial sweetener, in case you can't stay away from the sweet taste.

No fruit juices till day seven.

Black coffee or tea is allowed.

You may repeat the schedule, if you want further weight loss, but it is suggested that you should take a gap of at least two weeks in between two schedules.

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Now the most important part: the doubts, accusations and myths.

"It works just by losing the water content of the body and not actually a fat loss."

a.    Firstly, there is no mention of restricting the water intake on any day. How can one lose only water if we are consuming at least 10-14 glasses of water every day, added with the unlimited quantity of soup and the water contained in the melons, fruits and vegetables?

b.    It basically acts on the principle of 'negative calorie foods' where you are consuming certain foods that demand more calories to burn themselves than what they provide themselves. High-fiber food stuffs you but doesn't provide the required calories, instead demands more calories to burn themselves, which is derived from the stored energy-deposits.

"Skin gets dry and you may lose your hair during and after the GM diet."

a.    At least I have not met anyone in my acquaintance complaining of this, but found this on few blog-posts. The reason can be insufficient amount of water intake and not supplying enough protein sources on specific days.

"It is a temporary loss and you regain all lost weight in couple of weeks."

a.    Obviously, if you resume your high-calorie food once again. It is not difficult to lose weight, but to maintain it. Malvika, my wife who is a dietician, always recommends a maintenance diet program after the GM diet schedule as follows:

i.    Only liquids in the form of soups, buttermilk or fruit juices for dinner on three consecutive days in a week. This should be followed endlessly, until you want your weight to bounce back.

ii.    Drink plenty of water as if you are on GM diet.

iii.    Exercise regularly.

"It's just a Crash-diet and a Fad, nothing else!!"

a.    First of all, it is not promoted as a weight-loss diet, but a Detox diet that cleanses your system from within. Weight loss is just a by-product of it.

b.    Even if one looks at it as a 'crash-diet', it surely will not harm you, but will 'move' your weight in the least period, thus motivating many who tend to leave their regular diet and exercise regimens within first month, for not getting desired results. Once you can 'see' your weight dropping, it boosts your will to try further.

c.    As said above, it is futile unless you back it up with a maintenance program. You can not be on GM diet for lifetime, nor you can or should do it every month. Instead use is as an initial-motivator and switch to a liquid-dinner course later.

MY OWN EXPERIENCE:

I myself have done GM diet twice. The first time I was very sincere in following it. Thanks to my wife and my mother, who made all arrangements for the foods on each day. I lost 4 kgs towards the fifth day. I could not lose any further on the last two days and I presume that to the rice I ate, as a substitute to the beef. The lost weight remained there for a month, in spite of not maintaining it actively. I could have lost at least half a kilo more, if I would have stayed away from the rice, which in any case I do not like to eat.

The next time I started it, but had to leave it in between due to some unavoidable circumstances. But had seen significant change in my weight and the energy level for the four days that I followed it.

The most significant gain has been with my lipids coming down to normal. I have had really bad lipid levels for two years and after following GM diet twice, being on statins and taking self-prescribed homeopathic medicines for the same, the latest levels of lipids were perfectly within normal limits. The credit goes to the high-fiber rich GM diet as well.

THE CONCLUSION:

If followed sincerely, GM diet has a definite positive effect of its own on our metabolism. I agree that it is not an end in itself, and one needs to maintain the metabolism by appropriate food habits and exercise regimen. GM diet can not be a 'quick & easy' substitute to 'efforts', but surely can be a booster for those who have never seen their weight going downhill, providing a 'kick-start'.

As Malvika says, 'one should take a diet that s/he can follow for the lifetime...' and that's true! You can never have GM diet for everyday, since there are so many delicacies around to enjoy, but for that we need to have a balanced metabolism, so that we can give them their due justice.

Realistically, about half the population will admit that they are unhappy with their physique. However, losing weight is not as difficult as many would believe. All it takes is willingness to commit and a little bit of effort on your behalf. Okay, honestly, it takes a great deal of effort and dedication, but it is definitely worth it in the end.

We have a special new diet plan to help you lose weight and slim down in just 7 days! This diet plan is the top vegetarian diet to lose weight safely and effectively!

GM Vegetarian Diet 

This vegetarian version of the GM Diet Plan consists of vegetables, legumes, fruits and limited starches. In order to prep your body for this diet, you should eliminate alcohol during the diet, as well as few days prior to starting the plan. This is important as alcohol retains water as it increase the uric acid level, which then prevents the body from detoxifying naturally.

Another key factor of The GM Vegetarian Diet is to drink up to eight to 10 glasses of water per day. As you will be greatly cutting back on the number of carbohydrates you would normally consume, water will act as your main source of energy during this time. Not only will it speed up your metabolism, but it will help naturally remove those extra, unwanted pounds.

For those who have tried this plan previously, or who plan to continue beyond the initial seven day period, it is recommended that you give your body a break for two to three days prior to resuming the diet. This will give your body time to adjust to the new level of nutritional consumption and help reduce any stress on your system as well.

Day 1:

Warning: the first day is always the hardest so try to resist any temptations! Today you will be partaking of fruits only. With the exception of bananas, litchi, mango and grapes; you can eat any fruits in any quantity you wish. However, the most beneficial fruits include melons, strawberries, lime, pomegranate, apples and oranges. You can have up to 20 servings of fruit only today.

Day 2:

Instead of all fruits, today you are only able to consume solely vegetables. However, you can eat as much as you want. Boiled, steamed, roasted, and raw... anything but fried or battered! You should begin your second day with a baked or boiled potato with a just a teaspoon of butter. This will provide your body with the proper amount of carbohydrates and energy required for the day. However, after this, you can only consume veggies.

Limit yourself to only one potato today. If you want to add some zest to your meals, simply add a pinch of basil or oregano. Day 2 is basically a calorie-free day, however, it is chock full of essential vitamins, nutrients and plenty of fiber! If you can survive Day 2, you definitely have what it takes to stick to this diet!

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[smallnico]

i'm upset because i can't even enjoy looking at pretty girls without feeling bad about myself because i don't look like her. i can't enjoy my attraction girls without feeling like i have to be as pretty as they are. i know i shouldn't feel that way but i do.

aw, anon. if it helps, a lot of people feel that way -- like there’s a right way to be pretty, lots of right ways even, but that you still somehow don’t meet any of the qualifications of “prettiness”, be they society-defined or self-defined.

the best advice i can offer is to train yourself to stop associating certain features or looks with prettiness. like, of course you’re still gonna look at stuff and see that it is beautiful, and recognizing beauty is good, but try thinking about it a different way: when you see something you like about someone, aesthetically or in terms of personality, try thinking “hey, i really like her nose” or “i really like her eyebrows” or eyes, mouth, hair, style, smile, ears, cheeks, jaw, body, whatever. don’t think of it like “wow she’s pretty”, think about the different things that make her pretty, and be honest with yourself about it. think about all the things in different people that you like, and why you like them, rather than just thinking about it in terms of pretty or not pretty. 

e.g. “that girl is really pretty”, vs. “i really like the way she did her hair today, i appreciate the effort that must’ve gone into it, it’s really paying off”, “her smile makes me happy, it’s so genuine and kind”, etc.

then the next step in the breaking down of looking at people’s individual features more positively is filtering out any sort of criticism or judgment that arises in your head when you break their whole scene down into parts. like if you think something like “she’d be so pretty, but...” just be like Nah. you’re not a bad person for thinking critical thoughts about others, but you should do your best to convince yourself not to do it while it happens.

you’ll find in your exploration that lots of different things about a person can be liked, loved, appreciated, even celebrated. maybe the shape of your face doesn’t match the shape of this girl’s, but her face doesn’t match the shape of this other girl’s face either, and you still think they’re both pretty. this other girl you found pretty didn’t have an outstanding face shape either, but there were still things about her that made her stand out to you. there are things about your own face, your own look, that you can appreciate, too. nobody has to look the same as another beautiful person to also be beautiful.

plus, in making an effort to change the way you think about unremarkable features in other people -- i.e. just focusing on the things you do like and encouraging yourself against judging them for their appearance -- you’ll find it easier to forgive your own perceived flaws as well. take me, for example: i am covered in acne scars and i always look tired or annoyed by default, i wish i were taller and i wish i were more muscular, i wish i didn’t have to write all over my hands and arms to remember things, i wish my hair weren’t so flat and bowlcut-shaped no matter what i do to it... like, once you start going on about things you consider to be flawed, more things always pop up. you could go on forever. it’s the same thing about people you dislike, or shows you dislike: even when they do something right it’s seen as disappointing because everything that’s flawed about it just ruins the whole thing. so training yourself to be more forgiving of flaws is essential. focus on the stuff you like! don’t let yourself get drawn into that spiral of judgment. most of the time i look at myself in the mirror and think “hey look it me” -- you don’t always have to be complimenting yourself, after all -- but i can appreciate when i look cute. i like the outfit i’m wearing today, i woke up and my hair was fluffy, i like my eyebrows, i can wear cute heels, i can even forgive the acne scars, because dang i have such a cute smile. some stuff you can change -- clothes, hair, makeup -- but there’s lots about you that you don’t have to change, and other stuff that really, you can just forgive.

you too can be pretty, anon! it’s all just a question of saying to yourself, “fuck it”, and actively looking for the positives in stuff, learning to compliment yourself just like you would someone else.

i hope this could help somewhat! and i hope you’re having a good day, all things considered. you deserve it!

[cosmeticsurgeryfrance]

What is Liposuction and can it assist me.

Liposuction in France Costs Less than in the UK

If you are one of the many thousands of people contemplating to have liposuction this year then you will have more than very likely failed to get rid of unwelcome and body fat even after following the strictest diet plans or the many exercising regimes that are promoted around the World today. You will be joining one the many people in the World who just can’t get to grips with getting rid of that stubborn excess fat or tackle an uneven torso body form. Dependent on the areas and the quantity of excess body body fat to be taken off, liposculpture as it is sometimes known as, can assist to even out your physique proportions or slim a specific location of the human body. Normal modifications to our entire body and fat burning capacity get their toll on your physique, everyone’s stomach or stomach is various in dimension and shape, and particularly for females pregnancies will inevitably consider its toll on our stomach area. What is accepted as a “normal” belly is motivated by what we all see on television, in publications, in artwork, and in promoting media. Our Plastic Surgeon Dr Louay-El-Ayoubi is a Expert Beauty Surgeon with many Many years knowledge in Liposuction and many other varieties of beauty and reconstructive surgical procedure.

Why wait for the NHS when you can now speed up the process with Plastic Surgeon France, and what’s more we offer affordable Plastic Surgeon cost in France for many more patients living in the UK and Ireland. It is now possible to have your cosmetic surgery with our plastic surgeon within one week of contacting us, and what’s more, the cost saving can be £££££’s when compared to the same cost in private clinics in Great Britain.

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Gastric band Surgery

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Here is an update from a channel we found watch, listen and enjoy as you learn all about a typical face lift/ liposuction. Today I'm doing a very requested video that I have been waiting to do it for quite a while because I was waiting for my jawline to be fully healed from my laser lipo ok so a ton of people wanted me to do this video I'm kind of talking all about it my results I'm healing I am pretty much almost healed now I have to wear my head wrap for approximately two or three more weeks but out of three months so pretty much all my swelling is gone I'm the surgery I was amazing and it was just a really great experience that I wanted to do for so long if you watched my my secret video it was the big secret that i wanted to talk about it was doing this and I won't lie like a lot of you guys her supportive but a lot of people were upset with me about it I am very body positive on my channel here and I talked a lot about loving yourself and you know being happy with your body and who you are but I also think it's really important that if you want to change something you're more than welcome to change it because it's your body is your life do what you want to do with it. I am really really happy with my body I've lost a lot of weight over the years and I'm still plus size i'm still 14 or 16 and it was just I couldn't lose weight in my face and I have it's something that I could just never really lose it's totally okay to have a fuller face and it's totally there's nothing wrong with having a quote unquote double shit like I don't know what what the proper polite term for that is I don't really like calling it a double chin it just sounds kinda I don't know that sounds kind of rude but I'm there's nothing wrong with having that like it just it was my own personal thing that I wanted to change about myself and I wanted to change for so long and I'm comfortable with my body and I didn't know how to just lose weight in my face even have one of those things that like that neck exerciser, trust me i did that religiously and I still couldn't lose weight on my face. The older I get and the more I learned about myself it I've really come to the conclusion that you have to do what makes you happy as a person you can't worried about other people's thoughts you kind of have to just do what is right for you and what makes you happy and content I just I don't want to encourage you guys to go and get laser lipo if it's you know if it's not something that you should be doing. I lost weight the old-fashioned way with diet and exercise and I learned portion control is exercised and all of that but it's like I said, it's just it was really hard for me to lose weight in this area and it was just something I was really self-conscious about i mean i'm going to be real here i'm a you tuber i constantly filming myself i watch myself and you know even even four years before that I always remember just not being comfortable with that part of my body and I tried on offense a lot of things that neck exercises. I don't know where it is i know i still have it somewhere but like even my family knew that that was just like my biggest struggle on something I was very uncomfortable with I looked into sono bello is where I went you guys probably seen commercials for you before it's just a laser lipo center which is the 1i think it's in woburn I'm from Massachusetts so i went there i had a consultation not really sure what to expect from it I kind of just went in willy nilly kind of just like on so it's like I'm i want to finally do this i want to just look into it and i went i really like the facility i love with the woman that I spoke with a textbook to jen and I I was just I was I was kind of sold on it like it's only because like it was an invasive it wasn't a big deal she explained to me perfectly she kinda showed me how it would look how my jaw line would look she told me the price she explained to me how it would be done it's very non-invasive it's gonna be quick blah blah and i was like i'm totally down like she's like you want to look at next week I'm like okay I was honestly I was just extremely throw because it's something I've been wanting to do for so long so I'm just kind of give you a rundown on what laser lipo is so the thing about laser lipo I didn't really know much about it i know i keep touching my hair I'm so sorry it's like it's in my in my face with the so essentially laser light ball is super non-invasive you're actually not asleep for the procedure I think I have to say haha ok uh-huh so it's super amazing you're actually a week for it so you go in. I had my pre-op of about a week before and I just checked me out filling prescriptions and i met my surgeon and we talked about everything that was going to be happening so i would be super comfortable because you are awake for is you're going to want to know what's going on they give you a prescription to be filled they give you an anti-anxiety so you can kind of relax I I was a little stressed about it and I'm alive and they give you pain medication and for a few weeks before that or maybe a week before and a lot afterwards you take a little dissolving tablets under your tongue that help with bruising so you bruise a lot less I hardly brews at all during this I was really excited about it because i bruise like a peach normally hardly brews at all it was called arnica so I was like these little dissolving min so you have to take three times a day so i used those before and after my surgery. I went on my surgery date the facility is extremely nice extremely professional i had amazing nurses who are so calming and helpful you just do your typical pre-surgery kind of things you don't need an IV or anything like that you're just you go into the procedure room I you know it's very if feel surgical but like you're awake and you don't have to have an IV or anything you have an IV but they don't use it unless it's like an emergency they just have it ready if they need to use it first they did two incisions under my ear and then one right under my chin the first thing that they do is numb you with that honestly that's the the worst part is just that pitch that was the worst part of the whole thing and it honestly you just felt like getting my cartilage pierced my ear just one two three and it starts to numb you they then feel you i know is i don't want it if you creeped out by graphic part that's just me discussing the process here it was super super easy and I'm a wicked squeamish person so it's not that bad so they just they fill this part up with liquid and you're laying down they put on what ever pandora station i wanted got some taylor swift action towing I was very calm a chat with you throughout the process to keep you chill because that's my biggest fear. I've learned that with my body I'm about uncomfortable and I'm and maintain my size now cuz i'm comfortable where I'm at and i used to be i used to be someone who gained weight really easily but I'm you know I'm in a good place with my body and I'm really good at maintaining my weight so it is gone and the thing about fat cells is once the fastest are gone fat cells don't just regrow so actually it is gone forever but as I just want to like clear that up about by sucking out zapping the fat cells and taking them out the fat cells do not come back to that area I will gain if I gain weight it will be in other places not here so i just wanted to clarify that at least that's what i was told and that's what I research the crap out of first it so that is exactly how it goes the process probably took a total of like 45 minutes um you could feel honestly it just felt good hydrating toothbrush underneath my chin it was just like buzz ding everywhere it was not painful honestly it kind of felt like a massage it was not painful hell it's very calming so after that I put on a really tight compression head wrap that I had to wear for 10 days what you guys saw all over my blogs and snapchat Instagram i'm sure i was mr. blows along 10 days where you just had this really tight compression band on your head you could not do much and i drained for maybe the first day and then after that I healed up really really nicely really quickly. I'm I feel completely comfortable and happy with where I'm at now and it's just something I've always wanted to do i I don't want to encourage other people to go and get this done because there's nothing wrong with you you're not broken there's nothing to be fixed this is just me myself my own personal journey and i'm doing this video purely for those who are interested in laser lipo and my sono bello experience and want to know more about it but i would have to say that facility was amazing and if if it's something that you always want to do you know i would recommend going there but genuinely really think about it first any big decision you make like this is like permanent and it's important and it's very very very very important that you do it for you and you've wanted for a long time I've been thinking about this most of my life it's one thing about me it's always bothered me I don't care about my thunder thighs my old stretch marks on my belly it's it's just this that's always bothered me and it's something I've always wanted to do and please know it took a lot a lot of guts for me to put this on youtube and I always kept it a secret and I didn't want to keep it a secret sounds like you know I'm honest on youtube I put my heart and soul and my life out