#it's so surreal to realize I've been working on it for so long

[velvetures]

Got Me Snoring pt.2

A/N: I'm so sorry it took so long... I've been doubting doing a part two simply because the first blew up like... crazy... and I'm afraid this one isn't going to measure up to the first. But THANK YOU to everyone for the love on part one... it's wild how much you all liked it. I appreciate all of you thirsty fuckers. Summary: Ghost is set on giving you the same change of perception on reviving head after figuring out just how bad you are at taking care of yourself. T/W: NS/FW 18+ ONLY, cunnilingus, size kink if you squint, spit?, lots of fem! fluids, a little male fluids..., cursing, aggressive tension?, taunting, not proofread, and I'm still terrified this is gonna suck.

You woke up with a sore throat.

No doubt or haze in your mind about how it happened or why. And the only thing you could think was the word big…. big… big…

God, Ghost was so fucking huge. You nearly mistook the images in your mind for a dream. One so goddamn filthy you’d not be able to look him in the eyes. Only one of those big hands was sprawled over your belly. Fingers digging possessively into the little bit of pudge under them. Denting your skin and steadily reminding you of the rest of his body melted against the back of yours. You’d not moved an inch all night. Highly unusual on a normal day, but not with your Lieutenant sharing the bed.

Sharing a seat on the plane home wasn’t familiar either.

He felt inhumanly warm with his arm rubbing yours as the jet stream rocked the cabin of the plane. And the looks shared between the others as they watched the pair of you didn’t make your skin feel any cooler. Gaz staring at the spot where Ghost’s thigh rested against yours nearly made your pants singe. You couldn’t believe Ghost was just sitting there with his head leaning back against the wall. Maybe sleeping… he wasn’t really moving much. But you couldn’t tell. Nor possess enough confidence to look up or nudge him and find out.

Your sore throat ached a bit too. Raw, and making your voice scratchy, it’d been hard to give a solid ‘good morning’ without everyone asking if you’d come down with something. Your only thought was how Ghost came down something… and you had swallowed. A thought that felt good to hear in your own head… at least when Captain Price wasn’t looking at you with sharp, observant eyes.

Surprisingly, Ghost wasn’t the one who made you feel anxious. He’d been… different in leading up to the flight home. Having your bag packed before you’d noticed, getting you up before the others…. ‘Answer their questions later, little one.’ he’d whispered, masked mouth heating up your ear as he murmured so closely to it. Thoughtful… you’d decided. Realizing only after he’d solved the problem that waking up in bed with him would’ve caused a stir amongst the boys. He even made you tea… the way you like it; With some thick honey at the bottom. No doubt for your rasping voice.

No. Ghost was different.

No one had the gall to mention the Lieutenant strangely shadowing you though. Like you’d suddenly gained a massive black phantom tagging alone at your heels. On missions he would linger close by without anyone noticing, but that just felt… professional. Watching his wide shoulders slump towards yours while sitting on a shitty, makeshift, bench in a cargo plane? That was a whole different look. Even Price spent a good half hour chewing on an unlit cigar, trying to work out what you two had talked about the night before for Ghost to act like this. It was clear though. None of them suspected anything close to what actually happened.

Sitting next to him felt surreal. Especially when he’d been the one who silently insisted that you sit next to him. Having snatched you by your belt and tugged you onto the bench beside him instead of letting you find somewhere mushed between Gaz and Soap like normal. A low grunt of a sound and a firm nod pointed in your direction once he got a look at you sitting next to him much more shyly than normal.

You could smell his cologne, and memorize the tattoos peeking out close to his wrist. Feel his leg twitch to steady himself in his seat when the plane shook a bit. Even listen to the sound of his steady breathing. A whole new experience you’d not really thought about trying before. You nearly felt like you were learning Ghost all over again. Taking every small movement and reexamining it. Because… you couldn’t deny that he had readjusted his view of you.

A blowjob shouldn’t have felt that… intimate, you thought. Remembering the undeniably filthy things Ghost had said. It should’ve left you fulfilled… but not like you actually were. Some warm, expanding feeling, filling up your chest and making you want to hide your face and giggle. A grade school crush level of nervous energy you’d never felt towards a man before. Yet here you were, sitting there half-dumbstruck, watching your Lieutenant stretch his long legs and sigh softly as the landing gear rolled to a stop on the tarmac.

“Comin’?” He muttered, voice level. Maybe a bit impatient as those dark eyes settled on you.

Normal… you reminded yourself. He wasn’t talking you differently; No need to over analyze everything. Letting him lead was the smartest thing. The only way, really.

“Yeah,” Your voice makes you hesitate to say anything more. “Just got stuck staring…”

Ghost doesn’t show any real reaction. Just nods, and grabs his rucksack off the floor next to him. Wordlessly taking yours along in the same hand, walking off with -essentially- everything you had. Suddenly motivating you to not only move your ass off the plane, but follow his long strides to wherever it was he was possessed to go. And whether or not the others even noticed, you didn’t have the luxury of worrying about.

The Lieutenant had your weapons… and your only clean pair of pants.

You didn’t have to follow him far though. Only walking a few meters past your own quarters and down a hallway. Staring at the wide gap between his shoulder blades and the heavy sway that rocked the belt clipped around his hips.

He had your bag tossed next to his on a desktop inside his room without a single trace of the fact it wasn’t a habit. Sitting down heavily and reaching over stiffly to tug at the laces of his boots. Toeing them off with small squeaks of new leather and sitting them under the desk. Either purposefully staying silent to listen to your brain working, or totally unaware that you were stupidly standing there, watching your Lieutenant do a decidedly human thing with wide eyes.

“Come’ere…”

Ghost took off your boots just as simply as his own. Quiet, leaned over your foot propped up on his thigh and not even mentioning your hand resting on his shoulder to steady yourself. Feeling him tug the blouse out of your pant legs, and gently squeeze at your ankle to hold your foot steady.

You didn’t know how to feel about it.

Mortified… maybe. For the simple fact that you had worn the same socks for two days and his head was too close for comfort. Touching you. At least, touching you in a way that wasn’t meant for sex. It didn’t feel like you were doing enough. Weren’t providing him anything.

Guilty… yes? This wasn’t something normal in any situation. You hated a return. It’s what made you feel like you were causing a problem. Made laying low and staying quiet a habitual behavior. And Ghost being the one bent over and struggling to undo the tight knots in your laces? Nearly unacceptable. He didn’t need to… shouldn’t lower himself like that.

Ghost noticed it and you tried to beat him to the punch.

“You don’t have to-”

“Look like you’re gonna faint.”

That hand squeezing softly on your ankle tightens a little before releasing, gliding up your calf and patting you softly before guiding it off his leg. Those dark eyes look up and down your clothes, over your decidedly nervous expression, and back down to your boots before sitting them right next to his.

“Don’t tell me…” he mutters, leaning back in his chair, hands resting on his hips. “You’re not a fan of receiving… are you?”

~

The next two days, you leaned quickly that what was his, suddenly had made room to account for you as well. Almost instantaneously you’d been accounted for in just about every single way you could think of. You washed laundry… you found it put away in one of his drawers. You ordered food to base… it was in his room, not yours. Tried to get into your old quarters… the key wouldn’t open it anymore.

How he’d managed it, you didn’t even want to know. But, Ghost effortlessly took into account every single thing necessary to move you into his life without even a single question. And managed to do it perfectly. You couldn’t question it either, since he’d accomplished the endless tasks to such a degree of attention that you weren’t sure a man could even reach.

“Um, have you seen my black jeans?” The question felt a bit odd, and so did standing in the doorframe of his bathroom with a towel wrapped around you.

“Top drawer. In the closet, next to my pants.”

You couldn’t quite adjust this easily. Not that it wasn’t what you wanted per se. You’d enjoyed Ghost’s company more than anyone else the past couple days. And while he’d been accommodating, it wasn’t like he was bowing to your feet. He came and go as he wanted and didn’t crowd you like he was clingy either. However he did make you feel uneasy with how little he made a fuss about doing something for you.

You never asked for him to do anything. Yet he managed to do everything you ‘hadn’t gotten around to’. And worst of all, when it was time to sleep, he wouldn’t lay down until you eventually caved in and crawled under the blankets first. Almost like he was letting you get settled exactly how you wanted before even thinking about moving closer. No sex. No outward attempt at it. Not even a subliminal hint that he wanted more of your mouth, or anything else for that matter.

It nearly broke you. Or, better spoken, broke your perception of how you expected him to act. Which, made sense considering Ghost wasn’t anything close to the men you’d been with previously. They were always pushy… and he didn’t even push you to your side of the bed when you unconsciously wormed your way to his side at night. Your exes treated sex like a favor needing to be owed. And Ghost wouldn’t begin to act like he’d ever thought about the possibility despite having fucked your throat like he owned it.

Your jeans were indeed in the drawer next to his. And he did ask you to grab a pair of his as you retrieved yours, adding on that you’d be leaving in fifteen minutes… unless you needed more time to get ready.

You finished up in less than ten.

A bar on a Saturday night was Soap’s idea. Drinks, a few cigars, and the whole task force was his way of ‘team bonding’ and no one had a good enough excuse to deny him. Especially when there was a new mission lingering in the next couple weeks, and Price already had the files on hand. You thought it was a bit cliché. Sitting in a musty bar, listening to Price talk over the music about terrain, entry points, possible back-up, and the preemptive teams he was putting together.

It seemed his mind had been working just as hard as yours over the past days. Only you were preoccupied with Ghost’s hand firmly kneading at your thigh under the table. His thumb working at a sore spot just up and to the right of your knee. Forefinger squeezing to alternate the pressure and resist from making the movements feel too harsh. Looking far too relaxed while scanning a document and flipping through the pages with his free hand.

You’d resisted for hours at this point. Forcing yourself to stay quiet and not say something about it. Reminding yourself he was just doing it because he wanted to. Not because he thought he’d get something out of it. He wasn’t holding out. Every time his skilled fingers found another sore spot that made you twitch, you needed to physically clamp your mouth shut or take a drink so you didn’t tell him to stop.

“Another round?” Gaz held up a few bills in his hand, looking around the table.

When everyone agreed, you lost the willpower to sit still. Straightening up and trying to scoot towards the edge of your seat.

“I’ll go up since you’re paying.” The rush in your voice was lost on everyone. Everyone but the man who suddenly locked down with a vice grip on your leg.

Ghost didn’t even flinch. Still looking at the file in his hand, but that cold grip on you didn’t hesitate. Gluing you to your seat and enhancing the sudden sensation of his fingertips dipping under the ripped material stretching over your thigh. You couldn’t understand it. Dumbly trying a second time to stand up, only for it to earn you a side-eyed glance and a slight pinch to your exposed skin.

“No.” he muttered, chin jutting out in the direction of the man, already heading towards the table after seeing Gaz pull out cash .“The waiter’s comin’.”

And right on cue, a younger guy walked up and began taking orders. Going around the table, and stopping at Ghost was a very familiar kind of apprehension on his face after seeing that black mask stretched over his face. If only he could see under the table at the way your thigh was shaking from the soft touches.

“Nothin’ for us,” Such a cool dismissal of the guy that you hardly even notice what he said. “Price, leavin’ out.” He added, moving his hand to palm the back of your neck easily. Giving the slightest tug to get you up out of your seat as well.

“Little one’s comin’ with me.”

Not a soul at the table questions it.

~

Against the wall yet again.

Not unlike the first time… Ghost has a pattern. You’re breathless, but much more unaware of how this situation is going to play out. He hadn’t said a word in the drive, and kept the tightest sightline out the windshield you couldn’t even see his irises from your profile view in the passenger seat. The second he could spot the door to his room? His big body bullied yours right where he wanted it. Keeping you pacified by a hand over your mouth and dark, plotting eyes glaring down.

“Why’d you do that?” His question further raised the questions in your head. It’s all you can do to shrug, as if you had much autonomy over the rest of your body at this point anyways.

“At the bar,” The clarification deepens his irritated tone. “Why’d you take orders like that, huh? Like some fuckin’ maid.”

“You all wanted drinks.”

Unfortunately it’s not the answer he wanted, and you’re hauled that much further up the wall. Only now, you’re suspended fully off the ground. Balanced on his forearm jammed between your thighs; feeling his palm flat against the wall. God, it felt fucking ridiculous. He shouldn’t been able to do it, but he wasn’t even shaking. Dead calm and just watching you unintentionally grind down more on his arm the longer you’re forced to stay like that.

“I got my own.”

You nearly catch an attitude. Wanting to mention that it’s just ‘polite’. And for that matter, you’d not paired for a single drink all night. So, naturally it was only fair you go get them… You settle on saying something a bit more safe. Maybe more manageable even with how little your mouth wants to function.

“I didn’t pay.”

Ghost just snarls, head tilted and looming closer.

“I don’t fuckin’ care,” His hips flinch forwards, jamming against you to send the point home. And you’re not stupid enough to ignore that he’s hard. The long, thick line of his cock disappearing under the edge of his belt; tucked safely to have been able to escape the bar without anyone throwing looks his way.

“Stop doin’ shit just because.” He growls out a bit more directly. “Do it because you want it.”

His point skims over your understanding. “I do what I want!”

“Sure, sweetheart.” The dismissal is soft enough you know he’s not totally pissed.

“When’s the last time you made yourself feel good, huh?” He pauses, giving you a glimpse of his tongue licking his lips under that mask. “I think I remember you sayin’ you’ve faked it plenty of times… How many times is that? How many times you ignored that pussy cryin’ for attention?”

You get it. Oh, you finally understand… And damn it your face doesn’t burn hot with the realization that he’d caught on to just how bad you were about prioritizing yourself. Not even the dull, thudding pressure of your cunt sitting directly in his muscled forearm is enough to distract you from it. The mind game over, and Ghost holding yet another victory in his hand.

“I.. I don’t know,” You look away, unwilling to admit it. “A few times.”

“Bullshit,” He grunts, jerking his lower body against yours yet again. “You might not know that… but you do know how many men… don’t ya, sweetheart?”

Chest caving in defeat, you answer. “Five.”

Ghost’s chuckle is almost patronizing. A deep, rumbling one low in his chest that makes chills run up your back. Purposefully his wrist rotates a bit and your clit rolls over a thick muscle. You’re helpless to hide the pinched yelp it earns him, and it only makes him chuckle for longer. If you’d been in any other position, it would’ve been music to your ears. Now it just felt… punishing. Arousing beyond belief, yes, but still a bit of a sting to your pride.

“Five boys…” He muses aloud. “Not a fuckin’ one with enough sense to breathe without thinkin’.”

He stills for a moment, eyebrows furrowing over dark brown eyes. A debate in his head.

“Then i’ll teach you…” He nods once. Firm and resolved to the decision. His free hand coming up to trace your jawline with a reverent, almost scared touch. “Now that you’re mine… I’ll teach you how to be selfish.”

“S’not like I don’t know how.” It’s a wonder you’re able to sound that confident between the pressure to your cunt and the way he’s talking to you. Unflinching as always, he just smirks under that mask.

“Gonna show you how easy it is… to take pleasure. How to enjoy it.” Each word falls from his lips like thick honey. Whatever he’s planning so fucking rich in his kind that even his mouth slows and his accent thickens at the mere imagination of it. “You’re gonna learn to be good for me… and M’gonna start with that little pussy…”

One dangerous look down at where your thighs are trying to clench together freezes you.

“Not gonna let her be ignored anymore…”

~

Ghost’s tongue curls through your swollen, sensitive, lips; helping guide himself to your pulsing clit. Humming victoriously when your stomach flexes and your body jerks away from the steady pressure. Each lick is the same. Dragging up your slit and purposely spitting against your hole until you both can feel it dripping between your cheeks. Taking his time like this was almost painful. Feeling the twitch of his jaw against your inner thighs and hearing his thick swallows as he drank down your arousal.

It almost made you feel queasy, being the sole focus of this. Your hands unable to find somewhere to rest. Feet unwilling to settle on his back or off to the sides, like you knew you probably should be. Ghost was so intense that you shook. Muscles tremoring around his head and exciting him that much more. You were still stiff though, and it showed. Much to his excitement, it meant that he’d have that much more time between your legs. More opportunities to take you out of your head and throw you into a totally new one.

“It ain’t my mouth makin’ you shake, little one.” He murmurs, almost like he’s talking to your cunt instead. It’s hard to reply when those dark brown eyes lay locked on you from between your slicked thighs.

“I… I don’t know…”

Ghost just chuckles, kissing your inner thigh. Both hands slipping between your legs and using his thumbs to spread you open for him. Heavy eyes looking at your glistening hole covered in his saliva. Spitting on you yet again, and letting out a deep, satisfied sigh when your breath evaporates from the sheer sight of it.

“M’gonna make you feel everythin’ they couldn’t,” your eyes nearly roll back in your skull when he blows a soft, cool, breath over your hot skin. “You’ll memorize what my tongue feels like in your cunt… never gonna come empty again…”

You clench when those words come out more like a threat than a promise. Having heard that tone so many times sitting in on his interrogations. Always relating it to pure torture and the promise of wishing for death over being rested in Ghost’s hands. Only now it was startling just how badly you wanted to hear him speak like that again. Never having heard anyone sound so fucking serious about sex, or find yourself reacting so desperately. Your eyes scrunching shut and your head falling back against the bed, nearly pained with anticipation and a healthy dose of the most fearful arousal you’d mustered.

“Ghost - please, please… just, god take it easy on me.” Your voice is soft, pleading. Actually a bit timid of how far he planned on taking this. Of course he wouldn’t hurt you. You trusted him that much. But pleasure could be just as effective of torture, and Ghost was well-versed.

Another kiss presses to your thigh, “Nothin’ without your permission,” Those dark eyes gain crinkled lines at the corners though as he smiles. “But you’ll like it, little one. Every disgustin’ thing m’gonna do to make this pussy cream…”

His thumb glides over your outer lips, toying with you. Gentle to avoid sensitive spots and draw this out, but mean enough to remind you just how dedicated he was.

“Yeah, baby… you’re gonna look so good when I lick the fuckin’ come out of you.”

His mouth descends over you without another moment of hesitation. Still slow, but now it’s not just his tongue lapping at you. It’s his lips, rough with a couple days neglected of shaving. His teeth -which make you jump at first- pinching and nipping. But it’s all in the perfect pressure. Somehow fully aware of how sensitive you are right now and that the slightest move could be far too much. Reversing your twitches of apprehension into soft rolls of your hips against his face. Allowing you to guide him without a word. Learning how you want it whether or not you ever realized that it was guiding him better than a map.

You loved the slow, consistent pressure around your clit. Not rubbing right over it like he was sure you’d been subjected to before. No… you needed it softer. Sweeter. Just how a pretty girl like you deserved. Circles with a flattened tongue and his fingers working inside you. Even then, you got so fucking tight when he didn’t pull his fingers out all the way. Instead letting you milk them as the pads of his fingers curled against that textured, upper wall needing attention.

God, it was so easy. You had such beautifully clear reactions. What felt good, you’d nearly hold still for. As if you’d never felt it before and couldn’t withhold from the desperate curiosity. And when it didn’t, such polite grinds and roll of your hips would be almost too helpful in moving the bridge of his nose or his tongue to where you wanted it.

Ghost couldn’t remember the last time he ate pussy with such rapt attention. Enjoy it had always been easy. The taste, the sounds, feeling in control… any man in his right mind would relish in it. But you? You made his hard cock brushing up against the mattress fall to a true afterthought. He didn’t even care that there was enough precum drooling from his tip to soak through denim jeans.

Your first orgasm is a beautiful accident. Ghost’s body isn’t even what earns it. It’s his fucking mouth saying the nastiest things imaginable with a busy tongue stroking your clit. Rambling low and sluggishly, a thick lisp when his bottom lip tries to slide across your pussy on the right syllables.

Good job, tha’s it… s’good for me.

Keep fuckin’ drippin’ like that.

Stay right there -just like that- let me lick her clean baby…

You come quick and hard. Not even getting to relish in the feeling of release that wasn’t by your own hand before Ghost is working for another. It’s the most impatient habit he’s got and won’t deviate. Using the clench of your pussy around him to advantage by working you open all over again. Purposefully providing that “first touch” stretch throughout orgasms like a reset. Short term memory erasure of all his hard work just to massage at your shaking legs as gentle reassurance.

“Don’t — Don’t stop.” Your panting. Wanting to warn him as the second approaches a bit slower.

You’re still nervous to perform, but the edge is off. Having been given just enough reassurance that you can, in fact, come from someone else’s touch. But the slight tremor in your voice hints at the hesitation you have to come again.

Enough time elapsed to overthink what you sound like. How you appear from this angle and anything in between that has been a problem before now. Ghost doesn’t move an inch. The only thing he does is take a steady deep breath and move one arm to rest his forearm on the bed. Like he’s settling in.

Getting fucking comfortable.

And he stays just like that until you’re shoving yourself up the bed and away from his chasing mouth to try and take at least one complete breath. Your feet sliding in the sheets and the hair on the back of your neck getting cold once it’s not matted to the pillow. Previous experience anticipates that it’s the end. That Ghost isn’t going to follow. That he’ll take the credit for making you come twice, and enjoy a fluttering, wet cunt around his cock.

His face is next to yours and his swollen lips are kissing your temple over and over sweetly. One hand keeps his heavy weight off of you while the other gently reaches to your neck. Holding your head to ease the acute angle of it and shyly feel your pulse. You’re too dazed to see the look on his face. How relaxed he is, counting your heart beats and watching sweat slide across your temple and get caught in the baby hairs there. Observant, but utterly obsessed by this moment. Drinking in self-satisfaction and the much more addictive taste of seeing you fall apart under him.

“I got you. I’m here, breathe baby.” Keeping his chest close, he exaggerates his own. Pressing against you, grounding the feeling.

“It’s so much.” Admitting it makes you feel awful. Like you’re not enjoying it more than anything you’ve felt before. But you’re unable to explain just how raw your nerves feel. Terrified that if he touches your clit again it would bring real tears to your eyes.

Ghost moves closer, sharing body heat you didn’t know you even wanted. “I know, little one… you’re so sensitive. S’okay.” He answers, gently reaching down to pull both your thighs together and against him.

Curling you to his body and holding your legs to help ease the radiating pleasure signals thrumming in your pussy. His hand rubbing your outer thigh, squeezing at the stretched muscles in your hip. Dissipating the tightly-wound lower half of your body that is still expecting his fingers to touch you again. Split between wishing he would force another orgasm out of you and nearly passing out from overstimulation.

Ghost knows better though. You’d gone too long without someone else controlling your pleasure that it was going to be hard enough. And a second only compounded your body’s response. In the moment he felt possessed to prove a point. Really, the same one you had for him. But the moment you scurried back, that part of his brain turned off. Keeping you safe in this state was just as important as anything else. He didn’t want you faking anything again. That included when you felt like you couldn’t take more.

“We’re done, baby…” he kisses your cheek, tasting the sting of salt on his lips. “No more; jus’ easy touches… M’not gonna play anymore.”

It works wonders, simply taking the guesswork out of this. Allowing your legs to fully sag against him, trusting those fingers grazing up and down. Even your head letting go of the remaining tension holding you off the pillow. Ghost can’t help but smile. Kissing you yet again. And again. Helping himself to the sounds of your breaths evening out and the softness of your dewy skin on his mouth.

His hot body sticks to yours a bit, but it’s comfortable. Helps you feel secure, laying there balled up and trying to work through the multiple sensations still making it nearly impossible to open you eyes and look at him. Desiring to say a simple ‘thank you’ or at least, give him a smile just to show that you’re appreciative. Another one of those nasty little things you’re convinced is necessary right after the deed. Poised to give positive reinforcement at the first moment so the guy won’t run off.

“Th-thank you,” The way you say it almost sounds guilty to Ghost. Even the hand rubbing you doubles down, more firmly. Like he’s hoping to keep his own emotions in check by reminding himself of how skewed your perceptions are.

“S’not a ‘thank you’,” He replies, lips against your ear, feeling the easy, toothless, smile he’s got. “Told you the other day… I wanted it. Wanted you.”

Your eyes do open then. Hearing him refer back to the mission. Like he’s not the least bit affected by it in an embarrassed kind of way. Adding that much more reinforcement to the nearly unbelievable idea that he’s actually meant it and not just so he could get a bit closer to you. Surely he couldn’t, right?

“You mean that?”

Ghost’s eyes brighten, and he chuckles very deeply. Bumping his forehead against yours.

“You and your sweet pussy aren’t going anywhere.”

requests are thanks to: bvxygriimes bobochacha kmcmpmd simonsslvt verynastyspoon featherbrainedangel flower-olive riri-is-a-girlie bii-aan-ckaa mxshpitmom stormy-knight134 glocuseguardian3rd variety-fangirl and about eight anons that I can't tag unfortunately :(

you're all so lovely and I want to give you each a big smooch

reblogs and comments are always appreciated <3

my ask box is always open, but fair warning I'm slow haha

[apathetic-revenant]

uh...hi?

[head pokes around corner]

so...

I've been back to scrolling around on tumblr for a bit now, and have been really wanting to get back to actually, y'know. being here. posting. not just sort of hanging here invisibly like a mournful ghost, observing but never interacting. that sort of thing. (revenants, after all, are supposed to be corporeal undead.)

but I really wanted to explain why I just kind of abruptly vanished in the first place. no one demanded this of me, but it felt like something I had to do. and then, in the typical way of self-imposed obstacles, it became a massive stumbling block. partly because of the nerves and emotions attached to it, sure, but mostly, tbh, because it was a Task. I recently (about 3 weeks ago now?) started seeing a new psychiatrist and got an adjustment to my ADHD meds which basically made my brain boot up again for the first time in way too long. this is great! but it means I am having to kind of slowly rehab my brain into getting used to doing Literally Anything again, one small step at a time. I am not being hyperbolic when I say I had to gradually build up my executive functioning for a while just to be able to write a tumblr post.

but fuck it! I really wanted to just do this already. so, while I'm sure I'll talk about all this in more detail later, for right now I'm gonna strip this down to the bare essentials just so I can get it done at all.

here's what happened:

in 2020 I had a sudden onset of extremely severe OCD.

no, not about the pandemic, actually. yeah I was anxious about the pandemic but it was a pretty normal level of anxiety for a global pandemic, honestly. my OCD took the form of scrupulosity--essentially, an obsessive worry about being a bad person.

tumblr is....not a GREAT place to be if you have a sudden obsessive fear of being a bad person.

now, to be clear: tumblr did not CAUSE my OCD, and leaving tumblr did not cure it. that's just not how OCD works. later on, I learned that atypical antipsychotics--one of which I had been prescribed around that time, for depression--have been known to cause OCD. is there any way to prove that that's what happened? probably not, at this point! so I've just been kind of sitting with that terrible knowledge for a while.

anyway. I would've had OCD anyway, but reading a regular stream of posts going "hey, here's a really terrible thing you might be doing! you might even be doing it without knowing it! you need to think really hard and be constantly vigilant all the time for any sign that you might be doing this thing!" was basically pouring gasoline on the fire.

I never made an active decision to leave tumblr--if I had I would've said something first. I just kind of thought "god, I can't do this right now" one day and didn't open the app, which turned into days and then weeks and then months, and still things weren't getting better.

it's hard to express exactly how harrowing that whole experience was. actually I just started thinking about it and realized I would never finish this post tonight if I tried to get into it just now. so I won't. let's just say: It Was Bad.

but, by an astronomical stroke of luck, I ended up getting referred to not just an OCD therapist, not just the only OCD therapist in the state who took Medicaid, but the only OCD therapist in the state who took Medicaid and also she was really good at her job. I genuinely think that woman saved my life.

OCD therapy is one of those "the only way out is through" kind of things. it's brutal and also quite surreal, but it has a high success rate and is very effective. OCD is not a thing that you can cure, per se, but it went from completely dominating every waking moment of my life to being something that I occasionally have to yell at in much the same way as when the cat starts knocking things off my desk at 3 in the morning.

but, the thing was, it took a year-and-a-bit before my therapist and I agreed that I had probably "graduated" as she put it. so, by the time I felt able to go back on tumblr without my brain catching on fire again, it had been so long that I didn't know how to do it. I felt like I'd pulled a major dick move by just dropping off without saying anything. I still thought about it (usually late at night, at Time To Think About Every Regret I've Ever Had O'Clock) but my brain very easily goes to a place of "well, no one would really notice or care that I was gone, and if they did they'd be mad at me for having left."

well. earlier this year I started on the road to getting past that idea. shoutout to @fordtato for helping with that, btw.

but it took me a while to work up the courage and then, as previously mentioned, even longer to work up the neurotransmitters.

I think I gotta wrap this up for now cause I don't have much concentration juice left. but, for what it's worth: I had a lot of emotions, coming back and seeing the names of people I used to talk to all the time. I don't know how you feel about me anymore, but I really missed yall. I would like to talk to you again.

[kelogsloops]

putting this in the tumblr ask box bc idk where else to put it 🕺 does anyone even read these still

anyways i just woke up but i had a dream and you were a big part of it- i don’t want to say it was a nightmare or like a bad dream but like basically in the dream you announced that you would be quitting art and like retiring ig? it was for a few reasons but in that moment idk i just realized just how much you have had an influence on my life- you know that saying “you don’t know what you have until you lose it”? yeah…

honestly at first when i woke up i was so ready to call it a nightmare, like “oh my god?? you?? leaving?? forever?? noooo!” but as i’m sitting here awake now i realize eventually it’s probably gonna happen- maybe not in the way it was in my dream with you making a whole like announcement video and wiping your accs, but maybe quieter. i wonder if it’ll be that you stop making art, but i find that hard to imagine. i think it would happen slowly, less and less posts as the years go on. in my head even if you stop posting it, i’d think you’re still creating, making art for simply the sake of such. but then i think about how silly that thought is though, i don’t know you outside of your social media bubble. i don’t know your life and what happens there so to even assume something so quiet is pretentious of me. 

like i said, at first i thought it was a nightmare, i can’t bear the thought of you leaving one day- especially for the reasons you gave in my dream it was like “i gave up, arts getting too much for me, and things are so competitive now no one wants my art anymore…” blah blah blah. it was all my own stress as an artist manifesting onto you i think- but anyways i hope that should the day ever come where you do end up leaving your socials and whatnot, i can only hope that it’s out of your own accord and you do so because you want to, not out of pressure or anything like that. like i’m not saying i want you to quit or anything, but what i’m saying is if it happens i just hope it’s something that you chose on your own. i just don’t think i could ever stand that happening though without letting you know how much of an impact you’ve had on my life. 

i found your art when at a very developmental part of my life, so your work wether consciously or not i think has just become like a part of my brain wether conscious or not haha. whenever i go to draw even if i don’t explicitly go to look to your work for inspiration, it’s still there i can see it. it’s like just unconsciously ingrained at this point. but more than that though the whole idea of like “brb chasing dreams” and whatever and the whole idea that i feel you impart every time you share pieces of your journey as an artist to just keep going, i kind of stole that mantra for myself and started to tell myself that as well. even at my lowests, i’m still trying to follow that dream, even lost and i don’t know what direction i’m going in there’ll always be that dream as an anchor almost.

thank you for all that you’ve shared and thank you for being the biggest inspiration in my life. i know that’s quite dramatic to say, but i mean it in full honesty. whatever the future holds for you, i hope it’s kind. i hope you live a long life chasing all your dreams where at the end of the day, you’re happy. thank you. 

waking up to find a message like this in my inbox has me feeling t e a r y. it's reading stories like these and hearing how my work has impacted people that makes this all feel so surreal sometimes. the fact that people would even care if i stopped making art one day or just disappeared is crazy... i'm very fortunate!

i've resigned myself to the fact that sure, one day (but hopefully never) i won't be able to pursue a professional career as an artist anymore, but if there's one thing that i can promise, it's that there is no reality in where i stop making art!

i don't know if i show it enough, but to each and every one of you who have been part of my journey so far, thank you from the bottom of my heart. it's messages like these that pinch me and remind me how it's all so worth it

forever #brbchasingdreams

[dokidokitsuna]

Felt like showing off the "redesigns" of the Grand Festival outfits that I did for my most recent Today's Work video. I just wanted to see how they'd look with some colors on 'em...and they are nice. ^^ Of course, if/when I do actual redesigns, they'll be a lot more effortful than this...

I've been enjoying the Grand Festival so far, I think. Walking around the grounds and listening to the concerts is surprisingly mesmerizing; they really nailed the ambiance. ^^ It was fun scrolling Twitter during my lunch break yesterday and watching everyone scream about the merch (that they can't have) and the idols (that they've already seen performing a million times before). ^^;;; If there's one defining feature of Splatoon's fanbase, I'd say it's unbridled joy and enthusiasm~.

I think it also goes to show that building an intricate, believable 3D environment can do a lot to make players feel immersed and included, even if they can't really interact with anything. The "Cheer" and "Bounce" etc. options are also great examples of 'a little goes a long way'; they're extremely cute. ^^ I wish we had them for earlier Splatfests...

There's just one little detail of this celebration that nags at me though, to be honest...Splatoon composers, blink twice if you need help. (⊙_⊙;;;)

When I realized that they did new arrangements for the concert performances, AND some of the in-game music, AND the victory and loss music...I began to feel something I call 'consumer's guilt'. :/

Like, of course we should get lots of special music for the Special final Splatfest, but it's been like this for the whole 2 years...special music for every holiday Splatfest, special music from the splatbands for the new seasons, random single drops from the idols throughout the year, dozens of tracks just for Side Order...considering the amount of time and effort that goes into composing and producing just one song it's hard for me to believe that they've had any time to rest, or even to just work at a reasonable pace.

It's only natural for this constant demand for content to take a toll on the quality of their work, and I feel that it has...interestingly, though, I feel the lowest-quality tracks are the earliest ones. '_' Like, splatoonwiki.org has a music page, where the music for each game is separated into sections...and the Multiplayer section for Splatoon 3 is the only one that I have no interest in opening. That is to say, the music we hear most often, while playing the main attraction of the game itself, is in my opinion 90% forgettable slop.

Back when the unofficial soundtrack first came out and I listened to the first 2 hours during a long commute, I remember being really disappointed that not even one C-Side song resonated with me...and the rest to follow weren't much better. To this day, every time some Splatoon battle music gets stuck in my head, it's always something from 1 or 2 (i.e. the games I never played ^^;) I can't even recall what 3's battle music sounds like on command...I hear it every day, and yet it all just slides right off my brain. Even the tracks from established splatbands...none of their 'new' stuff hits the same.

If I had to guess, the composers knew very far ahead of time all the stuff they would have to do, and decided to rush through the generic squid-rock to focus on the interesting stuff. If I had both Deep Cut's and C-Side's music on my schedule, I know which one I would want to devote the most time to. And if I had to develop a totally new sound for Free Association (the entity responsible for the music in Side Order, reflecting its surreal techno-industrial vibes) and H2Whoa (a random new splatband that only exists to ring in Drizzle Season 2023) I know which project would be more interesting to me, and inspire more creative choices.

...In a perfect world, though, ALL the music could be of similar quality and creativity, because they wouldn't have to make so much so often! >_< I mean, I know music is central to Splatoon's identity (it's what got me into the series in the first place) but I feel like things are getting out of hand...something about this constant deluge of new music doesn't feel sustainable. I've seen composer burnout before, and because music is so important to this franchise, I'd hate to see it happen here...

[lovingmidnight]

runway angel

summary: in which your dream company reaches out to work with you, as jude supports you in the crowd.

authors note: I know VS stopped its shows a long time ago but this idea popped in my head and I couldn't come up with any other brands 😭 so yeah some shit might be wrong but how the fuck would I know, I've never been offered a job 💀

it was a sunday evening. you were laying on the couch with judes head on your chest and his torso between your legs. you guys spent the whole evening watching Marvel movies that you almost forgot about Monday snooping around the corner. while Judes eyes almost falling asleep, a vibration shook him awake as my phone was resting on his back.

"babe..." he says, shaking awake to tell me about an incoming call while handing me my phone.

he sat straight as he waited me to take the call, worried of why someone would be calling me at such hour, 2 am on a Sunday.

"Hello, miss y/l/n, we're reaching out to offer you a contract for Victoria's Secret. details emailed to your address and sorry for the disturbance. goodnight from the management company dear y/n."

"oh my gosh-" I move the phone away from my face as I gap my mouth open to judes curious face, soon before taking a breath and answering professionally.

"thank you. will be notifying you. goodnight." I say calmly, processing what just happened just before screaming on the top of my lungs

"What?? who was it??"

I cover my mouth in awe, pulling jude in to hug

"you're scaring me y/n- what happened??"

he says with a tone of laughter in his voice, realizing by my voice it was good news.

"VICTORIA'S FUCKING SECRET" I laugh pulling away to see his face.

jude mouthed out "oh shit" as I grabbed him again, almost falling to tears.

"I'm modeling for Victoria fucking secret." I laughed with tears building upon my eyes.

"I'm so proud of you darling" he kissed the top of my head, holding me tight.

"I'm gonna shit myself jude-" I giggle through my cry

"calm down darling" he chuckled before grabbing my shoulders and pulling me in front to get a look on my face

"when is the show? I'll be there no matter the schedules I have" he smiled

"No way!! you will??" I gasped excitedly, knowing how busy his schedule was, it meant a lot that he was willing to make time for me

"mhm." he nodded, kissing my cheek

wed. 21:03. show night.

they began to touch my makeup up, one person curling my hair, another fixing my eyeliner, another one putting on lipstick as the other rubbed body glitter on my arms.

my outfit was truly the most beautiful thing I've ever worn, let alone seen. black lingerie, mesh tights, real diamond necklace with gorgeous black gloves and last but not least, huge black wings.

"you look gorgeous miss. y/l/n." the stylist smiled at me warmly as I walked up to the curtains, waiting for my name to be called.

"next up: miss. y/n y/l/n". the small tv screen lit up as I took a deep breath and walked outside to the stage.

I strut to the stage, smiling with awe and feeling surreal that this was truly happening. I eyed the audience trying to see him, and there he was. standing up in the crowd, clapping as his eyes told something no words could. he looked like a proud mother which made me smile even more. his eyes met mine and it felt like the first time it did, when we were tense and awkward at first, him getting red everytime our eyes locked. now it felt like it was a part of me, to feel welcome in his eyes.

as I glanced over him, I winked which made him smirk and look down.

the fans saw this interaction which caused our names trending on Twitter, and dozens of edits swarming the internet.

[miss0atae]

I finally watched the final episode of DFF and I can say the ending is very satisfying, except for my poor White. I thought he would be the final survivor but he died anyway (let me mourn in silence 😭).

▪️ Non was avenged for everything, if you believe death is the perfect revenge. Fluke and Top killed themselves in some way. White was killed by his lover. Phee stopped New and killed him too. Everyone killed each others and had to face Non before dying (except White because he never knew him and was innocent… Yes I still can't accept his death. 😅)

▪️ I know the ending of this episode was a bit controversial but I believe it was interesting. I like how they made us believe, at first, Phee, Jin and Tee got away from this house and carried on with their life (except Tee, but I want to talk about this after). The normalcy of Phee and Jin life seemed truly unlikely the more they talk to each other. The color was so bright, it hurt. It felt surreal. Then they went to the place where Phee brought his two lovers and after witnessing Non, he started questioning everything and it ended right here. There is no mistake. They never left and the final image is their last resting place: the house! I found this very poetic, in some way.

Now I wanna talk about each character's ending and if it was fitted with their behavior towards Non.

▪️ Fluke never did post the video and just witnessed everything and never tried to save Non. He believed himself to be innocent in some way, because he was never the one who did anything. He was just there, following the rest of the group. He was a coward and probably (I don't know if it was implied as heavily as viewers think) relieved the group had someone else to bully. His death was fitting to mee*. He wanted to act like he never saw anything, well he didn't need his eyes anymore. Why needing eyes when you want to be blind to everything that is not you. I also don't forget how much of a bully he was also to White (Have I told you how I was protective of him? 😂). He may have not been the meanest to Non but he became also like the rest of the group after Non's disappearance. I've heard a victim of bullying often becomes a bully and you can see it with Fluke.

▪️ Top was just a nasty being. He never had any ounce of kindness and I'm surprised he survived so long. I couldn't stand him. Every time I saw his smirk I got annoyed. He was an active bully against Non. He called him "Greasy" anytime he could. He lied and used him too. I also think he never really tried to cover his wrong doings. He never minded using the wit of others to save him. He never cared about ensuring their plans would work. He thought himself to be a leader but was mostly a follower. I think his death could have been worse. Something that would match his actions more.

▪️ White, my innocent poor boy who just made the mistake of loving the wrong person, he didn't deserve his death at all. He just wanted to spend time with Tee and love him. He was faithful, kind and a bit naughty but in the good way (the candy scene!). Dying by the hand of your lover… It's just sad. Tee killed him because he thought it was Non and when he realized it, it far too late. I don't like the narrative for White. He got punished for loving the wrong guy and it doesn't sit well with me. His mistake was a small one and it was also because he never had a way to know. I don't know how the writers could have saved him because it wouldn't work well in this story, but I still don't like it. I wish I could find a good ending for him that would go well with the story, but I can't imagine anything.

▪️ New died because of Phee and it was expected. As someone said here, he was a dead man walking. He had only one goal and no one to wait for him outside. His desperation was his only fuel. He wanted to avenge his brother and it didn't matter who was in the middle of this revenge. If he survived, it would have not worked. He had to die to put a final stop to this story. It's sad to believe his entire family and himself died because of a group of self-absorbed brats. He did what he had to and left with the feeling his work was done.

▪️ Now I have to talk about Phee… How the mighty have fallen. He was the previous lover and he acted like he wanted to avenge Non. His actions at the beginning of the story showed him to be the mastermind until we discovered it was New. From that moment, his actions seemed different and less pro-actives. He wanted to save Jin (which could be understandable because he was his lover… You know feelings and everything can get in the middle of a quest for truth) but why did he want to save the bullies of his past lover and even said he consider them as friends?! That's where I started to think Phee was lost. I admit he never said he wanted to act on them. He wanted the truth, while New wanted to make them pay. Phee probably would have given the info to the authorities and expected them to take the lead there.

▪️ Jin, in his hallucination, saw himself being filmed by others while he was having sex. It's a direct link to what he did to Non. He filmed him and released the clip online. He had a weird relationship with cameras. On one hand it was his hobby and on the other hand it was also a "weapon" he used to express his jealousy towards Non. He had a crush on him and he wanted him but instead Non was with Keng. He was jealous and felt betrayed (even though he never did anything to make his feelings really known by Non) and he wanted to hurt him the way he felt he was hurt by Non. So for him to hurt his hand was the appropriate punishment. Without a hand you can't act on your "ill-feelings" and you also lose the opportunity to use it for good things anymore (such as taking pictures as a form of art).

▪️ As for Tee, it was the most fitted punishment. He couldn't deserve the happiness of being loved and in love because of his actions because he had taken Non away from being loved and in love too. Losing the reason he started to act better and rethink his life, is a true retribution. I also felt his relationship with Non was the most interesting. There was this tension between them, especially when Non ended up at the service of his Uncle. Tee was in hell and instead of trying to find a way out, he dragged Non along with him, while still thinking he had no other choice. Tee grew up in a toxic environment, but we saw he could find a way out when surrounded with the right opportunity such as his meeting with White. The fact he met White, while finding a way to help Non get away from his Uncle is proof how "good" actions can lead to even better things while "bad" actions, like making Non being the scapegoat for the broke camera, leads to worse things. To be honest, the false ending of Jin, Phee and him being away from the house, is the best punishment for his actions if the idea is to really punish him. He is alive, but he has to live with the idea of killing his love and losing his so-called friends. He then get consumed by his thoughts. Very gothic!

To finish, I would like to say I had so much fun watching this series, reading about it here and writing the longest texts in English I've ever made. Even having people commenting on them and being able to exchange was truly a delight. I liked everything. I'm a bit sad it's already the end. I hope we'll get to watch the actors in other series. I found most of them to be good. I also like how this BL breached out of the typical BL's stories (even if I still enjoy them too). I like when they try to innovate and create something different. Let's hope we'll get another one soon as entertaining and compelling as this one. Thanks for the ride.

[anon-imuz]

Yandere Jodio X childhood friend reader who moved away before Jodio set that bus on fire because her dad got a job in Ohio and she comes back to visit her relatives in Hawaii when she's in High school and she decides to surprise visit Jodio and Dragona and their mom. Jodio isn't willing to let her go a second time.

your probably have no idea of how MAD i am i literally finished writing this and my phone crashed so I have to do it again... idk if it was longer or shorter before since it got magically deleted

not a gif but idc

Pairing: Yandere!Jodio Joestar x Fem!Childhood friend! Reader

Warnings:Yandere behavior and imprisonment

Type:angst with a bit of psychological horror

Notes: i dont condone dddne irl and English isn't my first language so there might be spelling mistakes. I'm also not good at psychological horror but I tried anyway

Your dad after a long day of work, knocked on your door.

"Hey can you open? I've got something to tell you."

You got up, placed your phone on the nightstand, walked up to your door and opened it.

"We're going to Hawaii for a few days to visit your relatives. I hope you're happy, and if you are, start packing your bags!" Your dad said, but closed the door before you could even say anything.

You picked up your suitcase and started packing it, putting all the necessary things inside.

When you woke up, your family settled to go back to your childhood place, you were excited to meet your relatives, but also someone else.

When you arrived, all your relatives met you with sweet phrases and hugs, only to then let you go set off all your stuff and come to the table to eat something.

After that, it was almost late evening so you decided to go surprise your friend with a visit. You explained everything to your parents only to leave off with a:

"Yeah yeah don't worry, I'll call you if something happens!"

You then went to the florist to buy some nice flowers for his mom, and went to his house.

You knock on the door,

"Who's there?" His mom asks.

"Guess who!" You respond in a playful tone.

She then greets you with a hug and various compliments, also thanking your for the flowers.

Once you've entered his house, you tiptoed to his room, then knocking.

"Come in..." He said in an annoyed tone, only to then widen his eyes when he saw you.

"Hii!" You greet him with a cute smile, sitting on the edge of his bed.

Finally. Finally you came back. Finally you could be with him forever.

"Oh hi, didn't expect you here." He played it off cool with a neutral face.

"Only a hi? it's been a while since we last met you know? asking anything is okay." You say, strange out by his behavior.

"Did you miss me?" He hesitantly asked.

"Well yeah, but growing up I've also made some other friends, you know..."

What?

Friends?

Wasn't he supposed to be your only friend? Wasn't he supposed to be the only friend you'd rely on? The one you loved the most?

He didn't know how to answer, but then sighed and said:

"If that's what you're looking for..."

You didn't understand his phrase because as soon as he finished it you were knocked out.

When you woke up, you felt tightly held by some ropes,on your wrists and ankles. When you got conscious, you realized you were trapped and couldn't do anything about it.

You screamed for help but the only thing that replied to you were your own echoes.

"You're disgusting. After all the time I spent waiting for you, after all the hope that I lost thinking of you, of our memories, thinking you still cared about me, the only thing you're able to tell me is that you've made new friends? With some random annoying stupid scumbags? I should be your only friend. There should be no other one but me. I'm so disappointed by you..." He said, almost scolding you.

What? Was he serious? He really was the one who did this? This felt surreal. There was no way this wasn't some nightmare caused by the stress from school.

"W-what? A-are you crazy? LET ME GO! NOW!" You screamed in fear, but only received a giggle as response.

"Me? Crazy? I'm the crazy one? Do you even know what you're saying?" He asked.

"LET ME FUCKING GO YOU PSYCHO! NOW!!!" You screamed, as loud as you could, but nobody answered.

"Your words are very rude, Oh by the way, I really wanted to say that your parents are so loving. You have no idea how many times they've called your phone. Then they called my mom, she asked me where you were. I said i didn't know because after a while you just left and I had no idea where you were or went. But guess what? I was lying, of course. Now we're going to be best friends forever and nothing will do us apart. Hey, perhaps you'll even develop some feelings for me. " He said, cupping your cheek with his hand, with a light grin on his face.

[darling-i-read-it]

Her Laugh - Laugh Final Part

Part 1

Part 2

Any!Joker x fem!reader, slight Any!Bruce Wayne x fem!reader

Word Count: 3.5k

Warnings: so many things, reader slowly going insane, toxic relationship, Bruce and the reader continuing to argue, the reader is almost mugged, people are literally murdered (shot), insinuations to smut, let me know if I've missed any!

Author’s Note: I haven’t enjoyed writing something as much I enjoyed writing this in a long time! I hope you guys enjoy this, I would totally be down to write more in this little universe I’ve adjusted!! 

Tagging: @burningfanflowercash, @b4b3ttee, @mysteriouslydeafeningwerewolf, @dildoswagginsstuff, @russian-soft-bitch

Summary: The reader starts to slowly realize she has been between an age old fight and is choosing the wrong side. 

Song: I Started a Joke by ConfidentalMX

I don’t own these characters. They belong to author/director/creator

(not my gif)

You woke up before the sun. It was cold in your room and it took you a long moment to realize your sheets had been tossed on the ground. You raised your head, hair falling in front of your face. You looked at the clock on your bedside table. 5am. Still night, essentially. You tried to figure out why you had woken up when there was movement on the bed beside you. 

Your head whipped around. 

For some reason you didn’t expect Bruce. Your initial reaction was Joker before your brain even caught up with the previous night's events. He was sitting up, bare back facing you. You moved your hair out of your face and reached onto the ground for a sheet. It was so cold. Had you left a window open? 

Joker turned his head on the side so you could see half his face. It was the half that was still healing from the night before. It was the broken part and the lack of a fake smile made it look even more menacing. It was like his features were falling off, melting in the night light. His makeup had smeared in his sleep. The indents of his soon to be scars illuminated in the moon.  He hadn’t left. You had expected him to leave. 

Bruce left. 

You dragged yourself and the sheet closer to him. You put your hand on his shoulder. His skin was like ice. 

“You’re freezing,” you whispered. You almost didn’t recognize your voice. It was so early and so surreal. The normalcy of your life went out the window the second he entered it. You wanted to put a blanket over him, warm him up, like a wet stray puppy. 

“I have to go,” he said. You hadn’t heard his voice so quiet. It was almost normal, like a regular man. You couldn’t think of him with his guard down but you thought this was as close as you were going to get. Even the night before his guard had been up, even as he hovered above you with that smile plastered on his lips. 

“Alright,” you whispered. He stood up, grabbing his clothes off the ground. You watched him. Any thoughts of Bruce had gone out the window as you waited, unsure if he was going to say goodbye, wondering if you wanted him to come back. You rested your head back on the pillow he had been laying on. It smelled like him. Gunpowder and clown makeup. You laughed gently at the thought, how random it was. He turned to you, a sly smile on his face. 

“My laugh,” he whispered. He came back to you, grabbing your chin to kiss you. It was almost like he was going off to work. “I’ll see you tonight.” 

You let him go and fell back asleep when he was gone, dreaming of his lips on yours, wondering when things had felt so special before. 

-

When you woke up again it was too harsh knocks on the door. You groaned, lifting your head. Had it been a dream? There was so little proof he had been here at all except your memory and the lack of clothes on your body. The knocking was coming more aggressively. 

“Hold on!” you called. You threw on a shirt and eventually found some sweats. Your mind lingered on the midmorning kiss. You could still taste it on your lips. 

When you entered your kitchen you saw the first aid kit was still there, half put away. There was still blood on the counter, his blood. He had been here after all. 

You opened the door without checking to see who it was. 

Bruce didn’t wait for you to invite him in. 

“Why didn’t you answer your phone last night?” You stared at him, still waking up. 

“What?”

“I called. You didn’t answer.” You had never seen him so angry about your relationship. He was usually easygoing. You were the angry one. You were the one who fought for your supposed love, the one who asked where he had been, the one who called and never got an answer. You weren’t sure how to react to this. 

“I was busy.”

“Doing what?”

“Stuff.” You almost cringed at your own excuse. Your brain was still asleep. You were still half in bed, half with him. 

“I thought you were dead.”

“I was home.” 

“I can tell.” He gestured to the TV that was still on. The blanket on the couch that had never been folded. He turned to look at you, looking you up and down. Half dressed, makeup still on. “What were you doing?”

“Bruce-”

“I know you saw Batman the other night.” You stopped speaking completely. You were effectively shut up. “Didn’t think I knew that, did you?”

“Are you stalking me?” You had slept with the man who held you at gunpoint but at this point stalking was crossing the line. 

“No!” Bruce let out a heavy sigh. “I was coming home and I saw you. That’s why I called.” You furrowed your brows, trying to catch up here. He knew you were in danger that night? 

“And you didn’t come see me?” 

“I thought you were dead in the streets! You weren’t answering your phone!’

“It broke you asshole!” You backed up, shaking your head. “Wait wait. Let me get this straight. You saw me being attacked by the Joker, called me to see if I was okay, I was cut off and you thought ‘huh she must be fine!’?” 

“It wasn’t like that.”

“Sounds like it. You waited until the morning to see if I was here alive!” 

“What about you then? You didn’t tell me you had been attacked when I came here yesterday. You don’t come by the manor, you don’t call-”

“What are you accusing me of?” 

“I don’t know what I’m accusing you of but I know something is wrong!” You were both breathing heavily. He looked around, searching for something else to argue about. He walked to your kitchen, picking up the first aid kit. “Like what is this?”

“I cut myself,” you said. 

“You didn’t put it away?”

“I went to sleep. Sorry I don’t have a butler and a maid to clean up my goddamn messes Bruce!” You shook your head. “I want you out of my house. I want you gone.” 

“I want to know what happened that night,” he said, again, like you hadn’t heard him the first twenty times. 

“I ran home! I fell asleep out of exhaustion and terror! What else do you want me to say?!” Bruce and you stared at each other. He wanted to argue more. He wanted you to tell him from top to bottom how you got from lost in the streets to here. 

He had been scared for you. You were all he had that wasn’t attached to the Batman. You were the only real thing he had left. He couldn’t protect you when you needed to be protected. 

“Bruce. Get out.” 

He eyed you, up and down, still in your pajamas. 

“Who did you sleep with?” 

“Get out!” You opened the door for him, gesturing aggressively. You had moved on, he could tell. Whatever sympathy you had for him and your life together had passed in two nights and he had no idea how that had happened. He walked past you, defeated, shaking his head. How had he lost you that quickly? 

-

Waiting out in the streets of Gotham was not your brightest idea. You weren’t exactly promised a run in with the specific villain you were looking for. But you needed to get groceries and you left a little after dusk so that your chances were a bit higher. The bat sign was shining bright in the sky, warning everyone that the dark knight was lurking in the shadows. 

If the bat was out you had to assume Jay was as well. 

You followed underneath the streetlights. It was a dewey night, the rain having gone away but not left entirely. Its reminisce was still hanging from window shutters and the drainage that gurgled underneath you. You had gotten used to Gotham’s noises. You passed little people in the night but there were still some, keeping their heads down like you were the danger. 

You turned a corner past an alleyway and was halted by a voice in the shadows. 

“Dark night for a lady alone.” You didn’t recognize the cadence and gripped the knife in your pocket you never left home without. You had no idea who was out here at night. You tried to rush past without engaging but whatever was there reached out to grab your arm. 

You turned, coming face to face with the features of a strange man. Scary is the word you would use to describe him. Harsh eyes, a venomous smile on his face. 

He only lasted a moment when a bullet went from one ear to the other, causing a mock glasgow smile without the knife. His hand let go of you before he fell limp. You stared down at him, eyes wide, adrenaline still pumping.

“We’ve got to stop meeting like this!” There was a voice you recognized. You looked up to meet his gaze. He had redone his makeup, covering up the injuries from the night before but not well. You could still see the indents of the slashes. “What’re you doin out here doll?” 

“Getting groceries.” He reached into his shoe and pulled out another gun, though smaller. He handed it to you. 

“Need one of these. Scary place out here, scary characters.” You looked down at the man he had killed for you, the one who had God knows what intentions. He didn’t even blink. “Put it in that pretty waistband.” You did as you were told. “I was gonna come by later,” he whispered like it was a secret he didn’t want the other ghosts of the area to hear. 

“I told you, I needed groceries.” 

“You waited till it was dark to get oj and white bread?” 

“Batman’s out,” you teased, slowly regaining your sanity. Or maybe you were losing it the more you saw him. 

“We all know how fun he is.” Joker huffed a piece of hair out of his face. “I’ll pick up some milk sweets. Go home.” 

“You got plans you don’t me involved in?”

“I got places you don’t wanna be,” he promised. His voice was lower than usual and you knew there was truth behind that. You looked back down the street towards your apartment. You were closer to it then you were to the store. 

“I need eggs.” 

“Those are gonna break on the carry over but I’ll do my very best.” You rolled your eyes. “Get Batman to walk you home.” You were about to succeed to him when there was a noise above you. Like a woosh, subtle but still there. You looked up, eyes squinting in the dark. 

“You hear that?” you whispered. 

“Fun’s about to begin!” Joker grabbed your arm and pushed you to his chest. “I’m going to do something I’m known for. You just stand still huh?” You squinted at him and then there was a gun to your temple. You froze. “Come out, come out wherever you are!” 

Your breathing hitched and started to become ragged. He had just shot a man, his blood still on your shoes. You hadn’t even processed that yet and now there was a gun to your head, cold, calculated, terrifying. It wasn’t the first time he had held it to your head. You had a shocking feeling like it wouldn’t be the last. 

The murmur of movement came closer until there was someone just behind you. 

“Alone tonight Joker?” 

The voice was deep and menacing. It was distorted, like something you might hear on Halloween. But you knew who that voice belonged to. 

Joker wiped you around, gun still flush to your skin, a laughter bubbling from his lips. Batman stood there in all his glory, broad shouldered, eyes like daggers. 

“Not quite, Bats.” You tried to catch the Batman’s eyes but he was staring directly at the man holding you at gunpoint. He watched Joker’s every little moves, the staccato of his arms, the shiver of his stance. Joker dug the tip of the gun into your skull a little more. “Why don’t you let the nice lady and I go hm?”

“You know I can’t do that.” 

Joker’s hands around your other arm tightened. 

It was then you realized something startling but clear as day. You weren’t sure if it was the exaggeration of the gun against you for Batman’s sake or the demand that you stay still. 

Right then, right now, he had no intention of shooting you. 

You weren’t even sure if the safety on the gun was off. 

So what was he doing? 

“Don’t be a party pooper! It’d be a shame if I were to drop this pretty little thing in the middle of nowhere. Do you think she deserves that Bats?” 

“Never seemed to bother you before,” Batman argued. “Let her go before this gets violent.” 

“You know I love when it gets violent.” 

His other hand moved away from your arm, to the waistband behind you where your gun was. He grabbed it slowly. The smile on his face crept wider. Lightning fast he shot at the ground before the Bat’s feet and dropped you, shoving you towards the alleyway. It took you only a moment to regain your footing before you started to run away. 

You only got ten feet away when someone else grabbed your waist and scooped you up. You screamed, the first real scream of the night. Your feet were off the ground and you were going higher than you ever had on your own. 

The black cape moved against the wind, creating a foreign sensation in your legs. You were landed somewhere and your brain hadn’t even actually managed to figure out how you had got there. You gasped, unsteady on your feet when he let you go. Where were you? 

You cursed under your breath as you stumbled towards the edge of the roof. You looked down at the alleyway you had just been in. It seemed so far away. You turned around, wind wiping your hair into knots. You breathed out even more unsteady now as you used the edge of the building to steady yourself. 

Batman stood three feet in front of you. 

“What were you doing out here?”

The distortion was gone. His voice was like a man’s again, not a figures. You looked back down to the ground. Smoke was rising from where you had been, where Joker had been. Where had he run off to? You looked back to the masked man. His mystery stripped away as your brain racked for the voice’s source. 

“Getting groceries,” you promised. To your surprise, after you said the words you started to laugh. Your laughter carried into the night, louder as it went on, shocking the man in front of you. It went on too long. 

Bruce didn’t even recognize the sound. 

He knew your laugh, the one you gave him after a stupid joke or the one you had in the morning after he brought you breakfast in bed. He knew the giggles after kisses and he knew the fake ones you gave at party guests. This was none of that. What was this? 

“So this is where you were all those nights?” you questioned as your laughter fizzled out. You sat on the ledge, teetering back and forth. All of your fear had dissipated. It had been Bruce all along scaring the daylights out of you. Your fingers nimbly gripped the edge. You swang your legs back, pretending to fall. Bruce stepped forward to help, an uninterested look on his mostly covered face. 

“You shouldn’t be out this late,” he said as he walked up to you. 

“This is how you knew I ran into the Batman! You are the Batman!”

“Shush.” 

“No! This is miraculous! You ditched me for the crime in Gotham. Honestly, I kind of understand. The crime out here is just so fun.” You titled our head down, looking up at him with large eyes. “Better in bed too.” 

You had successfully silenced him for the moment. The sounds of Gotham surrounded the two of you, the sirens and the screams and the quick steps of running robbers. You pushed yourself off the edge and into his face. Your chests were flush. 

“Wanna know how I got home that night?” 

He looked down at you, scowling. He had started to shake from the anger of your words, the venom that dripped from then. How had he lost you? When had he lost you? When, in those quiet lonely nights, had you spilled your sanity and never bothered picking it back up? 

“We’re going home.” He grabbed your arm. You fought away from him. 

“No! I’m a grown woman and I can do as I please. You aren’t my keeper Bruce.” 

“Quiet your voice.”

“Oh nervous I’ll spill your secret?” You turned around, still stunned from his grip. “Batman is Bruce Wayne! Batman is B-” 

He put a hand over your mouth. You turned to him, an angry pout on your features. 

“Shut up.” You stood in silence together. He gripped your arm tighter, pulling you with him. You fought, even as he let your mouth go. You planted your feet. You wanted to be gone. You didn’t want to be with him anymore, you didn’t want to be stuck in the rut that was his trophy girlfriend. Being the superhero's girlfriend was not all it was cut out to be. Didn’t Spider-Man’s Mary-Jane always end up dead or depressed? 

“Let me g-” 

Something landed on the roof with a hollow metal clunk. You both turned to look at it. 

Smoke came from the canister behind him, seeping over the ground in spindles. Bruce let go of you, turning around to survey the area. 

In the mere second he had let go of you, someone behind you pushed you over the edge of the roof. You landed on your back on a fire escape. You cursed, adjusting your shoulders from the stark pain. You sat up and there was a hand in yours. 

It was fuzzy and you were running down the escape and you were down the alley and it was like you didn’t even feel like there was a lack of oxygen in your lungs. You ran quicker, trying to keep up with the person in front of you that was dragging you along. Miles felt like minutes. 

There was someone laughing. 

You started to realize it was you. 

-

The door to your apartment opened. You hadn’t locked it. Your lips were on his before the door even shut. It was combated by insane giggles and surefire cackles. He threw his arms around you, pushing you against the door.

“You think Bats know where we are?” he questioned against your lips. You hummed, putting your head against the door. 

“Bruce sure does.”

“Fun.” He kissed you again, deeper. Who would’ve thought he’d find out who Batman was through the girl he almost killed a couple days ago. He locked the door behind you and stumbled with you to the bedroom. 

He would dip you in a chemical plant or something tomorrow. He was almost positive you would ask how high if he asked you to jump. Right now he would keep you inside, enjoy the night. You would trace his scars and ask questions he didn’t know the answers to. 

He pushed you onto the bed, towering over you. 

You laughed.

[jennilah]

I don't think I've ever fully read your about me thing until a few minutes ago, and I looked at the animation reel on your website, AND HOLY CRAP YOUR WORK IS AMAZING?? AND YOU'VE WORKED ON SOME OF THE COOLEST FILMS WHAT THE FUCK, It's so good I'm in shock, what's your job like? Does it ever get stressful? What's the best thing you've ever worked on in your job? And once more, HOLY CRAP YOUR ANIMATIONS ARE AWESOME OH MY FREAKING GOD.

Hope you have a good day, AND YOU ARE SO COOL, inspiring me to look at what job I actually want in the future.

ASHDHSHFHHG THANK YOU SO MUCH

i’m so happy you like it!! it’s weird to say but it’s hard to openly gush about my own work without sounding like i’m just bragging but I really do just enjoy what I do that much

it’s usually normal! whenever I get to actually slap some keyframes around and work on exciting shots, it’s a LOT of fun. because I find the act of animating genuinely enjoyable. and I love my teammates, the people I get to work with is some of the best parts. Many of my favorite experiences so far was just because the team was so fun to work with, with our team memes and jokes and outings and such. doing extreme overtime was made slightly worth it with such entertaining companions in the animation trenches by my side.

sometimes it’s incredibly stressful yes. the technical stuff isn’t as fun, or sometimes you get a shot that makes you want to rip all your hair out because it’s so goddamn annoying, or it’s just very difficult, or there’s technical glitches kicking your ass, or the clients just seem to never be happy with it. there’s def been some long nights with tears. but usually the rewarding stuff outweighs the bad. for me at least. 😬

oh god don’t even get me started on the industry halts, that’s a whole other beast that we’re dealing with right now.

ANYWAY

gosh well everything i’ve worked on is one of my children that i love in its own way………. but i DO love my children unequally LMAO

some of my top experiences have definitely been:

Godzilla KOTM- a dream come true as a big Godzilla fan and relatively new animator, and later again getting to work on Monarch

Prey- some of the most kickass shots i’ve gotten to say I animated. the predator fighting a bear? fuck yeah

Top Gun Maverick- the absolute jaw-dropping shock i had to the reception to the film, realizing what i got to be a part of. an incredibly surreal feeling.

and i’ll stop there bc i could honestly say something about everything and just go down memory lane like a cringe aunt forcing everyone to look at her vacation photos

again THABK YOU SO MUCH!!!! 😭 ❤️❤️

[thisblogwilleatourselves]

mirror anon works. and no worries, i also enjoy rambling about plurality.

to preface: there really isn't a right or wrong way to be plural. every system has their own answers for these questions, and having a different one from others doesn't make you wrong or less of a system. my answers come from our personal perspective as a cisplural system who had to do a lot of faking it before any of it started to make sense.

you don't need to feel like "separate people" straight off the bat - or at all. in addition, systems where only the core fronts are not uncommon and are still systems. if it's more comfortable and less privacy-invading to think of your headmates as different versions of or pieces of you, that's perfectly valid. you may have more luck working on talking to them internally or through a proxy like discord or simplyplural chat at first rather than having them front. we just personally found the opposite easier, for our own internal structure reasons.

you don't need to lie or erase your previous explaination of reality. if you want to, go ahead - but i've found it's easier to go with the path of least resistence on these things. you can just frame it as "realizing that you're a system." even cisDID systems go through long periods of denial and repression, so it's not at all unreasonable to "suddenly" become a system.

flailing around is fine too. it's really more of a vibes thing, really. if one headmate is supposed to be more cheerful, acting more cheerful. if one is supposed to like a certain food or hobby or something, indulging in that when they're front and avoiding it when they're not. etc. even that can be overcomplicating it - changing your icon or using a typing quirk or such are all effective tactics as well. it's really just whatever helps you&.

to be blunt: from our perspective, with everything you've already said, you are already plural. more on the median side, but there's nothing lesser about that. if you'd prefer to be more separate, or have more of you, that's an option, but you don't need to distance yourself from the label because you don't have those things yet. try out different things and see what makes you(&) feel comfortable. best of luck. 🪞

Ah thank you! yea sometimes even tho we know plurality is an entire spectrum we don't give the same leniency to ourselves.

ohh we didn't know that that was a way you could be plural in, like seeing them as different versions of yourself, which in our current situation would prob be a good starting point cause we already see our other selves as past/alternate lives of ourself and identify as them all at once (tho with others being more prominent like z1m and b1ll) like we go by a name that refers to all 4 of us and beyond, but it's become less in time ourself and more like a mask, cause ppl don't get it when we tell them we are z1m and the others so we just say we are "insert name". We aren't sure it even is a core, the core or whatever that is could’ve been somebody else, are memories are too bad to recall clearly. We do have pluralkit in our personal discord servers, but haven't used it much. maybe we'll start trying ^^.

ohh that makes sense. we have been "out" and then back in the "closet" with telling our mom we are plural, then singlet. then plural lol so she's used to the routine.

alrighty, we have like concepts tied to our headmates now already, like z1m is surreal, types with a mix of lowercase and uppercase, and b1ll uses lots of these' things' you add onto' the end of a word, and caps for emphasis, sponge is cheerful and optimistic while b1ll is very pessimistic, z1m is like both at the same time, and we don't know what Jerm is in that comparison but we associate it with clowns. there is associations with our name we tell others like winter, white, blood, owls, fog.

ahhh thank youuu again

we've actually been told that each time we've asked for other plural ppls honest opinions with our descriptions and each time ppl told us we were likely plural median. we aren't sure if we wanna be fully separate, we like the idea of being a bunch of versions of us, still treated as mostly one entity but regonized that we aren't the same as a singlet. and us changing who we are at the moment being natural and fluid.

we will keep testing the waters and see how deep we can go! ^^

[eonars]

BORINGGGGG ⬇️🚫😴🤓

Moved into my actual long term place in the city today (have been living in my department head's basement apartment thing until my contract starts and that was way out in the countryside where the university is) right now it's 10:15pm and I'm all tucked up in the brand new fresh bedding I bought today for my dinky little twin bed because this is a one room studio. Which is worth honestly bc I'm paying only approx $1k a month for it and it's smack DEEP in the city center, walking distance from the train station and surrounded by all kinds of super exciting stuff. Tomorrow I need to unpack properly and go through the box of kitchen stuff the landlord gave me and decide what I want + do a big shop of establishing kitchen essentials + possibly another less big shop of homewares and storage/organization stuff perhaps. I've also been struck with the realization that tomorrow is Saturday night and I'm in the big city and can just.....go out if I want to and easily walk back here whenever I want. I gotta go into the office on Monday even though there's nothing to do because I need to retrieve my work laptop (left it there so there'd be one less thing to move) and I figure since I'm there I can also practice the presentation I have to give at this summer school program. The summer school program that I have to leave for on Tuesday because why would I get to just chill and settle in to the new place for more than 4 days you know. But that's where the real hard work is gonna start because they're gonna have us in lectures and practical sessions on cryopreservation and laser microscopy from the getgo which is giving me the major fear cause from here on out it's Real. Like I get back from this week long program and immediately it's time for my husbandry sessions and learning to do ivf on fish and a microdissection session and signing up for the ethics in animal experimentation course and I'm getting a weird fear that for whatever reason I'll just full stop be too stupid to determine cryodamage via laser microscopy and they'll be like actually you're done just go back. Which is stupid I'm aware because obviously they know full well I'm not an expert on this stuff and I've never even done it before and accepted me anyway but still. It just feels really surreal cause I suddenly got every single thing I've ever wished for in the space of like two months and I haven't been able to shake the feeling that somethings gonna go wrong and it's all gonna disappear and I'm gonna end up back home again. Or like I'm scared it's gonna be too hard and I won't be able to do it cause they overestimated me and I have the least lab and research experience out of all these other candidates because again I'm just a minimum wage waster from california they brought in vs veterinarians and research scientists. Like if doing ivf on a zebrafish was so easy surely everyone would be doing it. I've also had an unshakeable migraine for like 3 days now and I think even though I've been doing so well at a solid 11:30 to 7am sleep sched for these last few weeks I'm gonna let myself sleep in tomorrow morning before I rise and grind and unpack. And then maybe dress up and go sip a vodka soda in a metal bar alone looking like a spooked antelope.

[hauntedveil]

In just a few days, I will be going back to school, and it's almost surreal to reflect on the person I was just a year ago…

A year ago, I started my graduate studies at a large prestigious university. Since then I’ve:

1. Started transitioning- Embracing my natural hair was a significant change for me. Since childhood, my hair had been regularly chemically straightened, and I never knew what it actually looked like in its natural state. After years of dealing with dry, brittle hair that was falling out at the roots, I decided to stop all chemical processing and allow my hair to grow as it was meant to. This journey has been challenging; filled with tearful nights and more moments of low confidence than not. I still struggle with my self-image, as my long, straight hair was deeply tied to my sense of identity and beauty. As I work on regrowing my hair, I’m gradually coming to terms with my changing appearance. I’m attempting to redefine my standards of beauty, and I trust that, in time, I’ll feel like myself again—beautiful in a new way.

2- went vegetarian. This might not come as a surprise to myself, considering I've spent much of my life already limiting parts of my diet. For a few years, I was pescatarian. When I started college and began cooking for myself, the only meat I would occasionally prepare was bacon for breakfast. Raw meat has always genuinely repulsed me. There wasn’t a specific reason or a pivotal moment that led me to fully embrace vegetarianism; it was more of a gradual shift. Perhaps part of me was drawn to the idea of doing something that might make me seem more interesting, and I also believed that being vegetarian would encourage healthier eating habits. With some heart issues in my past, I’ve become more intentional about my diet. I don’t hold anything against eating meat; I simply recognize that avoiding it is better for the environment—and ultimately, better for my health as well.

3. Became goth- I had never been educated about subcultures. Growing up black meant that any music that wasn’t rap or RnB was deemed “white music”. In middle school, I was bullied heavily for liking One Direction and Justin Bieber. So naturally, I hid my love for Fall Out Boy. There were no outwardly alt people at my school, so I was never exposed to subcultures. While I had friends who shared my taste in music, we were unaware that our interests were part of a broader subculture. I mostly listened to emo and metal, but without knowing any better, I labeled anything alternative as “rock,” unaware that it was more nuanced. Last year, while watching YouTube I stumbled across a goth makeup tutorial and decided to watch because I had been wanting to learn how to make more dramatic/dark makeup work on my features. From there, I was recommended more videos, and my interest was piqued. What made something goth? I began researching and soon found myself deep in the history and musical intricacies of the goth genre. To my surprise, I discovered that goth was a music-based subculture rooted in the very music I had been listening to for years. I continued educating myself and found I deeply resonated with the subculture and its ideologies. The rest is as you know it.

4. Got a piercing- now this may seem tame to a lot of you, but I remember being in middle school, swearing I’d never get any piercings or tattoos. I never imagined it would be something I’d want. It didn’t help that I’ve always had a huge fear of needles—I feel so bad for my piercer; I’m sure I stressed her out. So why did I get a piercing? I love how it looks. I’d been wearing a fake piercing now and then for a while, and I always felt prettier with it. I was hesitant to get a real one because I didn’t want to look too alternative at school. But at some point, I just thought, screw it. Learning so much about the anti-establishment and anti-conformist roots of punk and goth made me realize—why was I trying so hard to please people who have never accepted me? People who have never had a positive opinion of me? I got a piercing because I’m tired of hiding who I am. I’m a little weird and unstable, and who cares?

It's incredible how much can change in a year. I'm so far from the girl who was too afraid to express herself at a new school, still grappling with the sadness and disappointment of a lonely, unfulfilling college experience. I am no longer that girl, and yet, in some ways, I still am. I see her every time I look in the mirror. I remind her that it's okay if people see me now. They *will* see me, and I won't shrink because of it. I won’t. I'm so proud of her, and I know she’s proud of me too.

I’m excited to start school again, knowing that this time, I’ll be entirely myself.

[elialys]

Channeling positive energy for 2024

I have been very listless for at least the last couple of years (if not since 2020 and the whole pandemic mess), resulting in a pretty rough depressive episode that peaked this last November. It's hard to feel motivated to do anything concrete to improve your own life when everything around you is just...bleak. And this world does suck so much, so often, in so many ways.

But then I remember how I innately believe that most people are good, and that I am good, too, and that the one thing that always makes me feel better when I'm low is to do something helpful for someone, or to just be kind if I don't have the spoons for more.

(Putting this big ramble under read more)

I think I've mentioned it here before but I've made the decision to try and get into a new field of work, which involves at least two if not three years of studying. Let me tell you, I'm about to turn 36 in a couple of weeks. It's scary as fuck to do something like this. But this job, if I get into the school I need to get into, will be perfect for me. I'll be helping people who need guidance and compassion basically every day.

The bond I got to build with my students was my absolutely favorite part of teaching, but I got overwhelmed by everything else. I burned myself out in less than four years because I became a workaholic who worked 70 hours a week, never took a breath, tried tried tried, yet never felt like I was doing enough. The pressure was incredible, the 'I have to be around hundreds of people every single day', performing in front of entire classrooms full of kids 6h a day'...it just wore me down. Loved my kiddos to death, loved my science team so much, but then the pandemic hit and I lost a few family members within a few months, and I realized it was time for me to go home after 12 years abroad.

The meanest part of my brain likes to tell me I've spent the last four years being basically a useless human blob, but realistically, I know I wasn't. I had been working my ass off since 2011, when I was in America nannying two young kids all day long then going to school full time at night/weekends, before being hired as a teacher in England for 4 years.

I needed the break, I needed time with my loved ones. I needed to help grieving family members, especially my little sister with ASD, who had to learn to navigate life without her mom, who also developed epilepsy on top of everything else while our father pretended nothing was happening. I needed to spend time with my grandmother, who did so much for me when I was young and who's all alone, now. I'll even go as far as saying I've been working on fixing things with my mother this past year living with her, which was not an easy thing. Still isn't, but it's so much better than it used to be, and she's trying, too.

But I'm ready to get my life "back on track", or at least, to get busier , more proactive, more helpful to others who aren't in my inner circle, because I know that's what I'm good at, and why I'm here.

So, yeah, channeling positive thoughts for 2024. I'm not only going to work on getting into that school in the next few weeks, I also just received an email a couple days ago from an editor I used to work with. She's a writing director somewhere else now, and they need writers for a new webcomic project; she told me she immediately thought of me because they'd always been happy with my work, so I'm going to test for that, too, because why the hell not. Actually getting paid for the stuff I was writing a couple of years ago was the most surreal, rewarding experience of my writer life, and I wouldn't mind that happening again.

I want to give the biggest shoutout to my best friend & other butt cheek, @melusine0811, for helping me navigate those last four years, for always believing in me, and for being so fucking courageous when life is just so damn hard. Lauren, you're the bravest person I know, and forever my Donna Noble.

And because I'm sappy this weekend, awards and all, I'm also sending my thanks to my Australian unicorn, just for existing somewhere out there, for being a role model to me from afar these last thirteen years, for being another perfect example of people persevering no matter what, doing the things they love, while always trying to be kind to others in the process. I don't believe in much, but I believe in karma. You do good deeds, good things will happen to you.

Be kind to each other, my lovelies. Always be kind.

[brightbeautifulthings]

Katzenjammer by Francesca Zappia

"They're all so dark, Dad said one day, watching over my shoulder as I worked at the kitchen table. Why don't you paint things like a blue sky, or a field of flowers, or a bird flying on a breeze? Something happy that your mom can put on the fridge. She can put these on the fridge, I said. Maybe just one flower? he asked. There are no flowers where I live, I said."

Year Read: 2023

Rating: 4/5

About: Cat has been stuck in School for as long as she can remember. The hallways slowly expand and contract with School's breathing, the showers run red with blood, and the students have divided themselves into changed and unchanged. While the unchanged hide in the fortress of administration, Cat and her friends haunt the courtyard and hallways. Her best friend is turning into cardboard, and Cat's face has become a cat mask made of her own hardened flesh. There are no doors or windows in or out of School, and something is hunting them down one by one in the hallways. To escape, Cat will have to understand why they're trapped in the first place. Trigger warnings: Some triggers are listed at the end of the review because they include spoilers. Character death, guns, violence, blood/gore, dismemberment, body/eye horror, bullying, slut-shaming, vandalism.

Thoughts: Thanks to @ninja-muse for recommending this book, since I'm not sure I would have found it on my own. This is probably my favorite Francesca Zappia novel to date, and one of the best novels on this subject I've ever read (more on that after the spoilers). However, I believe it's best to go into it not knowing much more than the description provides. This book works extremely well as a slow reveal. What starts out as a mindfuck becomes slow understanding as we realize more or less alongside Cat what is happening in School, and you'd be doing yourself a disservice to read the spoilers if you plan to read this. However, it covers a number of very heavy and potentially triggering topics (and it's difficult to gush about how I think it works without giving things away), so I'll include those thoughts at the end. I can't stress it enough though. If you're not easily triggered, stop here and go read this book!

This is also one of the best examples of uncanny horror that I've read in a long time. Zappia expertly manages to capture the quality of a nightmare without sacrificing the continuity. School is creepy and semi-sentient, and the changes it brings about in half the students are a study in body horror. Perhaps even more terrifying are the parallels it draws to some very real life horrors such as bullying and, indeed, I found the flashback chapters of Cat's surfacing memories of her former life of being targeted, bullied, and slut-shamed at school more difficult to get through than the surreal scenes of hacked up bodies or bloody showers in School. Real life horror always affects me a lot more than the supernatural, and Katzenjammer does an excellent job of balancing both. The ending is cathartic and effective, and there's less of a plot twist than a sort of inevitable, dawning horror-- which is honestly the best kind.

SPOILERS SPOILERS SPOILERS. TURN BACK BEFORE IT'S TOO LATE.

Remember how I said that real life horror is always worse than the supernatural or the uncanny? I stand by that statement. Zappia draws such excellent parallels to real life in her uncanny School that it's almost impossible not to realize before Cat does that the traumatic event that put them there was a school shooting. I've read a couple YA novels that handled the subject fine, but I don't think any of them capture it as well as this one. We need something like the supernatural School and the horror of bodies changing in ways we can't explain to fully grasp the senseless horror of gun violence. Killing children makes no more sense than hallways that breathe or girls who turn into their cat masks. It takes Cat the entire novel to understand the horror and absurdity of what's been done to her and to accept it-- that there are reasons but not excuses, and that we will never know all of them. I cried a little at the end, but I think the real life horror of it is too big for tears. Instead, it's a feeling that will sit with me long after I've turned the last page.

[mywordhaven]

The Road Ahead - ch 3 | Frankie Morales x female reader

Previous Chapter

Throughout most of your married life, you've dedicated yourself to waiting for Frankie. After each deployment, you patiently anticipated his return home, longing for the moment when he would be by your side once again. You yearned for him to open up to you during those nights when nightmares consumed his thoughts, hoping that he would find solace in sharing his pain with you. And as his addiction spiralled out of control, you hoped that he would recognize his problem and seek help. Yet, despite your countless protests and pleas, you now find yourself waiting for him once more as he ventures off to Columbia doing God knows what.

But this time is the last. Resolved, you make a solemn promise to yourself: You will never wait for Frankie again.

Rating: M for Mature (18 + / no minors allowed)

Word Count: 6.9K (wut)

Warnings: Applicable to the entire fic / PTSD, drug use and addiction, postpartum depression, abusive familial relationships, self-hatred, hard relationship to food, unhealthy coping mechanism, explicit sexual content, violence, mentions of suicidal thoughts, super angsty guys (more warnings will be added if necessary).

Summary: Everything comes to a head after Tom's memorial.

Notes: Hey everyone, thank you so much for the comments, likes and reblogs! I am really happy that this little story I had in the back of my mind is resonating with people! Also, sorry for the delay for this chapter, I got busy with dealines at work and essays to write for my summer semester at Uni. Hope you all love this one, these is some smut in this chapter but I've marked it down with asterixis so if it's not your vibe, feel free to skip it! Hope you all enjoy!!!!!

Ao3 link

Tangled Truths

The early morning sunlight pierces through the window, its bright rays assaulting your eyes and causing you to instinctively furrow your brow. You raise your arm to shield your eyes from the direct light. As your gaze slowly adjusts, you sit up and rest against the headboard. Automatically, you turn to the nearby clock which displays 8:30 am. Christ, you haven’t slept this late in forever!

A surge of adrenaline courses through you as the realization hits you like a bolt of lightning. 8:30 am!?! With no time to spare, you spring from the cozy confines of your bed, your feet carrying you quickly toward the bassinet where Ella sleeps. Yet, as you reach the crib, your heart sinks. The crib is empty. Panic seizes you, causing your hands to start trembling.

Frantically, you cast your gaze around the room and seize the robe laying on the back of the rocking chair. You hastily drape it over your shoulders and make a dash towards the door. Your sprint comes to an abrupt halt as you catch a glimpse of movement emanating from the kitchen. You cautiously approach the corridor, peering into the open space kitchen. And there, right before your eyes is Frankie effortlessly holding Ella in one arm while expertly flipping pancakes with his free hand.

You release a breath, the weight of recent events hanging heavy in the air. That’s right, Frankie had returned just three days ago you think to yourself, hardly believing it still. It still feels surreal to see him moving about the house as if nothing had happened. Whatever transpired during his absence, Frankie kept it tightly locked away within himself. And while you knew about Tom's death, as that would have been rather hard to hide, the rest of the story remained veiled in mystery.

Frankie's usual tendency for secrecy seemed amplified this time around, even compared to his previous tour. When he had first stepped foot in the door three days ago, you had resisted the urge to overwhelm him with questions, knowing he needed space to process and readjust. The sheer happiness and relief that flooded your heart at his homecoming had been so overwhelming that all you wanted was to hold him close and never let go. And, truth be told, that's precisely what you both did.

Seated together on the couch, abandoned Chinese takeout containers scattered on the table, you cradled Ella in your arms while Frankie enveloped both of you in his embrace. It was a moment frozen in time, his arm securely holding you close to his chest, creating a cocoon of love and comfort. The minutes and hours blurred together, fading into insignificance as you basked in the warmth and contentment of being together again.

The following day, however, had been fair game. Determined to unravel what happened during Frankie's time in Peru (Columbia?), you persisted with your questioning, probing deeper and repeating inquiries throughout the day. Yet, Frankie remained resolute, his responses akin to a redacted document, the black sharpie obscuring sentences and leaving only vague fragments of meaning visible. Anger coursed through your veins, an emotion that still lingered within you, but a single glance into Frankie's sorrowful puppy eyes caused you to falter. In the end, you relented.

However, there was one matter you refused to back down on. You had made it abundantly clear that Frankie must resume therapy as soon as an appointment would be available. This demand was non-negotiable. If Frankie was unwilling to seek professional help, then he could pack his belongings and go camping on Benny's couch. The ultimatum silenced Frankie and he reluctantly agreed to schedule a therapy session for the following week. And while you hoped this waiting period would encourage him to open up, deep down, you knew not to hold your breath.

Frankie seemed to think that money would cure all of the fresh wounds that had been inflicted and a deposit of $17,000 had been made into your shared account. But, this sum failed to justify the pain Frankie’s absence had wreaked in your marriage. Yes, you were now $17,000 richer financially, but your heart, once overflowing with love, now felt impoverished.

You cautiously step out from the corridor, crossing the threshold and entering the doorway. Almost immediately, Frankie whirls around, his sudden movement accompanied by a disconcertingly vacant expression in his eyes. It's a look that sends a shiver down your spine, a flicker of something unsettling that vanishes almost as quickly as it appears. Frankie’s face transforms in an instant, the familiar contours rearranging into his usual kind and gentle smile.

As you observe him, a realization hits you. Despite Frankie's cheerful smile, something feels off – his eyes don't reflect the same brightness as usual. It's as if there's a mask, concealing a multitude of emotions he's keeping hidden. The air between you grows heavy with unspoken words as your eyes meet, creating an undeniable tension. “I think your pancake is burning,” you say after a beat.

“Mierda!” Frankie flips back towards the stove and moves the smoking pan from the stove. The sudden commotion startles little Ella, who responds with a piercing cry, her distress echoing through the kitchen. Reacting swiftly, Frankie brings his second hand to encircle his baby girl, attempting to soothe her with soft words, "Shhh muñequita, you're alright. Papa didn't mean to startle you. Shhh, you're all good, my little princesa." Despite his best efforts, Ella seems to be in one of her moods this morning, and she remains unrelenting in her growing cries. Panic creeps into Frankie's eyes, his plump bottom lip nervously caught between his teeth, as he watches his attempts at calming her go in vain.

“Give her here, you know she gets extra cranky when she is hungry. Just like someone I know.” It’s a feeble attempt at teasing, but it manages to pluck a small laugh from Frankie.

“I guess having a bottomless stomach is hereditary” Frankie quips as he starts cooing at the fussy baby. His smile slightly dips as his eyes lock back with yours, "I wanted you to sleep in and recover a bit, after all the time I’ve been gone and all the trouble I cause. I'm sorry you have to deal with a dumbass husband," Frankie says hoarsely.

You extend your arms towards Ella, gently reaching out to comfort her. "Don't say things like that, Frankie. You know I’ve never thought of you like that and if I am going to be honest, I am afraid that Benny got you beat in that department" you jokingly retort. You focus your eyes back on Ella, "We have a brand-new baby, and it's natural for babies to cry when things don't go exactly as they want. It's nothing personal; she does the same to me."

With care, you cradle Ella in your arms, your fluffy robe cascading open as you adjust your cami top. Slowly, you expose your breast and guide Ella towards your right nipple. After a few attempts, Ella finally latches on, her tiny mouth finding solace in your embrace. "Someone's a hungry little peanut," you whisper affectionately, observing her now peaceful expression as she feeds. "Good job, my love. You're doing so well," you softly coo.

As Frankie clears his throat, your gaze lifts, meeting his intense gaze directed towards you and Ella at your breast. In his eyes, a flicker of desire ignites, and something deep within you twists, causing your thighs to involuntarily clench. The realization of the tension between you two fills the air, and you can't ignore the fact that it has been a long time since you were last intimate. Between the demands of the birth and Frankie's absence, you had either been unable or unwilling to revisit that more carnal aspect of your relationship.

Yet amidst the difficulties of your current situation, there is an undeniable longing within you for Frankie. More than anything you yearn for him, you yearn for his words to ease the doubts and insecurities of motherhood, you yearn for his touch to bring you back to life. You yearn for the fire that would consume you whenever your lips met. When you kissed, it was a display of fireworks, an unstoppable blaze that burned bright.

As you reflect on everything that you miss, a warm sensation stirs within you, causing your tongue to instinctively glide over your lips. Memories flood your mind, vividly recalling the countless moments when Frankie would skillfully guide you to the height of pleasure, one that you had never been able to reach with anyone else. Frankie was always centred on you, deriving his own pleasure from your own. He was a man who revelled in pleasing you, never content until he knew you were fully fulfilled.

"Mi cielo..." Frankie's voice escapes as a raspy breath, sending a shiver down your spine. Your own breath becomes trapped within your lungs, and a small whimper escapes your lips. In an instant, Frankie crosses the distance, closing the gap between you. With utmost tenderness, he cradles your cheeks in his large, warm hand, his touch cautious and gentle, mindful of Estrella who continues to nurse at your breast, blissfully unaware of the charged atmosphere that envelops her parents.

"Dios mío, eres tan hermosa," Frankie whispers softly, his words filled with adoration. Carefully, he leans down and gently presses his lips against yours. In that moment, a burst of fireworks explodes within, engulfing you both in a passionate embrace. You melt into his touch, longing to run your fingers through his soft curls and deepen the kiss, but the presence of little Estrella reminds you to be cautious. As you part your lips to guide him further, Ella interrupts with a frustrated cry, likely displeased at no longer being the center of attention.

Frankie and you share a chuckle at Ella's adorable outrage. His smile lingers on your lips as he suggests, "After our little princess Estrelita has had her fill, maybe we should put her down for a nap. What do you say, mi cielo?"

"It's not even 9 am, Frankie," you giggle, playfully nudging his nose with yours.

With a longing gaze, Frankie whispers, "There is nothing I desire more right now than to hold you in my arms, in our bed. I've missed you so much, mi cielo, and I don’t think I’ll be able to contain myself any longer.” As he speaks, each word is punctuated by a tender kiss to your lips. "You have no idea how incredibly" kiss. "irresistible" kiss. "And utterly perfect" kiss. “You truly are.” Frankie starts peppering your throat with affectionate kisses, you playfully guide him backward, gently interrupting “Let me put her to bed, my love, and then I'll let you show me just how much you've missed me."

As you enter the tiny nursery, you observe Ella, her eyes drooping and a serene expression adorning her face. It seems, for once, your little peanut's sleeping pattern is aligning with your needs. Carefully, you place her in the large bassinet, a gift from your mother who, upon hearing the news of your and Frankie's pregnancy, had sent it as your baby shower gift. That day, she had bragged how she knew what would be best for her first granddaughter. She had even gone further and declared how unsure she was that an ex-military man and a librarian could afford anything for a newborn like she could. Little did she know that you seldom use the overpriced cradle, opting instead to keep Ella close to you. During Frankie's absence, it was more convenient to have her in your room, and Frankie's mother had gifted you a cherished family heirloom—a cradle crafted by Frankie's grandfather. And since this gift held no ulterior motives, except for love, it had felt right for little Ella. So, your mother’s cradle remained for the most part, untouched in a nursery that also remained mostly untouched. However, today you were willing to make an exception.

As you gently lay Estrella down, you whisper, "Now, my love, be good for mama and papa." Planting a kiss on her tiny nose, you quietly retreat from the room, mindful not to disturb her. As the door softly shuts behind you, a hand suddenly grabs you from behind, gently pushing you against the opposite wall. Frankie's mouth hungrily seeks yours, and you feel yourself being enveloped in his embrace. His towering presence dwarfs your smaller frame, and you melt against him, surrendering to his large comforting presence.

***“Mie cielo, amor de mi vida” Frankie pants against your lips, his hands caressing up and down your sides before he eagerly grasps a handful of your breast. You instinctively hiss as your breasts remain tender from nursing.

Concern fills Frankie's eyes as he stops, asking, "Am I hurting you?" Shaking your head, you reassure him, "They're just a bit tender, that's all." A lazy smile spreads across Frankie's face as he murmurs, "I'll never tire of them." He bends his head toward your open cleavage, lavishing hungry, open-mouthed kisses upon them. "They were amazing before, but now they're simply breathtaking. I could spend a lifetime between them, and it would be a life well-lived."

A smile graces your lips as your head gently meets the wall behind you. Frankie's words wrap around you like a warm embrace. "You are a charmer, Mr. Morales," you remark with a hint of playfulness. In response, Frankie loudly releases your nipple with a loud pop and whispers against your now wet breast, "Only for you, Mrs. Morales.”

Frankie's lips caress your sensitive nipple with a gentle puff of air, eliciting a shiver of pleasure that courses through your body. His lips continue their tantalizing journey, gradually trailing down your front as he peppers your skin with tender kisses. Each touch ignites a fire within you.

You let yourself surrender to the intoxicating sensations of Frankie's lips. Every nerve ending awakens under his touch, sending waves of pleasure coursing through you. His kisses create a symphony of desire, each one building upon the last until you're consumed by aching longing.

"Please, Frankie," you plead breathlessly, the urgency in your voice echoing your desire. Frankie pauses his ministrations, his face level with the apex of your thigh, his eyes meeting yours with a mixture of longing and adoration. Despite the satin fabric of your pyjama shorts separating you, you know he can smell how wet you are right now.

“What is it mi cielo? Is this too much for you? Do you want me to stop?” Frankie teases as he grasps the waistband of your shorts with his teeth. Your breath hitches, caught between a gasp and a moan, as Frankie slowly lowers the fabric, revealing the mound of your sex. The cool air kisses your exposed skin, while his nose softly nuzzles against your soft flesh, his warm breath cascading over you.

"Don't you dare, Francisco," you shakily breathe out. The only response is Frankie's chuckle which resonates in the air. His eyes, filled with desire, never leave your face as he slowly drags your shorts down your trembling legs, exposing your most intimate self to his hungry gaze. Frankie’s steady hand moves toward your dripping sex, his fingers brushing against your slick folds, collecting the evidence of your arousal. Frankie brings his glistening fingers to his mouth, his eyes locked with yours, amplifying the raw intimacy of the moment. His lips part, and his tongue swirls around his own digits, sucking them in with an obscene sound that sends shivers of anticipation coursing through your entire being.

“You taste so good mi cielo. Even after all these years, there is nothing sweeter than you. Fuck you drive me crazy. I can’t escape you, you’re in my thoughts all the time; you haunt every corner of my mind. You consume me entirely, body and soul. I am nothing without you, and I don’t want to think about the kind of man I would be without you. I promise mi Cielo that It’ll never happen again. This is it, you, Ella and me. Tell me you believe me, mi cielo. Please, tell me you believe me, I need to hear you say it.”

Your mind struggles to function properly as his lips explore every inch of your body, except the one place that aches with desire. The maddening anticipation builds as he teases you.

"Frankie, please," you whimper, your hands tangling in his soft curls, desperately trying to guide him to your dripping core. But Frankie remains steadfast. Instead, he positions himself at the junction of your thigh and gently implores once more, "Tell me you believe me, mi cielo. Please, tell me you believe there is nothing I need more than to be with you until the end of time."

"IbelieveyouIbelieveyou. Ohhhhhhhh I believe you Frankie I swear!" you chant, and as soon as the words escape your lips, you sense Frankie's smile against your fevered skin. "I love you, mi vida" he whispers softly before finally burying his head between your thighs.

Frankie eagerly laps at your core like a man starved. With previous lovers, you had never encountered one who genuinely enjoyed giving oral, treating it as a burdensome chore. But Frankie was different. Expertly, he locates your engorged clit, playfully teasing it with a few licks, while slipping his index finger inside you. Your walls tighten around his finger, and you release a quivering breath of pleasure.

"That's it, buena chica," Frankie whispers. "You know I'll give you exactly what you want. You need to take it slow and steady. We can't rush this. Be a good girl and take it the way I give it to you. I want to savour every moment of this perfection." Frankie always enjoyed guiding you through sex. In another life, dirty talk would have felt embarrassing, but with Frankie, his words only intensified your craving for him.

Frankie steps back from your core, his face wet with your pleasure. A whine of discontent escapes your lips, but he quickly grabs your buttocks, lifting you slightly and positioning your legs over his shoulders. As he lifts you up, you feel the air being knocked out of your lungs, and Frankie resumes his work like a man on a mission. Using the wall for support, you feel weightless on Frankie's strong shoulder.

The most obscene sounds escape Frankie as he swirls his tongue around your clit.

"Frankie, I'm so close! Oh my God, Frankie!" you whine, still trying to stay quiet with the baby asleep literally next door.

"Buena, mi cielo! Come on, mi vida, you know what you need! You know what I need!" Frankie pants against your core. As he watches you helplessly thrash over him, the coil deep within you tightens. Frankie sneaks one of his hands up to your belly and presses hard, intensifying the coil even more.

"Oh my God! I'm coming, I'm coming, I'm coming!" Your orgasm nearly knocks you out, and you feel yourself slump forward. But Frankie is there to catch you. He embraces you warmly, his patchy beard still wet from all the attention, and he whispers sweet nothings in your ear.

"Te amo, mi cielo. I've made so many mistakes in my life. I've wronged you and Ella. I wasn't there when I should have been, and I made choices that I'm not proud of. But now, I'll be here. I'll be a better man for you and Ella, and I'll do everything in my power to keep you both safe." He speaks these words into your ear, and you feel his warm tears landing on your shoulder.

You reach out and grab him by the neck. "I love you, Frankie, and nothing will ever change that." You softly pet his beard “Take me to bed my love.”

__________________________________________________________

3 weeks later

Black was never your colour, or so you once confided in Frankie. Every time you wore it, you felt like an old Matron from those black-and-white Italian movies you both love. Frankie had playfully quipped while nipping at your ear "If I start misbehaving are you going to punish me with a wooden spoon? Slap me right on the ass with it? That’s a scenario we could explore" You had been overheated the entire day after that.

But today was a different matter altogether. Laughter was absent from the scene. Frankie stood at the front of the room, wearing his most formal suit, sporting a distraught expression mirrored by the others in attendance. On either side of him stood the Miller brothers, Will with his arm resting on his shoulder and Benny standing solemnly to his left.

The sight of the typically strong and capable trio so devastated struck you deep in your gut. Particularly Benny, who had always been like an overexcited puppy—confident, golden and a touch cocky. You remember how Benny had been the one who approached you all those years ago at the bar while you were celebrating the final submission of your master's thesis with a friend. That night, Benny had confidently strutted over to your table and struck up a conversation. Although you could see that your friend had been drawn to him, Benny had gone all out to convince you to dance with him.

And even though he was one of the most handsome guys you had seen in a long while, Benny wasn’t really your type. You didn't feel that spark with him—the one they all speak of in movies or in magazines. So, you did the sensible thing and tried to gently let him down by using the classic excuse of not wanting to leave your friend alone. But Benny had been undeterred. He turned around and excitedly shouted, "Fish, get your ass over here!" Your eyes followed Benny's call, and your throat went dry. Frankie ambled over to your table with a shy smile on his face. Sporting his signature cap and a faded gray Henley shirt accentuating his broad shoulders. Frankie immediately captivated you. And as Benny grabbed Frankie by the neck and introduced him as his brother from another mother, you hadn’t been able to tear your eyes away from him.

Your gaze met Frankie's. Everything around you faded, and an electric volt charged the air. For the first time in your life, you decided to take control, disregarding anyone else. Turning to your friend, you suggested, "You love '80s pop. Why don't you go with Benny and take a turn on the dance floor? I'm still recovering from today’s excitement, so I think I'll sit back and grab another drink." Your friend needed no further encouragement and swiftly took Benny's arm, rushing to the dance floor before anyone could intervene.

Frankie looked at you, appearing somewhat dazed. "I think Benny wanted to dance with you. I'm usually the one on call when he needs someone to look after the friend of whomever he's interested in," he remarked. You smiled and replied, "Maybe, but Benny isn't the one I'm interested in.” You playfully played with the obnoxious parasol on the rim of your glass “I think Benny shouldn't use his handsome friend as his wingman. It kind of defeats the purpose of getting the girl, don’t you think?" Frankie bashfully smiled at your words, raised his glass, and clinked it with yours, his confident smile shining through. "To drinking with the most beautiful girl here." And from that moment, you became Frankie's, and he became yours.

Shaking yourself out of your reverie, you turn to Molly, who is tearfully expressing gratitude to the guests for attending the memorial. People offer their condolences and share kind words about Tom. Some of them you recognize from Frankie's time in the army, having crossed paths at various functions. Others are unfamiliar faces. Sensing that Molly was growing overwhelmed, you start rubbing comforting circles on her back.

When the latest person pays her their respects and leaves for Tom’s casket, you whisper in Molly's ear, asking if she needs a moment. She shakes her head, her voice filled subdued but resigned.

"I just want all of this to end. The girls need to start healing, and I know this is the first step. But it’s so hard and it won't get easier. It feels like the pain won’t ever end. I know I have to be strong for the girls, but I don’t know if I’ll be able to hold it together.” She quiets a moment “At least we got to say goodbye."

You offer a sad smile. "It’s ok to be sad Molly. No one expects you or the girls to bounce back after that. You need time to heal and if you ever need anything, you know I'm here, right? We are all here for you, don’t think for a minute that any of us will let you go through all of it, alone. If you need Frankie and me to take care of the girls for a little while, we'd be more than happy to."

Molly tearfully looks back at you, her voice filled with grief. "Thank you. I appreciate it. Honestly, you've cooked us enough food to sustain the three of us through a nuclear winter. You've done so much already."

"Don’t even think about that Molly. Right now, you and the girls are most important, and I am right here for whatever is to come. I am not going anywhere, I promise.”

"Thank you. I don't know what I would've done without you, Frankie, Will, or Benny. You've all been so helpful. Are the boys still planning to go to Robinson’s Sport after the service?" She asks.

You let out a quiet snort. "Yeah, Frankie said it used to be their favourite spot to get drunk when they were back on leave. They thought it would be fitting to say their own goodbye to Tom in their own way. You're welcome to come if you want, you know. I'll be the DD, and I know they'd all be thrilled if you joined."

Molly shakes her head. "Tell them thank you, but after the day we've had, the girls and I will fall asleep the moment we get home."

You nod in understanding, but your conversation is interrupted by a distant relative offering their condolences to Molly. Your eyes search the sea of black until they find Frankie in a corner, fidgeting with his tie. When your eyes meet, he offers a sad smile that you return.

You really hope that tonight will bring some peace to him.

______________________________________________________________

You rub your temple tiredly, attempting to focus on the story Benny is telling at the table. The bar is unusually loud for a Wednesday evening, and after the day you've had, it's becoming increasingly challenging to concentrate.

Seated at the table are the five of you—the original trio, along with yourself and Will's new girlfriend, who has proven to be a delightful addition to your little group. Emmy had entered the picture barely 2 months before Will had left to do God knows what in Colombia. It hasn’t seemed to faze her as now, she sits quietly, attentively listening to Benny's tales from back in their army days while holding Will’s hand and sending loving looks his way.

"And then guess who the fuck came out of the barn with his pants around his ankle, getting chased down by a fucking chicken!" Benny paused for dramatic effect. "Fucking Will 'Ironhead' Miller! More like Leadhead, am I right?" Will could only shake his head affectionately. "What can I say? The chicken literally caught me with my dick out. Couldn't even take a piss in peace." Everyone starts laughing at the story, even Frankie, who had been quiet for most of the night, managed a smile.

"Tch, I'm pretty sure you were doing something else behind that barn." Benny accompanied his words with a crude hand gesture, eliciting audible groans from everyone at the table and a giggle from Will’s girlfriend. "Fuck, Redfly was pissed that day. Dumbass over here gave away our position and we had to hike through the fucking jungle for 10 days. No coms, no food, no prep time, N.A.D.A. Just because Will Miller wanted to rub one out."

Benny's words bring silence to the table. Frankie suddenly down his beer and speaks up. "I'm gonna get another one. This round is on me. Anyone want a refill?" Everyone at the table nodded in agreement, even Benny, who looked subdued after receiving a scathing look from Will. Frankie turned to you and asked, "Want anything, mi cielo?" You tap your empty glass with your finger and smile softly at him. "Another Shirley Temple, please, mi love." Frankie nodded and planted a kiss on your forehead before making his way toward the busy bar.

Silence stretched over the table as you absentmindedly fiddled with your paper straw. Will cleared his throat before offering you a smile. "Thank you again for being the DD tonight. We all really appreciate it."

"It's my pleasure, Will. Today was tough for all of you, and you need to bid farewell to Tom properly. And there is no better way to say goodbye than by getting drunk out of your mind, then I am more than happy to provide my driving services.” You smile teasingly “I'm sure he would have loved tonight." While you hadn't been particularly close to Tom, you knew the man had at least loved two things: football and beer. And you think that yes, he would have definitely enjoyed getting drunk with his brothers (minus one) with ESP reruns in the background.

Benny flashed you a smile, his eyes gleaming playfully. He then proceeded to toss one of the tiny napkin balls he had been crafting all night. With a quick reflex, you ducked to the side, evading the incoming projectile. You burst out laughing at Benny’s childlike antics.

As you regained your composure, you playfully pointed a finger at Benny. "Nice try, but you'll have to do better than that!"

Benny chuckled as he raised an eyebrow. "Oh, you think you're quick, huh? Well, let's see if you can dodge this!" Swiftly, he crumpled another napkin into a ball, before launching it in your direction. The napkin ball connected with your face, eliciting laughter from everyone at the table. Playfully nodding your head at Benny, you vowed, "You might have gotten me this time, but I'll get you later!"

Benny grinned, proudly flexing his arms. "You can't beat this, baby! I'm the strongest and fastest one here!" Will interjected with a fond tone, "Sure you are, bro, sure you are."

A momentary lull descended upon the table as each person searched for something to say. Suddenly, Benny's expression turned serious. "I wanted to thank you too." Uncertain of his intent, you replied, "No worries, Benny. You know I never mind being the designated driver..."

"Not that," Benny interrupted, "I meant with Fish." Perplexed, you wondered where he was going with this. Benny continued, "Yeah. It was real hard for Fish, what happened to Tom and all that shit that went down in Colombia. He took it the hardest out of all of us. So, it was good to know that he has a woman like you to look after him."

Chewing on your lips, you say. "I love Frankie, Benny. I'll never stop loving him, and I'll always do my best to care for him when I can. You don't have to worry." Benny smiled back; his relief evident. "Yeah, I know you are. Fuck, we were real scared that you were gonna bounce on Fish after this one. But I'm so glad you didn't."

"Even if I wasn't 100% on board with him going with you guys, I respected his decision to go. It wouldn't have been fair to him or Ella to just leave. And anyway, I know you guys are a package deal. Wherever one of you goes, you all go," you replied, trying to sound confident.

"Yeah, but still, with the coke thing, I was sure that was going to be it, you know," Benny admitted, a tinge of guilt in his voice.

"Benny..." Will interjected, his tone urging caution.

You observed the silent conversation between the two brothers, sensing there was more to the story. "What are you talking about? You don't have to look so worried, Will. I know about the coke. You know I was the one who found him after his license got revoked." Discomfort settled in the air, and your gaze shifted to Will's girlfriend, who seemed determined to occupy herself with her now watered-down vodka soda.

"Yeah, that's what Benny meant. Don't pay attention to him," Will interjected, attempting to diffuse the tension that hung in the air as Benny looked guilt-stricken.

"Are you two lying to me?" you asked after a brief pause. "Is there something you guys are not telling me?"

"Look..." Benny started, but Will cut him off abruptly. "Shut up, Benny. It's not your place to involve yourself where you don't belong," Will said with displeasure.

"Bullshit! Fish told us he was going to tell her! How could I have known he wouldn't tell her? This ain't my fucking fault! She has a right to know!" Benny's frustration spilled out; his words laced with anger.

"This is none of your business, Catfish will talk when he is ready," Will interjected once again, his teeth clenched in frustration.

"SHE would really like to know what the fuck is going on!" Tears welled up in your eyes as you pleaded, "Benny... Will... You have to tell me what's going on. Is Frankie okay? What should he have told me that he hasn't?"

Will shook his head, but Benny appeared undeterred. "Fuck you, Will! You don't get to tell me what I can or can't tell her. She's my friend too, you know!" Benny's voice trembled with a mix of anger and concern. He took a deep breath, his expression softening, "After the mission was over, the day we were flying out, we found Frankie in his room. He was half passed out on coke. He completely lost the plot for a bit you know. We were real worried, but after we got him down his high he promised us he would tell you, that you would figure it all out together. He felt bad about it all, kept crying about you and Ella and shit. I know he didn't mean to take it, it's just... with Tom's death, he blames himself for what happened, and I guess it just got too hard for him, you know?

The world comes to a screeching halt. Your head spins incessantly, threatening to make you sick or collapse right there on the floor. Then, a comforting hand lands on your upper back, and Will's soothing voice cuts through the chaos, finding its way to your ears.

"I know Fish was planning to tell you. I apologize for Benny putting his nose where it doesn’t belong.” His words are accompanied by a glare in Benny’s direction who flinches “You know how difficult things can be for people like us, especially with everything that happened with Redfly’s death... It was just too much. But you know Frankie loves you more than anything in this world. He never intended to hurt you or Ella. It’s just sometimes, our inner demons overpower us and we are helpless against them."

Frankie promised.

"If he truly loved me, he wouldn't have done that," you manage to whisper. Breathing becomes a challenge—either too fast or barely happening at all. You refuse to have a nervous breakdown in the middle of a bar on a Wednesday night! Hastily reaching into your purse, you snatch your keys and turn to face Will. "I have to leave. You guys can take an Uber, and I'll cover the cost. I'm really sorry, but I just can't stay."

Will gazes at you with a tinge of sadness. "It's all right. We'll be okay. I just think you should wait for Fish. I don't think you should drive in your current state."

Frankie lied.

"I'll be fine. I can't stay, Will. I can't," you repeat before abruptly rising from your seat. You offer a fleeting wave to the table before sprinting toward the exit, tears streaming down your face.

Frankie promised. Frankie lied.

"Nice going, Benny!"

"Shut up, Will! How was I supposed to know?!"

______________________________________________________________

Frankie impatiently taps his fingers against the countertop, frustration building as he watches the bartender cozy up to one of the girls at the bar, completely ignoring him for the past 15 minutes.

"Excuse me, how much longer is it going to take?" Frankie asks, trying to conceal his annoyance.

"Busy night, buddy. It'll take however long it takes. If you don't like it, find somewhere else to go," the bartender retorts, not tearing his eyes away from the seductive blonde perched on the barstool.

Frankie lets out a sigh, his fingers fidgeting restlessly. He starts to reach into his pocket but stops himself halfway through. He knows nothing good would come from that. "But no one would find out, just a quick one in the bathroom. Not enough to get fucked, but enough to survive today," Frankie's mind tempts him. Damn, today had been tough. Seeing Molly and the girls, seeing you trying to console them, knowing it was all his fault. Like always, his mind starts going down that bleak rabbit, telling him how he should have stood firm with Tom, how he knew that damn plane wouldn't make it. But he had been weak, spineless. Greed had clouded his judgment—the allure of money too strong to resist. Frankie takes a deep breath, counting backward from ten to calm himself.

Finally, the bartender sets the glasses down in front of Frankie, then turns back to the blonde, who appears to have unbuttoned even more of her shirt, if that's even possible.

Frankie makes his way back slowly, careful not to spill anything, maneuvering through the crowded sea of bodies until he reaches the table where everyone is seated—everyone except you. Probably in the bathroom, he thinks. Frankie places the drinks on the table, tension rising in his body as he gazes at his brothers. Will buries his face in his hands, his girlfriend rubbing his lower back, while Benny stares straight ahead, anger etched on his face.

"What the hell is wrong with you two?" Frankie asks, pushing Will's drink toward him.

"Ask Benny," Will replies curtly. Benny's scowl deepens, and Frankie raises an eyebrow.

"What's going on, man? Is everything alright?"

"You're such a fucking idiot, Fish!" Benny explodes.

"What the fuck is your problem, pendejo?"

"My problem is that out of all of us you have it all: a wife who loves you, a little girl who looks at you like you hung the fucking moon, a nice place but you can't help to do everything to fuck it up!" Benny rages. Frankie feels himself grow pale.

"Where is she, Benny?"

"How was I supposed to know you didn't tell her anything?! You're always preaching about how open you are with her! About seeing a shrink and going to your meetings and all that bullshit! Were those all lies, Fish? Have you been lying to your own brothers like you’ve been lying to your wife?

"That's enough, Benny," Will interjects, attempting to diffuse the situation. "You've said enough."

"WHERE IS SHE!" Frankie's voice booms as his hands slam loudly on the table, causing drinks to topple and spill everywhere. The bar falls silent after Frankie's outburst.

"Go back to your drinks, there is nothing to see.” Comes Will’s voice filled with the authority of a man who spent years in active service. “She went home, Fish. I told her to wait for you, but she wouldn't listen. I'm sorry," Will tries to reach out, but Frankie shrugs him off.

"You always wanted her, didn't you, Benny? And now you thought that because we were going through a rough patch, you could just swoop in?! I have a child with her, you fucking bastard! I love her!"

"You TOLD us you were going to tell her! How was I supposed to know you were a lying asshole on top of a goddam deadbeat?"

Frankie springs out of his seat, grabbing Benny by the collar of his dress shirt. "Go fuck yourself, Benny." Frankie storms out of the bar and opens his phone. He finds your contact and hovers over your picture, where you're smiling widely, holding Ella in your arms, looking directly at the camera—directly at him. Frankie presses the call button, but it goes straight to voicemail.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck." As Frankie orders an Uber, he can only hope that you'll give him another chance, even though he knows he's far from deserving it. Far from deserving you.

After a 35-minute ride, Frankie arrives home, 15 minutes longer than he would have liked. He leaps out of the car and forcefully opens the door.

"Mi cielo?! Mi cielo?!" Frankie shouts frantically, searching around desperately. He doesn't have to look far though. You're sitting at the kitchen table, three small bags filled with white powder in front of you. Frankie's face drains of colour.

"I want you to explain whatever the hell this is, Frankie. And no lies this time."

[mariska]

had a very long busy day yesterday so i didnt get to make a lil post abt this (and i have also had a very busy month in general so i am like. Incredibly Burned Out Currently Anyways lol) BUT! as of yesterday i FINALLY have managed to get an official, legally recognized, medical professional assigned autism diagnosis. it's taken almost exactly 12 years of absolutely exhausting work and effort on me and my family/medical support system's part, and i will always wish that i'd been 'officially', 'professionally' diagnosed so much earlier in life before everything got too difficult for me to attempt to manage myself, but it is so validating and important to me that regardless of whatever happens moving forward in my life now with my combination of mental and physical disabilities, at the very least, i stayed determined through everything and lived long enough to actually see the day that my 27 years of existing as an autistic person was diagnosed, recognized, and officially logged in pretty great detail (along with quite a bit of additional separate diagnoses of additional disabilities i have) in my medical records.

it's all still very surreal to me because at this point in time i truly did not think i would ever get an official diagnosis in my lifetime with all of the hell i've gone through trying to get medical professionals to take me seriously when i have continuously begged to be heard and recognized in my struggles. the man who did my professional assessment this time around (i had one before many yrs ago that was nowhere near as necessarily thorough and resulted in very inaccurate misdiagnosis) was really patient, kind, understanding and respectful not just to me and my struggles but also to me as a person in general, had no big shocked responses to learning that i have 2 moms and was born via known donor dad, completely understood that i have very little genetic familial info about myself because of that and some other specific factors, listened to everything me and one of my moms who was sitting next to me thru the whole evaluation for support had to say, asked very detailed professional questions and used testing material that was geared specifically towards autistic Adults and not elementary school aged children (which has previously been my entire experience with any kind of autism related evaluation/testing in the past despite those past instances being when i was already a young adult at the time)...it took such a long time to get here but i'm very very grateful that i have finally been recognized officially as the person i have always been.

i teared up reading the email that was sent to my moms & me containing the full detailed breakdown of the test and evaluation findings/results because it was the first time in my life that i've ever read such a thorough and accurate description/assessment of Myself, in general. there's a very strange, emotionally charged, but also very positive kind of feeling seeing over 20 years of my own lived experiences written in words and presented as evidence of the disabilities i've lived my entire life struggling to survive around with very minimal help or even prior recognition. both my longtime therapist and primary care dr also submitted really detailed, well-described accounts of my disabilities and the details around them to this dr who did this evaluation and reading those accounts in the long results letter was very validating to my understanding of myself, too. i told both my mom that went to the appt with me and my therapist that i have weekly sessions with at my appointment yesterday that it felt like reading a really detailed wikipedia entry about myself in a way because i just have never seen so much accurate information about my entire life written in words like that before. i've spent my entire 20's so far not even feeling like a fully realized human being because of how existentially complicated and exhausting and stress inducing and confusing life in general is to me and i actually feel like A Human Being That Has Always Been Passively Perceived By Other People Around Me As Such now. i don't know how long it takes for my brain to fully process that realization but i'll be slowly finding out from now on. which is just. wild to even say/type outside of my head.

ANYWAYS!!! i will stop rambling now. i just wanted to type out a big ol' life update and fling it into the void on here because it really is an indescribably huge life milestone for me, so i wanted to share it with all of u!

12 years, dude. finally feeling like maybe everything i've been through has been worth it even just for this one accomplishment. i really hope it helps me be able to build some sort of independent life structure for myself from here on out but even if nothing changes i am so relieved to have my basic identity and personhood validated and recognized. i think it all has been worth it even just for that.