#maybe ill put on a mask so i can still go out

[coridallasmultipass]

.

[cringelordofchaos]

Do I "not know who I am" or am I just really insecure and am trying to find a mask to put over myself because despite my best efforts to avoid it, my human nature drives me to put an active effort into having a superficial reputation, rather than letting myself just be natural, and be content with myself without feeling the need to let strangers know who or what I could possibly be?

[clockwayswrites]

City Pigeons - Part 10

WC: 817, Masterpost

Jason sighed as the tablet in his hands flashed with alerts. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“How did the meeting with Black Bat go?” Bruce asked instead of responding, because of course he did.

“You know it went fine,” Jason said, trying not to snap. “Besides, everyone likes her, there was a good chance it was always going to go fine.”

“We both know trauma isn’t always that easy,” Bruce said, his tone carefully modulated to be gentle. It rankled Jason, like it always did.

Jason took a breath and let his chin drop to his chest for a moment. Bruce didn’t mean it like that. He knew that now. This was Bruce trying as best as he was able— it wasn’t just another mask. Bruce just had to put effort into emotions that made it seem forced. Jason pushed away his flair of temper; it was harder to do than he’d like after too much worry and too little sleep.

“Ja—”

“I’m fine. It’s just like you said, trauma isn’t always that easy. I’m fine,�� Jason said as he waved the concern away. “And names. You know we’re sticking to code names still.”

Bruce tilted his head, observing Jason through the white lenses. (That used to rankle too.)

“You thinking there’s a chance he’ll run.”

Jason sighed. He gave an exaggerated shrug to cover the worry that ran through him at the question. “Not run, exactly. I think he doesn’t believe that he can stay— that it’s even on the table. I think that we’re his last hope and he doesn’t believe in hope anymore.”

Bruce didn’t move. Jason gave him time to think that over.

“That’s why he doesn’t want to see… Wayne,” Bruce said, slowly, like he was feeling the idea out. “He doesn’t expect to get anything from him so it’s better to be healed up first.”

Jason shrugged again.

“Figure so. But also once that meeting happens, whatever happens, then all of this,” Jason motioned to the safe house, “is over as far as he knows. If he puts off the meeting, he puts off the risk of losing the first safety that I think he’s hand in a long, long time.”

Bruce’s shoulders hunched and he almost blended back into the shadows by the window. “If he’s already posed for it to go badly…”

“B, that’s not your fault,” Jason said— had to say. “The kid’s been through hell, maybe by his own family, of course he’s going to expect the worst.”

It was a long moment and then Bruce nodded, just once. “What’s the plan?”

If Jason really had his way, the plan would be to deal with all these ill feelings, but that’s not what anyone in the family was good at, him included. It would be what it would be.

“We’ll have BB over again for a meal tomorrow. I’m sure it will keep going well and she can help be on watch that night. We think it’s best to give that a few days before we introduce O or anyone else new, so you have to keep the rest of the horde reigned in,” Jason said pointedly. Then a though occurred to him. “Where is the little spawn anyways?”

“He’s on the roof across the block.”

“Yeah, is he? Because that was a lot of alerts—”

“Hood!”

Jason didn’t think before he was striding across the room towards Danny’s room. The kid was standing in the door. White hair stark in the low light. Green eyes bright.

Glowing.

Wide with fear.

“Danny?”

“Someone else is here,” Danny said. His voice was almost too quiet to hear, but Jason could half swear he felt it in his very bones. Danny reached out and clung onto the sleeve of Jason’s hoodie. A cold settled into Jason’s bones along with the vibration of the soft words. “Someone touched by death. Can you feel them too? They’re not not like us. They haven’t died. They haven’t died, but they reek of death. Hood, what are they?”

“Hey, it’s okay. You’re safe here, remember?” Jason assured Danny automatically. The words rolled out of his mouth without Jason having to even think about them, which was good, because Jason’s mind was still caught on Danny’s words: They’re not like us. They haven’t died. “Some Bats just stopped by to check on us.”

Was it Bruce? Did all of Gotham’s death cling to his shoulders like his cape?

Was it Damian? Was it the stench of the Pits?

Or did Jason miss something else slipping in with all of the other alarms.

“We’ll go check on Nightwing together, alright? I bet he has a little red and black guest who slipped in,” Jason said. He twisted his hand to hold Danny’s. The cold bit at his skin. He didn’t let go.

He hoped he was right.

He had a hard time believing in hope too.

---

AN: A myyyyyyyystery *wiggly fingers*. Gods I'm so tired.

I no longer tag, you can subscribe to the masterpost instead!

[willowsnook]

back to you

hi! can I request angst with a happy ending for Oscar please? Maybe exes to lovers?

Oscar piastri x ex!reader

—--------------------------------------

Three years ago

“So this is really it?” You asked Oscar, your confusion morphing into shock. “But I thought we were so good together?”

Oscar sighed, his arms crossed as he stood in your dorm. “We are good together, but I’m going to be traveling more in F2 and as a reserve driver, so it doesn’t really make sense to continue this.”

“Doesn’t make sense?” Your anger was rising now, threatening to boil over. “We’ve been together for two years, jackass. Does that mean nothing to you? Do you even care about me?”

“Of course, I care about yo,u y/n,” he said, his eyes softening. “But this is my career; I need to put it first.”

“Get the fuck out,” you snapped, and he flinched in surprise, a flash of hurt in his eyes. “Lose my number. I hope you make it to F1 and get everything you ever dreamed of, but I hope you have it all alone.”

That was the last thing you ever said to him, and you didn’t regret it one bit. You met him your first year in college in London and were a perfect match. His dry-humored personality complemented your sassy attitude, and you both had a lot of fun together. If you were being honest with yourself, it was never super serious between you and Oscar. It was nice and fun, maybe a little toxic, but the way he ended it with such nonchalance is why it still irritated you even three years later.

—-----present day—----------

You had hoped that when you accepted the job with McLaren, you and Oscar’s paths wouldn’t cross. After graduating with a marketing degree, you took a position with their partnerships team, meaning your primary responsibilities would be representing McLaren to their sponsors and helping coordinate events. Generally, the events did not involve the drivers, but with it being three weeks in between races, they were expected to attend a small, exclusive happy hour in London. And, of course, you were the lead for the event.

You were wearing a nice pair of brown plaid trousers paired with a sleeveless, high-neck black turtle neck and hair pulled up in a tight bun. You’d done this a million times before, so you weren’t necessarily nervous, but the thought of interacting with Oscar again made you physically ill.

The boys arrived at the venue together, both dressed in their own versions of business professional, and headed to where you were standing with your boss. 

“Hi guys,” she said. “I have to go, but y/n is in charge, so she’ll give you the run-down.” 

The boys nodded as she left before turning to you. Oscar’s mouth opened slightly as he looked at you in surprise. 

“Hey, y/n, I’m Lando,” Lando greeted you with a bright smile. “And this is Oscar.” 

You returned his smile widely. “It’s nice to meet you both.”

Oscar snorted at your response, and your eyes flashed. Lando looked over at him in confusion. 

“Are you really going to act like you don’t know who I am?”

Lando, misreading his comment for being a stuck-up celebrity quip, started apologizing for his teammate’s behavior. 

“I’m sorry, have we met?” You asked, feigning being puzzled and effectively getting under Oscar’s skin. 

“Don’t act like I haven’t had my hands on every inch of your body,” Oscar snapped, eyes narrowed, and Lando’s eyes widened in shock. Your eyes narrowed, and you squared your shoulders at him. 

“If I could burn off my top layer of skin to be pure from you, I would,” you said coldly. “How’s life anyway? Lonely at the top?”

He flinched at your words, and you knew you hit a nerve. In an interview from last year, you'd read that he was struggling with being lonely after joining F1, so you knew that would remind him of your parting words. 

Oscar’s jaw tightened, and his eyes flickered with something that looked like hurt before he masked it with indifference. “Life’s great, thanks for asking. It’s everything I worked for.”

“Everything you worked for?” You scoffed, crossing your arms. “Yeah, I bet it’s super fulfilling to win races and go back to an empty hotel room. Sounds amazing.”

Oscar’s lips parted, clearly taken aback by your jab, but he recovered quickly. “At least I have something to show for my sacrifices. What about you? Working events for McLaren? Sounds like a step down for someone convinced they would end up in New York, working for a top agency.”

It was your turn to flinch; that had been your dream ever since you were a kid, and you were still reeling from the failure of it not happening. But you had one last card to play against him, one you didn’t even want to. 

Lando, who had been awkwardly watching the exchange like a spectator at a tennis match, raised his hands in a desperate attempt to intervene. “Okay, guys, maybe we save this for another time? Or never? Never works too.”

“It is a step-down,” you said icily. “But a lot of dreams died after my dad did.”

It was like someone had thrown a bucket of ice water over Oscar, the way he stiffened at your words. You knew it was shitty, throwing your dad’s death in his face, but he pushed you too far, and the wound was still fresh. 

“Y/n.. I-I didn’t…,” he stuttered, but you raised a hand to cut him off.

“The happy hour is starting now,” you said, trying to regain your composure. “There are only five different companies, so it shouldn’t be too overwhelming. Be nice, be optimistic about the rest of the season, and ask questions about them as well. Find me if you need me.”

With that, you turned on your heel and marched into the venue. Lando and Oscar stood in silence, watching you disappear. Lando was still shocked at how Oscar acted, having never seen his teammate lose his temper like that. 

“So you two dated or something?” He asked cautiously and Oscar shot him an annoyed look. 

“Unfortunately,” he replied shortly. 

“I’ve never seen you so worked up from someone,” Lando commented. 

“She still knows just how to get under my skin,” Oscar muttered before walking in. 

You did what you did best during the event, schmoozing your heart out. It was fun for you, and by the end of the even,t you had forgotten the interaction with Oscar at the beginning. After cleanup, you went into the bar's main area, sitting down to order a martini. 

“Mind if I join you?” A voice asked, and you turned to see Lando standing next to the chair by you. 

“Sure,” you replied. “Have fun tonight?”

“These aren’t my favorite kind of things if I’m being honest,” he admitted, and you nodded. “Our sponsors always treat me like I’m some kind of god when I’m really just, well, me.” 

“I could see that,” you said. “Thanks for doing a good job, though; you make my job easy.” 

“You make it easy for us,” he replied, and you blushed at the compliment. 

He fiddled with his drink as you both sat silently for a bit, and you sighed, knowing what he wanted to ask. 

“Out with it, Norris. I know you want to ask about it earlier,” you said teasingly. 

He blushed before meeting your eyes. “I’ve just never seen him like that. He’s always so well put together and almost polished.” 

“We bring out the worst in each other,” you said, bringing your glass to your lips. 

“But you used to bring out the best?” He offered. 

“Something like that,” you muttered. 

“I’m sorry about your dad,” Lando said, and you felt a wave of sadness wash over you.

“Thank you,” you said softly. “I shouldn’t have said it like that to him; I’m not usually that mean.”

“You were both emotional seeing each other,” Lando said warmly. “I won’t hold it against you.”

“I appreciate that,” you said. “It’s a lot of old feelings resurfacing.”

You gave him a forced smile, and he studied you until you finished your drink. 

“Well, it was good to meet you,” you told him, standing up and slinging on your coat. 

“You too,” he said. “I hope to see more of you.” 

—---------------------------------

A couple of months later, you were cursing Lando for saying that. You had been promoted, and with the new job came new responsibilities, such as managing the sponsors at races. Stepping into the paddock early that Sunday morning, you were greeted by Land,o who had arrived at the same time. 

“Y/n!” He said cheerfully. “Congrats on the promotion.”

“Thanks, Lando,” you sai,d smiling, falling into step with him as you both headed towards the garage. Oscar was already there, talking to another driver you recognized as Franco Colapinto. 

“Hey Franco,” Lando called out. “Have you met y/n?”

Franco turned at the sound of Lando’s voice, flashing a charming smile as his gaze landed on you. “I haven’t had the pleasure,” he said smoothly, extending a hand. “Franco Colapinto.”

You shook his hand, offering a polite smile. “Y/N. Nice to meet you.”

“The pleasure’s all mine,” Franco said, holding your hand a beat longer than necessary. “I don’t know how I missed meeting someone like you before now. McLaren’s lucky to have you.”

Oscar’s jaw visibly tightened from his spot nearby, and he took a step closer, crossing his arms as he observed the scene.

You tilted your head slightly, playing along with Franco’s flirtatious tone just enough to annoy Oscar. “I’m just doing my job, but thanks.”

“Doing it exceptionally well, I’m sure,” Franco replied with a grin. “If you ever get bored working with these guys, let me know. I’m sure my team could use someone with your... expertise.”

Lando let out a low whistle, clearly amused by the unfolding drama. “Careful, Franco. You’re laying it on thick.”

“I’m just being honest,” Franco said with an unapologetic shrug, his eyes never leaving yours.

Oscar finally decided to intervene, his voice cutting through the conversation like a blade. “Shouldn’t you be focusing on your race prep, Franco? Or is flirting your new warm-up routine?”

Franco glanced at Oscar, raising an eyebrow. “Relax, mate. Just being friendly.”

Oscar’s glare hardened. “She doesn’t need your ‘friendly.’ She’s here to work, not entertain your distractions.”

You raised an eyebrow, shooting Oscar a sharp look. “I can handle myself, thanks. No need to play bodyguard.”

Franco smirked, clearly enjoying the tension. “Seems like someone’s a little territorial.”

Oscar’s nostrils flared as he took a step closer, his tone laced with irritation. “I’m not territorial. I just don’t think she needs you wasting her time.”

“Oh, but she’s fine with you wasting her time?” Franco shot back, clearly relishing in provoking Oscar.

“Okay,” you interrupted, holding up a hand. “This is officially ridiculous. Franco, it was nice meeting you. Lando, I’ll see you later.”

You turned on your heel and walked further in the McLaren garage, leaving all three men staring after you—Franco amused, Lando bewildered, and Oscar frustrated. The latter’s hands clenched into fists at his sides, a storm brewing in his eyes as he watched you disappear into the distance. Franco bid both men goodbye, and Lando turned to Oscar with an amused look on his face. 

“Gonna tell me what that was about?” He teased, and Oscar shot him the finger, moving towards his side of the garage. 

After the race, you lingered around hospitality, saying your final goodbyes to sponsored guests before gathering your stuff to head back to the hotel. You just came out of the room when you ran, face first into Oscar. His hands came out to steady you, and you were about to thank him until you realized who it was. 

“Excuse me,” you mumbled, trying to get past him, but his grip on your waist tightened. 

“Can we talk?” He aske,d and you were caught off guard.

“About what?” You asked. “How you were about to rip Franco’s head off this morning for talking to me?”

He rolled his eyes, his calm demeanor fading away. 

"I wasn't going to rip his head off," Oscar muttered, releasing his grip on your waist but not stepping back. "I just didn't like how he was talking to you."

You crossed your arms, eyebrow raised. "And how exactly was he talking to me?"

"Like you were some prize to be won," Oscar said, frustration evident in his voice. "Like you were just there for his entertainment."

"As opposed to how you talk to me?" You shot back. "Like I'm some nuisance you have to deal with?"

Oscar's eyes widened slightly, a flash of hurt crossing his features before he masked it. "That's not... I don't think of you like that."

"Could've fooled me," you said, your voice softer now. "Look, Oscar, we don't have to do this. We can just be professional and cordial. No need to rehash old drama.” 

“If that’s what you want,” he said slowly, and you nodded, shifting to move past him. 

“It is, I’ll see you later.” 

—------------------------------------------------

Brazil

You hated the rain. Well, you didn’t always hate it, but it had rained the day your dad died, so you had hated it ever since. It was the world weepin,g and the memory of you doing the same was still fresh. 

“Are you okay?” Lando asked, catching you staring off in the distance at the front of the garage. It was an hour before qualifying was supposed to happen, and you felt yourself start to slip out of reality. You didn’t say anything, so Lando moved closer, pulling your shoulder so you could face him. His eyes widened, seeing yours full of tears, but you were quick to turn back away. 

“I’m fine,” you said firmly. He started to say something again, but the look you gave him felt like a shot to the heart; you looked so sad, and he didn’t know what to do. You only repeated yourself, “I’m fine.” 

You weren’t fine. You knew you were starting to spiral. The first time it happened, it surprised you. You didn’t consider yourself an emotional person, but something about the rain now made you panic. 

Lando left you and headed straight towards Oscar’s driver's room. Someone on the way told him that qualifying had been pushed to tomorrow, but he didn’t stop his stride. Banging open the door, Oscar looked up, surprised at his teammate’s panic. 

“What’s wrong?” He asked. 

“Something is wrong with y/n,” he said breathlessly. Oscar’s brows furrowed. 

“What do you mean?” He asked.

“I noticed her earlier, just standing and staring out at the rain on the track for literally 15 minutes,” Lando said. “Didn’t move an inch. I went up to her and could tell she was very close to losing it.”

“Did she say anything?” Oscar asked, already standing up and heading towards the door. Despite their current relationship, he knew you very well. He could count the number of times he had seen you cry on one hand. 

Lando shook his head. "No, she just kept saying she was fine, but her eyes... Oscar, I've never seen someone look so sad."

Oscar's jaw clenched as he strode out of the room, Lando hurrying to keep up. They made their way through the garage, scanning for you. Oscar spotted you first, still standing motionless at the front of the garage, staring out at the rain-soaked track.

He approached you cautiously, coming to stand beside you. "Y/n?" he said softly.

You didn't respond, didn't even blink. Oscar glanced back at Lando, who gave him an encouraging nod.

"Y/n, can you hear me?" Oscar tried again, gently placing a hand on your shoulder.

The touch seemed to snap you out of your trance. You flinched, turning to look at him, and the second your eyes met his, you crumpled. He quickly pulled you into his arms as you sobbed, his arm rubbing your back. 

“It’s okay, baby,” he soothed, falling back to your old pet name. “I’m here.” 

You gripped his shirt tightly, trying to calm down, and your sobs soon turned to hiccups. 

“I’m sorry,” you mumble,d trying to pull away but Oscar didn’t let you, keeping you tight against his body. You rested your cheek against his chest as his hand came up to your head, tangled in your hair. Oscar nodded to Lando to tell him that it was okay and Lando disappeared, leaving the two of you alone. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” He asked. 

“No,” you whispered. “Can we go back to the hotel?”

“Of course,” he said, finally letting you go. He collected your stuff and gripped your hand tightly, leading you to where he had a car waiting. The traffic was insane outside the track; the number of people leaving and the weather was a bad mix. The sound of the rain against the windows made your heart start to race again, so without a second thought, you unbuckled your seatbelt and crawled into Oscar’s lap. 

His arms wrapped around you as you snuggled into the crook of his neck. Neither of you said anything for the rest of the ride, and you had calmed down by the time the car pulled up to the hotel. Sliding off his lap, you got out of the car and headed into the hotel, him right behind you. He didn’t want to overstep, but he did not want to leave you alone, so he lingered awkwardly beside you in the elevator. 

“Are you on the same floor as me?” You asked, noticing he hadn’t hit another number. 

“No,” he said, and you nodded, silently giving him the green light. 

You felt like a shell of yourself when you made it to your room, peeling off your wet outer layers while Oscar kicked off his shoes. 

“Let me draw you a bath,” he offered, and you didn’t answer, but he was already moving into the bathroom and turning on the water. 

You stared out the window, shivering, and that’s where he found you minutes later. 

“Come on, baby,” he whispered, gently pulling you towards the bathroom. You followed him wordlessly and let him help remove your clothes, not flinching under his gaze. He’d seen it all before anyway. You stepped into the bath, and he sat next to the tub, watching you as you closed your eyes and leaned back. 

“It was raining when he died,” you said, breaking the silence. “Now, anytime I hear the noise, it’s all I can think about.” 

“I’m sorry, y/n,” he murmured from beside you. 

You took a deep breath, the warm water soothing your nerves. "It was just over a year ago. He was driving home from work, and... a drunk driver hit him. It was pouring rain that day."

Oscar's hand found yours, gripping it gently. "I'm so sorry, y/n. I had no idea."

"How could you?" you said, a sad smile on your face. "We weren't exactly on speaking terms."

A flash of regret crossed Oscar's features. "I should have been there for you."

You shook your head. "It's not your fault. We both said things we didn't mean."

Oscar was quiet for a moment, his thumb tracing circles on your skin. 

“You got your wish, though,” he admitted softly and you looked over at him, confusion in your eyes. 

“About what?”

“I got everything I always dreamed of,” he started. “But I’ve had no one to share it with.” 

“You have Lando and Alex,” you said softly, and he gave you a small smile. 

“It’s not the same,” he said. “Are you ready?” 

He didn’t give you a chance to answer, standing up to grab a towel from nearby. You stood up, letting him wrap it around you and helping you step out of the tub. 

Oscar’s hands lingered at your shoulders as he steadied you, the towel snug around your body. His eyes searched yours, a mixture of guilt and longing in their depths. You could tell he wanted to say something else but hesitated, unsure if this was the right moment.

“Thank you,” you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

“For what?” he asked, his brows furrowed.

“For being here,” you replied, your hand brushing against his as you tightened the towel around yourself. “I didn’t know how much I needed it.”

Oscar let out a small, relieved laugh, shaking his head. “You don’t have to thank me, y/n. I’ll always be here. Even if I don’t always know how to show it.”

You nodded, the warmth of his words spreading through you like the bathwater had. It was the first time in a long while you felt truly seen.

“Come on,” he said, tilting his head toward the bedroom. “Let’s get you comfortable.”

He helped you into one of his oversized hoodies, the fabric soft and smelling faintly of him. It felt like a hug, like safety. You settled onto the bed, pulling your knees up to your chest as Oscar perched at the edge, watching you closely.

“Can I stay tonight?” he asked tentatively, his voice careful, like he didn’t want to overstep.

You nodded without hesitation. “Please.”

He moved to the other side of the bed, slipping off his shirt and grabbing the blanket to drape over both of you. The rain was still falling outside, but the sound didn’t feel as suffocating with Oscar beside you. His arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you close, and you let yourself lean into him.

As you lay there, Oscar's arm around you, the steady rhythm of his breathing began to lull you into a sense of calm. The rain outside seemed less threatening now, more of a gentle backdrop to the quiet moment you were sharing.

"I've missed this," you whispered, barely audible. "Being close to you like this."

Oscar's arm tightened slightly around you. "Me too," he admitted softly. "More than I realized."

You turned in his embrace to face him, your eyes meeting his in the dim light of the room. There was so much left unsaid between you, years of hurt and misunderstanding, but in this moment, none of that seemed to matter.

"Oscar," you started, your voice trembling slightly. "I'm sorry for what I said that day. About hoping you'd be alone. I didn't mean it."

He shook his head, his hand coming up to your cheek. 

“I deserved it,” he said. “I was so caught up in the excitement that I didn’t consider your feelings. I was miserable that first year without you, more than I’d like to admit. This world can be so lonely, but I had too much pride to come crawling back to you.” 

“I wouldn’t have taken you back anyways,” you said honestly. 

“Would you now?” He asked quietly. “Take me back?” 

You looked at him, his eyes looking deep into your own, and thought about it. 

“Maybe,” you said finally. “But you’d have to work for it.”

“Trust me, I will,” he said, pressing his lips against your forehead. 

He didn't feel alone for the first time in what felt like forever. And as you closed your eyes, exhaustion finally catching up with you, you realized that maybe people were right when they said you’d always find your way back to people you loved. 

[fullonfandomindulgence]

please clic for larger images, tumblr compression made these look all blurry. id below the cut

here i am still making mp100 comics in april of 2024. its just such comfort food. im highly normal about mob and tomes friendship

ID: three pages of black and white comics about Mob and Tome from the anime Mob Psycho 100.

panel 1: a leg and an arm extend from out of panel so that the hand on the arm can tie the shoe on the leg. lying on the ground is the other shoe, a cell phone, a keyring, and a polka dot carrying case. on the carrying case rests a sphere with a strange pattern on it. in the top right it says "January."

panel 2: a figure (its tome) pulls on a jacket. visible in front of her are a cabinet and a wall-mounted rack, all messy.

panel 3: with a door in the background, a closeup of tomes hand on her flipphone. the screen says "dialing."

panel 4: tome shrugs on her jacket and, holding her phone against her ear with her shoulder, smiles and says, "Oy, Mob! It's Saturday! Let's go telepath-hunting!"

panel 5: ritsu and mob sit on a blanket on the floor in front of a bookshelf. a little "pause" label extends from off-panel. both of them are holding controllers. ritsu leans against his hand, looking bored, as mob holds his cellphone to say "Hi Tome. Didn't we already find a telepath?" tome responds, "Oh, right."

panel 6: tome and mob dont really know what to say next. they both look cartoony and stupid. "..."

panel 7: tome, looking pained, curls a hand in the air in front of her and says, "Do you want to... walk around the city? Pointlessly?" mob says, "Sure, I guess that's what we normally do."

panel 8: tome looks mad. "No! We walk pointedly! In the direction of telepaths!" she points, pointedly. mobs eyebrows go a little down as he scratches at his face. "It's pretty funny that you were looking for so long when Takenaka was right next to you. For months. And then he left because you were too weird."

panel 9: tome, opening her front door, says, "Y'know what, Mob, maybe I'll invite him instead." Mob says "That's a good idea. Let's see if he can come with us."

panel 10: now exiting onto the walkway in front of her apartment, tome says, looking excited, "Actually I have been investigating something new. We should look for a haunted house!" mob thinks to himself, "Sounds like work..."

panel 11: mob looks skeptical and asks, "In the city?" tome responds, "Yep." behind mob, ritsu unpauses the game (ssb brawl) and starts thrashing mob (ritsu mains lucas, mob mains kirby)

panel 12: tome walks down the stairs of her apartment building to a concrete sidewalk with a row of trashcans nearby. she says, "My first guess is that new shaved ice place on 5th street." mob responds, "Oh." tome says "It's an old building! I think it's haunted!"

panel 13: mob, contented, says, "Okay. I'll meet you at the train station." pleased, tome responds, "Excellent!" ritsu looks back at mob with a mean smile on. the tv screen says "GAME!"

panel 14: mob yells, "Ritsu! What the heck!" tome, at a stoplight, replies, "Sure, he can come too." she presses the walk signal button. "BIP."

End ID.

making this comic i learned that you cant just put masking tape over your mistakes and re-ink on top of it bc the masking tape looks too dark when its scanned in. i guess ill just have to warm up more and be more deliberate when i ink like some kinda loser. or i could become truly insane and start gluing on little pieces of bristol

[boom-butterflyeffect]

WARNING/S - smut, mentions of killing/stabbing, knife play, choking, mr.ghostface kink?, mask kink?, <3

you heard a bang as the lodge door slammed shut, instantly getting your attention as you shot up from the bed. you swore youd locked all the doors before getting into bed and the only other person with a key was josh but hed had to stay late at the smaller cabin, Jessica and Mike's "love den", as he called it. "last minute preparations, babe", he said.

slowly creeping around the corner of the bedroom door you peaked out to see.. nobody. the long hallway was completely.. empty. so you went back into the room and grabbed your boyfriends baseball bat, then made your way into the kitchen followed by the living room. once again seeing.. nothing.

hand falling to the side as you sighed to yourself. maybe you were just way too tired and imagining things, the religious watching and study of horror media finally getting to you, you thought, just before you felt two hands reach around you, grabbing your mouth to silence you and your waist to hold you against them.

you tried as hard as you could to fight them off, not even being able to see who it was that had grabbed you until you heard the familiar laugh of your boyfriend as he let go of you.

“its me, kitten!” he lifted the ghostface mask to reveal a very amused grin on his face and you shook your head at him.

“JOSH! you scared me to death!” you yelled at him, looking down at his baseball bat still in your hand.

“if i was a real intruder id definitely have had to kidnap you.” he said, using the knife he was holding to motion to your clothes. or lack of.

as youd been in bed you were literally in just a small thong and a cropped scream t shirt, how ironic. you roll your eyes, moving closer to him as his arms wrap around you and you pull the mask back down over his face.

“you look.. hot.” you told him and heard a laugh from under the mask.

“you want me to fuck you like this?” he jokes but quickly notices as your eyes change at his words. “oh you do.. you want me to put this knife against your throat and make you beg for you life, kitten?”

“josh..” you whisper out, barely being able to find your voice over the shock you were in from your boyfriends words. youd always had a thing for the ghostface character, among others, and hearing your boyfriend speaking this way was doing something to you.

his hand reaches out and grips onto your throat, pinning you against the nearest wall as he presses the knife above his hand. “what kitten?” he asks and you cant even think, never mind speak to reply to him.

“you better start talking or im gonna have to make you, and im sure you dont want that do you kitten?” he asks, moving the knife to trail down your tummy causing a whine to slip from your lips. “oh maybe you do.. hm? you like how my knife feels against your pretty skin?”

“josh please..” you whine and he laughs, shaking his head at your reaction.

“youre such a little whore. i bet you loved how you felt when you thought i was someone else hm? did it make your little pussy wet to think about me forcing this knife into your skin.. making you beg for your life?”

your breath fell from your lips in a scattered fashion as your chest rose and fell quickly. you couldnt even imagine, he couldnt even imagine, how wet you were right now, how wet he was making you. cheeks reddening as he spoke to you.

“go on kitten, b.e.g.” the knife was pointed in to your skin, pushing hard enough to draw a little blood on to it.

“please jos-please dont kill me mr ghostface, i really want to be in the sequel.. ,you can do anything you want to me,.. ill do anything.” you pleaded so desperate and you could practically feel his smirk as he pressed a leg between your aching thighs.

“i know you will but its cute of you to remind me.. now shut the fuck up and go sit on the bed.” he ordered and you quickly did as he told.

you walked back into the room and sat on your knees on the bed, facing him as he walked over to you with a smirk before pulling the mask back down. his hand palmed himself through his pants as he made his way over, your mouth almost watering at the sight.

“you wanna suck my cock?” he asks and you nod your head, already desperate to please and he chuckles. “good slut.”

he undoes his pants, leaving them around his thighs before he grabs a fistful of your hair, dragging your face to meet with his already hard dick.

“s.u.c.k. now”.

you immediately take him into your mouth, tongue swirling around the tip before your head dips lower taking in more of him.

he groans as your cheeks hollow, and you look up at him,.. well the mask.

“fuck, fuck, fuck.” he grunts out, pushing your head down to choke on his cock. “good fucking kitten gag on my cock.”

you could feel yourself getting wetter by the second as he continued. josh had never yet been this rough with you and you couldnt lie. you really liked it and you could tell that he did too.

he drags you off and your head up to meet his mask. "you want me to cum down your slutty little throat before i slit it open? hm is that what you want little whore?" he asks and you practically whimper.

"please mr.ghostface." you nod and he pushes you back down, you latching back onto his cock instantly.

he holds you hair again, fucking into your face due to his desperate state now. he twitches in your mouth before spilling down your throat and you swallow without hesitation.

"thank you mr.ghostface." you smile up at him in the most innocent way possible, attempting to rub your thighs together for some release.

"stand." he orders and you scramble to your feet in front of him and with no warning he rips off your top and drags down your underwear. "so fucking perfect, id be insane not to want to cut your pretty little throat wouldnt i? hm?" he asks and you nod.

"stupid slut." he laughs before pulling you to sit on his lap, his cock directly below your aching cunt.

"what do you want babe? tell me what you want." he coos, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear and you sigh.

"i want to ride you.. please." you almost moan just at the thought he nods.

"go on then kitten, maybe if youre good i wont have to kill you, hm? ill keep you around as my own little toy." he questions and you dont even answer.

you quickly sink down on his cock, moaning out loudly as you finally feel him inside of you. "josh o.h m.y g.o.d." he groans, gripping at your hips and forcing you to move.

you bounce up and down as he uses a hand to grab at one of your boobs. "perfect, youre so fucking perfect." he grunts and you smile down at him, pressing a kiss to his mask. "and so so cute." his hand trails up your back to tug at your hair.

"mi..-mister im close." you moan out, your eyes squeezing shut as you feel that familiar feeling in your stomach.

"hold it." he spits, his nail digging into your hip as he begins to thrust up into you, helping both of you to get closer.

his free hand grabs your throat, fingers tightening around it as he fucks you both to your highs.

"go on kitten show me how much of a good girl you are cum all over my cock." he tells you and you cum immediately, your nails dragging over his all black clothed chest as you moan loudly, screaming his name over and over.

"fuck." he grunts, as he lets go of your throat letting you fall against him as the two of you come down, breathing heavily for a few minutes.

"babe.." josh asks, tucking a piece of your hair behind your ear and you hum, tracing patterns over his chest. "you okay?" he asks, continuing to play with your hair and you nod, exhausted.

“you never told me you into ghostface hm?” he laughs and you shrug.

“i got too many horror crushes.” you confess.

“oh yeah?"

"wait.. does beetlejuice count as horror too?" you quiz to no one really.

josh laughs.

__

idk im bored

jesus fucking christ anon.

Josh definitely would, especially around Halloween time since he has an excuse for dressing up in the costumes.

was not expecting a smut oneshot in my inbox, but i am not mad about it at all, good lord.

[turcott3]

think later

jj peterka x fem! reader

warnings?: public sex, fingering, spitting, unprotected sex, mild dominance, hair pulling, spanking, alcohol, cursing, kissing

HAPPY KINKTOBER MINI SERIES!!

masterlist

“as weird as this is gonna sound, go on my nightstand and grab my lube.” you say pointing to the small drawer next to your bed.

“your what now?” your friend looks at you with a smile that read as dread.

“how else am i supposed to get a fucking latex skirt on my body?” you laugh and she shrugs, digging in your drawer and reemerging with it.

“how do you want me to do this?” your friend giggles.

“can you put it on my upper thighs and my ass and i’ll rub it in before we try to pull it up any further.” you ask and she nods, doing so. you lightly spreading the gel all over your upper body, finally tugging the skirt tightly over your ass.

“jesus, look how fat your ass looks, is jj gonna be able to behave?” you friend says as she pokes fun at you.

“i mean…” you pause turning to the side in your mirror, “maybe not, but i wont complain.”

“oh wow okay.” your friend giggles.

“well i will see you, catwoman, and him, batman, later.” she says, grabbing her belongings off your bed.

“bye love you, see you later.” you wave her off as you zip up the tight latex corset around yourself, your tits getting a strong lift.

“wow, i would so fuck me if i was him.” you say, doing multiple poses in your mirror.

“jj.” you call out.

“yeah?”

“i got my costume on.”

“really? that took you guys like an hour.”

“well, it wasn’t exactly easy to do.”

“we have to leave in an hour.” he replies.

“alright, i’ll finish getting ready now, ill be out soon.”

“can’t wait to see it.” he says, you sighing at his response.

you didn’t show him which costume you ended up picking, and thank god he agreed to not wear his mask.

-

“okay are you ready?” you ask, peaking your head through the door, the cat ears making their first appearance.

“as i’ll ever be.” he replies hopping up off the couch and turning around.

“okay.” you reply quietly, opening the door, stepping out into the light. his eyes practically bulged out of his head, his jaw opening wide as you do a full 360 spin for him.

“holy shit, princess, you look fucking gorgeous.” he says still gawking at you as you approach him, arms resting on his tall shoulders.

“thank you.” you smile lightly, his hands placed on your waist as he presses a light kiss to your cheek.

“of course, wow, holy fuck.” he says, stepping back and admiring your body as it’s hugged perfectly by the latex.

“okay don’t gas me up too much babe, let’s go.” you reply with a giggle, reaching for his hand, tugging him out the door.

you arrived just on time, which was apparently late, because you were definitely not one of the first people there. the bar that the boys on the team rented out was packed full.

“i’m ready to be drunk already.” you sigh as you both observe the crowd of people.

“come on baby.” he says lowly in your ear, grabbing you by the waist, pushing through the crowd finally arriving at the bar.

“what can i get for you two?” the bar tender asks.

“whatever is gonna get me drunk the fastest.” you reply with a smile, jj chuckling next to you.

“in that case, i’ll have what my lady is having.” he says, his grip on your waist tightening for a moment.

“alright so you just want like a line of tequila shots is what im hearing? or would you prefer a sugary drink? or a seltzer?” the bartender shoots back.

“how about two tequila shots and two sugary drinks of bartenders choice?” you smile.

“i can do that, would you wanna open a tab?” he asks you and you look up at jj.

“uh yeah, yeah let’s do that.” he says, digging in his pocket for his wallet and handing the man his card as you squeeze the hand that rested on your hip briefly, him leaning over and pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

“alright, here’s those shots and i’ll have those drinks ready in a few minutes, feel free to sit down right there.” the man says pointing at two bar stools. the two of you sat together, downing the shots that burned as they ran down your throat.

“wow, that’s disgusting.” you cough and jj giggles at you.

“yeah no, definitely not great.” he replies as the drinks are set down in front of you, the buzz from your shot already beginning to hit the both of you, as you hadn’t eaten in a few hours.

jj hands you a straw, which you gladly accept, the both of you swigging the drink down quickly, licking the green sugar rim off your glass.

“i’m really feeling it already j.” you giggle, already feeling the haziness of your intoxication.

“me too, wanna dance?” he replies, nodding toward the dance floor, you nodding vigorously in response, tugging him off the bar stool and off onto the dance floor. the music played loudly throughout the bar as you turned your back to him, his hands on your waist as you swayed to the music, grinding your tight ass against his cock, a grunt leaving the german’s mouth.

“scheiße.” he mumbles under his breath, his hands wandering. you can feel his head turn a few ways on your shoulder before he hooked his hand under your skirt, running his fingers over the lace over your thong, finding their way under the material, running his thick fingers through your folds, your hand quickly finding its way behind his neck holding on for stability as you grew wet as his touch, his fingers diving into you as you bit your lip harshly, in attempt to not make it obvious as to what was going on.

carefully, he pressed two fingers inside of you, you biting back your moan harshly, the grip you had on his other hand placed on your hip, now hard. your knuckles practically white. he pumped his thick fingers in and out of you slowly, your knees struggling not to buckle under his touch, teasing giggles leaving his mouth.

“such a good girl huh?” he says, nipping on your neck as your legs began to shake.

“jj please.” you practically whisper.

“what was that? i can’t hear you.” he says, his other hand wrapping completely around your torso, his fingers moving quicker in and out of your throbbing pussy.

“jj, please, i can’t take it.” you say a little louder, turning your head toward his ear. quiet moans leaving your lips as he smirked.

“awe, you gonna cum for me pretty girl?” he teases, mumbling in your ear, and you nod in reply, your knees buckling under the pressure, his other arm holding you completely still against him as an orgasm washed harshly over your body, a loud gasp leaving your lips as your head leaned over your chest, gasping for air as he removed his hand, sucking his fingers clean of your juices in your ear.

“let’s go get another drink baby.” he says, peeking you up quickly, feeling less drunk than before, the haze leaving with the orgasm you just had and having to stay normal in a crowd of people.

“can we get two more of those drinks?” jj asks and the bar tender nods, beginning to make them.

“come on sit.” he says and you shake your head quickly.

“why not?”

“do you want to see a puddle of my fucking cum on a barstool jj?” you lean over in his ear, giggling in response.

“yes actually i do, i wanna see what i do to you, now sit down.” he replies quietly, pulling the stool out. you couldn’t lie and say you didn’t enjoy his more dominant side, it was fucking hot.

the bartender presented the new drinks, the two of you swilling them down just like you had, but this time you were already horny, this drink just pushing the two of you along. you reached over to his crotch, and grabbed onto his cock through his pants, his hand pushing yours away. you persisted as he spoke with the bartender, rubbing your hand across his thigh, occasionally poking his dick and running a soft hand across it, his breath hitching in his throat each time.

“well thank you for these drinks man, i can go ahead and close out.” jj says, his fist balled up on his lap.

“alright if you could just sign this receipt.” he says sliding jj the receipt, quickly signing it and tipping him 50 dollars before sliding it back and tugging you off the bar stool.

“will you fucking behave for a moment please? i’m doing something.” he says firmly in your ear, stealing napkins from the bar and wiping off your seat.

“you like seeing my wet fucking pussy on that bar stool?” you whisper in his ear with a teasing smirk.

“of course i did, who do you think i am.” he replies, pressing a hasty kiss to your lips.

“i think i need to go to the bathroom.” you say, and he nods, his hand finding its way back to your waist as you found the dimly lit hallway.

“come in with me.” you suggest, gripping on his arm as he turned the door handle.

“i’ll be doing more than just coming in the bathroom with you.”

“a lot more.” you agree.

locked.

“fuck.” you whine, your thighs rubbing together. jj looks around and sees a short stack of chairs at the end of the hall, in front of the emergency exit door. he tugs you down the hall quickly, taking off one of the chairs and sitting you down in one of them, your back to the rest of the bar.

“can i please?” you beg, your hands hanging from the waist band of his pants.

“be quick, don’t have time for you to be sucking my dick for twenty minutes.” he says and you nod, him gathering your hair behind your head as you unbuttoned his pants, pulling the waistband down. his hard cock spring free as you tugged it down, a gasp leaving your mouth. drunk you, clearly forgetting his size.

your hand pumped up and down his length firmly as you locked eyes with him, his other hand holding your jaw.

“open.” he says firmly, your mouth opening instantly. he leans over and puckers his lips briefly, spitting directly into your mouth, you growing impossibly hornier at the action.

“now put it in.” he demands mildly, you quickly placing his head on your tongue, swirling around the tip before taking him all into your mouth, bobbing up and down. your eyes watered intensely as his cock hit the back of your throat, his hands holding your head in place as his hips thrusted lightly a handful of times before pulling out and letting you go, falling back into the chair as you gasp for air.

“so fucking good for me baby.” he grunts, barely loud enough to hear. quickly, you find yourself leaning over the chair, your hands placed firmly on the plastic seat as he jerked himself off, he leaned over running his fingers through the folds of your wet pussy.

“please just fuck me jj.” you whine and he pulls away.

“shhhh you don’t get any unless you stay quiet.” he replies and you sigh.

“yes j.” you reply, biting your lip as you anxiously waited. eventually, you felt his tip make contact with your core, pressing in lightly and pulling back out. you feel his hand wrap around your hair and tug you toward him.

“you’re gonna be quiet for me right? quiet for me while i fuck you senseless, yeah?” he teases, your hand grabbing onto his wrist, turned on intensely by his actions.

“yes, fuck yes.” you reply as he lets you go, falling back into your position. without wanting, he dives into you, his length stretching you out.

“oh my god.” you moan as he stays there, pulling your skirt over your ass, placing a firm smack to it.

“fuck.” you whine to yourself as he pulls out, slamming back into you harshly, tears pricking your eyes. his thrusts were deep and harsh. you drowned out the loud music with your thoughts and your moans, his thick cock hitting your cervix with each thrust. his hand remained in your hair as he fucked into you, your skin clapping loudly against his hips.

“s-so deep.” you whine out.

“quiet pretty girl.” he grunts, pounding into you as your eyes rolled into the back of your head. quickly he lets go of your hair, pulling out.

“turn over.” he demands and you do so.

“jump.” he says, and you do so, hooking your legs around his waist, holding you up with one arm, using the other the press his wet cock back into you. his other hand grabbed onto your other ass cheek, bouncing you up and down on his cock, his hands gripping harshly on your ass, an occasional spank stinging your already red ass cheek.

“fuck.” you moan, wrapping your arms around his shoulders, muffling your moans with his shoulder.

“stay quiet baby.” he mumbles as he now holds your still, his hips now thrusting in and out of you at an extremely quick pace.

“oh my god jj.” you moan out, him leaning the pair of you over, your head now laid on the back of the chair, his forehead pressed against yours as his speed became unbearable. you felt yourself tightening around him harshly as he pounded deep into you.

“oh hey jj? what the hell are you doing down there?” you hear a familiar male voice down the hallway, his thrusts slowing to a near stop instantly.

“oh, y/n got a little too drunk and threw up. she got embarrassed and came back here so i can clean her up.” he lies instantly, but very well.

“awe man, that sucks. you’re a good guy jj. i’ll see you around.” he says entering the, now, unoccupied bathroom.

“that was close.” you giggled and he smiled, pressing his forehead back to yours as he resumed his deep thrusts, much slower this time knowing that both of you were close, your arms wrapping back around his shoulders as he sped up. your moans threatened to increase in volume as you drew closer and closer to your second orgasm of the night, your moans quickly silenced by his soft lips on yours. your tongues tangoed between you, the kiss deeper than ever before as your walls completely tighten around him, his hips stuttering as a climax came over both of you, your body shaking in his touch as he filled you up with his milky seed. the thrusts came to a stop as he continued to kiss you, sweat now dripping from the both of you before you pull away, erupting in unstoppable giggles.

“i can’t believe we just did that.” you giggle against his cheek.

“me either, but god it was so good baby, you’re so fucking perfect.” he says, pulling out, some of the milky mixture, dripping to the ground.

“we made a mess.” you groan.

“hey hey, it’s okay. uh stay right here. he just left the bathroom.” he says.

“wait, let me help you.” you say, stopping him from zipping his pants, sucking the mixture off his slowly softening cock.

“god you’re so hot.” he replies, shamelessly leaning over, his tongue diving back into yours mouth for a few moments before pulling away again, tucking himself back into his pants, and disappearing to the bathroom for a few moments, returning with a warm, damp paper towel. carefully, he wiped you completely clean, assuring you in pulling your clothes back on straight.

“can we go home?” you ask standing up, grabbing onto his hand as you left the hallway.

“yes baby, let’s go home.” he says, kissing your hand as you found your way to the exit, pure bliss radiating off of both of you.

[bird-in-the-space]

Echoes of the Unknown

After recovering from your illness, you talk with Emily and the human trio. You learn little about the bots. However, the idea of officially joining Team Prime leaves you in doubt.

Warnings: Ratchet being grumpy, a bit social anxiety, Miko taking pictures without permission, and a lot of self doubt.

Chapter 10

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

After Ratchet finished the cleaning progress,  infused you with fresh processed energon, and fixed up your dents, he made adjustments to your body after hearing about how your limbs dragged you a lot due to their weight and how much trouble you had moving them. The process felt like forever, but he finally gave you the clear to stand up and move while he made finishing scans. 

“Alright. How do you feel? The adjustments I made should have made your arms and legs more lighter for you to move,” Ratchet asked as you stretched your arms, and shoulders and tested your knees. Everything felt much better and not like you were carrying limbs that felt more like weights. 

“Much better. I feel like I can finally move without exhausting myself,” you explained. 

“Thank you… doc… you said slightly awkwardly. 

He grumbled at the nickname. “Make sure you do not go drinking any more earth oils. It’s unhealthy and bad for you,” he said before proceeding to do something else. 

“Lesson learned,” you said before seeing Emily walk up to you. 

“How are you feeling? Is the headache gone?” she asked. 

“Yeah. The headache’s gone, and I do not feel like I’m going to pass out anytime soon,” you explained. 

“That’s good. You gave me quite a scare when you passed out in the alley like that,” Emily smiled. 

“Yeah, sorry about that,” you said, feeling embarrassed and a bit guilty for scaring her. 

“Don’t be. You were not feeling well. You were probably gonna pass out sooner or later,” she said. “I’m glad we got you the help you needed before anything serious could happen,” she added. 

Jack, Raf, and Miko then showed up. 

“So… (Name).... what is it like looking at us from there?” Jack asked. 

“Everything is… smaller than it should be,” you answered. 

“Dude. I never knew Vehicons had faces behind their masks,” Miko said. “I thought the eye line and the smooth surface was their face,” 

You frowned. “Haven’t you been with these guys longer than us? Wasn’t there at least one time you saw these cons having faces?” you questioned. 

“We try to avoid putting ourselves in danger. Miko tends to do the opposite so she can take pictures of our bots scrapping the cons.” Jack crossed his arms while looking at Miko. She only rolled her eyes. 

“Well, this is different. Now smile!” Miko took out her phone and took a picture of you. The sudden camera light made you blink your eyes for a moment. 

“So, how long have you three known about these guys?” you asked. 

“For a while now,” Raf answered. 

“You do not have to worry about these guys accidentally stepping on you?” you asked. 

“We’re careful enough. I guess you do not have to worry about getting squashed since you’re a bot yourself,” Miko pointed at you. 

“That’s perhaps the only relief,” Ratchet scoffed. 

You didn’t know what to think of it. Not getting stepped on was one thing, but now you could accidentally do the stepping, and you were not certain if you could trust yourself to be that careful. 

“So… now that you decided to stay. You could become an Autobot,” Jack started. 

“Not a bad idea. Hey, maybe we could finally look into a new look for you,” Emily suggested. 

“Yeah. If you ever joined a fight, the bots could mistake you for the enemy because you still look like one of those Vehicons,” Miko said, making punching motions. “That would be really bad for you,” 

“Ugh—” you stayed silent at the suggestions. 

You, an Autobot? 

This was not your war. 

“I don’t really know about that,” you said. 

“One moment, please. I… I need to clear my head for a moment,” you said, walking away from them. Emily looked after you with a frown. 

You found yourself a lone corner and leaned against the wall with a sigh. 

“(Name)?” 

You looked down to see Emily in front of you. You kneeled down to her level. 

“What’s wrong? Something’s on your mind,” she asked.  

“Nothing. It’s just… my social battery is not very high right now,” you excused as it was partly the truth. 

“But there’s something else,” Emily stated with her hands on her hips. 

You stayed quiet, unsure how to explain it to her. 

“Come on. I won’t leave you alone until you tell me,” she said. 

“It’s just…” you sighed. “So much happened today and now we know that there’s a whole alien war going on. I mean it’s insane,” you confessed. 

“I’m glad these Autobots are friendly, but… me joining these guys? Becoming an Autobot?” you questioned. 

“I might be a cybertronian now, but I am very much still a human from inside. This is… This is not my war,” you said.  

“We got lucky escaping the Decepticons, but I can’t fight. What can I do for them? I’ll be more in their way than be any help,” you asked. 

“I get what you mean,” Emily placed her hand on your finger. 

“You do not have to join them if you don’t want to, and you do not have to do any fighting. I guess that was just Miko getting overly excited,” she said. 

“However, after getting to know them a little. I think this is the best place for you to be. They’re not that bad. I have a good feeling about this so how about you give these guys a chance? Become friends with them? That way you have people you can turn to for help,” she suggested with a gentle smile. 

You hesitated, but her smile and words made you consider it. “If you trust them that much already… then I guess I can give it a try,” you uttered. 

“Attagirl. And don’t worry about being any help. We can figure out that later,” she comforted, patting your hand. “Maybe you could be an extra pair of hands for the doc bot,” she grinned. 

“Ratchet seems like he prefers to work alone,” you said. 

“Nah. We never know once we ask,” she said. 

“But everything is going to be alright. Give these guys a chance. Who knows, they might just be the right people for you after all,” she smiled enthusiastically. 

“Okay,” you nodded. 

“Good. Now come on. Time to upgrade your social skills,” she said and you followed her back to the trio. 

You talked to them about random things. They shared interesting stories they had with their bots and slowly you dropped your guard around them. It no longer seemed bad and you found it rather easy to talk with them. Maybe this could work after all.

[uzumaki-rebellion]

"Ruler of my heart

Robber of my soul

Where can you be?

I wait patiently

My heart cries out

Pain inside

Where can you be?

I wait patiently"

Irma Thomas—"Ruler of my Heart"

A.N.: Content Warning. Smut ahead.

Celeste's smartphone vibrated on her nightstand at six in the morning. She rubbed her head. Her scarf had come undone during the night and her locs tangled around her arm and side. She reached down for the phone and shoved it against her hair.

"Hello?" she said.

"Celeste…I can't come to church with you today."

She sat up and rested her back against the headboard.

"Oh…okay…"

" Mémé s health aide called me—"

"Is everything alright?"

"No. She's not doing so well…took a turn for the worse during the night. I've been here since two this morning."

"Did they say what's wrong? She's never been seriously ill or anything since she's been there."

"They don't really know. She was weak and having a hard time breathing before I got here. They have her using an oxygen tank now and she's better. Maybe Mike's death was too much for her to take."

"I'll come right over if you want."

"No. Go to your church service."

"I have to be there for work at four. I can stop in to check on you two."

"That would be good. Thank you."

"See you soon."

She hung up and slid down to the floor, prostrating herself for prayer. She asked God and her patron saint, St. Mary, to watch over Miss Irma. Celeste climbed back into bed and listened to the world outside waking up after excessive partying. Even her cottage moaned and shifted with creaking noises at the rising sun. Bounding out of bed forty minutes before service, she washed her face and brushed her teeth, rolled deodorant under her pits while checking the news about the missing tourists. There were no new updates available.

The drive over to St. Augustine was unhurried, and she found parking close by. After ninety minutes, Celeste stepped outside the Parish Hall with a dark smudge of ash on her forehead. She checked her phone for any messages from Terry, but no notifications popped up.

Back at her cottage, she cooked a simple breakfast of toast and scrambled eggs. Her friends chirped all over the groupchat app, complaining of hangovers, sore legs, and going back to work. She informed them that Terry hadn't stayed over, and they commended her on not simping out. The hours dragged by before she dressed in her work uniform and tied up her hair.

She checked in with her supervisor Anne at work, asking about Miss Irma.

"How did you know about her condition?" Anne asked.

"I'm friends with her grandson, Terry."

"I didn't know that."

"Is he still here?"

"He's with her now. We've transitioned into hospice care for her. Bryan said she doesn't have long."

"Wait…what? She's dying?"

Anne's watery blue eyes held the routine of elderly death in them.

"Yes."

"How could she go downhill so fast?"

"It happens that way sometimes. Not every patient has a gradual decline. They can be perky and thriving one moment, and then…gone just like that."

Celeste walked to her work locker and put away her bag and keys. She looked at her shift schedule and got to work immediately. Ducking into an employee restroom after cleaning six rooms, she braced herself by staring at her face in the mirror. Death and dying were inevitable at the long-term facility. Lord knows she'd seen enough of it working there. Things shifted to another experience when it was someone she cared about. She treated Miss Irma like family, and it hurt to know she would transition so soon. Another prayer went up from her and she crossed herself in order to build up emotional reserves to remain professional.

Passing through the long hallway, she headed to Miss Irma's room.

Terry kept a bedside vigil, cradling his grandmother's hand. Celeste was glad that they administered oxygen through a nasal cannula instead of a full mask. A hospice nurse checked the oxygen flow in the tank next to the bed and left the room quickly.

"Hi," she said.

Terry looked up at her, his eyes bloodshot from a lack of sleep, and his forehead lined with stress. She moved around the bed to stand next to him. Miss Irma slept with labored breathing.

"How is she?"

Terry shook his head, and his eyes scrunched up. Celeste hugged him from the side and he buried his face against her stomach. He wept softly. She held him, rocking his body to ease his spirit.

"She's lived a long, happy life. I'm grateful for that…but I don't want her to leave me," he said.

Tears misted Celeste's vision and she willed them back down, keeping her composure for him. His breath passed through her work smock, warming up the skin on her stomach.

"I shouldn't have told her about my cousin. She didn't need to know about what happened to him yet. I could've lied to her and said he was too busy to visit."

"Lying isn't good."

"I should've waited for another time."

"Terry, don't blame yourself."

Miss Irma's eyes fluttered open. Celeste lowered her head to make eye contact.

"Hi Miss Irma," Celeste said.

"I'm so tired, Papa," Miss Irma said.

"Rest, Mémé…don't waste your energy trying to speak. I'm right here with you."

Celeste rubbed his shoulder and sang the first three stanzas of "I Need Thee" for Miss Irma in hushed tones. The older woman's agitation melted away. Her rheumy eyes held Celeste's gaze, and Terry patted his grandmother's feeble, blue-veined hand.

"I better get back to work and leave you some privacy," she said.

Terry stood up and hugged her, his bulky arms squeezing her close.

"Thank you for singing to her."

"I'll come by later during another round to check on y'all. Stay strong, hear?"

He nodded his head and sat back down.

Celeste hurried back to her busy schedule, cleaning and moving clients into the dining room for their evening meals. She marked off tasks as she completed them to keep her focus on working her eight hours. During her first break, she went outside to smoke against a side wall, wondering how Miss Irma was doing and how Terry held up. She called her mother and left a fussy message on her voicemail about Freddie.

Her cousin Pia sent her a link of Celeste dancing on a porch in a Mardi Gras compilation video along with images of Big Chief marching through their neighborhood. Returning to work, she led the finished diners back to their private rooms, or to the evening movie watch-party in the commons area.

She stopped in front of the doorway of Miss Irma's room. She cracked the door open and peeked inside. Terry held his head down near his grandmother's thigh. He slept soundly. Miss Irma's labored breathing became more pronounced and Celeste recognized the wet, gurgling noise with each exhaled breath released. Her time was near.

She reached down to close the door all the way and Miss Irma turned her head, lining her gaze with Celeste. Miss Irma's lips moved and Celeste couldn't hear what she said. She moved into the room quietly, trying not to wake Terry.

She bent over the bed to listen.

"Keep her," Miss Irma said, each word a strain on her breathing. "No matter what Papa says…no matter…what no one says…keep her."

She raised a weak hand and pointed toward her closet.

"The truth… is in there, child."

Terry shifted his head on the bed and opened weary eyes.

"Mémé?" he murmured.

"Oh, I do love you so…Papa," Miss Irma said.

He kissed his grandmother's cheek, and Miss Irma closed her eyes.

For good.

Terry's lips parted, but no sound came out, his grief so profound that vibrations in the air couldn't push out his pain of another loss. He held Miss Irma's hand and stared at her as if he could bring her back with a loving gaze.

"I'm truly all alone," he whispered.

Miss Irma's heart monitor alerted the medical staff and Celeste exited the room, blindly wandering in the opposite direction. She left the facility and cried against her car. Ten minutes later, she pulled it together again and walked back to Miss Irma's room.

The medical staff allowed Terry to sit with Miss Irma's deceased body for an hour. Celeste pulled up a chair and sat next to him in silence. Terry stared at Miss Irma with a damp face and a sorrowful mood.

"Even when you know it's coming, you're never prepared…not really. Ninety-nine years she walked this earth and loved me for every single one of them."

He closed his eyes and a single tear ran down his left cheek.

"I was so grateful to know her," she said.

Terry reached for Celeste's hand and held it on his thigh.

"You were a light in her lonely days while I was away. I can never repay you for the care and love you've shown her the last year of her life."

Anne knocked on the door softly and entered. Celeste knew she had forms prepared for Terry to sign, and two hospice workers waited outside to take Miss Irma away.

"I have to go back to work, but later…tonight, you're welcome to stay with me."

He wiped his face and nodded.

Walking away from Miss Irma and Terry was the most difficult thing to do, but she had to let him deal with the aftercare of the deceased on his own.

Terry cremated Miss Irma's remains.

That surprised Celeste even though Catholics didn't forbid cremation. They had guidelines stating that remains had to be buried in a consecrated place, but an older Catholic like Miss Irma typically preferred a traditional burial with the body kept intact for Resurrection Day. Terry didn't act very religious and sorted out his grandmother's affairs according to her will. Miss Irma had a pre-paid burial package at a local crematorium. Three days after her death, Celeste stood with Terry at the St. Louis Cemetery No. 1 columbarium in the serenity garden. He interred Miss Irma with his cousin Mike and refused to have any kind of service.

Her friends started worrying about how closely she attached herself to Terry, isolating herself more and more from family and associates. She blew them off, wanting to enjoy his company without their interference. The only downside to their relationship was that Celeste dreaded going to work at the elder care facility and the chicken plant. It meant less time spent with him. His bereavement lasted five days, and she traded shifts here and there and called in sick to the chicken plant to make the most of the hours alone with him.

She cooked low sodium soups for him and brewed lots of tea, insisting that he eat and take in liquids despite his grief. He obliged her. They watched lots of movies and held each other in bed at night. He liked to rest his head on her chest while she hummed and stroked his hair until he fell asleep.

She played the piano for him often at sunset, keeping her French doors open so the music drifted outside as the evening breeze cooled down her cottage. Most of her repertoire consisted of gospel hymns or classical arias. As a child, her voice lessons focused on singing classical music and downplaying secular music. Her parents dreamed of her being an opera star. Their greatest disappointment in her musical gifts was the day she dropped out of Tulane University's prestigious Newcomb Department of Music in her junior year. She'd lost sight of what path to take in school and dropped out in frustration. Playing piano and singing were things she enjoyed as a hobby, not a career choice.

Watching Terry shut those gorgeous eyes while she sang "Adoramus Te Christe" thrilled her to the bone. He appreciated her talent, especially the way she could sound down home with all her gospel runs, but then turn around, striking the keys with a fiery piano rendition of German composer Carl Orff's "O Fortuna". She tickled the ivory stirring up playful riffs imitating Professor Longhair and Alan Toussaint. Serenading him with her version of "Ruler of my Heart", Celeste adored the way Terry drank in every sung word, gifting her with his unwavering attention. Music was in the blood of her family, the heart of New Orleans. What was the city without its music? Without Black folks? She poured out her love for New Orleans, her people…and him, through her talented fingers dancing across the keys.

He could never keep his hands off her throughout their time together.

Sometimes he liked to play with her locs absentmindedly while she rested her head on his lap, listening to love songs on her sound system. He'd fondle her breasts, plucking and pinching her nipples at unexpected times, forcing her to take off her shirt and unfasten her bra so he could suck on her tits. She loved getting on her knees and stuffing his dick between her breasts. Titty fucking brought out the beast in him. Nothing was sexier than his eyes narrowing into half slits, watching her soft, ample breasts rub up and down his shaft, his slit dripping copious amounts of sticky fluid. She'd stick the tip of tongue deep into his slit and he'd groan, the rumble in his chest turning her on.

They spent a whole afternoon like that, titty fucking while she was down on her knees, then switching to her reclining on the sectional with him straddling her waist, using his big hands to squeeze her tits while he humped that battering ram between her cleavage like it was her pussy.

She'd squeal when he nutted all over her nipples, then he'd keep stroking his dick until he shot a heavy load on her face next. He'd smear the cum around and make her lick it off his fingers, all the while telling her she was amazing. Her plump tits looked like two big ole pound cakes covered in glazed icing by the time he started jerking off again, aroused beyond measure by her appearance soaked in his creamy white jizz. He repeated this over and over until he shot hot ropes all over her lips and open mouth. His stamina was unreal.

Still covered in semen, he'd flip Celeste over onto his knees and spank her, building up her pain tolerance over a session, and then rub her ass cheeks with those massive palms to soothe the scorching heat his hand strikes left on her backside. Their safe word never had to be used, because he instinctively knew when Celeste reached her limit. She gave herself willingly to him, sucking his dick and balls whenever he needed tender-loving care. Her head bobbing in his lap giving loud sloppy toppy became ritual. He gave as much as he took from her. Reciprocity was his middle name, and he kept his face buried between her legs twice a day.

Bouncing on that big dick became another favorite pastime in the evenings. He'd glue his mouth to her ear and tell her in crude language with throaty groans how much of a good girl she was for taking all of his dick in her tight snatch. She became delirious when he lifted her up and down on his erection, as if she had no weight at all. He stood up and really showed off by arm-curling her on and off his length in the air, her thighs spread across his biceps. They went through two bottles of lube fast… and so many orgasms.

Occasionally they untangled their limbs, and got out of the house to walk to the French Market for fresh air and non-sexual exercise. They picked out interesting arts and crafts, bought pralines, visited Congo Square and checked in with her older cousin who ran the Backstreet Cultural Museum that highlighted Mardi Gras Indian history. Terry walked by her side carrying shopping bags home like they were a regular long-time couple. He came back to himself, being with her. That's what he told her. Celeste's heart grew brave, and she admitted to herself that she was falling in love. The embers of romantic love sparked and burned into a steady glowing orange flame, and each day she added a bit more kindling, keeping the hearth of eros warm in her heart. Terry's affections grew even more pronounced and his actions hinted he felt the same way about her. He took care of her, paying for everything while he stayed with Celeste, even covering her light and gas bill. His mourning period blossomed into courtship.

A week after interring his relatives, Terry asked to do something with her.

"Let me videotape you."

"You really wanted that directing gig, huh?" she teased.

He gently pushed her leg to get her off the couch.

"Set up your camera and ring lights…right on the floor again," he said. "Wear the burgundy bra and panties. Throw on your six-inch heels…bring me the binding rope, too."

Celeste set about gathering her equipment and dressed the way he wanted. He stuck the dildo on the floor and adjusted the lighting to a natural setting that mimicked warm outdoor light. She pulled her carnival mask over her eyes. The only make-up she used was a pink lip gloss.

She stood before him and handed over the red satin binding rope. He tied her upper body carefully, creating a line of small knots along her spine, and bound her arms together, pressed into her chest.

"Comfortable? Not too tight?" he asked, mindful of not stopping her circulation.

"I'm good," she said.

His gaze dusted across her form, approving of the physical masterpiece waiting to do his bidding. Freddie used to pester her about letting him handcuff her to their bed a lifetime ago and she always refused, uncomfortable with being hooked to a headboard.

Look at her now. Tied up by a man she hadn't known a mere two weeks ago.

Terry ran his large hand down her side, testing the bondage rope and stroking her skin. He frowned and shook his head, undoing the rope quickly.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

"Take the underwear off. Your skin looks better with the rope by itself," he insisted.

She pulled off her bra and shimmied out of her panties with his help keeping her balance. He tied the rope again, but this time he placed various knots on her erogenous zones, nipples, and clit. The unused length of rope he turned into a leash knotted loosely at the front of her throat. He held the leash in his hand, turning her into his sexual pet. She liked that her arms were free, even though he was in control of her movement.

The emerald coloring of his eyes became alluring sirens. They matched his inviting lips and aroused her all over. Every time she moved, a knotted portion of the rope rubbed, tugged, or created friction on her sensitive parts. Especially her clit. Terry licked his fingers and pushed a small knot into that swelling jewel.

"Sticky already," he said, licking his fingers. "My little nasty girl."

His voice sounded deeper…hungry. Her pussy started purring then. He tugged on the rope resting on both sides of her vulva and she whimpered. The friction there felt exquisite on her soft, plump outer labia. He left just enough space for her opening to remain available for his use.

"How did I get so lucky to find you, Celeste?"

She pressed her eyes shut. The vibration of his voice teased the skin on her neck. He kissed her throat and licked a favorite spot that he always buried his teeth in when he came inside of her. The bruising on her neck, under her breasts, and on her left thigh never went away completely. Those times he did bite her—and he bit often—brought on a high better than smoking weed. He'd bite, suck at the skin like he was giving a hickey, and she'd float into a cosmic orgasm every time.

He moved his lips to her chin and kissed her there, his tongue tracing circular swirls until he reached her ear.

"I want you to ride that dildo like you're riding me. Can you do that?"

"Yes."

He kissed her and pried her lips apart with his tongue, darting inside her mouth with an ardor that overwhelmed her ability to stay in the present. Her mind flew away into the future, dreaming of romance and building a life with him. Pure fantasy.

He pulled away from her lips and held her trembling body.

"Crying? Why, baby?" he asked.

She shook her head, and he hugged her.

"Should we stop this?" he breathed.

"No. I can do it."

"Are you sure? Have I done something to upset you?"

"No…I'm happy. I want this…I want you…"

He grinned so hard that his gums showed, looking like a little kid who won first prize at a Spelling Bee. Did he smile at his wife that way when she was alive? Celeste thought about that woman more and more. Could Terry love her enough to want to wife her up one day?

He stroked the side of her face with the back of his hand.

"I love you," he said.

Celeste's heart imploded.

Her knees quaked, and he held her against him with a beatific smile on his gorgeous face.

"Do you feel the same about me?"

Celeste threw her arms around his neck, and he lifted her onto her toes. He chuckled and pressed his forehead against hers.

So fast…it all came about so fast that Celeste wasn't sure that she hadn't made up the encounter or the words that came out of his divine lips.

He loved her. Truly, madly, profoundly.

They kissed again, their tongues sliding into sweet configurations, each one of them trying to show the other the depth of their feelings. Celeste even thanked Freddie in her heart for showing his ass and removing himself from her life to make way for this light-eyed prince who swept her off her feet literally.

Terry spun around with her in his arms and she laughed, feeling dizzy from the rush of love confessions.

He checked the camera settings to record her, and Celeste crouched over the lubed up dildo in her high heels and knotted rope binding.

"Show me how much you love me," Terry said.

His eyes took on a deadly seriousness and Celeste shook her hips and reached down to her toes, displaying her wide open labia. Her pussy twitched in anticipation of penetration, and Terry groaned behind the camera.

"That's it, Celeste…baby that pussy is glistening."

She rolled her hips and lowered her body down to the floor, crouched on her heels, and rested her vulva against the tip of the jet black dildo. The toy was flexible and bent at an angle to help her control how deep it went. Patting her labia, she fingered herself, playing for the camera and him.

"Right there baby, hold it…"

She squeezed her vaginal muscles, letting her opening wink open and closed for him. Glancing over her shoulder, she watched Terry tug on his dick through his gray sweatpants. He already had a tent pitched there and his pre-cum stained a visible quarter-sized wet spot.

"Slide down on that shit," he commanded.

His voice echoed in her ears, and she obeyed.

Up and down she went. The dildo spread her pussy lips apart and her tight opening choked it with loud squelching noises. Terry's eyes volleyed back and forth from the laptop on the coffee table and the camera lens he recorded from. He held the leash end of the bondage rope and it gave the appearance of the viewer controlling Celeste's body. She wound her hips and slid on and off the dildo, riding the tip, constantly looking over her shoulder, her mask creating the mystery ultra-fuck experience that her viewers paid to see. She turned around to face the camera, using her strong knees to rock forward and back on the fake dick. Terry pulled on the rope, forcing her head up.

"Got that dick creamy, baby," he said.

Celeste slapped her vulva and looked at how frothy she made the dildo. She fucked it like it was Terry's fat dick. He stopped looking at the camera view screen and watched her fuck with gushy pussy live. Celeste became wet enough to start making splashing noises each time she dropped down on the dildo. The knots in the rope spurned her on, their friction on her nipples and clit leading her to a dangerous precipice.

Terry pulled down his sweatpants just enough to release a massive erection that he stroked above her with delicious erotic skill. It looked so fat and juicy. Her mouth watered and her pussy contracted after a long stream of pre-cum spilled out of his tip and fell onto her thigh. Celeste pressed into her clit with the rope knot, and an unhurried orgasm rippled in surging waves along her outer labia, causing her to squirt all over the floor. She'd never done that before. Terry's dick started spitting cum after her release, and his semen rained down on Celeste, covering the satin rope in wet, messy splashes. Her lover's eyes burned with lust and he pulled her onto her feet by the leash.

Spinning her around, he penetrated her standing up, bending her forward and yanking on her locs. Gripping her throat, he pummeled her cheeks, sinking that thick heat deep into her until his balls slapped against her ass. It wasn't enough for him.

Tossing her over his shoulder, he carried her into the bedroom and dropped her onto the bed. He entered her again with one thrust and she gasped at the sensation of fullness.

"Tell me you love me," he begged.

The earnestness in his tone shocked Celeste. He needed verbal reassurance from her that he wasn't alone in the sentiment.

"I love you, Terry."

"Say it again…again…again…baby…"

He loved on her like she'd never been loved on before. Pure. Gentle. Real.

"Fuck me…yes…I feel you squeezing me, shit…don't stop…damn, girl! Damn, Celeste…fucking this dick…keep fucking me…ooh shiiiiit!"

Terry stopped short of cumming and untied her. He rubbed the indentation marks on her skin, kissing each one until satisfied that he soothed them all.

"Feeling okay?" he asked.

"I'm fine."

He lowered his head to suck on her nipples. She rubbed on his hair and he tended to her breasts like it was his first time playing with them.

His large physique covered her in muscles, sweat, and even tears. He kept his watery eyes on her face, and they repeatedly told one another, "I love you."

It had to be real.

His dick stretched her pussy in ownership. She pointed her toes at the ceiling and gripped his wide back, her nails digging into his sweaty flesh, breaking skin. He cried out her name, and that alone triggered her pussy to spasm and send tight contractions along the length of his dick. The orgasm that curled her toes came deep within, down in the bottom of her pussy where his dick rested. Celeste's eyes rolled back. He plunged his teeth into the side of her neck, sucking with those full lips and greedy tongue. His dick swelled and pumped warm cum into her. Thrashing her head about, she couldn't get over how he wrecked her walls. He spilled deep into her womb and she wept, her pussy still throbbing around him.

Celeste could've died happy in that moment. Cumming on the dick of the man she loved…and who loved her back…priceless.

"I love you…I love you…I love you," he said over and over until she passed out.

Heavy raindrops.

Celeste made coffee for herself and Terry in her kitchen. Her faded light blue house dress looked just as gloomy as the weather outside. She poured the liquid into mugs full of cream and sugar, stirring them with a spoon before carrying them out into her living room.

Terry peered at the courtyard through the French doors. The curtains were drawn back so they could watch water falling from the sky.

"Doesn't look like it'll clear up today," she said, watching him.

He didn't acknowledge her right away, just stared up at the darkening clouds.

He'd been with her for an additional week and his mood had changed. Their interactions and lovemaking remained top notch, but his mind seemed preoccupied with something outside of her.

He was afraid of something.

On their outings he walked like a man dodging trouble, preferring to avoid crowds and always looking over his shoulder. He gave her money to buy food alone and holed up in her house like a shut-in. She questioned him about his behavior and he claimed to not be feeling well. Spooked and nervous, Terry became a different person and no amount of cajoling from her made him open up about it.

She handed him a mug and he turned to look at her.

"I think it'll rain all week," he said.

She walked over to the sectional and sat down, sipping her coffee and dreading going to work at the chicken plant in a few hours. Terry sighed and drank from his mug.

Celeste moved over to the piano to play him something comforting, but the first chord she struck on a piano key didn't sound right.

Terry's somber eyes looked gray in the distance between them.

"I have to go back home, check on the restaurant with my business partner. I've been away too long and I have responsibilities there," he said.

She nodded in understanding, swallowing the lump that grew in her throat.

"Will you be able to come back and see me?" she asked.

"Not for a while, Celeste."

"I get it. You had a life before you came here. I can't expect you to stay forever."

"Baby, don't cry…"

Celeste covered her face with her left hand. Terry sat down next to her on the piano bench.

"Hey…hey…" he said.

He hugged her, and she cried into his neck. The man had proved that there was love after love, and she wished she could relive every moment she spent with him. She sensed deep down that he didn't want to leave...but had to. If a man couldn't tell her the truth about why he wanted to go away, she was smart enough to let him leave. He told her once he had issues in the past being in New Orleans. Maybe it was some old gangster shit and he had to get outta Dodge fast. Whatever it was, she wasn't going to get involved.

Celeste rested her head against his chest so she could listen to his heartbeat and remember it. The rain outside did the rest of the crying for her.

Chapter 9 HERE.

Masterlist

Taglist:

@nahimjustfeeling-writes

@planetblaque

@kindofaintrovert

@thedondada05

@blackburnbook

@avoidthings

@slutsareteacherstoo

@nayaesworld

@notapradagurl17

@4pfsukuna

@yamst3rdamctrl

@sweettea-and-honeybutter

@comfortzonequeen

@theereina

@brattyfics

@prettyisasprettydoes1306

@megane96

@honeytoffee

@taurusqueen83

@mightbeher

@melaninpov

@carlakeks

@woahthatshitfat

@hrlzy

@theglamclosetsl

[crushedsweets]

What do the creeps do on a “normal” day?

work and hang out, mostly!

since work is like half of someones life, ill mostly use this to describe their jobs and hobbies/stuff they do in their freetime. ill organize it by groups !

PROXIES (kate, toby, tim, brian)

Kate and Toby work on a farm cuz they need to get paid under the table for everything. Tim is a trucker, Brian is in carpentry

Toby spends a lot of of his free time just messing around. normal day looks like waking up, immediately trying to check who wants to hang out with him, then trying to do something fun, whether it be working out or bothering his friends or fixing stuff up or learning a new skill

kate just kinda follows toby around or spends her time walking around, putting up pages, sleeping, watching DVDs toby buys. normal day looks like waking up, being sluggish for hours at a time, eating, going for a run, watching movies, and whatever toby forces her to do

tim and brian work a LOT so a normal day to them is work, check on toby/kate, go to their shared apartment, eat, watch a movie, sleep, repeat. almost monotonous, but they prefer the stable routine over the unpredictability their life used to be under slendy

INFECTED (clocky, jeff, nina, liu, jane)

first arc, clocky is a waitress/bartender. days looked like sleeping in the barn, going to work, coming to the proxy cabin till toby irritates her, going to the barn, making art, listening to music, whatever. she eventually gets a tattoo apprenticeship and rents her very own studio apartment! still dedicates her days to work, friends, art, and taking it easy

jeff's days r kinda sad. he spends a lot of time just lounging around, fast food, music, movies, wasting time. he goes to a lot of underground shows where he can wear masks or get away with ppl thinking his face is SFX, but he cant really hang out in public half the time. lives in the barn. a medical mask goes a long way for him!

nina hops between a ton of jobs at first (waitress, hot topic, spencers, was even a receptionist at a hotel, just random stuff in general) before she ends up going to cosmetology school and falls in love with it, now does nails/hair fulltime. her days look like calling her friends, going out everyday(brunch, nightlife, shopping, etc), decorating her apartment, lots of fashion stuff, etc etc.

liu works a pretty basic office job just to get by. it was the first job he could get after wasting all his spendings in a downwards spiral to find jeff in alabama, but its quiet, simple, and the people are nice to him. he mostly does that and very simple stuff...puzzles, gardening, reading, films. very grandpa of him

jane starts as a private investigator, so her days look like being swarmed with work, going undercover, hours of research and stress. no time for hobbies, just work and taking care of her wife mary. eventually, she decides its too much for her (after liu hires her to investigate nina) and mary encourages a new career path - SO she becomes a college professor for law/criminal justice/something along those lines! days look like volunteering, teaching, organizing, walks in the park with mary and sally, gardening, just a much softer, cozier life

ZALGOIDS (jack, lazari, ann, lulu, dina)

jack 'works' as a human remains disposer on the dark web, so his income is Plentiful and he doesnt have to spend a dime on food, since he just eats the corpses he's disposing of. his days look like listening to audiobooks/documentaries, cooking for people he loves, learning as much as he can, tending to the proxies(as 'rent' to stay in slendys forest), teaching lazari as much as he can, spending time with his friends, gardening

lazari lives with jack! he almost homeschools her, so she spends a lot of time learning, drawing, dressing up, watching cartoons, gardening. i think itd be cute if she befriended ben cuz theyre abt the same age, but theyre like...so different. maybe this is how she starts spending her free time idk LOL

ann and lulu are VERY zombie-like. they literally just sit in the hospital/lake are all day long, roaming and talking and dozing in and out of reality. when the proxies come to check on them, theyll chat, but its nothing else. it's not really 'boring' for them, cuz theyre so trapped in timeloops and stuff, so yk

dina is just tearing apart the forest and trying to survive. she cant leave it because the slender pages keep zalgoids trapped in the forest, but she refuses to work with the proxies - so she's constantly on the run, constantly killing and eating animals, constantly in fights when shes trying to take down the pages, etc. eventually she'll settle down, but thats for later

PARANORMAL (ben, sally)

ben is chronically online im sorry. genuinely spends every waking moment online, but like...literally inside the computer. he loves the internet, loves online cultures, loves all you can learn about it, loves drama and causing problems. his days look like the internet, video games, and hanging out with jeff (and maybe toby or jack)

sally lives with jane. her days are pretty simple, just wandering around janes house, the neighborhood, whatever. watching cartoons, coloring, talking to mary (janes stay at home wife), whatever.

[netbug009]

okay lemme shut up about shipping and theories and whatnot and just talk about how mental health was handled in this episode in general for a bit because it's taken me this long to process it into words

Spoilers for TADC 4, discussions of mental health issues including masking, emotional personality disorders, and suicide ideation

So like... Personal info: I have autism, depression, and anxiety on paper with PTSD penciled in and still being sorted out. I used to be diagnosed with bipolar disorder, but at this point I'm not - we're not sure if the mood swings are just all of the above forming a weird gloopy mess or possibly something else? I'm finally getting through the waitlist for a proper behavioral health specialist in January after waiting for AGES so I'll hopefully have more answers soon, but that's who I am and where I'm at for anybody curious.

Point is, I felt REALLY deeply seen by this episode. I've been that person "masking" at work and in other social situations. I've been that person told I'm annoying when I'm happy. I have a deep understanding of bipolar disorder whether I have it or not because I learned about it for years. I knew this one was going to hit me personally from what we knew before it dropped but holy SHIT. There's a few nuances in particular here that really got to me and I don't usually see handled this way in fiction, probably because they're a bit more depressing and less universal than handling it in a way that feels more decisive, and executives at big studios aren't crazy about either of those things.

The big one for me was how Pomni handled the situation.

Pomni is a kind person. As she's previously stated, she doesn't want anybody to feel like they're nothing, so she's willing to help, but... she's also tired. She's got her own things going on. Before letting Gangle be the third person in as many episodes to lean on her, she checks in to see if Gangle has someone closer she can talk to.

Pomni isn't a perfect, Godlike hero - she has her limits, and she puts up a soft boundary for herself of asking Gangle if someone else can take the load. She's clearly ready to listen if that's not possible, but she does the fair thing to try and put her own oxygen mask on first.

That nuance really got me and sort of ties into the overarching way this episode handled the whole ordeal: Nobody is at fault for how this episode went, or how the adventure ultimately ended, and nobody blames themselves for it.

Pomni isn't treated like her efforts to help "weren't enough" but also doesn't get shouldered with the credit for "saving" Gangle - that's not how mental illness works. While being kind to others can have a major positive impact, it's not fair for people left behind when someone passes due to suicide or suicidally reckless behavior like manic episodes often include to blame themselves for "not doing enough."

Likewise, Zooble doesn't blame themselves for Gangle's misery, simple acknowledging that their idea didn't work and that they'd help their friend keep trying.

Even CAINE isn't really an antagonist in this one. In fact, he's the LEAST antagonistic he's ever been, choosing an adventure from the group's suggestions and actively trying to support their ideas. He literally did nothing wrong in this one beyond maybe being a bit insensitive in places.

There's just something really... refreshing and unexpected about that to me. I'm not saying it's bad for shows to actively address these issues by talking through them less subtly, but there's something about how casually this episode handles it. Nobody is the bad guy. Nobody actively makes a choice to harm Gangle, except maybe Jax with a rude comment because he's Jax - not even Gangle herself.

Mental illness just be like that sometimes.

[skyloftian-nutcase]

Outbreak Pt 3 (LU in Healthcare)

(Content warning, this is a plague fic, it will likely hit close to home, and there’s dark humor and character death in this part)

It started off as a whisper, but the whisper became a chatter, a groan, constant and disturbing and growing ever closer.

Cases were on the rise in the city, though the surrounding area seemed unaffected still, for now. City officials were growing concerned, and restrictions were starting to be enacted. People were asked to stay home, if possible. As for the hospital and squads…

Hyrule squinted at his email. "Wait. Didn't... didn't they say we could use alcohol wipes to clean the equipment?"

"Yeah," Mo called from the kitchenette in the station.

"Now it says we can only use bleach wipes."

Mo groaned. "Isn't that like the third policy change this week?"

"I'm still trying to figure out if we're doing a specific isolation truck or not anymore," Aurora mumbled. "Like we just had one truck dedicated to the high risk iso cases, and now we're getting so many calls for it that it's a moot point anyway."

"I think the last email said put plastic over everything for Arfy patients and then wipe everything down that you use," Mo replied.

"Wait, which email?"

Hyrule sighed. This was getting ridiculous. And he was getting just a little nervous. “When in doubt, just bleach everything, I guess.”

Aurora huffed. “Did you see the email about the respirators?”

“Which email?” Mo threw his hands in the air, exasperated. “I’ve got twenty new emails!”

“I suppose that means you’ll actually have to read them now,” Aurora noted with a snort.

“Do you all think it’ll get worse before it gets better?” Dawn asked, wringing her hands worriedly. “The OMD made it sound like that would be the case.”

“Our medical director knows more than I do,” Hyrule shrugged. “If he says it’s going to get worse—”

“No, he didn’t just say that, he said ‘it’s not a matter of if the wave hits us, but when,’” Aurora quoted, standing. “He scared the hell out of Dawn.”

“They’re pretty foreboding words,” Hyrule commented darkly, looking away. It was the main reason he was getting nervous. But he was also steeling himself. If they were in for a fight, he would face it head on.

“Okay, but what does any of this have to do with the email about the respirators?” Mo asked as he scrolled frantically through his email.

“Oh, we’re supposed to wear N95s now,” Aurora answered with a wave of her hand.

Hyrule blinked. “Wait. Aren’t—aren’t we supposed to get fit tested for those?”

“Oh, yeah,” Aurora nodded, rolling her eyes. “Here’s your official fit test: pick a mask that fits.”

“We’re all going to die, aren’t we?” Dawn questioned worriedly, hugging herself.

“Nobody’s died from Arfy yet, I don’t think,” Mo noted. “At least not here.”

“People have died,” Aurora corrected.

“Well, maybe we’ll die, then,” Mo amended.

Hyrule laughed while Aurora swatted his partner. Well… at least they’d die fighting. But he really hoped it wouldn’t get to that point.

While the rescue squads struggled to keep up with policies and slapped shoddy safety regulations into place, the hospital clamped down even further. Visitor policies had officially been revoked as of today, and it made all the providers somewhat uneasy.

In some aspects, it was helpful. In others, it made things that much harder.

Arfy patients were medical patients. Which meant the medical floor and ICU was quickly filling up while other parts of the hospital either maintained their quota or decreased as people stayed home. More and more, Four found himself floating to his friend’s ICU, and he felt fairly out of his depths about it. The one good thing was that he got to spend time with Dot. But as cases rose, so did the stress, the worry, and the heartache.

The ICU felt less like a unit where critically ill people got better and more like a place to go to die.

Four and Dot had the same patient assignment for four days in a row. It was the same assignment because nothing had changed with the patients. Intubated, sedated, paralyzed, some proned. The amount of sedation required to keep their patients under was far more than Four was used to, and it was insane how little it would take for their oxygen saturation to drop. Any semblance of activity in the body increased oxygen demand, and the instant oxygen demand increased, no amount of intervention from the ventilator seemed to help. ECMO was a word Four had hardly heard in his trauma ICU, but he heard it on a near daily basis now, being considered at rounds, being initiated with someone else’s patient.

Four was exhausted. His face was breaking out from wearing a respirator for twelve hours at a time. His feet and knees and hips hurt from standing in isolation rooms for three to four hours at a time trying to cluster all his care. And now, with the visitor restriction enacted…

Visitors were hit or miss, particularly in Four’s world. Trauma precipitated drama, and while family could be infinitely helpful and supportive, he’d also seen things go awry, had to deescalate fights or call security. In some aspects, he was thankful there were no visitors while all of this was happening; he was tired of having to explain that yes, you have to wear this gown and gloves and mask, no you can’t kiss your loved one while they’re intubated and sedated with a contagious disease… but still. He couldn’t imagine how hard it was on the family - the patients were sedated to the point that they shouldn’t be aware of anything, but the family had to agonize over the matter at home.

He didn’t like it. He understand the logic. But he didn’t like it.

And so here he sat, holding a patient’s hand while they withdrew care. Here he sat, being the only witness to someone’s last breaths while their family mourned from afar.

Four watched the heart rate steadily drop. He watched the oxygen saturation plummet. He muted the red alarms as the monitor screamed that his patient was dying, that something should be done, like an accusation and call to arms when Four knew this particular fight was over.

He wasn’t a particularly religious person, but he said a prayer for the patient and the family either way. He found himself praying a lot these days, honestly.

While the visitor policy took its toll inside the frame of work, the restrictions both inside and outside the hospital were causing further stress on everyone. Warriors had basically banned Wind from seeing him, opting to stay with Time and Malon instead, leaving the kid in the apartment. He brought food deliveries to the door, asked if Wind needed anything, but he always did so when Wind wasn’t awake - the teenager had swore up and down that if anybody got Arfy he’d take care of them, and Warriors was terrified of that promise as it was basically a threat. Time agreed that Wind didn’t need to get involved, much to the teenager’s chagrin, and Wind found himself already struggling from the loneliness and the frustration of trying to study for classes online when nobody knew what they were doing or how long this would last.

Meanwhile, Wild sat in his room, fingers aimlessly tracing over each other, the smell of bleach so fresh in his nose from scrubbing everything relentlessly for hours on end that he might as well have inhaled a bottle of it. His chest hurt. Not to mention that new disinfectant they were told to use made him cough a lot.

And he worried. Because… it had been a few days since he’d seen his father. Legend had given him updates through his sister (and made Wild swear not to tell anyone about her), and it had sounded like he was improving as expected. But now, he… the rest of the family…

It felt like a blessing and a curse. It was a guarantee that Wild couldn’t run into his mother or sister by accident, but it was also a situation that his mind screamed that he address.

He couldn’t just… he couldn’t just leave his father isolated and alone recovering in the hospital in the midst of an outbreak. He couldn’t.

But what if visiting him made things so much worse? What if it stressed his father’s recovering heart? What if it triggered more traumatic memories for Wild? He was terrified of getting anywhere near the man while he was awake, but his heart screamed that he go to him.

Wild refused to be a coward. And he refused to be heartless, despite how anxious this entire situation made him, despite how his mind screamed he keep away. So that night, when he got on to work, he took a delivery to the cardiovascular ICU and paused in front of a doorway, looking hopefully for a familiar nurse.

“Link? Wild?”

Jumping, Wild turned around to see the nurse in question, watching him scrutinously. She smiled (or at least, he assumed she did, based on how her eye crinkled above her mask) in recognition. “I thought it was you. You here to see your dad?”

Wild swallowed and nodded.

“Good, because the drama I’ve been trying to avoid has been driving me insane,” Legend’s sister said lightheartedly, but despite the casualness of her tone, the words sank into Wild’s stomach like a stone.

“Drama?” He questioned quietly.

“Nothing like… bad, I suppose, but still,” the nurse explained. “I’d be in there taking care of him and overhear him talking to his wife and he’d mention that he swore he saw you. I’m not entirely sure she’s convinced. She seems hopeful, though. But I figured it was best not to bring it up myself since I, ah, don’t know what’s going on.”

Wild felt his blood freeze. His father remembered? And he’d told his mother?

Great. This was… this was just great.

“Go see him,” Legend’s sister prompted gently. “I can tell he loves you very much and just wants to know you’re ok.”

Wild’s eyes unexpectedly burned with tears in an instant, and he was grateful he was wearing a mask to hide his expression. He nodded, hesitantly making his way towards the room.

It all seemed so normal, seeing his father sitting in a recliner looking at his phone. Wild wasn’t even entirely sure he’d recovered memories of his father like that, but somehow it seemed familiar. Abel hadn’t noticed him yet, engrossed in whatever he was looking at, brow slightly furrowed. That expression drew memories, a familiar scrutiny that he would often give Wild himself or his sister, a quiet concern and sternness that made Wild want to stiffen up and simultaneously run to him.

Damn it all, he’d missed him.

Wild swallowed his fears and stepped forward, hoping that this wouldn’t be a disaster. He knocked on the door, initially so quietly that his father didn’t hear him over the chatter of the news on the television. He knocked again.

His father looked up. Stared a moment. Went a shade paler.

Wild hastily stepped forward. “W-wait, don’t get worked up—”

His father stood, seeming mostly steady on his feet, and tried to walk to him, heedless of the cords and oxygen tubing attached, and Wild hastily met him part of the way before he ripped everything out of the wall. Abel immediately pulled him to his chest in the tightest hug Wild had ever felt, and…

And Link sank into the embrace, crying.

[covid-safer-hotties]

An article from April that still holds true (Also preserved in our archive)

By Danielle Chiriguayo

Reda Rountree and her family have long been the cautious type — always wearing seatbelts, looking both ways before crossing the street, and in the earliest days of the pandemic, constantly wearing masks. If she dared to see another living soul, it had to be outdoors.

But in December 2020, COVID breached the safety of their home. Everyone in her family caught the virus and eventually recovered from their mild bouts.

But the 48-year-old from Eagle Rock didn’t bounce back like everyone else in her family. Pre-pandemic, Rountree was an active person. She got her 10,000 daily steps in while juggling long hours as a music publicist and president of her kids’ PTSA.

Her illness put an end to all of that. At first, she chalked her symptoms up to stress and grief. Rountree lost her mom at the beginning of the pandemic.

“I'm looking back on my life from those days, and what I really truly thought was depression, which was sleeplessness and feeling fatigued constantly, fluctuations in my blood pressure,” Rountree explains. “What had happened with my mother and then catching COVID that same year, I really just attributed to being rundown.”

In February 2023, Rountree’s symptoms came to a head. As she was leaving her kids’ high school, she was unable to walk to her car — less than half the length of a football field. She was admitted to the hospital. Her blood pressure bottomed out.

“I had a close call where they took out the paddles,” she recalls. “I thought I was going to die and that it was the end.”

No one understood what was wrong with her.

“Everyone in the hospital said, ‘It's all in your head. It's stress. Maybe you're depressed. Oh, it must be mental illness.’ And everyone just brushed me off and dismissed me,” she says. “And then I started thinking, well, maybe it is all in my head.”

What is long COVID — and why is it such a mystery? It would be another grueling four months before doctors would confirm that it wasn’t all in her head. Rountree is one of the estimated 17 million Americans who suffer from long COVID, an umbrella term for what the CDC has identified as new or recurring symptoms that don’t go away after an acute SARS-CoV-2 infection. The CDC estimates that 1 out of every 9 people who have caught COVID experience long COVID. To date, the agency has identified more than 200 long COVID symptoms, including fatigue, brain fog, nerve pain, and shortness of breath.

For years, the illness has confounded patients and doctors alike. In some cases, it’s led to misdiagnoses — the condition’s broad and nonspecific range of symptoms can present as an equally varied number of other illnesses.

“There were several weeks where we thought perhaps I had Parkinson's disease, because so many symptoms mimicked Parkinson's,” Rountree says. “But then I had a variety of other symptoms on top of those. I had started having seizure-like events, tics, similar to a tic disorder, and a myriad of other symptoms. And we just didn't know what was wrong.”

“We should have the answer” Dr. Nisha Viswanathan is the program director of the UCLA Health Long COVID Program. Since opening in 2022, she’s seen an influx of patients, including Rountree, who come in exasperated, searching for answers and relief.

The confusion extends to medical providers. Viswanathan says working with the disease has been incredibly humbling, even as a trained professional: “Our ability to diagnose and treat and understand all these medical conditions is so much greater than it's ever been at any point in history. And it really makes you feel that anybody who comes in, we should have the answer to any of their medical problems.”

She adds, “When you come into this profession to really not only do no harm but to maybe alleviate suffering and to feel that maybe you don't have the tools to do that, it can be incredibly saddening.”

It’s taken the medical community four years to begin to better grasp what long COVID is — and that it’s a legitimate condition. The National Institutes of Health (NIH) is in the midst of a years-long study examining the long-term impact of COVID in adults.

“Many patients had noted that they felt gaslighted by the medical community, when they were presenting with these symptoms after their COVID infections and were often told, ‘These are just in your head,’” Viswanathan shares, “I can say, overwhelmingly, the medical community now understands that long COVID is a true condition, and is better at identifying when patients may be struggling with it.”

Who gets long COVID, and how is it diagnosed? Women are two times more likely than men to develop long COVID, Viswanathan says. Trans people and people with disabilities are also the most commonly affected by long COVID, according to the CDC’s Household Pulse Survey.

Diagnosing long COVID is so difficult in part because there are currently no tests that can specifically determine whether someone has it.

Viswanathan and her 10-person team of internal medicine doctors and other specialists use what’s called a diagnosis of exclusion.

“We exclude other medical conditions before we say that patients have long COVID,” she explains. “And that requires a comprehensive workup to verify that there's not another medical problem that could be causing our patients’ symptomatology.”

The process includes an exhaustive review of patient medical histories, as well as thorough questionnaires, which doctors use to understand the severity of patient symptoms and how their mental health is fairing.

As of 2021, the federal government recognizes long COVID as a protected disability under the American with Disabilities Act.

Treating long COVID: An uncertain path to recovery There is no cure for long COVID or medications to specifically treat it. Treatment can be piecemeal, directed to the specific symptoms each patient experiences. Sometimes, the illness improves or completely resolves on its own.

“Is it like cancer, which we say is in remission?” Viswanathan asks. “Or do we say this is a long COVID resolved, they're permanently cured? We have no way of saying that yet, because we have no way of following them at the molecular level.”

While Rountree’s long COVID diagnosis has given her validation and emotional relief, treating it remains precarious. She has enrolled in lung retraining classes through UCLA’s partnership with the LA Opera, which have helped alleviate pain and make it easier to breathe. She also does weekly acupuncture, which helps address inflammation.

Still, Rountree remains on what appears to be a downward health spiral. She was forced to resign as president of her kids’ PTSA and is no longer able to work. Just last year, she was hospitalized four times.

Rountree has also been diagnosed with postural orthostatic tachycardia syndrome (POTS), a circulatory condition causing lightheadedness and fainting that has forced her to use a wheelchair. Chronic fatigue and pain upon inhaling are among her daily challenges.

But Rountree finds relief in the daily strides emerging alongside them. She has a new personal record of how long she can stand: three minutes.

“It's hard. It's frustrating. … And sometimes, exercise makes symptoms worse,” Rountree says. “I can walk a very short distance. But honestly, this time last year, I didn't know if I was going to even be able to do that.”

Scientists are making new long COVID breakthroughs all the time. There are new and existing treatments that are available to patients, like lung retraining and prescribing SSRIs to treat low serotonin levels. The National Institutes of Health has also boosted its funding for long COVID research by nearly half a billion dollars over the next four years.

Ultimately, one thing about long COVID remains definitive — the only way to prevent it, is to not catch COVID in the first place.

[lighthouseshepard]

I know you just had top surgery - how was it? How was the healing process? I’m scared to death of surgery but I desperately need these off

HI NYX!!! ok im gonna try and be as brief and concise as possible because theres honestly quite a lot i could talk about but! heres some thoughts under the cut

so honestly as someone who has had a few surgeries in the past for other medical issues - this ranked VERY low on the pain scale. maybe a 4/10 tops at its worst (although i do understand everyone is different). the surgeon kept telling me "many people do not find this operation particularly painful" and i did not believe him one bit until afterwards. i had prescription pain medicne and antibiotics to take, but honestly i only needed the prescription medicine for about 3 days, and then after that i was fine with tylenol. after a week really i didnt need to take anything consistently, it was here or there if i happened to start moving around too much.

the worst part for me overall was the BANDAGES. after you wake up youre gonna be wrapped within an inch if your life with ike 2 inches of gauze and tape and an ace wrap holding it all together. if you have drains (which i did) you can't shower until they're out and the bandages come off, anywhere from 5 to 7 days usually. mine was 7 days and i was miserable. the drain emptying wasnt that bad tbh, someone helped me the first 2 times and then i was able to do it myself afterwards. if youre bad with blood or bodily fluids then youll def need someone to help you there. the drain removal process, to be completely honest, was. also bad. it lasted maybe five seconds per drain but i didnt breathe right like they told me to and had a vasovagal reaction and passed out. i dont say this to dissuade you! but it was not pleasant

the main thing probably is gonna be stiffness and soreness. you literally won't be able to do anything with your arms for at least a few days - its bordering on 2 weeks for me and im just now able to pull a shirt over my head without stiffness. you DEFINITELY will need someone to help you with basic tasks those first few days, getting food, getting dressed, etc. some ppl get bruising on their chest just from the skin being manipulated and etc but surprisingly i havent had any bruising yet?

also!! again some places differ, but mine was a same day surgery. after a few hours of waking up i was able to be bundled into the car back to the hotel. youre gonna be really groggy but i was able to walk just fine, albeit very slowly with help. the surgery itself was the blink of an eye to me. i remember them putting an o2 mask over my face and then i was OUT. seconds later i was being dragged up out of unconscious well by the nurse's voice.

ill say too, i 100% understand the nervousness and fear. the 2 weeks leading up to the surgery were like. awful andnsnjf. i was so anxious and terrified of the pain only to find it genuinely was not that bad at all. you know the this too shall pass lighter i have. i slept with that clutched in my hand the entire night before surgery. it was very much a "do it scared" situation and having those things of comfort and reassurance whatever they are to you can help immensely. and i did do it! and the relief i felt a week after when i finally got to see made literally all of it worth it. theres still healing to go (i took a month off work also) but im taking it very slowly and trying not to rush enjoyment of this body c: most of the healing process has been letting the body do its natural work and being patient with it, a thing i am usually not. i still have to dress the area for another 2 weeks maybe, but then i can start scar care!!!

[cherrycilly]

Old fashioned gangster 🚬 chapter 3

Infamous gangster tommy shelby found himself through a portal in modern times, what can go wrong

(takes place somewhere between seasons 4-6 of peaky blinders)

Chapter 3- in which tommy wants to go home.

"Sweetheart ,I didn't mean to upset you" he says,his voice not as sure. "You didnt" she answers him in a soft voice as she stands up to open the white wooden door,only a small pick, to look at the strange man in her apartment, "you just reminded me so much or him.." she says ,her voice full of strange melancholy. "What was his name?" Tommy suddenly asks, it was a polite way to continue a conversation, not that the name will ever matter to him ,"it was uh-" she looked up at Tommy's blue ocean eyes ,they were such a shade of blue that could make you drown in them, like someone bottled the ocean and put it inside him ,and just like the ocean ,his eyes were full of turmoil and sadness, a sadness no modern man will experience and she was falling in to it, "did he die?" Tommy suddenly interrupts, "no" she shakes her head ,"just left"..

"Well the past is in the past sweetheart" he says it in a way that makes his voice sound like a command, he was commanding her to forget, "what do you mean? Do you not ever think of people from your past?" She asks, challenging his views of the past, "i don't." He lies and looks to the side, how can he ever admit there hasn't been a day where he didn't think about grace, and John and greta and his comrades from the war and every single person he ever took from this world ,he could never wash their blood away, he looks down at his hands and then back up at the room around him, "right, I need to find a way back" he mumbles, "back where?" She interferes , "home." He says bluntly, "where is your home?" She tilts her head again as he starts pacing,he didn't even listen to her as he paced the small apartment, "i don't fucking know, it's.......right we need to find a gypsy "

"Again with the gypsy things.." she sighs "you need a doctor not a- romani person "she corrects herself "don't tell me what i need,I know what i fucking need!" He huffs and looks out of the window again,a pang of dread runs through him that he quickly masks with a mask of coldness and indifference "A doctor? I was transported through time, and you're suggesting a doctor can help?" He says with annoyance.

"If you won't help me I'll go me self" tommy was always resourceful and this time it was no different as he turned his heel to walk through her door to the world he knew nothing about, "wait hold on where are you going!" She yelps ,Tommy pauses midway to the door, his hand on the knob. He turns back to her, a mixture of frustration and determination in his eyes. "I have to find a way back, and I don't have time to waste with doctors who won't believe a word I say," he responds, his voice firm. Y/n bites her lip, she couldn't believe she is doing it but something about tommy was hard to resist, maybe because he looked so much like-, "fine fine I'll help you! Just stand right there ill grab my coat!" .

The cold air of bermingam bites at her skin as she pulls the coat over her waist ,tommy didn't seem to mind the cold at all ,he walks confidently looking around, if he was freaked out he didn't show it,his face as stoic as ever ,he was determined to find a tribe of gypsies to give him a spell ,a hope, anything.

"So uh what you gonna do when you find that gypsy witch " she runs trying to keep up with his long strides and his coat in the wind , "where are we even going" she asks again, almost like a child .

Tommy keeps a steady pace, barely slowing down to accommodate her shorter strides. He casts a quick glance at her, his expression still serious.

"When I find her, I'll request that she performs a ritual or uses her knowledge to try and send me back to me own time," he replies bluntly. "As for where we're going, I have a general idea of where the Gypsy community resides in this area."

"Oh simple enough " she sighs tiredly as suddenly he turns to her "do you own a car? It will be faster to get there" he says, "you know what a car is?" Her surprise just made him roll his eyes "I'm am from 1925, not 1295" he says with slight amusement, "right! OK well uh i ..do have a car but I am not sure you'd know-" without even hearing the entire thing tommy was on his way to the parking lot ,she sighs again as she pulls out her keyes, the small silver car beeped to signal to her owner and tommy confidently walked towards it as if he drove it for years "keyes." He says bluntly, "w..what ,no! You are clearly sick and not getting my keyes ,I'll drive!" She tries to match Tommy's confidence, "fine. Just drive to the nearest woods" he says bluntly and gets in to the passenger seat, "great it's a Tuesday morning and instead of going to work i do this" she mumbles to herself and gets in. Tommy slides into the passenger seat, shutting the door with a thud. He looks at her, a hint of understanding in his gaze. "Believe me, I'm just as thrilled as you are about this situation," he mutters sarcastically.

After a long drive, they finally find a semblance of a forest, tommy's awe at the high skyscrapers quickly died down as the familiar trees appeared . Tommy gazes out the window, taking in the dense forest surrounding them. He rubs his chin thoughtfully, his mind racing with possibilities. "So..what now?" She asks

"Now, we hike deeper into the forest," he replies. "The Gypsy camp should be hidden within the trees. It won't be easy to find, so we have to keep our senses sharp for any clues or signs." , "you can't be serious.." she looks at him with a tired expression . "You can stay in the car" he open the car door and steps out "fuck he is insane" she sighs and turns off the engine. Tommy doesn't acknowledge her mumbling, his focus entirely on the task at hand. He walks to the edge of the forest, his gaze fixed on the thick foliage."Come on," he called back, his voice all business. "We haven't got all day." His voice commanding and stern awakens something in her as she quickly follows him, this was HER time and he was running it like he already knows everything, such a strange man.

[narrators-journal]

Grass is greener

Okay! So, I only did the barest of skims on Feitan’s wiki as a refresher for this, and then just wung the rest off of memory. So, this might be a bit hit or miss on characterization, but I hope it’s still a good read. It came a lot easier than I thought it would, probably just because I think it’s funny to imagine someone as cruel and blood thirsty as Feitan being domestic, and maybe a little bitter about how, deep down, he’s okay with that, or enjoys it. Either way! I knocked it out p quick, and I hope you have fun reading it like I did writing it.

It felt like only a few years back, Feitan Portor had been a name that was feared across the country. His sadism had been a nightmare for just about everybody, good or bad, acquaintance, friend, or enemy. There had only been one other person who seemed to have the spine to challenge his reputation, and he’d ended up marrying that person. Together, the two had became a whole new source of fear for people.

In reality, though, that had been at least sixteen years ago now. Nowadays, the most blood the ravenette saw came from the steaks he’d order rare on date nights. The most torture he got to inflict came whenever he got the chance to teach his sixteen-year-old daughter his tactics, or on those few, rare times the two of you were able to get a full night completely free of your trio of children. Most of his day-to-day, though, was packed with far less exciting things. Parent-teacher meetings, cleaning, debates on whether or not his second youngest would be a headache or not.

God, I miss the spiders… He thought as he plucked the mushrooms out of his toddler son’s chubby hands before he could ‘stealthily’ swap it for more marshmallows. I’d even welcome Uvogin into my life again. Or, maybe I can talk Phinks into letting me torment him. Lord knows he makes enough jokes to deserve it. “Papa, papa, papa!” His hyperactive daughter chanted at the same time with a jumbo-sized box of colorful, sugary cereal held up to try and distract him from her baby brother. “Put it back, you don’t need it.” He sighed with barely a glance offered to the girl as he put his hand protectively back on the mushrooms in the cart. “But I want it!” “No.” “But I want it.” “No.” “But I want it.” She insisted stubbornly, and Feitan took a moment to ‘think’ before he responded to that one with a flat, “No.” Which, got him a very pissed off look from the little girl and a snort from his eldest daughter.

Thankfully, you returned from the depths of the store at that point, quick to snatch away the cereal and plop it back onto the store shelf. “Leave your father, and the mushrooms, alone. You guys already have sweets and cereal in the cart.” You reminded, and shut the conversation down with a swiftness. Which, made the ravenette glare at you while he watched you unclip the toddler’s child harness from his belt so that you could pick the little boy up an ease that made him smile slightly behind his face mask.

After all, of course a squirmy, mushroom-hating tot was nothing for you. If you were able to pin and go toe-to-toe with Feitan, a miniature version of you surely weighed less than a ten pound bag of rice. Maybe that’s why you have such an easier time at this than I do. He thought at you with a hint of bitterness in his own internal voice. Though, whether that came from his restlessness, or the bit of jealousy that seemed to permanently linger, even after your marriage. Though, at the same time that Feitan wished ill upon you for the sheer enjoyment of it, his attraction to you grew stronger.

How could it not? He knew how strong you were, and it was a thrill to see you use that strength to carry one of his children so easily. It proved to the ravenette that you could still fight him if you wanted, and he very much wanted to fight. “-tan? Hey, hun.” Your words abruptly flopped onto the train tracks of his thoughts to drag the pale man back to reality. Back to the commercially scented aisles of the shop and the cookies that you held out to him. “Can you go put this back and retrieve the mushrooms?” “Right.” He muttered, his mood curbed by the triumphant giggle of his second oldest child as he went back to find the mushrooms once again and return the cookies.

On the bright side, He told himself as he passed chips, dips, and bread loaves, When the spiders do finally reconvene, I’ll have at least one daughter trained in my ways. Maybe both of them if it takes long enough. I’m sure Chrollo would be very happy with that. As if Feitan would actually let his children follow the morbid life path you and him went down. Despite being a sadist, he wasn’t a Zoldyck. He wasn’t so morally bankrupt to wish his children the same difficulties he has had to deal with.

Feitan was a bit restless and unaccustomed to the domesticity of family life, yes. But, it still brought him joy to find his family in the maze of shop aisles and hear his younger daughter lisp indignantly, “But you don’t thtop her from buying candy!” “That’s because your sister’s buying that stuff with her own money, and she’s not fighting me on mushrooms.” You pointed out, before the teenage copy of himself stage whispered, “I’m also the favorite.” to relish in yours and her sister’s denial of that fact.

It wasn’t as good as the fear Feitan used to induce in people, but at least he could find joy in the knowledge that his children could be just as mean as him.