Tumgik
#this is really just like. driving home how fucking isolated i am. like i have basically no friends in this city.
opens-up-4-nobody · 1 year
Text
...
#ok. so the guy from school i visited emailed me today like: good news! we unanimously voted to extend u an offer here#so expect the formal offer in the next week. and im like uuuugh i wanna say yes so bad#bc in the us i would have more flexibility in the program than i would in the uk#and my options in the us r either to b a big fish in a small pond at this schoolor a little fish in a big pond at the other#bc this school is underfunded and a bit isolated out in the mountains but the staff r pretty great and big egos dont seem like a big issue#but if i go to the other school its like a big well funded school. the application was like 75 dollars. fuck u and really annoying#and i mean id have to live in new jersey. so in the city with city driving and prob a more high pressure school environment#and more of a chance of dealing with big egos. but like career wise im sure it would b good. assuming i don't mentally collapse#but i mean that doesnt seem as fun as spending 5 years out in the rocky mountains#like thry have fucking moose and bears! there were deer and turkeys in town!#and my dad just sent me a video of all the spring peepers singing back home and im like 😭 bc froggies and he was like i bet u could find#frogs out in [redacted city] and im like 😭 ur right. it just seems like the better choice for my poor overtaxed brain and the project is#so cool too. i want to get the cyano species as my computer background asap. and the guy is nice and apparently super supportive#and i could probably walk to hiking trails. god. i mean i have to say yes to that. i wanna say yes so bad. send me the formal offer bro#ill fucking take it before i even hear back from the other schools lol. ugh. i hate making choices#oof i am so excited to kno where im going and plan my departure. its gonna b such a pain moving tho i pray that my mum or dad can drive#with me bc otherwise the 20hr drive by myself might kill me. thats almost as bad as my initial move out here lol. the us is so big#ugh. again choices. is this the right choice? probably one of the biggest decisions of my life. the project feels so right. cyanobacteria#my algal group of choice. and hot springs. how tf do u say to no to that? i mean. id b doing that in new jersey too but with red algae#ugh. put me out of this misery lol. also as an aside. shout out to my fucking disaster brain for not being able to focus on a single thing#my boss in a meeting: so glad to have students and staff so excited to b working on this project!! me: lady i hate that im on this project#bc im just sitting in until they can get an actual student. i just do what im told but appreciate the enthusiasm lol#ay. im so tired. i wanna see the snow and mountains. and fix my head. and get outta the desert. and listen to frogs 🐸 😌#unrelated
9 notes · View notes
thecuriousquest · 6 months
Text
Baby Bird Part Two
Tag List: @issamomma @repostingmyfavs @chickennugnugnugs
Request: Heyy! Really enjoyed reading ur Hawks fic:) Would u be interested in a part 2 like what happens after the online learning starts? Maybe she tries to sneak out of her window to see friends from school and hawks catches her? Thank you 🫶🏽(Love all ur fics btw)
Warnings: Platonic yandere themes, spanking/corporal punishment mentioned (reader doesn’t actually get spanked), isolation punishment mentioned, sleep deprivation, sensory deprivation, reader tied to chair
Part One Here.
Checkout my Master List here.
—————————————————————————
Tumblr media
Keigo has gone through the entire list of punishments. He has taken you away from schooling, given you extra chores, and makes you wake up early to do extra studying.
So why, WHY, aren’t you responding well?
After all of this, you’re still trying to sneak out of the house to go visit your friends from school.
He hates thinking about using corporal punishment, but what choice are you really giving him? Your stubborn attitude needs to be stopped.
Keigo wakes up on a regular Thursday night, hearing rustling coming from outside of the house. His feathers can sense abnormal vibrations, and he gets up to checkout everything.
Low and behold, you’re hanging from your fucking window, your friends looking as if they’re about to catch you.
Keigo rests his elbows on your window sill and give you a blood curling smile.
“So, you just hangin’ around out here at three am?”
“Keigo…you were supposed to be asleep.”
You feel feathers lifting you up under your arms. They guide you back inside as Keigo takes a step back to let you in.
Sticking his head back out, Keigo shouts at your friends, “Sorry about all of this. My baby sister is being a naughty little girl, and she’s about to be punished. I’m sure you understand. Be safe getting home!”
He shuts your window and whirls on you.
“What the hell’s the matter with you?!”
“What’s the matter with me? That was so fucking embarrassing, Keigo! Why would you say that to my friends?!”
“Don’t you dare try to turn this on me. You were the one trying to sneak out AGAIN. What the hell has gotten into you?”
You clench your hair in your fists and pull on your locks out of frustration before stomping your foot against the ground. “You took everything from me! I hate homeschooling, and I hate not being able to see my friends even more!”
“That was your punishment for going out behind my back. Obviously, I wasn’t hard enough on you because you’re still pulling the same crap!”
You glare at him with glistening eyes, and for a few moments, you two stare at each other in an unspoken challenge. His intense gaze gets the better of you, and you end up looking away from him.
Keigo plucks a feather from his wings and looks at you. “You gonna act like a little kid? I’ll just have to treat you like one. Thought I wouldn’t have to do this, but nothing I do seems to work.”
Taking a step back, you hold your hand up to ward him off. “Wait, Keigo, don’t! You don’t have to do this! I’ll listen. I swear, please, just- fuck, no!”
You high tail it out of your room. You know him well enough by now. He probably just sent a feather after you, but you still try to run from him.
Correct in your thinking, a feather dips into your hoodie, pulling you upwards by the collar of your sweatshirt. You kick your legs, screaming for your brother to put you down.
“Actually, I think a spanking isn’t severe enough for this. I’ve got a better idea in mind.”
———
You whine as you struggle against the kitchen chair that you’re now tied to. With duct tape over your mouth, he places a pair of headphones over your ears which play a continuous stream of static.
And then, Keigo covers your eyes so you can’t even go by the clock on the wall.
———
You have no idea how long you’ve been like this. It could be one hour. It could be all night. You really can’t tell. The static sounds the same, and it’s driving you crazy. It’s the same noise over and over again. You scream for Keigo to turn it off, to let you go to sleep, but your noises come out muffled.
This has to be some form of abuse or torture.
You groan and throw your head back, trying to shut it all out. Maybe, if you can manage that, then you can get some sleep.
Your plan doesn’t work. Every time you’re about to drift off, the same line of static cuts through you, jolting you awake. It’s useless.
Fuck, Keigo is such a hard ass.
You’ll never sneak out again after this. Why couldn’t he just beat your ass like he mentioned before? You’d gladly take that over this any day.
You guess that’s the point of all this.
You want to throw all logic out the window, but you’re starting to understand that if he went through all of this to try to teach you a lesson, then he really must be at wit’s end. Is all of this really because you just wouldn’t listen to him?
———
You’re finally at your breaking point when Keigo lifts the cloth from your eyes. He takes the headphones off, but you can still hear the low humming of the static in the back of your mind. Even with the headphones off, you still can’t get away from it.
Fully defeated, you look up at Keigo with snot running from your nose and tears dripping down your face.
“You learn your lesson yet, or do I have to put the headphones back on while I have breakfast without you?”
He takes the duct tape off of your mouth so you can respond.
“I’m sorry, Keigie! I won’t sneak out ever again. Please, please, please, no more! I don’t want anymore static!”
Keigo raises his hands in mock surrender before untying you from the kitchen chair. He pulls you into a strong hug, rubbing your back comfortingly.
“I hated doing that to you. I really did. Please, don’t sneak out again. It’s serious. I wouldn’t have any clue if you ended up in a dangerous situation. I love you, Baby Bird.”
Leaning into his chest, you wrap your arms around him.
“I love you too, Keigie.”
94 notes · View notes
ptsdangeldust · 2 months
Text
tw rape / abuse / suicidal ideation / self harm
can i just fucking say that the "poison" scene was just fucking flawless to me. as a survivor of rape and psychological abuse it was so fucking hard to watch and hit on every note i wanted it to. the suicidal ideation, the self destruction, the pain, the torment, the addiction, the hopelessness, everything.
[this got long LOL big analysis of ep4 basically]
also it's a little funny how easily i called it when the pilot came out that angel was gonna have ptsd and cope with it through hypersexuality . like this was obvious from the start to me and they do telegraph / foreshadow it from the first episode pretty well in my opinion. like ALMOST too much. but at the same time i'm kind of glad. like that's what i like about the show is that it *is* so raw and over the top when it talks about this kind of thing. that's why i like campy edgy uncomfortable shit bc where the fuck else am i gonna hear anyone specifically hit the perfect sweet spot of just exploitative-feeling enough to feel palpably uncomfortable in a way that just like. perfectly conveys this message. in my opinion, obviously.
it's like so crazy to me that i had this exact high expectation for the show and adjusted for edginess and got exactly what i wanted and then some. like. god. they hit every note in succession all at once and then tied it off with a beautiful, nuanced but genuinely well paced and well thought out resolution.
"loser, baby" was so fucking perfect as the counterpoint to "poison" in this episode. also charlie coming in and being purehearted but not knowing what she's doing and making it worse. but angel ultimately understanding that she meant to help and it's not her that's the problem obviously. and then husk is ultimately the one to give a shit about angel (with some encouragement, which like i honestly appreciate that he doesn't take angel's bullshit and isn't just the like Token Black Savior who has no character or agency of his own [of course i'm white so don't take me as the authority on this issue but i'm certainly aware of it]) and like not only try to stop him from self destructing but like relate his experience and make him admit he has a fucking problem. sooooo much of abuse is built on making the victim think they're at fault for what they're going through. the way val makes him look in the mirror and say "yes" outloud to himself over and over while literally holding his head and threatening him was such a good way of driving that home. and then we see angel have so much pride poked at so easily when he's called fake because he's SO aware he's putting on an act. he lets himself be exploited because he thinks it gives him a sense of control. can't be called fake if i'm an actor. can't prove i'm ever real. never have to BE real. never have to admit that anything is wrong and come to terms with it.
and so husk comes right the fuck out and says it. you're a loser. you're washed up. you're a has been. you're self destructive. you hurt everyone around you. ..... and you're not alone. THAT'S the important part. that's the real thing that gets you out of abuse. people. not being alone. like not just KNOWING that THEORETICALLY you're not alone but actually having people show up and help you and put in the work and relate to you and listen to you and let you listen to them. that's why abusers chronically work to isolate people. because it's so much easier to exploit someone who has absolutely no support system. who only answers to them. who has no one to turn to if shit goes sour.
ok also the fucking hypersexual self harm? i have NEVER seen that portrayed so accurately and so explicitly before. i feel like basically every single time i see it talked about at ALL in media it's either 1) portrayed as like sexy or ultimately good 2) strays totally the opposite direction and is talking more about cycle of abuse shit (which yes that's also important but not what i'm after) 3) really just hinted at / i have to like extrapolate it from vague hints or 4) exists in shitty media that is not ultimately trying to tell a story about escaping abuse it's just talking about a tragic waif and trying to make you feel sad. which is just another kind of exploitation really. so it was very refreshing to see it made very clear that angel was going around *trying* to get drugraped (which is NOOOOOT the same as consent. but i'm not going to get into that) because he was trying to hurt himself. he knew it wasn't good for him and he sought it out anyway. he could have wound up dead and he did not care. that's how low his self esteem is. that's how little he thinks of himself. that's how absolutely terminal his suicidal ideation is. i like used the word 'passive' at first but no i would not call that passive he is clearly actively suicidal hsuidguhds (ftr passive suicidal ideation is like. 'i wish i could go to sleep and not wake up.' but not actually acting on it. active is when you start purposely not looking both ways when you cross the street. that's basically what angel was doing)
anyway yeah. ep4 was kind of the peak for me i'm ngl HUIDGHIS obviously i'm very excited to see where things are going in general but especially more huskerdust........ i would like live if they didn't actually end up together but it feels clear to me that they genuinely care about each other and at least angel does seem to have... romantic-leaning feelings for him. would be cool if they had some scene where husk is like just cuz i care about you doesn't mean i'm going to be your magic saviour through love or whatever. bc i feel like it would be so easy for angel to immediately want and/or expect that. i did personally coming out of my abuse where i was absolutely desperate for real actual non-abusive love of any kind but i was NOT remotely healthy enough to truly accept it then even if it had actually been handed to me and i wound up in something that was..... better, yes, but ultimately still toxic and not completely ideal. not abusive, no, just not like. healthy. lol. but i do have good healthy happy love now so i'm glad lol <3 but like anyway this is a common thing with abuse survivors and it would *make sense* to see it but like i wouldn't put it past them to just go straight into "and then angel got better immediately and they got together and everyone lived happily ever after the end" HSDUIGSHUID but like idk man. we'll see LOL
also i did want to comment on like...... the fact that the scene was worked on by someone with a legit rape fetish who was like straight up into angel/val as a ship and thought it was like cool and fun or whatever. like. i really don't think the scene itself came off as glorifying rape or abuse. it's blatantly obvious that it's not good and the emphasis is placed entirely on angel's pain. and like it's. it's not porn. it's evocative. it's explicit. but the purpose of the scene is not "look at this hot sexy sex" it's "look at this horrifying abuse". like yes obviously there are gonna be people who get off on it but people can get off on anything if they try hard enough. porn is art explicitly meant for jacking off. not everything about sex is porn. i think if you interpret it as glorifying sex you're honestly out of your goddamn mind. the song ends with angel talking about how he wants to fucking die because of it. is that glorification to you?? really???
ultimately, *I* think it's good. i think, objectively, the team did an extremely good job. give them an award or something. i swear. where's the oscar. my boy angel needs his oscar LOL
... one last note, because this is tumblr: this is very triggering material. probably it should've had a better warning of some kind. but it is telegraphed/foreshadowed like i said and the show is rated 16+ on amazon (i feel like it should be 18+ imo but it's like. it's repeatedly listed as being for adults/"R rated" in promo material at least) and sex and violence are listed right there at the top of each episode where it shows the rating so like. idk man. that's as much warning as is usually given for this kind of thing ngl. i absolutely am not saying it's not triggering. but it is important to portray triggering things. it is important to talk about these things to give people in these situations someone to relate to and to give them the language to understand how to escape abuse, first of all, and like also art in general *should* be challenging. i think they genuinely said important, unique things and said them well. they did wayyyy better than i thought they would. for real. like esp coming from viv knowing her past like. clearly someone in the room actually knew what they were doing lmao (one of the writers for hazbin also worked on the episodes in helluva that covered similar abuse recovery material so. you know)
55 notes · View notes
mrsjavierp · 2 months
Text
Where You Belong?
Chapter 7 - Torture
Tumblr media
Javier Peña x latin!f!reader
Summary: Running away from life as you always knew to start a new position as Head Chief on a DEA Office, far away, on Colombia. There, you'll face violence, as you never thought you could. There, you'll meet Javier Peña, your stubborn agent...
Warnings (to the whole fic): +18!, angst, smut, cheating, last relationships, drug dealing - Narcos Universe (not so accurate), bad spanish, english is my second language, use of Y/N and Y/LN. No physical description of the reader, only your clothes (sometimes). The POVs are shifting between reader (first person and Narrator - 3rd person)
(If I forgot anything, tell me, pls!)
Word Count: 2,6k
A/N: I'd love to know about you're thinking about it so far! Your opinion is really important! Tks <3 Btw, I'm tagging @pedrostories! Babe, let's show'em why we're so much in love for that man!
Obs: Oops, I did a "past x present situation" again, so, anytime you see something written like this, is past. If not, it's just Javi's memory about the night he won't (and can't) forget... And neither can you, reader <3 Let's be honest, how would we forget a night like that?
***
Narrator's POV:
Javier went to see how Steve was doing, after Connie left.
The apartment was a mess, with empty bottles all over.
If ever Steve were sober, it was before his girls went back to Miami.
He was so depressed... Made Javier think about his family as well, but in a different way: if it was him and Lorraine, would he try to do some or anything?
Steve sniffed and cleared his throat, handing Javier a beer, bringing him back from his thoughts.
"Have you, uh... Had anything to eat in the last 24 hours?" - he asked.
"About Y/LN..." - Steve ignored Javier. - "Do you think she's gonna send me back? Did she say anything?"
"To be honest, I think if she was going to send you back, she'd have done it already. We know she doesn't put up any shit."
Steve sputted.
"Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Do you think I am out?"
"I don't know." - Javier answered.
"Well, I ain't ready to go home yet, Javi. I'll tell ya that." - Steve threw the top from his bottle away. - "Damn it! She's fucking..."
Javier got up, he needed to do some or anything.
"Take a shower. Sober up." - he suggested to the friend. - "I'll get back to you."
Steve sighted, sitting back down.
**
"Thanks for talking to Y/LN again, man." - Steve thanked, while Javier was driving to their new office. - "I mean that... You saved my ass."
"One more fuck-up, Murphy..."
"Oh, I know." - he responded.
"Is it gonna happen again?" - Javi asked, worried.
"I don't know. I really don't." - Murphy seemed lost in thoughts.
"Let's hope for the sake of our careers that is the first and the last one."
Shortly after they arrive, you show up by helicopter, wearing a black tight suit, heels and sunglasses. Javier was already shivering.
Making an effort to change his focus, he said to Steve:
"Get ready to get your balls snippet." - and they both smirked.
*
Steve and you sat down at your office, his expression was awful: sad, bitter, hangover.
“So Connie left… You’re upset, knocked a few back to numb the pain and then decided to take it out on some Wall Street pendejo”
“Yeah, something like that.”
“Isolated incident?”
“Yeah.”
“You still don’t trust me? That’s fine. But if I’m gonna have your back, I need to know that I can trust you. Otherwise, I have no problem sending you back to Connie in Miami… Am I making myself clear or do you need a drawing?”
“Loud and clear, Jefe.” - He sighed. 
“Dismissed, Murphy. Go to work.”
He got up and left your office.
He was just a ghost… A resemblance to what he was, when Connie was here. God, you felt sorry for him.
*
Hours later, you sat down at the bar, close to your office, after all those hours, alone.
You just wanted peace.
So much happened and you also got quite some happening.
Steve and his bullshit, Escobar on the run, Crosby up on your ass...
"A Dry Martini, por favor. Seco." (A Dry Martini, please. Extra dry.) - you order.
"¿Señorita, dry martini? ¿Seco? ¿Estás enferma?" (Miss, dry martini? Extra dry? Are you sick?)
"No, amigo... Soló necesito olvidar algunas cosas." (No, my friend… Just need to forget a few things.)
He knew your drink was a neat scotch, he never saw you drinking any other thing.
You hated how the gin burned while going down your throat. You could almost remember when Javier fucked your throat at the same time you used your vibrator because he wanted to see how you've done by yourself... He convinced you to pick it up at your place because he needed to ruin you, as you did to him...
"Díos mio... I don't wanna remember anymore, please, make it stop..." - you whispered like a secret prayer, closing your eyes.
*
About 2 hours later, taking off his tie, Javier walked into the same bar.
He sighed, so frustrated, so hurt, so pissed off.
Lorraine just had put the cherry on top: she wanted to leave Laredo to Dallas or Austin, because... He didn't even understand why. She asked for more money, his visit for a few days... The only good thing on that call was his baby boy, Lucas, who your so called wife insisted on calling Luke. Sometimes, he felt a little prejudice from her against his latin origin.
And she demanded again! Javier was trying to delay it, but she was coming on strong at him.
The worst part is… He didn’t care about Lorraine. Not that he ever did in the first place, but… 
In reality, he was just sad... 
Sad that he spent an intimate long night fucking you and... Nothing.
You just disappeared. Left him hanging.
Javier didn't even get to listen to you masturbating anymore.
He asked for a scotch, neat.
Just like he purred to you that night…
Sometime that night, you sat down on the armchair by his bedroom window, lit up your cigar, while he served you a glass of whiskey. You wore nothing but your red panties...
Javier kneeled down, again, for you.
There you were, smelling like your cigars, whiskey, sex... And Javier.
His hands worshiped your figure, opening you for him, again.
"Javier, I'm a little occupied..." - you said to him, almost purring.
"I don't care. I need to touch you. Go ahead with whatever you drink or smoke. It's sexy as fuck."
He loved that your scent was just like his. Make him feel like you belong to him, only him. 
“When I'm done with you, you're gonna smell just like me… Like my come, my perfume, my spit, my sweat… You ruined me, cariño. I'm just returning the favor.”
“Javi…”
“You know where you belong, don't you?” - his index and middle fingers entered you again. You moaned. - “You belong with me, cariño. I'm not letting you go.”
“Oh fuck…” - you moan. - “You also smell just like me, Javi…” - his eyes widened, surprised. - “You also smell just like my french perfume, my spit on your dick, my sweat on your skin… My come all over you…” 
You were so distracted you didn't even notice when he walked in and sat across from you.
When he spotted you, Javier went up to you.
"Martini, Y/N? Gotta say, did not see this coming."
"Bite me, Peña." - you responded through your teeth.
"I wish I could, cariño, but you won't let me get near you. I miss you. Don't tell me that you don't remember or you didn't like it." - his mouth came closer to your ear and murmured: - "You came so many times in my mouth that shirt I wore still smells like your cum, even after I washed 3 times already... Wanna know where it is?"
You sighted slowly, catching your breath, eyes closed.
"My bed, cariño. Right where you left your red panties, where you belong. Where you should be." - he continued to whisper in your ear.
"Peña..."
"No, not Peña. Call me Javi, babyboy, obedient soldier, anything but as if we were working… We both know that’s not under your obligations."
You looked at him, in pain.
"I-I-I can't. We gotta be a part, Peña."
He hit the bar with his fist.
"Bullshit! You may be an award winning actress, but you can't pretend any of that. I remember it all too well... I remember you telling me that was a fucking dream and you didn't wanna wake up! I remember you melting under my touch..."
You laughed.
"Peña, I quit smoking and drinking whiskey because of you."
"Why?"
"Because it tastes just like you." - aside from the scotch, he smoked cigarettes, not cigars. Your eyes are almost in tears.
He looked at you with those puppy brown eyes.
"Cariño... You don't have to..."
"Yes, Peña. I do... You don't get it, do you?"
"Actually, no, I don't. Enlighten me, then." - Javier responded, rude. He couldn't bear to be hurt one more time. He wanted to be yours and you to be his, only his.
"It was a mistake, Peña. You're overthinking what happened... I... We..." - you didn't know how to say or justify. You were lying and you were such a lousy liar... Javier could see right through you.
"Don't! Don't you dare to continue to say anything like that!" - it was his time to respond through his teeth. - "You don't get to do that! I won't accept these lies! You're not fooling me nor anyone… Days ago you were moaning and coming all over me... Now you want to take it back? News flash, you can't! You can’t change the past, you can’t change the fact that we fucked worse than rabbits, cariño. I told ya, I’m greedy as fuck." - his voice went from pissed to almost cooing at you.
You were feeling awful. Guilty. You shouldn't want Javier so badly, but you wanted.
"Peña, I'm your boss. We've got a job to do. I can't get involved with you, it was a mistake!"
Javier's heart was pounding. You couldn't do that to him.
You tried to get up, but your liquor betrayed you, almost throwing you on the ground, but Javi picked you up before you got hurt.
"Vamos, cariño. I'll take you home, vecina." - he said.
You only cuddled with him, holding up all you could.
*
Javier helped you get inside, paying attention to what you needed: You needed to eat, to take a shower and lay down, unfortunately, too drunk to do it alone.
First, Javier prepared a bath for you, a warm one.
"Peña, I just dumped you... You don't get to see me naked again." - you said to him, while you were sitting on the closed toilet and he took off your shoes.
He laughed. You were a cute drunk.
"Don't call me Peña. I already told you. Right now, I'm not calling you by 'jefe' or 'Y/LN' either. You're cariño, hermosa or even babygirl."
You began to take off your clothes, while he took off his jacket and folded his sleeves.
"I like cariño, Javi..." - you almost purred. - "I shouldn't. But I do..."
"Good. Cariño will be, Hermosa."
He helped you finish undressing and getting in the tub.
"Oh, it's gooood. Thank you, Javi..."
He remained outside it, just taking care of you, not letting you lay down too much or sleep.
When you finished, he covered you with a towel, leaving you alone for a few minutes to look for some medicine, as hangover prevention, and some food.
A little like him, your fridge only had whiskey, water and a leftover pizza.
You two were more alike than any of you wanted or expected.
He used the oven to heat it, at the same time you put a red and lacy nightgown.
"Oh, fuck, cariño... Had to be this one?" - he asked you, trying not to sound so horny.
"It was this one or none. Pick your poison, Javi."
He sighed. What a fucking brat you were, even drunk as a skunk.
"Sit, please. There you go, eat it. Where do you keep your painkillers?"
"My bedroom..."
"Finish your dinner, cariño. I'm going to give you some, we've got work to do tomorrow, you need to bring your A-game."
"Peña, I always do. Don't mess with me."
He snorted. Feisty one you are, as usual. He liked that about you.
You finished your slice and he took you into bed, made you take your medicine. He didn't lay down, he just sat next to you, observing.
"He never took care of me like that, you know?" - you revealed, almost sleeping.
"Who, cariño?"
"Ben..."
"Who's Ben anyway?" - Javier asked, pretending not to be curious, but you were too drunk to notice anything in his voice.
"My ex fiance... A cabrón... Malparido." - you cursed.
"Remind me, cariño, why?"
"You know... All the cheating, all the lying..." - you yawn. - "I'm tired, Javi..."
"Sleep, cariño. Buenas noches, hermosa... I'll bring breakfast tomorrow morning, before we go to the office."
But you slept before he even finished his sentence.
Javier left you safe and sound, at your apartment.
However, he never felt worse.
He wanted to be with you, more than sex. More than he ever wanted to be with any woman. 
The problem is...
He's also a cheating bastard. He also fucked half of Medellin and Bogota.
He doesn't deserve you and he knows it.
Javier doesn't care.
He's not going to give up on you: on the contrary, he's going to solve all that he can before you ever find out...
But how? How is he going to keep Lorraine away? How will he manage his boy's custody?
Too many questions, no answers.
“One problem at the time…” - Javier told himself, crossing the hall and entering his apartment.
He looked around: all in order, but you were missing. He wanted to do it right…
Javier laid on his sofa… But it smelled like both of you. He got up and sat at the table in the kitchen, Lorraine’s letters organized in a box. 
Pandora's box, as he joked sometimes to himself.
“Fuck…” - he cursed. - “How am I going to pull it off?”
Next morning, he knocked on the door, anxious.
The seconds before you opened it felt like hours. He was bringing you breakfast from Mrs. Hernandez's café: arepas with cheese and eggs, mantecada, marquesa and, of course, black colombian coffee.
You open, holding back a smile, wearing a black dress and boots.
"What are you doing here? Something happened?" - you sound surprised.
Javi smiled, coming in as you let.
"Yes, cariño, I told you I would bring breakfast... I don't get the surprise. Wait, you don't remember? You were that drunk?"
"Oh, fuck! I forgot... Sorry, by the way."- you said as Javi entered your home.
He pulled you into his embrace, after putting the food at the table, and held you close, smelling your hair. - "I miss you so much, cariño... Don't push me away, please." - he begged.
You took a deep breath, Javier's scent was so good, so masculine and strong... You miss him too, but how can you manage it all?
You look deep in those puppy eyes.
Fuck, you hate that effect on you.
"Can we talk about it later? I'm very thankful that you brought food and took care of me last night... But things are not that simple. I don't quite remember, I was really drunk. But I do remember that I said I dumped you."
He laughed, stroke your hair.
"Not exactly... But you did reveal a few things, including that you quit smoking and drinking whiskey because of me."
You turn your face away. You felt a stupid girl, alcohol in and truth out. Your own mind betrayed you.
"Oh, fuck. Peña, I... Really, let's eat. After work we can talk, okay?"
He agreed and you both set the table. It was all delicious, he brought everything you like.
"Was Ben at least thoughtful during your hangovers?" - he asked, casually, with a smirk on his lips.
"Peña, what the fuck? How dare you? That's none of your business!" - you screamed towards him.
How and what does Javier know about my ex? - you thought.
"Cariño, you're the one who brought him up last night. I was just curious..."
"Peña, you have no right! Leave my home! Right the fuck NOW!"
"Y/N, what the fuck?! What the hell happened to you from last night to this morning?"
"I got sober, my senses got back to the right place. And you know what? I was only delaying what I was going to say. We're not getting together again. That night was a huge mistake!"
"Your car is in the garage, by the way. Keys in the ignition. See you later, jefe." - he picked up his coffee that was on the travel mug and left your apartment, not looking back.
Next
29 notes · View notes
whumpshaped · 7 months
Text
the pet name generator inspired me. here's mocha
tw implied noncon, kidnapping, hybrid whumpee, death, rude interviewer, self-harm mention (didn't go through with it, just thoughts)
"So, Mocha... As I understand you haven't talked about this before? On tape, I mean. In a setting like this."
"Never."
"Well, I'm honoured that you've chosen to accept my invitation anyway. May I ask what made you change your mind?"
The recording goes quiet. There are no sounds apart from the gentle scratches and pops, then a louder creak as one of them likely shifts in their chair.
"No."
"Okay. So we should just jump right in. Can you talk a bit about... the unique features you possess? How have they affected your life? Are you the only one of your kind that you know of?"
"I am. That's why I was so interesting to that farmer. You don't see a guy with sheep ears every day, I guess. Nor hooves. All this stuff... it fucked up my life. Ruined it."
"How so?"
Pause. There's a sharp inhale, then a slow, measured exhale.
"I was isolated. Hidden by my family. Until one day I escaped, and immediately got kidnapped. I'd say that's a pretty fucked up life."
"If we could keep the cursing to a minimum, please."
"Don't fucking tell me how to–" Mocha cuts themself off, and there's another audible sigh. "I will keep the cursing to a minimum."
"Thank you. So tell me about this farmer."
"He had a lot of livestock. He didn't treat any of those animals well. I... accidentally trespassed on his land. I didn't mean to. It was dark, I didn't see the sign, there was no fence... I heard sheep, and I wanted to meet them. Humans were always weird about the whole thing... but sheep are friendly. Too friendly. I was too friendly back then as well."
"I imagine he wasn't very happy to see a stranger on his property."
"Oh, he was." One of the chairs creaks audibly, and now it's almost certain that it's Mocha who's squirming. "He was very happy. Not at first... but then he saw how I am, and..."
"You mean your sheep characteristics."
"Yes, I mean my fucking sheep characteristics– sorry. I cursed again."
"Keep going."
"He didn't act indifferent to it, which I think is what I would've wanted. I wanted someone, anyone to just ignore them. Those stupid ears, I wanted to take a pair of scissors and cut them off–"
"Stay on topic, please."
"He was delighted. He asked where I was from, why I was out there alone at night, wandering around. I told him the truth, because sheep are friendly. Sheep are dumb."
"And he took you in."
"He did. He took me in and didn't let me go until the day he died. Thankfully that day came sooner than expected."
"How has he treated you?"
Mocha doesn't answer right away. Whether it's because they're thinking, or because it's too painful, it's difficult to tell.
"He was kind, at first. I think. It was hard to tell, as someone who has never... really experienced that. I didn't know why he was so enthusiastic about my freakish hybrid body. He made it pretty obvious soon enough, though."
"He was some sort of fetishist, correct?"
"He was a sick and twisted man who got off on violating others. I couldn't care less what you call it. He told me sheep are dumb, sheep need someone to tell them what to do, where to go, how to behave. I believed him. He had lots of sheep, and I was half a sheep, I thought he knew best. He was a fucking–"
"Language."
"But he was! He was a gross fucking man!"
"Let's move on. How did his treatment of you escalate? How quickly? How severe did it get?"
"He... I don't even know. One day it was a slap, because sheep are dumb and sheep need guidance. The other it was just... normal. And then the cane. The rod. The cattle prod. I don't know the timeline, it... it blurs together. It got very bad."
"Did you try to stop him?"
"No. Sheep are dumb. Sheep follow."
"You internalised that message very well."
"Yes. Yes, I have."
"I've heard he branded you."
"Yes. And he had one of those tags in my ear as well. Just to really drive it home that I was a dumb animal."
"And you believed it."
"I did! I did, he was convincing, I didn't– didn't know any better!" There's a pause, and Mocha takes a deep breath. "Now I know I'm smart. I know I'm capable. I'm not a sheep, not fully, and even if I was, I'd be deserving of humane treatment."
"You have a mask on today. Why is that?"
"I don't like the scars."
"It doesn't hide the burn mark on–"
"No. It doesn't. I can't really cover that."
"Okay. Let's get back to the farmer, then. You said he held you there against your will until the day he died."
"I got lucky. He had a heart attack, and all I had to do was... stand there. I watched him collapse and eventually die. I didn't know what it was back then, but now I know it was his heart."
"How did it make you feel?"
"Surreal. It was surreal. It was... it wasn't happiness, it was relief. Peace. I don't think I've felt truly happy for a long time, but I know I felt tranquil."
"And how has life been treating you since the escape?"
"Same as always, I guess. I'm still isolated. I... I don't talk to many people."
"Is that why you finally changed your mind on telling your story?"
Mocha doesn't answer for a long time. When they do, their voice sounds just a little less strained.
"I guess so. And I think... I think it was a good idea."
~
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
picrew
general drabbles taglist: @ashh-ed @whumpsday @whump-queen @the-scrapegoat @hidden-dreamland @rosewriteswhump @dismemberment-on-a-tuesday-night
24 notes · View notes
Text
Tumblr media
[page transcription below]
Apparently Frank Iero Is Not Okay.
For the ultimate test of My Chemical Romance's seemingly inescapable ubiquity, stay tuned to MySpace pages and message boards everywhere. When XØ- the debut from MCR guitarist Frank Iero's hardcore-punk side project LeATHERMOUTH- reaches the masses, you'll surely start seeing a gazillion comments from teenage girls raving, "OMG! Frank is sooooo hot! I love LeATHERMOUTH!" Were this record the product of just about anyone not involved with MCR, you could safely wager that most of said fans would run away from XØ as fast as humanly possible with their fingers wedged in their ears.
LeATHERMOUTH, who officially consist only of Iero on vocals and Rob Hughes on guitar, specialize in a particularly punishing form of hardcore that combines sludgy doom metal and harsh grindcore, topped off by Iero's ferocious screams and often twisted, eye-brow raising lyrics. Speed and fury are the name of the game here, and thus none of the album's 10 tracks break the three-minute mark (the disc's total running time is just over 21 minutes). While LeATHERMOUTH certainly aren't reinventing the wheel, songs with names like "I Am Going To Kill The President Of The United States Of America" and "Your Friends Are Full Of Shit" are far from dull. XØ's sheer brutality and shock value alone make the record the complete anti-My Chem experience, a perfect soundtrack for driving around with a corpse stashed in your trunk. (EPITAPH, epitaph.com) Brendan Manley
In-Store Session WIth Vocalist Frank Iero
LeATHERMOUTH are your forum to vent. What's got you so angry?
Just everyday life, and things that affect us that people want to pretend doesn't exist: feelings of isolation and depression, and the way the world is going. There are other things too: "Catch Me If You Can" is based on the letters written by Jack the Ripper. It's basically about cutting up girls, which is always fun. [Laughs] A lot of the songs seem to be about killing girls.
What's the story behind "5th Period Massacre"?
Kids are killing each other in school, and people are very quick to condemn the entertainment industry, or the parents or the kids themselves, who must be "off." I'm not saying those aren't some of the reasons, but no one talks about the little fucking prick who calls the kid a "faggot" or beats him up every day, so he sees no way out other than going home and getting his father's gun.
How about "Sunsets Are For Muggings"?
It's about going to see my psychiatrist. Every appointment I had was at night, around sunset. It's about taking all the pills to make yourself better, yet never feeling normal, and knowing that everything you're saying is going in one ear and out the other. I've definitely had to deal with mental illness in my family; that's a very personal thing that I deal with on a daily basis. "Sunsets" is my way of saying that no one is looking out for you but yourself, and you have to consider that no one fucking cares.
Will teenage girls who are into My Chem be horrified?
That's the funny part. "Catch Me If You Can" for example, has some pretty harsh lyrics about women. The last half of the song says, "A gift from God doing the Devil's crimes/I'll set shit right one whore at a time." Watching a good handful of little girls singing that line with you is a little weird, and really fucking funny. The things that make me laugh are things that are horrendously awful, [like] people falling down or getting attacked by animals. If I can have girls singing back about cutting themselves up or setting themselves on fire, that's pretty much a good show.
Some people will say, "My Chem is huge. What's this guy's problem?"
There are a million things I can say are great about my life, and a million things that really fucking suck. I can't explain why I have a problem with depression or anxiety; I don't know, and nobody can tell me why, either. I just do what I can to stay sane on a daily basis, and [LeATHERMOUTH] are one of those things that help me, getting it all out on a record, and playing shows. The first tour we did was really refreshing, exhausting and cathartic, and I wasn't pissed off anymore. Now that I've been home for a while, all that hate has built up again, and I think I need to do a couple more shows. [BM]
Alternative Press, In-Store Session interview with Frank Iero on LeTHERMOUTH's album XØ
74 notes · View notes
pb-dot · 5 months
Text
WIP Wednesday: New WIP Introduction
Writing decisions are funny. I think I'm going to make a conscious choice at some point, but that's basically never how it works. After spending some time percolating on this or that decision, I find myself having decided with all but absolute certainty already. I do consider this a part of Writer Brain, in that it seems my subconscious has worked the problem at hand while I was doing other things, which is awfully kind of it.
Anyway, this is all to say that I have decided what this year's NaNoWriMo project is going to be, and that I today plan to tell you all about it. As much as I have figured out at time of writing, at least.
My project this year will be The Artist, although I am considering vague-ing down the tittle a little bit. Perhaps The Impossibility Artist, or The Painter and The Impossible, Madness; Art or something like that. Titles are hard, but I figure I'll let this decision sit on the backburner for a little while. With a little luck, my brain will come up with something amenable all by itself.
With every project I undertake, I try to keep one particular challenge in mind. I do this because I find it useful to further my craft and also perhaps build a teensy tiny little bit of confidence in my own abilities while I'm at it. This time, I'm going to write a protagonist, a 1st person POV protagonist at that, who's not wholesome. In fact, I plan for him to be a kinda fucked up guy, maybe even a really fucked up guy on balance. I do this because it feels right for a horror novel, and I want to see if I can do it, but also because my protagonists in The Clockwork Boy are honestly little cinnamon buns and while that is cute, it's not quite what I'm looking for here.
The challenge, I figure, will be indulging in moral grey cynicism but not becoming mired in it in it. I do want both my protagonist and nominal antagonist to come out of this changed for the better. I just hate horror that ends on a note of loss and nihilism and no lessons learned by nobody, because that's just real life most of the time, and that's not fun nor engaging for me. It'll be a narrow road to thread I suspect, but my convictions wouldn't be worth much if they're not tested in the spin cycle of adversity.
I've gone a while without speaking any on what the story is about, so here it is briefly. Our (as of yet unnamed) protagonist is an art critic obsessed with a controversial contemporary painter by the name of Tomasz Gildebrant. The reclusive Gildebrant has taken the art world by storm despite, or perhaps because, rumors that viewing his pictures drives weak-willed individuals into acts of extreme violence, destructive debauchery or both.
Our protagonist catches hints of Gildebrants inner circle being on the move, and immediately springs into action to try to secure contact with them. His goal? Nothing short of a face-to-face meeting of an artist who doesn't even allow pictures of his face. Needless to say, our hero has crossed some ethical and judicial lines by the time the invitation to join Gildebrant in his isolated alpine home.
Upon their first meeting, our protagonist notices Gildebrant seems almost impossibly gregarious for a recluse. The darkness inherent to his work is nowhere to be seen, neither in the man nor his impeccably, arftully minimalistic and shockingly modern home high up in the Carpathian alps. There are, however, little hints that something isn't as it should be, like how the doors to the guest room locks automatically half an hour before midnight, and just how many pairs of shoes crowd the entryway.
So, without spoiling too much, we're going to explore some avenues of paranoia, as well as learning some harsh truths both about our determined point-of-view character and his enigmatic host. Perhaps, if it all falls into place, it'll turn out sweet, and if it does not, I hope it at least becomes tragically beautiful.
Anyway, before I disappear entirely into the poetry corner today, I figured I'd talk some shop. This book is by all probability going to be longer than TCB. I originally envisioned The Artist as a triology, but figured I could also execute what I wanted in a single work if I showed some discipline. So, that is what I will try to do, although I will have to try a slightly different approach to outlining than my usual method to see if it all fits.
I probably won't talk all that much about this WIP on here before I'm done with the bones of the story and the characters. Hopefully that'll be before Oct 31st, but if I have to pants it come November 1st, i'll pants it and probably start ranting in a sufficiently unhinged way on here. I'll put down a tag list post as fast as I can come up with a working title that I can live with.
10 notes · View notes
unholyhymns · 6 months
Text
covid has made me so like... bitter. and i feel like i can't even talk about it half the time bc i feel like ppl think im getting all self righteous when i mention i never once stopped masking and am still actively doing so. but it's like no i don't feel self righteous, i feel isolated and fucking insane everywhere i go.
and like it was already something i did bc i didn't want to get myself sick or anyone else sick and i still caught it last year bc no one around me was willing to keep masking and it was a whole ordeal where i missed two midterms bc of it and i spent weeks just like seething.
but this past weekend we found out my grandfather has cancer (there are so many tests and biopsies being done right now) and can't do chemo bc he barely has a kidney left and he'll have to treat it with immunosuppressants probably so now the issue is even closer to home. i was already incredibly worried about getting him sick and now im incredibly worried he'll die from this.
my dad's cousin fought cancer for years. i didn't know her well but she had it longer than i ever knew her. there were countless fundraisers done for her and she died in the hospital from covid. can you even fucking imagine that??
ive heard several people this week alone mention catching it. none of them have worn masks in at least a year. and they talk about it so casually and it just. drives me insane. it's just like... no one fucking cares anymore. im trying to grapple with the decision to withdraw from the world or never see my grandfather not knowing how long he's even going to have left or risk bringing covid right to him and it's so????
i get masks are uncomfortable. they give me panic attacks. there are certain things i can't do when wearing them bc they'll trigger terrible panic attacks. i routinely have to leave buildings so i can take it off and breathe freely for a moment but im still wearing them bc that has never felt more important than someone else's life and it's just.
idk. im venting. i don't think anyone is going to really care. i definitely don't think anything is going to change. im mourning a tragedy that hasn't happened yet but feels inevitable because no one around me seems to care anymore
13 notes · View notes
Text
The Hills
youtube
TW: Mentions of drugs and alcohol. Language. Smut. Cheating. Vulgar/borderline degrading language.
SUMMARY: Your tumultuous relationship with Rafe continues in this most recent bout of lust and it’s beckoning for satiation. 
WORD COUNT: 1500
*Requested*
Anonymous asked:
omg can u do a smut w rafe based on the lyrics from the weeknd's song "the hills" 😩😩
*UM….YES!!!! I HOPE I CAN DO IT JUSTICE BECAUSE I FEEL LIKE THIS IS COMPLETELY HIM!!*
The Hills
The guilt that once washed over you when dialing his number had faded somewhere between the third and fourth week of this affair. The neglect from your significant other had allowed you to dissolve into your excitable extracurricular lover whose very brand went against everything you believed in. But much like your own responsibilities of monogamy, he pushed those lines to blur so greatly that the only thing you cared about was that rush of his next touch and his next kiss. 
Even if it would only ever be in distance and a lack of true emotion, you couldn’t help but feel expensive in his hands, priceless even, when he’d groan your name as he writhed over you. And it was those very moments that left you setting your engagement ring on the bathroom sink yet again, having feigned contentment in your lackluster relationship, sending your friends home after an afternoon gathering, and awaiting him to drive through your gated residential. 
Right on time at half past five, you would hear the knock on your door. And no sooner had you opened it than you found your body refamiliarized within his arms. You were lifted from gravity and taken around him as you were pulled to the direction of the couch, his touch just as hypnotizing as those blue eyes heavy under the effects of one of his vices. But with the smell of perfume faint on his collar, a brand you detested for its vulgar tones too musky for your own liking, your stomach twisted in thinking of anyone else knowing him as you had. 
“Rafe…” You set your hands to his chest as he released a scoff, disinterested in this pause and blowing it off as a faux attempt at playing hard to get. 
“Can I ask you something?”
“If you have to…” He spoke into your neck, kissing your soft skin he’d left an imprint on at every inch as your eyes fluttered closed in the momentary distraction of this warmth on your skin. 
“Am I the only one you’re…” He pulled back, a wicked smile brand across his face. 
“Are you the only one I’m fucking? Is that what you want to know?” You nodded, half hoping to hear of his isolation to only you, but already knew the answer due to the evidence of those eyes already blown out with lust and that damn perfume that would haunt you long after he was gone. Even more than the guilt and regret. 
“Do you really want me to answer that?” Your eyes faded to the side as he let out a sigh of frustration. 
There was never a time in any of your interactions where you would converse over anything aside from the basics or what would be displayed in a role play. But genuine emotion was never an option for you two. It was why he was able to continue this but it was also what pulled at your heart, knowing you would only have him by touch alone. And yet, what more could you expect when neither one of you were willing to forego your lives to be together. 
“I was just with someone else…” When he felt you shift, he would scoff over you, “Who the fuck are YOU to judge, I’m just living my life for the moment, here and you’re the one with a boyfriend, I have no obligations or responsiblites, and I don’t owe you shit…THIS is what this is. Sex. Fucking. Sweat and cum-that’s it. And if you thought it’s ever been anything else..” He shook his head as you fought the tears from forming in your eyes. 
You weren’t in love with him. You didn't know him in order to be. But you loved how he made you feel, even if for that hour or however long he’d remain. And it stung to know that anybody else had that too. But more than this, you hated how used you fell, and beyond THAT, how you were almost okay with it as long as it meant you had his focus, if even for the moment. 
“I just think maybe a conversation-”
“A conversation?!” He scoffed again, this time, pacing a small path back and forth from you as his fingers moved intensely from his temples and to his chest as he spoke with such passion. 
“What? You want to get to know me? You want to know my favorite color and my deepest fears?” He suddenly rushed you, your hair within his grasp to make you gasp and reinstate his dominance to you.
“This IS me. When I’m fucked up…THAT is the real me…You get that everytime you let me show up here and fuck you like you don’t have some brainless asshole giving you false promises while he’s out probably stuffing his secretary or assistant-shit, maybe even your next door enighbor.” His words were harsh, but expected. He was only ever sweet in those final moments prior to his release, when he was vulnerable and desperate on what you would allow him. But it didn't make it sting any less. 
“So you take that or you get nothing.” He explained as you weighed your options. 
Being without him meant being in your loveless relationship and remaining in that plastic bubble of perfection. But being with him meant exercising each of your kinks and quelling them by his touch alone. It was enough to feign contentment and happiness with a man you’d never found a flicker of flame let alone the wildfire Rafe built in you. And so convincing yourself this was reason enough, you brought him to your lips, crashing them in a messy swipe of passion as he pulled you from the couch and into a bend over it, not caring to unbutton your shirt or carry on any further sweetness. He had a point to make. This was about one thing only, and without a need for validation for this, he was undressed from the waist down, your skirt gathered at your waist, as he pulled himself inside of you. 
“Look at you…” He explained while forcing your focus to lift from the closed eyes and to the picture of you and your fiance hung over the fireplace before the couch. 
“You have this perfect little life. Polished and as fake as silicone, but perfect to find excitement in this…in me…” He took a moment to savor how you clenched around him with his words, verifying how it thrilled you to break those silent promises made with another man. 
“You get to relish in the feeling-of this rush..and I get to bask in knowing you let me…But I don’t need you…I can have this with anyone else…And you’re stupid if you think otherwise…” You groaned as he would force you back into a deeper bend, quickening his thrusts. A hand to your ass made you groan as you hid the tears as they fell down your cheeks. 
“All I’m good for is this. Anything else would only ruin you…You’re a high for me…But you put emotions into this shit and that high starts feeling…like…like fucking decaf or something…” He continued to grunt, your own moans coming from the sudden presence of his thumb rubbing against your clit. 
“You want emotion? Call your fucking fiance…You want to come? You say MY name…”
“Rafe!” He smirked behind you, something heard by his scoff, before you were taken faster, your body pulled to its limitations as he pounded into you. Your fingers clenched into the fabric of the couch before you as you were desperate for that release he’d edged you to twice in order to prolong his own. But once your initial shudders of that thrice ambition, he would allow your release before prompting his own. 
And just as he would every time before, he would dress once again, his release dripping down your legs as you were degraded by your own submission, your clothes returned flat, as you turned to face him. 
“Maybe we can start having conversations….” He appeased you as your face illuminated enough to show agreeability. 
“But it will never be more than this…And that’s FOR you…” His eyes were hollow as he crossed the space between you, taking hold of your jaw and teasing a kiss he wouldn’t quite commit to yet. 
“Besides, I much prefer you quiet, choking on my cock-which you will do to make this up to me…” You nodded, more eager than you should have been as you know you deserved better. But you basked in the excitement and arousal all of this brought to you, always torn when he would leave, but hopeful as you knew he would be back. 
Half past five. Fucked up. And yours for the time it would take to come. And it was what you would let continue… 
Taglist: @hopebaker @iovdrew @penny4yourthoughts @magnificantmermaid @pickingviolets @lovedetlost @trikigirl271 @maybankslover @slut4starkey @slvtherinseeker @obxiskewl @obxxrxfes @bluesongbird @slut-era @ailee-celeste @rafesbae
111 notes · View notes
Text
Having some feels about the pandemic-versary this time around. Especially since I'm currently sitting in an airport as one of only three people masked up.
(so when I say the pandemic changed me I don't just mean I made a lot of baked goods and listened to bardcore...)
In February of 2020 I had surgery and was in bed recovering for two weeks and change. I literally had a hard time getting around so the only places I went at the end of February were to two doctors' appointments. The first reported cases of COVID spread in NorCal had hit the news; people were already starting to curtail their social activities and getting a bit anxious. I didn't feel great about having to go out, but the only restrictions at that point were on people who had recently traveled out of the country, and I figured well, it's just the doctor's office, it won't be too crowded, and I have hand sanitizer. Yeah, something-something Alanis Morrissette song LOL. It took a few days for the symptoms to manifest; I finally got a chance to hang out with my friends the following Saturday, the first day of March, but had to ask them to drive me home early because I very suddenly started to feel unwell. That was a week and a half before the pandemic became an official emergency. By the time Spouse and I realized what this probably was, it already seemed too late to try and isolate from each other, so we were just like... welp. Here we go.
I cannot possibly impress on people who didn't have the alpha strain just how fucking terrifying and miserable that was even if you just got the 'mild' version. I'd had the flu before, like a properly miserable flu. This was even worse in terms of the magnitude of fatigue involved. Like I don't think I've ever been as acutely aware of the weight of my arms and legs like that. There was a point where my breathing got just labored enough that I had to contemplate what it might be like to end up in the hospital when they were only just starting to set up for the pandemic. Fortunately I did not have to go. But I did literally spend another four weeks bedridden after having already been bedridden for half of February. Spouse also was a bedridden blob for the rest of the month. Friends kept tabs on us remotely and we ate a lot of delivery. God fucking bless the food delivery people who worked their asses off during the pandemic.
I was able to walk around again after a month but doing anything winded me pretty badly for about a year afterwards. Even as a longtime spoonie, the level of "oh fuck, I really can't do this" was honestly jarring. Spouse fortunately did not have the same long-COVID problems I did.
Of course, I get mostly-over the long COVID just in time to get the call that Spouse's parents' living situation has become fundamentally unsustainable for them and we needed to go out there to help them shut down the farm and move into town. Shortly after finishing that project and coming back home, we got called out again because FIL's cancer had become untreatable. After hospice, and then the funeral, Spouse decided he'd had enough with his job and the direction the industry was going and quit.
Let me tell you, I am so glad I had the option for therapy sessions over Zoom during that time and boy howdy I needed those weekly appointments.
The last couple of years have been a lot, I guess is what I'm saying. I sure as shit feel different and people around me have started noticing that I am different. I don't necessarily consider it a shift for the better, given... y'know, some of the stuff. But yeah, definitely one of those "before vs. after" kind of defining moments of my life.
2 notes · View notes
saturnsbear · 26 days
Note
If you can, please don't let your family or anyone who'd tell them where you're going or where you live cos they will come and drag you back or make your life hell
I did that a few times believing they should know despite the trauma and abuse and all I did was re enter a world of pain each time. I guess I was trying to shock them into being my family and acting like it, to show them what they drove me to in leaving them. They just turned up to haul me home or eventually force me into returning by causing family crisees i had to deal with because my leaving made them look bad. I eventually left with my now gf to move several states away and I had to promise her not to tell them where we are or she'd leave me. I have no identifiable social media I am isolated from all of my family I have to start over but I have peace. It's terrifying but I have to try
I don't plan to!!! I fucked up horrifically the last time, trying to stay in contact with the most dangerous person for the sake of my siblings' comfort - I know better than to give into that same drive now :') it did not even truly help our siblings.. nor the animals left there/here, still so much harm was done. Such people really do not change, not without their wanting to, & certainly not under the pushing of their victims... as much as I wish it could be so. Knowing that I am leaving behind more w/ even less ability to defend themselves, to take "my place", it's a heavier burden than I could ever bear without compartmentalizing it away, giving the reins to another part of me who's more capable of prioritizing
It's so, so terrifying to go off into the world, even with a support system, with no such "home to go back to" as is considered the norm.. I know how it feels, & I hope with all my heart that things go as easy for you as they possibly can. I hope you can find a stronger support system of kind & caring people, & make those bonds that can be even stronger than blood-family, that's the 1 saving grace that's allowed us to survive this, let alone have hope of leaving. It's infinitely easier to go on despite the fear when you have people who care about you
We're holding you in our heart of hearts, anon, please don't ever give up & thank you so much for sending this in!! ;w; 💗💪
3 notes · View notes
Text
Tumblr media
Looking for Her (Movie) [5 good things out of 2022]
It might not objectively be the best film I watched this year, but I will take this scrappy little movie with me out of 2022 and I will treasure it as part of my personal lesbian canon. It now sits firmly on the shelf between those other few sanctified lesbian pieces of media I find myself taking down, dusting off and revisiting at least once a year. It's comfort food for the Sapphic soul.
It's a Hallmark type of romance movie. Taylor a repressed perfectionist with benign childhood trauma is asked to bring her girlfriend with her home for Christmas. Home consisting of a set of parents who up until that point seems to have been casually homophobic and dismissive of her homosexuality, to the point that she doesn't have much contact with them at all when the movie starts. Only issue, in the way these things go, is that the girlfriend who once was in the picture no longer is. And from here I feel like you already have a bit of an idea what direction the movie takes. It's not a craigslist one, but she does place an ad for an actress to spend the week pretending to be her girlfriend so she can save face in front of her parents and passive aggressively show them her happy life. Enter Olive who is an easy-going and exuberant extrovert who has no issue charming the pants off any parents, or Taylor either for that matter. Yeah. I'm not really spoiling, you know how these things go. You want to watch this because you know how these things go. It's live action fanfic minus that one super weird kink involving oranges and that very specific trauma point the author seems incapable of not venting at the most inopportune moment.
It's just fucking soft. It just made me fucking soft. And I loved it for that. Life is cold and hard and I'm stuck in the middle of a winter that can't seem to decide if it loves snow or rain more, so it spends every other day trying either thing on like a fickle and indecisive teenager who can't decide what to wear for school. It's testing my patience, so to get something like this, fluff, insulation to go around my cold little heart - it is much appreciated.
And on a more intellectual level beyond "it made me smile - it must be good", it sort of drives home the point of community based versus mainstream. Like don't get me wrong, I am really happy that lesbian and gay characters start to appear in big mainstream productions. I mean, what the hell, even Andor had lesbians. That's not, I mean from where I grew up, that mindset, it is almost so far-fetched that it's pretty much incomprehensible. But we are included in narratives that are not only meant for us. However, you know, often instantly, that what is included comes at a cost. The inclusion is very much made to make a straight audience feel good about themselves and is not there for a gay one to relate to and see themselves in. It might be a facsimile, but you can tell it's not butter. The angle is too sharp, the dialect a little off. It's so close you kind of want to pretend you can't tell, but deep down you know, you can see the cracks. You see the way it's a twisted copy of you, one that is used as an entertainment hook that would have made PT Barnum proud. And to erase the hurt of that, to make you not feel like you're losing the plot, you need things like this movie. You need things that are told in your language and for you. If some straight person likes it too then that's icing on this specific piece of lesbian cake, but those other people not within the community aren't the main audience, you are. You need to experience that role reversal every now and then. It's a little piece of string to tie the pieces of your self-worth together and make you feel less isolated and more connected with the other people the movie was made for. You need that in a world that's usually aggressively heterosexual. So I'll gladly gather this movie up and keep it safely on that shelf of mine so I can get at it whenever I need to feel like I'm not the only gay in the village and that being attracted to other women as a woman is not a sideshow act, it's just rare.
49 notes · View notes
punchholesinthesky · 5 months
Text
the marvels:
look, i really enjoyed it.
it was a lot of fun!
and i am probably biased cause i am a fan, so i am for whom this movie was made.
but
i do think it feels a bit rushed.
mainly cause it's trying to do a lot of things at the same time.
captain marvel ends with her setting out on her own to be a hero, wanting to defeat her captors, help the kree.
...
and then we jump and it's been a long time.
we should've gotten something, just of her being a hero on her own.
going on adventures
so we can come back here and do this whole thing
because we have a villain who's trying to get revenge on her and fix her planet, which we didn't know was broken
we didnt know what had become of her
why her and monica weren't talking
it's the same thing with black widow or cap
black widow got one movie, and everything else was off-screen, when she should've gotten several.
captain america shouldve gotten something between tws and civil war
iron man got several movies of learning to be a hero
if you want to renew the cast, you need to do the same
give them time to breathe.
not just leave it to random moments in other people's adventures
it seems ooc that carol would never come back to see her family, after fighting so hard to regain it
i also have issues with the way the mcu just decided stark enterprised wasnt a thing anymore, now it was damage control and SABER
where did they come from? who cares
they spent the first ten years carefully crafting a universe and then just started throwing random shit at the wall.
some of it is really good but a lot of it doesnt connect anymore
it only works in isolation
carol fucking shit up cause shes angry, then running home when she sees the resulting chaos, and been comforted by her family, and then running back to fix it, that sounds a lot better.
but so often sequels hate to see some decent family relationships, the heroes can never be good parents,things are shit till we almost die and then we fix it before we die
it's more of 'we want to do x, but we don't want to do the work of thinking or showing, why would x happen, how do we drive our characters there' instead it's just 'x is happening, don't ask why'
like, carol is a hot head. if you read the comics you know this. and she has done a lot of dumb,impulsive things.
so her running off and making things worse isn't all that strange really.
but it was obvious from the beginning that she should be the one to fix it, and it makes carol look bad that she doesn't realise that.
that she can fix it.
not even previous attempts to try to fix it.
they wouldn't want her to, but her fucking up can be a good learning moment.
i did something stupid and violent, so now I try not to jump to violence
there was jsut a lot more to do, and i feel like marvel was just cheapening out rather than try to do something more with carol.
cause the other two are great, but it shouldve been more about carol's journey i guess???
they made a point of showing her being a hero in the fucking 90s of saying she's been at this a while, but then we don't get to see any of it, and she doesn't act like someone who does in fact have a lot of experience.
it is a lot of fun, and i will see it again, but yeah i do feel they went for something easy, and there's nothing wrong with that, but it should've come after we get something more substantial
2 notes · View notes
Text
Ever get your period a day or two before a trip and wish you could just shove the vacuum cleaner up there and get it all out in one go and not have to deal with that nonsense away from home and your own washing machine and so forth?
Look, I have to say I am not unappreciative for my good fortune in assorted ways but 2023 needs to pull its fucking socks up. First we spent the first week of the new year with COVID-19 cutting a swath through the household. My dad tested positive on New Year’s Day, his actual birthday. Long-time tumblies will be aware that my dad is a man of multifarious shortcomings but I really don’t think he altogether deserved that. So we’ve spent the week in semi-isolation with the weird feature that as the only adult who didn’t seem to get it, it’s like I’ve been quarantined in my room. (Tested negative daily the entire time, a rare feat for my generally very basic immune system.) There is nowhere to sit except the bed so I’ve basically been bedridden, while ACTUALLY PERFECTLY HEALTHY but endeavouring to avoid my closest relatives’ plague, and I’ve managed to fuck up the traitor muscle on the left side of my shoulder/neck/back axis due to inactivity/odd positions. The best thing that’s happened the entire fucking week is Little Nephew and I went out with masks on to buy Red Niece a new raincoat (Green Niece fits and loves his old raincoat but there’s only one of it) and had ice-cream/a milkshake before we went home, that was the fucking highlight. (Green Niece’s raincoat has a pattern of sharks. Red Niece’s raincoat has a pattern of butterflies and that is exactly what they are like as people.)
(It’s so interesting yet also sad to consider how different Little Nephew’s stillborn twin Harrison would have been from him, had he lived. I sometimes imagine two copies of Little Nephew scampering around here, but Harrison being as different from him as Red is from Green. I wish I could have known him and seen his individual ways. However, I also think “Christ Almighty, two sets of them would break us,” so it’s a bit of a thing all in all and I don’t share that thought with him or my sister obviously.)
My Red Niece comes to see me every day to demand an extremely specific My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic picture be printed off to be stuck to cardboard and cut out for her to play with rather than my sister having to source and purchase MULTIPLE discontinued toys from an earlier generation, and quite frankly even the current generation is not easy to find in New Zealand stores! We have been carefully preparing her psychologically for the fact that there is no printer at the beach house we’re going to for five days next week and she will have to make do with the ponies she’s got. I probably need to put in more time on this but it makes me a bit sad that other than describing the pictures she wants, she doesn’t really discuss FiM with me and as you know, I’ve got thoughts. And a purple wig I’ve worn to cosplay Human Rarity. I wonder where that is, or if I got rid of it in a fit of “The world has changed and this is never going to be my life again”? Because it was a cute wig and we’d make a swell Rarity and Sweetie Bell.
I’m sorry, you know I love Rarity (sobbing) so much
Also, am experimenting on myself and discovered that, per the neurologist’s suggestion, alcohol does reduce my leg tremor problem! Of course it also renders me unfit to drive and possibly to work, but that’s interesting to know, isn’t it!
And the weather’s been verily shit, so rainy, and forecast for rain every bloody day but one in the location we’re going to. There’s always hope for it to be nicer than forecast, I’ve certainly experienced that at times, but still, 2023, get your fucking act together! This is not good enough! You are going to be the Year of the Rabbit soon! Is this good enough for Sailor Moon? No! It is not!
And Little Nephew is having some manner of pre-pubescent hormonal surge that is apparently pretty common in eight-year-old lads and is on an emotional roller coaster which at times renders him dia-bleeding-bolical, my God, the fucking DRAMA
And I’ve just started my period and we’re going away the day after tomorrow
And I would just very much like 2023 to get its fucking shit together because it’s not easy for anyone but WE ARE BLOODY WELL TRYING
12 notes · View notes
neriumdelusion · 2 years
Text
Okay the idea that Carlos and Kevin AREN’T going to have intensely complex feelings on each other is just ridiculous.
These two spent ten years together during some of the most vulnerable times in both their lives. Carlos had spent 2 years in a new town, only really just together with a guy who scares him by being so fucking okay with the weird shit that happens (canon from it devours). He just realised he can’t get back into night vale, his place of residence for two years, he’s deemed not a true citizen. He’s had his entire sense of belonging thrown up in the air which is said to be a problem for him anyways. He struggles with belonging and a sense of community, having it all thrown in the air because some fucking doors decided he wasn’t enough of a Night Vale citizen must of be awful. Sure he had the scientific aspect of the otherworld but he was also separated from his boyfriend and the town he was at least trying to grow familiar with, even if it still scares him with being so fucked up and everyone being okay with it.
And then a Kevin. Looks at you. Are you fucking kidding me. He’s been violently reconditioned and brainwashed and working at strex for years, he says he “rarely feels anything at all” he probably on strex drugs and these probably have nasty withdrawal. He’s been thrown through dimensions for saying what he thought was right, what he thought was helpful. The thing is he genuinely doesn’t understand why anyone would be mad at what he said. Strex “fixed” him and he just repeats the same idea to everyone else. It was vile what he said but he genuinely could not see the issue, he didn’t understand. He’s completely separated from his home, his community. He’s a town voice just as much as Cecil, being completely shut out from your community must be absolutely devastating. He’s also separated from strex (which is dissolved by this point) which is good obviously, but everything he did, all he worked for, no matter how gross or murderous, is useless now. Everything he went through to work his way up the ranks and keep himself alive was all for nothing now. (This same idea applies to Lauren and I am equally upset about her situation.)
And then you put these two guys with a lot going on together, for TEN YEARS. with no one else besides the masked army? They only had each other. Sure Carlos met Cecil a few times in the otherworld but that’s nothing compared to even a few months with only one person in a vast otherworld neither of fully (or at all) understands, just fucking hoping. They survived together and they LIVED together for TEN YEARS. And then Carlos left with a fucking letter. Obviously Carlos can leave if he wants he’s well within his rights, but the way he did it was brutal. Kevin probably thinking Carlos’ “changes” were with Cecil, maybe getting a little excited. And then you realise he’s left the letter and you’re like hnnnnnnnn and you cave and read it. Only to realise it was for you the whole time, what he said was about you. He wasn’t as happy with you as you thought. He’s left you. Someone you held onto for some of the most confusing years of your life when you just crawled out of corporate hell has fucked off leaving you with a letter? DEVASTATING. Not to mention how much time Kevin would have had to think over everything that happened, what he could’ve done better why Carlos left can you imagine the overthinking you could do in an hour never mind the years he was without anyone else in the desert otherworld. Left pretty much isolated until Lauren turns up (who’s also been having one hell of a time starving and alone in the otherworld the whole time, not even a science guy to keep her company) and fuck knows how long was between that. Any more than a month would drive me personally insane I’m gonna say it was probably at least 15 years. CAN YOU IMAGINE? The sheer fucking loneliness and isolation the desperation the despair. Takes a bow thank you I think about this a lot.
31 notes · View notes
dats-poetry · 7 months
Text
A total venting madness (Explicit)
Was just writing something.
Well, I trashed that stuff again.
To be honest I'm surprised.
I haven't trashed most of my work.
Or really just left it unfinished.
Idk it wasn't really that good.
Or if it was I didn't see a point.
Feels like the same words.
I'm just repeating over and over.
No one wants to hear another poem.
About how I've been feeling lately.
This stuff isn't even gonna pop.
And it's true I never expected it to.
And it's true it was just an outlet.
But I feel like it's still not enough.
That if I get nothing, I should quit.
I don't think this will be good.
Let me just be honest right here.
That I had so many dreams.
And lately I just trashed them.
Cause I'm not the superhero.
And it hurts when in your own story.
You end up feeling like a side character.
I was supposed to be the protagonist.
Well what stuff am I protagonizing?
A story of despair and true depression?
A story of lost love and no friendship?
A story where I always want to end it?
Look yeah I had many dreams.
I told myself I'd learn to draw.
I'd do amazing digital paintings.
Don't even talk about writing.
Cause I dreamed of novels.
But I could barely write poems.
I know she would say it's not.
And that my poems are amazing.
And whatever it is I appreciate it.
But my mind can't really be changed.
And maybe that is a lie I told me.
That's something I'm willing to accept.
It's pretty dark and dull when.
Whenever you have a dream pop up.
You just unconsciously laugh at yourself.
Maybe I'm just repeating trauma.
From those kids back at elementary.
I think that am a loser? Am I?
Please don't just brush me with hands.
Don't just tell me not to say that.
Or that no one is really a loser in life.
Cause clear as day it seems it's true.
That some people are truly losing.
And maybe the biggest loss is inside.
Yet you can't deny how she really feels.
Cause she tried to heal and couldn't.
Cause she tried everything she could.
And it's true I tried everything I could.
I gave it all my fucking will to live.
And my brain still just said "ain't enough".
I swear I could move a mountain.
I could make the greatest feat.
But that doesn't really matter.
If I'm always thinking I'm lost.
I feel like this is so wrong, wrong.
I don't like to be vulnerable.
But I want to get this out of me.
I've never felt a romantic touch.
I've never known what kissing is like.
I've never felt like I really mattered.
And this shit fucking hurts inside.
I can't pretend that it's all alright.
I did that shit and almost cut.
From all the pressure inside my lungs.
There were some nights I spent.
Wondering if I was a kind of monster.
That anybody just repels like this.
I wanted to be accepted so hard.
But I think one of the biggest problems.
Was the fact that I hate being different.
But I also hate being normal.
I can't stand being with people.
But I can't stand being alone.
In reality I do like company.
I do like to laugh with friends.
And I'd wish we could talk.
Just one on one like deep friends.
But what can I say now that.
I don't have any friends left.
The truth is that I isolated myself.
In the room that I grew big in.
Was the room I killed myself in.
When I was driving back home today.
For a moment I thought what it'd be like.
If I slowly increased the speed in the car.
And just crashed into a building like that.
Then I came back to my senses again.
Drove the rest of the way back home.
Knowing that I would regret myself.
But for a moment I felt a rush.
A total rush of excitement in knowing.
I could totally be free of my pain.
If I just kept my feet's pressure on it.
3 notes · View notes