bruisednotes

[bruisednotes]

*⭒🢖 𝑾𝑯𝑨𝑻 𝑭𝑶𝑹𝑴 𝑶𝑭 𝑳𝑶𝑽𝑬 𝑫𝑶 𝒀𝑶𝑼 𝑬𝑴𝑩𝑶𝑫𝒀.ᐣ 🢔⭒*

tagged by: @outfix3d & @cr0wbarred tagging: @outfix3d ( jordi ), @pseudolife ( wyatt & kick ), @deadwar ( simon ), @roseypeached ( mace & clark ), @phantasiiae ( genesis & dion )

⛧ 𝑳𝑶𝑽𝑬 𝑨𝑺 𝑽𝑰𝑶𝑳𝑬𝑵𝑪𝑬. [ love as bloodshed, crimson as a knife slipped between your ribs ] when ocean vuong said "to arrive at love, then, is to arrive through obliteration" and when franz kafka said "you are the knife i turn inside myself; that is love" and when ada limon said "how do you love? like a fist. like a knife" and when richard siken said "sorry about the blood in your mouth. i wish it was mine".

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GAZ & PRICE IN “CLEAN HOUSE” | CALL OF DUTY MODERN WARFARE (2019)

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THE LAUGH THAT LEAVES HIM now has more level than edge to it now, at least, genuine amusement, rather than a nervous sound that gets dragged from him in a split second of emotional outburst with no thought ⸺ or perhaps with so much thought that his perpetually racing brain couldn't properly parse them all; his eyes, typically wide with both anxiety and the need to take in all that they can, soften and warm, her easy tone and laughing undercurrent soothing him like a balm to a wound. for once, dennis feels like someone is laughing with him, for him, instead of at him.

though he knows he's far from being a disappointment, dennis can't help but feel like he's at least two steps behind everyone else. he's a sweating, nervous wreck and a magnet for accident and misfortune. he doesn't go looking for trouble, but somehow trouble always seems to trip him up like a pebble under a wagon wheel. or a rock in the lawn mower. today is no different, and he could almost kick himself for this being the moment he sees joelle again, freshly post-mini disaster, flustered from emergency room chaos, his own short comings, and seeing her again in equal measure.

but instead of dwelling on that, like his mind wants to, he glances around him, then back to her, double and triple checking his short pit stop won't be an inconvenience, and then back to her.    “    well ... if we're lucky enough to not get hit with a crisis, sometime around seven-ish.     ”   

She’d  been  trapped  here  for  hours,  in  and  out  of  a  daze  amidst  the  disorder.  Relegated  to  the  hallway  and  confined  to  a  wheelchair,  tubes  running  up  her  arm  and  connecting  her  to  the  IV  pole  positioned  next  to  the  chair.  The  chaos  of  the  emergency  room  seemed  to  frighten  her  at  times,  despite  the  fact  that  she  couldn’t  count  the  amount  of  times  she’d  been  in  this  exact  position  on  both  hands.  Her  therapist  had  said  that  hospital  anxiety  was  common,  but  Joelle  sensed  that  the  source  of  her  particular  fears  ran  a  little  bit  ᴰᴱᴱᴾᴱᴿ  than  that.  If  she  closed  her  eyes  for  long  enough,  she  could  hear  Love’s  voice  …  warning  her  of  the  dangers  of  spaces  like  this,  the  dangers  of  vaccinations,  modern  medicine,  evil  men  in  white  coats  pumping  her  veins  full  of  poison.  It  was  all  the  shit  she  didn’t  buy  into  anymore,  but  that  voice  would  always  linger.  

But  on  days  like  today,  it  seemed  the  insanity  would  soothe  her  a  bit;  her  habit  of  people  watching  kicked  in,  taking  note  of  her  surroundings  as  if  her  senses  were  ᴰᴵᴬᴸᴱᴰ  up  to  eleven.  Rather  than  that  overloading  her,  it  held  her  attention  captive,  seeing  familiar  faces  trotting  around  amidst  the  strangers  she'd  never  see  again.  Dennis  Whitaker  was  one  of  those  familiar  faces  —  a  friendly  one,  at  that.  She  remembered  the  first  time  she’d  spotted  him  here  alongside  the  fresh  batch  of  students  whose  names  she  would  all  eventually  learn  as  time  passed  on.  The  conversation  started  out  as  it  always  did,  with  him  asking  her  how  she  was  feeling,  checking  in,  all  the  things  he  was  supposed  to  do.  When  their  conversation  began  to  extend  beyond  that,  she  knew  it  meant  that  there  was  a  slight,  albeit  temporary,  lull  in  his  work  duties.  ( 𝖳𝖧𝖤  𝖬���𝖬𝖤𝖭𝖳𝖲  𝖶𝖧𝖤𝖭  𝖳𝖧𝖤𝖸  𝖦𝖮𝖳  𝖳𝖮  𝖠𝖢𝖳𝖴𝖠𝖫𝖫𝖸  𝖳𝖠𝖫𝖪  𝖶𝖤𝖱𝖤  𝖲𝖮𝖬𝖤  𝖮𝖥  𝖧𝖤𝖱  𝖥𝖠𝖵𝖮𝖱𝖨𝖳𝖤𝖲. )  

She  could  tell  that  he  was  nervous  —  hell,  anyone  with  eyes  could  do  that,  the  way  his  ears  glowed  cherry  red  when  she  spoke,  the  nervous  tics  and  twitches  as  he  tried  to  smooth  out  his  scrubs  and  make  himself  look  decent.  It  was  almost  endearing.

“You  do  realize  that’s  not  really  better,  right?”  Joelle  teased.  “When  are  you  supposed  to  get  out  of  here  anyways?”

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HE'D KNOWN IT WOULD BE RISKY, fully aware that poking the beast that laid dormant but never fully asleep under danny's skin came with consequence. but the sick truth of it ? donomie wants it, craves it sometimes. it's the specific brand of cocaine that laces their every interaction, the violence, the pain, evidenced in scar after scar and bruise after bruise, healed only to be born again in an ever-recurring cycle that they somehow call a fucked up version of friendship. friends with benefits that no sane person would ever want.

but they do. donomie does.

so now, even with the barely healed wound now screaming and throbbing with pain, the rest of domi feels alive and thrumming with satisfaction, pulse beating under the rapidly bruising skin in a painful echo of his racing heart. his lips, parted with the wind that's been knocked swiftly from his lungs, curve into a grin, what little air remains puffing out in a thin, wispy mimicry of a laugh. when he grips danny's shirt for balance, he tips his head, just enough to see the taller man's face, pupils dilated just so and sparkling with nothing but pleased amusement.    “    y'know, if you wanted this to be ... an exclusive thing, it should probably go both ways. no one likes a double standard.     ”   

IN A LIKENESS SIMILAR TO HISTORIANS explaining away homoromantic relations to the modern equivalent of roommates? the now vast amount of medical personnel that had come to know — and rightfully either love or hate — the duo had come to call Donomie Cole and Danny Johnson's relationship to something similar: FRIENDS WITH BENEFITS. except that said benefits were far from sexual ( at least, on Danny's part ) and more in line with [consensual] domestic abuse. and, born of such proximity, was an intimate familiarity with seeing Domi's bare skin —- .

as gentle a gesture as gloved fingertips ghosting over exposed skin was rarer than a BLOOD MOON between the two. dark eyes, brown eclipsed by black, honed in upon the unfamiliar mark marring the other's flesh. a scar that was simply too sloppy to have been his own handiwork. a wound that Danny, even incapacitated, would have remembered leaving ( having always been generous enough to give Domi something to REMEMBER him by ).

❝ a self-admitted cheater? ❞ despite the crooked smile? something dark churned within dark pools. free hand rooting itself upon the other's shoulder in a faux display of amicability. a pat to his shoulder - man to man. ❝ now, how am I supposed to take your word for anything, Donomie? ❞ head canting. good-natured humor lacing patronizing words. all boyish charm until the hand that teased turned to violence - winding back in the scant space between them to land a rapid-fire punch dead center to the still healing scar. a brutal accuracy soon to paint his skin black and blue with a simple, yet poignant message: you're mine. curling over the man to whisper against the shell of a pierced ear. ❝ but, that's okay when I'm your favorite, isn't it? ❞

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anarchy got me into wd and is now ruining my life with not husbands send help send the swat team she can’t get away with this

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Unlocking a traumatizing memory that’s haunting you like 

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LA CASA DE LAS FLORES - S01E04: PETUNIA

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*avoids sadness and pain with self-destructive behavior* :~)

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*sends you nudes when I know damn well you in a public place or family gathering*

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me vs me vs me vs me vs me

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having blood on the face will make anyone hot

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i will get to things i owe soon i promiseeeee. i have been having silly time with the bros

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Neon Haze, Shinjuku 新宿

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Watch_Dogs 2: Shit Jordi Says Jordi Chin is by far one of the best characters in the Watch_Dogs series. Here’s a sentence meme of shit he says. Feel free to change nouns, pronouns, etc.           Other games: Watch_Dogs, Watch_Dogs: Legion

“Ah, you’re not the pizza guy.”

“Ow, who shoots a guy in the ass?”

“You shot me in my wallet, and put a hole in my brand new [designer name]’s.”

“I don’t like to usually make assumptions in my line of work but ehh…”

“Oh this? No, no, no, no, no, no, no. This over here… is [name].”

“Pick it up, give it to me - without the ninja shit - and I won’t blow your fucking head off.”

“You broke it on purpose, didn’t you? Just to be a dick.” 

“You wouldn’t be fucking with me, would you?”

“Elves. Elves! If you’re playing with those kind of fucking people.”

“You rolled some dice, you killed a whole bunch of shit, and you got some cash.”

“Oh! Speaking of useless people… Here’s another one.”

“Yeah, I followed you, because I know you’re full of shit.

“And I thought that maybe an example needed to be made. And I’m looking around this room, and I’m seeing lots of potential examples.”

“Pudding! I remember being killed by an orange pudding.”

“You fucked me. I told you not to fuck me.”

“I’ve got enough bullets to put an ‘I lose’ button right between the eyes of every geek in here.”

“Goon? You’re hurtful, that’s what you are. You’re hurtful and stinging.”

“I haven’t done goon work in - in over a decade.”

“You know what, I like this new, useful you. So we’re gunna go with that.”

“Goodbye pudding.”

“You know what… you have really inconvenienced me, kid.”

“I mean, what the fuck? Sweating balls in the morning and freezing them at night.”

“Now you got me off the goddamn path - talking to goddamn nerds, or geeks, or whatever the fuck you want to identify with.”

“You know what, we’ll go with dorks.”

“Am I using that word right? Woke?”

“Anyway, couple years back I would have popped two in your face for just seeing mine.”

“Something is wrong with me. Going to have to see my guy about that.”

“Just focus on the task at hand and maybe you’ll survive this shit. Maybe.”

“Don’t fuck this up.”

“I’m going to stay up here with my scope in some kind of a… support role.”

“Heads up, you’re gunna feel this one.”

“There’s an art to taking out a car with one shot…”

“Whoops, may have gotten a little carried away with that one.”

“This one’s got a little something on his face. I’m going to help him with that.”

“Nice car. I’m just gunna… pimp it up a bit.”

“…And I’ve always considered myself an artist.”

“Sometimes I like to pretend the bullets are like little cats chasing after my laser pointer.”

“This guy has the dumbest look on his face and it’s pissing me off… You have no idea.”

“That’s gunna blow up nice.”

“Sorry pal, this is gunna sting a little.”

“Fuck me, I know the one. I was just going to blow it up to intimidate [name].”

“Thanks for drawing the fire away from me. I owe you one.”

“That was fun. You’re a fun guy, you know?”

“No can do, playdate with [name]. Toodles.”

“I want to change the terms of our relationship.”

“You know what, that’s far. That is, that is fair.”

“But the thing is, I don’t have any real reason to kill you anymore because I don’t gain from it.”

“It’s a win-win. Your people are happy, my group’s happy, everyone’s happy. Well, except [name], of course, because he’s… dead.”

“That’s good instinct. You should hold onto that instinct.”

“I’m gunna go, anyway, finish my mint chocolate chip. It’s great!”

“I won’t get in the way of your nerd shit, you don’t get in the way of my master performance.”

“Sorry pal. The opportunity came up and, well, I’m an opportunist.”

“Be a dear and turn yourself in, will you?”

“You caught me in a good mood… maybe on account of the mint chocolate chip. But I’m usually much less friendly.”

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🗣 HAPPY FUCKING BIRTHDAY KYLE GAZ GARRICK LOVE OF MY LIFE. BESTEST BOY. MY GOLDEN CINNAMON APPLE !!!!!!!!!!!!!

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@bruisednotes / SOAP ──

a kiss after a long time apart kiss meme.

Kick used to make fun of reunion airport scenes in movies, the ones where a party jumps into their partner's arms and they kiss dramatically in front of everyone, where things were passionate and full of PDA and really fucking cheesy. The first time he'd seen a guy get greeted that way by his girl, he'd laughed, he'd been a little mean about it. Mocking and dramatic, to the point where he'd done the same thing to the man when they'd returned from leave - he'd thrown himself at him and fake kisssed him dramatically, kicking one foot up while everyone had laughed and laughed...

Now, though, he gets it. Now, as Jesse watches Soap walk through the security doors into the baggage claim, he fucking gets it. Arms wrapping tight around his beloved partner in front of everyone, head ducking down so that he can give him one hell of a fucking kiss - exactly the kind he used to mock years before, a kiss that's too much affection, a little heat, and is definitely awkward for anyone around them.

He fucking gets it, okay, and he doesn't fucking care. Especially not when Soap pulls away with bright eyes and flushed cheeks, when he's ruining Kick's curls with calloused fingers and murmuring affection and adoration so openly that his heart could fucking burst from how hard it's beating, how light it feels in his chest -

"Hey baby," The kisses he rains down on Soap's face are obnoxious, continuous. The way he slides a hand from the younger man's lower back to his ass to give it a squeeze downright inappropriate for where they stood - but fuck it, fuck everything, he understood it now. "I fucking missed you."