#brynn post

[the-moonchild-system]

Having DID is downloading the same meme to your phone repeatedly thinking "wait did I save this already??? ...Better do it again to be safe..."

[the-moonchild-system]

When insta suggests your ex's mother as "someone you may know" 😬😬😬 like yeah bitch I know her but I wish I didn't ☠☠☠

[the-moonchild-system]

Massively dissociated today. Dana really isn't doing well, but she still staying close to front because she feels like she has to force herself to be around because shes the host. I'm tryjng really hard to differentiate between her emotions and my own but it's hard to.

Right now she's got the overwhelming urge to relapse or just not exist at all anymore. Idk how to help her though and she's too scared to talk to anyone about it.

[witchbabywigg]

The Beautiful Death

You come striding off the concourse like you own this place, every piece of it belongs to you. You are impeccably dressed: cream-colored coat tightly buttoned against the coastal chill, suede boots cutting gently into the meat of your thighs, massive designer sunglasses, a designer bag. Your hair is perfect, your makeup is perfect, the edges of your tattoos poking out from the neckline of the jacket.

Next to you, I feel butch, my green plaid flannel’s sleeves rolled up to my elbows. Hands rough from work. Hair chopped and flat-ironed into submission, bangs out of my face with bobby pins. Jeans that I’ve been meaning to patch, but haven’t. Boots that I keep at a mirror shine with rainbow laces. “Aye, I’m wearin’ combat boots” they say “but I’m one o’ ye. Point me at a skinhead and I’ll punch.”

You kiss me hard. It hurts a bit. I smirk. Your lipstick tastes like caramel, leaving a sticky frosting on my mouth. From there it’s blurred. We talk. It’s useless. It’s noise to fill the air, decorate the tension. It’s been years.

We’re in my truck, heading for my hotel. Part of me feels sordid, like I paid to bring her here to satiate my loneliness, like a whore who services me in attention, but the Kisses come free (”It’s like eternal birth control” she wheedled the first time, dragging her fangs across my neck, making my toes curl. “You’ll never have to worry about me bonding to you.”) Part of me is joyous... finally! A relationship that I can maintain. It’s not healthy. But it’s maintained. The sliver that’s left is the one that tells the truth.

She doesn’t love you. That’s not how this works. You don’t actually love her. That’s not how this works. You can’t bond to her. She can’t be bonded to you. But she will bite you and drink you, time and time again, because she hopes to everything she still believes in that she will wake up the next night and feel it. REALLY feel it. And when she does, she’ll do it again. And again. Until it’s full. Until she loves nothing but you. And then it gets bad. She’ll love you until she needs to be inside you, split you apart, bathe in you, chew on you, lap you up, sup upon you, and bind your spirit to a chunk of marble, to keep you forever.

It won’t be until then that she realizes what she’s done. Maybe she’ll kill herself. Maybe she’ll go mad and the Malkavians will have to lock her up at the bottom of the asylum. She’s dangerous. She’d kill you if she was in the right position.

And the rest of me responds: Then I will love her how she needs until then. However “false” others would say it is. I will give her that attention, I will stroke her hair, tell her I care, silence the ghosts as best as I can. I cannot be anything other than who I am, truthful to me and my spirit, and that spirit is one that knows the true language of God is Love, and to Love is part of my work here on Earth.

She tells me to pull over, urgently. I do. She tells me seclusion. I find an alley. She is on me. She’s not wearing anything under the coat. Begging, pleading, nearly sobbing. She “needs” me. Wheedling, kissing, hands wandering. Anything she can do to get me to yield, to consent. She needs, as much as anything, that consent, enthusiastic, joyous.

Lucinde would kill me if she found out, and it made me feel awful in the pit of my stomach that she would be disappointed in me, in the responsibility she had given me. My hands moved over her, mindlessly, trying to bite back my guilt regarding a woman I felt no true affection for... but I could not feel disgusting about disappointing. “She can’t know.” I thought. Which she? The one here, or the one over there?

I opened my eyes, forced a smile through the guilt, lidded my eyes and tilted my head past the pain of knowing that I used to love this, dream of this, the anticipation, the begging. I assented. I consented. I pulled my hair away from the side of my neck.

Everything was beautiful as she bit my neck. I held her close, moaned her name into her ear before I was completely lost in bliss. She gripped my left breast in her hand, squeezing hard, her other hand trailing down my stomach under my tank top and flannel, towards my jeans. I clenched my fists behind her back, willing myself not to return the favor with my own two fangs. It went on, as those things do. And it was lovely. Wonderful.

Back on the road. She’s wiping her hands off with baby wipes that smell like lavender and chamomile. I roll down the window, light a smoke. The guilt comes back like a truck.

I’ll love you how you need for the weekend, my beauty. Then you’ll go home. And... I’ll go have a long conversation with Brigid about what I’ve done.

[witchbabywigg]

Phone Calls

Just dial.

Fuck.

Just... do it. You have her number (you always have her number).

Fine. FUCK.

booooooop....... booooooooop....... boooooo- CLICK.

FUCK.

Can’t.

Can’t do it.

Nope.

Yes I can. (Christ, Bella)

Just fucking DO IT.

boooooop..... booooooooop.... booooooooop....

“Oi, it’s Brynn, but she ain’t home, so leave a message after the tone, aye? BEEP”

BEEP.

Click.

FUCK.

FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK.

aaaaAUGH I’M SUCH A FUCKING MESS.

WHY AM I SHAKING.

FUCK YOU, ROCK.

DO. IT. BELLA.

FINE.

booooop..... booooooop.... boooooop...

“Oi, it’s Brynn, but she ain’t home, so leave a message after the tone, aye? BEEP”

BEEP.

hey. HEY. It’s uh... it’s Bella. Hey. I’m in... Ashtown. I want to see you. I’ll come up there, if I have to. Yeah. Uh. Bye.

Click.

Did it.

Ugh.

Gonna throw up now.

FUCK.

buzz.

Buzz? Fuck.

buzz.

“TEXT FROM: Brynn 🍀😍👩‍❤️‍👩👅💦: check ur email. ur flight boards @ 9pm tmrw nite. 😘 cu @ santa cruz airport at 10pm tomorrow xoxo”

...Haha... aww fuck.