#bad posting hours but i crave validation

[vasira96]

once upon a time there was a railroad line

the Fates

Hermes, Persephone

Orpheus and Eurydice

Hades

[kennexara]

getting real fucking sick of the fact every month my brain spins a wheel with 3 sections labelled irrationally angry, irrationally sad, and irrationally anxiety and then spins another wheel with one section labelled ‘eat sugar until you’re sick’ and makes me live by the two results for an entire week and then afterwards looks back and is like ‘damn bitch you live like this?’ as if it isn’t fucking responsible. 

[durgeapologist]

Omg your blog is such a relief. Every day I feel more and more like I want to distance myself from about 80% of the Solavellan community bc I am telling you it is ROUGH being into the egg and wanting to talk about him but being surrounded by people who think that everyone and their mother is out to get them. Meanwhile someone can come up with valid criticisms about how Lavellan's characterization was handled in VG and get swarmed with unsolicited opinions about solrook shippers and accusations of misogyny. I also see them running around in posts that are clearly marked as "Critical" And half the time when I CAN talk to them about Solas it's like they aren't even talking about the same character I am? They want him to be some helpless little abuse victim who isn't responsible for anything he does??? Why are we redeeming him if he did nothing wrong? What would be the point? We love him because he's fucked up and a manipulative bastard but also complex???? Did we play the same game girlies???

i have been staring at this ask since it came in trying to find a normal way to respond to you anon i will be so fr rn so i am so sorry it's taken a few hours

i’ll start with this:

“Why are we redeeming him if he did nothing wrong?”

full stop. this. so much. (i am in love with you anon) why is there a atonement/redemption ending if he did nothing wrong? (you’re literally so real) solas has done horrendous things. like genuinely abhorrent. (i crave to be your friend so bad anon) he is a genocidal, serial killing, manipulative lying cunt. to say the least. AND THAT IS WHY I LOVE HIM. he has such complex characteristics that make him so intriguing. he wants to be a good person. but he doesn’t really know how to be genuine. he is riddled with guilt and regret. he feels BAD about the things he has done. but he doesn’t want to face his mistakes. he knows he has done absolutely terrible things in the name of his people and their liberation, things most of them never asked him to do. some even asked him to NOT DO THOSE THINGS. did he listen? of course not! this is solas we are talking about. arrogant, prideful, calculating solas.

“They want him to be some helpless little abusive victim who isn’t responsible for anything he does.”

yes. yep. THIS SO BAD. (genuinely let me be your friend pls i am on my knees begging) the dynamic between solythal gets convoluted by most solasmancers because of three things: misogyny, jealousy, and ignorance. was there abuse? yeah. not denying that. was there only abuse? no. mythal was a victim of abuse herself. the way she learned to love, she passed down to solas. BOTH were victims of abuse who did terrible, no good, awful things. BOTH were also extremely powerful, omnipotent, and power-hungry individuals. mythal's hunger for power showcased differently than solas' and was amplified (IMO) by elgar'nan whispering in her ear. solas had felassan to keep him in check.

i am of the UPMOST certainty that had solas not taken down the evanuris the way he did and went to sleep after creating the veil, he would have become another tyrant ruling over the elven people. (THE MASKED EMPIRE ANYONE? HELLO? HELLOOOOO?) also anyone who says she was his MOTHER or SISTER?? god please drown me. put me in a tub and hold my head under water. that was his PARTNER AND HIS LOVER. i cannot with the takes that she raised his ass COME ON. i have sooooo much more to say about this dynamic and the themes of abuse AND how solasmancers twist it to make her this most evil, vile, horrible woman; but i would like to keep some of my followers tbh (anon i am frothing at the mouth if you want to discuss this further i beg you to dm me) so we shall move on.

"...valid criticisms about how Lavellan's characterization was handled in VG..."

yeah full stop i will never forgive them for making her one personality type. sorry, i just won't. my lavellan egg-mancer was a strong-willed and angry proud dalish woman who told solas off every chance she could! i am genuinely so happy people who wanted the dynamic we got in VG got that, because that is how their lavellan is/was, but what about the lavs who punched him? who told him to stop being an asshole about elves, and just farmed approval for the romance by asking questions? i chose to hunt his ass down BECAUSE I WANTED TO HUNT HIS ASS DOWN! my lavellan would not be so understanding or forgiving, she just wouldn't, so it feels like my girl's personality was ripped away from her fr. now, i DO NOT agree with some of the takes on how she was presented because those criticisms are in fact riddled with misogyny and most are just downright vile. but i do agree with the criticisms that not all lavellans would have been so kind to that bald man.

so anon, TRUST me when i say i feel you so bad. i was in lots of solavellan spaces before i started shipping dreadrook, and even then i was looked at SO funny for my takes on the romance and called plenty of terrible things simply because i didn't hold solas up on this pedestal and make my lav worship the ground he walked on. even as a dreadrooker, the same exact takes that i couldn't get behind in solav spaces are very prevalent in dreadrook spaces. solasmancers have a tendency to simply agree with solas on everything and refuse to acknowledge how bad of a person he really can be.

i am a proud solasmancer AND a proud solas hater. #1 solas hater, in fact. i rarely have positive things to say about his actions and behaviors outside of a joke setting, and even in a joke setting the things people will say to defend him RUB ME SO BADLY THE WRONG WAY. also heavy on the perusing the "critical" tags and getting offended when my takes are, in fact, critical LMFAO. anon i am literally a beggar sitting on the side of the street waving a metal cup at you asking for coins of your affection rn. i have maybe one other friend who feels like this and have hardly anyone to rant about these things with. holding my hands out towards you and begging you to dm me fr. PLEASE. we can be critical together <3

[darkpetal16]

Sorry, I saw you already have a post with siren gaster headcanons! Could we get some siren!Sans headcanons instead? :)

Mhmm!

Clingy.

He can give you space if you need it, but if you allow it he will always be touching you. holding hands, nuzzling you, licking you, sitting in your lap, tracing your skin, etc. This man is touch starved to such a severe degree that no amount of contact is enough to fulfill him. He constantly craves your physical validation.

When he sleeps with you, he 1.) always positions himself between you and the door 2.) is on you 3.) is in short bursts. What I mean by short bursts is that he’ll sleep for two hours, guard for one hour, then sleep another two hours. Orcas are used to constantly moving, and while his moth side has helped him “lay” for sleep, it’s an unnatural state to him. That, and he’s anxious to leave you vulnerable.

Nests.

You do not have a bedroom; you have a nest. You’ve had to move all your clothes to a separate room because the nest has engulfed the entire room. It wouldn’t be so bad, but he wrapped everything in white silk too so you can’t undo it or clean it up.

You sleep in a nest and that’s that.

It is a very good thing that it is the single comfiest place you have ever slept in your entire life. Everything has been positioned to support you in the best way, and it’s completely pitch black inside, and you know—you know—you are the safest human in the entire city when he lays beside you. You are safe, warm, and cozy. Every sleep in the nest is impeccable.

Fidgets. As mentioned above, orcas are constantly moving. After he lost his pod, he never stayed in one location for long so this only exasperated the issue. Unless being held by you, he is squirming. He’s tapping his foot, drumming his fingers, shifting his weight side to side, or outright pacing. If the weather is nice enough he’ll fly.

He hunts. If you know about his hunts and support it, great. If not and he thinks you’ll oppose it, he’ll hide it. Wings will help with this.

The EXP deeply warped his SOUL. He has a constant craving for more. Thankfully his self control is strong enough to prevent him from going feral. He can’t quit even if he wants to by this point.

So jealous. So, so jealous.

If someone makes you laugh he is beside himself with jealousy. He will immediately grab your hand, then proceed to stare at the other person to the point that they will inevitably feel uncomfortable and have to leave. He doesn’t glare, he doesn’t need to. His eye rings are already intimidating enough so all he has to do is stare blankly at them.

And if anyone touches you without your permission, you can count on them disappearing from your life by the next morning. 

Can be petty. If there is someone in your life that you like, even if he doesn’t like them, he won’t hurt them. But he will absolutely be a petty little shit. Examples include lightly sprinkling them with his moth dust to give them sneezing fits, whoopee cushions on their chair, reading ahead of a book they like and spoilering it with a deadpan expression, etc.

Likes to learn. Specifically astrology and physics. Once he obtains his citizenship, he’ll start to take college classes. He’s really good at it. He’ll either end up working in a lab with Wingding, or he’ll (surprisingly) take up a position as a university professor teaching astrophysics. It’ll depend on your own schedule and if you have kids (for example, if you have kids he’ll go the teacher route so he’ll have a more lax schedule to spend time with the children).

Avid debater in the science community. Some of his theories are award winning. Some of them are trolling. He will defend and die on the hills of his theories, and he can be so damn persuasive that people will even fall for his trolly theories. It has divided communities, while also bringing new ones together to explore different avenues because people can’t tell which is which. Only you and he know the truth.

Side note: Wings will spend an exorbitant amount of time and money to disprove Sans’ theories. Sans retaliates by disproving Wings’ theories. It is a never ending cycle.

Dates are dependent on you. He doesn’t know human courtship so it’ll be up to you to show him what you want and expect in the relationship.

Fresh fish. He catches it himself. If you’re allergic to fish then he’ll hunt birds. If you’re vegan then he’ll learn to garden. Providing food for you is important to him.

Short. So short. His monster form is hilariously tiny compared to his moth or orca form. It makes it easy to carry him around which he’s very fond of. But he expects you to let him carry you around in turn.

Happy to take you swimming or flying.

After a year of being together he’ll start to absently hum while doing menial tasks.

If you point it out to him, you’ll see a rare moment of him being shy.

PLAY HIS ROUTE IN SIREN CALL HERE

MASTERLIST

[cecilscribbles]

From Now, Until the End of Time: An Essay and Character Analysis Disguised as Ship Propaganda

So. You guys really liked that post, huh.

This essay has been a long time coming. I've spent hours awake at night thinking about these two characters, drawn heaps of fanart, I've made Spotify playlists and Pinterest boards, all in an attempt to drown out the urge to eat fiberglass insulation. I love these two, so, so much, and I hope this analysis does them justice.

It’s just under here. vvv

The Past

Starting off with the obvious: these two have history. Bill came into Ford's life at the absolute perfect time. He'd been seemingly betrayed by Stanley, the one person he thought he could count on, he'd been working himself half to death trying to wrangle some decent qualifications out of Backupsmore, and was attempting to make a name for himself in Gravity Falls. Things weren't looking too good. He'd hit a roadblock in his studies, and he felt like he still stuck out, even in a town full of cryptids and outcasts alike. He was getting desperate. He was vulnerable.

Ford often says he wants to become a pioneer, a founding father of science; which isn't necessarily wrong, he isn't lying when he says so, but this ambition really stems from wanting to be accepted and understood. Ford is cripplingly lonely, and you can see how this profound isolation reflects in every aspect of his life and his relationships with others.

So when Bill comes along, it's everything Ford could ask for: validation, understanding, mutual trust, and someone who helps him follow his dream.

They hit it off immediately. “You can call me anything except late for dinner!” “You catch on quick! I think I'm starting to like you, Sixer!” “Perfectly legitimate use of an Oxford comma!” “Jinx! WOW! Get out of my head!” “You first.” This is the first time Ford (and Bill) has clicked with someone in years.

Ford wasn't the only one in need of a relationship like this. Bill, struggling with the guilt of destroying Euclydia, wanted something - or someone - under his control. He wanted to be revered, to be seen as something other than the bad guy. Who better to come across than a lost soul, desperate to feel chosen, to feel special, with a passion for the supernatural?

Even if it wasn’t for long, they worked. They enjoyed each other’s company. And while Bill was using Ford for his own gain, and what they had wasn’t exactly healthy, there were real feelings on both sides.

There still are.

Which is a perfect segue into the next section.

The Present

You wouldn't want to be in a room with these two, would you? They have an absolutely explosive dynamic, an unbelievable amount of tension and chemistry. I think this is because they want to believe they hate each other, but whether they like it or not, they satisfy each other’s cravings and desires. They get the itches the other just can’t scratch. This was especially prominent during the early days of their relationship, but it doesn’t end there.

When Ford needed validation, Bill flattered him endlessly. When he was in shambles after falling through the portal, hunting down Bill gave him a mission to follow. When Bill wanted control, Ford was easily manipulated. When he was bored, he was there for him to play with as much as he so desired.

All of this, and yet: they can’t help but destroy each other.

Ford spiraled into paranoia because of Bill. He constructed the portal he fell into because of Bill. He got captured and tortured because of Bill.

Bill drove himself half insane trying to get Ford to listen to him. He had a drunken meltdown because of Ford. Weirdmaggedon ultimately failed because of Ford!

These two know each other to an uncomfortable degree. They have both been at their most vulnerable with the other person. They know each other’s bodies better than their own (not trying to imply anything here other than possession, but… take it as you will). They know each other's minds better than their own. What they have is messy and toxic and strangely intimate. The bizarre mix of emotions that they feel for each other makes them so interesting to watch.

The Future

The jewel in the crown of an already delectable dynamic; the amount of potential they have.

They’re often toeing some razor-thin line; between platonic and romantic, romantic and sexual, life and death, something and nothing. There are so many ways their relationship can go, so many realities, yet they’re together in every single one.

If one thing went a little different, they could still be together. If Bill had been honest in the beginning, or changed his tactics during Weirdmaggedon, he could have won Ford over. With so much time, so much knowledge of the other person, so much… whatever their twisted version of love is, the possibilities are endless. And I think this is a pretty good place to sign off.

The past, present and future, love and hatred, pain and ecstacy, this dynamic has it all. And the recent release of The Book of Bill only adds fuel to the fire. It's so refreshing to see so many new faces in the community, as well as old ones finally proven right. I didn’t doubt you for a second.

If you’ve made it to the end, thanks! I hope it was worth your time. Stay weird.

- Cecil

[denimbex1986]

'Mission: Impossible – Dead Reckoning Part One director Christopher McQuarrie addresses Barbie and Oppenheimer's negative impact on his film's box office. Tom Cruise returns as Ethan Hunt for the seventh film in the long-running action franchise, which earned strong reviews from critics. Despite strong reviews, however, the latest sequel has struggled financially, with excitement around the "Barbenheimer" phenomenon ultimately eclipsing Hunt's latest adventure.

Now, in a recent interview on the Empire Spoiler Specials podcast, McQuarrie addresses Mission: Impossible – Dead Reckoning Part One's box office defeat at the hands of Barbie and Oppenheimer.

McQuarrie chooses not to focus on his own film's financial shortcomings, but instead expresses his excitement for fellow filmmakers Greta Gerwig and Christopher Nolan and what the success of their movies means for cinema. Check out McQuarrie's full comment below when asked about the "tsunami" that is Barbenheimer:

“I couldn’t be more delighted. We meant what we said when we went out and bought those tickets. I meant what I said when I went on Twitter – my last ever post on Twitter – and said, ‘Go pink or go home.’ Could not be more thrilled for Margot [Robbie], who I think is an extraordinary talent, a mega-star. And I’m delighted for the validation that the movie gives to that part of Margot that is that mega-star. And I hope the lessons learned from that are applied. Couldn’t be more thrilled for Greta.

“Chris Nolan… you want to talk about between a rock and a hard place? You want to talk about a guy whose movie was a three-plus hour R-rated drama with nudity that leaves you feeling quote-unquote 'devastated’. That’s a tough sell. That’s one helluva marketing strategy. And he won. He called it like Babe Ruth and he won. God bless him. Congratulations. That’s fantastic.

“And it’s a triumph for original movies. It’s a triumph for films that are not sequels. And in the case of Oppenheimer, a drama. What movies used to be all the time. Tom and I just look at each other all the time like, ‘Man, it’s just about quality.’”

Why Barbenheimer Beat Dead Reckoning Part One

When it comes to movies, this year has been an interesting wake-up call for several big-budget action franchises. After disappointing performances from Fast X and Indiana Jones and the Dial of Destiny, Mission: Impossible 7's performance strongly suggests that audiences might be craving new things instead of additional installments in long-running franchises.

That being said, Mission: Impossible 7 has been a hit with those who saw it. Unlike Fast X and Indiana Jones 5, the new Cruise film hasn't been really divisive in terms of its quality. Really, then, Mission: Impossible 7's underperformance can seemingly mostly be boiled down to bad timing. The film was only able to play for less than 2 weeks in IMAX, a format that has traditionally been strong for the franchise, before Oppenheimer took over all the screens due to pre-existing agreements.

The lack of premium large format screens was undoubtedly a major blow, but excitement for both Barbie and Oppenheimer was also way higher than really anyone had anticipated. Both films have broken records and shot past projections. In hindsight, clearly, Paramount should have moved Mission: Impossible – Dead Reckoning Part One's release date, and it may have enjoyed a much more profitable run.'

[themlemever]

Ohh, this post, this one speaks to me.

As a teenager, I'll put it bluntly, I don't get respect. I don't wanna go outside, sit in a car for two or three hours, and get a headache all because one of my family members wants to go to one specific store? Too bad! I don't get a choice and have to go anyway even though I at no point leave the car during this venture. I forgot to do one simple chore some night? Lazy! Bad memory!

And God forbid I try to have a meaningful conversation with my family, because I just get brushed off like a little kid. I even get treated like a maid. I constantly have to have an ear out for the sound of someone asking me to get something for them because they can't be bothered to do it themselves. No one else gets treated like that, just me. I try to do something that needs to be done by myself, I get told I'm not doing it right with no further elaboration. Even if I do it correctly I don't get much more than a thank you, no "I'm proud of you" no nothing.

That's why I crave validation and interaction online, I'm filling the gap.

consider: teenagers aren’t apathetic about everything they’re just used to you shitting all over whatever they show excitement about

[btypeblues]

A Homebody Touches Grass

I’m a huge couch potato. Always have been. And I’ve always been weirdly proud of it. Like, I talk about how I don’t like going out and prefer staying in with my little homebody hobbies like it makes me superior to people who actually enjoy being out and about.

But, truth is, too much of anything is bad. And in my case, it slowly contributed to my depression.

When things get tough, my default is to disappear. Isolate. I’ve had days where I sleep more than half the day after work. I’d keep the lights off and just stay in the dark. Skipped meals. Stopped taking care of myself. Ignored my friends. Survived on junk food and called it "fuel." Not in a fun way.

But earlier today, something changed a bit. I went out with my boyfriend. He’s been asking if we could go to this pool at a subdivision in our city. Said he used to live there for a while when he was looking after his uncle’s house.

We bought snacks from 7/11. Two hotdog buns. Two cups of ice. One liter of Coke. Two bags of chips. And two donuts with Bavarian vanilla filling. A whole mood.

And you know what? I felt like a giddy kid. I felt light. Like, genuinely excited. I swam like a frog for half an hour. Took silly pics. Shot a few videos. Drenched myself in chlorinated joy.

We only stayed a little over an hour. Took a short walk around the subdivision afterward, but I decided to go home soon after as I didn't want my boyfriend to keep carrying the heavy bad with all our stuff (wet clothes + Coke = heavy af).

When I got home, I posted my pics and videos to IG and FB. Threw on some filters. Added music. Craved the validation. Lol.

But yeah. I went out. I had fun. I didn’t disappear today. That felt really good.

[hey-its-haliee]

[W3: Remember Tumblr? We all are missing this digital icon!]

Are you keeping up? Captain Tumblr, its sailors, and their ships hit different—stirring the waters of digital discourse like no other.

Public spheres—the mature, calm, and ever-so-demure older sister—create spaces for people to connect, debate, and speak their minds, all in the name of open communication, critical thinking, and a dash of democracy. Then there’s the chaotic younger sibling, micro-public spheres—modern, chic, and armed with its own charm: platform vernaculars. But despite their differences, both share the same fate: surveillance and algorithmic bias creeping in, twisting conversations, distorting discourse, and trapping us in echo chambers.

But what if there's one place on earth that mastered this messy digital chaos?🤯🤯🤯

1. Tumblr's got a point, Tumblr’s an icon, Tumblr's a legend and Tumblr's the moment

_#Nobody’s_Cool_in_Middle_School

Tumblr became the ultimate hangout for teens craving a more authentic and “cool” space, especially as Facebook started feeling more like a place for parents and older generations. As one 2014 post summed it up: “I chose Tumblr because I’m not attractive enough for YouTube, not popular enough for Twitter, and Facebook is dumb.” (Reeve 2016) It wasn’t just memes and reblogs—it was a hub for self-expression, exploration, activism, and identity exploration, especially for LGBTQ+ youth - which for teens, that’s all they could have asked for.

"Charlie: (19, trans male, queer, urban) Knowing there were other people who were this sexuality or they were also transgender, that was a really big thing for me to be able to see—that there were other people that were also figuring themselves out sexuality wise. That was a nice thing for 15-year-old me to find out about." (Byron et al. 2019)

*this is a joke, I still love you Facebook😉

2. Shipping Cultures in Tumblr: The good, the bad, and the ugly

_What's the hype?

Remember when we spent hours curating our perfect Tumblr aesthetic, writing 2,000-word fan theories, and waging war over OTPs? Yeah, we were all unhinged—but in the best way.

Shipping culture was Tumblr’s bread and butter, where fans obsessed over their favorite pairings—canon or not. With customizable blogs, anonymity, and a solid tagging system, users shared fanfics, art, and deep-dive analysis. Same-sex ships especially flourished, sparking conversations about queer representation and visibility, which earned Tumblr the nickname: "The queerest place on the internet" (Hannell 2023).

However, Tumblr wasn’t without drama (Oh yes she’s a drama queen indeed!), as intense "shipping wars" occasionally turned toxic, highlighting both the passion and complexities of this vibrant online culture. Well, let’s just say, it’s not Tumblr without posts saying why Drarry is better than Dramione, or “shippers” at each other’s throats arguing about TomStar and Starco.

_Types of ships

Canon Ships: Pairings that are officially confirmed (e.g. Hiccup and Astrid from How To Train Your Dragon).

Non-Canon Ships: Relationships imagined by fans that are not confirmed or even hinted at (e.g., Johnlock in Sherlock Holmes).

Crack Ships: Wild, humorous pairings with little to no narrative basis (e.g. Twilight Sparkle in My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic and Mordecai from Regular Show).

_Canon or Not Canon: When your OTP becomes NOTP.

For fans, a canon ship feels like validation, fueling their imagination with more fanfic and art. But non-canon ships thrive too, giving creative freedom to explore “what if” scenarios—especially when the story’s relationships fall flat. Fans love finding subtext, chemistry, or representation where creators didn’t.

At the end of the day, canon status doesn’t make or break a ship’s importance. Shipping is all about how fans connect with the pairing, the joy it brings, and the communities and stories they build around it. I mean come on, we all bond some way or another when talking about a random 3000 words fanfic of Johnlock, right?

_Case study: The Johnlock conspiracy (TJLC) - We are all detectives now!

The rise of the Sherlock fandom and the "Johnlock" ship (Sherlock Holmes/John Watson) is Tumblr's most iconic shipping case. Fans were drawn to the chemistry between Benedict Cumberbatch and Martin Freeman, interpreting romantic subtext, even picking up on subtle clues (i.e. motifs, body language) that was never even confirmed in the show. However, not everyone was having it, with some going as far as calling it queerbaiting—teasing a same-sex relationship without actually following through.

And so it began, Tumblr turned into the hub for fan art, fanfic, and deep-dive theories, with TJLC fueling arguments on whether this is a hidden slow-burn romance arc or simply outrageous. The reblog culture amplified discussions and beliefs, turning Johnlock into a cultural phenomenon. While this showcased Tumblr’s influence, it also led to clashes with showrunners and fandom toxicity when Johnlock didn’t become canon, with Moffat calling queerbaiting claims “ridiculous” and Gatiss joking, “Oh yes, the secret episode is hidden in my cupboard. I'll send it to you if you like!”

Final thoughts:

Tumblr wasn’t just a website; it was a cultural shift. From fan theories to self discovery, it shaped how we interact with the media. So maybe we don’t use it like we used to—but its legacy? #Still unmatched.

References:

Byron, P, Robards, B, Hanckel, B, Vivienne, S & Churchill, B 2019, ‘“Hey, I’m Having These Experiences”: Tumblr Use and Young People’s Queer (Dis)connections’, International Journal of Communication, vol. 13, pp. 2239–2259, viewed <https://ijoc.org/index.php/ijoc/article/view/9677>.

Hannell, B 2023, ‘The queerest place on the internet?: Queer belonging on Tumblr’, Sociological Studies Research, viewed <https://socstudiesresearch.com/2023/02/03/the-queerest-place-on-the-internet-queer-belonging-on-tumblr/>.

Reeve, E 2016, ‘The Secret Lives of Tumblr Teens’, The New Republic, viewed <https://newrepublic.com/article/129002/secret-lives-tumblr-teens>.

[raspberry-pudding]

4/8/2024

It's been awhile since I've made a post and I think I'd like to before I have to go into work today. It's only a 5 hour shift, so it'll be over in no time, but damn -- only 5 hours? Why even be there at that point?

I've recently put my foot down about the days I'm available at work, so I finally have a consistent weekly schedule that doesn't change much. The times might change, but I'm now only available three days a week, giving me four days a week to work on my projects. I'm really excited to have a routine come back into my life. There are so many things I've put to the side this year for work, and all of them are technically much more important than this job. Ugh, I just, can't wait to have a consistent schedule, even if the times might be different every week at least it's always the same days.

Let's talk about how my weed addiction is going below the cut.

I think the last time I posted, I talked about a friend I've made who is much deeper in the addiction than I am and how that's made me feel like I'm not really an addict. I think now, even though my problem isn't as extreme as others, I do still struggle with a problem that I need to cut out of my life. I might not be smoking the entire day, or doing high doses of THC like with a dab, but I notice that it's still impacting my life and keeping me from doing things that I want to do. It's like I come home from work, I smoke, and I just zone out on TikTok the entire evening. It's been a big problem, especially because I'm getting more and more bored in the evenings.

Another reason I really need to cut it out is my tendencies to snack more on weed. Especially the indica I'm using to help me sleep now -- I have to smoke it when I'm in bed. If I don't, and I just casually smoke it in the evening while at my desk or in the living room then I will eat anything in sight. To the point that my stomach still hurts the next day. It's bad.

Thankfully, I got a hybrid that doesn't make me hungry. Still, the dispensary isn't always going to have the non-munchie stuff in stock all the time.

I can't remember if it was Wednesday or Friday now that I was watching hotdiggedydemon, or Max G, stream and he was discussing his own problems with weed in the past. Also, how he's off it now, has never felt better, and agrees that it is an addictive substance. If anything, his talk about weed made me feel really validated that what I should be doing is the right choice.

Recently, I did have an evening where I smoked three joints -- three! But it was a one off thing because otherwise I've been good to only smoke one or two joints a day. My problem now though is that the first joint usually happens around 9 or 10 AM. I think that's way too early, but on my days off I struggle to restrict myself because it's so nice to smoke then clean the house. I do need to stop, though. I can't get high that early and expect to succeed at all the other things I want to do.

I'd like to start quitting by waiting to smoke around 4 or 5 PM and going back to one joint a day to ween myself off. I know my last plan didn't go well lol, when I said I was going to keep my weed in the basement. Maybe that could still be in the cards if I need it. So far, yesterday I got off work at 2 and did well to wait until after 4 to smoke. I think it's going to be my days off where I'll struggle the most.

In my head, I always see myself meditating to get past any cravings for weed I might have. But thinking about actually doing that makes me cringe a little. It's a little woo-woo, or hippy dippy. But maybe it's something that could help me. I don't really know though.

It's hard. I feel like I know so clearly the things I need to do to quit and get back the lifestyle I want, yet taking action feels impossible. And there's no reason for it to feel impossible.

It's a Monday, and I feel hopeful for myself that this is gonna be the week. But how many times have I told myself that for the past 2 years? At some point, it has to be true though.

Iris🪻

[commiicc]

Hi. I'd like to talk a little about my time on social media as an artist. I'm sure a lot of this has been said by a ton of artists before me, but I'm going to say it again anyways.

My online handle is @ commiicc. I've gone by the alias Comic for a few years now. I was extremely active of Twitter during the height of the DreamSMP fandom. My time in this community brought me many memories and experience. Both good and bad. Today, I just want to focus on the art.

In my opinion and experience the art community of the DSMP fandom was so incredibly toxic. Artists were the backbone of the community. It was said time and time again. But this held many artists to unfair expectations. The turn around on art was insane. If art was not posted directly after or the day after the stream/ event it would flop. Posts would circulate about the perfect posting times, which I would memorize, then be so sad when I'd post at those times and a price would still fail. I'd blame myself. I'd internalize it and think I just wasn't good enough. It was never my art. It was simply the shit algorithm that is any social media, but that didn't stop me of course.

And I watched so many young artists beg for followers, because validation meant everything. And we all wanted to be mutuals with the popular, big twitters because that meant we'd made it... right?

I watched followers drop and people ask if they'd done something wrong to deserve it because canceling was so common. It was usually just bots being deleted, but "what if I did something wrong" was always everyone's go to.

Going back to artists being the backbone of the community and pumping out content. I used to say how thankful I was for the community because it made me grow and find my style. But in reality, I only found my style once I stepped back and took time on a piece. I was just slapping shit together back then. I hated most of what I made during that time. It was all rushed. Because no one gave me time. I always felt so rushed to post something so it gets attention. Post something so my followers don't think Im leaving. Because if you took too long to post (more than a week) you'd start losing people. I was a small artist and craved that attention... So I forced myself to create, even if I had no ideas. It's pushed me into burn out.

I'd compare myself to other artists who somehow created masterpieces in like two hours when it took me ages to do anything. I compared myself to everyone and hated everything I did. It was incredibly unhealthy.

I've only just now started making things I enjoy again.

Even when I switched fandoms I was still in the mindset of pushing out art, so I hate it all.

Only after burning myself out can I now restart and find my style... Can I now actually create again.

And I know that's just the culture of social media. and people used to tell me "just don't care" "just don't look at the views". do you know how hard it is to be a 16, 17, even 18 years old and NOT look at that??? to be a new artist and NOT care how much attention your art gets??? when a content creator that you love can see your fanart and has actually seen it.. all humans want is validation. Social media prys on that toxic need. On that innate human need. Cause yeah, we all want to know that what we're doing looks good, but holy shit was that place bad.

And I KNOW I'm not the first person to say this. I'm just trying to share my experience and I'm putting all this disclaimer here in case... So please just check yourself and remember we're all human. Social media is kinda awful and this is literally just my blog to share long thoughts and archive who I am. My time on social media fucked me up a little and I'm just now realizing it. That's what all this is.

So yeah all this to say, I'm done posting my art on social media for now. I'm done pumping out art just for the sake of it. When I create something worth sharing, I'll post it. But for now, I'll be in my comfortable void. I'm around and always willing to chat about the art making process or just chat in general. I'm creating. I always have been. I'm just not sharing it. It's not for your eyes.

It will be when im ready.

And new artists, young artists, any artists; your worth is not determined by the views or likes a post gets. Your art is worth more than any amount of attention it gets on social media. Don't create for attention. Create because you enjoy it. Create for yourself. That's where the magic happens.

thanks for reading. sorry this is long. I'm very wordy. thanks for being here.

- Comic

[goldenboywrites]

“Apollo?” A voice called out from the earpiece of his phone. “Are you there?” His first instinct was to fight the arms against him. He was hurt, and Isaac knew it, but Apollo had always been touch-starved and could already feel the anger leaking out of his bones. “I’m here,” He said, leaning back against Isaac’s chest. He closed his eyes and sucked in an audible breath before continuing, “I’m getting a shipment at work tomorrow, and I can’t be there.” He cleared his throat. Isaac’s fingers pressed into his bare skin, leaving a fire trail in their wake. “Can you stop by and sign for me?” After her confirmation and ignoring her questions about what he was busy with, Apollo hung up the phone. 

He tucked his phone back into his pocket, his body erupting into goosebumps as Isaac’s lips pressed against his skin. Apollo turned to face him, careful not to break Isaac’s hold on him. He knew he should still be upset that he was upset for a valid reason, but Apollo found he was too exhausted to hold onto that anger any longer. “I won’t go,” He said softly, leaning forward to press his forehead against Isaac’s. “I’ll stay.”Apollo wrapped his arms around his boyfriend’s neck, pressing his body closer to Isaac’s warmth, craving it in ways he had thought impossible. Still, Isaac always had the power to make Apollo long for more. 

“But,” He said after a quiet moment, “You have to work out your shit with Cassio.” Apollo tangled his fingers through Isaac’s curls, tilting the man’s face down to look at him. “Because I won’t choose between you two. I can’t. If it comes down to that, I will walk away from both of you.” He wouldn’t, couldn’t, because that would probably kill Apollo, but it was the best threat he had in his back pocket, but Isaac was never one to call him out of his bluffs. He knew just how stubborn the man could be. “Don’t make me do that.” 

Apollo leaned forward, nudging his nose against Isaac’s, and kissed the man softly, reassuringly. He had spent years kissing Isaac at this point, but this time, it sent tingles down his spine. It felt like kissing him for the first time in that maze back at university. Apollo moaned softly, deepening their kiss, his grip on Isaac’s hair tightening, tugging gently. He felt warm and couldn’t stop pulling Isaac towards the bed. He knew, vaguely in the back of his mind, that Cassio and Oliver were downstairs with the kid, but everything inside of him was telling him they would wait. “Isaac,” Apollo said his name gently after breaking away from their kiss, the back of his knees hitting the bed, and Apollo’s body came down on top of it next. His body felt feverish, or maybe because this was his favorite part post-fight, the making-up bit. “Come here,” Apollo all but purred. He took his fingers through the loop of his boyfriend’s pants, tugging him forward until he was nestled in between Apollo’s legs. “We have time, come here.”

________________

“Hey, so,” Oliver said, turning his head up to look at Cassio. After Isaac had left to go makeup with Apollo, he snuggled under the blond’s arm, leaning into his side. It had been almost ten minutes of silence from upstairs, and to be fair, Oliver had expected them to be back down by now. It only took a glance from Theodore, seeing Oliver and Cassio cuddling, before the toddler abandoned his toys and approached them. His head rested on Cass’ thigh, and he was fighting the lull of sleep. “What you said earlier?” Oliver tilted his head back onto Cassio’s shoulder, soothingly moving his fingers through Theodore’s hair. It was wild how he had only known the boy for an hour, and it already felt like he had known him his entire life. It wasn’t saying much because Oliver typically loved everyone within ten minutes of meeting them, but he was fond of the little guy. Sure, it was weird that he remembered events he wasn’t present for, but he was just a kid. How bad could the real story be? 

“Is that something you want, you know, in the future?” he asked. The kids with me part remained unspoken, but Oliver figured Cassio would catch his drift. “I’ve always been kind of torn. Coming from a huge family like mine was always overwhelming and sucked sometimes. But on the other hand, I have a massive support system when I need it, and even though my brothers are kind of assholes, they do tend to always pull through for me, and I don’t know who I would be without them. I-” He paused, looking back at Cassio to judge his reaction. “I mean, I don’t want as many kids as my parents had, but I think two would be nice. They’ll always have each other that way. What, um, do you think when you think about the future?”

He itched to run after Apollo. This was too hard not actually getting to speak to him and trying to keep up his own act. Because if he were being honest, he was scared that this could be more than they were able to see in that moment. His hand squeezed his boyfriend's tightly and he managed to smile for him. "Honestly?" He asked, his shoulders shrugging deep. There was no telling what was the right answer. But he did know they couldn't run. Together was safest for them all at the moment as far as he was concerned. "I don't think we should leave. I know that Isaac is .." He swallowed and shook his head. "He's upset just like Apollo and I can't blame either of them. I wouldn't know what to do either." He offered the smallest of smiles to him and decided to settle in against him, watching the little boy reluctantly clean up all of his things.

"I do know this." He started, shyly looking up at him from under his lashes. "I can't leave you alone with a line of credit when there's a child around." He laughed softly, winking at Theo when he showed him yet another gift Oliver had went through all the trouble to pick out for the little one. Cass brought their hands up against his lips and gently kissed each of his knuckles lightly. "I think you'd make a great dad." His voice was soft and he let their fingers rest against his lips after he'd said it, feeling the weight of it. But more so realizing that he wasn't opposed to this for them. Which scared the hell out of him.

_________________________

Isaac stood so still he wasn't entirely sure he was breathing at that moment. He'd brought that on himself and he knew it. And maybe it was a little of an exaggeration, just a little. But who would have completely acted perfectly having this thrown in their lap. Isaac knew deep down that the way Apollo felt for Cassio wasn't as it had felt to him, but how did he explain that? They'd always discussed how difficult things had been for Apollo growing up but Isaac hadn't the easiest go of it either. Being veela was hard enough, no matter the amount, but to be a male one? He'd struggled through what came easily to the women of his kind but he thought himself mostly well adjusted. Well, he had until he'd encountered the other men under this roof.

He drew in a deep breath, feeling the headache start to swell behind his eye and he'd cursed under his breath. If he didn't get this back under control and his sister showed up, they were worse for wear. Though, a woman's hand might not be the worst .. Stop. He'd exhaled and found himself staring at the door. There was no chance in hell that the pair, and the boy, hadn't heard that and so there was no point in pretending. Isaac fixed his face, wiping away the tear streaks he hadn't realized were there and he pushed open the door with his own flair. Isaac strolled into the room as if nothing had happened. Because for now, it hadn't, if he were going to do this, then the most positive mood had to be in the forefront of his mind. He'd hate himself for it later but if you had it, why not use it.

"Olive'h" He smiled and turned to Cass and nodded, "Cass. I thin' we maybe are a bi' ove'whelmed." Because that was the understatement of the century. He was careful to touch them both on their knees just so. He'd peeked over his shoulder at the little boy and smiled brightly at him. It was then he'd felt a tightness in his chest and it nearly overwhelmed him how much that little smile truly brightened his whole mood. His attention shot back to the other two and he cleared his throat. His hands started to feel warm from the contact and soon their faces began to soften and grow to almost glow. "If ya wouldn' min' jus' keepin' an eye o' him fo' jus' a momen'." Cass' cheeks were damn near red at that moment and it was then that Isaac saw, perhaps for the first time that he hadn't looked at him once in those few moments. No, his attention was solely on Oliver and he felt as if he'd been invading a private moment between them. "An' .." He started, slowly coming to stand and withdrawing his influence to a softer ray. "'m sorry i' ya heard us in there it's jus ..."

"It's okay. Maddox's aren't easy." And the two of them, Isaac and Cassio looked at each other and smiled in some sort of understanding in that moment. I nodded and excused himself to their room where he heard Apollo on the phone. He was already too late. Well ...

Isaac walked right in and closed the door behind him. He'd felt the glare from Apollo while he had the phone pressed to his ear but he advanced on him quickly. This could only work if he didn't give Apollo a chance to dodge him. His arms wrapped around the man from the back and Isaac pressed his cheek to the back of Apollo's neck. The direct contact to flesh had always been better, especially for him since his claim was less than half. "'m sorry." He whispered, those salt water streaks coming back to litter his cheeks and soak the other's shirt. He didn't care. If it meant he didn't leave, didn't go where Isaac couldn't follow then it would be worth it. And maybe he'd be mad at him after, maybe he'd not even tell him but that was something he'd have to wrestle with later.

"Please don' go." He didn't care if he could be heard but he had a sinking feeling she was already on her way. "I don' wan' ya to thin' I don' pick this i's jus' ...." He felt his breath catch and he paused, clutching Apollo tighter, his face moving until his lips brushed against the sharp angle of his hair line. "We can do this jus' don' leave." He felt his magic warming his own body and he went further, his fingertips shoving up underneath of Apollo's shirt. The contact felt like it was going to melt him but in the best way possible. "Please?"

[shir0ch4ns-art]

TW// MISCARRIAGE

I know that this isn't what I usually post or even have on this blog but like I feel like I'm gonna scream or break down if I just don't put this down on some form of like "physical" words.

This got really long and does kinda goes through the emotions felt so I suggest not clicking the read more if you're not in a good space to read this

As the trigger warning suggests, I just had a miscarriage. The same fucking day I did a pregnancy test. It was simultaneously the best and worst day of my life. I had started off kinda scared and nervous but it also just confirmed my suspicions for the past few weeks since I missed my period. I then just felt so happy, like I was on cloud 9 the whole morning. I went to work I called my mom I was on the phone until I had to officially open the store (I was on opening shift so I'm there half an hour early to prepare) I was just so happy. Then I noticed some spotting and then some more spotting and finally I caught the tiniest bit of red and I fucking left. I told my lead what was happening, and they were just shoving me out the door. I left work 2 hours early and then spent literally the whole day at the Urgent Care just to get a fucking "we don't know". I was a bit mad then but I have since realized that I had detected my pregnancy super early and most people don't even realize they're pregnant until way later on, I'm just super observant of my monthly because it's a bit irregular. And with that it would be extremely hard to tell what was happening. They put me on bed rest for 2 days and to go back the second day. I was bleeding so much between then that I just knew I had miscarried but I was deluding myself into thinking that I was wrong that maybe it was something else, something that can be fixed or maybe I was freaking out over nothing. Only to go in and do some blood work that I got the result back from before the UC doctor did and just...blue screened. I knew, I waited in that waiting room with my husband and mom for the confirmation but I knew. And just like that it was gone.

I'm devastated and angry because logically I know there's no reason, logically I know this just happens sometimes, logically I know it was nothing I did or didn't do...but emotionally I wanna know why, why did this happen, how did this happen so quickly, seriously what the fuck happened. I'm mad because I didn't even get a chance to see what kind of person it would have been, I didn't get a chance to see this potential person grow up, I didn't even get a chance to at least hold them. And I'm just gonna mention it right now that I am vehemently pro-choice and I don't want my use of referring to what wasn't even an embryo at the stage I lost my pregnancy as a potential person to be used for pro-life rhetoric. I don't make this threat casually or at all but I will fucking block and flag you if you do. I'm referring to it as a potential person because I actually wanted this pregnancy not because it was even a life at the point of miscarriage, if I hadn't done a pregnancy test I would have thought it was just a really late really bad period. But I did, and I knew, and that's what's making it so hard to fully come to terms with. It wasn't entirely planned but it was wanted and that hurts.

I'm doing better now, I have a really good support web of friends and family that have helped me through these past few days. My husband being the most supportive one and being my rock throughout this. I'm not even sure why I'm making this post but if anyone else in my position sees this and find some kind of comfort that they're not alone in this and that yes their feelings of despair and anger are valid and that just having someone else experience the same makes them feel less alone then I'll leave this up. I might delete this later or I might forget but if it helps then I'll purposely leave it up.

I nicknamed it capsicum since it made me crave spicy foods like no tomorrow.

[thebreakfastgenie]

apologies if any of these have been done already but 💥🎉🤍

Sorry for the delay, tumblr ate my response, but I got it back.

💥find your least kudos'd fic - say something wonderful about it.

I had a lot of fun adapting Supernatural characters into teachers. The core teachers are the Horseman; Death is the English teach, Mr. Mort, who only assigns books related to death. Other characters are in a different English class, taught by fangirl Becky, who makes her students do fandom style homoerotic subtext analysis and honestly I still think that's hilarious now. The history teacher is War, Mr. Guerre, and he teaches exclusively about war, the bloodier the better.  In this AU, Dean and Cas meet when Cas saves him from a fight, and I wrote:  “My name is Castiel, and I am the one who just saved your ass.” And honestly I think that was pretty good, as far as AUing that line goes.  All in all, this fic (what I wrote of it) is really... prettty decent? I mean, a lot of the writing makes me cringe, but not like I expected it to. I wrote it in 2016, when I was 16.  My fic with the second-least kudos is Wake at 23, which I think is mostly because it's the most recent. I love Wake. I wrote a lot of it at 3am and I knew there were typos in it and I avoided looking at it for a couple of weeks, but when I finally did, it actually needed way less work than I thought. I basically just fixed typos and a couple sentences that didn't make sense because it was 3am but it was clear what I meant to say, and did minimal editing otherwise. I'm really happy with the writing quality on that one! 

🎉how often do you celebrate completing & posting a work? how often do you give yourself the credit/validation that you seek from others when you post? (if you don't, you should!)

I celebrate when I actually complete & post, which isn't often. I don't usually do much, but I do enjoy it and feel good about it. I always give myself credit! I wouldn't say I seek validation from others; I crave feedback and engagement, I want a response, but it's not validation I'm looking for. There have been a couple times I wanted to post a fic on a particular day, and for life reasons had to post things a bit rough, and I don't always give myself enough credit for finishing in those cases, but I'm working on it. Celebrating mostly looks like me sitting in my room feeling satisfied, but when I actually complete and post ghost AU I'm going to buy a bottle of wine or something. 

🤍what's one fic of yours you think people didn't "get"?

Wake started out as kind of an exercise in deconstruction, but it became a story in its own right and I think it's better for it. The intended message of Wake was to show BJ feeling uncomfortable now that he was back in the life he'd spent so long dreaming of, feeling as though he doesn't fit, that he no longer belongs in his home, feeling distant from Peg who's the person he's supposed to feel closest to, not recognizing himself and worrying he's not the person he's supposed to be, and then showing all those feelings as being his fears, not the truth. It's all a part of his trauma and his brain is lying to him.  I said this about this fic before, but he doesn't really wake up until Peg wakes him up by joining him in the kitchen. BJ sitting alone feeling alienated is part of the nightmare. It mirrors Peg's nightmare, where he comes home but she can't recognize him (haha I totally did that on purpose....).  But there's one line in particular in this fic: BJ and Hawkeye, awake in the small hours, listening for choppers, and the war might as well have not ended at all, because not a damn thing had changed. I'm not sure people realized this was a bad thing. It's not negative on Hawkeye and BJ's friendship generally, but the point is that they have to let go of how they were during the war, if they want to wake up from the nightmare (and maybe Hawkeye already has; we don't know, because he doesn't appear here, only BJ's fantasy of him). BJ is clinging to Hawkeye as someone who understands, but he needs to let go. BJ calling Hawkeye at a normal hour to talk to his friend would be good; BJ calling Hawkeye here would be bad, and it's a good thing that he chooses not to.  I was worried about people not getting the BJ scene in hills like white elephants. I think the part where Hawkeye suspects BJ figured out what he did but they don't discuss it for safety reasons is pretty clear. I hope so. I was concerned about that scene coming off too Hawkeye/Margaret, because I was worried people would think BJ thought Hawkeye was or might have the father, or that I was implying that. I'm very much against that interpretation of the canon version of this episode, because I think Hawkeye's role is more meaningful without that implication, and I feel that way tenfold about this fic. I don't want any implication that Hawkeye gave Margaret an abortion because he was somehow involved in her pregnancy. He did it because she needed one and that's it. However, despite all my fears, no one seems to have misinterpreted that scene! What a relief!! 

[averagerationalcitizen]

50 things to do to seem smarter!

Hello! I really don't know how you discovered this part of the internet. I would love to assume that you are a serotonin-deficient almost drop-out college student who has papers due in 4 hours and has to study for midterms that haven't seen sunlight in days. Given this scenario, it's nice to think that I'm a great person who suffers from imposter syndrome but hell no! Sadly, it's no imposter syndrome, it's actually the real me! Hence, the creation of this list to seem like a smarter person!

Listen to experimental music/ an obscure song from an obscure source created during an obscure time like an Icelandic rock band during the hippie movement.

Use the word "social order" when pertaining to a group of people or to society in general.

Own a satchel... and yes, it must be made out of leather. I don't care if you are vegan, this is different since that cow willingly chose to be a piece of leather.

Only drink coffee if it is cold brew and from a French press and an espresso.

Own something older than you, perhaps a 1970s commercial typewriter that doesn't have ink because it is a norm! Duh...

SMOKE!!! Specifically smoke Marlboro Reds, especially during parties outside on the balcony. (I don't encourage you to smoke, it's bad but it's so intellectual)

Use the word "derivative" when describing the nuance of an object meanwhile, use the word "manifest" when describing the obvious.

Use graphs and diagrams when trying to explain a topic that doesn't need graphs or diagrams.

Have an affinity for works with lengthy titles like "Someone Who Will Love You for All Your Damaged Glory" or "Whatever People Say I Am, That's What I'm Not"

Collect quotes to use in random conversations, bonus if the quote is in a foreign language. It can go like this, "Hey, have you heard that Regina & George broke up after a 7-year relationship?" "If the partner becomes a God he can just easily become the Devil..."

Say that you are craving Ukrainian food for 3 years now...

Reblog the New Yorker. The only valid magazine out there, fuck you New York Times.

Perhaps enjoy a coffee from a convenience store or coffee machine and say that it's worker's coffee that tastes like shit but is consistent so you won't face any Coffee-esque Capgras' delusion.

Have a favorite cruciverbalist, columnist, or documentarian in your favorite newspaper.

Abuse the ellipsis... like make it your bitch!

Shoot random things at your home with a "digital camera with a flash-on lowlight" aesthetic.

Be in love with Evelyn McHale's photo or stuff that looks like The Smiths album cover.

Learn the art of the mixtape with an actual VHS and not spotify ewww... but they could still work tho.

When buying cheese, answer it like participating in a spelling bee. It's like, "Can I have the country of origin?"

Own a wine decanter because wine is a living and breathing organism which is something that an embryo would never be so stfu pro-lifers and deal with it.

When talking about your feelings and emotions, express them in metaphors and oxymorons.

Have a Criterion Collection or a Poster of your favorite film by your favorite director.

Rewatch children's cartoons cause there are probably things you missed from back then or you were just never loved as a kid.

Have a favorite Simpson's episode! if you haven't seen it, go watch it!

Record all the times you've cried and post a selfie with it with a review.

Back your vices and addictions with scientific claims regarding how beneficial they are.

Detest TED Talks with a burning passion considering how they create faux intellectuals in the current social order

Know what sarcasm is and how to identify it...

Carry a Moleskine journal filled with alien hieroglyphics that is your handwriting.

Try not to clean your glasses because you are thinking about more important things in life.

Be a twittertature writer or a blogger on tumblr even though you fucking hate writing!

Listen religiously to NPR or their podcasts.

Watch Marvel films and series that you enjoy ironically.

Start ridiculous conspiracies on Reddit that would have your account banned considering that they can spark the next world war.

Talk to the rat eating its m&ms on Youtube for hours because you don't know how to be vulnerable with your emotions. Yes, this is a personal attack.

Own a bike... that hangs on your wall because you don't know how to ride it.

Use Habitica and be active in a guild and the only remaining party member active in it.

When doing sports, wear proper gear with something slightly off

Make Notion formats for every project.

Play a game that can only be played through a Discord Game Refugee Server.

Make a zine, hopefully, something not about cheese.

Title your works in alliterations or puns to show wit.

Pirate textbooks and research articles, like how Jesus died for our sins; Socrates died for our knowledge.

Learn Morse Code and use it to communicate with your friends; if you have no friends, use it to communicate with the spirits of WWII vets in the cemetery.

Write your notes in a mirrored manner because you wanna write on a glass board cause it's cooler.

Use vegan recipes from meal kit delivery services without subscribing to them because fuck capitalism!

Join a Parliamentary Debate organization in your school to flex your intellectual muscles despite sucking at it.

Always buy Rye or Bourbon as your alcohol of choice.

Buy camping gear just in case the apocalypse happens or you suddenly want to escape your life right now and be a part of the post-modern beat generation.

Fall asleep to lengthy ass video essays with no proper fucking arguments.

I know there are other things that can make you look smarter so feel free to add a bit more. These things are mainly based on the observations of the people around me and people's typical descriptions of faux intellectuals.

[barzzal]

between halls and thin walls → part four

summary: friends who fool around almost never works. almost.

↳ pairing: mathew barzal x you

↳ warnings: idiots, that’s all <3

↳ genre: fluff, angst, smut, roommates au, best friend’s best friend, friends with benefits, 18+

↳ length: series; part one, part two, part three, part four (6.7k), part five, part six

↳ masterlist: the barn

↳ track: my favorite part by mac miller, addicted by jorja smith, someone to spend time with by los retros

note: finally got myself to update this fic oml zzz quick psa tho, this will now be a six-part series! hope that’s okay and yenno as always, would love to hear what you think about this (validate me in the tags pls im lonely) happy reading babes! <3

“Yo, grandma. Haven’t you had too much tea to drink?” his voice echoes in the room as soon as he walks into it. You carefully set the cup down on the dining table and looked at him exasperatedly. 

“Haven’t you had too much care to give?” you snark back, earning yourself a disappointed look from him. 

“Really, y/n? That’s the best you’ve got?” he shakes his head at your appalling retort.  What a shame.

You were good at pissing him off to be fair. You just weren’t in the mood to throw teases back and forth especially now that you’re feeling particularly vulnerable.

The week has been far too dreadful for you and you know that you’re willing to grovel your way into the weekend to finally have the time to slack off, not worry about taking a bath, and just go crazy with a pint of Ben & Jerry’s.

However, just like always, Mathew seems to never run out of ways to get on your nerves. 

He carelessly puts his stuff on the table, causing a fairly loud thud on the surface. 

You let out a deep breath, massaging your temple. 

“Somebody’s cranky.” he grins. Not necessarily the kind you’d want to see from him. 

You try to ignore him for a few minutes but you can’t help noticing how his build easily took over much of the space you’ve already been occupying. You irkingly look up at him, closing the book you were reading. You meet Mat’s eyes who just innocently looked back into yours. Waiting. Possibly plotting on yet another sophisticated way to toy with you.

“You’re a child.” you roll your eyes and return to your reading. He says nothing and instead rests his chin atop his enclasped hands, continuing to bother you with his ridiculously beguiling eyes. He presses his lips together before sighing dramatically. 

“What?” you snap, finally shutting your book down as you look at him. 

“I wanna go out.” he looks up at you in an effort to make his huge physique smaller than it really was. 

“Then go out. You’re a big boy.” you breathe. 

“You just said that I’m a child.” he coos, mimicking a five-year-old’s voice. 

“Stop that.” you glare at him. Mat props himself back and laughs, “Come on. I’m bored.” 

You open your book again just as you reply in a tone that Mat’s getting used to hearing. “Boredom doesn’t give you the right to pester me, Barzal.” 

And as an exchange, he speaks in the same tone rather mockingly, “And so is that attitude, Y/L/N.” 

“Come on, y/n. Let’s go out.” he now pleads, looking up at you with what seems to be his worst impression of a ‘puppy eye’.

“Fine.” you finally concede and you see Mat’s beaming smile instantly. 

“Where’d you want to go?” you ask as you take your reading glasses off.

“Dunno.” He shrugs, obviously teasing. 

On the edge of being irritated, you say, “Are you kidding me?”

“Grandma.” he mumbles before saying, “Do you have anything you want to do? And please don’t say book hunt.”

You suppress a smile and maintain your composure. “I’m craving for pancakes right now but I also wanna drink. Go to a bar or something.”

He nods in agreement. Already stitching his game plan.

“We can do both.”  he bobs his all too fine brows.

He didn’t have a hard time getting you on board with his spontaneity. You actually haven’t gone out in a while and the thought of a possible night out doesn’t seem to be so bad of an idea.

You’ve been with Mat to parties and while the two of you don’t mingle as much as the other guys did, he does know his way around the club. The dance floor, however, he tries. He really does.

For about an hour Mathew waited patiently in the living room as he scrolled endlessly on instagram liking a few photos and laughing at posts the fans tag him occasionally. His eyes were peeled away from the screen when he heard the door to your room click. His irises trail onto your body even if he didn’t plan to originally. 

Mathew, albeit dressed simply in his black turtleneck sweater and a beige overcoat exudes just about the right ‘swag’ (as per how he puts it) to stop you in your stupor. Although what you didn’t know was how you weren’t any different in his eyes. You were dressed quite nicely in a black lace bodysuit with a pair of blackpants accentuated by the black boots you usually wear on a night out. Your coat was slung on your forearm whilst you held your clutch purse in your hand so you could close the door with the other. 

“What?” you blink just as you look down to eye yourself. Feeling a tad self-conscious under his gaze.

Mat immediately breaks it off. He clears his throat, pretending to wipe off the non-existent dust on the accent table. 

“What?” he mirrors with an arched brow.

You shrug off his demeanor, snatching your keys from the accent table before putting it in your purse. 

“Have you called a lyft already?” he nods, absentmindedly scratching his temple. 

“You ready? You look— decent.” He says, trying to act casual and distant when he gives you the compliment.

Not noticing the unfamiliar look his eyes had, you return the compliment and say,  “And so do you. Good job for not looking like you came straight out of an H&M catalogue.” you wink at him with a grin. A thing which was then reciprocated by a deadpan look on his end. 

Before he could even come up with yet another clever way to come at you, you start walking towards the door, looking at him once as you motion the way by curling your finger.

“Haul ass, buddy.”

𖥸

10:15 PM 

Mat decided to bring you to the usual place he goes to when he wants to be alone and just enjoy a couple of beers while he chats with River, the bartender he eventually befriends after years spent drinking in solitude. 

The bar had a rustic feel filled with wine barrels in the corner of the room. The seats were leather (mind you, it wasn’t the kind that gets easily worn out through time) and everything looked new to you regardless of all the vintage stuff displayed articulately on the brick wall. A turntable was set on the table stacked with vinyl records, most of which were from the 70s to 80s underneath.

It was obvious that it wasn’t the kind people would know about. Aside from it being located at such a secluded street leading to the suburbs, it wasn’t the type of bar kids would want to hang out in. It only had a few customers and most of them wore suits and came with company. No one really gave a hoot when you walked in with Mathew, aka, the face of the New York Islanders. Which is basically the reason why Mat kept coming back to the place. He felt comfortable and at peace. Almost in retrospect to being at home hanging with his father. 

“I can’t believe this place exists.” you say, mouthing your thanks to River as he hands you both of your drinks. The man that’s definitely aged like fine wine smiles, nodding his head over to Mat who was doing the same before he headed back to mix another set of drinks. 

“Me neither.” he grins, reminiscing about the time he’s found the small pub by accident. 

“This place looks expensive though.” you whisper, making Mathew laugh. 

“Well, it kinda is.” he sheepishly chuckles. “River’s filthy rich.”

“Is he really?” your mouth falls and you look back over the build of the old man. The way his salt and pepper hair was neatly slicked back makes quite a compelling case for what Mat had just said. 

Mat eventually explains who he was. Apparently, he was just another bored fancy man who happened to love making people drop dead and drunk with his over the top mixes. His dark deep set brown eyes are quite of a crowd favourite too. Case in point, the group of ladies seated from across you and Mathew.

“Hey.” you absentmindedly call on Mat who had just sipped on his drink. “I know what we should do.”

“All right.” he puts the glass down, “Lay it on me.”

“Let’s fix you up with one of the girls over there.” you suggest, leaning towards his body so you could get a better view upfront. Mat does not move and instead follows your finger subtly pointing at the other end of the room.

“What’s with the sudden fixation of getting me bagged tonight, huh?” he smirks, shaking his head at the idea of having to go home with some random girl. You give him a side eye as you move away from him. 

“Fixation is an overstatement. We’ll be here long enough for us to get sick of each other.” you explicitly told him. 

Mat eyes you intently. Searching if there was even the slightest doubt in your eyes. 

Long enough to get sick of each other. 

He clears his throat instead and looks across the room. “Which one?”

A gleeful cheer erupts from you just before you look over the girls in question. “What’s your type?” you ask him, not sparing a glance.

Mat looks down on you underneath the bar lights accentuating your features. Your eyes had a certain glint in them that Mat still can’t get a grasp on. Something that was just enough to spark something inside him. He didn’t want to overthink it nonetheless. It must have been just the lights. 

Once Mat sensed that you were about to look at him he immediately turned his gaze forward, squinting his eyes a little pretending to check out the women you’ve been eyeing for the last minute. 

“I don’t really have a type.” he shrugs, casually taking the fragile glass to his mouth. 

You dismiss what he said at once, “Do I look like a child to you? Just answer it.”

Mat shakes his head, “I told you. I don’t have one. If we vibe then we vibe. Simple as that.” 

You did not believe him but you decide to drop it off. Instead, you look back and return to your new found mission. Across the bar, seated were three girls busy talking to each other. 

“Got it.” you tell Mat, nodding your head towards the clueless girl sitting right across from where Mathew was. “The one in the center.” you add. “The one wearing a white bodycon.”

“She’s pretty.” he nods, validating your taste as his potential wingman. “Nice smile.”

Your hand met a firm slap on the table as you went on cheering for him. “Well? Go then!” you give him a nudge, taking it back quickly when you feel a slight hesitation on his part, “Don’t tell me you need me to introduce you?”

He takes the remainder of his glass and shaked off the kick it had in his throat. “You just sit and watch, babe.”

You do as you’re told and lean towards the bar, your elbow carrying all your weight whilst you sip on your half-full martini. 

Mathew’s stance and the way he carries himself immediately caused the girls to notice him coming. Of course, you weren’t really surprised. You watch him approach her,– reading along the words leaving his mouth. There was an exchange of proper ‘hello’s’ as Mat introduced himself to the girls. He reaches out his hand and the curly noirette in the center gives him a firm shake. 

Mat’s eyes momentarily locked with yours just as you see their hands linger in the air— tangled long enough for him to make a quick segway. He winks your way as he sees you grin from your seat, shaking your head just after you felt the need to take a deep breath. A thing you assumed to be because of the drink. So, while Mat leads the girl to one of the empty booths and sits across from her, you call on River and ask for another drink. 

Mathew must have lost track of time by the second drink he shared with Zoe. He learns that she’s from upstate and was just on the island to visit her friends. She’s still working on her major at NYU; coincidentally in the same field as Lianna so that was one of the things they’ve talked about first hand. She wasn’t really into sports so Mat steered clear of his job because he didn’t want to bore her. 

“So…” Zoe smiles and tucks her hair behind her ear. “What’s the deal with you and the girl you’re with?” 

By the time she asked about you, only then did Mat remember who he was originally with. 

“Oh! She’s—” he looks over to where you’re seated only to find you laughing— no giggling with a man that was obviously a few years older than you. He’s wearing a neat black suit and a button down shirt with a couple of its first buttons opened. Zoe sees him frown, evidently losing his train of thought. 

She calls him with her sweet voice, “Mat?” 

“Yeah?” he absentmindedly answers, not wanting to take his eyes off of your hand that was now gently pushing the man’s arm whilst the two of you continue to burst into laughter. 

“Are you okay?” she asks.

What’s so funny? 

Finally, Mat hears Zoe’s distant voice that eventually took him back to his seat.

“Oh. Y-Yeah.” he apologetically smiles. “Sorry. What were you saying again?” 

She hesitates to ask about you after taking a quick glance your way upon seeing the way Mathew looked at you. Nevertheless, she decides to go for it.

“Aren’t you two together? I don’t want to come off strong here or anything. It’s just that I don’t want to get in between something if there ever is.” 

Mat looks at you one more time and as if you’ve felt his eyes all along you turn your way and meet his gaze. You shoot him a quiet smile, eyeing the guy sitting beside you, mouthing what he assumes to be an exaggerated “So hot!” on your end. He reciprocates your smile and gives you an approving nod.

Once you looked away, that’s the only time Mat finally answered the woman waiting patiently for his attention. 

“What?” Mat shakes his head wildly, blowing out air off his lips defensively. “No no no. We’re just friends. She’s my roommate actually.” he shrugs you off his mind and instead tries to put his entire focus on her. 

The remaining hours were spent with you and Mat getting along with your respective potential hook-ups. Not that it wasn’t the endgame either of you were hoping for at the back of your minds. 

He’s got to admit that Zoe was the kind of girl he’d be interested in. Another fact he’s kept a mental tab not to mention to you because he knows you’ll just get cocky. 

She was sweet and obviously eloquent. He knows she’s way smarter than he’ll ever be. But out of all those qualities, she was just as passionate at her craft as someone he likes to think he knows well enough. And that alone made a small smile creep on his lips. 

Nonetheless, despite all the aforementioned, Mathew found himself a bit more reserved than he usually is whenever he gets to meet and talk to his potential ‘lady friends’ as how you’ve put it countless times. He just wasn’t his exact self.  And he was beginning to question it. 

There were no fancy hockey plays thrown subtly into the conversation. Neither mentions of golfing nor over the top league events.  No butchered french pet names swiftly tucked in his sentences. And no endless questions that would eventually lead to something along the lines of ‘Do you want to get out of here?’

Well, not until Zoe’s friends got up their seats and she told him herself. 

“Hey. The girls and I are meeting up with some friends in Brooklyn. D’ya wanna come?” 

Mat’s eyes trail down to her hand now gently caressing his. He raises both his brows thinking of a possible ‘out’ because he wasn’t sure if it was a smart thing to leave you alone with a stranger. 

He hums, “Sure.” 

Zoe shows him a delighted smile before eventually sliding out of the booth to walk towards the bar she and her friends were formally seated. 

“I gotta use the restroom first. Please excuse me.” she gives him a nod before going back to chatting with her friends. 

You, on the other hand, see Mat leave the table aiming for an archway you presume to be where the loo was. 

“Hey,” you call the man whose name you’ve already forgotten. Your pause was long enough for him to acknowledge the chances that you actually did forget who he was. Obviously.

“Chris.” The man in his early 30s answers with a submitting grin. 

You shyly laugh, squeezing his forearm as you try to apologize for forgetting. 

“Would you mind if I use the restroom?” you politely ask. 

“No, not at all.” he replies and immediately stands to help you get on your feet. Gentleman. 

Once you are in front of the men’s room, you anxiously wait for your wingman. You hug your purse close to your chest. Not a whole minute after, the door finally opens and you meet Mat’s irises with quite a gleeful look. 

A look he wasn’t a fan of for he knew what’s about to come next. 

“Are you taking off?” you eagerly ask, almost hopping on your feet. 

Mat eyes you from head to toe, looking for signs that would stink from a drunk y/n. When he sees none, that’s when he decides to say that he was. 

“Mkay good. I’ll be on my way too. Chris is taking me to New Jersey.” you tell him, briefly looking through the archway to see if there were people listening.

Once you know you’re clear, you lean towards Mat, your lips dangerously close to the sensitive skin of his ear. Mat feels your heated breath sending a familiar tingle up his spine. “I’ll get to ride a yacht tonight.” you bite your lower lip and giddily smile as if you were a cheeky 16 year-old usually depicted in a coming of age movie. 

“Who’s Chris?” Mat, in spite of taking rounds observing you all night, finds the need to ask. “And why are you coming with him to NJ?” he further questions. 

“Uh– okay, dad.” you step back for a second. You let out a scoff, checking if he was being serious about it. “I thought we’re supposed to go get laid tonight? Weren’t you about to take off with that girl yourself?” 

Mat averts your gaze and starts to scratch the corner of his brow. “Well yeah. It’s just that— he looks sketchy.” he pauses, “plus… isn’t he a little too old for you?” 

You roll your eyes as you’ve already expected to hear the words from him. 

“He’s 31. He’s not that old.” you say rather defensively so you turn the ball back on his court. “And what if he was?  Didn’t you ask one of the moms out??”

Mat’s eyes widens and you try to bite back a laugh. He whispers with a biting tone, trying to save himself. “She didn’t look like one! I’m gonna kill Beau I swear to god.”

“Come on Barz. Don’t be such a killjoy. Text me if you need anything, okay? Wrap things up while you’re at it.” you say at once. Mat doesn’t get the chance to talk you out of such a stupid idea because before he even could, you’ve already planted a kiss on his cheek and started walking away. 

Mat waited for the sound of the heavy doors of the bar, signaling that you and your friend have gone, before stepping back to where Zoe was. She waves him near the coat closet. 

“Hi.” Mat greets her friends before eventually turning his attention on the unsuspecting lass. She meets her with a smile (just like what she’s been doing all night). The same smile, however, drops the second Mat opens his mouth. “Can I talk to you for a sec?” 

Zoe nods and willfully abides, letting Mat take her gently by the arm. 

“What’s up?” she innocently asks. 

“Something came up.” he says a little too fast than what he’d originally intended. He was going to let her down either way might as well get it over with and rip up the asshole band-aid. 

“Oh.” she says in a tone Mat knew that she completely understood. 

“No worries.” she looks at him with a knowing look in her eyes. “I’ll see you around then.” 

He gives her a kind smile and nods. “Take care.” 

Mathew walks towards the bar, catching River’s teasing grin whilst he cleans up after the bottles left on the center of the counter. 

“What?” Mat reacts defensively, taking a seat in front of the lone bartender. River faintly shakes his head to leave just enough curiosity in Mathew’s mind. 

“You’re such a tool, old man.” the kid says aiming for the cold beer River has put away for himself. River did not mind because he’s grown fond of the star player for the past years he’s spent going on late night drinks at his bar. Years that even justifies a proper amount of time for him to know the in’s and out’s of one Mathew Barzal. 

“I haven’t said a thing.” he shrugs amidst the already wide grin on his face. 

There’s wisdom in his eyes that Mathew has always admired. He wasn’t the guy who’d want to talk about what’s going on inside his head but with how River’s pub seems to be just the right place, he eventually concedes and takes a shot to pick on the old man’s brain.

“Come on, spill it out. I know you’re going to anyway.” Mat gives in, running his thumb on the moist label of the bottle. 

River wipes his hands before resting it atop the counter. “Well, it’s just that– I ain’t used to seeing you turn down ladies like that too often. And you’re definitely not one to stick around watching me clean up.”

Mat stays silent for a moment, as if to gather the exact reason as to why he chose to stay. He still has a long way to go before figuring that one out. He wasn’t exactly as sharp as he was on the ice.

“I don’t know, man.” he chuckles tirelessly, “I guess I wasn’t in the mood. That’s all.”

“You?” River shots a brow and dismisses him, shaking his head. When Mat doesn’t answer, he carefully picks on his choice of words and lays it down carefully for him. After all, Mathew should have known that River was old enough to not know what’s going on.

“Though I gotta be honest with you, hijo. Never imagined you’d bring someone here.” he starts. 

What must have been a shot in the dark for the old man was just enough to tear Mathew’s eyes away from staring at the water beads on the bottle.

“What?”

“The girl, Barz.” he says, banging on the head of the bottle to knock the cap off. “She a friend?” 

“What? Y/N?” Mat quirks his brows trailing off where River was exactly headed, “What about her?— Oh, her? Yeah, no. She’s just a friend.”

“She pretty.” he speaks in a sound accent, not wanting to let Mat know he’s growing to like catching the young lad off guard. Mathew nods casually despite the continuous blabbering. “She’s y/n. But yeah— I guess, she is pretty.” 

“Then what are you doing being just friends with a pretty girl?” River inquires, taking a sip of his beer. When he sees him trying to register what he’d just said he then adds, “Why not be with her? Date her?”

“Psh. What? Date y/n? That’s crazy.” Mat shakes his head furiously, “You’re crazy.” 

“What’s so crazy about that?” River takes offense, laughing at the child’s naivete. 

“I can’t date her. I mean— I won’t date her.” he takes the bottle to his mouth, taking a large gulp before continuing, “We’re in this weird relationship thing. A setup, actually, and it’s— it’s crazier than dating her. I swear, you of all people won’t get it.” 

“What makes you think I can’t?” he smirks, “I’ve had my fair share of crazy.” River points out despite the hesitation in Mat’s eyes. “I got all night, kid.” he adds, letting him have the floor to himself. 

“You really want in on this?” he second guesses, not wanting to bore the man with his personal life.

River leans against the brass counter just below the lit rack of vintage scotch displayed on the bar. He then gestures him to give a piece of his mind and Mat finally submits to his offer.

“We’ve been in a few… prior engagements,” he starts trying to find the appropriate word. “Well, sort of.”

River hums, not necessarily getting on the same page as him so he decides to be upfront about it.

“We’ve… slept together.” he confesses.

“So you used to date her?” the old man asks. 

“No.” he answers, “I told you we’re just friends.” 

With furrowed brows, River takes a minute. And once Mat hears an all too familiar “Oh.” he sees him break a chuckle, shaking his head at the thought of what Mat had just told him. “You kids have way too much fun these days.”

Mathew shrugs, “Hey, I warned you. Told you you wouldn’t get it.”

“Okay, make me understand something here. You two sleep together, fool around, do all that shit.” he says, “and you swear you’re not in a relationship?”

“Nope.” Mat answers with pride, popping out the word with a hard ‘p’.

“Huh.” River clicks his tongue, “How long have you two been… engaged?” 

He rolls his eyes when River uses his word, “About two months.” he answers shortly.

“Is she seeing anyone since you two started this thing? You know, casual dates, the ones I presume she’s been getting before you got her into this mess?” he asks him in a tone that only fathers would ever dare to use.

Mat thinks for a moment, trying to recall the last time he’s seen a guy pick you up for dinner besides the old man you’ve successfully bagged for the night. He firmly shakes his head no and simply says, “At least not in my recollection.”

River willfully nods, walking Mat right into the trap. “Well have you been seeing anyone lately?” he asks again, this time slipping a hint of assertion. He hears a crystal clear ‘no’ from the forward and that’s when he broke a goading grin. 

“And you’re telling me you two aren’t together?” he asks yet again, getting on Mat's nerves as he continues to flood him with biting queries, building up the final point he was about to break on Mathew.

“Rivs, for the hundredth time, no. We are not.” he clarifies. 

Mat watches River pour himself a glass of scotch, still wearing a smug grin. “Imma give you a piece of advice, yeah?” he smiles rather teasingly and doesn’t wait for Mat to rebut, “I’m a happily married man so I don’t know a single squat about dating nowadays, but if you’re telling me that you kids aren’t sleeping with anyone else but yourselves? Looks like a damn relationship to me.”

With his brows all quirked in confusion (and denial in the very least), Mathew gathers all his might just so he could refute whatever madness River was trying to inflict on him and screw him up in the head. But before he could even open his mouth, the sound of the heavy doors was all it took to tear up both River’s and Mat’s attention.

“Hi.” you say the moment you were welcomed by unsuspecting men talking by the bar. River acknowledges you by raising his drink, his gaze landing on Mat the moment yours did. 

“Hi.” Mathew mirrors you in an attempt to drown his already racing heart. A smile impending to break loose at any moment but he manages to suppress it. Instead of dealing with his adrenaline, he gestures for you to take a seat beside him. 

“Where’s the sugar daddy?” he laughs the moment you drag yourself from across the room, mocking every word he said. 

“His wife called when I got into his car.” you cringe.

“Oof. Lovely.” Mat makes the distinct expression on his face just before the two of you share a laugh.

“He’s not very smooth with adultery. He needs more practice.” you casually state sarcastically, clicking your tongue. 

As you find the narrative funny, you take a sip on Mathew’s beer. “How are you not drunk? You’ve been drinking way too much the entire night.”

“Well. I’ve got some things to think about—” he cuts himself off upon seeing your mouth ajar, “And no, you’re not allowed to ask because none of it concerns you.” 

“I wasn’t going to.” you dismiss him, excusing yourself to River which he gladly took as his cue to leave.

When he disappeared into the kitchen, you turned your gaze on your friend wearing another one of your mischievous grins, “Hey, wanna get pancakes?” 

“Y/N, it’s almost 3 AM.” Mat sighs, the tiring night starting to creep up to him. 

“So?” you question, swatting his hand away when you catch him checking on his watch. 

“Come on. Stop drinking that.” you insist and take the bottle from his hand before putting it over to the side. 

The two of you said your goodbyes to the lone bartender who was just starting to clean up again. River gives the two of you a nod of acknowledgement before landing a knowing look on Mathew. One that he’s thankful enough not to be discerned by you. 

As you walk alongside Mathew, he unconsciously places a hand on the small of your back— feeling it graze on the fabric of your coat as if to guide you towards the door in an almost romantic type of way. Perhaps, a way someone would behave if they were actually in a relationship. 

Mat notices your body tense but he doesn’t move an inch. Instead, his hand travels to the curve of your waist just as he leads you through the brass doors.

Once you’re out on the streets, he lets go.

𖥸

After almost half an hour of fighting over which diner is better to eat and get sober at, you and Mat decide to just try the new diner three blocks from your apartment. Being that it was an ungodly hour, the diner was good as closed when you got in. There were a few people inside and besides the student studying alone in the corner booth, the people lounging in the vacant seats were mostly just staff. Too bad they had to work the grave shift.

Mathew, who was rather preoccupied digging in his breakfast platter, gets interrupted when you call his attention. 

“So tell me,” you ask as you take a forkful of syrupy pancake into your mouth. Finally satisfying your cravings. You put the food modestly in the insides of your cheeks when you ask him a question, “What are you like on dates?” 

Mat disgustingly looks at you. You easily get what such a look meant and you immediately roll your eyes. You let your hand fall in mid-air amidst still holding a fork in it to prove a point. “I’m not trying to ask you out, dumbass. Don’t be so delusional.”

He puts his silverware down and wipes his mouth with a napkin. “Why the sudden interest?” 

“Just curious.” you simply say.

He hums, thinking about how he pulls off a first date. He then clears his throat as he takes you down that road. “First, I’m not bringing her to a 24/7 Diner.” you nearly gag. “She deserves a formal one just in case there won’t be a second date.” he explains. 

You sit there, nodding your head every now and then as he further goes on the details of how he’s like on a date. “Of course, I’d put my best foot forward all the time. Talk about her stuff more than mine and make sure she has a good time.” 

“Have you ever had a bad first date?” you curiously ask. To which he only answers with a stubborn look on his face, the one only Mat Barzal could pull off. “What? me? I don’t do bad first dates.”

“Oh, fuck off.” you flick his forehead as you laugh. The sound of his laughter echoing in your ears, drowning all the existing noise inside the lone diner.

But as the laughter dies down, Mat catches your eyes as soon as it falls on his. And just like that, there it was again, the exact same glint it had back in the bar. This time, illuminated by the pink shaded light lining up the wall accents of the diner. 

When he realizes that he’s been staring for too long, he settles on turning the tables on you. 

“How about you?” he props in his seat, “What are you like on dates?”

“You know, apart from the fact that you’re obviously into old men.” he snickers and you throw a curly fry on his forehead.

“Excuse me, I don’t.” you say sticking up for yourself.

Mat takes the curly fry that has fallen on his plate and proceeds to eat it. “Sure you do.” 

You roll your eyes, finding it hard to suppress the fact that you might actually do. “There’s a reason why women like old men, chico.”

He leans back and answers with a level headed and quite teasing reply, “And why’s that?”

“Because they’re men.” you look at him with a jerky grin as you continue, “And men, especially of River’s kind, definitely knows how to eat his french fry.”

Mat’s mouth falls wide in disbelief, appalled that you’ve actually found a way to pick up a stone and throw it straight to his face just to rub more salt on the fact that you had to teach a 23-year-old grown man how to eat cunt.

 “You’re an ass.” he says, rolling his eyes. You let out a laugh and shake your head. You were proud of yourself, sure; but showing just that is far too much for a boy’s already hurting ego. Who would have known humbling this man was such a task. 

“I’m playing! You know how to now.” you tell him, “Thanks to me, of course.”

He scoffs and takes a bite off his pancakes, “Cocky.”

“But you still haven’t answered my question.” he reminds you whilst he wipes off his lips with a napkin. 

“There’s not much to tell. You know I’m not high maintenance.” you tell him, ignoring the fact that you haven’t been on an actual date for so long you’re almost sure you’ve forgotten how to be in one. 

“I know it’s cheesy and corny but I do think it’s still in the littlest things, you know?” you sigh. Trying to remember the last relationship (date even) you had wherein those little things, the ones that are merely the bare minimum, were actually given to you. 

“You know, it’s not much, really. Maybe just a good talk without having to watch him watch me talk all night when he’s really thinking about how I’d look naked, you know what I mean?” you laugh it off, “I know, it’s stupid.”

The arrogant man sitting before you was silent for once, profusely wanting to wash the pool of melancholy he sees in your eyes. There must have been a shit ton of guys who overlooked how great of a woman you actually are just because they couldn’t stop thinking with the head in between their legs even just for a second. 

Mathew knows. And he hates that he’s been ‘that’ guy at some point. Probably until now considering him thinking with his balls on was the very thing that got the two of you here in the first place.

You take a deep breath, smiling. “Anyway, that’s better than almost getting with a married man. Right?”

“Right.” Mat laughs, his gray eyes bright under all the lights as he plays with his silverware,— devoid of how much he looked like as if he was utterly and undeniably in awe of not just the energy of the woman sitting in front of him alone nor the fact that she was by far the most unbelievable woman he’s known, but most importantly, he’s yet to realize how much in deep he’s beginning to be for the woman she actually were. 

Just as she is. 

𖥸

You left the diner a good hour before the sunrise and what must have been a quick five minute drive if you had only taken a cab, became a twenty minute foot race between you and Mathew.

You knew that walking was a bad idea but somehow, Mat’s charm and persuasive antics had a better hold than you thought you had on your very capable cognition. 

As you drag your feet into the confines of the elevator in your complex, you hear Mathew chuckling behind you with a firm hand securely placed on your waist supporting your balance. 

“You know— and not just ‘cause I’m an athlete, can I just say that you’re in a very bad shape?” he says almost a whisper in your ear, his voice low and deep.

You roll your eyes, leaning on the steel cold mirror once he pulls away, “You do it in heels then tell me who’s in a bad shape.” 

“Fair point.” he chuckles yet again, shying away. He presses the number for your floor before resting across from you. As Mat watches you catch your breath, he jokes in the hopes of breaking the ice between the two of you. 

“So…” he clicks his tongue, playful eyes looking at you, “Wanna tap?”

Disgusted to your very core, you let out a scoff just as you shake your head. “You’re fucking sick.” you laugh upon meeting his dumb grinning face. Seconds into laughter, Mat’s silence kills off the humor. The two of you exchange glances, the smiles on your faces receding into quietude. 

Mathew didn’t want to end the night letting you in the apartment not knowing what he’s been feeling the moment you’ve let him drag you out for an impromptu night out. And stupid as it was, the only thing he could think of was to slide his foot across the enclosed space embracing the two of you, nudging on your boot. You on the one hand were rather puzzled as to what caused such language. You send him a mental query by arching a brow. He lets his head fall back on the cold metal surrounding the elevator finally deciding to speak his truth.

 “I’m glad we get to hang out now. You know, just like friends do.” he genuinely says. 

“Me too.” you say, smiling. “I really had fun tonight. Thank you.”

As you meet his eyes, you see a glimmer of softness in his gaze. 

“Good thing I got bored, eh?” he says with a smirk. 

“Good thing I came back for you.” you reply.

A quiet smile parts from his lips.

“Yeah. I’m glad you did.”

It was a few seconds when you and Barzy parted from your respective walls to meet the sliding doors as it opened on your designated floor. You were pulling him closer by the tie of his coat whilst his hand was instinctively placed on your hips letting him press his body on you. Your faces were inches from each other’s, evident of not wanting to prolong the totally unplanned foreplay that’s about to go down in a communal lift. 

But just like every film you’ve watched your whole life, the inevitable cliché befalls the two of you when the next words that filled the enclosed walls you’re currently caged in came from the man who has yet to miss a morning jog. 

“What the hell is going on here?”