#AND they can literally squat my weight what the fuck imagine being so strong

[sunflowerstrawberryfemme]

my butch deadlifting and squatting more than I weigh..... 😩

Pick me up and hold me against the wall why don't you

[justboredtingz]

Kuroo????

yoooooooo NOT gonna lie this was written in like 5-10 minutes straight off the noggin it’s just something to post and get my mind off of all of my school work it’s smut btw bye

If someone were to hear you, they’d think that you and Kuroo were only splashing and playing around in the pool like some little kids. They wouldn’t be completely wrong, except for the fact that what was happening wasn’t something that kids should be doing.

“oh fuck!-” you moaned, the cold concrete of the pool deck nipping at your skin. Kuroo had threw a party at his place to celebrate your acceptance into your dream job. He didn’t expect you to come out in a swimsuit that left literally nothing to the imagination. Throughout the entire celebration, he wasn’t able to keep his eyes off of you. The way your hips swayed or how the water from the pool would drip down between your breasts. He was surprised he lasted so long.

Once everybody left, he didn’t even bother to go in the bedroom, let alone the house. 

“I’ve been waiting all day for this, kitten~ Be a good girl and take every inch...”

He had a firm grip on your hip with one of his hands while the other pressed into your back, forcing an arch. Your hips were at an angle to where it felt like he was fucking down into you. The weight behind his hand made it feel like you were being slightly suffocated, which only made you even more aroused. 

“k- ur- oo-o~” the power in his thrusts caused your moan to come out broken. He reached so deep into you, It felt like the tip of his dick was poking at your womb.

Grabbing your hair, he pulled your back into his chest to mumble in your ear, “ I’m gonna fuck you so good you won’t know anything other than my name~”

“please!-”

“Come on, kitten, is that the best you can do? maybe I’m not fucking you hard enough,” Before you could even process his words, he pulled completely out before picking you up and putting you on your back against the wet pavement. Pushing your legs to the point your knees were beside your head, he slid himself back inside, sitting in a squatting position above you. 

You literally felt every inch, every ridge. If you didn’t know any better, you’d say he was literally trying to fuck your throat through your pussy. He was fucking you like this would be his last chance.

In a sing song voice, he teased, “ I feel you sucking me in, it looks like someone’s about to cum~”

it was true. It felt like at any moment you could bust; the build up was so strong you KNEW you wouldn’t be able to recover from this. 

He picked up his pace, trying to force your orgasm out of you,  “Give it all to me kitten, I want every drop. you can do it..” The huskiness in his voice, the way he spoke to you, definitely made it easy to give him what he wanted.

With one hand placed firmly beside your head for leverage, Kuroo wrapped the other around your throat, causing you to burst. Your vision went white, you legs began to shake, and you felt yourself squirt all over the man above you. 

Even though your legs were shaking, he continued his onslaught. 

“I’m not done just yet, baby, hold on for me okay? Can you give me one more?” You weren’t sure if he said something to you, but you just continued to nod. You pulled him down by his neck with both arms and touched his forehead with yours. The pool water from his hair dripped down your face, but you could care less.

“Fuck.. you’re squeezing me so tight..” His voice was audibly strained; he wanted you to cum one more time before he did.

Kuroo brought his hand down to rub rough circles against your clit, making your body quiver from the over-stimulation.

“oh god!-”  you choked out. You felt as if all the hard work you put into your life paid off with this moment. This is what you deserved, to be loved and fucked by a god walking among humans. None of It only took seconds for the white light to come back, yet it was 10x more intense as before. After that, you weren’t sure what happened next. Your mind was fuzzy with pleasure and the next thing you knew you were cuddled up into Kuroo’s chest at the edge of the pool.

He pushed all of the wet strands stuck to your face out the way before placing a soft kiss to your forehead, “Are you okay? I kind of went overboard..”

You couldn’t help but let out a tired laugh,” I couldn’t be better.” 

[hearthandhomemagick]

Cottage Witch Journal Entry

Good Afternoon, Everyone!

It is chilly outside, and my nose has been red since the wind hit it. A warm air is wafting over my body like a blanket in my cozy little office, making me feel comfortable. My mind is filled with daydreams and thoughts of what is right and what is wrong. My center seems to be no where in sight, and yet I am calm. 

I want to tell you all how my journey has been so far since my last journal entry. 

Just to recap, I set some goals for myself last time. I wanted to be more aware of my eating habits, forming a work out routine to do everyday, and learn to do a split by the end of the month. These three goals are small, and have almost no real direction or layout for how they were to be conducted.

And yet, it worked. At least a little bit!

You see, I’m training my mind right now to see tracking my eating as a fun habit. I have a theory that I overthink my weight a lot of the time and completely miss the point of weight loss in general. I still get to this state of mind where if I feel as though I should feel bad for feeding myself. And this can be induced by small things people say around me. With my mind using hyperbole to hype up what they are saying, it convinces me that my eating habits are the reason they feel the way they do.

I never used to be a jealous girlfriend, I never used to be insecure, lithe in personality or even submissive. I used to be extremely dominant, defensive, independent and confident with my steps. Hell, I joined singing competitions because in my head, I knew I’d do great. But now, I bail on musical rehearsals simply because my energy isn’t right. And after last nights episode, I fucking guess I get jealous of video games now, too! Fucking stupid.

So imagine, I’ve been on this awareness journey with my eating habits. This goal being the main one I wanted to focus on this month, and have sufficiently lost a couple of pounds simply from changing the way I eat. With that being said, I’ve still felt ill about myself. So, while my boyfriend was playing Cyberpunk 2077 last night, he mentioned he loved and wanted to marry Judy because, “She’s a version of his High School self.” (as seen above. A bad bitch tech wizard who is literally the definition of independence).

Judy is a bad bitch, I’d marry her too!!! I love how sure of herself she is and how she wants a revolution. But, for some reason, this comment didn’t settle with me correctly. Regardless of my mental efforts, an actual war was going on in my head. Negative thoughts popped up about how tiny and lithe she was in stature, while being confident, distant and strong in nature, while I was a big girl who was shy, quiet and submissive/passive. I was comparing myself to a game....a game character I related to, for that matter?! I had just taken a bite of food when he said he loved her, but I stopped chewing all together the moment he said it.

The food sat in my mouth for what felt like hours as I contemplated whether it would be acceptable to just spit it in the trash, but my grandmother who lives 45 minutes out of town drove it to me because she knew it was my favorite...smoked salmon. The thoughts running through my head included, “If you don’t eat this bite, you could get skinny like Judy faster.” & “Spit it out, pig, he’s trying to tell you something.” I ended up spitting it in the trash after thirty minutes of holding it between my gums and cheek and hating on myself.

Thankfully, I STILL HAVE SALMON LEFT OVER AND WILL NEVER QUESTION WHETHER TO EAT THAT BITE OR NOT EVER AGAIN!!!! Rationalizing myself in the moment, though, was almost impossible. My boyfriend didn’t notice much because I was simply staring quietly at the TV, his voice coming in and out every once in a while followed by my curt response. 

Now, this is not his fault. Him and I had a discussion a while ago regarding this and I openly said it was okay for him to talk like that in front of me about other women. I’m a feminist and love seeing women do awesome and bad ass things. I also love talking about bad ass women! He had my consent, and knows nothing of what is going on in my mind right now, so genuinely this is not a him problem.

This is a me problem. This is a me problem I have had for a very long time regarding my body issues, my mental health and my willingness to be open about it. Which I’m not. I never tell people what’s going on because not everyone is a therapist, which is what I need and cannot afford. It’s easier to not say something.

So going back to Judy. After my moment of absolute self hatred, my boyfriend mentioned something to me that seemed to pull me out of this waterfall of feelings and thoughts. He started talking to me about things we were wanting to do together. 

I realized that he wasn’t thinking as hard as I was about Judy. He simply loves and enjoys the character and the interactions he has with the character. That type of woman is the type he admires. But she’s a made up fictional character. That’s when the thought hit me, “He calls you a bad bitch all the time. You guys mirrored each other quite a bit in High School. You were independent before him. Carly, you’ve started depending on an approval he doesn’t realize you are expecting. And that’s something you should be expecting from yourself.”

I put weight in the words of a man who thought his sentence was light as a feather. Things started clicking and I couldn’t help the giggle that escaped my mouth. I had just spit food out over a situation I had created in my head. I would be Judy today if I were in a post-apocalyptic world, had I not put so much weight into depending on others for things, I would probably be Judy in todays Rona Revolution! The point is, Judy is a set of characteristics dressed up and made pretty for the success of a video game. No one is exactly like her because she isn’t real. 

But I am. And personality is a choice. No, I won’t change myself, but I want to be more myself. I want to be the me uninfluenced by others opinions of me. I want to be the me that can alternate from being prissy to being tomboy. So, I want to make a list of things that make me truly happy. I want to lay out the part of me that I love, and I want to strive to accomplish more of the things I love. 

1. Fixing my own car. I was told in High School that shop class was a boys class. It was my first option as a recreational hour, and they decided to put me in something else. I slowly lost interest in vehicles as a whole and pushed it to the side, depending on everyone else to fix my car for me. This is bullshit, and I want to fix my own fucking car from now on. It won’t get done otherwise. 

2. MMA Fighting/Boxing. Like my piano career, this dream stopped once my teacher stopped showing up. I want to defend myself and be physically strong, I also want to say I went through something rigorous without giving up. I want this for me, myself and I. I’m tired of calling people in parking lots at night when I’m scared. 

3. Yoga. I brought this up in my last post, I bring it up again because this a priority of mine that goes unnoticed frequently. I need this physical practice for my mental health, I always feel happier and healthier when I can do yoga, so there’s no excuse for me to NOT invest in this.

4. Independence. I don’t need anyone, who is in my life is here because I want them here. I don’t need anyone to make money for me, I’ll work. I don’t need anyone to tell me I’m beautiful, I know. I don’t need people telling me what to wear, it’s my choice. I want to be myself again, not everyone else collectively. 

5. Music/Art. This is a part of my soul that heals with the hit of the play button. It should have never stopped being at the forefront of my life.

6. Reading and Writing. I don’t give myself time to do this, yet I have plenty of time to do everything. I don’t know what I’m waiting for, but boredom ain’t it sis! This is how I process my thoughts and organize my mind, so it should be imperative.

7. Self-Love Rituals. I want to start putting effort into rituals that mean something to me and my craft. This includes bath rituals, cooking or baking rituals, or even smoke rituals. Either way, it’s a portion of my craft I neglect, and shouldn’t.

8. Go places by myself and face my anxiety. I always shoved my anxiety to the side and trained my brain to replace it with excitement. It worked for a long time, and then I lost my confidence and Independence. I need to focus on myself to accomplish this one. But I shouldn’t be nervous or scared going into public to get shit I want or need. Period. No one is focusing on me, so why should I focus on them? 

9. Sing in my car. I was recorded while singing passionately in my car twice this year. My anxious mind claimed they were making fun of me, and one was indeed laughing at me. BUT FUCK IT. Who cares if they record me or make fun of me or not? Why am I stopping my happiness because you think it’s funny? Fuck that, I’m too bad of a bitch to be worried about people who waste their time in that manner. I’ll give them a show next time. I refuse to be the victim anymore to anyone, including myself.

There is nothing stopping me except myself from pursuing the things in life that make me happy. Being aware of my own state of mind helped me realize this. And typing this out has helped me truly start the process of change for the better. 

As for my actual monthly goals; they are still in tact! Again, making myself aware of my eating has forced me to be mindful of the things I put into my body, including drinks. As a result of better habits forming, I’ve dropped a few pounds. Losing weight is not the goal, but the result of accomplishing my goal. As for exercise, I have started small by working on my legs and glutes. I have been doing up to 20 Jump Squats every day or every other day. This, of course, isn’t a routine, but it is progress from where I was doing nothing. As a result, my booty and thighs have been looking good and my number of squats has been going up! I haven’t created anything yoga wise yet, but anticipate on forming something sustainable once I have gotten into the habit of my squats. Saving $100 was not the best goal to set for the month of December (not the wisest move of a notorious over spender on gifts) BUT I still want this to happen, so! Rather than worrying about saving $100, I will focus on making sure I survive this month without over drafting. I already have and am in the negatives by 80 something dollars, but for the rest of the month, and into next year, I will shut down my checking account with that bank, keep my savings, and start using that as my emergency debit card. 

I’m doing better. I’m noticing progress. It’s small, but worth the tiniest amount of effort. I still struggle, and I will in the future, but right now I’m doing well. I will continue this journey with pride. 

I also want to learn more in regards to shadow work, and incorporating my craft into my workout routines, so if any of you actually reads this and has any ideas, let me know! Being healthy is the main goal!!!!! 

I appreciate those who read this or support it or even relate to it a bit. My last entry received a nasty comment, explaining how I was a basic bitch who needed to be educated and needed to stay out of the thinspo tag. For anyone who feels compelled to do that, just know you are much more emotionally invested in it than I am at that point. I simply don’t give 1, 2 or even 3 types of fucks about it. I’m doing this for me, if you follow then thank you, but if not then thank you for kindly leaving me alone.

I want to be me. Me alone, me without help, me with me. I still want to be with my boyfriend, and I know I have his support here, but this is my battle and I can’t rely on him to fix me or make me feel like me again. I am responsible for myself.

I’m doing better, and will continue to do so! Just let me know you guys’ thoughts, ideas or even experiences you may have went/are going through like this. I appreciate you all!

[vortexofentertainment]

How about a spider Beca bechloe fic?

This was SUPER fun to write! Thank you for the prompt :)

———

“I’m a little…” Beca spun and kicked the masked man in the chest. “…busy right now…” She grabbed one of the other men by the wrist and swung him around with all her might. “…Stacie.” The man collided with two others, sending them tumbling to the ground.

“I’m aware of that, but I just need to know if you can get some milk on your way home,” Stacie said. Sometimes Beca got really tired of her best friend always being in her ear. It wasn’t exactly ideal during these types of situations.

“Fine, yes, whatever,” Beca answered. 

She jumped, extended her arms, and shot her web to pull herself up just in time to avoid a trashcan hurtling towards her. 

“Now, tell me where the control room is.” 

She caught the trashcan with her webs before it hit the ground and tossed it back at the unexpected attacker. It smacked him in the face, knocking him unconscious.

Beca fell back to the floor, landing in a low squat with one hand on the ground. 

“It’s in the basement. Once you step out of the elevator shaft, it’ll be the third door to your right,” Stacie told her. “What about almond milk?”

“No fucking way,” Beca replied. 

“Oh, come on, Beca,” Stacie protested. “You’ve never even tried it.”

“I would like to keep it that way, thank you very much. There is nothing wrong with regular milk.” 

“Tell that to the cows,” Stacie mumbled. 

Beca ignored her best friend and jogged to the elevators. She really, really hated that she was ‘SpiderWoman’ as the media dubbed her. Before she became this ‘hero’, she was rarely physically active. It just wasn’t up her alley. Cardio was never high on her ‘to do’ list. 

She hit the button to the elevator, but nothing happened. She rolled her eyes and jammed it five or six more times. 

“Did you really think that was going to work?”

“A girl can dream.” Beca mumbled. She took a deep breath and shook her arms out beside her. “Here we go.”

She placed her fingers between the doors of the elevator and pulled as hard as she could. The door opened just enough for her to wedge her foot in the crack. She held it open there while she took a breath.

“Stace, do you think you could maybe modify a crowbar in the suit somehow?”

“Or you could just start going to the gym with me like I’ve been asking you to and maybe this wouldn’t be such a challenge.”

“Fuck off,” Beca grunted as she started to pull again. 

She managed to wedge her body through the door and into the elevator shaft. She jumped, sticking to the opposite wall as the doors slammed shut again.

“Ha! See? I’m strong.”

“No, you’re just tiny,” Stacie shot back. 

Beca started to crawl down the wall. It was still surreal that she could do something like this. 

“Do you have eyes in the control room?” 

“Yes, the idiots didn’t turn off the security cameras,” Stacie answered. Beca could practically hear her roll her eyes. “Looks like they have three hostages. Three girls. Two blondes and a redhead.” 

“Wait, a redhead?” Beca asked, flashing back to the reporter that had bugged the shit out of her after one of her saves last week, and multiple other missions before that. 

Beca just wanted to leave after taking down the scientist that thought he could turn your everyday appliances into androids. Turns out he just ended up making a lot of explosives. But the reported grabbed her after she had managed to wrap one of the explosives enough to muffle the blow. It wasn’t her hardest mission, but maybe one of the most annoying.

When she got the call from Stacie, she was listening to a popular DJ at a very exclusive club. She tried to weasel her way out of it, as she did with many of her missions, but as always she failed to do so. The better part of her won and she always ended up pulling on that stupid mask and risking her life for people that wouldn’t give her a second look without her SpiderWoman get up. 

The reporter, though inconvenient and pushy, seemed genuinely interested. She had asked personal questions. Well, besides the usual “Who are you?” She wanted to know why Beca did what she did, what it took to do so, and how it affected her everyday life. 

“The very same one,” Stacie answered. “Are you going to get her number this time?”

“Why would I do that?” Beca asked as she perched outside of the next set of doors she had to force her way through. 

She remembered mentioning, without realizing, that the redhead was cute. Anyone with eyes could see that. Her blue eyes were so beautiful and mesmerizing that Beca found herself literally dreaming about them looking back at her. The reporter had definitely caught Beca’s eye.

She shook her head slightly and tried to focus. She grabbed the doors once more and pulled.

“Because you have a crush on her,” Stacie pointed out. 

“Can we talk about this…” Beca grunted as she wedged herself between the small opening she had created. She turned quickly, pressing her back against one door as she put her feet up on the other. “…when I’m not about to be crushed?” 

“Okay, that’s fair, but don’t think you’re getting out of this.”

Beca straightened her body with all her might, causing the doors to open all the way this time. She relaxed a bit and fell to the ground with a thug.

“Got it,” she exhaled as she pushed herself up. “Second door to the right?”

“Third. Do you ever listen?”

Beca didn’t respond. She looked around to make sure there weren’t any more guards waiting for her. 

She noticed only two outside the door. Both were sitting in chairs, heads tilted to the side, clearly asleep. 

“These guys are truly idiots, aren’t they?” Beca whispered as she jumped and shot her webs towards the ceiling. 

“They’re not the brightest.”

She crawled slowly and quietly towards the still asleep guards. Once she was positioned over them, she shot her webs down to encircle the one on the right. She pulled up, making the man fly out of his chair. She stuck him to the ceiling, shooting another web over his mouth before he could even scream. 

She put a finger over her lips to signal for him to be quiet as she did the same to the other guy. Now, they were both struggling against her trap to no avail, shouting curses that were muffled by the web. 

“How many guys are inside?” she asked Stacie as crawled down onto the wall until she was perched just above the door.

“Four,” Stacie answered. “They’re all armed.”

“Great,” Beca mumbled. “Is there another way in?” 

“Afraid the front door is your only option, captain.” 

Beca took a deep breath. She really hated the fact that the reporter, or the other two hostages, could easily be hurt in all of this.

“Where exactly are the civilians?”

“Is that what we’re calling her now?”

“Stacie,” Beca warned. 

“They’re in the back left corner,” Stacie told her. “Looks like red is up to something, so you might want to hurry.”

“Fucking red,” Beca mumbled as she reached down and knocked on the door. 

She heard Stacie laugh. “You should see their faces right now! Oh my god, they’re so confused.”

Beca reached down and knocked again.

Finally, the door creaked open. She watched one of the masked men poked his head out and then stepped outside of the room to see who had knocked. He looked down the empty hallway.

Beca did a high then low whistle to get his attention. He slowly looked up. Beca loved the terrified look some of the bad guys gave her.

“Hi there,” she said before pouncing fist first towards his face. 

She felt the impact that more than likely broke his jaw as he fell to the ground unconscious. She shot webs out of each wrist back towards the ceiling to swing herself into the room. She extended both legs to kick two of the other guards in the chest and back into the control panel. Sparks flew everywhere. Beca couldn’t imagine the shock those two had just received. 

“Don’t move!” the fourth and last guy yelled as Beca landed in a crouch. 

The man was holding the reporter by the arm with a gun to her head. She looked terrified. Those blue orbs that Beca dreamed about were looking to her for any kind of help. 

Beca slowly stood, holding both hands up in surrender. 

“You don’t want to do that, big guy,” Beca said as she shifted her weight slowly. 

“Beca, I don’t think the gun is even loaded,” Stacie said quietly in her ear. “He was about to reload it when you knocked. There might be one in the chamber, though.”

Beca kept her stare glued onto the girl’s eyes. She tried to stay calm, but those eyes had her heart racing. She couldn’t mess this up. 

“If you take one step I will blow her brains out,” the man growled at Beca. 

“You have my word. Not another step,” she said smoothly. 

She shifted her gaze to the man. She watched as he looked around and then down at the other two hostages. 

Before she had time to second guess herself, she flung her wrist forward. One web wrapped around the gun and the other clung onto the man’s face.

She yanked the gun away from the man and into her own clutches as he stumbled back.

The reporter turned quickly once he released her and landed a knockout blow to the guy’s nose. He doubled forward in pain. Beca watched as the report brought her knee up, hard, connecting to the man’s face once again. 

The force brought his feet off the ground. Beca took the chance to shoot more of her webs towards him. They wrapped around his feet and she flung him across the room. He hit the other wall with so much force that it dented in as he crumbled to the ground.

“Nice,” Stacie chuckled. “I’ve notified the police that the problem is handled.”

“The building is clear,” Beca said to the women. She dropped the gun to the ground. “It’s safe to leave. The police are outside sweeping the area. The elevator is broken though. You’ll have to use the steps.”

The two girls still on the floor got up and ran out. 

Beca looked back at the redhead who hadn’t moved.

“I don’t think I caught your name last time,” she said.

The girl smirked and arched an eyebrow. “Chloe.”

“Well, Chloe, you seem to find yourself in the midst of a lot of trouble.”

“You’re one to talk,” Chloe answered as she took a step closer to Beca.

“Touché,” Beca smirked, even though Chloe couldn’t see it. She was still moving closer. 

“Ask her for coffee, you baffoon,” Stacie hissed.

Beca hesitated. There was definitely an… attraction to the reporter. She wasn’t sure, however, that it was safe to reveal her true identity. No matter how magnetic the girl’s smile was. 

“I have a theory,” the redhead said as she finally stopped moving towards Beca. They were just a couple of steps apart now.

“About?”

“Who you really are.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah,” Chloe took a half step closer. “See, I was at this club last week with a friend from college.”

Beca’s heart plummeted. 

“And I had my eye on this cute brunette that was just really enjoying the music.” Chloe took another half step closer. The crooked grin on her face set Beca’s cheeks on fire beneath her mask. “She was wearing a leather vest over a grey t-shirt and these really tight skinny jeans. I was just about to make my move on her when she got a phone call.”

“What does this have to do with me?” Beca managed to get out. The crack in her voice definitely gave her away.

“Real smooth,” Stacie mumbled.  

“About ten minutes after she left, I got a call to go and cover a story about you. Remember that?”

“The explosive dude that was just a really bad scientist.”

“That’s the one. But, I noticed something.” Chloe reached up and captured Beca’s chin between her pointer finger and thumb. “One, your voice is very similar, and two, when you left the scene last week I heard you humming the same song that was playing when you got the call at the club.”

Beca was frozen. Every part of her was itching to reach out and grab Chloe. Her fingers twitched by her side.

“That’s a… um… interesting theory,” Beca struggled to say. 

“I’m very rarely wrong. It’s kind of what I do for a living,” Chloe told her as she released Beca’s chin. “So, am I right?”

“Off the record?” Beca asked as she searched those blue orbs. She didn’t want to fall prey to just another hungry reporter desperate for a story.

“Completely off the record,” Chloe answered with a nod. 

“Why don’t you show up at the coffee shop tomorrow at noon to find out?” Beca asked. “The one by campus,” she specified as she backed out of the room. 

“It’s a date!” she heard Chloe yell after her as she sprinted down the hallway and back into the empty elevator shaft. 

[brownjet-archive]

midnight dances + ticket stubs

pairing: peter parker x reader (poc and strongly hinted that is latina)

wc: 8000+

summary: an interrupted moment seems to be more nuclear than you or peter could have imagined. 

warnings: angst, some language, some heavy making out at the end but no smut, mentions of sex

a/n: so, it’s literally taken me a year to write this, i started this at the end of my last school year and a lot of shit happened since then so i finally got around to writing it, and holy shit it’s the longest one shot i’ve ever written

takes place after homecoming and is canon divergent !!

You were immensely regretting your decision to come to school on the last day. There was nothing to do, and hardly anyone in school. All the teachers seemed to have rolled their eyes, probably annoyed that 20 something students of the 2300 student body had shown up. Honestly, the only reason you had come was because Peter, Ned, and MJ said they would.

There was absolutely nothing to do. You had already emptied your locker, a few weeks ago because you were so done with school, and so had they, and you shifted from lounging in the library, running through the hallways and chilling in Mr. Harrington’s room.

You sitting in the library on one of the comfortable and plushy chairs, your legs draped over MJ’s lap, resting one elbow on the back of the bench, resting your face in the palm of your head, as the four of you lounged, contently listening to nostalgic music from the 2000′s, and suddenly you felt old.

The three of you laughed at the mortified look on Peter’s face, his face going red as a tomato, as the next song on his spotify played, as the familiar tune of the High School Musical number began. Despite laughing, you began singing along softly, ignoring the MJ’s snort.

“Not to be fake, but we’re soaring. flying. there’s not a star in heaven that we can’t reach.” You said, singing along with the track, laughing as you were singing.

Your energy was infectious, because by the end of the song, rather than just you singing softly under your breath, you had all joined in and were practically belting what was practically the anthem of your childhood. You had never really thought about it before, but it was pretty fucking awesome that the biggest couple growing up had been an interracial couple.

Before the song had ended, MJ had swiped Peter’s phone, now dubbing you in charge of the music, a smug smile on her face hoping that some embarrassing song played.

You rolled your eyes at her, quickly unlocking your phone, and putting on spotify, rolling your eyes as you clicked to watch the ad for the 30 minutes of uninterrupted listening, the four of you waiting in awkward silence for, the three of them waiting to make fun of your music tastes.

To your relief, your spotify seemed to be in a good mood, and decided to play, your body immediately relaxing at the soothing voice of Jason Mraz, Ned and you immediately beginning to sway to the music.

You hadn’t noticed the lovesick look on Peter’s face as he stared at you as you sang at the level that you thought was soft, your shoulders moving to the music, as it transitioned into what you had called the hispanic anthem Vivir Mi Vida.

You looked happier than you had been in months, a smile on your face, reaching your eyes. Sprawled across one of your best friends, looking truly happy. You were beautiful, really.

You slowly lowered the volume as the song died out, looking over at them, asking what the plan was, even though you guys had pretty much already decided that you would go to the corner store Mr. Delmar’s by your house, because it was the closet to Mr. Delmar’s, and you guys would buy sandwiches and ice-cream. However you would get candy and smartfood popcorn at the CVS by your school because it was cheaper, and there was a 90% chance that CVS would have them, as opposed to the 90% chance that Mr. Delmar would have run out by now.

You checked your phone, standing up, helping Ned up from the beanbag cushion he was sitting in, and all of you gathered your emptied out backpacks and even though there was still an hour and a half of school left, you decided to go say bye to Mr. Harrington for the summer, before leaving the building. You and MJ laughed at Ned who seemed to be elated with breaking the rules, though in relief you felt the same nervous and ecstatic butterflies in your stomach.

The four of you jogged across the street, waving a slight thanks at the drivers, despite the fact that a few honked at you, as you reached the CVS, walking in, immediately thankful for the air conditioning inside the building. The four of you walked towards the chips aisle with purpose, grabbing two of the big bags of the smartfood popcorn, before wandering towards the candy, grabbing a large pack of twizzlers, some sour gummy worms, a bag of skittles, a bag of the CVS brand soft caramels, a bag of marshmallows, and a packet of double stuff oreos, happy that you had nutella at home for the oreos and marshmallows, even though eating marshmallows with nutella was a pretty hard feat.

You each grabbed a can of Arizona, and headed up towards the cashier, before each of you pulled out some cash. You took your Arizona and put it in one of the cupholders of your bag, and you volunteered to carry a bag of popcorn, as did Peter.

You checked your phone, your eyes narrowed, ignoring MJ and Ned’s bickering about being able to open the twizzlers now, before you gripped at the closet limb of any of them, surprised when you accidentally groped Peter’s suprisingly strong bicep. You ignored it however, your eyes widening, as you again tugged on his bicep, yelling out, “The train is gonna be there in two minutes.”

The four of you sprinted towards the stop by the school, flipping off the drivers who honked at you, as you all rushed towards the stop, all of you but Peter, heavily panting as you ran up the stairs of the station, while at the same time fumbling to reach your wallet for your metro card, and as you reached the platform as the intercom said the train would be arriving, which typically meant about slightly less than a minute more, you squatted slightly, resting your hands on your thighs even if you did know that it was bad and constricting your lungs or whatever.

You stood up as the train pulled into the platform, grateful for the wind it provided, even if it was a rather dry one, and you were pretty sure that your body was drenched with sweat. The four of you stepped in, and because it was pretty much the middle of the day, the car was relatively empty and you all sat together, but far enough apart to rest your bags on the seats next to you, talking throughout the twenty minute train ride on which movie you guys should watch.

“No, we are not watching Star Wars again!”

“Star Trek?”

“Peter!”

“I know, I know. The Matrix.”

“MJ, no. Just no.”

“Disney?”

“Hell no.”

You all bickered for about fifteen minutes, before Ned suggested Galavant, and all of you nodded, agreeing that it would be fun to re-watch Galavant for a third time in 3 months. You all sluggishly stood up, exiting the air conditioned train, the stench of urine seeping through the air, and your face crinkled up in discomfort, even if you were used to the stenches of the city.

Peter guffawed at your expression, booping your nose, your eyes narrowing as you turned to glare at him, raising your fist rather jerkily, and his eyes widened in slight fear, before leaving it at that.

MJ hissed as you guys exited the station and walked into the sunlight, earning a weird look from you, although you had to admit that it was very bright.

“What are you, a fucking vampire?”

“Shut up.” She grumbled at you, looking as uncomfortable as you felt in the damp heat of the city. The four of you meandered towards the small establishment that Mr. Delmar owned, opening the door, the little bell ringing signaling that you had entered. The four of you offered slight smiles, you and Ned entrusting the other two to order the correct sandwiches as you walked towards the small cooler, looking at the limited, though not bad assortment of ice-cream, settling on a pint of cookies and cream and a pint of neopolitan. You petted both petted Murph, waiting for the sandwiches to be done before bringing the ice-cream to the front to avoid unnecessary melting.

Peter gave you guys a small nod, and you grabbed the ice-cream, bringing it up to the counter, offering Mr. Delmar a small smile, conversing with him in Spanish as he rung you up.

Thanking him, the four of you exited the small corner store and began the five minute trek to your apartment.

You sighed, a soft smile on your face as you checked the time, careful not to disturb MJ and Ned, who had fallen asleep. Sighing deeply at the fact that it was already one in the morning, the ice-cream and popcorn long gone. A few spare sour gummy worms remained still in the bag, sitting on your dresser, next to your comb. You sighed, of course Peter had bailed on you again.

Ignoring you frustration, you slowly got up, the weight of your bed shifting slightly, and you paused, your body hovering inches above the bed, letting go of a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding as they both continued to sleep soundly. You wandered over to your computer, the three of you having gotten bored of re-watching Galavant at the end of season one before deciding to watch the High School Musical films. They had fallen asleep somewhere between the first and second; you really didn’t care, continuing to watch anyways because the third was your favorite. A favorite song of yours was coming up, the one where Troy and Gabriella dance on the roof in the rain, but you knew that it cut off early before continuing on later, and instead you exited the tab, opening up spotify on the web browser, moving towards the window in your room, holding onto the computer with one arm waiting for the tab to load, while opening the window with one fluid motion, a cool summer night breeze wafting through your room.

You exited the window, sitting on the fire-escape, putting on your sappy romantic playlist reserved for nights like these. Nights were the city was peaceful, in spite of the loudness. Where the only noise was the whizzing of cars. 

The nights where the city seemed calm and quiet and peaceful.

Each song seemed to make you feel more calm, your eyes gently closed, not because of the not-so-picturesque alley your fire-escape faced, but rather to keep you grounded yet free. It was an odd sensation, but it was the only sensation of pure serenity you ever felt.

At some point, rather than swaying to the music while softly humming along,  your legs dangled off the platform. The cool metal grated section leaving angry marks on your thighs, despite the fact that they didn’t hurt, forcing you to stand up, resting your body on your arms against the railings. You inhaled deeply, the waft of the city seeping through your nose, which could often be described as unpleasant, but at this point you were used to it. The soft breeze ruffled your hair, goosebumps forming on the skin of your legs, your hands making their way to the pockets of your shorts, a moment of sleepy recognition as the one of your favorite songs from High School Musical, beginning to sing Gabriella’s part softly and passionately, too immersed in your own world to notice the presence that had joined you on the fire escape.

Peter felt bad. He really did. When he left, he could see the disappointment on your face and it hurt it to see you like that. He really hadn’t meant for it to take this long, but then again that’s what was expected of him as Spider-Man.

He swore loudly as he checked his phone, the battery dead and he had absolutely no inkling as to what time it was. It was definitely late, that he knew. Standing from the top of the building he was on, he shot his webshooter, only a meter or so of webbing escaping the mechanism, as it made an deflating noise. Great, just great. He was on the opposite side of the city, but he was determined to get back to your apartment and see you again.

Sighing, he asked KAREN where he should go, being advised to take the metro. He sighed, jumping down from the relatively small building, entering the relatively abandoned subway, before glancing at the clock seeing that it was half past midnight. He fished in his pocket for his metro card, waiting the four minutes for the train, before hopping on the train. Not really to his surprise, nobody really cared, the subway was practically deserted and the few other people on the train seemed to be going towards either Comic-Con or home from their long strenuous work shift.

He had been planning on climbing into your room through the fire escape outside of your window, while you were sleeping and fall into the heap of you, Ned, and M.J. and just say that he came back a few minutes after they had fallen asleep because May needed his help with something. But of course, it was just his dumb luck that you were sitting on the fire escape, with your legs hanging off, your hair blowing gently in the dry wind. Your mouth was slightly ajar, your eyes closed, and he felt his mouth go dry. Your hair seemed to catch the moonlight, creating a halo around you, and he swore that there was something ethereal about you.

Blinking out of his stupor as a car whizzed past, looking at you quickly, noticing that you hadn’t moved. Well, this made his job a little harder. He had to instead climb to the top of the building, and took off his mask, sticking it into his backpack, which he had left at the top of the building earlier, relieved that it hadn’t vanished. As some semblance of a though of his secret identity popped into his head, he looked around, before taking off his suit and changing rapidly, before entering the apartment building through the little door at the top, accidentally having used his strength to rip off the doorknob. He felt a little bad, but didn’t really worry, using the spare key that he knew was under the doormat to let himself into the apartment, expertly making it through the foyer to your room without making a single sound.

He opened the door to your room, stifling a giggle at the way Ned and M.J. had practically fallen off the beds, the sheets and pillows on the bed precariously keeping them from falling off. He gently tossed his bag aside, landing with the others, as he took a few gummy worms which were on your dresser, making a face as he bit into one, never prepared for how sour they were. Despite that, he continued eating them, moving over towards your window, smiling at you.

The music slowly shifted into something that he recognized, not sure how he recognized it, and he was drawn to the window and defying his better judgement he quietly stepped onto the fire escape, admiring you as you swayed to the music, and as soon as you began singing, he knew instantly that it was a song from High School Musical 3, the words coming to him instantly, and for some odd reason, he envisioned the dance moves in his head.

Without realizing, he began singing Troy’s part at the first entrance, and you whipped around, confused, staring at him. Your subconscious seemed to react quicker than your brain could process, as your hand rested on his shoulder, the other gripping his hand, with his other hand wrapped around your waist. The two of you continued to sing along to the song, even knowing the dance moves despite the small amount of space there was on the small landing.

It was as if you were in a trance, unaware of the world around you, both of you immersed completely in each other, the entire wold standing still. It was just the two of you in that moment, and you giggled brightly each time he lifted you up, and in response his face would light up, a small goofy grin stretching across his lips, his brown eyes full of admiration.

You felt completely safe as he dipped you, and slowly pulled you up, your face flush with his neck in a moment of intimacy, and from then on you danced closer, singing the words softly to one another, his breath fanning over your face.

The music slowly became less important, and rather you two were caught in this moment, his hands resting on your waist, your arms wrapped loosely around his neck, instinctively running through the soft hair at the nape of his neck, a slight shiver running through his body at the feeling of your hands in his hair.

It felt like his insides had turned to mush, and he wasn’t sure that he was actually standing, or rather that he was actually awake. He smiled at you, his warm brown eyes full of admiration, making your skin tingle slightly, as you licked your lips slightly, the both of you still swaying to the soothing voice of Elvis, before you both eventually stopped swaying altogether, staring into each other’s eyes, because for this moment it was only the two of you.

You hadn’t noticed that the song had tapered off without another one following, despite the fact that there were at least five more songs on the playlist, completely unaware of the fact that your laptop had just died, because the only thing you were aware of was Peter.

His soft hair, his soft eyes, his small crooked smile, his big ears, his small dimples, everything about him. You were completely aware of him, feeling so utterly and helplessly enamored with him.

He felt as if his heart was going to burst. Here you were, in his arms, so close to him that he was sure you could hear how loud his heart was beating. You looked so beautiful with your hair catching the moonlight and the way your eyes shined brightly, which slowly seemed to be closing as your face got closer to his.

His eyes started to droop slowly as his face moved closer to yours. You licked your lips out of habit, the spell of calm and excited intimacy still palpable in the air, as your faces seemed to get closer together, his breath fanning over your face, feeling the ghost of his lips on your own.

And like that the spell was broken.

A loud snore emitted from someone from inside the room, startling both you and Peter, and you nearly jumped out of your skin, the both of you suddenly aware of your position.

His hands immediately left your waist, as if somehow your touch had burned him, an uncomfortable sensation of pain filling your chest. Your face immediately fell, and he instantly regretted his movement, glad when your turned away from him, as he rubbed his face in frustration, feeling the urge to scream.

You let out a shaky exhale before entering your room, not looking back at Peter, who had climbed in after you, closing the window behind him, lying down between MJ and Ned, while you tried to keep yourself as far away from him as possible, the both of you lying silently in the darkness for the rest of the night.

You had been avoiding Peter for days. That technically wasn’t so long, especially with school ending so there was no reason to see him everyday, but prior to the incident you had made plans as a group to hang out. That technically wasn’t so long, but as day five of not even texting Peter, you felt an ache, a pain in your chest at not being able to see him.

You hadn’t even texted the group chat, only sending an individual text to MJ saying that you had come down with a bug that your brother had given to you. It was true, to an extent, but it hadn’t taken you out of commission for five days; it had barely done so for five hours. But, it was enough for MJ to pass the message along, and you hadn’t been bothered for the remainder of the week, as you tried to do anything that would stop your brain from overanalysing the would-be kiss you had with Peter. 

Besides, there was no way that it could’ve possibly happened, because why on earth would Peter kiss you? Why would he ever like you back? And, if it almost happened, what caused his momentary lapse in judgement?

Whatever. Shut up.

There was no point to speak to yourself in that way, because you desperately knew that that wasn’t true. It wasn’t that you couldn’t believe Peter wouldn’t want to kiss you, because frankly you were awesome and if it was a momentary lapse in judgement then it was proof that Peter Parker was a fake-ass bitch who didn’t deserve your friendship.

Even pretending to be mad at him was exhausting. It left you feeling hollow, no matter how much you willed yourself to believe that it wasn’t just you who had wanted that kiss, because of the stupid voice in your head saying that if he had wanted to kiss you as much as you wanted to kiss him, that it would have happened, interruption or not. 

You felt a wave of nausea wash over you, tears prickling at your eyes as a chocked sob escaped your throat, feeling the descent into despair all over again. You desperately wanted to screech out, your hands cover your face in frustration; annoyed with how you couldn’t even talk to MJ about this because she wouldn’t be understanding of it, and you didn’t want to force her to take sides, annoyed with how affected you were by this, and by how much your stupid brain was causing you to feel so shitty. 

You closed your eyes, burning still from the amount of tears that you had shed during the week, and carefully breathed in through your nose, before letting out a slow and shaky exhale through your mouth, feeling your heart rate lowering, resulting in feeling more grounded. You laid there for a few more minutes, taking slow breaths, your breathing becoming less shaky, and the wet trails on your cheeks beginning to dry, leaving the skin on your face feeling tight and cooler than you had felt before. You took a deep breath, before sitting up.

You caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror and grimaced. Your hair was disheveled, your skin looking ashen, and dark circles under your eyes very pronounced, with slightly puffy eyes. Thankfully, you truly did look sick, so your parents wouldn’t call you out on your bullshit. You looked away, and sighed in frustration, before opening the window slightly to let the room air out, and then left your room to go to the kitchen in search of food. 

Peter felt like shit. He hadn’t seen you in nearly a week and felt so fucking horrible. He knew you, and your penchant for overthinking things, and the image of your fallen face when the moment had been broke; the look on your face falling being immediately replaced by one of surprise, disappointment, and worst of all, expectance, made him feel like shit. 

He had been pacing the ceiling of his room explaining to a confused and a not-quite understanding Ned, who was watching him pace back and forth for the past forty minutes. It wasn’t that Ned wasn’t understanding, because he was, he just wasn’t understanding the situation.

“Wait, so what?” Ned asked again, maybe for the third time, the question beginning to grate on Peter’s nerves. “You were dancing on the fire-escape, almost kissed, you guys didn’t because MJ or I snored? That’s ridiculous Peter, you know I don’t snore.” He continued.

“Are you really that caught up in the semantics of it? Besides, dude, you snore so loudly.” Peter argued, rolling his eyes slightly.

“No I don’t, because I use...”

“Vicks, yeah.” Peter cut him off, slightly annoyed. “What is it about vicks that you, MJ, and (y/n) swear by?”

“It’s a person of color thing.” Ned replied nonchalantly, not focusing on Peter’s crisis anymore, continuing to work on the hogwarts lego set that had been abandoned since Peter had started having his rant. “I really don’t get it, didn’t you want to kiss (y/n)?”

“More than anything.” Peter whined out, his heart aching, wishing that he hadn’t chickened out, and had just kissed you.

“Then, ask her out!” Ned loved you and Peter to death, but it was becoming increasingly annoying how much you both tiptowed around your feelings for one another.

“It’s not that simple.” Peter tried to argue.

“Sure it is, gimme your phone.” 

“What, why? What are you going to do?” Peter asked, reluctantly tossing his phone over to Ned.

“Just relax, I’m not gonna send it.” Ned said, waving off Peter’s worry, Peter settling over the rail of his bunk, looking down and over Ned’s shoulder at his opened instagram. 

“You follow the Spider-Man official page?” Ned asked, looking over at Peter with a look of confusion.

Peter felt his ears heat up, a blush dusting over his cheeks. “Yeah...”He mumbled, trailing off. “They do a really good job though!” He said indignantly, feeling the need to defend himself.

“Don’t you run it?” Ned asked, a look of amused confusion spreading across his face, remembering something similar that Peter had mentioned.

“Um, no, my aunt does. I run the Thor official page.” He admitted quietly, causing Ned to snort before laughing completely.

“May runs the Spider-Man page?” Ned asked through laughs, trying to get clarification. “That’s adorable, she supports you, man.” He tried to be serious, he really did, but he couldn’t keep himself from grinning.

“Shut up, didn’t you have a point to steal my phone?” Peter pouted, before immediately regretting it, seeing Ned’s eyes flash open in remembrance.

“Oh yeah, we’s gonna get you a date.” Ned said happily, moving his finger over to your name, before cringing. “I don’t know why I said it like that.”

“Dude I don’t even know why you say half of the things you say, because you say lots of stuff like that.”

“What? No, I don’t.”

“Yes you do.”

“Should I change the way I speak?” Ned asked, looking over at Peter as if his whole life was a lie.

“No dude, it’s fine. I was joking, I love the way you speak.” Peter reassured his best friend, feeling bad that he had led Ned to believe that he spoke in a weird way.

“It’s fine Peter, I was just playing.” He chuckled good-naturedly, a warm smile on his face.

His eyes widened again, the whole conversation having been derailed yet again. Peter groaned internally as Ned remembered, hoping that he would’ve derailed the conversation enough for Ned to not remember.

“Relax dude, I’m not gonna send it.” He said to a squirming Peter, as he typed out the text. Peter felt slightly relieved, letting out a gentle sigh, and closing his eyes briefly, waiting for Ned to finish.

“Okay so, here’s what I wrote, and don’t worry I haven’t sent it.” Ned reassured Peter, who’s eyes opened and focused on the phone screen in front of them both, letting Ned read it aloud, not comfortable to read the whole thing upside down and not wanting to sit down.

“You wanna go see Yesterday tomorrow at 6:15?” Ned read aloud.

Peter had been expecting more, and looked at him with a face of confusion. “That’s it?”

“That’s it, I mean that way it’s not really a date. It’s just you guys hanging out, so that there’s no outright way that you’re being rejected.” Ned explained. “Dude, you’re overthinking it.” He sighed, trying to reassure Peter, the anxious look on his face giving all of his emotions away. 

“It’s a really good think Spider-Man has a mask that covers his whole face, because dude you can’t emote secretly.”

“Dude.” 

Ned rolled his eyes at the look of mock offense written on Peter’s face. “So, when are you gonna send it?” 

“Um, never.”

“No, you are. You’ve got nothing to lose. Seriously dude, on the list of high stake things that you face, this is such a low stake.” Ned said, trying to cajole and relax Peter.

“Except if she says no, that means she hates me.”

“That’s a reach. If she says no it’s probably because she’s still sick. MJ hasn’t let you know anything differently, right?” 

“I don’t know, she hasn’t been in the group chat for days. The last text I got from her was a pigeon on the subway in despair.”

“Makes sense.” Ned said, nodding his head as the image popped into his mind. “Well, anyways dude, just send it. Are we still gonna make mac and cheese?” 

“Yeah, Aunt May should be home soon with the stuff for it.” As soon as he said that, the clanging of the keys in the door sounded, and the door to the apartment could be heard opening. 

“Boys, please come help put the groceries away!” May called out from the kitchen.

“Sure thing!” Ned called out.

“Need a minute.” Peter called out at the same time. He stood on solid ground for the first time in an hour, blood rushing to his head leaving him feeling slightly lightheaded. Now alone in his room, he glanced over at his phone, closed his eyes and took a deep breath before hitting send.

He then slipped his phone into his pocket and left to go help his Aunt and his best friend put away the groceries.

You were slightly startled as your phone buzzed, surprised that it wasn’t on silent. You continued chewing your spoonful of cereal, glancing over at the screen seeing the stupid icon of the group chat: peter with the big lips snapchat filter yelling at a fire hydrant. Having felt more stable after watching three episodes of Stranger Things, you reached over for the remote and paused.

You opened up your phone and clicked on the notification, taking you to the group chat. You skimmed the text from him, before sending back a simple “sure, i’m down” before unpausing the episode.

Peter nearly dropped the jar of squeezable jelly an inside joke with his aunt feeling his phone vibrate in his pocket. He wish he could’ve said that he didn’t rush for his phone to check if you had texted him back, but that would have been a lie. He opened his phone in record time, reading your text quickly. He kept on rereading it, looking at his phone for nearly a minute, before May threw a kitchen towel at him, hitting him in the face. 

“I asked you to help, not look at your phone.” She teased.

It was then that Peter seemed to register your text, his eyes widening before frantically yelling at Ned, “What the hell does ‘sure i’m down’ mean?”

His nervous energy seemed infectious, and his shouting caused Ned to butterfingers the small bag of plums that May had gotten, turning to Peter with a look of annoyed confusion on his face. “Did you have to yell that at me? And, it means yes.” 

“Hm, depends on the tone.” May interjected, causing a new wave of panic to wash over Peter.

“Well, what does it mean then?” He whined.

“What’s the context?”

“I asked (y/n) if she wants to see Yesterday with me tomorrow at the "15 showing.”

“And the response was ‘sure, i’m down’?” May asked to clarify. “Well, Peter then that means, ‘sure, i would like to watch that movie’. It’s not as complicated as you’re making it out to be.”

“Yeah dude, try to calm down a little. It’s (y/n), and it’s a movie that they have literally not shut up about. All the talk about ‘supporting brown people in western media,’ so it’s really a no brainer.” 

“Okay, okay.” Peter nodded, the words resonating with him, and for the first time in over an hour he felt calm again.

That all immediately disappeared when May jokingly asked what he was going to wear on his date.

You were waiting at the theater, having already gone to the cvs to buy snacks to sneak in, and were currently waiting on the group to join you. You glanced down at your phone, and continued playing Tetris, looking up every so often to see if you could see them. You became anxious as it became 11:36, and still saw no sight of them. Normally MJ and Ned would’ve been here by now, with Peter being this late. 

“Hey, you ready?” A familiar voice panted out, and you looked up from your phone to see Peter slightly out of breath, bending over and resting his hands on his knees. 

“You know you’re supposed to put your hands up? You’re constricting your chest.” You said out of habit, a little embarrassed that you had said that, but feeling relatively okay at being around Peter for the first time in a week since the incident. “Yeah, but where’s MJ, and Ned. They didn’t bail on us, did they?” You asked, confusion seeping into your features.

Peter’s eyes widened in surprise, confusion settling across his face briefly, before his expression changed into a panicked awkward. “Um, no they both had to bail.” He lied, lamely.

You regarded him with suspicion, your anxiety beginning to rise at the idea of sitting through a whole movie next to Peter, without the safety blanket of your other friends. You had no idea why he would lie to you, but couldn’t even focus on it. You just rolled your eyes, and shook your head, as if to shake all these thoughts from them. “Whatever. You got your ticket?” You asked.

“Yep.” He replied, showing it as proof. 

“Cool, let’s go.” You said, the two of you walking over to the usher, not bothering with rushing since it was relatively new, so there would be a good twenty minutes of preview. 

The usher handed you back your ticket stubs, and you both hopped onto the escalator, going up towards the rest of the theaters. 

“You got the drinks?” You asked, it customary of Peter being the one to bring the drinks.

“Yep, you got the popcorn?” He asked.

You nodded briefly. “Also got chocolate.”

“Like, Hershey’s?”

“No, like the bougie Ghiradelli’s shit.”

The whole conversation felt very mechanical, and an awkward air surrounded the two of you, feeling unsure of what to say. So, you continued silently up the elevator, passing the concession stands.

“Hey, can you bring my bag to the theater? I need to use the bathroom real quick.” You asked, handing the bag to Peter who was nodding.

You rushed into the bathroom, took a piss, and washed your hands. After drying your hands, you felt the urge to screech and pull out your hair, not sure if you could truly sit through the movie, which sucked since you had really wanted to see it. You quickly opened instagram as you walked towards the theater, moving to check your messages. Only then did you realize that the message had been from Peter, individually. You had completely forgotten that the icon of the group chat was Peter’s own icon, and you had used it for the group chat because of how ridiculous it was.

You quickly found Peter in the theater, and moved towards the center middle seats that he had found for you, before standing up letting you briefly know that he had to go to the bathroom. 

Great, ten minutes into hanging out with him and you guys had said maybe five things to each other, and the awkwardness had seeped in. 

You were thankful when the theater darkened, Peter having slipped into his seat a few minutes ago. You quickly closed all the apps on your phone and lowered the brightness to the lowest setting, before focusing your attention back on the screen.

Once the movie ended, you turned to Peter, a big enthusiastic smile on your face. “Oh my god, I loved it! He was so adorable.” You gushed to Peter, a smile spreading across his face. 

“Yeah, it was pretty awesome. But dude, Lily James out here being amazing as always.”

“Oh right, I forgot about your huge-ass crush on Lily James.” You teased.

“Oh, come on, you don’t think that she’s amazing?”

You rolled your eyes at him, laughing slightly. “I do think she’s amazing, but she wasn’t the focus. It was about this dorky Indian dude, and I’m so down for more brown people in western media.” You gushed, the two of you moving out of the theater. 

Peter chuckled softly at seeing you so happy, talking animatedly about the movie. “Can you hold my stuff?” You asked again, and he grabbed it for you as you entered the bathroom, and quickly came back out again.

You saw Peter on his phone, a small smile on his face, before you cleared your throat, announcing your presence in a rather stuck up way. “Hey, mind holding my stuff as I run to the bathroom?” He asked.

You nodded, grabbing his stuff from him. “No problemo.” You said in the most american accent you could, before opening up your phone for the first time since the movie had started, before quickly remembering what had happened earlier. A quick look of confusion flashed over your face as you crafted a text to MJ.

“Hey, so what do you wanna do now?” Peter asked, his presence drawing you away from your phone, forgetting that you needed to press send. 

“I don’t know, I’m good with getting food, or do you wanna movie hop?” You asked, not really in the mood to be walking around the city just yet. 

“I’m good with movie hopping.” Peter answered quickly. 

“Cool, I know that they’re reshowing Cruel Intentions.”

“Didn’t they do that in March for the 25th anniversary or something?” Peter questioned.

“Yeah, but it was doing the really well so they’re bringing it back for the next few weeks, since there is kind of a dryspell of new movies coming out till early August. And it was the 20th anniversary.” You corrected. 

“You sure seem to know an awful lot about this sex movie from the late nineties.” Peter teased, wiggling his eyebrows at you.

You rolled your eyes and laughed at him, gently flicking his shoulder. “If you’re insinuating what I think you’re insinuating Parker, then you would be wrong. I have not seen it, but I wanna.”

“If you haven’t seen it, then how do you know so much about it, and why would you wanna watch it?” He asked, as you guys made your way to the theater diagonally three down from the previous theater you were in.

“Sarah Michelle Gellar.” Was your simple answer.

“Ah, your thirst for Buffy is once again the undoing of us.” Peter teased.

“Hey, my thirst for Buffy has nothing to do with the undoing of us as a group!” You cried out indignantly, despite the smile on your face. “My love for Buffy has brought us closer if anything, we’ve watched the entire series.” You said, as the two of you sat in the back of the theater, not wanting to take seats right in the middle and displace people who had paid for it.

“Twice.” 

“Yes, because it’s a wonderful and amazing show. Besides, if anything is the undoing of us as a group then it would have to be you ditching us all the time.” You teased, the words immediately leaving a bitter taste in your mouth, wishing that you hadn’t said that. 

The light and cheery, and normal air between the two of you had taken nearly two hours to cultivate, and had only came about by watching a movie. And you had managed to destroy it in a matter of a single sentence. 

Peter’s face immediately fell, a look of shame and anger flashing across his face. “I’m not ditching you guys, I’m just super busy...”

“Right, Stark Internship and all.” You nodded, cutting him off in hopes of avoiding this conversation.

“Yeah, and I have a shit-ton of other responsibilities, like stupid fucking decathlon team, robotics team, and all the fucking homework we get.”

You inhaled sharply, feeling ridiculous that tears were prickling at the corners of your eyes. Decathlon team was how you and Peter became good friends. With a cold and calculated voice you said, “I don’t know why you’re yelling at me about this. It’s not like I can control what you have on your plate.” You took a deep breath before looking at him, your expression softening, replaced with worry. “I know you’re going through a lot, especially with Uncle Ben, but Peter, we can’t do anything, I can’t do anything to help you if you keep pushing me away.”

His face crumbled, and he reached for your hand, feeling a little hurt when you flinched slightly before he could do so. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to snap at you. I’m so fucking sorry, I’ve got a lot going on, and that’s not your fault and it’s not fair of me to take it out on you.” He apologized. 

You nodded in understanding, before moving your hand to gently rest on top of his, rubbing your thumb over his knuckles. “I forgive you, Peter.”

“I hope you know that I’m not ditching you.” He said softly, and you rolled your eyes with an incredulous look. “Well, not intentionally.” He corrected himself, and you smiled at him.

“I know.”

“May needs me a lot more, and I feel like I need to be with her more.”

You sighed, a small, sad smile appearing on your face. “That makes sense, Peter, but know that I’m here if you ever need anybody to talk to. And, you shouldn’t feel so guilty about not spending time with her.”

“I know, I just, don’t want to leave her alone and have what happened to Uncle Ben happen to her.” He said, his voice beginning to crack, as tears began prickling in the corners of his eyes.

“Peter, what happened to Ben wasn’t your fault.” You softly whispered to him, moving your hand from resting on top of his, to brushing away the single tear that had fallen from his eyes. 

Oh, how wrong you were. And with that, the lights shut off and the movie began. 

You inhaled sharply as Sarah Michelle Gellar kissed the boy onscreen, squirming in your seat, suddenly becoming uncomfortable at watching this with Peter in a theater with maybe only twelve other people. You had to look away, movie kisses always seemed to gross you out because it seemed like an invasion of privacy. 

You glanced over at Peter who had also looked away, his face turning towards you, the both of your eyes widening as you communicated almost telepathically. 

“What the fuck is happening?” You whispered, giggling nervously.

“I think Buffy is seducing her step-brother to get his car.” He whispered back.

“I mean, I know that, but that is not Buffy.” 

“So says you.”

You paused for a moment, before moving your face closer to his, “Should we leave? If this is too much for wittle petew we can leave.” You teased, immediately regretting it, knowing that he would take it as a challenge to stay, despite the fact that you wanted to leave.

“No, I’m good, that is unless, you want to leave.” He whispered back, and you immediately shook your head. 

“No, I can watch it.”

“Good.”

“Good.” You mocked, before turning back to the screen, the kiss having turned into what was a sex scene. You immediately looked away, your face whipping back towards Peter with widened eyes, and he immediately turned back towards you.   

Your faces were closer than they were the time before, and you inhaled shakily, your eyes flitting from his eyes to his lips then back to his eyes, before swallowing slightly.

Immediately his lips were on yours, his hand coming up to cradle your face, your hands moving their way through his hair as you kissed him back as enthusiastically. You inhaled deeply, causing your nerves to feel like you were on fire, everything about the kiss, the way his hand gently yet firmly held your jaw, the way your lips moved against each other, the way his curls felt in your fingers, your fingernails gently scratching his scalp, the way his tongue languidly slid into your moth, the way it tasted like smartfood white cheddar cheese.

Wait, what?

You pulled away from each other, a perplexed expression on your face as you regarded him with a sense of enamored confusion.

“You taste kind of like the popcorn.” He whispered, as if you didn’t already know.

“Yeah, you do too. Kinda unpleasant.” You admitted softly, an offended look flashing across his face. “Oh!” Your face lit up in slight realization. “I have chocolate.”

You quickly turned away from him, reaching into your backpack for the chocolate squares of milk chocolate with caramel and sea salt that you had purchased, handing one to Peter.

He looked confused, but humored you, and opened the square biting into nearly half of it. He took another bite, much smaller than the last one, and before he could react, you had take then other piece from him, slipping it into your mouth, your lips on each others with not fully melted pieces of chocolate.

You couldn’t help but moan softly into the kiss, the taste of the chocolate being so much better than the popcorn taste. It was thicker, and richer, and the way your mouths moved against each other, the chocolate continue to melting in your mouths, coating your tongue, as you slipped it into Peter’s mouth. You lazily made out with him for a little bit, reveling in the delightful chocolate kiss, before Peter’s hand moved to your waist, gently pulling you even closer towards him.

You smiled into the kiss, trying to pull away so that you could put the armrest up, but he kissed you insistently, bringing both arms to rest on your waist, picking you up and pulling you over the armrest, placing you on his lap, his lips never leaving yours.

You situated on his lap, straddling him, feeling something move against your thigh, causing you to pull away from him, looking down, then back at him with an amused smirk on your face.

“It was the stupid movie.” He whimpered, feeling mortified that you had felt it.

“Don’t worry, I figured.” You reassured him, smiling at him, a goofy and euphoric smile appearing on his face as he looked at you. “You should know though, that I don’t have sex till the first date.” You joked, before pressing a quick kiss on his lips.

He had a delayed reaction, his eyes opening and lips unpursing a second after you had finished kissing him. “I was joking, I haven’t had sex yet, and I would expect a date before sex.” You told him, and even though you were serious, the light tone in which you had said it, made it fit.

“You don’t call this a date?” He teased, smiling at you, pulling you in for another kiss.

You kissed him deeply, your mouths parting as your lips moved against one another, the taste of chocolate still overpowering the kiss, and making your brain hazy, as you tried to pull away from him to answer.

“No, I call it a misunderstanding.” 

“Oh?”

“Yeah, I thought you were asking in the group chat,” You admitted, before kissing him briefly, too long for a peck, but too short for the kisses that you had been having. “So, Parker, when you gonna grow the balls to ask me out?” You teased, kissing him again.

He pulled away from you, a goofy grin appearing on your face, which must have been similar to his own, his pupils blow out, his hair disheveled, his lips swollen and slightly shiny, making you guess about your current state. He stared at you briefly, before tickling your ribcage gently, a quieted laughter escaping you, before his lips were briefly on yours again.

“So, (y/n),” He began, placing a quick peck on your lips, “would,” peck, “you”, peck, “go”, peck, “out”, peck, “on”, peck, “a” peck, “date”, peck, “with”, peck, “me?” Suddenly, his lips were on yours again, firm and gentle, seeming to wipe away any semblance of a response.

He pulled away softly, your eyes remaining closed, before briefly fluttering open, the question that he asked you suddenly popping back into your mind. “Yes!” You whispered. “Yes, Peter I would love to go on a date with you.” 

“Great.” He said, grinning up at you wildly, before languidly kissing you again. 

You couldn’t wipe the goofy, lovesick, smile off of your face for the rest of the night, even after your little brother had made a comment about how you looked crazy. It hadn’t even registered in your brain, as you grabbed a glass of water before heading towards your room, smiling at the photo-booth photos you had of you and each individual member of your group. 

If possible your smile grew bigger at seeing Peter’s, your lips still tingling, the taste of chocolate lingering on your tongue. Without thinking, you slowly brought your hand up to your mouth, gently touching your lips, ghosting over where Peter’s had been an hour ago. You pulled the ticket stub out of your phone case, where you had stuffed it, before placing it with the photos you had of Peter. 

Your phone buzzed, and you giggled slightly, not hesitating to open the text from Peter. 

thai tommorow?

yeah, that’d be awesome.

i fucking love thai

lmao i know, that’s why i asked

you’re kind of a perfect nerd, parker

thanks, i guess

you’re kind of a beautiful nerd

thanks perfect parker

[morethanmonotonous]

MMXX

As I sit in my beautiful city apartment, sitting 48 floors (well, really 38 floors) above ground level looking over the vast and sprawling western Sydney suburbs, it is crazy to be writing another blog post summarising the year that has been, especially after reading last year’s 2019 post. 

2020 was a wild ride, and it’ll be fascinating to see how 2020 is remembered globally as a year, and how much of the world wide chaos will continue into next year, given that after all, 2021 is just another collection of days strung after these has passed. 

We rung in 2020 in a beautiful big house in the blue mountains with 14 amazing people, crawling down the hallway as slugs, drinking, doing too many drugs, and purely in love with life and each other. 

We kicked off the year as we spent 2019, with lots of gigs, big plans of travel, and lots of social outings.

We went to unify in January with Ritchie, Brad, Maddie, Blake, and Elliot. it was the worst weather we have ever encountered there, and that’s a huge call for unify. The new venue was awesome but the 50km+ winds and torrential rain meant lots of time under the gazebo holding it together and listening to enter shikari on the speaker. There was glimpses of festival vibes, seeing Kubla Kahn, Knocked Loose, The Ghost Inside, and Columbus, but also lots of missing shows and general carnage. Also out tent leaked damaging all of our things but still, I wouldn’t have missed unify for the world. There was an amazing crew, with Steph and DJ, fruit and nut, and many other amazing people - what more can you ask for?

We were lucky enough to go to see Dealer, Tiny Moving Parts, Hellions, Crystal Lake, Northlane, and Trophy Eyes, and The Brave, 

I started baking a lot more this year. Celia bought me the beautiful Christmas gift to do a baking stall in Glebe markets, which I fortunately managed to do in Feb. It was so fun and we sold so much and it just invigorated my love of making tasty things for people I love. 

Keira and I also went to a yoga retreat earlier in the year which was awesome, it was great to spend time with her, even finding out she was pregnant! This year in October the family was changed forever in the most beautiful way with the birth of little Baby Ellie. My parent’s also sold their family home to move down to Canberra which was a big adjustment for me and us but they’re all so happy down there together and I’ve been fortunate enough to be able to work from Canberra quite a bit to spend time with the family. 

So now we get to the COVID summary I guess, it’s 2020 after all. In Feb we were kind of joking about this whole COVID thing, not understanding the scale of what was about to change in the world. I started working from home on the 14th of March 2020 and have only been back to the office for one day in between waves of outbreaks. It was a huge and at times very lonely and sad year having to cope with the few month lockdown, closures of gyms, and not being able to see friends. While in lockdown, I started to learn to make peace with being alone and being still. I started making bath bombs, cross stitching, playing lots more fish game, and finding crafts to make me happy. It has given me a huge appreciation of how hard the introvert’s life must be living in an extrovert world, being being forced into a introvert life for months was draining and exhausting. I spent a lot of time at F45 bootcamps and walking around the harbour looking at fish, listening to Enter Shikari and Bright Eyes. 

The year made a lot of people weird in ways I’ve never seen before. Something like the Black Lives Matter protest is a good example. It was a fantastic thing that people were out screaming on the streets about inequality for racial groups and for indigenous rights, but somehow this became a polarising issue. People started denying COVID, becoming anti vaxers, Blake just didn’t reply to be for 6 months, and I feel like the left and right are so extreme and seperate now with the crazy media and information spreading, it’s interesting to watch. I feel like in the past I wouldn’t have even known my friend’s clear political stances, but this year, it’s top of mind for everyone and discussed frequently and fuck me it’s hard to be friends with literally anyone who sympathises with the right. I guess locking people up in their homes for a year does crazy things to them. But at least Trump got voted out, there’s always good things to focus on I guess. 

Between waves Sydney opened up again to seeing friends. We forged a new little group of Jake and Jami, Matt and Jordan, and extra people at different times, but it’s sweet as it’s the first time that Ritchie and I have really made friends together and it’s so lovely having a new home with these left wing inner west emos that I didn’t know I’ve always needed. Celia and Tash have been beautiful constant support this year again and I’m so grateful for such amazing humans to share my highs and lows with. 

I started seeing Chrissy in June this year, once gyms opened again and I wanted to start building some muscle and curves and because I realised I liked lifting heavy stuff more than cardio. It genuinely changed my life. I’m eating more than ever and feeling great in my body, and it’s amazing being focused on performance goals rather than aesthetic for the first time in 10 years. I competed in my first power lifting comp, where I squatted 64kgs, benched 39kgs and deadlifted 100kgs. I know these aren’t huge numbers but I was so proud of my little body for being able to do that (with body weight of 58kgs), and given that I’ve never thought of myself as a strong person. I haven’t missed a workout (except when I got my wisdom teeth out) since I started with her and I am proud of how I’m transforming my body and mindset. 

We spent a weekend in May in Jervis Bay with my family for our birthdays which was amazing and the start of what I think will be a new family tradition. I really love my family so much and feel so damn lucky that I enjoy spending time with them so much. 

We moved homes in June too, upgrading to a 2 bedroom and multiple balcony amazing apartment in the city, just up the road from our old place. Moving was so much damn work but this place is incredible and so much more amazing than I ever thought I’d live in. I’ll always look back at the Waldorf affectionately, as a beautiful place that we created a home in for the first time and shared with so many amazing friends. But damn this place is gorgeous. 

Work was pretty crazy but also not at all. I’ve been at RB again all year this year, that makes almost 2 and a half years which is pretty big for me! I started the year by winning the extra miler award, and being generally very well celebrated as CSM, before being moved to being a NAM. Working under Dani was awful, and the job was literally the worst thing I could ever imagine someone having to do. The bullshit and admin and hours and pressure are something I would never wish on anyone, and after having frequent panic attacks and throwing up out of stress at Hyde park, I realised that life is too short do a job that makes you miserable. While it’s unfortunate that this took me 27 years to work out, I think it’s great that I got there and learned a very valuable lesson in work life balance and happiness. I had to resign from RB at that point, but conveniently, Amna resigned on the same day, making an empty role as CSM for Coles. I pushed for a senior title and now have an awesome job. While working under Chris isn't ideal in some ways, I have a boss that cares about me and a colleague (Ellie) who is smart and awesome. I’m happy working in an interesting and great job that makes me excited do go to work. And even though it won't be my forever job, it’s a great ‘for now’ job that I enjoy, getting great experience on the resume, and that will hopefully take me overseas some day. 

I ended every other blog with hopes and dreams for the next year, and it’s a little sad that I’m so reluctant to do that this time, because I have literally no idea what’s to come next year. I really hope we will be able to travel and see gigs again, it’s hard having the 2 best things in the world ripped away from me. However, honestly, as long as I am surrounded by as much love as I was this year, I know that things will be okay and I’ll be happy. 

[hankeliza]

Hate to be cliche, but here goes.

This decade has been some shit. 2010. Best year of my life. I’m 17, I have my soul mate and best friend every single day of my life. No bills and making way too much money. I got the love of my life, Rome. I am so cool in my mind and just life was fucking GREAT. I met corbin that year and I was legit in absolute bliss.

Feb 2012 my best friend moves to fl and that was so great but I am in absolute shambles. I am lost I am unhappy. This is where it all goes wrong and only now, 8 years later do I realize the codependency issues I had with jenna. I fucking loved that chick from the depths of my goddamn soul, we could speak and make decisions and plans with just locking eyes for a blink of a second. So bc I am sad, lost and unable to make sense of my selfish and immature feelings, I take it out on her and a whole slough of klonopin. Corbin and I are doing bad and this is when it should’ve ended.

April 2012 (hah time is funny af) I do some shady shit, but not to the magnitude it was portrayed. Life moves on and I get back with corbin. This is my new person to rely on. I need him bc he stuck thru it with me and gained my whole hearted trust that he loves me, even when ugly and I love him through all of his ugly. We are ugly and we are in love and nothing in the world matters to me anymore besides him.

Oct 2012 I finally am ready to move outta stc. But corbins with me. I beg and beg and beg to please go to Tampa but nah, we go to Miami. It’ll be easier, Adam will take us in. He still is this big mature, always with it guy, I don’t know him, that’s why. We get there, nothing much to even talk about. Great times but eh. Leavin it at that. Shit happens and we get out of dodge like some fuckin thief’s in the night. Drive two days to portland. I won’t get into all the beautiful shit I saw bc that’ll take too long but, here we are.

I live with a naked hippie that is actually psychotic and oh, later on turns out she’s making us pay for a house SHE IS SQUATTING IN. But anyway, things happened (again adam) and we move to the city city. Won’t even get in to the shit that transpired there, but now I’m moving back home.

Feb 2013 (wow really seeing some timelines matching up of my most unpleasant times of my life?!¿¡) so I’m back home. I don’t sleep, I don’t eat. I think I weighed 110 while standing 5’8. My dads on parole, only time I see sunlight is when he needs to meet with his PO. Nicole nurtures me and literally does everything in her power to make me be better, but I am not ready to feel happiness or bond with any other human. I am not ready to move on or up or out. I am stuck. Corbin moves home. Ahhh yes. My safety blanket is back and I can be happy again (hahahah)

So in the meantime while I was sad Nicole and I are partying, late nights to meijer and rite aid, getting high and snacks and shit is just fucking awesome. She meets the love of her life and he takes her and even me in to his whole friend crowd and I am HAPPY and feel bliss again. I have friends? Imagine that. They fall madly in love and then heh, they move. Well shit. Now mind you I have totally capability to see them whenever I please bc Nicole is an open door policy. But truly I’m lazy, I like convenience and still wrapped up in my own stupid bitchass, (that I can now see, but then couldn’t) and it’s back to corbin and I.

So now it’s getting close to end of 2013 and all I pretty much do is spend every waking moment with corbin. I don’t mean to make that sound so awful, then I loved it. Now, it’s all so bleak.

2014 hits. I’m in and out of jobs. Corbin and I live off of pop can returns. I’m still 21 so like, none of that mattered and I didn’t care about a future. He gets a job and I finally get into the courthouse. We start doing ~molly~ heavy. Locking ourselves in a bedroom from Friday-Sunday. Every weekend. When you hear “ecstasy/drugs ruined my sex life” from older people, you don’t really know what to make of that. When I tell you drugs ruined our sex life and our likeness for each other, now I fucking get it. I stopped smoking weed 24/7 bc I was paranoid of losing my job. Not much more to that year or 2015 than chemical pills and being locked in a room and outdoor adventures with my dog.

2016, I finally convince corbin to {for the love of god} attempt to get his license back (which he did, and then ruined again, but that comes later) so we’re really making moves, honestly for us we were doing shit. We had a marker board calendar AND meeting our goals/deadlines !!! His dad gets oxys, and we’ve been borrowing his Vicodin for idk, a year or 3 at this point. This is kinda when things get fuzzy. But oxys come and got damn do they feel good. But only recreational. It wasn’t serious then.

Corbin gets prescribed adderall. Not much more we need to dive in to with that jazz but oxys and addies were all we ate until about the end of 2017. Pills are gone. Let’s fucking driiiiink.

2018

So I developed an alcohol issue at this point. Still battling it to this day. But I don’t really remember much. Did some cool shit, went to Europe. Met a girl that I’ve never loved kissing more. She was nuts. I moved out of our apartment we got together and back home, re-up w/ Rickey, we have fun. He cheats on me with the girl he got pregnant and neglected (they’re engaged now, congrats guys) I’m completely broken and alone because at this point i have managed to push every waking soul away from me and experience the weirdest fucking shit ever that I can only explain as spiritual, or maybe it was satanic. It burned and hurt and scared the ballsacks out of me. Can’t kill your self if you’re a pussy, turns out.

I spent this whole year trying to find friends, wrong crowd. I developed a relationship with a coworker who still to this day has my heart and soul and I love him and will always hope the best. He is the greatest comfort I had but it was only ever from 5pm - until we finished having drinks and sex and then back to being alone. I even confessed my confused love for him and he set me straight. He showed me more about being strong than anyone ever. I love you D.

The end of September I finally meet up with a dude I can’t take my damn eyeballs off for years. I finally mustered up the courage after making excuses for about 2 weeks why I couldnt meet up with him. So I come over. It’s raining so hard. I couldn’t find his house. I just wanted the god damn dick, and go home. He didn’t let that happen.

We see one another mainly every single day except Wednesday’s because he has plans that day every week. I tried my hardest to ghost him multiple times but he didn’t let that happen either. We are both drinking a lot because we are both sad but our company really really reaaaally made up for the sadness. He is the funniest person I’ve ever met and I think he thought that about me too.

November 21st comes and he is being weird and I am constantly nervous around him so I get weird bc I think I did something or he’s gonna tell me to go home, I didn’t know. He finally says he wants to be my man, like full time man. I have a bf? I don’t want one but something about you is fckin freaky you beautiful boy. Everything is coming together.

And here we go: December 21. 1 month is all it took to mess it up.

Leaving my work party, ironically after getting all of my drinks bought for me :) , I go to jail. Jail was not as bad as I expected. I was a good criminal so I got to sit in a different room w/ a tv until shift change. Oh and ! my high school classmate was a worker there so that was neat ! (jesuschrist) anyway; dont have Laynes number memorized, my family and I just watched my grandpa die, gasping for air 10 day prior. Can’t call my mom. Scared to call my dad (who was the nicest of anyone) soooooo corbin it is. I dealt with his jail problems time after time so, his turn I guess.

Welp it’s 2019. Not much to say. Layne stuck through all of it with me and I have no fucking clue why. Got a therapist. Stopped drinking whiskey completely. Bought a vacuum and couch. Live with my way too supportive boyfriend. My family fucking loves him. I am .... growing ? stronger ? mentally ? as every day passes ? because of him ? He teaches me so much about moving on, life and just thinking before doing. Life ain’t that serious. I love you Layne. I completely do. I started alcohol classes and I went in with such a shitty attitude, like I’m better than everyone? (Been my issue for, forever) I fucking love my group sessions. I am for once not alone with the unpopular shit I struggle with. Addiction is so real and I always thought it was a stupid ass excuse for being lazy but hahhhhhh karma loves me.

I’ve been struggling so hard with jenna. I have talked to a handful of people and most have said it’s been blown out of proportion but, don’t hurt your friends. I finally fucking wrapped it up when I got ahold of her, tried to anyway, before Christmas. I explained a lot, now that I’ve had years to sit back and reflect on myself and my bullshit and I can’t blame her (side bar: she still didn’t care lol.) But I am fuckin over it. My feelings got hurt to absolute fuck about some things and instead of being mature, I fucked her over, because I felt fucked over. But I’m sorry, I did that, I take responsibility and best wishes forever but an anvil weight has finally been lifted off my chest and I feel like I can finally move the fuck on and it’s such a great feeling to get rid of something that’s been eating me alive.

So basically, the last two years ate me the fuck alive. This year I meditated on shit. We will see how 2020 goes but I am ready considering what I’ve done to myself, been through and I still am fucking alive and trying. Being a human is dumb but it’s aight sometimes. Getting better. Good luck y’all.

[mycounselortoldmetojournal]

On the Gym

The most difficult part of going to the gym for me is walking through the front door and knowing I”ll be seen. Flawed, fat, imperfect, heavy, not-lean... it’s the looks that I can’t do.

I love fitness knowledge.  Jeff Nippard is fucking amazing.  I can go on about energy systems, hypertrophy vs catabolism, rep ranges and total rep volume per muscle group per week, the necessity of eccentric resistance during lifts, TDEE, TEF, RMR.... on, and on, and on....

And yet, I’m still fat. 

I can lecture about macro nutrients; I have spreadsheets upon spreadsheets of calculations of total calories and how many grams of protein vs carbs vs fat; wanna talk Keto? Sure.

I have all this knowledge. I know my shit.  I’ve read, I’ve researched, I’ve listened to evidence based podcasts and bodybuilders; jeff nippard, Dr. Brett Contraras; Mike Izertel et al... 

And yet, I’m still fat.

Because I walk through the door of the gym and all eyes turn on me, and all I feel is fear.  Fear of being judged. Fear of not being worthy enough. Like I don’t belong there. Like I shouldn’t be there. Like I’m not worthy enough to be there. 

Because there are guys with six packs, and big arms, and bicep veins, and tall traps, and delts that are striated... and I have fat and flub around my midsection from where I lost 115 lbs through sweat and tears and diet and sheer fucking determination, and yet I can’t seem to move past this point. 

And no, I’m not 23 any more, and my body is changing and aging, but fuck that shit.  I see guys in their 50s who’re still muscular and lean. They may have gray chest hair, but they’re still hot men. 

“Block everyone else out; just get into your music,” they say. I wish I knew how. Have I tried? Of course I’ve tried. But we all check each other out, and every glance is a judgement; a microevaluation. “My arms are bigger than his” “Oh, he only has 180lbs on that bar? Lil’ bitch.”  “ Jesus, big as he is, you’d think he could squat more.”

And yes, I get it. I’m fused from T4-L4.  I literally have a solid column of bone and titanium for a spine. My spine does not bend. At all. It cannot.  I cannot bend.  So how the fuck can I ever work my abs? I can’t flex my spine. There’s no spine to flex.  Just titanium and solid bone.

So of course my squats are gonna be fucked up. My legs are uneven lengths, my hips are shifted in 2 different dimensions, my spine is titanium... I’m not “normal,” in any shape of the word.  

And writing that sentence, I feel the tears well up in my eyes.  The burning in my throat. The vision clouds.  Because having always been different; having always been an outlyer; having always been on an extreme of the bell curve; having always had to be the exception in one way, shape, form or the other, I can only imagine that it’d be nice to be.... normal.  To have a spine that bends, hips that function and open and can be used for running without debilitating pain, to squat to proper depth without folding over and getting lectured from all the douche-bros who can’t be bothered to ask a fucking question before throwing their opinion out into the void. 

I wish I could get angry in the gym; to put all this repressed rage (and yes, it is RAGE) into the weights. To snarl, and growl, and scream, and push, and yell “FUCK YOU, WEIGHT, YOU GODDAMN MOTHER FUCKING PIECE OF SHIT! YOU WILL FUCKING BEND TO MY WILL!!” But I don’t know how.  I was raised to be so tightly controlled, so tightly wound, so... fucking perfect, and to always be measured up against a standard of perfection... there’s so much there. There’s so much rage. There’s so much anger. There’s so much hurt.  There’s so much darkness.... pressed down. Deep, deep, deep down.  Weighed and anchored and sunk to the bottom of the lake, frozen over with feet of ice; a sleeping demon; staring up at the faint glow of starlight through snow and ice, left alone in the insufferable cold; abandoned... until one day, i fear it, I know it, the ice will crack; the anger and rage and hate and evil and darkness will be too much to hold; the ice cold lake will bubble and boil; the ice above the demons head will steam and crack, thrust heaven-ward in an explosion of steam and rock and rage; the stars extinguished into total blackness and night, and in total darkness, with a roar heard for miles upon miles, mercilessly, quickly, efficiently, the rage takes over; and pain, hurt, will be inflicted to all those around me.

I’m loud.  I’m loud in bed.  I moan, I snarl, I growl. I can be heard.  I was trained as an opera singer in school. I don’t need a microphone to be heard in any performance space. My friends find me in a grocery store by my laugh; I cannot count the number of times I’ve been told to quiet down.

(By the way, Fuck you. Fuck you for telling me to be quiet when I laugh. Fuck your inability to see my joy, and to not want others to see my joy, and your abject lack of joy.  Fuck you. Do not ever tell me to be quiet. Match my joy, or get the fuck away from me, you mirthless cunt. )

But if I were to scream at the weight; If I let the demon out and terrorize the temple of iron... even in the privacy of home... I don’t know that I could do it.  I would be heard. 

I want to celebrate what my body CAN do, not focus on what it’s not. I want to lift and feel the joy of knowing that my body is AMAZING. That I can lift 2x my body weight from the floor without problem. To feel strength flow through me. To feel the joyous feeling of a stretch in a full range of motion. TO feel my chest tight after high volume days; to feel my ass tight after heavy hip thrusts. To breathe, deeply, without shame, knowing that’s what my body was designed to do.

When I was a kid up at camp, they had this thing where you would run a mile every morning, memorize scripture (pastor dad, remember?) and do a service project.   The scripture was easy, the service was fun, but I never got the award . Why? Running.

I would hold my breath when I ran.  Still find myself doing it.  In my mind, the fat guy is going to be gasping for breath, while the lean XC runner next to me, breathing even harder, was somehow... right.  It was wrong for the fat guy to breathe; it was gasping; pitiful; weak.... The athlete was right, natural, as it should be. So I would hold my breath, and go about 100 yards, maybe, if I was lucky.  I would rather have not finished and been a quitter than be seen as the fat fuck breathing and sweating and coming in last, who still finished.

Because kids are assholes. And I was constantly reminded that I would finish behind the pack. even when the counselor would run / walk with me. None of them had the forethought to say “This is how it’s supposed to go. You’re doing it right. You’re in the right.  If you want to change, this is how it’s done.  Yes. Yes yes. 1000x yes, you’re doing it right.  Keep doing it. Over, and over, and over, and I will be next to you as you do.”

And writing that, again, I tear up.  My throat is tight, and I want to hide.  I want to cry, but I’m a proud motherfucker, and I don’t fuckin’ cry.

I guess that’s a desire of mine, or something that’s been missing, to create such a strong emotional connection. TO have someone beside me; to not say anything; to not coach; to not lecture; to just.... be. And to know and say “Yes, you are in the right.  This is what you’re supposed to do. And I support you. You are not alone in struggle; you are not alone in shame; you do not have to carry these burdens alone.  I am here; I am willing to take what you will give me; to walk along side, to run along side; to share in your pain and joy.  You will struggle, and you are not alone. When the eyes turn to you, and all you want is to vanish from sight, I will lift your chin up high and stand shoulder to shoulder, to make sure you take that first step, and the next, and the next...”

And all I want to do right now is go eat a burrito.

[vivaciouswordsmith]

Chapter 2 already?!

Wow you guys. I could never have expected such an overwhelmingly positive response to Four-Legged Fiend. You guys seriously are the best. I’d had about two or three chapters planned out already, so expect the delays to start popping up after chapter 3. But who knows? I certainly don’t. :)

Also I absolutely based the first two chapters on my mom’s experience with her two newest kittens, Dipper and Mabel. She “fostered” them for about thirty minutes before deciding to adopt them, then spent about two weeks trying to convince my dad to let her keep them. He resisted up until Christmas.

So I guess, in a way, I have them to thank for the beginning of this story.

This is them, by the way.

And, of course, thanks to the lovely @ask-thevagabond for giving me the idea in the first place. :D

Anyway, I finished chapter 2 quicker than expected, so I’m putting it up now. As always, you can read it here or beneath the cut. Enjoy!

Chapter 2: Another Man’s Treasure

“I told you, we’re not keeping that thing!”

Jack scowled at Geoff and scooped up the pup. “He is not a thing.”

Geoff crossed his arms. “Fine. We’re not keeping him. Is that better?”

Jack huffed and left the living room. They’d returned to their home two days ago when their contacts sounded the all-clear. As it turned out, the pup was indeed old enough to eat solid food, and he’d turned into a little vacuum cleaner. Jack swore the little thing had sucked down more than double his weight in food in a matter of hours, and he ran out of canned food only two days into their stay. With his belly full, the pup grew much bolder. He stopped hiding in Jack’s lap and explored their little hideout from top to bottom. Geoff spent the whole time eyeing the pup balefully and grumbling under his breath.

He nearly flipped his lid when the pup squatted in the corner and peed all over the power cables. It took Jack nearly fifteen minutes to remind Geoff that the pup wasn’t paper trained and he didn’t deliberately target the cables to piss him off. His partner eventually relented with the promise that Jack would keep the pup out of trouble for the remainder of their stay, and would find him a good home when they returned to Los Santos.

Jack had yet to make good on the second part of that promise.

Truth be told, the pup had won him over the moment he saw that tiny skull-face peeping up at him from the depths of the garbage bag. Jack couldn’t even imagine getting rid of the little pup now. Hell, the first thing he did after getting back to Los Santos was read up on dogs and raid the nearest pet store. There was now a box in his room stuffed to the brim with dog toys, a shelf full of wet puppy food in the kitchen, a ceramic bowl covered in dog prints in the sink, several dog beds strewn about the apartment, a leash hanging beside the door, pee pads in every corner he thought the pup could reach, and an entire slew of tiny shirts and collars residing in his dresser drawer. He’d blown a sizable chunk of his cut from the heist on puppy stuff.

He didn’t regret it one bit. Especially not when he saw the little black and white baby curled up in a corner of the giant dog bed the cashier had assured him the pup would grow into one day.

God, he already had eight billion puppy photos on his phone. He was so fucked.

Jack chuckled and waltzed into the kitchen. Most of the articles he’d found online said the pup needed plenty of food to grow into a good, strong dog. The pup ate like it was going out of style, and Jack swore he’d already doubled in size. He wiggled in Jack’s arms and pushed his wet nose into his beard. His little stick of a tail wagged as soon as Jack put him on the counter and set his bowl beside him. He had half a can left over from the pup’s breakfast, which he quickly retrieved from the fridge. The pup yipped and scampered around on the counter.

“It’s coming, it’s coming.” Jack dumped the remainder of the can into the bowl, and it was immediately beset by the pup. He smacked and slurped at the food, and little bits of processed meat flew out and spattered over the counter. Jack beamed and brushed his fingers over the pup’s back. He currently wore a shirt that proclaimed I’m a Bad Boy, with a skull and crossbones beneath the text. Out of the twenty-odd shirts Jack had bought, it was currently his favorite.

“Don’t tell me you’re feeding him on the counter again.” Geoff bumped past Jack and pulled a beer from the fridge. He closed the door, retrieved a bottle opener from the utensil drawer, and popped the top off. “We make shit on that counter.”

“You know Clorox exists, right?”

“I don’t fucking care.” He chugged half the beer in one go and burped. “The fuck is he wearing, anyway?”

“A shirt?”

“Why the fuck is he wearing a shirt?”

“Cause it’s funny and he doesn’t seem to mind?”

“Who does that?!”

“Literally everyone who owns a dog?”

Geoff shook his head. “It’s weird.”

“Is it any weirder than anything else people do for their pets?”

“You know what? I’ll tell you what’s weird. His fucking face. His fucking face is weird.” Geoff pointed at the pup. “That skull face isn’t natural. Little freak.”

“Really, Geoff? Really?” Jack patted the pup’s back a few times. “You’re not a freak, are you?”

“Number nine on Los Santos’s most wanted list, everybody.”

The pup polished off his lunch and looked up at Jack. His head tilted to one side. “That’s all you’re getting until dinnertime, champ.” He put the bowl in the sink and picked the pup up again. “How about you and me go for a walk?”

“How about you and him find him a home that isn’t here?”

“I’m working on it.”

“Says the guy who bought a dog fucking t-shirts!” Geoff tramped back into the living room and flopped into a worn armchair. “I’ll find one myself if you don’t.”

“Sure. Once you convince some assholes to come work for us, you can find the pup a home.”

Geoff groaned and let his head flop back against the aging leather. “Don’t fucking remind me. I’m talking to this guy up in New Jersey right now, but it’s like pulling fucking teeth.”

“Why are you talking to a guy in New Jersey?” Jack pulled the leash and a tiny blue harness off the peg next to the front door and set the pup on the ground. He growled and ran over to Geoff’s ottoman. “Goddammit, I know you don’t like it, but you have to wear a leash when we go out!”

“He claims he’s the best demo guy in the business, and he’s job hunting at the moment, and he’s interested in joining a proper crew.”

“So what’s the problem?” Jack managed to catch the pup and wrestled him into his harness. The pup growled and spent several minutes trying to bite the straps on his shoulders.

“The problem? The problem is we’re in Los Santos and he’s in fucking New Jersey and he’s not sure he wants to relocate two thousand goddamn miles away from home!” Geoff sipped at his beer and sighed. “I’m trying to negotiate with him, but it’s looking unlikely.”

“Then find someone closer to home.”

“It’s not that simple.”

“Why not? Sounds pretty fucking simple to me.” Jack clipped the leash onto the harness and opened the door. “We’ll be back in about fifteen minutes, okay?”

“Whatever.”

The pup resisted being led by the leash right up until they left the apartment. His little ears stood up straight and he immediately ran in front of Jack. He sniffed the slimy-looking sidewalk and darted over to a beer can with several cigarette butts sticking out of the aperture. Jack tugged on the leash and pulled the pup away from the debris. God, this apartment was a shithole.

While they walked, Jack mused on what Geoff had said earlier. He’d talked for several years now about forming a proper crew, but it was only when they got back from their most recent heist that he’d seriously started looking into recruiting. Apparently he’d been pinching his pennies for quite some time so he could hire what he called “the best in the business.” He promised Jack that things would be better once they got some guys. No more squatting in holes. No more fearing the LSPD would come knocking on their door. No more drug running in the middle of the night. No more kowtowing to greasy-looking shitheads who were half as old as them. They would be the ones calling the shots. They would be the ones on top. They’d sit back sipping champagne and laugh while their underlings did the dirty work.

At least, that was Geoff’s dream. God only knew how it would turn out.

Most of the fifteen minute walk went by uneventfully, save for a few moments where Jack had to keep the pup from exploring upturned trash cans and abandoned buildings. He trotted along happily enough, which left Jack to his contemplating. Soon enough it was over and they were heading home. The little pup climbed a set of three stairs leading up into the parking lot all by himself, and looked down on Jack with what almost looked like pride.

“Good job, buddy!” The pup’s tail wagged, and warmth settled over the criminal’s insides. He scooped the pup up and carried him back into the apartment.

Geoff now snored in his worn chair, laptop still resting on his knees, though it looked dangerously close to smashing on the floor. Jack sighed and put the laptop on the coffee table. “So much for that crew thing,” he muttered. The pup looked at him and tilted his head. “C’mon, buddy, let’s go take a nap.”

When Jack woke up, the pup was not in his bed. A moment of panic flashed through him and he jumped out of his bed. He ran into the living room and glanced around several times before finally catching sight of the pup. Relief washed over him, and then he let out a soft laugh.

The pup had somehow crawled onto Geoff’s lap and fallen asleep with his legs stretched out and his muzzle buried in his partner’s knees. His sock-clad back leg occasionally twitched in time with an unseen dream, and the pup let out a tiny grunt every so often.

Jack pulled out his phone and took a few pictures. The shutter sound eventually caused Geoff to stir. He let out an incomprehensible grumble and looked down into his lap. His shoulders stiffened, and he glared at Jack.

“Don’t…fucking…say…anything.”

“Say what? I didn’t put him there.”

“This…this changes nothing! He’ll be out of here by Thursday, I swear to fucking Christ!” The pup rolled over and showed Geoff his black and white underbelly. His front paws folded up against his chest and his back paws stretched out into Geoff’s lap. His mouth opened ever so slightly, revealing the tip of a bright pink tongue. Jack’s partner swallowed and tore his eyes away. “Friday. But that’s my final offer.”

“How can you look at that and still want to give him away?”

“I don’t! I mean, I do, but – shut up. Just shut up.” Geoff shifted in his chair until he was able to grab his laptop and set it on the arm of the chair. “I’m looking up good homes for puppies right now, I swear to fucking Christ.”

“Sure you are.” Jack meandered over to the kitchen and got a beer and a bag of chips for himself. When he walked by Geoff he glanced over at his laptop screen and saw an Amazon store page full of dogs wearing little suits and hats. “We’re not keeping him, huh?”

“What? Uh, it’s not what it looks like!” Geoff alt-tabbed out of the page and quickly googled ‘dog homes’. He only became more frantic when the results were all dog houses. “I, uh, you know, guy’s gotta look his best if he’s gonna win his new family over, right?”

“Uh huh. Sure.”

“Seriously. I want him to make a good first impression.”

The pup stirred and yawned widely. His tiny white teeth flashed in the light. He rolled onto his paws, shook himself and jumped onto the arm of the chair. He snuffled at the dogs on the screen and looked up at Geoff.

“Yeah? Like what you see, buddy?” Geoff rubbed between the pup’s ears. “I bet this blue deal would bring out your eyes.” He pointed at something on the screen. The pup licked his finger and wagged his tail. “We’ll make you look handsome as fuck.”

Jack just watched the scene play out like it was a movie. He hid his smile behind his beer bottle and munched on chips. The ‘staunch resistance’ looked like it would peter out soon enough.

“‘We’re not keeping him’ my ass,” he said under his breath.

“What was that?” Geoff looked up from the screen. His fingers still rested on the pup’s back.

“Nothing.”

“Seriously? This is so stupid.”

“He needs a name, dude.”

Jack looked over at the opposite wall and raised his eyebrows. “On that, we agree, sure. But this is your best solution?”

The pup’s name had been a topic of heated debate all week long. Both of them had entire lists of wonderful names that neither of them agreed on. Then, that Wednesday morning, right after Jack had finished a rather difficult carjacking job, Geoff pulled him into the living room and told him all their name troubles were solved. His ‘solution’ involved covering their dartboard in over a dozen Post-It notes with names scrawled on them in Sharpie. One toss of a dart would finally end their week long debate.

“Look, it was either this or drawing names from a hat. If you have a better idea, I’m all ears.”

“Nope. This is all you.” The pup ran toward them and sat down at Jack’s feet. He bent down and scooped him up, smiling when the pup snuffled at his cheek. “Looks like you’ll finally get a name now, if Geoff ever throws the damn dart.”

“I’m working on it!” Geoff picked up a red-fletched dart, which he claimed was his lucky dart, closed one eye, and cocked it over his shoulder. “Okay…aiming for Skeletor…really…feeling…Skeletor.”

“For the last time, we’re not naming him Skeletor.”

“Yeah? When this dart lands on Skeletor, you’re gonna look real stupid. Like…right now!” Geoff stepped forward and threw the dart. It thunked solidly into the Post-It note directly below the ‘Skeletor’ note. “Fuck.”

“Like I said, we’re not naming him Skeletor.” Jack walked forward and pulled the dart out of the board.

“That, uh, that was a misfire. That means I get a retry.”

“What – no you don’t get a retry! You said one shot would decide this! That was your one shot! So we’re naming him…” Jack grabbed the Post-It note and glanced at it. “Ryan. We’re naming him Ryan.”

“Oh my God, that’s the most boring name in the universe,” said Geoff. “I still say we should go for Skeletor.”

“Well, what do you think?” Jack looked at the pup in his arms. He gazed solemnly back at him. “You think Ryan’s a good name?” The pup tilted his head, and his tongue flopped out of his mouth. “Ryan it is then.”

Geoff glared at the faded marks on the red dart. “Traitor.”

Jack burst out laughing. The pup – now Ryan, he supposed – wiggled in his arms and let out a yip.

“Don’t get too excited, Ryan. Next up is your vet appointment.”

Ryan whined and ducked his head into Jack’s arm.