#cause idk I feel too weird going somewhere like this alone

[ghostickle]

Booked a reservation at a cat cafe I’ve wanted to go to since they first announced they were building it years ago >:)

[insanechayne]

~ ~ ~

[rebouks]

Let's be nosy and see what a few folks have been up to recently and/or since Somnium ended, shall we..? 👀

Kaden/Joey are still around, somewhere.. Joey would probably tell you by accident, but Kaden keeps him on a tight leash. I very much doubt either of them have changed their ways, you can't teach an old dog new tricks and all that... I dunno if we'll really see em again properly, though I never say never!

Brynn, Ace and Robert may have left Del Sol, but Randy and Genesis are still stuck in their old ways. Sissy likes the attention and money from her "job" too much to leave. I think part of her still hopes someone's gonna whisk her away to a life of luxury and she'll live happily ever after, just like Brynn did.. assumedly 😩 Randy won't leave without her ofc, and he doesn't really like change anyway. He's lazy, what else is he gonna do?! The motel barely makes any money either, but he manages with a few odd jobs from the less savoury folks around town. They're doing swell 👍

Luckily, no one ever ratted on Darien and he was far too careful to end up under the microscope without being exposed - especially since Wyatt left the scene - so he moved back to San My eventually. Ever the workaholic, he found himself a job at the same accounting/law firm as Wade (props to anyone who remembers him lmaoo) he doesn't need the money but he'd probably go insane without a job ngl 😆 He doesn't really find it easy to make friends either, and Wade recently found himself behind bars for a lil tiny bit of tax evasion so he's pretty lonely-.. although he did meet a fellow asexual lady friend he's been on a couple dates with recently. They have fun n' get on well, but she thinks he's this straight laced/awkward accountant and it makes him feel weird, like he's lying about himself.. so idk how long that'll last. I think he kinda misses being part of a "family", however fucked up it was.. but most of all, he just misses Wyatt 😔

Alma and Mack have been hanging out more often recently, just casually tho u kno?? She likes her freedom too much to give it all up, and although he's a great lover, he's a terrible boyfriend lmaoo.. I think she's accepted that Mack is Mack so they're not making it serious or official this time. They're not exactly getting any younger either, may as well have some fun whilst they're still here, right?! Kobe's considering moving out 'cause eugh 😆

Brivan n' co are just kinda living life right now, working, hanging out with Jacob/Suzie/Miya a fair bit and tryna get used to the news of Jude n' such u kno? Pixie's hitting her milestones like a champ ofc, but she's a picky eater just like her pappy 😅 Bruno insists he's fine but he's been a lil quiet and weird recently. Part of him still struggles with his old self and his guilt, though he ain't exactly a talker, so he retreats into himself now and then instead. He's been thinking of proposing to Ivan occasionally as well, but he doesn't want to do it whilst he's in a funk AND he's a lil worried (aka majorly overthinking) the fact that Ivan might not take too well to being proposed to?? But wait, nah.. he'd love it, right? Maybe-.. unless he hated it, maybe he'd rather be the one to ask-.. should he? Yes-.. no, wait-.. maybe?!!? Probably-.. AGHHHHHFJSDK <- said Bruno's brain 🙈

Jessie and Ivan have been taking it slow, mostly since she's so damn busy all the time, but also 'cause they hardly know each other n' all. Ivan's kinda bummed she's slow to trust him, but he can't exactly blame her so he's being patient n' meeting them whenever he can. Jude is so smitten with his new pappy tho, he even wanted to grow his hair just like him 😭 Oscar n' Robin have tagged along a few times as well since the kiddos are practically the same age, but idk if Robin is too sure abt Jude just yet! He's very talkative and he's a big hugger.. I wonder where he gets that from?? 🤣 I think Jessie's finally warming up to the idea of sharing Jude 'cause she agreed to leave him alone with Ivan for a sleepover soon! They're gonna get dressed up n' head to Oscar's for a spooky party! Oh, and Oscar thinks Jessie has a nice rack....... boi plz 🙄

Not pictured/spied upon..

Tilda - she's just existing rn tbh! She hangs out with Brivan/Pixie now n' then which she enjoys more than she'll let on! She's tryna stay away from dating and focus on herself too.. but she's not all that keen on herself so that's hard work 😩 a few dates here n' there but nothing interesting! She's also still ignoring her family.

Noah n' co - Aspen started teaching a few mommy/toddler yoga classes in the upstairs portion of Noah's gallery since he barely uses it, Juni loves it! Juni started ballet recently too 🩰 Noah's still salty with Oscar for not hanging out more but the man's busy dammit! I think Oscar's glad he's on semi-decent terms with everyone but he'd rather keep them at arms length so it stays that way skdjskjd

Salton - Alton's still Alton lmao.. though Sid gives him more shit nowadays since she's mostly retired she's realised he's even lazier than she thought and I'm sure she regrets letting him get a TV! She's a bit bored/lost tbh, which is why she hasn't fully retired yet.. introspection doesn't suit her (so says she) and she doesn't like all this extra time to think n' shit.. ough 🙈

Rhys & Tommy - both finished uni wooooooo! They're staying with Rhys' parents for now tho, Tommy's not rlly sure what to do with his psychology degree yet but he still thinks he'd like to be a psychologist so maybe he'll get a job/save up n' do his masters or smth?! Rhys has been taking on jobs as a wedding/event photographer for now, but he'd like to veer more towards photography as an art form-.. tho he's not sure how to go about that just yet either 🤔 they're figuring it out and they're happy so it doesn't rlly matter toooo much for now

Uhhhhh idk I've probably missed some folk out but feel free to ask abt anyone else in the comments! 🧡

[youreirrelevant]

I'd Love To Take You Down And Leave You There

pairing: kendall roy/reader

summary: You feel kind of stupid for asking him to coach you, cause, like. Who doesn’t know how to do this? Still, he sounds pretty while he does, voice deep, enunciating and hitting the consonants in this really satisfying way. And, unbeknownst to you, he’s getting a very sick feeling of glee talking you through it. Heart hammering against his chest, too excited to see what you’ll do.

“Then you just inhale. Quickly.”

words: 9506

tags: EXPLICIT, angst and a little fluff? weird power play stuff, coerced drug use, and therefore dubcon, choking, slapping, hair-pulling, manhandling in general, SUPER unhealthy relationship, emotional manipulation, friends to lovers ig, unprotected sex, drug and alcohol use, suicide and death mentions, degradation, corruption kink?? sadism and masochism and also sadomasochism, spitting in someone's mouth, references to sexual acts like shining a shoe with your tongue, face-fucking, and water breathplay, non-negotiated kink

a/n: idk i watched prague and saw how Kendall could be a manipulative sadist (along with his established masochistic tendencies) and decided to go with it.

35 Hudson Yards. Limestone and glass; eight sleek tiers. Wealth, abundance. An eighth of an ounce. Crazy. Some things slotted into place so easily for Kendall Roy, and others, not so much.

You have to tip your head back to look up at it. So far back your mouth has to fall open.

-------

You’d been to the old apartment, or at least, the old building. Dragged to Greg’s party, though if it was even his to begin with was debatable. He seemed worn out about halfway through, slumped above his guests. You felt deep empathy for him then-all the people and the noise, it was exhausting. And if it had been where you lived, well, you’d probably be a little more than tired. Angry, really. The friend who had brought you there had gone off somewhere, with someone, else, and you felt practically paralyzed by the intensity of it. Flush with one of the pillars between the windows, trying not to look as overwhelmed as you felt. The lively atmosphere had been fun at first, but now you’re alone among a bunch of bodies-people you don’t know, a place far out of your reach.

The edge of your phone hit against your palm in a slow, steady tempo, your other hand swinging it, needing something to fidget with. You could’ve looked at it, scrolled through Twitter or something to pass the time, but you felt the need to watch, see where everyone was and what they were doing. Hypervigilant. Which is how you saw him, headed your way from your left. His eyes looked dark in the low lighting, lingering on some of the faces he passed, some of their bodies. But he kept moving forward, seemingly your way, so, your eyes didn’t leave him.

A woman passed him as he emerged into your little bubble by the windows, and his head swiveled to check her out, too. Your eyes swept over his profile quickly, pouty lips and prominent nose, thick lashes and the gentle slope of the back of his head. Baby hairs neat at the nape of his neck. A little rush of heat ran over your skin, and you bit the very inside of your bottom lip. Your hand had stilled, phone heavy where it lay. Finally, he looked at you, first his head and then his eyes soon after, gave you what seemed to be the required once over as he sipped some drink from a can. Like something you’d see at a frat party, juxtaposed against the high ceilings of the apartment, and the dark sweater he wore that just looked expensive.

“Hey, you, uh, tweaking over here? Take something too strong?”

Words slurred on a deep voice, and he sounded more curious than concerned. Did you look that nervous? There was an urge to try and hide your phone out of embarrassment, still poised as it had been when you had checked him out yourself, but you instead clung on to it tighter. You must’ve taken too long to answer, because he took another sip, eyebrows raised inquisitively.

“Uh, no. I’m just… not big on parties,” as if to illustrate, or to make sure that’s actually where you were, you glanced to the crowd. Your stomach turned at the sight of it, at the knowledge that there was so much space and it was all filled up.

“Uh-huh,” he sounded condescending, dismissive. His eyes scraped down your body, slower this time, and you couldn’t tell if he liked what he saw or was judging you deeply. You tried not to squirm under the scrutiny, only allowing yourself to press the toe of your right shoe into the top of your left. There was just a small gap between his eyelids, the length of those lashes almost touching his cheeks, and you hated how you were annoyed with him but felt a weird, compelling force drawing you toward him. Gravity.

Somehow, over the music and voices, you heard him click his tongue against the roof of his mouth, as if he’d made up his mind. Not that you could tell what his decision was from it.

“So,” he looked back up to you, put his free hand in his pocket, and you saw him sway a bit on his feet, “did you come here with someone?”

You rotated your phone in your grasp, the screen now pressed into your left palm, fingers and thumb wrapped around the edges.

“Yeah, just my friend. She ran off with someone earlier.” To do who knows what.

He stepped closer to you, narrowed his eyes a bit like he was trying to remember, see if he knew you. How he wouldn’t know by then-

“What’s your name?” You felt like you were being interrogated, like you weren’t allowed to be there or something. Brows pinched and rose in the middle, imploringly, lips pursed just a bit. Still, you gave it to him, with what you hoped was a normal and not at all suspicious amount of hesitation.

Dude didn’t even have the decency to give his back.

“Do you have her number- your, uh, friend? Like, could you text her to tell her where you are?”

Okay, you were really confused. She already knew where you were-

“You know, if you wanted to leave? With me?” There was an edge of annoyance, like you should’ve known that’s what he was getting at, where all the questions were headed. And maybe you should’ve? You looked off into the middle distance, frustrated and looking for answers. Pressed your fingertips into the bridge of your nose.

“You’re kind of rude. I’m clearly anxious and you come over here and ask me a million questions, and you don’t even give me your name, and aren’t you drunk?”

His face split in a big, toothy grin, filled with way too much mirth and incredulity. Corners of his eyes crinkled up prettily, and despite your glaring you’re charmed by it.

“I’m Kendall,” he says it like its so fucking obvious. How would you not know? Your eyes flickered around again, as if you were searching your brain for actual clues. He stood there, watching, and you felt stupid.

Wait…

“Oh.” He nods his head exaggeratedly at your realization, eyes closed, eyebrows raised again in a superior way that pissed you off but made your stomach flip. It was surprising. Flattering, in a way, that he’d shown interest in you. It wasn’t supposed to be, as if he deigned you, a mere peasant, worthy of his time. (And he probably knew you were one, too, with that heavy appraisal he had given you earlier. Just from the material of your clothes, the way you held yourself.) You tried to put aside the other reasons that it was flattering-that you found him attractive. And charming. Somehow.

“So?”

“You’re drunk,” you reiterated.

Kendall smiled again, like he knew something he shouldn’t. Then, he sighed, through his nose.

“One more question. It’s the last one. Promise,” you gave him the benefit of the doubt, thinking he meant to cross over his heart, but instead he crossed his fingers. Drunk.

“Sure,” the disbelief in your tone was clear.

“Can I at least get your number?”

Surprised again, written all over your face in the way it slackened, eyes widened. You really thought he’d just move on, (and he would, afterwards, for the night.) Blinking it away-unaware of the way his sluggish mind tried to figure out the length of your lashes as you did it-you moved your phone into your back pocket, and held your hand out for his.

“Yeah, sure,” pressed your lips together to stop from smiling bashfully, your mood turning on a dime from the question.

Kendall handed it over-you wondered if he had more than one, if he carried them both? Or all? With him everywhere, and what he used for his business phone, since this was an iPhone-and you entered your number and name into his contacts. He watched as you did it, noted the way you didn’t give yourself a cute little nickname, or use emojis. It’s your full, government name. He also watched the way you went into the notes section, and stop-started several, embarrassing times, on putting in where you both met. The implication-that he’s so drunk he wouldn’t remember-made you reconsider, but the fact that he actually might not had you eventually doing it.

You gave it back with a nervous smile, and his index finger brushed yours as he took it. It was so, so stupid how you had to stop yourself from reacting, like this was Pride & Prejudice or something.

“Well, I’ll… see you around.”

“Uh, yeah,” hopefully.

When Kendall turned from you, you made the decision to find the friend who dragged you here in the first place.

And he, well. He could feel all that weight settled on his shoulders again, on his chest. Seemed like it could pull him through the floor, through all of them, and down into the molten earth where he belonged. Where he’d burst into a cloud of red steam, the pressure finally released.

Until then, a little thought kept him above, like a bobber on the water, half submerged-

You were really easy.

----

It’s dark out; a little late. A chill in the air, a little more than what one would expect for an April night. You’re trying your damnedest to see the top of this building, where he is. Like you would see him looking down, down the length of his nose, and almost all 92 stories of this thing, to your minuscule-insignificant- form at the bottom. The idea makes you tingle all over.

You run the pad of your thumb over the freshly filed-short edge of your nail, the one on your index finger. It wasn’t for him-your irregular, at-home manicure just happened to have… happened, the day before. He messaged today, a few hours ago. At dusk, the shadows long outside your apartment window. Asking you to come over, very nonchalant. Said he hasn’t seen you in a while, which is true. You didn’t get to see him often before, but after his press conference, you were lucky to get even a text. Not that you expected it, thought that he would- or wanted him- to prioritize you. He had kids and a divorce and this legal battle and his family.

No, definitely didn’t feel that pull in your chest, that need to see whatever he felt you deserved to. Cracking him open, like a door pulled apart by a crowbar. When you relaxed, the shards would almost fall right back into place.

Walking through the lobby, up to a desk, (that you found out was for the hotel in the building,) asking where the elevator for the penthouse was, (there were four,) you feel so out of place. Worried that you’re somehow going to put chips or scratches in the marble floor as you move across it. The elevator itself is spacious and luxurious, which you’re thankful for because it’s a long ride. Polished, mirror finish walls, so you can watch yourself anxiously pick at the sleeve of your jacket. Watch the numbers climb as you did, a sleek digital readout above the doors.

You’d heard he was unraveling. Confident and self-assured before, but now he’s backsliding. It made sense; there were awful, shameful, things being said, that hurt his credibility. Some of them by his own sister. (And you felt so fucking ridiculous, because this stuff would come out and you’d cringe, but you still felt bad for him. Remembered that vacant gaze that threatened to suck your very heart from your chest; a black hole.)

A crisp, modern ‘ding!’ and the doors slide open. You knew it would open right into his apartment, but it was still weird. Like you were intruding. You step into it, look down at the dark wood floors-those are definitely actual wood, not the cheap laminate (duh!)-and decide to take off your shoes. Straight off the elevators is a hallway, to the right. It opens up to a massive… living room? That feels insufficient, but you can’t think of the proper word for it.

Everything is cream, gray-blue, pops of dark wood. It’s not as sterile as other places, but it still doesn’t feel much like a home. The room is divided into four: a couple seating areas, a bar. A dining room, hidden by an obnoxiously large fireplace. You find him in on the L-shaped couch. Hunched over a round, glass-top coffee table from his seat on it. (It was clearly dragged closer, rug bunched up beneath it.) A scene from a movie; a rolled bill, a vehicle to bring the coke from the table into his nose. The hand on the opposite side is plugging that nostril, pushing the outside against his septum with his index finger. Kendall audibly sniffs, his brows furrowing a little bit as he does it.

You’re frozen in place. Mesmerized by it, by the way he sits up straight and looks up to the ceiling, savoring however it's making him feel. Intruding- you shouldn’t be here. You’ve come around after the drugs have been done, when he’s already chatty and touchy, pupils eating pretty hazel eyes. But it's on the table, and he cut the lines himself, and he’s wiping away whatever fell to his philtrum with his knuckle. It feels way too intimate, and you feel like you should leave, but another part of you wants to see more.

Kendall’s dragging the proximal section of his index finger under his nose, all of his fingers curling as his hand tilts back, and he looks at you without an ounce of surprise. If anything, he looks at you like you’re doing exactly what he wanted, standing just at the entrance of some room that was too damn big, holding your shoes in one hand, not sure where to put them. You look sweet, like you always do. Unfamiliar with it all, the skyscrapers and the money and the people.

And, of course, the drugs.

If you had to guess, you’d say there’s fourteen feet between you. He doesn’t stand to greet you, and you don’t move, either.

“Hey. How was the, uh, the ride here?” Perfunctory; he asked that every time you met him somewhere, every time he sent a car for you. Sometimes he seemed to care more than others. The words jumped off his tongue, rushed, for him. But it felt more like he was just trying to get it out of the way.

You bring your shoes over to rest in front of your thighs, laying them lengthwise, slipping as many fingers of your right hand into the collars as will fit beside your left. You try not to spend too long studying him, try not to find weird patterns in it all. He’s wearing all black, a thick sweater with the sleeves pulled halfway up his forearms, (lean and spotted with the occasional mole or freckle,) slacks that pull taut over his thighs, and hang perfectly creased from his knees. Dressed dark, like when you first met. Big hands hang loosely between his parted legs, and you make it a point to not linger there, eyes darting back up to his.

“Yeah, it was… okay. Y’know. Pretty normal.”

He’s looking up at you from where he’s still perched on the edge of the couch, the only real giveaway that he’d just done something being the way he taps his finger against the back of the opposite hand. Incessant, maybe a little faster than he meant to. That- as you thought of it, privately, stupid, not at all attractive- pinky ring he wears sometimes feels heavy and cool on his skin.

“So, did I, like, come here too early, or…?”

There’s that smile again, a mischievous little v. A secret.

“No, you, uh, got here right on time, actually.”

Kendall always said some shit that sent you reeling. Something weird. He either thought very hard about what he was going to say, or not at all. You scratch the skin just behind your right ear, leaning your head into it, eyes narrowed as you think.

“O-kay?”

He moves to cut the cocaine into smaller, shorter lines, and you watch, mouth falling open, arm relaxing to allow your hand to curl into a loose fist in front of your throat. The cogs were turning, and you didn’t like how the teeth were fitting together.

“I want you to try this.”

A little tug, not even a full rotation on the handle of the fishing reel.

“The coke?”

Stops dead in his tracks, the heavy, metal card coming to a halt midway through dividing the aforementioned drug. He looks at you like you’re fucking stupid, a nasty habit of his, and you scoff, looking at him like he’s fucking insane.

“Kendall-“ you never call him Ken, not even when you’re being soft with him. You’d never admit to it, but it was deferential. And he’d never admit to it, but it hurt.

“What? I know you want to,” he’s being playful about it, singing the words, like he’s asking you to do something benign, like fucking- Skinny dipping. Smoking weed. Drinking some liquor out of a parents’ cabinet. You try to ignore the almost tactile, magnetic feeling, bringing you toward him. Toward what he’s asking of you. Toward what you sadly want.

“No, you don’t know, actually.”

He rotates slightly to face you better. His eyes are hard. Knowing.

“Yes, I do. Come on. Fucking, get over here and snort this. I wanna see how big your pupils get.”

What?

Butterflies, heat seeping downward, you tuck your bottom lip beneath your teeth. Skimming just beneath the water's surface; trembling with the effort to stay submerged. To say no.

“They’re small lines. It’ll be fine. I promise.”

He promises. You guessed he would know, how much was too much, when to stop. He could be a dick, but he’d never let you get hurt. (Right?) Rationalizing it; just once would be fine. Lots of people did it casually. It might be fun. It could be a bonding experience. You might understand him more. It might impress him. You’re gripping your shoes so tight that the fabric squeaks. Looking everywhere but him, brows furrowed in thought, knowing that the only thing that would sway you is the way he looks.

Fuck. It's painful. It literally hurts. The curiosity is pulling at your chest. Despite yourself, you look to him, like he could give you the answer, (though it really wasn’t a question.) You see the way he’s still watching you, his breathing a little heavy from the way his heart is surely racing, chest rising and falling, pressing against the confines of his shirt just enough to be seen.

It all crumbles. Your resolve, your posture, literally slumping in defeat.

“Fine.”

You move to close the distance, and it feels so much wider than it looked. Kendall looks downright victorious, eyes glittering with pride and excitement. Sitting next to him, placing your shoes on the floor and flexing your hand from its tense hold, and trying not to touch his knee with yours. As if all your thoughts would transfer through diffusion, and he’d jump away. Really know.

Nervously, you wipe your hands on your thighs, attempting to still the shaking. The proximity lets you smell him; a spicy, woodsy cologne, the crispness of his soap, the sweetness of cigarette smoke. Familiar, and sorely missed.

“So, uh-“ a breathless, stunted laugh, “how do I-“

Long fingers reach out to pick up the rolled bill-you see the familiar orange and blue of the 100- holding it delicately as he hands it to you. Looking to him with an anxious little smile, and he gives you a patronizing one back. It’s almost soothing.

“You just hold one end up to your nose,” you lean forward over the table, thick clear glass, that reflects the image of the powder back at you. “Its easier if you plug the other nostril,” he supplies, and you feel kind of stupid for asking him to coach you, cause, like. Who doesn’t know how to do this? Still, he sounds pretty while he does, voice deep, enunciating and hitting the consonants in this really satisfying way. And, unbeknownst to you, he’s getting a very sick feeling of glee talking you through it. Heart hammering against his chest, too excited to see what you’ll do.

“Then you just inhale. Quickly.”

Nodding, trying to look confident, but your hearts going so fast you wonder if any amount would kill you. You bring the hundred up to your right nostril, plug the left, line up- then pull away, sitting up straight. Roll your shoulders back, take a deep breath to steady yourself.

“Okay. Yeah, okay.”

Like jumping straight into the pool to get the shock of the cold over with, you do it. Fast. And then recoil, face scrunching up at the sting, a floral scent leaking through the pain. Kendall claps you on the back, like you’re bros or something, says something to the effect of ‘atta girl,’ but you’re just trying to right yourself. Wondering why your heart is still racing, when you did the thing that scared you.

Duh. Fucking, duh. That’s how it's supposed to feel, dumbass.

In a way similar to what he did earlier, you look at the ceiling, eyes fluttering as they make their way. Not out of appreciation, though. Just trying to feel it. His hand rubs over your upper back in wide swipes, and the touch is searing. You definitely got what you wanted, ‘cause he is impressed. Beaming, eyes all over you, taking in the way you shake, the quickening of your breathing, the way you wet your lips and swallow hard.

Up in the air, dangling on his hook.

You practically toss the money onto the coffee table, needing to get your jacket off. Now. Fastened with big metal buttons that feel like ice against your fingertips. He watches you fumble with them, and without a thought reaches out to help, scoffing, like you fucking asked. Like he doesn’t know the way it cuts through the drugs to almost stop your heart. Your hands just sort of hang in the air as he does it, as you watch him, fingers nimble as they break each button’s hold. Nauseous, self-conscious at your ragged breathing when he makes quick work of the fastenings over your chest, holding your breath so you might not push into him.

“You don’t have to- you don’t have to fucking-“

But you don’t move to stop him, and he grabs the fabric under your bust, bunching it up to lift the hem away from your hips so his hands don’t have to be in the junction of your thighs to undo the last one.

Oh. Okay.

Mercifully, he doesn’t push it off your shoulders, too. You do it yourself, feeling infantilized, letting it pool on the cushion behind you. You realize you still have a sweater on beneath it, an itchy wool mix, and you feel a little flash of anger. Short nails scratch deep through the material on your arm, and you turn a bit to face him better.

“Well? How does it feel?”

It's like everything bubbles to the surface when you see his face up close, the lights catching his eyes in this perfect way that makes the golden brown and flecks of green shine in a thin line around his pupils. Unabashed, your own pupils like saucers, letting in more light, more him. Sweeping over the straight line of his nose, the five o’clock shadow, and where it's darker above his upper lip. Pink lips, (pinker than normal, surely flushed from the drugs,) that look absurdly soft and plush, that you’ve seen stick together just a bit when he goes to speak.

“Uh, it, uh, it feels-“

Those very lips pull upward smugly, and your eyes flit to his, caught. But he doesn’t seem phased, just makes sure you’re still watching, turns his head, and wets the tip of his finger before dipping it in one of the lines, making a little crater in the soft powder. You squeeze your wrist tightly, and try not to think of the way his tongue glistened, how soft it’d feel. Or how firm it could.

Fingers then curl around your chin, pulling down softly, and you hesitate, but offer little resistance as he tugs a little harder, tells you to open your mouth, his voice low and raspy.

His finger slips under your upper lip, the delicate skin catching on it, lifting to reveal your teeth, and presses against the hard ridge of your gums. Warm and slimy beneath the broad, squared pad of his fingertip. Kendall rubs the coke in, tingly numbness left in his wake. You’re looking at each other so intently, his eyes half-lidded as he watches what he’s doing, thick lashes creating a dark band. You lean into his touch, eager for more, for something else, fingers inside other places, wetter and more forgiving.

The air is humid between you as he pulls his finger from your mouth, and you can’t help but look down at it, see the shine of spit. Literally biting your tongue, to stop yourself from asking him to force as many digits into you as he can. He takes in your pensive face, wonders what you’re keeping from him. He has ideas, obviously. Suggestions, even.

"Do you want more?”

Didn’t you just have more? You chew on your lip, take stock of how you feel. There’s a bitter taste in your mouth; you can barely feel your teeth where they dig into soft skin. Everything else is still very much there, the heat and thrum of your heart all over. The anxiety. This itchy need.

And want. Greediness, for him, and more. Just to see. Seeking knowledge.

“Is that… safe?”

One of Kendall’s broad hands rests on your arm, a firm and reassuring press. You look up at him with big, glossy eyes, and he feels his own need that he needs to scratch. The other side of the coin from yours.

“If you do just a, fucking, little bit, then, yeah.”

He drops his hand so he can turn away, towards the coffee table, and you miss his touch and full attention so much you could cry. The credit card clacks against the polished surface, and you lock your fingers to stop from touching him. You wished you had no inhibitions. You wished you could cross the threshold that he had, touch him in ways friends shouldn’t. That’s what this was supposed to be, getting over whatever childish bullshit kept you from honesty. Get it out, get it over with. Maybe the drugs will smooth it over, mixed with water into a paste to fill the cracks.

Kendall cuts bigger lines, and smaller. Thinks of the weight of that, what it means. What he was doing to you. What you were letting him do. A touch, a look, a change in tone. He’d sat at the water's edge, hook beneath the surface. A novice; everyone else’s coolers were full. Plenty of fish to be eaten, but he was about to starve. Weeks since a catch. The sun was low on the horizon, glittering red and orange against the water between the shadows of the trees.

A fish on the end of his line, hungry for the bait. A fight so weak the pole barely bows. Then, he has you, the tiniest, saddest, most-insignificant little thing he’d ever seen.

Gasping and wriggling in his palm. He has all the power, to let you have the water. To eat you.

Learned behaviors.

He inhales a long line for himself, thinking too damn much. Burns throughout his nose and sinuses, but he doesn’t do much to show it, just scrunches his nose, licks along his upper incisors. He feels hot and reckless again, heart racing against his breastbone to propel him forward, into action. Pushes his sleeves back up around his elbows, and you watch, see the way his fingers grip the fabric, the way muscles tense under tanned skin. He unrolls the hundred deftly, folds it over lengthwise to try and stop it rolling back in on itself. Then, he scoops some of the cocaine up in the valley created by the crease. Turns to you again, and you bring your knee up on the couch to face him better. With his left hand he makes a loose fist, thumb resting on top of his index finger, creating a nice flat surface to sprinkle some of the drug onto.

“Here.”

You’re looking at him with those fucking eyes again. He’s almost overcome with jealousy; the boldness of it.

“Um, off your-“

“Uh-huh,” drawn out, a little impatient, wondering why you were acting weird when his finger had just been in your mouth.

No big deal. Totally normal. What was snorting some coke off each other’s hands between friends? You lean down a little, maintaining eye contact to see if he’s joking. Kendall raises his hand a bit to make it easier, thinks thoughts that are only natural when you’re high, and him. The upper ridge of your cupid's bow touches the back of his hand, first, and you jump back, readjusting the angle. He wonders if you’ll reach out and grab his arm, maneuver it down so you can be above a little more, but instead you just sit a little straighter, and he knows then that you aren’t high enough to be fucking honest with him. (Maybe after this you would be.) The hard tip of your nose presses into that delicate skin, right next to where the webbing between his thumb and index finger begins. Like last time, you do it fast; your lips brush his wrist, you don’t get it all.

It hurts worse this time. It's all worse. Your ears ring, your heart beats so fast you wondered if there was any equation in the world that could calculate just how fast. Your hand reaches out to grasp his upper arm, holding on tight in an attempt to bring you back to earth. Eyes squeezed shut, feeling like you can’t breathe for a second before the heavy, panting breaths come. When you’re finally convinced you won’t die, you open your eyes and look at him again. Take him in as a whole, from widow’s peak to slightly dimpled chin. Freckles, shine on his face. Nothing in the way; the wall is gone.

You kiss him so hard your noses crush. It hurts, and you pull away with a huff of laughter before going back in. Hand cradling his jaw, index finger resting over his ear. Rain after a long and humid day; it felt like a release. Relieving to do it, and to know that he wants it, too. Kissing you back just as feverishly, hand sliding along the side of your neck to slip his fingers into the hair at the base of your skull. Gripping tight, pulling your lips from his just long enough for you to gasp in excitement, repositioning you so that he has control. Little puffs of air from your nose against his cheek, while he slips his tongue into your mouth.

Every sensation is intensified, brand new. Sends a fresh bolt of anticipation through you. The taste of his mouth and breath, pulling back just to feel each other’s lips again. Wanting to savor it but wanting to go forward and see more. His nose is tucked into your cheek; he can smell your skin, feel the warmth of your flush. It's messy and sloppy but it feels a little sweet to him, because it's you. An air of tenderness, a care that he did not deserve.

Kendall pulls you by your hair to lay you back on the couch cushions, torso following yours, lips still pressed together, perfect pressure. Legs are pulled up to be level with bodies. One of his thighs slips between yours, and the barest amount of friction makes you sigh. You’re so wet, the muscle of his leg pushes sticky cool fabric against your cunt. You don’t miss how hard he is against your hip, and the further confirmation of reciprocation makes you feel weak, makes your heart flutter even more. Somehow.

It feels too cute. Too virginal- innocent. Like the heavy breathing and hurried pulses are from nerves, from inexperience. You feel empty. You want everything he can possibly give you. You want him to take his shirt off so you can see the chest that will sometimes strain against buttons on crisp white dress shirts; you want him to keep it on so it feels even more hurried. You want him to touch your clit, with his fingers or his tongue or his fucking nose. You want him to slap you, your face, your pussy. You want him to say something so fucking mean it makes you cry.

He slips a hand under your sweater, presses against the soft skin of your stomach just enough for it to dimple. It's hot; he can feel your pulse against his palm, rapid and hard. The little gap created by his wrist lets cool air in, and it feels so fucking good. You arch your back just enough to push against his hand, pulling your hand away so you can grab his. Kendall’s eyebrows raise in surprise as your fingers dig into his wrist, as you use the grip to rotate his hand and push his fingertips below the waist of your jeans.

And he doesn’t move. Let’s it rest, pulls his head back so he can look down at you with a restrained smile. That was audacious, honest, real.

“Kendall, fucking-“

He applies pressure to that sensitive portion of lower stomach, letting his closed-mouth grin spread across his face. Playful; Duchenne. Boyish.

“Come on. Please?”

Using both hands to unbutton, unzip, just to be faster. Because, despite the teasing, he really did want you wrapped around him. Wondered just how wet you’d be, how tight you’d be, how soft. Once his hand is beneath the soft fabric (not expensive or lacy or mesh; he’s kind of shocked at the idea that you didn’t wear anything special on the off chance something might happen,) he doesn’t mess around. Sinks his middle finger between your lips to press against your clit.

There isn’t much room, between his thigh and the jeans, so you scoot away a bit, part your legs to make some. His hand follows, uses the spread to press his index and ring fingers into your vulva on either side of his middle finger. Swirls them; they glide so easily you feel a little pang of embarrassment. It’s already so much, senses heightened. Feels like he’d been doing it for a while, halfway there. He presses harder, and you let out a startled little moan.

Then, he’s slipping lower. His inclination is to tease, to dip his fingertip in and see how you react. But he sees the way you’re getting so excited at just the prospect, lip bitten white, eyes looking down to see whatever you can of his hand in your pants, willing him to do it. So, he does. Two fingers, all at once, until his knuckles are flush with your skin. You make a shocked sound, like a scoff, wiggling your hips at the stretch. He seeks out, and finds too fast, that rough spot inside you. Curls his fingers and presses deep against it, so precise that your knees wobble, you groan.

He starts to fuck you with them, slow but rough. Exacting. Your head tips back; it’s perfect. You wanted this so bad, for so long. Thought about it all the time. Stared at his hands and studied the width of his fingers and tried to imagine just how much it’d ache.

“I still can’t believe you actually fucking did that.”

Dragging your eyes up to his, trying not to think of the fact that the oft-mentioned coil is already beginning to tighten.

Right. The coke.

Another breathless chuckle. Anxiety surges in your chest. He sees it- quickens his pace to make your eyes flutter.

“Um, well-“

“But you would do anything I told you to.”

It was like you were trying to hide behind a piece of straw. Of fucking course he could see you, see through you. He pressed a little and you gave. He pulled, and you followed, on a leash. Anything, he could say anything and you’d do it. Let him fuck your face. Polish his shoes with your tongue. See how long you could hold your breath underwater, (because he’s holding you there.) If he gave an ounce of affection in return, that’s all you would need. This, well this was almost too generous.

Slower now, more sensual, long drags against your g-spot that made you whimper. You kinda hope his sleeve will fall down his arm, and rub your pubic mound raw.

“Is it too much?” It’s not sweet by any means. Either way, he plans on giving more.

“N-no. It’s-“ He doesn’t even let you finish, just starts fingering you almost viciously, digits hooking over and over to pull and pull it out of you. Kendall couldn’t remember the last time he wanted to make someone cum this much. He thought that, maybe, if he gave you something, if he gave you a few things, it’d make up for all the taking.

“God.”

You’re so close- he can tell. Your hips jump up to try and meet his fingers, and he has to pin them down so he can be more precise. It practically makes you melt- the manhandling. Every ounce of heat, all the buzzing, itching want, pooled in one spot, ready to pop. Quick bursts of moans, every exhale, thighs shaking and hands grasping. At his shoulder, feeling the flex of his trapezius as he holds you down.

You get so tense you forget the need for air, big pauses between these tiny breaths.

“Breathe,” honey? Baby? Girl? Just a little something, to bridge the gap.

He sounds strained, like he’s fighting against you. It tightens more, impossibly. Then finally, finally, clamps down and holds, and as it lets go-

“Fuck!”

Slides into pulsing, almost gripping so tight he can’t move his fingers. Frantic breaths, patchy moans. Kendall feels you soften further around his digits, thinks about how perfect you’d feel around his cock. And Christ, do you want it. You hadn’t even fully come down from your orgasm before you were thinking of the next, of cumming around something more substantial. It’d be so easy, too- always so quick to after the first one, and even quicker after the next. A dam breaking. Raining harder.

His fingers slip from you, watery strings of wetness between them. And before you can tell him not to, tell him to wipe it on you so it could be dirty and messy and dry down flaky on your skin, he’s sucking it off them. Inhaling deeply. Groaning a little. Really enjoying it. It makes your mouth water; it makes you want to reciprocate. Some other time, hopefully.

You sit up a bit, reach forward and grab the waistband of his slacks, pulling him forward. They feel crisp and starched (do they starch them?) He almost wants to stop you. Is this too far? Is this unfair? You were both high, but there was a clear imbalance here. And he was afraid, that if they kept going, he might lean into it. He’s sat up on his knees above you, and you straighten further, slipping your fingers deeper into his pants to get a better grip on them, nails smooth and scorching against his skin. They slide to meet in the center, grab the flaps of the fly, and you look up at him through your lashes. Eyes dark. Demanding.

“Fuck me?”

Looking down his nose, a strange mix of emotions. You’re too good for him; he shouldn’t even be bothering with you. He knows what you want, and he always has. Pushing each other, but he does a little harder and you fall back. Scramble to be at his feet, and stay there. It feels good to do it. To see a flash of hurt across your face, and the knowledge that your blood runs hot from it is incidental.

He grabs your face, pinky ring digging into the ridge of your jaw, unforgiving. His index finger and thumb press deep into your cheeks; he can feel the upward sweep of your cheekbones. His palm squishes your lips back against your teeth. Your eyelids droop a bit, savoring the pressure. Slowly, you work the button through the hole, testing him.

Kendall slaps you. Really fucking hard. No build-up to it or anything. It’s loud, the metal on his finger feels like it burst blood vessels. He kept his fingers spread a bit, messily, for extra coverage. A thick thumb hits your nose so hard your septum aches. He follows through, too, doesn’t let his hand bounce back once it makes contact. It's a miracle you don't moan.

Just as you’re about turn your head to face him again, working your jaw, his fingers are digging into your cheeks again, so much rougher than last time. Pushing your head back, eliciting a pained noise from you.

“Lay back, if you want me so fucking bad.”

He shoves so hard your neck hurts from the force. You blink up at him, but do as he says, hands pulling away and moving to the place where the cushions meet, tucking your fingers in nervously.

“No,” grabbing a wrist roughly, jerking upward. Awash with shame, hurting for the pride you inspired in him earlier.

“Take your pants off.”

Nodding hurriedly, hands shaking and unstable like they were before. But this time he doesn’t help, backs off the couch so he can do the same. He can feel your eyes all over him; you wanted to do it, but he looks pretty doing it himself. Trying to take it all in, in case this was it. A drug-fueled fuck. You’re distracted, going slow, and he glances your way reproachfully, from where his head is tucked down to watch himself. So, you rush, finally getting the zipper down, hooking your thumbs beneath everything, jeans and underwear. Pushing it down your thighs, watching as he does the same, takes himself into his hand.

You could die. You could burst into flames right then and would be no hotter. Surface of the sun; lightning, even. Paradoxically, you’re frozen, fabric around your knees. Your mouth hung open slightly as he strokes himself a couple times. Remembering the shitty estimates of the size of his hands, and trying to figure out how big he is. Not huge; he didn’t look impossible. But it’d be tight.

The utter lack you felt, (inside, physically,) had you returning to the task at hand, even more eager. Pushing your clothes off your feet, tossing them maybe a little dramatically. Kendall is stepping out of his own to move toward you, and he does hear where the fabric hits the floor a little too far away. And it softens him a little, endears you to him, hurts his heart knowing that you want him that bad. (He, also, feels a little cocky about it.)

Part of him wants to take his time, get a good look at you. Use his fingers to spread you, see parts of you he knows you never thought he would. It was only a matter of time. Galaxies on a collision course; irrevocable changes. Parts of you sent careening into outer space. Was there anyone in the andromeda galaxy to know it would happen? He barely even has to nudge your legs apart, hand just sort of resting atop your thigh as you do it yourself.

He leans over you, and yeah, it’s on a couch, and there are stimulants coursing through both of your veins, but it’s missionary. It’s too intimate, you’re looking up at him with so much want and affection, as if you can’t see what’s wrong with him. That he’s an addict, a fuck-up. That he hurts everyone around him. That he killed someone. He was so sure, that anyone could look into his eyes and read his thoughts and know.

Things keep moving, despite it. He reaches down with a hand to line himself up. He can’t see, but his head just happens to press against your clit in a way that makes you jump. You feel like you’re too excited, and it was probably a mixture of the coke and months of nursing a pathetic crush on him. So hurt by his cruelty, but so enamored with his praise.

Finally, he’s pressing into you, and the stretch makes you whimper, makes your legs part further, hands moving to clutch at his sides. (And your hands are met with fabric, again, and you feel that same anger go through you, slipping away just as fast as it had come on.) His hand rests at the juncture of your hip and thigh, gripping tight, trying to steady himself because it’s always a lot when you’re high like this.

Hips meet, and your head falls back at the feeling, letting out a groan of relief. His lower stomach presses against your clit in a way that makes your skin buzz. You can feel him in your chest; it almost makes you anxious. It’s so much. You open your eyes up to look at him, and his lips are flattened together slightly, he’s almost glaring at you. It feels like your heart is inflating in your chest. He sees you capitulating and it pisses him off.

His hand presses against your sternum to push you further into the couch. Uses his other hand to tilt your hips up, gets up on his knees to rest your ass against the tops of his thighs. No preamble, no easing into it. A rough, unrelenting pace, that has you wincing and gasping in surprise.

The noises you make are almost shameful. Choked sounds of impact, moaning like you’ve been deprived of it for years. You’ll keep realizing what you’re doing, and biting your lip to stifle some of them. You look up to him and see the way his face is pinched in concentration, his eyes watching where your hips meet, the way his mouth will fall open and his brows will wobble like he’s restraining himself, and you feel the need to, too. Clapping your hand over your mouth, hurried breaths making noise over your fingers. And it kind of does it for you. Makes it feel wrong. (As if it wasn’t already.)

Kendall glances up to see you doing it, and he gets a fistful of hair at the scalp, pulls so hard you yelp.

“You were so fucking desperate, and now you’re, what? Embarrassed?”

Your hand is gripping the back of the couch. You want to touch him to appease him, but feel like you aren’t allowed.

“No, I-“ You really are trying to sound serious, but it just sounds breathless and needy.

“Not getting what you want? Am I not being mean enough for you?”

God. You really were transparent. Glass, with all your thoughts printed out in neat script and pressed between the panes. Him knowing hurt; him indulging it made you want him forever.

“N-no.”

He’s stunned, honestly. That you would want more. Less, so, that he did too. Wanted to see how far until you’d break. If you even would. What all you would give to him. His hand slides up your chest, wraps around your throat, and you sigh like it’s perfect. Your knees shake and you clench around him. He makes his own muffled sound, lets out a huff of air, and it makes you ache for him.

“Why do you want me so bad, huh? Is it the money? Need someone powerful to put you in your place?”

So heavy. A whirlwind of emotions; you want to kiss him, you want to tell him he’s so pretty and perceptive and smart, but he’s wrong. That he’s everything. You don’t want him to stop.

“Kendall-“

“You’d let me do anything,” like you needed reminded, “let me drag you down, let me ruin your life. Because you’re so fucking needy.”

Jesus. You wanted to look away; he was right, being proven so every second. Because you were right there, shaking and electric and scorched. It was wrong. He needed you, and you were being selfish. Taking.

“Please?”

Jam-packed with so much emotion it filled him, made him sick with it. Needing him to be nicer to himself, but meaner to you. Like that made any fucking sense. He needs you to cum, to see, to give it to you. The world served up on a platter, if he could get it off his fucking back.

Your lips are already parted, so it’s easy enough for him to slip his fingers inside, press your tongue down. It’s the hand that was in you earlier, and there’s still a lingering taste of yourself, of his spit, the salt of his skin. You do reach out to touch him, then, hand slipping underneath the hem of his sweater. Fingers resting in the groove of his spine. His skin is so soft, hot. Maybe you’re asking too much. Maybe you’re hurting him. He had rubbed your back earlier, in this casual way, like it was nothing. He probably didn’t have some stupid epiphany, then, like you were now. Didn’t feel the life thrumming in your body, and realize that you were just a person.

He spits in your mouth, so disdainfully, and it’s almost tragic how fast you come apart. Clenching over him, so tight he can’t help but groan, (which makes it more intense, makes it all so much worse,) fingers digging into his back, crying out with each wave. Feeling the electricity spark along your nerves.

And as it goes, it feels like something’s pulling behind your ribs. Tugging on your heart, or poking at a bubble, trying to puncture it. Behind your closed eyelids, your eyes sting. Your throat feels tight. He pulls his fingers from your mouth just as it pops, too much. Every sense too alive, brain too wired, emotions too high. Tears slip over your cheeks, your lip wobbles as you let out this pathetic noise, mouth now closed to try and muffle it.

Kendall sees it. There’s no mistaking the way your face falls. He rests his hand on your cheek, goes to stop, and you huff wetly.

“Don’t.”

It was petulant. Okay? He complies, regains a steady, (but slower,) pace.

You slump into the couch. Liquefying, pooling into the creases of the fabric, slipping between the cushions, dripping onto the floor. Still so sensitive, crying out like you’re right there again, but softer, milder. He’s not sure what to think. He finds you so pretty like this it’s unbearable. The beginnings of a bruise along your jaw, from his ring. Lashes stuck together and glossy. Skin flushed. Pink and wet. So pliant. Completely vulnerable.

And honest. Giving him everything.

“I love you,” painfully heartfelt.

Water over him. God. He didn’t deserve it. He should have to die of thirst. Of hunger. In the desert, vultures circling overhead. Should’ve never been able to sit down by the water and wait.

Your hands are on him, cradling his face, pulling him down to kiss you. It should be slow, it should be tender and gentle. But he won’t let it be. Like you were, earlier. Forceful, desperate. As if, if he pulled away, took a breath, you’d rescind. You’d take it all back. Selfish. If you were going to give it to him, he wanted it all.

Now he’s losing his composure. Brow crumpled, moaning behind his lips. Slipping his hand beneath that stupid shitty cheap sweater to work its way under your (stupid, shitty, cheap,) bra, to feel your pebbled nipple, to see how soft the skin of your breast was. You jolt and arch into the touch, and he bites your lip. He’s getting close; he kind of wants you to cum again. It’d probably be easy, it doesn’t seem like you ever went back down to the base of the hill. Moves his hand down to find your clit so swollen, and you jump at that, too, trying to clutch at the short hair on the back of his head. You cried from the last one and he’s still giving you more.

Kendall’s right. It doesn’t take much, he could probably (probably,) count on both hands how many times he circled his fingers before you were falling again. So sweet, fingers slipping down the back of his neck, molding to him, yielding. You look up to him with so much heat in your eyes it burns. It could go on forever.

It can’t, really. It really is a lot. He looks down where his hips press to yours again. Sees himself disappear; sees you take him. A hand finds your waist, trying to steady himself. You still want him so badly. It’s like each time you see him is the first. He’s shaking; you’re flattered. Grinning like an idiot, and hoping he doesn’t notice. Watching the way his chest heaves, the way his bottom lip hangs to reveal his teeth. Eyes closed, hips going slower like he really wants it to last. You can’t help but tighten around him at the sight, and he gasps, spits out a startled ‘fuck,’ before he’s pulling you down over him, fucking you so harshly you’re stunned.

“Jesus,” it comes out of you so shakily, you almost laugh.

Clutching the armrest behind you, riding it out. Eyes glued to him cause you just have to see. His scrape over you, taking in every inch of you, too, the way you’re still breathing heavily. Can hear over the pounding of his heart in his ears, the way you’re still making eager, hurried sounds. Your eyes meet and his immediately fall closed. Finished. The heel of his hand presses into your lower ribs. Black sleeves have fallen down his arms, and you miss the sight of all his scattered moles. Slow again, moaning softly, and you’re practically giddy that he’s doing it. His hips stutter, press against yours in ways that make you see stars. And then, he stops.

“God. Fuck.” Weak, low, broken. He feels light-headed, all the air from his lungs.

It’s bittersweet. He lays his head on your chest and almost forgets. What he’s done, what he did to you. Drugs, dragging people down. Metaphorically. Literally. He doesn’t say a word, lies there motionless. Listens to your heartbeat, slower than it was before. Studies the fibers in the couch. He can’t say it back. He wants to so badly and he can’t.

You can feel it. The mood shift. It’s a mix for you, too. You know that what Kendall did was wrong. But, you feel fulfilled. (Encompassed; eaten.) You kind of don’t regret it. Know you should, at least the cocaine, but you don’t. It was fun. You did bond with him. Understanding him, though? Another good yank, almost making a hole in the door. (In a house, engulfed in flames; you’re trying to get a door open to go deeper.)

“That was, uh. That was a lot,” it’s a little playful, but he doesn’t laugh.

“Uh-huh.”

Muffled. You can hear how his cheek is pressed against your clothes. It hurts and warms your heart all at once.

“I think the coke was too much.”

“Mhmm.”

It’s not dismissive. Just distant. He almost sounds sleepy, if you didn’t know any better. You run your fingers through his hair, and he can hear the way your heart races a little at it. He huffs through his nose, the corners of his lips turn up a bit, just enough for him to feel.

You press your lips to the top of his head, not kissing, just resting there. Breathe deeply, smell the powdery, masculine scent of his hair product.

“I’m not naïve, you know.”

He tenses, not sure what you’re getting at.

“You don’t have to tell me everything, but I do want to help you.”

Murmured into his hair- he feels your breath against his scalp. He wants to melt. Downward, swallowed into the earth, every part of him recycled.

“I don’t think you can.”

Beneath them was an art structure, 150 feet tall, closed from the public because too many people jumped off of it. Sometimes, Kendall would stand in the elevator, on the way up to his penthouse, and think that someone should close that off, too.

[hellonerf]

ive been getting kinda annoyed with face family lately, how ppl always seem to make france and england this perfect lovey dovey doting parent duo, and i wanted to make Lore Accurate™ human au where ame and cana are so neglected they end up raising each other, alone and end up so painfully domestic there's some weird romantic feelings building

i understand the sentiment, i don't mind face family for the fun, but hetalia humor-ness is like. giving the feeling if they were a family they wouldn't be functioning lol. and they wouldn't! i've read a couple dysfunctional face fics that pleased me though, so i can't say i've been tired of it

if you don't mind me derailing, i've had specific human scenarios in my mind sometimes... with a kind-of face family in the backdrop. somehow i like when even cana and ame are finding it hard to get along under their roof. they have such diff approaches to personal conflict... but in the end im like sooo sweetened by them being on each others side. (in my mind this is where the kindof. idk. anti-conflict is. whatever i should call it. the idea of promising to be the opposite of. a divorced couple LOL. lets enter a loop together) fruk is like eternally divorced to me in my mind lol... either on-and-off or like so many conflict that they just should be. one in my mind had france leave pretty early on, and the house keep straining. eventually ame left on his own somehow anyhow(runaway or something?). then england and cana are the only people left in the house. maybe inspired by however hetalia nationverse goes lol its captivating to me. whatever they're destined to do and feel... i like when cana goes to find ame.

but going to your mentioning again of caname ending up dedicatedly alone... can't say i don't like that either (>_<) i like the isolation... like reaaally isolated i think. maybe not physically but i dont mind physically too! i'd love a kind of isolated domestic dread lol... fweh... comfort in unease(suddenly thinking about yuri ocs). i mentioned caname in like an isolated countryside setting before, and it still makes me feel fond. a kind of idle, mundane day-to-day. idyllic... in those cases i just tend to remove france and england from the equation entirely tho lol... put some random parent for them i dont care 🤦‍♂️🤦‍♂️🤦‍♂️ england and france could have a different use to me. (^_^) in the case where there is france and england... i've imagined it before. but there's usually extreme circumstances in my head that causes them to end up just two in the end... (sorry francis sorry arthur) maybe they could just run off somewhere forever. hitchhike... who knows... north america is so far...

[acourtofthought]

Look I ship Elriel but I would be fine with Elucien. I don't really care that much I'm just tired of waiting and want a book YESTERDAY.

Ik we likely won't agree on who Elain ends up with, but can we at least agree on who she WON'T end up with?

*Cough*

The TAMLAIN shippers? They are crazy. Please tell me you can at least agree with that one? Idk your stance on Tamlin, but even theories have a limit. I don't know in what world Elain would end up with her sister's ex who literally trapped her in a house 🙄

Why do people hate elain so much that they want her to end up alone when she has not one but two love interests at the moment, or they want her to end up with a guy SJM literally called an asshole several times? weird weird weird !

The Tamlain ship is very disturbing to me too. These are HEA romance books and that HEA does not just mean a HEA for the main couple. I truly do not think Sarah would write the story of Tamlin and Elain, where their pairing would cause so much hurt for the others who are supposed to have found their happily ever afters. Tamlin joining Elain to celebrate Nyx's birthday and Rhys and Feyre's house? Tamlin, having verbally and physically assaulted Lucien, ending up with the mate of the male who tried to help TAMLIN'S court to the point he performed the Rite in place of Tamlin with the women who s.xually assaulted him? Tamlin having terrified Nesta and Elain by breaking down their door and kidnapping Feyre, then causing Feyre trauma? I do understand the debates, where Tamlin was also in a bad place and Rhys and Feyre both let him continuing believing in Rhys's lies, however that doesn't change Feyre's perception of the past. She feels Tamlin caused her mental harm and while I can understand the nuances behind his actions, she should still not be forced to have him as a part of family get togethers. I don't think Tamlin is evil and I do think there is a hea for him somewhere out there but when the author is on record as calling Tamlin a douche, that he sucks, and calls Lucien one of her favorite characters, I think the Tamlain ship is going down the exact river the Brycriel shippers are now sailing.

[maria-eve-falcon]

Finally found a blog that can sympathize with Joe. Love Taylor and sure they are both going through some terrible heartache. But I think this impact Joe the most. We are in no place to speak on someone else’s mental health but at least we know he has anxiety. And rumors of him withdrawing from her leading up to tour, the noticeable weight gain and baggy eyes in movie premieres, I think there’s more than we know.

I’ve been through a withdrawal period before because I was feeling like I was a failure. Lots of restless nights, weight gain, self isolation and feeling worthless. I took a break from everyone to heal and learn to love myself again. So I can kinda relate to him why he wanted a break. Everyone cope differently and we cannot fault them for how they chose to do it. We all have our own demons to fight.

We do not know what goes behind closed doors. But based on facts given, I am comfortable to say he is a gentle, sweet, caring soul, does not read into tabloids, brought up loyal and kind by his mother(according AOTGYLB). Never used her name to gain fame and is a very private person. How can people say he intentionally leaked this out? The breakup is the last thing he would ever want to go public.

If he cared about the imbalance in their fame status, he would be going for commercial movies instead, not indie type films. I just don’t like how he is being portrayed as a person through these news outlet. It’s very dehumanizing to do.

Ikr! thanks for all this. I remember his quote about wanting to be seen as a human.

You are right. His newest pics are really bad. Like his hair is weird, he has defs gained weight campared to his physic just some months ago.

Tbh, the biggest thing is Tay has her fans, her songs, her friends and family with her.

Joe is somewhere else far away from home as speculated and maybe before the breakup, means he's been alone when it happened and is rn . He has to change his musical taste, even his fav band might be hurting him . His friends and family are away. All he has is some co workers he doesn't know very well. Idk if that's good, or bad. Cause how much you'd want nothing to remind you of the absence of your loved one, you just kinda need someone who knew your relationship with them.

Also about the GOD DAMN ARTICLES. It's impossible trust me. And why would they do that? Likeeeeee his team should be outta questions imo cause well, his team is too lowkey to do that. like the possibility is just 0.001%

Moreover, we should support them both. The breakup is the wort thing that could happen to them and it is done.

So instead of blaming and hating, we just need to support them. Imo. This is that type of a break up you can't blame anyone.

All we can do is love and pray and be positive and wish for the best.

[eemcintyre]

Re-watching and re-evaluating "M:I - Dead Reckoning (Part One)"

A long, long time ago, somewhere in the Internet ether, I had promised to review this movie. well here it is if anyone still cares

Still think the introductory scene in the submarine was a bit long, but it didn't feel as long as it did the first time when I was foaming at the mouth to see Tom and only Tom for the first time in a new movie in the theater

Definitely a lot of exposition in the first Cary Elwes/Kittridge/etc. scene, but the information was necessary for the most part. Just very funky and unnatural how they divided the dialogue amongst everyone and they were finishing each other's sentences, like people Do Not talk like that

Also did anyone else think it was weird how long it was until the intro credits montage too? Idk maybe that's my personal artistic choice talking. Either way it was a super neat montage and I loved it, regardless of when it occurred; I was just afraid the first time I saw it that we weren't going to get one 👀👀👀

The whole end-of-days AI thing is definitely way too relevant and 1) stresses me out v badly, but also 2) Tom Cruise gives me hope that maybe we will eventually defeat it, even if it's not by he himself punching it to death 🤞🏻💖

Best comprehensive soundtrack of the franchise; the only one that has actually stuck out in my mind and I can remember at all and has stirred up genuine emotion in me

The Rome car chase safely occupies the spot as the best one I've ever seen, and you can tell the difference with how they used real sets and props vs. just wall-to-wall greenscreen 😖 I also love how the hijinks with like, the handcuffs and the seat-switching feel like smth out of an older spy comedy movie?? Vintage vibes ✨🤌🏻

If Tom Cruise could just casually stand with me protectively like that for a while and shield me from the w o r l d I think it might fix me 🥺🥲

The way Grace drives is a glimpse into what it feels like for me every time I get on the road

I love the yellow Fiat and I want it gimme gimme

Pom Klementieff's character is definitely too over the top for me. absolutely feral. someone tranquilize her pls. give her a nap. but hey, I'm glad she's having fun 🩷

Rebecca Ferguson was so underused and felt weirdly distant and separated even when she was present in this movie- def my biggest disappointment >:(

When I say I absolutely hated the big retcon about how agents are drafted into the IMF like MY PUPPY-DOG EYED NERD BENJI AND ETHAN "LOVES HIS FRIENDS" HUNT WERE NOT CRIMINALS IT DOESN'T MAKE A LICK OF SENSE FOR THEIR CHARACTERS BOY HAVE YOU LOST YOUR MIND CAUSE I'LL HELP YOU FIND IT 😤😤😤

Didn't think I was going to like Hayley Atwell at all before seeing the movie bc I tend not to like the way female action movie characters are written and I am a simp for Ilsa if you couldn't tell, but I ended up really enjoying her

Gabriel showed a lot of promise as a cool villain in the beginning when he was all mysterious, but ultimately there wasn't anything memorable about him for me. Only one who's earned that reward to date in M:I is Philip Seymour Hoffman, but maybe if/when we learn more about his backstory/motivation; hope is still alive for now

They've got Grace dressed like a fkin pirate there in Venice. And Pom is giving absolute "Black Parade" realness

ILSA MY SWEET LITTLE BABY SHE DIED ALL ALONE AND THEY DON'T EVEN SHOW ANYONE CRYING OVER HER DEATH EVEN THOUGH SHE WAS SUCH A SO-CALLED CLOSE FRIEND AND ALLY AND *DEF MORE* TO ETHAN AND IT'S JUST SO FUCKING WEIRD AND WRONG I ALMOST WISH THEY'D JUST QUIETLY WRITTEN HER OUT AFTER FALLOUT

Like kill her off if Rebecca wants to engage in other projects but give the character a proper send-off if you must. But fr, I agree with everyone's critique that she was such a welcome departure and sign of progress from the completely-interchangeable-female-action-character-who's-only-there-to-provide-new-and-different-eye-candy-every-time, and then right after she's really established and gelled with everyone they kill her off and switch her out in the team with another brunette female IN THE VERY NEXT SCENE BEFORE HER BODY IS EVEN COLD IN THE GRAVE

Yes. I understand that it's an action movie and, within the high-stakes confines of the plot, time for mourning is limited. Yes I understand that the other characters have witnessed many other deaths before. But the fact is that her character was special and different, to the characters and to us, and the filmmakers could have done it better. Ok, main gripe of the movie over 😔

Not sure if it's a plot hole or I just don't understand technology, but couldn't the Entity have messed with the computer in Benji's car when he puts it in self-drive while trying to help Ethan board the train...? 🤨🤨

Yep the Train Scene was just as brilliant and utterly harrowing as I remembered; most stressful viewing experience of me life 🥲😭

And, as much of a stretch as it was, I am a sucker indeed still for the part where Pom saves their lives 🥺 and now I kinda hope she lives and sticks around and has a badass, dare I say heroic moment or two in the future

Overall, despite my number of gripes, it still goes down as my favorite movie in the franchise overall 💖 the perfect proportions of comedy and drama, so many iconic and likable characters, and plenty of the unparalleled action sequences we've come to expect but even better than any we've seen before, and I am chomping at the bit for Part Two to eventually, someday, please please please come out thank you and see you at the movies 👋🏻✨

[bloodsadx]

every time i go to print a new shirt theres a few feelings. the first feeling is annoyance and lots of fretting over the art part of it. im rly precious abt what a drawing for a shirt should look like most of the time so i will redraw the same idea like 40 times until it feels charming. then i gotta print transparencies which is always a pain in the ass especially since i do big ass shirts thats like such an annoying process gotta do math gotta split the art up into chunks gotta do color separations. then i get excited cause im like yes this is gonna be such a cool shirt. then i get annoyed again bc i have to reset like 4 to 20 screens for my dumb shirt. then i get rly worried im gonna print super badly and waste a bunch of expensive blanks cause like the shirts and hoodies i print on cost like at least 7 or 8 bucks some of the hoodies i have rn are like 30 bucks wholesale. they would cost u like 80 dollars to buy them Not wholesale. so like thats a decent amt of pressure. then i start printing and its like 4 hours of like doing a print then standing there while i wait for ink to cure under the heat. then printing. then waiting. its a lot of waiting. waiting for office stores to open so i can buy ink for my printer then waiting for my time in the studio then waiting for screens to dry then coating them then waiting for them to dry then washing them out then waiting for them to dry then printing then waiting for the ink to dry. but after like a week i have a bunch of shirts, most of which i will never see again after i mail them out. so the final stage is sort of waiting indefinitely for somebody who has one of the shirts i made to @ me on somewhere and be like shirt by bloodsad and then im like Yes. anyway im just sitting in the studio rn bc my legs hurt and ive been here for like 9 hours and i was here like 9 hours 2 days ago and then yesterday i was also here cleaning stuff and 3 days ago i was here for about 9 hours and the day before that too and it all sort of blends together and a lot of it is me sitting in a chair at 3 am when my legs hurt. this is what a job is but i guess because most of it is spent like alone it doesnt feel like real. i often feel like its going to go away soon or like im doing something illegal even though it wont and im not. a lot of last year i kept standing on the street corner at like 4 am by myself smoking looking at the asphalt and thinking “how much of my time in portland will i remember as just times when i was not at the studio, preparing to go to the studio, and then how much of the time will i remember as me being at the studio, thinking about how soon i will no longer be at the studio, i will be somewhere else, somewhere not in portland?” its weird when u think that u will not be in the place youve been in a year repeatedly for a year soon and then that turns into two years and then you realize that probably u will continue to be in that place indefinitely. i see older people who are in portland and i think about how many of them live here intentionally or just forgot they were supposed to move somewhere else. i think about if thats just the state of living for everybody or if its a factor of my age or being a zoomer or whatever. but idk i guess im printing shirts. no joke or point to this post

[milo-is-rambling]

You ever get drunk and high and read about the trump news while one of your closest friends (one of the two close friends you have) is asleep smiling next to you and you feel like somewhere out there there’s another universe where your father never died and your mother never grew into her own person and you never did x y z thing in x y z order and like idk it’s just very like,,, offputting and healing at the same time to read the news on my own time after seeing one too many posts referencing trump instead of hearing it on Fox News or from my father yelling at the tv about it and like yeah god idk it’s weird grief is weird big feelings watched the last episode of the midnight gospel today (yesterday) and now my brain is like wee ooo wee ooo your dad is dead wee ooo wee ooo it’s June it’s Father’s Day month wee ooo wee ooo your grandfather died yesterday (my fathers dad) weee ooo wee ooo brain on fire weee ooo wee ooo random memories of my first ever therapist have started randomly popping up in my memories and I do not know why they’re there. But they seem relevant. Hmm. also have talked about slash thought about my past relationships much more recently than I ever do and it is technically on par with my cherry tag season vibe to be in my feels about homoerotic friendships from highschool while drunk on brown liquor and root beer (a la root beer float the blackbear song I listened to a LOT in like 2017 maybe. 2018?) but it’s still a bit umm. All encompassing. just overwhelming. On my mind in a very low buzzing type of way. girls when they feel evil for their past actions because they loved too hard every time and then doomed it by wanting what was best for themselves or the other persons mental health at the time and being selfish but like I have to step back and be like oh woah a fourteen or fifteen year old was selfish woooahhh that’s crazyyy!!!! Never heard of That before. A 14/15 year old putting themselves and their own mental health first and then feeling like the worst person on the planet and for sure developing some trauma from the whole situation 🙀🙀🙀 wwahhhhhhh okay maybe that one is a bit more me but im sure im not alone there. Brains are weird. Also kind of Just Now clicking in my brain that I did in fact get weirdly afraid of liking women after I broke up with my first girlfriend and it ended poorly so I fully was like hmm I definitely can’t be a lesbian because I am not Allowed (by myself I guess) to like women bc now I am afraid of fhem (not sexy style) but then recently (ish) I fucked a dude and got traumatized by that (legitimately) (and also just like. Didn’t have fun.) and now I’m like looking back on my life more and going hmmm. Maybe I’m a lesbian and maybe I’ve been afraid to say that for literally years and years and years because of my own past perceptions from hearing my family / the internet talk growing up and maybe I have this realization over and over again and then go wahhh idk tho cause I’m baby I have done nothing been nowhere met no one so I just say whatever I’m queer and it doesn’t fucking matter if I love someone I love them regardless like at the end of the day those are the fuckin facts. Bam mic drop. Idk. It’s only one thirty nine in the morning eek I took an accidental like four hour nap yesterday and then we were drinking and smoking so like I have evergyyyy and I had some sugary stuff so I’m like awake as fuck rn but it’s fine it’s good I’m gonna smoke an indica bowl and pet the dog and fall asleep super comfy like the second I put my head on the pillow I bet

[kaddyssammlung]

The Apparition – Analysis

I really like that title. It took me a while to understand that this word has something to with “to appear”.

“Why are you never real?”

It speaks for itself but you can read so much into this. Being real as in being honest for example. Or being real in a sense that Sleep was not a real human but maybe only something that he saw in his dreams.

“Whenever you appear You leave me with that grace”

How nice that he is being left with grace. I find that a little bit weird.

“I am trembling with fear But I know that you will disappear Just as I awake Whisper in my ear”

It makes me think about Vessel meeting Sleep in the dream world. If waking up is so bad that it leaves him fearful then I can kind of understand the line from Atlantic "anything to get me to (S)sleep"

If this being wants him to stay in the 4-d-realm that this is a bit weird. 4-d does not really exist. It's just all of sleeping and doing things while we are asleep. The next higher realm is 5-d. Whatever. Not that important.

Idk what else to say or what to do with this.

“Well, I believe Somewhere in the past Something was between You and I, my dear And it remains With me to this day No matter what I do This scar will never fade”

This is highly possible. I once read a book about how our souls made some sort of contracts at some point in the past. I'm not sure if I should write more about stuff like that. I would have to do some rereading because I don't remember much about it. I think that book was written by a Shaman. But it's highly likely that they know each other from an different lifetime and have unfinished business of some sort.

“So let's make trouble in the dream world Hijack heaven with another memory now”

I hope this is fun.

Do you believe that something can influence dreams?

I do believe that. I have to leave it at that.

“I make the most of the turning tide It just split what's left of the burning silence”

In all this screaming silence....what is it about silence my dear Vessel? I really like silence. Absolute silence.....no thoughts, no feelings, no ego, no voice in the head, only my breath and silence.

Idk what to do with this.

“Don't wait, 'cause this could be the last time You turn up in the reveries of my mind”

It sounds like someone was being horribly haunted and I hope it's the last time.

“I wake up to a suicide frenzy”

What I said earlier....I guess. This is weird. Was he hypnotised into doing something to hurt himself? I really don't know. (should I bring up brainwashing? Or my experience with it...grooming....let's not do this)

“Loaded dreams still leave me empty”

I have struggled for so many years with unhealthy coping mechanisms. Sometimes I have nightmares about those times and I dream that I have given into my cravings again.

It's horrible!

I can understand how it makes him feel empty. But does he feel empty because he feels like he does not want to be on planet earth? Or in other words he wants to be with Sleep. Or is it because he has had enough and it's exhausting.

“The shifting stages you follow me through Unrevealed Just let me go or take me with you”

From my experience you need to “throw” entities out yourself. You can't just beg them to leave you alone because they won't. They feed off of you. Someone can guide you to this, though. The guy that I took lessons from about energy work taught me how to get rid of stuff like that.

I'm sure Vessel learned that, too.

[dear--charlie]

Dear Charlie,

I feel like I may have fucked up a lot of things, and for some reason I cant stop. Lost my bf, childhood best friend, and now my new best friend. I really miss him tbh, but it’ll be fine. I think the only way I can fix things and bring some form of balance to my life is to just ghost everyone. I think a lot of things would’ve been better for everyone had I just left every single person I know alone. There has to be something wrong with me, even when I try to be better somehow I find a way to ruin any connection I have to people. The only way out is stop connecting. There’s no point anyways, I dont want to talk to anyone I dont want to tell people things anymore I want to just be alone forever. I need a break from life, sometimes existing is too much like sometimes I feel a little too alive or a little too emotional. Probably cause I feel everything intensely, even when I feel nothing I feel like in absolute. Its horrible how quickly things can turn. My mind is not somewhere I want to be, and its sad how much my brain hates me. I dont have anyone around anymore, and its all my own fault. Maybe I should just move on from everything and everyone. I think there’s something about being alone that I love though, maybe that’s why I do things that push people away. So that no one needs me around, im not reliable for a reason. This letter is all over the place im sorry. I just want a break from everything like just one little break. I’ll deal with it at some point but I just cant anymore I dont want to. As bad as life was this time last year I would go back to it all at least I always knew what to expect. Now its just non stop change and im not ready for it. As bad as he was at least I had someone. The best thing to do is just detach for a little while. I dont know how long, but I know I need to just leave everything. Its just scary to be by myself , no one has ever been crueller to me than I have.i keep trying to cry but I just cant. I dont know what’s wrong with me like how did this all happen when did I change and how did I not see it happen. The thing is does it really matter? Like does anything even actually matter? No one actually cares so what does anything matter?  

Lately ive been feeling nothing and I cant cry anymore. I just feel nothing but not numb but numb in a way idk how to explain it. Maybe I just need time to myself, away from people. The thing is I dont like myself. I dont want to be alone but I cant stand being around people. I want to be left alone but I hate myself. No winning I suppose. Its weird how much I wanted to end my life before and now I just live with the self hate lol. My eating disorder is back like completely. Funny thing is now that I look like I did before, my mom said that I finally look like myself again. That made me laugh. Thing is lately thoughts of bulimia have been in my mind. Like if I eat something then I think I could just throw it up and it’ll be like it never happened. Isn’t having a sick mind the best? 

love, 

s<3

Ps. Thank you for always listening.. I know in some other reality we’re friends, and im telling you this over ice cream. unfortunately, in this one you are somewhere I dont know, and I am too. love u.

[gravity-knight]

Ok DFF finished and I’m mad

Started off so good, I was hooked. But that ending… 😒

Story was definitely interesting. The concept. The characters. All good. But the direction from possible supernatural, to whodunit, to a delve into the human mind kinda fell flat.

I guess it’s my fault for expecting something that just wasn’t gonna happen. I stopped my investigaytions when I realized what was happening. But it was still fun picking characters apart

Por. Poor spoiled little rich kid. Had you been a better ring leader things wouldn’t have escalated

Top. I dunno I thought there could’ve been more to his shitty actions. Thought he was secretly in love with Tee or White. Thought he was a secret agent for Tee’s uncle. Thought he would have some kind of secret. But nope.

Tee. Oh man there was a lot going on for this kid. I really went in liking him but when he started to manipulate Non I took a step back. I still felt bad for him for some reason. Then we find out more and how he and White met and started to pity him. Even his ending is just sad.

White. Poor Snow White did no harm. He came to play in the woods and had his heart stabbed. Finding out that someone you loved isn’t the person you thought they were hurts. Then having to go through all that stuff in the cabin ESPECIALLY when you didn’t even want to go? He really gave off final girl to me but in the end just an innocent bystander. Had he mustered up some courage though, ALOT of things could’ve gone differently.

Tan. Idk guys, manic is definitely a good look on this man. The irony of playing the older brother though. I think he may be first on the list of who had the most fucked up experience. Coming back home to your family like that. Leaving you all alone. Nothing but revenge on your mind.

Non. This guy really did a number on me. All he wanted was to make his movie. I don’t think he even really wanted friends. I think he just wanted to be needed. Cause if he wanted people around him who cares about him he would not have done that to Phee. I really didn’t think we’d get a character like that from Non. I thought he’d be painted as a troubled weirdo and that would be it. And to find out that was his fate? I really thought he’d just appear in the end. Or wake up somewhere in the forest. Also Mr. Keng too?

Jin. Omg did you guys see that hallucinoJin (😉) so much ass. Jin definitely has the most secrets out of the group. The rawness of it all. Boy is obsessed. I’m glad that he confessed what he did to Non and why he did it. I was afraid that would be swept under the rug or suffer a premature conversation interruption. Also there’s something kinda nice about falling in love with your crush’s boyfriend. Like you both loved the same guy. That’s not weird right? I mean sure but it’s like poetic weird right? Ironic? Am I using that right?

Phee. Boy. Like. What? He was soooo in love and so hurt. He helped Non and was betrayed. He had every right to feel the way he did. And still he. Blamed himself. His hallucinations showed Non dying in multiple ways. All suicidal. And him not being able to save him no matter how many times he tried to. Sorry I’m still standing by JinxPhee. Need them in like a gay killers sort of project

(Dead) End. Ok so I’m wtf. Like that was so unnecessary. It made no sense really. Everyone was drugged and Tan placed weapons all next to them to which they ended things. Now Fluke. Top and Por I had already lost all hope for, for a long time. Tee and Phee was up in the air, so were White and Jin. I ultimately thought Jin would be the last one standing or atleast one. He felt very main character out of the main characters. And I thought the film’s end with him being the only one that made it out the house was foreshadowing. White being as submissive as he was I thought he’d power up in the end at the critical moment. But when it turned out to be Tee. I thought Tee would pull a Romeo and Juliet. So now this two year jump confused me.

I was already thinking why none of them are in jail and why we don’t see the aftermath of Jin’s hand. And why would Tee just be at home

Phee pulling the “maybe we never left” card got me so upset. Because why. Was the drugs actually poisonous? Did they all consume too much? Why are Jin and Phee connected and with Tee? Was the antidote actually fake? Phee told Jin to wait for him while he went back for Tee. So was Phee “waking” from his hallucinations actually not him waking up? Because I questioned why the smoke wasn’t affecting him after he woke up. And then we hear the puff. For all we know there was never an antidote

I just wished they gave us a bit more than a shot of the house for an ending. Like the ambiguity wasn’t needed. Just say they all died and show all the bodies.

[eww-y-tho]

✨Miserable Thoughts At Around Midnight Coming From Existing With Two Narcissistic Parents✨

Pt. 1

I'm starting a series that I don't think many people will see, but this is probably going to be just for me to get my sadness and trauma out there somewhere whenever I'm thinking too much to sleep, and idk someone might be comforted by it in a weird way.

I'm just feeling very crushed right now and need an outlet. Ignore me if this, including other sensitive topics, such as attempted $u!c!d3 or inappropriate conversations with minors, is triggering for you.

For some context, my parents are divorced and living in separate houses. I'm living with my father and visiting my mother regularly. My sister is studying psychology and we've been deducing our parent's behaviour.

One of the toughest parts of having narcissistic parents is recognizing the patterns they use to manipulate you. I'm going to be talking about my mother first. Comparing the behaviour in my mother's texts between us sisters indicates a serious difference in interactions.

My mother has a history of putting me on a pedestal, calling me the light of her life, her baby, and the only reason she was married to my father. She "needed to stay with him" so that I "had someone to take care of me until I was an adult."

As a result, her subsequent neglect of anything other than spewing her poison was crushing. Me and my sister were surfing through the bins that contained crafts, art, and any nicknacks we collected over the years, and I have 20 separate, very crude cards to my mother that just say "I love you," so you can see how much I wanted to please her.

She talked about her sex life with my father to me in my tween years, plus my sense of wanting to age faster so my mother could finally leave the marriage really fucked me up. She would infantilize me and break down my confidence. Being homeschooled didn't help. I felt completely isolated.

My only saving grace was the internet while my sister left for uni. My sister had more signs of complete neglect, though. She has mental and physical health issues that are tied to parental neglect and a lot of her childhood memories were spent alone.

My sister showed me her text messages, and hers are drier than the Sahara, my mother only sporadically asks for favours that indicate a lack of care. My texts with my mother are drowned in red heart emojis, weird gifs for the context of the conversation, and a regular daily check-in if I drank my pill, what I'm doing, if I ate, what I ate, asking for any artwork WIPs I have, etc.

While that might sound sweet at first, it's very clearly a manipulation tactic, as she constantly drowns me in affection because she still thinks I can be controlled by all of her manipulative behaviour and my childhood urge to get validation from her.

It's very hard to see, which is why this speculation makes you feel like an asshole sometimes. But my sister and I have been burned by her so many times, she's ignored our advice in the past too much, pulled the victim card at so many inappropriate points, and she's actively engaged in destructive behaviour that caused some serious trauma. It's hard to believe she has good intentions.

God, I barely talked about all the things she's done to me and this is very surface-level, but it will go a lot more in-depth in other posts with examples as well as with my father so you know I'm not crazy.

I'll add a small tidbit here (that's not so small now) because it's plagued me for a few days recently:

My sister had a conversation with my mother about the four years my sister was in university, also known as the hardest point of my life. It's hard to admit, but around 3 years in, I attempted $u!c!d3. It didn't really threaten my life, but the intent was there.

My sister leaving really took a toll on my mental state, and living with two narcissistic parents made it worse. I only Skyped my sister on the weekends because I didn't want to bother her while she was in uni, so the only relationship I was active in was with my mother, as I didn't really have an excuse to not talk to her.

It was really damaging, and just remembering those years makes me cry. Back to the conversation. My sister told me that my mother actually told her that she was glad my sister left because that made me and my mother closer. I had a freakout and cried real hard when my sister told me that, because one, she was truly blind to the suffering I experienced, two, she just said that my sister was a barrier between me and her, and three, "close?" if anything, I became more and more distant as time passed.

Not even mentioning how damaging that was to my sister, as she told me that she didn't react to the blatant lack of care, but that sentence mixed with all the shit she did made her feel like she failed in protecting me, which was a driving force she had throughout my childhood. That stung.

Anyway, that's enough misery for now. I'm done.

[unknownarmageddon]

thinking about killer having lv episodes. like. I imagine because of his lv, killer gets like, brief things, like migraines that are so bad, they incapacitate him for hours, or pain in his bones, like growth pains but much worse and sharper, which also leaves him handicapped for like a day at the very least

like, its horrid pain and he normally deal with it before by staying home and sleeping it off, but now he cant ride it out in comforf; now he's curling up in the backs of cars he broke into, clutching his skull and trembling so hard, his headache is only made worse by the sound of his bones rattling, and its honestly a bad condition to have in the end of the world but he somehow makes it

now imagine, killer gets used to dealing with it by just curling up somewhere and riding it out

then he winds up with cross and about a month in, he gets a pretty mild episode that lasts about two days, and he definitely flags a bit, randomly stopping to lean against a wall or tree, whatever is available, for a minute or two, then he's alright enough to move along and keep up with cross, thought he does have a bit of a limp

and then it goes past without incident, and then another two or three months go by, and they're a lot more. warm with each other, and killer gets just. he wakes up with the most horrid combination of pain in every bit of his body and there's the worst throbbing in the back of his skull and he just can't fucking move

and cross, a total sweetheart, lightly kicks killer and tells him to get up cuz they need to go, and killer just curls up in a miserable ball and whines for cross to leave him alone and it's so unlike him that cross is like.

"...are you sick?" and killer just gives a watery huff, feeling like total shit and cross finally leaves him alone and killer eventually just passes the fuck out, to cross's alarm, and he's unconcious for like. three days and violently sick for another three, then kinda ill and weak for another two days, and then bounces back and its like.

anyways im not sure where I'm going with that, im exhausted, but the idea of cross holding killer during one of his bad LV episodes and like, idk, trying to soothe him with what little healing magic he has to spare, it has me in a chokehold now

AUGHHH OHH MY GOD WAIT WAIT I love this actually wait

I definitely think this ties back into the whole thing with Killer’s soul already being a bit fucked up cause of the atmosphere and all of the after effects of the bombs and stuff

So THAT whole thing mixed in with the lv spikes like. Yeah. Yeah

And maybe at first Cross like. Doesn’t think too much about it when it happens or it even irritates him at first cause it means they can’t move as fast or killer couldn’t defend himself as easily if he needed to but later when they’re more settled Cross starts to like. Pick up on it. Like he can start telling when it’s happening or when it’s getting worse and he’s kinda learned how to deal with it and how to help and how to minimize Killer just feeling like shit to the best of his ability. And he’s learned to not push Killer to get moving again like he normally would when it’s happening, and to let him be, and he’s learned to like. Look out for him??? Or something??? Cause I’d imagine up until then he’s used to Killer kinda pullin his own weight for the most part

And Killer in turn learns to let cross help him. In a way??? Like it’s weird for both of them. Cause up until then Killer’s done it all himself. He’s rode out the spikes by himself, and now here’s Cross, trying to help or whatever and maybe killer’s stubborn about that at first??? Like shying away from it. Y’know. Like maybe he manages to make half hearted, strained jokes about it. Or something. But he realizes having Cross there’s much better than just suffering in the back of some scrappy car for days and then it’s not so bad

And It maybe like. Scares cross almost?? Like initially. Cause he sees Killer just be so drastically different than he’s used to it’s like. Fuck man is this guy just gonna drop dead any second

ANYWAY IDK what I’m on about that was a lot of just rambling on my part I feel but absolutely so real you’re so right so real

[handbagman]

I am here to ask about Muriel 👋👋 I need to know everything about this creature STAT

auauuaga

he was like . a water guy originally . water people from the clouds turn into clouds when theyre older he was charlies kid 🙏 he was supposed to take over cloud kingdom when he got older but then charlie and his fucked up eye dissolved half his brain and he started doing fucked up shit . mariel (still a kid) was like OH NAH and bailed . he didnt know what the ground below was like though and landed in ShitFuck Nowhere

ShitfuckNowhere was basically a watery area near a cave . mariel realizing "oh shit i am literally alone right now" started crying and due to some weird stardust bullshit (stardust causes life and everyone has a Little bit of it in them) his tears (oh yeah hes crying over a lake thing) cause the fish under him to Turn into Water people

water people that arent in the ground arent able to turn into cloud people so he accidentally just made a new type of people . his only example of leading anyone was his dad being king so he basically became the king of the water people

meanwhile charlie with his fucked up brain was like "WHERE IS MY SON :-( WHY DID HE LEAVE" and ordered sirius (oh yeah hes here LMAO (he was ordered 2 be a guard when the. Fucked up eye shit started to get bad)) to go find his ass . sirius was like "i mean. he had a good reason t--" and then charlie scared him so he went out to go find mariel .

after a While (a couple years) sirius managed to find them . meanwhile charlie was making this Lightning bolt Thing with the brain power of someone who has half a brainstem . the lightning also fucked up YOUR eyes because something something his stardust being fucked up something.

anyways when sirius found him mariel was doing pretty well 4 himself in terms of "oh hey hes not dead and theres. Other kids (water people are kids in the cloud kingdom but Not Here) as well"

sirius was like "y.yo i found your kid" and charlie was like "WOOOOOOOO OKAY GIVE HIM THIS LETTER DONT FUCKING READ IT. IF IT MAKES YOU FEEL BETTER I'M WATCHING YOU WITH A DEADLY [CANNON] THAT CAN KILL YOU ANY SECOND YOU FUCK UP (/vague ref) (ref to gta v sorry)"

sirius dropped down and told a 'guard' (some water guy standing around) to hand it over to mariel . mariel got the letter and was like "huh . someone (charlie didnt say it was him) wants to meet me somewhere for an alliance. idk what a alliance is but hell yeah"

mariel went over to The alliance Spot (some hill with forest on both sides of it) and there was nobody there . he assumed he was early and just Waited longer

MEANWHILE halfbrain charlie is setting up this lightning bolt shit . hes also yelling but considering hes on the highest cloud layer nobody can hear him

he Fires his cool little bolt . problem is that having One Blurry Eye and a shitty Telescope thing and Shit Depth Perception is very good for making you miss . he fucking misses where he was trying to aim (a couple feet in front of mariel) and hits mariel right in the arm, literally killing him instantly

the lightning 1. transforms his eyes to be fucked up 2. tears his arm off 3. electrocutes and kills the fish in his body .

sirius (who was hiding in the forest!! surprise!!!!) was like "WHAT THE FUCK WHAT THE FUCK" and ran over 2 mariel

Something Something even More stardust bullshit

(sirius isnt actually a cloud person hes a piece of a star person wrapped in clouds and whenever he's feeling too much of anything/doing too much his wounds start bleeding Starfuckshit)

(the lightning bolt is supposed to affect All Eyes that see it (which is why leader also got fucked up cause he saw it) but sirius is Cool and Awesome and only got shitty lightning wounds all over his body)

(he was bleeding everywhere and ran up to mariel and was Bleeding everywhere and his Star(dust) blood basically revived mariel cause it fell in his watery corpse)

sirius doesnt know hes alive again though and goes back up to where charlie is to yell at him because Holy shit he just hit his son with lightning and Why the Fuck did you think that was a good idea you JACKASS and he runs away as well .

mariel revives . wakes up to a "dream" (heehoo clouds correlate with dreams sort of so charlie can See thru his eyes and change his dreams) and mariel was like "WHERE THE FUCK AM I" and charlies like "Come back home bro" and mariels like "WHY CAN I BARELY SEE SHIT" and charlies like "take this.mirror. look"

mariel sees his eyes are like his dads . gets terrified . Immediately starts trying to take his eye out (in his dreams). the second he gets his shitty cloud eye out (from his dream) he wakes up and still scared he starts taking out the other one .

the Dream eye is the eye with the white pupil . the fuckin sans pupil 😭😭😭 dont ask me how that works i dont know either LMRAOOO his other eye (the one thats literally just a hole in his face) is just. a hole in his face

anyways blind as shit mariel is having his body actively transformed (sirius blood shit) (+ hes sort of. evaporating??? not really) and he doesnt know wtf is happening . he cant figure out where his old water 'kingdom' is so he just walks wherever he can 'see' more . he walks like that for a couple weeks before hes found by Leader (WOOOO LEADER)

leaders like "Holy shit dude r you good...." and mariels like "WHAT THE FUCK WHERE IS THAT VOICE COMING FROM"

after a bit of talking mariels like "holy shit theres other people that exist???" and leaders like "yeah lol wanna come over 2 our place you look like shit"

mariel. recuperates over at the fire village 4 a couple more weeks . doesnt eat (hasnt realized he hasnt eaten till after leader kept asking if he needed anything)

MEANWHILE charlie (after yelling at sirius and watching him leave as well) was very Sad . it took him a week to actually get up to pick up his sons body . problem is There was No Body to fucking Pick up cause his son Walked away .

even if mariel just. turned into water and was just a puddle that had no life there still shouldve been fish bones or something nearby . there was Nothing except the 1 eye he ripped out

charlies obviously like "HES ALIVE!!!!!!" . searched around the water kingdom (threatened like. all of them until he was Sure he wasnt there) and was like . "Waaaait a minute. theres MORE people around here! Im even ALLIANCED to one!!!! (the plants but theyre unneccessary atm) Lets go check on the One Other Place here!!!"

he checks the place . threatens everyone . asks leader if he knows . leader is like "nope . never heard of him . what even is water" (mariel is sleeping in leaders house, isnt even aware that his dad is over there)

charlie is like "Hm. Okay!!!!!! If you lied i Will rain on this place So Bad and Kill everyone !!! Have a good day!!! 😁😁😁😁"

(charlie already sent a nice little letter to lindens prior that was like "have you seen a water guy with COOL and NOT WEIRD eyes" and lindens response was just "nuh uh" so he didnt check)

mariel wakes up later to leader being like "Dude. Dude you need to go . Right now . i have a little Box and we are going to Ship you over to the Plant dudes cause its Very Large over there"

mariels like "wtf happened" and when he finds out hes like "Oh. Uh. Okay ☹️ will we meet again" and leaders like "Not for a while bro . you can probably visit later (in a couple months/years) though"

mariel was almost done being turned into the weird . fluffy purple thing he is so when he got in that box he basically just. his liquid goop form got hardened and he basically erupted like a fucking butterfly out of there .

mariel got out to the plant kingdom and then Immediately had the authorities called on him for bumping into too many people and being a public nuisance

(charlie found out leader lied and just Dream tortured him for a while cause he still couldnt find mariel)

the guard that has to escort him away from the public is haynes . haynes doesnt know wtf is wrong with this guy but the guy keeps trying to get out his grasp so he takes mariel all the way over to the plant castle area

lindens is like. "okay. haynes. mind explaining why you brought that here. what is it" and haynes is like "i literally dont know" meanwhile mariel is just like "PUT ME DOWN???? PUT ME DOWN???? PU"

i dont have any explanitory lore for this point but armey and amelia soon get "ordered" (asked politely by lindens) to let him live in their house for a bit until they can figure out what to do

i. have to go i cant keep writing LMFAOOO Sorry