#going back in the fall still seems impossible rn but so does starting a job somewhere else. but i dunno

[opens-up-4-nobody]

...

[milo-is-rambling]

Couldn’t sleep so I went to get up thinking oh I’ll have to grind weed so I can fall back asleep and then I thought no I’ll take a a dab but I thought no that’s too much I’ll just smoke flower and then I went to get up and I accidentally lifted my blanket too high and knocked over the little jar I had on my bedside table that had ALLL OF THE INCENSE STICKS IVE COLLECTED FROM THE LAST TWO YEARS IN IT. So I breathed. And I breathed. And I turned my light on. And I got really annoyed and picked up small sticks that blend in with my floor for five minutes and then I breathed some more and couldn’t fit all the sticks back in the jar bc they’d been placed meticulously so they all laid perfectly against one side so there was still room to put more and I was not about to individually put all those sticks in that jar when all I wanted to do was to smoke and take off the heavier blanket and pass out. So I moved the incense sticks to my skull jar that I haven’t used in a while and now it looks like this.

But I did earn a dab being allowed from my brain in the process. So yay me. Also funk has been absolutely SCREAMING at me at the top of his little bird lungs bc I turned the light on to smoke and play accidental pick up sticks for twenty minutes and it’s giving me a headache and it’s just like godddddd how can everything go so wrong so fast not just me knocking over a jar of sticks but like. Life. Something about me collecting all my incense sticks and ash since I first moved into this house two years ago and then accidentally dropping the sticks like two days after I accidentally spilled incense ash all over my bed and didn’t even tell anyone cause it made me so annoyed and ashamed for some reason and I can’t even explain why I’m collecting the sticks or the ash. Like I have no fucking clue what I’m doing or why. I started collecting incense ash like three years ago when my friend and I went thru a ooo witchcraft phase and I just never stopped dumping the ash from my ashtray into a cheese container with a small plastic spoon like I don’t even know why I’m doing it I just set myself down this path and now I’m here and I’m attached to a jar of fucking kindling at this point like why did I cry over knocking over a jar of sticks what is wrong with me does it ever get easier why have I been taking my meds for almost 100 days and I still lose my shit over little things I feel like I will never be normal I will never get to be the person that will make my parents proud I feel like I’m constantly gonna be finding myself making one wrong move and ruin the thing I’m doing just to pretend I’m doing something with my life like I don’t even know what I want to do in the future there’s so many options everything is so scary forever I went to Walmart and I wanted to crawl into the squishmallow display and just die like if one more person looks at me and acknowledges I have a body I feel like I’ll lose my shit like oh my god I know I’m mentally ill but fucking hell. Just give me a break (I say while not having a job not doing school not even doing theater rn I’m just sitting at home in my brain and losing my mind waiting for therapy on the third) I’m so close to having someone to help me untangle my brain I really want to open up I want to feel like I can I want to remember shit I always forget I want to avoid crisis modes and be normal I want to get a job I want to shut up. Literally ever. If I could ever at any point learn to shut my fucking mouth and brain mouth up at the same time. Would be fucking fantastic. It seems impossible. Either I’m not thinking when I’m talking and then I’m an asshole or I’m not talking bc I’m thinking so hard about how I’m an asshole. Like either way in my head I am a shitty person forever and like I know I’ve been shitty like I know I’ve done shitty things but like I’m not broken forever I know there’s food in here but I need someone else to force me to see it bc I can’t find it on my own and I don’t trust it when it comes from my family or friends and a part of my brain says oh ur paying ur therapist to say that

But i want a therapist who will call me out on my bullshit and would tell me if I was being the asshole in the situation yknow. Anyways this is a lot of text and I’m not going to reread it all have fun going to the internet rambling blog void block of text goodbye gonna smoke a bowl and pass the fuck out hopefully my back and neck will stop hurting and I will stop being too hot and too cold at the same time and I will not have nightmares about past relationships or future relationships or picking incense sticks up for forever and they all match the color of the carpet and also it’s fine cause they look better in the skull jar and it’s fine and it doesn’t make me irrationally mad still even tho I picked them all up but I don’t know for sure if I got them all but I think I did but it’s going to bother me if I find them on my floor tomorrow. Okay bye

[collecting-stories]

Cramps - JJ (Outer Banks)

Request: hiii! i am having horrible cramps rn and im alone so i have to go buy the stuff myself but i kinda always vomit o black out(?) and i have to wait for someone to help me aaAaaand i was thing if u can write something with JJ where he sees u like that and ask u whats wrong and he helps u and cute fluffly shi(maybe they arent dating but he has a crush on u and vise versa?)

A/N: I wanted to write this one right away when I saw it! Hope it helps you feel better!!

Outer Banks Masterlist

///

You pressed your face further into your pillow, closing your eyes and trying your hardest to ignore the sound of your phone buzzing on the end table above your head. Despite the weather outside and the heating pad wedged between your stomach and the back of the couch, you had a hoodie on. One you’d stolen from JJ the last time you’d gone night surfing with him. It was worn and cozy and you had the hood pulled up and the sleeves pawed around your hands. Your phone buzzed one more time and you groaned, finally reaching up blindly, knocking your hand against your water bottle, before you grabbed it.  

“Hello?” You laid your phone on top of your ear and closed your eyes, still half dazed from the warmth you were feeling.  

“Yo, where are you? We were supposed to meet like, 20 minutes ago.” JJ’s voice came through the phone, a little too loud.  

You had forgotten to text him when you woke up this morning and realized that hanging out was impossible. You had woken up to your period and cramps enough that getting from your bed to the couch was difficult enough. Your mom was already at work which meant you were home alone, a curse when you were feeling this sick.  

“I can’t,” you replied. “I have my period.” There was probably a time in middle school when you would have been too embarrassed to even utter the word period in front of JJ but you’d been friends long enough that you didn’t care about mentioning it. You’d been friends long enough too that JJ knew how truly awful your period could get.  

“Alright but you owe me a surf, John B’s fucking terrible.” He replied and you laughed as you heard John B in the background protesting JJ’s claims.

“Give me a few days, I’ll be out there schooling both of you.”

“Schooling? Does anyone even say that anymore?” He questioned.  

“Goodbye JJ, I'm hanging up.”

The worst part of being home alone was the fact that you had nothing you usually kept close. With your mom gone you could only get it if you left the house yourself and that was nearly impossible. The heat from the star shaped heating pad you’d bought based solely on cuteness was starting to cool down and you were beginning to regret not just buying the cheap one that plugged in to the wall. If you could just find a position comfortable enough to fall asleep you thought you might actually survive this absolute torture.  

You tucked your face into the hood of the sweatshirt, trying to see if any inch of it still smelled like JJ when the kitchen door opened with a bang.  

“Fuck,” you groaned, you were going to die in this god awful state.  

“Alright,” And just like that you were craning your neck to see JJ standing on the other end of the side table, looking down the couch at you, “I’ve got saltines, some chocolate cause Kie said chocolate was a must, pills, these giant ass bottles of ginger ale!” JJ held up a liter bottle, “Seagrams cause you’re a pain in the ass. And that CBD shit you like,” he waved the jar of muscle balm before tossing it at you.  

“You just hit me with that.” You grabbed the jar and tossed it back, missing him by a foot and spooking your cat.  

“Good job.”

“I thought you were going surfing?” You asked, pulling the heating pad from under JJ’s hoodie. “Also...heat this up for me?”  

He took the heating pad, disappearing into the kitchen while you tried to sit up on the couch. You reached over and took the jar of muscle balm, undoing the cap and sniffing it.  

“You want me to put in on for you?” JJ asked, coming back into the living room with the heating pad wrapped in a dish towel.  

The offer was too good to pass up and before you knew it you were laying on your back on the couch, hoodie pushed up enough that your stomach and lower abdomen were exposed. JJ sat on the edge of the couch, jar of muscle balm leaning against his thigh. He wiggled his fingers at you, smiling, “ready for my magic fingers?”

“Name of your sex tape.” You laughed.  

“God, get your head out of the gutter.” He joked, winking at you. You closed your eyes, muscles tensing for a fraction of a second when JJ first touched your stomach. He pressed his hand down gently, “relax.” He commanded and you did, relaxing as he kneaded the soft flesh of your stomach and lower abdomen, spreading the muscle balm.  

As you laid there you couldn’t help thinking about what Kiara had said to you before. She was convinced that JJ liked you. It seemed a bit farfetched to you, even now as you felt him adjust the heating pad on your stomach and pulled his hoodie down. JJ couldn’t like you, it was just that you were best friends, except he’d never done this kind of thing for Kiara.  

“When we go surfing-” you started to say, looking down the couch to where JJ had taken up residence, your feet in his lap. “After I’m not shark bait anymore-”

“Yeah?”

You took a deep breath. Ideally you would be dressed in a nice outfit, not close to death, but this was where you were and you didn’t want to keep wondering. Not when he remembered which episodes of Brooklyn 99 made you the happiest or what ginger ale brand you liked the best or any of the things he always seemed to know immediately. You wanted to know if Kiara was right.  

“You think it could just be us?”

“I know John B sucks at surfing but-”

“He does not!” You laughed, “Do you think it could be just us like, a date?”

“A date?”

“Yeah...I know this isn’t my best look but I really like you and, I don’t know, thought maybe you liked me too?”

JJ smiled, “yeah, yeah I do.” He looked over at you, “what are the chances you let me kiss you?”

“Oh no...I haven’t brushed my teeth.” You replied, closing your eyes again. You were jostled when JJ got up from the couch, knocking your feet off. “JJ, what’re you doing?” You didn’t bother trying to sit up this time as he disappeared upstairs.  

A moment later he appeared again, holding your toothbrush and a cup in his hands. “Huh? How about now?”

“God you’re so desperate.” You laughed, holding out your hands.  

-

taglist: @mellilla-rose @maplelattes22 @poguesrforlife  @freckled-and-daydreaming  @chasefreakinstokes @millie-753 @fangirlwithme @alex12948 @howdyherron @katherine097 @tangledinsparkles @tragicmisfits @carbonated-beverage @mariofgreengables @damonsalvawhore27 @ssprayberrythings @dopedoodes @dolanfivsosxox @belledutchess @poguelifeeee @jjsthumbring @jolomez @timotaychalabae 

[slytherflynn]

Old and New | Pt I

Blaise Zabini x muggle!reader

word count: 1971

summary: y/n is new to France on a study abroad trip. Blaise is visiting France post-Hogwarts. rags to riches story of an unfortunate muggle falling for a complicated, ridiculously wealthy person who just so happens to also be a powerful Wizard.

a/n: this started with an idea, became a moodboard, then became an entire fleshed out fic! I thought it would be short but my brain had other ideas. enjoy! note: I did write this from my personal perspective in life. as a result it is not very inclusive. I plan to change that with my next fics, I’ve just been having a really hard time lately and have been writing a lot of comfort fics and/or self-inserts to escape from irl bc irl is rly shitty for me rn

It’s a brand-new start, in a brand-new apartment, in a brand-new city, in a brand-new country... an ocean away from home. I can bring Tacoma to France, right? At least, that’s what I’m trying to tell myself. Study abroad is fucking... scary. I kinda regret it. It’s a good opportunity and for someone who doesn’t travel, it should be a fun experience. But I’m currently having an anxiety attack over taking out the garbage, so I’m not sure my positive self-talk is working.

I look out the window of my top floor apartment, wait until someone finally finishes walking down the stairs, and run out my door - I nearly trip about five times going down the spiral of death, my arms feel like jelly thanks to perpetually pushing my garbage deeper in to avoid this trip, and I swing with all my might to hurl my garbage bag into the trash compacting dumpster - only it hits the bottom lip and falls to the ground, splitting open.

“Great!” I say, sarcastically, “First they send my luggage to the wrong location, then they try to say my passport isn’t valid because my apartment was a temporary address, then I’m greeted with a fridge full of rotting food and no power, then I’m bitten up by fleas and now - I just- fuck. Why can’t I just- do anything- right-“ I cut myself off when I hear a screen door slide and blink a couple times to erase the threat of tears that had been creeping up on me while I ranted.

When I look up, I see a tall, dark-skinned guy about my age - handsome. He’s wearing a suit, and expensive jewelry. Combine that with the fact he’s living in the apartment building next to me, which is worth more than my life just for one month of rent, and I put together that he’s probably rich beyond belief. I quickly look away, not wanting to stare. I silently pick up my garbage, piece by piece. As I work, I feel eyes drilling holes in the back of my head. I ignore it. It continues, and I still ignore it as I finally shove my ripped garbage bag in the compactor and slam the door shut. I hear a slight jump up above, and chuckle to myself.

I zoom back up the stairs and almost make it to the top, but I trip 5 stairs away from my door - and fall, hard. Body laid out flat hard. Cheek scraped and stinging from the metal grating on the stairs, hard. Lost the goddamned slide that caught on the stair, and can see it gradually falling, bouncing and rolling down the stairs, hard. I lift my head and see blood on the stair. I feel it running down my face. All I can think is that this really fucking hurts. The tears come, a combination of pain and frustration, and I pick myself up and stumble my way into my apartment, completely forgetting about the attractive rich boy who just watched me be a danger and inconvenience to myself.

I rush to the kitchen and grab a roll of paper towels, and run to the bathroom, I see the markings in the mirror and can tell it will leave a sizeable scar. Do I need stitches? I don’t know. Anyway, I start dabbing at everything and blood is still oozing out of every nook and cranny, to my displeasure. I’m about to start bandaging my face when I hear a knock on my door. “Fucking Christ!” I mutter to myself as I slap a wad of paper towels on my face and sulkily go to fling open my door.

I’m not sure who I’m expecting, but to see the same rich guy on my doorstep, slide in hand, probably wasn’t it. “Hey, um, I saw what happened, and I thought you might want your shoe back.” His accent sounds very British - I was expecting it to sound more like a snooty Frenchman’s.

“Oh. Um. Thanks.” I say flatly.

As my muscles twitch to begin closing the door, he says, “Would you like some help cleaning that up? I have certifications to give medical aid... and stitches. My name’s Blaise, by the way.”

Doctor, maybe? Probably. “Sure,” I say, opening the door wider and standing back so the blood doesn’t drip on his suit. “I’m y/n.”

A few minutes later we’re in my bathroom, me sitting on the toilet, him sitting on the bathtub as he helps me fix my face. “So, Mademoiselle y/n,” He asks, “Do you find yourself in these predicaments very often?”

“Which one? Poverty, flea bitten, or bloody?” I say.

“I suppose whichever you’d like to think I was referring to.”

“Well, in *that* case - I’m usually caught unawares in all kinds of predicaments - though I’d say self-injury due to clumsiness is an uncommon one. And do you usually find yourself in predicaments requiring you to treat someone’s wounds?”

“I used to, though now it’s only on the occasion.”

“Sounds like an improvement,” I note. “I won’t guarantee it, but I think I’ll get the hang of walking up the stairs soon enough, so you don’t have to worry about me.”

“I wouldn’t necessarily mind it if I did worry about you once or twice more. Why were you running? It seemed like you wanted to get away from something. Does your garbage compactor smell that disturbing?”

“It doesn’t smell great,” I admit, “But truth be told, I’m not a fan of human interaction. It’s scary. Especially when everything is new to me.”

“How long have you been In France?”

“A few days, just enough to get myself physically settled.”

“I see. And you are from America?”

“Mhm. Let me guess, my accent gave it away.”

“And the slang, I’ve yet to hear someone from France use certain terms that you seem to favor.”

“Oh, most of my slang is specific to my city, not just my country.”

“Your city?”

“Yea, Tacoma. It’s near Seattle, if you know where that is. Tacoma’s better, though.”

“I’ve heard of it, but I’ve never been there. My mother is a fashion designer, but she only travels where there’s inspiration or a business deal.” So that’s how he gets the expensive clothes. The rest of the money too, probably.

“Must be nice, having a handmade closet.” I muse. “Not that I care for having any more clothes than I brought. They’re pretty reliable, if I do say so myself.”

He laughs. “Yes, well, if the blood stains don’t come out of your jumpsuit you might need a new one. They shouldn’t be too difficult to remove, though.”

“Yea, I’ll just dump a bucket of Oxi-Clean on it and call it a day. That is, if any stores nearby have it.” I frown, realizing I have no clue if France carries any of the products I usually get. This is gonna suck. Hopefully the internet has some answers so I don’t have to ask anyone for help.

“Why don’t I take your jumpsuit back with me? Save you the trip. Believe it or not, I used to have chronic nosebleeds, so I know a thing or two about stain removal.” Blaise offers.

I smile, only just. “Well, if you insist. But I love this jumpsuit practically more than myself, so I expect it back right away!”

He returns the smile. “A fan of fashion? You ought to meet my mother.”

I chuckle. “I’m sure your mom would despise me - I only own seven jumpsuits and some athleisure for going on runs.” I pause, then tack on: “Oh, and some fuzzy pajamas for when I’m sick.”

Blaise cocks a brow at me. “And when you’re not sick?”

“Don’t worry about it.” I grin mischievously.

A wave of recognition graces his eyes, and he very quickly looks away, I assume for being flustered.

“You Americans, always so scandalous.” He tsks in mock scorn.

“That’s what we’re known for, is it not?” I say cheekily, “Beer, boobs and gun barrels. And all the other problems that come with that, but that’s a can of worms I am not looking to open today.”

He ties off his handiwork, and says, “It looks like my job is finished, other than stealing your jumpsuit off your back to fix it. I can wait in the other room, if you’d like?”

“Um, yea, that works. Lemme just, grab my next jumpsuit. Gonna have to do laundry early, I suppose-“

“I can wash your jumpsuit for you. I’m pretty good at reading labels, if I do say so myself.” He jokes.

“Oh?” I say, “Then you must be a real genius! Who taught you, Einstein?”

“No, but it was another white-haired, eccentric man, so you’re not that far off.”

“When all teachers are like that it’s kind of impossible not to hit relatively close to the mark.” I remark, then change clothes as quickly as I can, tossing the dirty outfit into a trusty plastic bag and tying it shut.

When I walk out to the living room, Blaise is toying with one of my sculptures. He’s definitely been meandering and lurking around. “Enjoying yourself?” I ask, at which he jumps. “You’re rather skittish, Blaise.”

“And you’re rather quiet on your feet, y/n.” He observes. “But yes, I quite like your eclectic style. If only you had an apartment that let your customization shine. Something more minimalist.”

“Yes, well, it’s something I’ll forever dream of and likely never accomplish. I don’t suspect I’m going to be someone leaving the income level I was born into.” I say, just a little bit cynical.

“And why is that?” He asks.

“Because most people don’t, and the ones who do are the ones who make money. My career isn’t going to make me money.” I reply.

“So why did you pick it?”

I sigh. “Because somebody has to care about the people like me. The politicians don’t, the middle class don’t, and the rich are hell bent on keeping us there so they can have factory workers and have people going straight to prison after they graduate because we’re all desperate and miserable.”

He frowns. “That’s terrible.”

“It’s reality. And I don’t want to be like the people who get rich and stop caring because all they see is the wage difference and pretend it’s justified so they don’t have to feel complicit in the system.” I look him in the eye, my face grim. “Not all luck is by chance. Most of it is by design.”

He nods. “I understand, in a way.”

“Everyone does.” I say. “But understanding in a way and caring enough to do something about it are two different things.” I look away from him when I see his posture change. “I’m not trying to be rude, but it’s impossible not to notice the wealth gap between us when you’re wearing designer clothes and living in what looks like a mansion and I’m living in a building made in like 1900 with no elevator. It’s just the way things are, though.”

“I know.” He says quietly, thoughtfully. “I’d better get going. Your clothes?” He reaches out tentatively for the bag I’m still holding.

“Oh. Right.” I say, handing it to him. Our fingers brush against each other slightly, and it sends chills down my spine. He heads to the door while I’m rooted to the spot, collecting myself.

“I look forward to seeing you again, y/n.” He nods, meeting my eyes with a rather changed expression.

“I’ll see you soon, then?” I ask, not quite sure which answer I’m expecting.

He smiles, only just. “As soon as I am able.” Seconds later, he’s out the door, and I’m alone in my dingy ass apartment. How in the fuck did any of that just happen?

[onlyplatonicirl]

Birfday Gorl UwU

@shandycandy278

------------------------------------

“A little to the left.”

“Like this?”

“A bit more.”

“Uh… here?”

“Slime does that look even a little bit symmetrical to you?”

“You’re literally impossible right now,” said Slime, tacking the banner in place regardless of Lorel’s immediate shrieking complaint. “Since when have you become so nit-picky about decoration placement and stuff? Your room looks like an atomic bomb went off in it.”

“Well good thing it’s not my room!” Lorel replied, clapping her hands together in agitation. She rocked on her heals at a very brisk pace, her eyes darting around the room. “Listen, at least just TRY to set this up right?? Also maybe stand on a chair instead of Andrew’s shoulders because if you fall it will not only kill you but them too.”

Andrew blinked at Lorel like she was stupid, their hands on Slime’s legs as the redhead wobbled to tack everything to the wooden banister, tongue sticking out in concentration. Slime exclaimed triumphantly once they successfully had it in place, throwing their hands back in glee. Unfortunately, that also offset their center of gravity.

Lorel turned her back as both of them shrieked and collapsed to the floor, already tuning out their incessant squabbling. The decorations were all set, for the most part. Light blue balloons were floating around the room, with the tablecloth, streamers, banners and confetti to match. The confetti was assumed to be blue, but they didn’t know for sure because it was compressed into cardboard cones, and planned to pop out when the guest of honor arrived. Various other creators scurried to and fro, adding to the ever-growing gift pile, setting up the potluck and adding a multitude of dishes, as well as making small talk amongst themselves before the event started. Lorel recognized the majority of them, and waved to a few of them as she made her way into the main kitchen, ducking under a tray carried by Nobody, with tons of little confectionaries.

But before she could get there, she ran into-

“Chai! How’s everything going?”

Chai laughed in return, giving Lorel a hug. “It’s going great. I’m so excited.”

“SAME,” Lorel said, accompanied with a slouch. “I’ve ben planning this for so long, especially these things.”

She stuck a thumb behind her, motioning to the massive yellow feathered wings that started at her shoulder blades and draped all the way to the floor, the gradient becoming lighter towards the end feathers. Chai raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah, I was going to comment on that,” she began. “Those don’t look like your usual, uh… pointy wings.”

“That’s because they aren’t,” Lorel said, running a hand through her hair to clear her eyes. “It took me two full months of studying anatomy and transmogrification with every book on the subject in the entirety of the Council’s Library to get these to form. The number of times I attempted to summon these properly only to result in an explosion of feathers is unreal. Synthia and the others got really tired coming back to find our quarters covered in yellow fluff.”

“Well I like them, they’re soft. But, why exactly???”

Lorel smiled softly. “I don’t know, I just thought it would be kind of sweet because… She always gives the fluffiest and softest hugs. I thought it would be nice if I was able to return the favor for once, to show her how great her trademarked “Floofy Hugs” are. Give her a taste of her own wonderful medicine, haha!”

Chai laughed. “Well, I’D like a floofy hug from you.”

“Once I even figure out how to get these things to fold and move properly? Sure. You can get floofy hugs too,” Lorel replied, smiling. “But we all know that I’m not as good at it.”

“HEY WHY ARE THOSE WINGS SO DISPROPORTIONATELY LARGE?” Someone across the room screamed. Without missing a beat, Lorel whipped around, almost smacking Chai in the face with the limbs she did not quite have the hang of yet.

“I DON’T KNOW, WHY IS YOUR BRAIN SO DISPROPORTIONATELY SMALL, LO??”

“HOW BAD CAN IT BE, LOREL?”

“IT’LL GET PRETTY BAD PRETTY QUICK IF YOU DON’T SHUT YOUR PIEHOLE.”

Chai was busy trying not to laugh herself into combustion, a hand over her mouth. Lorel looked at her, exasperated. “Excuse me for one moment. I need to go check up on the cake. If I stand still for long enough Lo starts trying to play paper-wad basketball with my halos.”

She and Chai gave each other a quick hug, before parting ways with “I love you!!!”’s on both sides.

Peeping her head in through the kitchen doorway, Lorel narrowly avoided a massive jawbreaker being flung across the room. Ly had been in charge of the cake, and it seemed to be going well. The ponkey girl was having a blast, a tube of icing in each hand, and letting out her more wild artistic side. Her tail curled happily in the air as she drew gravity defying shapes around the cake out of vanilla frosting. Lorel smiled and left. At least that was taken care of. But there was still a lot of other things to do. There were two many bodies in too small of a room. It was chaos, and she had signed up to oversee it all.

Lorel sighed. Why did she ever agree to running anything? The only mature thing about her was her physical age. Time to be the adult, I guess.

Climbing up a few steps to gain a slight leverage and trying not to trip over her new way-too-large wings, she clapped her hands to quell the silence. She soon had the attention of the room.

“OKAY,” she began. “HERE’S HOW THIS IS GONNA GO BEFORE MY WIFE ARRIVES—”

A single, large breath in.

“Lyn and Lynn, take watch outside for her. Blossom, make sure everyone’s got a party hat, and help Shadow and Template with the paintings if they need any. Lucky and Achro keep the streets secure, we don’t want any blockheads ruining our big day. Dey, Launch, Template, Poggers, Lily, both Alexes, Rawlyx and Zen are on exterior decoration duty. I want every corner of the roof tied with decorations. Ly’s finishing the cake, and she’ll need a handful of people to aid her in setting everything up. Smartie can attend to that, as well as Diamond. Slime and Andrew, I know I’m asking the impossible, but your job is to not be stupid for like - at least 2 minutes. AT LEAST. Everyone else find a good hiding spot and no shoving or pushing or summoning ancient celestial daggers or transforming into a five headed demons. Or you’re getting kicked out of the party. Scrub, be my monitor, would you? And Otter’s job is to keep being absolutely adorable and precious. Are we all clear?”

The whole building cheered, and Lorel finally sighed. Right next to her was Otter, who she promptly scooped up in her arms and kissed on the forehead with a very loud “mwah” to follow. Otter happily closed their eyes – a pseudo-smile.

“OKAY THEN. WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU ALL STILL STANDING AROUND FOR??? LET’S MOVE IT, LOSERS! GO GO GO GO GO!”

Everyone quickly bustled about, and Lorel set Otter back on the floor once again. Creators of every shape and size scrambled about, trying to find places to hide, and all the lights were shut off when the two Lyn(n)s gave the cue

“She’s coming she’s coming!”

The house went completely silent, save for the sound of footsteps approaching the door.

The handle turned-

And all the light’s clicked on. Everyone jumped up from behind the couch, and light blue confetti flew everywhere as everyone screamed in unison.

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY SHANDY!!!!!!!!!”

--------------------------

HAPPY BIRTH SHANDYYYYYYYY ILSYM SORRY I DIDNT FINISH THIS YESTERDAY AAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

IM GONNA TAG THE MAIN PPL IN THIS FIC BC IM A LITTLE BIT PRESSED FOR TIME RN AND I DONT HAVE TIME TO TAG EVERYONE BUT ILL LINK IT SO AAAAAAA

Mainly Featuring:

@andrewture @156lemongummies @greetings-and-yeetings @chais-chaos-corner @puuuddiing @lookyeekiti

AS WELL AS THE AMAZING @shandycandy278 AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

ILYSMMM

This fic takes place in @creatorverse

[eloqvents]

♡  ◟ °  ›   lucy boynton, female, she/her, twenty three   ⋯   ❛   thank you for applying to SEX AND THE TITTY, ELODIE MONET ! before we start this job interview, i would just like to go over a few questions. you said your best attribute was DEBONAIR, right ? well, word around town is that some people find you to be a bit more GUARDED… but, nevermind that. i’m actually more curious about whether you were actually caught DRUNKENLY SERENADING OUTSIDE OF YOUR EX’S HOUSE AT 3 AM last year ? oh, you were ? that’s unfortunate. on the bright side, i heard that you excel at COOKING …. so that’s cool ! now, one more question … your last manager said that you’re hiding THAT YOU PRETENDED TO GO TO REHAB TWO YEARS AGO BECAUSE YOU WERE PREGNANT, is that true ? — haha , just kidding ! they didn’t say that, i just read that about you online . anyway , you got the job ! ❜ 】 eri, pst, she/her. 

hello all ! it’s eri once again with another muse bc we just can’t get enough. anyway, please excuse how shitty this intro is going to be bc i am lacking sleep.

ok to start off, her parents are loaded so she’s very wealthy. original from la, her father was a well-known producer and her mother a stay at home mom. long story short, their marriage was a far cry from a happily ever after. growing up watching their parents fall apart, elodie and her brother latched onto each other and he remained her wall. it was painfully obvious however that their father favored the other, whether it be because he was the only son, or how musically and theatrically inclined he was... and she found herself thrown off to the side much like her mother, except a lot stricter rules set in place that she found herself easily breaking. curfew? forget it. no boys? she was sneaking them in all too often.... but even more easily having her girl “friends” over for sleepovers with no questions asked. she began resenting her father early on and it only grew the more rules, until finally she threw all caution to the wind and fell off the expected monet route.

by 15 she was known as the party girl. she did her school work most of the time, kept good enough grades to keep her parents off at least that aspect of her life. going out every weekend, never coming home on time or just refusing to answer her phone. she was a hellion, with no cares in the world, and she simply lived with no worries and absolutely no care or respect toward her parent's wishes. they virtually gave up on controlling their daughter by the time she was 17, clearly making her own choices and took no bother in chastising her as they knew their efforts would get them nowhere.

despite the dysfunction of the family, they did vacation to stone harbor every summer which had become some of elodie’s favorite memories of her younger years ( i would love any plot referencing her coming back every year and what not ok )

at 18 she had a choice. college, or follow her heart. new york was calling, as much fun as she had in la... it just wasn’t quite it. and new york was so exciting. the following summer she found herself back in stone harbor, unable to resist the tradition but instead opting to stay the summer..... except she never left. with all the fond memories she held in the place, and finally being far away from her family, she felt like she’d found herself. or at least the closest to home she’d ever had.

we gonna skip ahead to her getting pregnant three years ago, which is something she told no one (not even the potential father). the day she found out she was packing her bags and leaving stone harbor with no word, instead of leaving a note for her roommate ( plot wanted ) at the time, and sending out a group text explaining she had decided to go to rehab. it seemed like a good excuse, not a complete lie considering she did not touch any alcohol or substance during her pregnancy. she instead went and stayed with her aunt and uncle in london.

she went back and forth on what she wanted to do, spending her days swaying back and forth between keeping the baby and starting a fresh life or putting it up for adoption. but after a particularly painful depressive episode, she decided for the safety of both of them she had to give her baby girl up. this is when her aunt and uncle said they would take the baby in, not wanting to separate family, and it is a secret she’s kept in to this day.

coming back from rehab, she had changed. at first cold, extremely depressed, and she wanted to stay away from her prior addictions but within a few weeks she was right back into it. drinking nearly daily, taking whatever pills or drugs were offered, although she was much more cautious when it came to sex. becoming quite a bit pickier when it comes to men, however her love for women only seemed to grow.. likely due to the fact she could not get pregnant that way.

she’s had her ups and downs, about six months ago she came back from a few months at rehab once again after an especially harsh bender that landed her in the hospital. sobriety has continuously and still continues to be a struggle for her. she swore up and down that she wanted the help after begging her parents to pay ( not wanting to dip into her own hefty inheritance ) for her to go back, although within a month she found herself dabbling in other substances, occasionally taking a little too many of her medications at once, and having a drink, or two, or three....

while she was staying with her aunt in france, she spent a lot of time cooking with the elder woman and it became the most therapeutic thing to her... at least without getting high.. it’s become one of the only things that can genuinely distract her, although she does become a master chef when you add a little pot to the mix, but she hardly counts that against sobriety anyway.

personality-wise elodie doesn’t really hold back her opinion, and although she won’t go out of her way to avoid stepping on toes, she will try to make things as least confrontational as possible. in her opinion, life has shoved her around enough and she prefers to not allow anyone the excuse to do it too. but........ in those cases she will probably show her temper and make sure people know she isn’t going to be walked all over. she’s very upbeat, tries her hardest to be excited for life each day ( or pops an extra xanny if it’s a particularly hard day ). however.. her bad days are bad. if she’s down enough its nearly impossible to get her out of bed for anything other than a shower. some are harder than others, especially nearing the birthdate of her daughter delaney ( 2 currently ). 

a few more facts bc this is long uh: she writes a letter every day to her daughter and saves it in a special box kept secret in her room. she dabbles in poems and other types of prose, and has a goal of one day writing and illustrating her own childrens book in dedication to her daughter. she has a lot of money and could technically afford to not work, however she took a bartending job at sex and the titty for side cash and to send a monthly check to help support her daughter. and laaaaastly, she is kind of a hopeless romantic and loves romcoms way too much. she is 100% the type that believes very strongly in love but just ... sucks at it. she’s scared to commit herself but she’s also not afraid to shout from the rooftops ??? rn she’s trying to work on herself so 

oh and here is a playlist and pinterest for her even tho she wasn’t here for the task:)))

connection ideas ( plots page currently in progress )

an ex who she serenaded drunk at 3 am bc that rumor is definitely real

possible baby daddy

her old roommate that she bailed on, can be positive or negative

a best friend, like the blair and serena type ( minus all the fighting ... or not ) that can tell each other and count on the other for anything

exes in general, good, bad, ugly, any and all.

slow burn ??? or the one that got away ??? or maybe they just keep missing each other ???

maybe an enemy or someone she had a falling out with in the past

ANYONE SHE USD TO HANG OUT WITH IN THE SUMMER BEFORE ACTUALLY LIVING THERE. gimme them long term friendships / relationships

a good influence // the person who tries to help her not keep fucking her life up

alternatively .. the bad influence that encourages and participates in a lot of not so good activities with her

tbh i just want anything and everything so throw any ideas at me bc i’ll probably be in

listen i know i forgot like 239523852 things and rambled on too much but i just love her and could go on forever. 

[lokishornns]

Make a Wish 1

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masterlist

mcu masterlist

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pairing: Loki x Reader

type: series, fluff with some comedy

rating: pg-13

summary: You’re a new employee for the Make a Wish foundation, struggling to make a living in the ever expensive New York City. When your boss (who, for the record, hates your guts) assigns an impossible task as a way to get you fired, you do everything in your power to make a kid happy. Even if that does include getting face to face with the most hated man in the city.

word count: 1919

warnings: cursing probably

notes: this was a prompt from somewhere, i dont remember because i saw it so long ago. also im grounded rn so all i can do is pop on and post, i’m sorry that i can’t check requests!

[Part 2]

—

You stumble through the doors of the Avengers tower, water puddling at your feet and your hair covering your view. You push your hair away hastily, smiling sheepishly at the receptionist who looks thoroughly annoyed that you possibly dripped water into her lobby. You step onto the mat by the front door, brushing water off of your jacket and pants before jogging over to the desk that the receptionist still eyes you warily. You flash a nervous smile, digging into your purse. You sigh in relief as you pull out your business and security card.

“Hi, I’m-”

“Hold on just a second,” her shrill voice causes you to pause as her bony finger holds up right in front of her purse. Your face flushes red and you nod with a tight lipped smile.

Today was a journey. You had been running everywhere attempting to find something, or shall you say someone, who was quickly showing that this mission would be impossible. You had checked all areas of previous sightings, even hacked into a newspaper’s database for witnesses – which you were guessing was highly illegal – and nothing was coming up. The Avengers Tower was a last resort, yet here you were, soaking wet in the middle of the lobby at the mercy of a very annoyed receptionist.

“Name and business?” her voice brings you out of your thoughts, her narrow eyes glaring into your soul.

“Oh, um,” you tell her your name, halting in your phrase as she types your name into some sort of database. “I’m with the Make a Wish Foundation with the intention to talk to-” you freeze for a moment, realizing you weren’t really looking for anyone in particular, “any of the Avengers.” You hand her your cards, watching quietly as her fingers dance across the keyboard, inputting some sort of information.

“It does not appear you have a scheduled meeting with any of the team members,” she says, looking over the rim over her glasses at the screen before glancing back to you. Your face falls at the mention of a meeting, internally cursing yourself for your carelessness. “Would you like me to schedule one?”

“When is the next available time?” you ask, biting the inside of your cheek. To be quiet honest, you were clueless in what to do. You were a low level employee for the foundation with no prior experience or training except in finance and material management. You had been given this task by your superior who absolutely hated your guts as he found it rather funny to see you struggling. It was a joke task that everyone knew you would never be able to complete, but you still had to try.

“In two months. There’s an opening for Hawkeye,” you groan at her high-pitched voice, putting your head down on the counter. You were going to lose your job and let a cancer patient lose their dream of meeting their most idolized person. Why they idolized him, you had no clue, but who were you to deny him of his Wish?

“Are you sure? I mean, if they have like ten minutes, that’s all I nee-”

“Ma’am,” the woman started, a strained smile stretching her mouth. “If you do not answer my question, I will be forced to ask security to remove you,” she said and you closed your eyes tightly, opening them slowly to stare at the woman, your jaw clenching.

“Listen, I have been on my feet for a solid eight hours. I have ran through the pouring rain all over the city. I haven’t eaten anything since yesterday. There is a kid sitting at a hospital right now, wondering why the person they idolize the most isn’t paying a five minute visit to make their day or help them get through the next surgery. So I’m sorry if I seem a little impatient, but I really need to talk to one of the Avengers,” I grit my teeth, the words spitting out aggressively.

Her eyes widen a fraction at your burst, soon squinting and leaning forwards to you. She grabs a small screen off of the counter, pressing buttons furiously. Realization washes over you and your face flushes bright red. Her mouth opens, prepared to yell something, before a booming voice causes both of you to jump.

“Miss Helda! How is your day?” you turn to see a huge mountain of muscles, topped with a bright smile and shoulder length blond hair. Your mouth drops at the sight of the god, shocked to see Thor – the thunder god – wearing sweats and walking around casually. Your face turns an even deeper shade of red at the sight of him if that’s even possible.

“Good evening, Thor,” the receptionist grumbles and you look at her, surprised at the tone she used with the hero. He only seems amused at her irritated attitude, laughing slightly at her scrunched face.

“What is this lovely lady doing here?” you look behind you, confused when you see no one behind you. You look back to the man who is staring directly at you, your eyes flying open in shock.

“Me?” you ask, pointing to yourself.

“Yes, you!” he laughs loudly and you freeze in surprise.

“She was just being escorted out,” Helda snaps, glaring at you. In the midst of the celebrity appearance, you had forgotten about your burst in the lobby, now being harshly reminded.

“Nonsense, she will join me,” he says, walking over to you and Helda with large steps. Helda mumbles something most likely about a pair of idiots and rolls her eyes at his antics, but seemingly unsurprised. Thor might possibly be a security risk, but nobody seems to be able to control him. Your feet feel as if they are bolted to the floor as the large golden retriever lumbers over to you.

His hand slaps on your shoulder, causing you to wince, but he practically drags you along, causing your feet to stumble and almost slip. You stay silent, unable to form any coherent words towards your blond savior in sweatpants. Once in the elevator, the huge god leans down towards your ear.

“Do not fret, mortal. I overheard your conversation. Helda is quite troubling, but all with good intent,” he whispers and you turn your head to him. “You also are able to talk, correct?” he asks, an amused smile on his face.

“O-oh yeah. Sorry, I’m just – You just possibly saved my job,” you blabber, cringing slightly as you realize how embarrassing your words were.

“Funny, people don’t usually say their job,” he says with a large smile, and before you can apologize, the doors slide open, displaying the lounge room that’s always displayed on the news or in random pictures on Instagram.

“Thor, where did you pu-” a voice sounds from your right and you whip your head to face blue eyes and short, blond hair. Your mouth opens widely, not expecting to come face to face with the living representation of righteousness. “Who is this?” he asks, an eyebrow raising at your wet appearance.

“This lady is with that organization that you grant genies,” Thor says, clearly pleased with himself.

“Wishes,” you say, clarifying the confusion between you and the Captain. “I work for the Make a Wish foundation,” you smile nervously, knowing that if anyone here was to shut down your request, it would be Captain America. The only way you could market this to him would be with pulling on his emotional strings.

“Hi, I’m Steve Rogers,” he says, holding out a hand and you introduce yourself, hesitantly shaking his hand. You smile, gulping at his iron grip. “Sorry, but do you mind me asking what you’re doing up here, ma’am?” he asks, his brows drawing together slightly. You stutter slightly, looking at the mountain of muscles that stands besides you.

“I – uh,” you start, unsure of what to say. You hadn’t expected to come so far. “I was assigned a Wish for a cancer patient by the name of Cody and he has a specific Wish that he would love to be filled by his idol,” you say, your heart rate rising.

“Usually they contact us through Tony,” Steve eyes you warily, glancing at your sopping clothes. Your ears go pink, a clear sign of embarrassment.

“About that,” you pause, biting the inside of your cheek, “you aren’t the people who this boy wants to meet.”

“Well then, what can we do to help?” he asks, content with your answer.

“I was hoping you can help me contact him,” you say, pulling a scrunched face. At the sight of Steve’s confusion, you huff. “To cut things short, I need you to help me contact Loki Laufeyson, your main enemy,” you sigh. Your words cause Steve’s jaw to tick and his gaze hardens.

“I don’t believe we can help with anything,” Steve looks over to Thor, giving him a slight nod. You meet Thor’s soft stare, as if some unknown emotion is triggered by the mention of his brother. His hand grips your upper arm, starting to pull you back to the elevator. Your eyebrows raise in panic and you immediately rip your shoulder back, wincing at the pain that shoots through your shoulder. Thor’s eyes train on you, surprise filling his expression.

“Hold on, before you take me away, please just hear me out,” you look into Steve’s eyes, your eyes narrowing. “I know how it sounds, but I really need to find Loki. This kid is in the final stages of his condition and he doesn’t have very long. My boss gave me the assignment because everyone but me has given up on this kid. I am not about to let this eight year old kids dream fall through because a man in spandex and sparklers over here is refusing to contact their emo teenage arch nemesis. If you are hesitant because of the kids safety, do remember how many kids you put in danger every time you decide to bust a couple random gun dealers. He may not even accept, I don’t know, but I sure as hell won’t let you get in the way of the one thing that may still matter to this kid,” you bite out, not realizing that in the process you had stood up straighter and had almost backed Steve into a wall. His mouth had fallen open in the process, unable to get past the fact that a woman in the soaking and seemingly weak state she appeared had just stood up to the great Captain America.

“I like her,” a voice echoes and your head turns to see Tony Stark approaching you, his ridiculous glasses on.

“Why do you have your glasses on, its dark outside?” you ask, your nose scrunching up.

“Hangover, dear. It knocks down the strongest,” he says and you nod stiffly.

“Now, let’s go contact reindeer games,” he smirks, turning around abruptly. You stare after him, surprised at his response. It takes a glance at you to shake you out of your state of shock. You run after him, trailing water in your wake.

Steve and Thor stare after you, watching as you turn the corner. Steve looks to Thor and notices his entranced expression, laughing slightly.

“Thor, you have Jane,” he reminds the god, and Thor turns to him with wide eyes.

“That’s her,” he says and Steve’s eyebrows furrow. “That’s who Loki’s going to marry.” Steve snorts and rolls his eyes, but Thor remains in place, his mind reeling.

[argotmagazine-blog]

Dear Worrier Princess: On Polyamory Pickles and College Coming Out Conundrums

Queery #1: Last summer I (32, queer) met someone (26, baby dyke) at the farmers market near my house, she lives in a town 2 hours away near the farm she works at. We started hanging out as friends and realized we had giant crushes on each other. We saw each other on & off through the winter. Now it’s April, & we really like each other, and have had fun sex a couple of times. The thing is: she says she doesn’t want a relationship—she’s busy farming, working 60+ hrs/wk and can’t commit to being in touch or making time to visit me. She also says she’s still processing her last relationship (5 yrs! her first queer relash!) so she needs to figure some stuff out. I totally get it. However, her actions are different from her words: she stays in touch a BUNCH and when we are together, she says a lotta stuff that feels VERY girlfriendy to me.

We both have established that we love hanging out, we feel fun and comfortable, we care a lot about each other, and we learn a lot from each other. I feel a lotta love between us although we haven’t said ILY but rn it doesn’t feel like we need that. For me, I really like her, I love hanging out w her. At the same time, I DO want to be in a relationship, but I don’t think a monogamous long-distance relationship would work for me. If I’m going to date someone I have needs! and want to have a lot of sex!! And only seeing someone like every other week *at most* doesn't feel enough, and if we’re monogamous, maybe there’d be a lot of pressure on those times to have a good time.

She is not comfortable with polyamory, specifically with me having sex with other people in the same time period as with her.  My question is about ethics, tact, care, and timing:: Should I break up with her now, knowing that inevitably I will be boning some local person? There is no one else in the picture right now but I would like to be dating people; I also really don’t want her to feel like a “placeholder,” you know? That would feel like a shitty dynamic.  Or, should we continue to “love each other while we can”? We’ve tried being just friends before and it was sad, there’s like this string that keeps wrapping each other together. Should I keep hanging out with her until it gets to a point where I am seeing another local person and want to bone them too? I’m feeling stuck between a rock & a hard spot, & it feels like an ethical decision which i don’t have the answer for. I want to be responsible and not be a douchebag.

I did not expect to see the words “she lives in a town 2 hours away” followed by “long-distance relationship.” As a lesbian from the Midwest, I have driven two hours for really good beef jerky and that is NOT a double-entendre. Two hours is not long-distance in my book, but I digress. We’re talking about you, not me and my horndog travels.

You’re in a pickle—an organic, free-range pickle from the farmers market, but still a pickle. You want an open relationship. Your farm boo does not. You want to spend more time together, but she’s overwhelmed by a semi-recent heartbreak and intense farming schedule. Neither of you are willing to compromise. This is a situation I see all the time here at Dear Worrier Princess: two people recognize that fundamental aspects of relationship aren’t working, but they stay together because the relationship is familiar and has redeeming qualities like good sex, rapport, or mutual love and care.

To be honest, it sounds like your farm boo is someone who wants what she wants when she wants it. The following sentences set off some alarms for me: “she can’t commit to being in touch or making time to visit me” followed by “she stays in touch a BUNCH and when we are together, she says a lotta stuff that feels VERY girlfriendy.” This is a boundaries issue and it’s 100% something you should discuss with her. Say something like, “It’s confusing for me when you say our relationship is one way, but then you text me frequently and say things like [EXAMPLE 1] and [EXAMPLE 2].” Similarly, you keep deciding to be friends and sliding back into romance-territory. This doesn’t mean you’re fated to be together, it means you need better boundaries and a solid chunk of time without any contact. I’m also wondering, during these stretches when you’re supposed to be friends, who escalates things? Who sends the first sext? Might be something to think about.

Is it wrong to date someone you don’t want to be with forever? No. I think most relationships fall into this camp. As long as you’re mindful not create a placeholder dynamic (which I interpret to mean becoming a dismissive or callous partner), it’s fine to see an end on the horizon. However, it’s never as simple as, “we’ll just date until things naturally end.” Even in the best of circumstances, breakups are hard. What if you meet someone available and local, but you’re still raw from the breakup? What if you struggle to establish post-breakup boundaries with your farm boo and this causes tension in your new relationship?

My advice is to set a course towards friendship, though I also understand how difficult it can be to end a relationship without the solid impetus of a fight or someone new. Ask yourself: if I end this relationship now, will I regret not spending more time together? If I keep seeing her, will my feelings become stronger and make it more difficult to separate? Is the agony is worth the ecstasy? Only you can decide.

Queery #2: Last semester (my first semester of college) I was pretty into this girl I thought was straight or at least very closeted. Almost immediately after returning to school after winter break we both got very drunk and ended up hooking up that night. Since then we've continued to see each other and the relationship seems to be getting more and more serious; however, only as long as we are in very private spaces. The only people who know about it are my friends and her friends all seem to believe that I am tragically in love with her, a straight girl. I have never been in any sort of serious relationship, I only first hooked up with a girl last semester but I've been out and open about my sexuality with those close to me for the past three years. I've tried to initiate conversations with her about this, which is hard as she freezes up with any sort of difficult topic that requires talking about ones emotions. We've gotten a little better at these conversations lately and it seems like she also wants a more serious relationship and wants to be able to be more public about it. In the past few weeks she has told one of the people she is living with as well as a close friend but it still seems like we're stuck in this strange place. I don't want to pressure her to do anything she feels very uncomfortable doing and I also recognize that feeling like I am, in a way, going back into the closet to be there with her is unhealthy for me. How do I keep my frustration for our current situation from clouding the good parts, if that's possible? Lately this is about all I think about or want to talk about and I find myself often getting stuck on these negative aspects. How can I best support her without damaging my own wellbeing?

While reading this queery, I realized that my first semester of college was TEN YEARS AGO. My mom drove me to Staples to buy an ethernet cable because my my dorm didn’t have wifi—that’s how we lived in 2009. I can confirm, in extreme retrospect, that your first year of college is overwhelming. It’s no small thing to leave home for the first time, make new friends, and balance coursework/relationships/a job. And then, on top of all that, your girlfriend is smacked with her own queerness and everything it entails. It’s a lot!

It doesn’t help that “coming out" is one of those those terms like “hooking up” or “middle class”—we pretend it’s this definite thing, when it actually means something different to everyone. As a femme lesbian, I come out to new people when it feels safe and pertinent. My butch friends, on the other hand, rarely get to come out on their own terms. Some people take years to come out, others make a snap decision and tell the world via Facebook. I have friends who are openly gay in the United States, but are closeted to their parents and extended families in their countries-of-origin. Sometimes I get DMs from women who say Instagram is their only queer outlet because marriage and other life circumstances make coming out impossible. On the opposite end of the spectrum, I meet a lot of young people who grew up in affirming homes and were exposed to queer adults and culture at an early age. All this to say that I totally agree with you: you can’t pressure your girlfriend to come out before she’s ready. I applaud you for recognizing that her life and decisions are hers and hers alone.

None of this changes the fact that your relationship makes you feel Bad. When you’ve escaped the deep closet, dating someone who’s struggling with self-acceptance can dredge up all sorts of insecurities and painful memories. It feels shitty to be someone’s secret; it implies that your sexuality is shameful and wrong. Like, have you ever had a friend who body-shamed themselves constantly and said stuff like “I’m so fat and disgusting”? Even though their comments aren’t directed at you, you come away feeling self-conscious and weird. Shame is contagious like that.

All relationships require compromise, but how do you know when you’re compromising too much? What do you owe yourself and what do you owe your partner? I ask myself these questions all the time. Kind of recently, I dated someone who habitually snapped at me. Like one time, we were walking dogs in a snowstorm and I joked that I could kick snow over the poop and it would be the perfect crime. They were full-on like, “THAT WILL CONTAMINATE OUR WATER SUPPLY.” It stung. Despite all this, I liked them a lot. I was in extreme cuffing mode and really, really wanted to be in a relationship. We talked it over and I left the conversation feeling hopeful. They acknowledged their outbursts and apologized, but the snapping kept happening to varying degrees. I could still feel the worst part of our relationship wearing me down. I kept second-guessing myself: “am I annoying? Am I difficult to spend time with? Is everything I say stupid and destructive to Wisconsin waterways?”

I turned to a friend for advice. L, who recently ended a complicated and bittersweet relationship, had the perfect response. I’m going to leave you with the text she sent me: “It’s your choice to stay in an imperfect relationship. Just make sure you’re staying because y’all are communicating openly and making the necessary changes. Stay cause you have a plan and solid reasons to believe things will get better, NOT cause you’re afraid of hurting her or afraid of being alone.”

dear worrier princess answers your qs about love and strife in relationships in this complex and modern queer world.

shoot an email to worrierprincess@argotmagazine.com or fill out the form below.

Maddy Court is an artist and writer based in Madison, WI. Keep up with her on Twitter @worrierprincess, or on instagram @xenaworrierprincess.

 All illustrations for this column are done by Sid Champagne. Sid is a freelance illustrator based in Baltimore by way of the Gulf Coast. You can find them on Twitter @sid_champagne, or Instagram (more cat pics) @sidchampagne

[avocadolouie]

Hii Uhm I’m going through some shit rn about an abusive (not physically) ex and I’m really down could I ask you to write a Drabble of Lou and H comforting their queer son over a boy? With H as pop/papa and Lou as Dad. It would make me love you to the moon and back twice. Bc I already love you to the moon and back❤️ doesn’t have to be too long :)

alright my friend here we go! featuring your other requests of a sweet boy named Holden around 19 years old coming home from uni heartbroken and being comforted by his wonderful loving parents Harry and Louis. i hope you enjoy it, lovely! ❤️ :’)

“How is he?” Harry whispers from the upstairs hallway, keeping his voice low as he leans into his husband.

Louis sighs, shaking his head as he glances across the hall at their son’s closed bedroom door. “He doesn’t want to talk about it. I’ve knocked twice already and I don’t want to crowd him or anything but…I’m really worried about him, H.”

Their nineteen year old son, who last they heard was having a brilliant time at uni, had shown up at their door step completely unannounced in the middle of the night. And at first, Harry and Louis were thrilled that their son came home to them, but when they noticed the heavy bags pulling at Holden’s usually bright blue eyes, now red rimmed and horribly puffy, they immediately grew with concern.

Holden said all around five words to them before bolting upstairs to his room, locking the door behind him. It’s completely out of character for him, he’s usually so open and forthcoming with his parents. Harry and Louis have never had a hands-off approach to parenting, and they pride themselves on having real, honest relationships with all of their kids.

And out of all three of their children, Holden has always been the most transparent about how he’s feeling. He’s the sweetest kid, a bit goofy at times, possessing the same silly streak as his father, but still so gentle and kindhearted. As their oldest and only son, Holden is incredibly responsible and fiercely protective over his younger sisters, always an active and lively presence in the house when he’s at home and to see him so drawn from his usual self is starting to take a heavy toll on his parents.

“I know babe, I’m worried too.” Harry pulls his bottom lip through his teeth anxiously. “He’s been locked in there for hours—is it wrong that I want to kick the door down just to see if he’s alright?”

“If you don’t do it, I’m about to.” Louis decides, sounding perfectly serious. “It’s his fucking dick of a boyfriend, I know it.”

“Louis.” Harry turns to him.

“What, Harry?” Louis protests. “You hate him too. He’s a total ass and we never liked him.”

“But to be fair, we’ve never actually met him either.”

No, they haven’t met the kid, but from the way Holden described him in passing one time, Louis already knew he was trouble. Holden hadn’t said much about him, illusive in the way he spoke, evasive when it came to details, which was already a clear indication of the quality of the relationship. Every parent wants the very best for their child, that’s a given, but from the moment Holden briefly mentioned him, Louis knew his son deserved better.

“It doesn’t matter.” Louis grumbles, frowning as he continues to stare at the closed door, biting his lip with worry.

“Lou, we don’t know for sure…” Harry tries, wrapping Louis up in his arms. “Maybe he’s just overwhelmed about school or something?”

“Harry…” Louis glances up at him, eyes serious.

Harry sighs heavily then, mirroring the trepidation in Louis’ eyes, already knowing his husband is right.

“Of course I don’t want it to be true, I don’t want to be right. Who wants to hear about how some punk ass kid broke their child’s heart?” Louis’ expression is saddened as he speaks, voice quiet. “And you know he was so gone for that boy…it’s his first real boyfriend—I just don’t want to see him hurting…”

“I know, baby.” Harry nods just as sadly, pulling Louis in closer to his chest. “At least he came home to us.” He tries to look for the positive. “He could have gone anywhere and if he came home, he must feel the safest here.”

“Do something, Harry please…” Louis begs, holding Harry’s hand with both of his. “We can’t leave our baby alone in there, he needs us. Even if he doesn’t know it.”

Harry leans in to press a long, reassuring kiss to Louis’ forehead, trying to ease his worries as best he can. He tugs at Louis’ hand, crossing the short spans of hallway to their son’s room together.

“Holden?” Harry calls gently, knuckles hitting the wood of the door. He keeps his voice even, but impossibly warm and so filled with love. “Hey little H, can we maybe talk for a second?”

“I don’t really want to talk right now, Papa…” A quiet, timid voice comes through the door. It sounds nothing like Holden’s usual bubbling voice and Louis absolutely hates it. And then there’s a sniffle, teary and heavy and awful and Louis swears to god, he’s only half a second from busting the goddamn door down.

Harry squeezes Louis’ hand tighter and Louis knows he shares a similar sentiment, features pulled by creased, worried lines. “Ok…we don’t have to talk just yet…” He answers softly. “We only want to know if you’re ok.”

“We’re just worried about you, Holden…please…” Louis tries, crowded against Harry by the door. “Are you ok, love?”

There’s a long pause that stretches on far longer than either Louis or Harry can reasonably handle, but it’s the small, distant and horribly broken-hearted, “No…” that comes from the other side that really does them in.

Louis and Harry exchange the same exact look, a look of total concern and distress over their child.

“Oh sweetheart, please let us in.” Harry begs, doing a horrible job of keeping the raw desperation out of his tone, but Louis can’t rightly blame him. “You don’t have to talk if you don’t want to, I promise…just let us in…”

Another quiet moment stretches on, Harry and Louis practically becoming nearly one with the bedroom door, pressed closely against it as they wait for any signs of life or movement.

And when Holden finally does open the door, Louis wastes not a single moment barreling into the room, pulling his son in for the tightest, warmest hug he can manage.

“Ugh Dad, you’re so embarrassing, god…” Holden tries to protest, as any teenage boy would, but he isn’t actually fighting the comfort in any way, instead burying his head further against Louis’ chest and squeezing him tightly.

“I know, I’m so embarrassing.” Louis nods knowingly, pressing a kiss to his boy’s mess of curls. “I’ll always be embarrassing over you, no matter how old you get.”

Harry huddles in close to rub soothing patterns to Holden’s back and when the tears inevitably start to fall down his cheeks, Harry’s right there to softly brush them away.

They hold their eldest child, who seems to have been far from home for far too long, they hold him until the saltwater tracking his face begins to slow, until he feels totally safe again.

“I’ve missed you guys.” Holden admits through a whisper.

“I know, H…we’ve missed you too.” Harry tells him. “The house is never the same when you’re gone.”

“It’s way too quiet and there’s no one here to help me anymore when I can’t get my computer to work.” Louis admits as lightheartedly as he can manage.

It’s small, but Holden cracks a little smile at that, further burying his head against Louis.

“Ready to tell us what happened, love?” Louis asks, pulling back just enough to see his face.

“Not really but…” He swipes at his teary eyes and slowly nods his head. “Ok.”

They settle onto Holden’s bed, Harry and Louis flanking him on either side with their arms draped around their son’s shoulders like a cocoon. It could potentially be argued that as parents, he and Harry are far too affectionate, but they wouldn’t dare change a thing.

“You want the whole story?” Holden peeks up at them.

“If you can talk about it, we only want to help you.” Harry says.

“Ok…but…you can’t get mad.” Holden pleads, looking up with wide eyes still lined in red. “It’s hard enough as it is.”

They both nod their heads, vowing to remain as neutral as possible. Even though it’s nearly impossible with the tempers he and Harry have, brought on by any sign of harm to their children.

“I um…well—remember when I told you about James…” Holden starts off slowly, avoiding eye contact with either of them.

Louis tenses automatically and he can feel his husband do the same, both of them already weary of how this story is going to go because both of them already have their opinions of James. It’s the same opinion really, the only opinion, that he’s a fucking prick. But still Louis reminds himself to just let his son talk, not to jump to conclusions and most of all not to lose control of his emotions.

“I never really told you but…we met at a party…my first uni party and I wasn’t even going to go, but I dunno? I feel like I never really do the ‘cool’ thing so I went.” Holden explains nervously, pushing a hand through his flopping curls. “So um yeah, he was there and—he’s popular, like, so popular. Everyone knows him, he’s like the unofficial king of the school or something. I didn’t think he would notice me…I mean he can have whoever he wants but…I dunno…when he saw me, he didn’t look away. He watched me the whole night long and eventually he came over and we started talking—just casually, you know? And I don’t quite remember everything…I drank a lot…because he said I should and I can never hold my alcohol properly, but I really wanted to impress him, so I did it anyway.”

What a fucking predator, Louis thinks to himself, hardly able to control his growing anger and when he glances over at Harry, his furrowed expression indicates he feels the same. Harry glances at Louis, wordlessly expressing his frustration.

Not to be those dads, who are always boasting about their kids, but their son is gorgeous, growing taller everyday with a heap of light brown golden curls on his head and freckles dusting his cheekbones and a wonderfully lopsided smile. But at the same time, he’s so very innocent and genuine in his interactions with people, completely trusting of just about everyone and he’s the type of boy that gives pieces of himself away blindly, wearing his big heart on his sleeve. Holden’s not used to the attention the looks he’s just now starting to grow into will garner, but it’s not at all surprising that the jock of the school noticed him right away.

“After that we started to hang out a lot and he’d invite me to go places with him—places not just anyone can go to and I dunno…I felt special or something.” Holden sighs to himself as though embarrassed about it now. “He was so nice at first…so nice and lovely and sweet, and he said he wanted me to be his and only his and I was really happy because I wanted that too.” His voice starts to get shakier and uncertain as he continues, stuttering every so often. “But t-then he started to get more demanding w-when I didn’t want to do things with him…and he never treated me the same when we were out with his friends. He treated me like…like I wasn’t good e-enough for him and…and…he was always mad at me for s-something—yelling and saying e-everything was my fault even when it wasn’t…and he’d call me things—really h-horrible things…he’d say I was worthless or—”

“He WHAT.” Harry blurts angrily, no longer able to hold back his reactions anymore, clearly recognizing the signs of a toxic relationship.

Holden looks to him and shakes his head, on the verge of tears. “Please don’t, Papa.”

“He didn’t ever hit you, did he?” Harry grits, looking his son in the eye. “Because if he did, I swear to god, I’m going to jail.”

“We both are.” Louis fumes irately. “We’ll make orphans out of you and your siblings right now if that boy even so much as thought about laying a finger on you.”

Holden shakes his head again, but he looks closer and closer to breaking down into tears again and Louis just can’t take it. “N-No, he d-didn’t, I swear…”

Harry’s body language hasn’t relaxed in the slightest and neither has Louis’ for that matter. The very last thing they wanted to hear was that their son had endured such a negative relationship, that he fell victim to the cruel manipulations of an older college boy.  

“I know it probably s-sounds ridiculous and naïve…but I…I thought he really l-loved me…” Holden’s lip quivers and his voice wavers and cracks in the worst of ways and he’s breaking down again before anything can be done about it. “And now I f-feel so s-stupid…”

“Oh honey.” Harry pulls him in right away, attempting to shield him away from the pain and hurt he feels. Holden goes easily, curling into his father’s side as he cries. “I’m so sorry, H.”

Louis’ heart aches for his eldest baby, shattered and devastated held together by his father’s arms. It’s only natural that they wants to shield their child from things like this, but unfortunately the older Holden gets, the less either Louis or Harry can do to spare him potential heartbreak.

“And I wish I d-didn’t care about h-him, you know?” Holden cries, eyes squeezed shut against the material of Harry’s jumper. “I w-wish I never f-fell for him at all—I wish I realized s-sooner that he was trouble b-because now it h-hurts more than anything… and, and I d-don’t want to f-feel this way anymore…”

“I know love, I know.” Louis comforts softly, palm held flat to Holden’s back as he rubs it in slow, drawn out circles. “But you know that nothing that he ever said to you was true, right? You’re worth everything, Holden. Everything and more.”

“And anyone who refuses to see that isn’t at all worthy of knowing you.” Harry continues, arms encircled around Holden’s frame.

“But it’s still ok to feel sad right now, it’s ok to acknowledge that you’re hurting. No matter how it happened or what could have gone differently, he broke your heart and as much as you want them to, those feelings don’t always disappear right away.” Louis tells him, still curled close. “I know it hurts now, love, I know and I wish we could make it better for you, make it all go away somehow. But the best thing you can do is learn from this for the next time.”

“There’s never going to be a next time.” Holden decides adamantly, lifting his head just to look Louis in the eyes. “I’m done with love and I’m done with boys forever.”

“You’re as dramatic as your dad.” Harry faintly smiles, tracing the side of Holden’s cheek.

“I’m not being dramatic, it’s the truth!” Holden defends, sitting up a bit more as he swipes his sleeve over his ruddy face. “I can’t risk feeling this again…it fucking sucks—sorry, I didn’t mean to curse.”

“It’s a very appropriate time to curse, I’d say.” Louis offers him a knowing smile. “It does fucking suck and you don’t fucking deserve to feel so fucking awful and fuck James and fuck his popular fucking jock lifestyle and fuck his shitty fucking friends too.”

Holden smiles, breaking into a watery laugh as he looks up appreciatively at Louis.

“But in all seriousness, there’s so much better for you, Holden. I know it’s really hard to believe that right now, because of how heartbroken you feel but it’s the truth.” Harry promises him. “I wouldn’t lie to you, would I?”

“Yes, you would.” Holden teases a bit. “You would if you thought it would make me feel better.”

“Ok, maybe that’s true…” Harry admits with a grin, ruffling his hair. “But I swear I’m not lying, there really is better for you, little H.”

“It’s true.” Louis agrees fully. “You’re so young, Holden and I’m sorry that this happened to you, we both are. But in time you’ll find another one, a better one.”

“And when you find the right one, you’ll wonder why you ever doubted it.” Harry promises in certainty. “They’ll treat you right and they’ll respect you as much as they love you.”

“But how will I know they’re the right one?” Holden questions uncertainly.

“Because you won’t need to even question it.” Louis tells him, speaking from experience. When it’s right, it’s so right and it’s not a feeling that can be countered or questioned, it takes you completely by storm and it’s undeniable in every possibly way.

“Exactly.” Harry smiles softly, eyes warm as he looks over at Louis. “But in the meantime know that we love you, we will always, alwayslove you and you can always come to us with things like this—with anything.”

“I promise we’ll always be just as embarrassing.” Louis grins and Holden cracks the biggest smile he has in the past hour, his hands laced with each of his father’s.

“Our golden Holden boy.”

[survivorelara]

Episode #14: “IDK WHAT TO DO W MY IDOL IF SAM GOES ILL CRY FOR LIKE 3 YEARS BUT I WANT TO BE SAFE ;(” - Loris

HIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! it's the fricking final  FIVE!!!!!!!! i feel like an icon,,, right ok so. tea lately? im winning... like look at everyone in the final 5 rn,,, if we go back to final 8 or 9 or sumn,,, out of us who would u say would be in the final 3... me bitch duh. anyways like.. i got to play mi legacy screeeeeeeee!! AND I still have my idol and if u think im playing that on anyone else lol!! i probably will dont quote me. anyways tea final four sooooooooooooooooon. woop woop. sam has me convinced it's a final two and the winner of fic gets to remove a juror. THAT'S CUTE. i'd love to go to the end with sam i love sam. umm.. like im pretty sure id beat him the jury hates him?? they hate me?? but him morE?? i also played GOOD. doot doot! boop boop

Well, I made it to F5, and this is where things really start falling into place, if my plans are proper, I shouldn't run into any issues. Though I WOULD like to win this challenge if only because I wanna be the one with the most challenge wins at the end, just as an additional notch on my belt.

HOWEVER, I can't seem to get this damn challenge right because of how much I suck. I keep fucking it up, over and over, and it SUCKS. Especially since I keep fucking up sooner and sooner every time.

Hopefully I can get my shit together, things should go fine though so long as Roxy doesn't win immunity, or Sam for that matter since I think Ci'ere and Roxy could try to pull a fast one given how obvious it is that Loris has the idol.

Anyway, here's to it all working out somehow.

Well I won immunity, which is a good thing and the most ideal for me, as it's another challenge under my belt, and it guarantees I make F4.

Currently I'm having a hard time seeing this vote not go my way, Sam and I are both voting Roxy, and presumably Loris is too, and that's majority right there. Funnily enough Roxy was trying to get Sam to flip on me in a F4 scenario or something, which was interesting, but if anything I just feel more justified in voting her out add in that whole tie vote fiasco, and I'm ready to send her home. (I love her to death though, she's such a sweetheart, and I do feel bad voting her out, but I have my own game to think about.)

Ideally Ci'ere will end up voting out Roxy as well, and at F4 I've got two F3 deals and I think I've got reasonable odds in both. Knowing that Loris had two advantages, and just how people seem to think he's this giant threat, I feel almost that I HAVE to vote him out at F4 if the opportunity is there. I think his game is flawed, but it'll all come down to perception, and he's perceived as someone who'll win against anyone.

Alternatively Ci'ere has had a more independent game, though I think I have a stronger case than his, but I could be wrong, maybe the jury will like him more, I can't really say.

Above all else despite all my plans, I'm happy I won this challenge, and I hope I get to FTC as that's all I've ever wanted and this'll be the first time I will have done it.

https://youtu.be/hd8d17Uos6k

Sigh...

So Sam got a brilliant plan together, that could potentially take Loris out. But then Ci'ere told me he wants a F3 of him me and Roxy, which I'm not a fan of. I'd much rather just drag my goat to the end, and drive things my way.

We'll see how things go, I'm not a huge fan of this plan, but I might go along with it just because it seems fun. Regardless though this plan requires Sam to vote Loris, as I will 100% be voting Roxy. If Loris idols himself, I voted Roxy, and I didn't necessarily break blood with Loris. If Loris idols Sam, then Loris goes, and I didn't vote against him, and can hopefully pull for his vote.

So I'm still trying to bend this situation to my favor. Though I'm more in favor of just dueling Loris at F4 since that's what I was expecting. I could honestly just tell Loris to idol himself to force this vote a particular way, but honestly I think I'm in a situation that honestly it doesn't matter who's at the end so long as one of Loris or Roxy go home now, since I'll likely have to win immunity to make it to F3 anyway.

I WANT TO DIE OK SO CIEREMESSAGED ME SAYING SOMETHING LIKE WE NEED TO MAKE LORIS THINK ITS YOU AND NOW APPARENTLY KORI WANTS ME OUT At final 4 GIRL IK NOT SURPRISED ... IDK WHAT TO DO W MY IDOL IF SAM GOES ILL CRY FOR LIKE 3 YEARS BUT I WANT TO BE SAFE ;(

ok.... I don't even know how to start confessing this round. really mad I fucked up and didn't win immunity cause that would've made this vote SO much less tricky. but alas, kori is immune, and guess what, loris has the idol. as we all are aware of now. these are the 2 people I DONT want in the f3 with me, because they both can beat me, whereas I feel I can beat the other two, so that had me thinking. does this mean one of my ideal f3 will have to leave, meaning I'll lose the game?

then it hit me, the most fucked up plan I could think of. loris has been my RIDE or DIE the entire merge phase of this game. words cant even describe how much I adore the kid, but like I said if he makes it to the end of this game, he wins the whole thing. that's how well I feel he's done. definitely enough to beat me. I know loris, and he isn't a dummy. i know that if he felt he had too, he would play his idol on me, because he's aware that if I ended up leaving this round, he'd be alone at f4 with everyone else wanting him out. so I started to wonder, what if I could make him play his idol on me, then vote him out…

so I got to work. I approached both ciere and roxy first and told them that one of us 3 is going because kori is immune and loris has the idol. and if that were the case, then the other 2 left in the game couldn't win because either loris or kori would take the cake if they are both in the f4. I had to convince them that us 3 making the f4 is best for all of our games. I told them to go to loris and start completely gutting me to him, convince him that everyone else is voting me. telling loris that they feel he's too selfish to not use the idol on himself. once word got to him and he came to me about it, I immediately started saying well great man its been fun love ya dude... but I wish you the best of luck at f4 since without me youll be alone. basically hinting at him to use the idol on me

then there is kori… he needs to go next, there's no question about it. but I had to try and convince him that voting loris out now while he has the chance is in his best interest, and that we've been a f2 this whole game and if worse comes to worse I would vote with him at f4. claiming that if loris makes it, kori will be the bigger threat. I started to leak false alliances to him, to try and get him to feel some type of way that im the only one he can trust, and that me staying this round and loris leaving is our best chance at both making it to ftc, because he wants to go with me since clearly he would win against me... that's how I convinced him to hop on my insane, wild, stupid plan to tell loris im the one leaving so he can play his idol on me. then another emma happens and he goes this vote…

If this plan works out, it will be absolutely brilliant, but also hands down the most brutal thing ive done in any org I've played, hence why I'm so frenetic. I can't say this enough but ill say it once, loris does NOT DESERVE THIS AT ALL. not at all. He has been one of my absolute favorite allies ive ever had in an org, and I couldn't be happier to have met him. What I'm doing to him this vote is honestly so brutal I can't even explain how brutal it is. But I came here to win. That's why I play orgs, is to go as far as I absolutely can. And if loris makes it to f4, I don't win. Period. My best shot at winning this game is going f3 with ciere and Roxy, and all im doing is trying my best to ensure that happens so i have the best shot at winning this game. Sure this could blow up in my face and get me voted out instead, but I feel and hope ive done a pretty good job at explaining and convincing how one of those 2 will win this game if they both make f4 and that ciere and Roxy stand a way better chance against me. Here goes nothing, I came to play hard and take risks, so heres one of the biggest risks yet. I'm so so so sorry loris, I just, fucking love you god I hate orgs Why do I put myself through these.

Random thoughts featuring me, Ci’ere!: I think this plan worked a lil too well I convinced Loris to vote out Sam and not use the idol on him but if I can't vote out Loris or Kori Sam is the next best thing and a move for myself sam loris and kori have a final 3 sam told Loris about our final 3 with Kori Kori tells me that Loris has an idol and Sam also tells me that he has one moments later but Loris was planning to vote for Roxy Loris plans to vote to Roxy because he thinks that this plan to get Loris to play an idol on Sam is impossible Sam comes up with a brilliant plan to get Loris to play his idol on Sam which would need convincing by me Loris has no relationship with Roxy and Kori is trying to be this saint and doesn't wanna be in on it Roxy was originally trying to vote for me in the event that Loris played the idol on himself everyone feels closest to Sam: Loris, Kori, Roxy and maybe even me even if I don't want to be taking out Sam would be a move that I could call my own I went off on Kori because he's acting like he's superior for winning immunity and that he'll win the next one too. I'm gonna do everything in my power to prevent that from happening. I also went off on Roxy because she acted fake and sent me hearts that she was down to vote for Loris when she was already told that he had an idol I was very hangry... I had a very long talk with Loris and I was trying to convince him that I would vote for Sam. I believe it worked, but it worked just a little too well because Loris wants to now vote for Sam as well ASDFG I also accidentally slipped and told Loris "we need Loris to believe that it's you" or something of the sort. Luckily, I saved myself by scapegoating Kori and telling Loris that I acted on Kori's delusions that I would vote out Loris in a f4 situation if we were to take out Sam. This means promising Loris that I'm taking him to the end and whew gurl between Kori and Loris I'm not even sure what I'd do but Loris has played better I believe Sam tried turning all of us on each other while he'd be the middleman and have a clear shot at making it to the end with a great story. Which means Sam's relationship with Loris isn't as strong as Sammy thot ASDF Okay nvm Sam just got confirmation that Loris is idoling him OMG THIS WORKED??? I'M SHAKING Sam might've came up with the plan, but I put it into motion and convinced Loris that we were all gunning for Sam & I also got Kori to tell Loris that he was voting Sam. I spooked Loris into voting me... I'd say my acting skillz were on point for this one hehe If Loris happens to end up idoling himself and voting for me or he in fact does vote for Sam, I need a safety net and I need to make sure the next best thing is sent home. So I’m going to be voting for Sam as a precautionary measure because sis ain’t going nowhere okcurrrr.

Loris is voted out 3-1-1*