#how am I supposed to sleep at night knowing what I know...

[bueckersipad]

don't ask if i'm okay. (part 3)

part 1. part 2. part 3:

pairings: paige bueckers x reader

warnings: none really?

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it’s raining when you find her.

thin, whispering rain. not enough to soak you, but enough to make the air feel full — like something’s about to give.

you’re both supposed to be in your rooms. lights out was an hour ago. but you couldn’t sleep. haven’t slept right in weeks. not since the night you told her.

not since the world started tilting in that quiet, invisible way.

so you wandered. found the fire escape door slightly ajar. and when you step outside, onto the slick metal platform that overlooks the empty hotel lot, she’s already there.

paige.

sitting on the top step. hoodie pulled up. elbows on her knees.

you hesitate in the doorway.

she doesn’t turn, but you know she hears you.

“can’t sleep?” you ask.

her voice is soft. rough. “not even close.”

you slide down beside her. knees almost touching. the air smells like asphalt and wet leaves and something unspoken.

for a while, neither of you talk.

just sit. breathing in sync. like that’s the only thing you know how to do together now — occupy space, ache quietly, pretend neither of you is about to fall apart.

finally, you speak.

“i thought i could handle it.”

she looks at you. rain in her lashes.

“handle what?”

“saying it. letting it out. i thought if i told someone—if i told you—it’d feel lighter.”

a pause.

you bite your lip. “but it didn’t. it made it real.”

paige doesn’t answer right away.

then, low: “yeah. it does that.”

you swallow. fingers tightening in your lap.

“i feel like i cracked something open,” you say. “and now it’s everywhere. bleeding into everything. my game. my sleep. my head. i can’t even look at my mom without wondering if she knows.”

paige’s hand shifts, almost like she’s reaching for yours. but she doesn’t close the gap.

you look down at your sneakers.

“i know she’d hate me,” you whisper. “i know what she’d say.”

“i know,” paige says.

you nod.

it starts to rain harder.

you close your eyes. “sometimes i wish i could take it back.”

the words sit between you like broken glass.

but paige doesn’t flinch.

“i don’t.”

you glance at her.

she’s watching you like you’re the only thing worth watching.

“i don’t wish that,” she says again. firmer. “not for a second.”

your throat tightens.

“it’s not just the gay thing,” you whisper. “it’s… everything. how much i feel. how fucking soft i am about you. how scared it makes me.”

her jaw tenses. then, carefully: “do you think i’m not scared too?”

you look away.

“you always seem fine.”

“i’m not.”

a breath.

then—quiet and raw: “i think about you every time i step on the court. i check the stands for your mom before every game. i wake up in the middle of the night with your name stuck in my chest and i don’t know what to do with it.”

you freeze.

she goes on.

“i want you so bad it scares the shit out of me. and it’s not just about kissing. or touching. it’s the wanting to know you. to protect you. to ruin and rebuild with you.”

you feel like you’ve been split open.

rain running down your spine. lungs aching.

“paige,” you whisper.

“i’m in this,” she says, voice breaking. “i’m so in this, it hurts.”

you reach for her hand.

this time, she lets you take it.

your fingers are cold and wet and trembling.

but you don’t let go.

and she doesn’t pull away.

“okay,” you say. barely a sound. “okay.”

you sit there until the sky starts to lighten. until the storm quiets. until the world feels a little less cruel.

when you finally go inside, you’re soaked through. your shoes squelch on the hallway carpet. her shoulder brushes yours with every step.

but you don’t speak.

you don’t need to.

for the first time in weeks, you sleep through the night.

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a/n: yes its been too long, yes i used the same picture as part 2, and yes i will try to do part 4 and end all of this eventually! sorry for the long wait-writers block fucking sucks.

tags: @flowerpetal05 ; @daffodil-darlings

[mcflymemes]

PROMPTS FROM THE FOUR SEASONS *  assorted dialogue from the 1981 film, adjust as necessary

is this the fun part? are we having fun yet?

i can hardly remember the first time i got laid.

you've made soem friends, right?

for somebody who likes to get to the heart of things, you have this incredible knack for denying your own feelings.

god, i love that woman. she just kills me.

i feel like i wish you would just sort of shut up.

has it been really tough?

does he observe good bathroom etiquette?

i want a woman i can be excited by.

maybe we shouldn't go anywhere.

do you think they're going to do it again?

i get passionate sometimes.

you're kidding me, right?

are you mad at me?

everyone in connecticut knows that you're italian!

you picked a hell of a time to get irrational.

i'm not irrational. rational people get angry. irrational people pretend they don't.

i just told you my deepest fear. why can't you listen to what i'm saying instead of how i'm saying it?

do you have any idea what it is to be afraid of death?

don't laugh at him.

you think because i'm quirky, i don't hurt?

he's been having affairs all along. dozens.

you're kidding.

how could you not know?

he told you all of this?

[name] is driving me crazy.

what's the matter with him?

he's very needy, that's all.

that's a problem i have. when i get angry, i overanalyze.

i don't understand. i've hurt you in some way?

you didn't tell either of us.

all i've ever gotten from you is judgment and disapproval.

when you wanna talk intelligently, i'll talk. otherwise, forget it.

i don't find them all that adorable.

they're making this trip very difficult.

you're making me angry.

i'm enraged.

how was i supposed to know?

i think you should apologize to her.

i got excited, i spoke my mind, i said i was sorry, and it's over and done with.

how can you say that?

i just say what i think.

why do you always say what you think?

i think he's hurt. i think maybe we owe him an apology.

when people have been friends as long as we have, it's not such a terrible thing to kid somebody out of a depression.

don't get upset about what you don't understand.

i've just about had it with you people.

i'll tell you what's the matter. i'm mad!

let me tell you something. as far as i'm concerned, you are all demanding and unforgiving. every single one of you.

how come everyone thinks i'm paranoid?

you think whenever your brain has a thought, it has to just drop down onto your tongue like a gumball.

let's calm down. it's not all that bad. it's just a little embarrassing.

i don't see what the big problem is. we're all adults.

you're the one i wanted to make cry.

i'm ten years older than you, right?

i go to sleep at night on an ache so bad that it simply will not go away. i wake up in the middle of the night sweating, hearing my own bones decay.

you talk like a bad textbook.

i'm saying this in the most loving way: "shit or get off the pot!"

nobody can do what you do. my god, you're perfect.

how dare you call me that?

it's not hot enough.

why do you always have to do that?

why couldn't you have just kept quiet?

i know you're italian!

please don't take this the wrong way, you know how fond i am of you, but i think your mercedes sucks!

i am sick and tired of all this macho bullshit.

these people are vicious.

please don't tell me to calm down.

will you guys shut up?

i am the greatest!

why can't they fight it out?

did anyone sleep last night?

i don't wanna look at my friends naked.

[cultkinkcoven]

*Us chilling in his bedroom, he was getting dressed for something, not entirely sure what but he was doing his makeup and putting on jewelry and he looked very gorgeous*

Lord Lucifer: I really liked that post you wrote about paraphilias

me: I knew you would

Lucifer: I suppose I already know the answer to this question, but don’t you ever worry about going… too hard?

me: too hard?

Lucifer: You’re very passionate and you put a lot of effort into defending those who are the most hated by society in my name, in the name of Luciferianism. And I am proud of you, I am very, very proud of you. But when you go so hard, people will inevitably assume it’s because you’re defending yourself. and people will eventually accuse you of being a predator too.

me: people can accuse me of being the devil himself. It doesn’t mean anything in reality if I never actually harm someone. There can be no trial if there is no victim.

Lucifer: Sure, but people don’t always care about that. People can and will still wrongfully determine your guilt regardless of a lack of evidence or justification because what you represent is fundamentally uncomfortable.

me: …

Lucifer: …

me: Well, that sucks. It’s a shitty thing to have to sacrifice for the sake of Luciferianism. But it is something I have already accepted.

Lucifer: and what is that “thing”?

me: The perception of others. The sacrifice is public perception, maybe even opportunities, comfort and safety, convenience, for the sake of being honest and open about my principles. I am willing to accept and learn how to navigate the uncomfortable nature of the truth in order to preserve the truth. If the public were to determine me guilty, but I and you knew in my soul that I did not do such a thing, then yes, it would fucking suck. But I would also sleep at night, and I would continue doing my thing and following you.

Lucifer: You could also just simply keep your opinions to yourself.

me: Yeah lol, I suppose so. But you know me. It is my compulsion. I write and speak and do magic and make art because I need to. I don’t do Luciferianism because I want to be a Luciferian, I do it because it is the culmination of all of me predispositions. Some people need to dance. I think I need to think and debate about things that I find complex and interesting the same way a frog needs to hop around.

Lucifer: you are cute like a frog

me: and I’d like to jump on you

Lucifer: I agree, I think you need to, and I think you should.

[twilightsumu]

drunk running | s. geto

extra!: the only heartbreaker

synopsis: flashback: yn gets psycho analyzed by her roommates about her ‘feelings’ towards suguru.

warnings/genre: modern au, cursing, jim jones, talks of cult, avoidance attachment, nanami and shoko calling yn out.

a/n: i am still on my trip so here is another little extra! i wanted to make yn vague since she is to be read with you in mind — but i wanted her reasoning behind her actions to also make sense. i hope you enjoy! you could expect chapter five in the next couple of days :)

sometime after chapter two:

the movie is still playing. your right foot has fallen asleep because of the pressure of suguru’s leg on top of it, and suguru’s light snores keep calling out to you — like they’re lulling you to sleep as well. but you’re strong and this sleep song will not get you, not again at least.

you look over and still in his black hoodie that he had on when you guys went to get snacks to watch said movie — and this movie being suguru’s idea after all. his cheek is softly kissing the pillow under him, mouth slight ajar, that stray hair brushing against his eyebrow.

he looks calm. not at all how you’re feeling. but you’re glad one of you get to relish in the peacefulness of the night.

the movie is going on, about jim jones of all people and you want to grab suguru by the shoulder and ask why in the hell was this the movie choice.

but then you’ll have to sit back and really ask yourself — why are you here for a movie night anyways?

your clothes are still on. your feet actually in a pair of his socks because yours got wet on the walk over here. you just had to jump in the puddle, just to make him laugh.

no… to make yourself laugh. him laughing along was just a plus. as alarming as that sounds.

you look away from him. your eyes running pass the movie — it’s showing old footage of members of the cult. you almost believe that this must be a replica of what it feels like to be in love.

being so blinded that you’re stuck to, in their case a crazed dictator. his followers followed him right to their end. maybe… that’s why you hate the idea of being someone’s anything.

you reach for your phone on his bedside table. ignoring the texts from the roommate group chat about groceries — you’ll do your own trip so that you could grab that beer that suguru likes.

as you’re typing in your address on the uber app and ordering it, suguru moves. just slightly. burrowing his head deeper onto the pillow, his hands reaching out for something to hold.

you lean back out his grasp, wiggling your foot from under his leg so that you could escape easier.

and for some reason, when you see that your car is only four minutes away — you almost feel guilty for leaving.

not because you said you’ll stay. you both know that wasn’t going to happen. and that’s why he doesn’t ask.

well, ask directly. but suguru makes space, so gently. like he’s never expecting anything in return.

and of course, that’s how it should be — this is strictly a friends with benefits situation. but it’s a little draining to be treated like a human being. like a friend — when you’re so used to being used and using in return.

it feels weird and slightly disarming to have this intimacy with a friend. especially one who is more comfortable in the mundane. you expected it to be possibly easier than your other entanglements. that’s why you agreed.

you don’t know how to stay simple for something more. you never had too.

you’re not supposed to like the way he sleeps. or remember his favorite beer. or make him laugh hard enough that you now have to step into the warmth of his socks.

but for some reason, you do. and the two minute warning from your uber isn’t pushing you hard enough to walk out because all you kind of want to do is watch suguru sleep. watch him be calm, safe… naked under your dissecting eye.

it scares you just how much he doesn’t care to show you. especially when you try your hardest to keep yourself tucked in.

you slowly slip out of his bed. your back turned on his sleeping body as you look for your bag. once found, your tiptoe to the door of his bedroom. never facing him again.

you almost want to look back when you hear him shift, your hand on the knob. you sigh, shuffling out. his soft snores following behind you like a tired laugh finding humor in the feelings you don’t understand are plaguing you.

“you’re home early,” nanami calls out as soon as you walk into the apartment.

he’s sitting at the dining table — his laptop open onto the expansive document he makes for the apartment’s grocery runs. you almost make a joke, just go see him get riled up.

you wiggle off your shoes, suguru’s socks still keeping your feet warm. and you feel weird. like you have a little bee just buzzing around your head and you can’t get it out of your ear.

“no sleepover with geto?” shoko teases as she lifts herself up from the couch.

“no,” you simply respond, flopping onto the couch next to shoko. “he fell asleep,” you shrug.

“you were that boring?” namami jokes. his arms coming up to his chest as he leans back into the chair.

“i was talking to him about that ted talk you zoned on about for three hours last week,” you joke back. shoko groans next to you. as if she was brought back to the night you guys had too much wine and nanami sat you both down to talk about the many ted talks he fell asleep too.

“as if you watch those,” he rolls his eyes at your dig.

“no, i have sex,” you shrug back. shoko erupts in a laugh and nanami scoffs. you hold back a giggle.

“got you there kento,” shoko says in between laughs and you smile at the roommate tradition you guys have. making fun of nanami.

you laugh, grabbing your phone from your pocket. the want to haunt reddit to find out what’s the name of name of what you may be feeling etched in your fingertips.

“what are you about to search up?” you look up and both of your roommates are staring at you. shoko still has a smile on her face and nanami is staring at you with narrowed eyes.

“huh?”

“whenever you raise your eyebrows like that,” nanami points at you. “and stick your tongue out, you’re going down a rabbit hole on a search engine.”

“last time you searched up what does it mean when you see sparkles everytime you close your eyes.”

“and you came to the conclusion that you have cancer.”

“interesting,” you hum. feeling naked under their stares and observations. and you remember the exact time they are talking about. you couldn’t sleep after a drunken night with suguru and kept seeing stars when you laid down. you thought you were dying. as dramatic as it sounds.

“thank god google told me the cancer was a fluke. am i right?” you playfully wiggle your eyebrows.

neither of them laugh.

“so?”

“it’s about geto i bet.”

“it’s not about him,” you huff out. locking your phone and letting it fall into your lap. “it’s about our arrangement,” you admit and you feel a bout of uneasiness grow in the pit of your stomach.

“are you looking for a friends with benefits forum or something?” shoko wants to laugh, you hear it in her question.

“to ask what?” nanami sounds like the school’s psychologist and you want to run to your room. hopefully fall asleep as peacefully as suguru did.

you roll eyes. looking down at your phone in your lap.

“god, you two ask so many fucking questions.”

“mhm, attitude,” shoko points out.

“i was just going to look up what happens when you start to stray away from sex,” you answer back. your voice low. almost timid and you hate how you sound. it’s not you.

“i mean you’re friends…” nanami says as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“you could skip sex,” shoko shrugs next to you. you feel oddly weird that you’re so close to her you could feel her body movements. especially for the conversation you’re sure is about to happen.

“i know that,” you huff out. “but like falling asleep should be grounds of being too intimate… no?”

“i think there is something bigger happening and you’re deflecting,” nanami huffs out and you could make out the chuckle that is rumbling in his chest. he wants to laugh. and you want to defend yourself.

“like what?” you defensively. not liking the tone in your voice.

“you being stupid.”

“stupidly in love.”

“nope,” you shake your head at the last word.

“yes, miss avoidant attachment,” shoko says in a singsong voice. you cringe at her voice. at the word. love.

“did you guys watch doctor phil today?” you try to ease a joke in to get some control over the conversation. bring it back to jokes and whatever the fuck nanami is inputting in that grocery spreadsheet.

“no,” he nods his head.

“a little before my lab,” she responds, throwing one of her legs on your lap. “but back to you being in love.”

“i am not in love,” you groan. you run your hand through your hair.

“is it wrong if you were?” nanami asks. his voice is softer than usual. like he’s trying giving you the space to be honest not only with them but with yourself.

“no. but im not,” you practically squeal like a teenager.

“can you at least attend to your feelings before talking,” shoko asks, throwing her head back on the arm rest of the couch.

you almost want to do the same with the hopes that you’ll melt into the couch.

“why would i be in love?”

“because it’s a natural thing that happens?” nanami says, confusion laced in his voice. his arms are crossed against his chest.

“but nothing good comes from love,”

“kids do,”

“a tax break,”

you stare at them both — you could only hear your eyelids blink at their answers. and shoko’s leg is starting to feel heavy.

“bypassing those stupid ass answers,” you huff out. you throw your hand up to dismiss their answers.

“nothing but rejection and hatred grow out of love,” your hand dropping on shoko’s leg with a hollow sound.

“no?” nanami almost sounds like he’s challenging you. to come up with an even stupider thing that comes out of love.

“are you afraid of getting hurt or something? jesus.. that is bleak,” shoko hums. no real bite to her voice.

“no,” you shrug, and it feels like your shoulders are on auto pilot with the amount of times you’ve shrugged whatever they said off. “i’m afraid of hurting someone else.”

“you’re bound to get hurt and be hurt,” shoko says softly. like how you’ll imagine a mother would speak to a child after they fell off their bike. and instead of comfort coming from the softness of her voice, you feel dread. “you can’t really stop that.”

shoko’s words are met with silence. and at this moment, you kind of wished you stayed back with suguru in dreamland. you could’ve talked to jim jones about this shit.

“what if i change?”

they both look at you, eyebrows raised in confusion.

“what happens when i’m not the version of me they liked the most?” and you hate how soft you now sound. like you’re a child asking their divorced parents if they’ll still love you after they split up.

you close your eyes. not liking the vulnerability leaking in the air. your roommates are quiet, unusually so. no comments masked as jokes. no heavy sighs to indicting you’re teetering on the line of annoying.

“i stay the cool girl that’s there for one thing,” your eyes are still closed. “what if i finally open up and im not what they want?”

you feel shoko shift next to you. her leg brushing on yours. and you think you could make nanami shifting in his seat.

“so… you’re scared of opening up?”

“no,” you open your eyes and let out a sigh. “i don’t want someone to get hurt by me opening up.”

“but, you open up to us?”

“yeah… you’re my roommates,” you let out a dry chuckle. “i feel like that is inevitable, no?”

“okay, and we like you,” shoko says with so much conviction. you’re almost sad with how much they don’t understand what’s happening in your head. to be honest, you’re not sure you really understand what you’re trying to say.

there is a slight moment of silence and at that moment, your mind jumps to a sleeping suguru. and you wiggle your toes in his socks, hoping he could feel the movement.

“i don’t want that someone regrets that i open up,” you shrug. “i know i will be fine. i always am,” that feels like a lie slipping from your lips and you shake away the feeling. “i just don’t want to hurt someone with the real me. what if its too much for them handle?”

there’s silence again and you regret opening up to your friends. their silence being proof that this was to much.

“i think suguru may be pass that point,” shoko hums. lifting her leg off yours.

“i don’t think so,” you quickly retort. “we’re friends.”

“let us know what reddit says then.”

taglist: @re-tired-succubus, @luvvcho, @iluvujt, @smolcooki33, @candy-s72, @starmapz, @shokosbunny, @emlient, @loveyislost, @whatismatildethinkingabout, @shibataimu, @11thlife02, @se-phi-roth, @frootloopscos, @risagichi, @sttaejoon-blog, @vampshxde, @corvid007, @marsavie, @vorfreudevortex, @sukunasrealgf

[heartepub]

17 poems for seventeen’s 10th year

note. you've worked hard these past ten years sebongs; i love you til death; let's be together forever. happy birthday my beloved thirteen ‹𝟹 17 poems—one for each member, + 4 OT13 poems. format inspired by kae's @studioeisa's love poems svt would give you bc they are a legend

choi seungcheol ᥫ᭡ TO HAVE WITHOUT HOLDING by Marge Piercy

I can’t do it, you say it’s killing me, but you thrive, you glow on the street like a neon raspberry, You float and sail, […] […] to have and not to hold, to love with minimized malice, hunger and anger moment by moment balanced.

yoon jeonghan ᥫ᭡ HOW TO BEGIN by Catherine Abbey Hodges

Wipe the crumbs off the counter. Find the foxtail in the ear of the old cat. Work it free. Step into your ribcage. Feel the draft of your heart’s doors as they open and close. Hidden latches cool in your hand.

hong jisoo ᥫ᭡ INSTRUCTIONS FOR THE JOURNEY by Pat Schneider

The self you leave behind is only a skin you have outgrown. Don’t grieve for it. Look to the wet, raw, unfinished self, the one you are becoming.

wen junhui ᥫ᭡ HIGH FLIGHT by John Gillespie Magee Jr.

Sunward I've climbed, and joined the tumbling mirth of sun-split clouds,—and done a hundred things You have not dreamed of—wheeled and soared and swung High in the sunlit silence.

kwon soonyoung ᥫ᭡ LIFE by Abdellatif Laâbi

Life is nothing short of a miracle that nobody sees O wounded body wounded soul admit you’ve been happy Just between us admit it

jeon wonwoo ᥫ᭡ SOMEDAY I’LL LOVE OCEAN VUONG by Ocean Vuong

Ocean, don’t be afraid. The end of the road is so far ahead it is already behind us. […] Ocean. Ocean — get up. The most beautiful part of your body is where it’s headed.

lee jihoon ᥫ᭡ A CENTER by Ha Jin

You must hold your distant center. Don't move even if earth and heaven quake.  If others think you are insignificant, that's because you haven't held on long enough. As long as you stay put year after year, eventually you will find a world beginning to revolve around you.

lee seokmin ᥫ᭡ ELEGY by Chen Chen

My shoes were growing more powerful with each day. […] […] On Earth lately, I’ve been looking at everyone  like I love them, & maybe I do. Or maybe I only love one person, & I’m beaming from it. Or actually I just love myself, & I want people to know.

kim mingyu ᥫ᭡ MOMENTS by Mary Oliver

There is nothing more pathetic than caution when headlong might save a life, even, possibly, your own.

xu minghao ᥫ᭡ won’t you celebrate with me by Lucille Clifton

won't you celebrate with me what i have shaped into a kind of life? i had no model. […] come celebrate with me that everyday something has tried to kill me and has failed.

boo seungkwan ᥫ᭡ I ASK PERCY HOW I SHOULD LIVE MY LIFE by Mary Oliver

Love, love, love, says Percy. And hurry as fast as you can along the shining beach, or the rubble, or the dust. Then, go to sleep. Give up your body heat, your beating heart. Then, trust.

chwe hansol ᥫ᭡ THE LIGHT CONTINUES by Linda Gregg

I don’t expect the light  to save me, but I do believe in the ritual. I believe I am being born a second time in this very plain way.

lee jung chan ᥫ᭡ TO BE ALIVE by Gregory Orr

To be alive: not just the carcass But the spark. That’s crudely put, but… If we’re not supposed to dance, Why all this music? 

bonus: seventeen ᥫ᭡ OT13

THANKS by W.S. Merwin

Listen with the night falling we are saying thank you we are stopping on the bridges to bow from the railings we are running out of the glass rooms with our mouths full of food to look at the sky and say thank you we are standing by the water thanking it standing by the windows looking out in our directions

INVICTUS by William Ernest Henley

It matters not how strait the gate,       How charged with punishments the scroll, I am the master of my fate,       I am the captain of my soul.

ON WORK by Kahlil Gibran

     And what is it to work with love?      It is to weave the cloth with threads drawn from your heart, even as if your beloved were to wear that cloth.      It is to build a house with affection, even as if your beloved were to dwell in that house.      It is to sow seeds with tenderness and reap the harvest with joy, even as if your beloved were to eat the fruit.

love is a place by e.e. cummings

love is a place & through this place of love move (with brightness of peace) all places yes is a world & in this world of yes live (skilfully curled) all worlds

note. someone on twt said the ot13 in a circle pics feel like a ring pov and it has not left my mind since.....it is still the 26th in my timezone so technically i'm on time? [don't boo me pls] [all poems are wonderful so please read them in full if you have the time!!]

[cabinwritesmatt]

Long Distance Love Letters 2

part two to the first chapter warnings: none!

------

Chris stopped writing.

I didn't know why.

I laid awake for weeks. Months. Wondering what had happened. I checked the mailbox daily wishing to see his handwriting...but there was nothing.

I wrote again. and again and again and again.

I started writing letters daily, in hopes he'd read all about me pleading and give me an explanation.

But nothing.

Did he already forget about me in LA? Had he moved on? Was his life so good out there that missing me was no longer an issue?

That's not fair. It was still an issue for me.

Sadness turned into anger

I put away the framed photo of Chris and I next to my bed. I stopped checking the mailbox. And when Ethan asked me out again — for real this time — I said yes. Not because he was Chris. But because Chris was gone. And I was tired of hurting.

Ethan was casual, fun, and simple. He was everything I thought I needed to get my mind off my childhood best friend that ripped my heart out of my chest. But I never really did stop thinking about Chris.

--------

It was December. I was finally done with my first semester and I felt happier again. I was finishing up my exams and heading straight to my hometown in Boston.

Ethan: Hope your exams went well:)

Me: Just happy they are over. Im about to start my drive home.

I turned off my phone after that.

I didn’t want to overthink it. I didn’t want to keep rereading the thread, waiting for that same feeling I used to get when Chris would text me something stupid just to make me laugh.

Ethan was kind. Steady. I remind myself. The kind of person who made plans and stuck to them. The kind of person who meant it when he said he’d see me in a week.

And still… the moment I pulled into my childhood driveway and stepped out into the freezing Boston air, it wasn’t Ethan I was thinking about.

It was Chris.

Because Boston meant home. And Chris was my definition of it for as long as I could remember.

------

The house smelled like cinnamon and clean laundry and something soft I couldn’t quite name. My mom had put up the Christmas lights, the tree was already up, and my old room looked just like I’d left it — except the picture frame of me and Chris was gone from the nightstand, tucked away in my closet where I’d stuffed after he disappeared on me.

I laid in my bed remembering the countless nights in high school Chris would call me saying "Can I come over? I cant sleep without you."

I thought being back home would make me feel better. Instead, i'm faced with memories from my childhood swarming my mind from ever corner of this house.

How am I supposed to forget someone I can't remember life without?

-------

Three days later

It was a stupid thing, really. I just wanted coffee. Something warm to hold while I walked around the square. I didn’t expect to see him.

But there he was.

Chris.

Standing in line at the same café we used to go to every week. Same messy hair, a little longer now. Same puffer jacket. Same beanie. He had his head down, looking at his phone, completely unaware that the ground had just dropped out from beneath my feet.

I froze.

He looked up a moment later — probably just scanning the room — and when his eyes landed on me, his entire body stilled.

I don’t know what hurt more. The shock on his face like he didn’t expect to see me… or the fact that I wanted to cry just from seeing him again.

He didn’t smile.

He didn’t look away.

And neither did I.

We just stood there, staring. The same way we always did when things got too quiet, too real, too us.

I blinked first.

Turned on my heel and walked out the door.

I was halfway down the street when I heard it.

"Y/N."

I walked faster. He continued to call after me.

"Angel please."

My body flinched at the nickname. I could hear the desperation in his voice. My heart betrayed me before my brain could catch up and I slowly turned to look at him.

He stood there with no coffee in his hand. Just this look on his face. Soft. Aching. Unreadable.

“I was gonna write back,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I swear I was.”

I scoffed, bitter and tired. “You didn’t.”

I turned to walk away again — I couldn’t look at him and stay whole — but his fingers wrapped around my wrist, gentle but desperate.

“Y/N…” he choked out. “I’ve had the worst past couple months of my life.”

I looked at him, stunned.

“What the hell, Chris?” My voice cracked with fury and hurt. “How do you think I felt? I completely lost you. And I don’t even know why.”

Tears started to prick at the corners of my eyes. I blinked them away, but then I saw it — the way his eyes were glassy too. The way his shoulders were trembling, not from the cold, but from the weight of something he hadn’t said in far too long.

“I read all your letters,” he said, barely breathing. “Every single one of them. I sat awake at night reading them over and over again. I kept them in a shoebox under my bed. They meant everything to me. They were… all I had left of you.”

I watched Chris cry in front of me, right there on the street, the snow catching in his eyelashes. The cold air turned his breath visible as he tried to steady it — like each inhale was a war he was losing.

“Then why didn’t you write back?” My voice rose, my chest heaving. “It’s been months, Chris. You disappeared. No warning. No goodbye. I thought— I thought maybe you were dead.”

My voice broke completely. I laughed at how stupid I sounded. I swallowed it down, biting the inside of my cheek to stay upright.

“You know I redownloaded social media just to make sure you were safe?” I continued, quieter now, almost ashamed. “I opened Instagram after months… just to see you at some party in LA. Drinking. Laughing. Like none of it mattered. Like I didn’t matter.”

Chris’s eyes widened with guilt, panic written across every inch of his face. He stepped forward, voice shaking.

“It mattered. God, Y/N, it still matters. You—” he stopped, dragging his hand down his face. “I didn’t write back because I couldn’t find the words. Everything I wanted to say sounded like a confession and I was scared it would ruin everything. When I read about you being asked out it broke something inside of me. I didn't want you to be with someone else. I wanted you to just be mine. Like it's always been. I felt selfish. We were both hurting without one another. I figured me disappearing would make you forget about me and you'd be happier. I was already losing you and I thought if I said how I really felt, it would push you even further away.”

“You didn’t just lose me, Chris.” My voice dropped to almost nothing. “You left me.”

"You got scared of me replacing you and decided to just cut me off all together. You read my letters everyday of me pleading for an answer, and you stayed silent."

The silence that followed was louder than anything else had been.

Chris stood there, eyes red, snow falling gently around him. And for a second, the world felt like it had narrowed down to just this moment — just the two of us, standing in the middle of a street covered in everything we didn’t say.

Then he said it.

“I’m in love with you.”

My eyes widened.

"What?" I say surely I misheard him somehow.

"I’m in love with you, Y/N. I think I’ve always been, in that quiet, stupid way where I didn’t even realize it until it was too late. You’ve been the first person I think about in the morning and the last one before I fall asleep. I see things and want to tell you about them, hear your voice when something funny happens, and every time something good happens, you’re the one I want to tell. Every letter you wrote me, I read like it was oxygen — like if I held the paper close enough, I’d feel you again. I was terrified to ruin what we had, but the truth is, not telling you almost destroyed me. You’re not just my best friend, you can't be — you're the one who gets me without me saying a word. I tried to write back a hundred times and I couldn’t, because everything I wanted to say felt too big. And I didn’t know how to ask for forgiveness when I wasn’t sure I deserved it. But I’m saying it now, even if it’s too late, because I can’t keep pretending I don’t love you. I’m still in love with you. I never stopped. And if there’s even the smallest chance that you haven’t either — I’m begging you. Please don’t walk away from me. Please angel”

At this point my cheeks are flooded with tears.

"Chris" I sob wrapping my arms around him.

I feel his body relax around mine. He lets out a breath as he immediately wraps his arms around me holding me tightly. Tucking my head into the crook of his neck"

"Shh its okay. I got you. Im so sorry" he whispered to me.

"I love you too. I always have. I missed you so much." I cry to him. He pulled me back and cupped my face in his hands.

He stared at me with a warm smile examining my face

"I missed you too. So much"

He leaned down and kissed my lips. Even in the freezing cold his lips felt warm. I felt okay again.

"We are gonna figure this out okay? I wont lose you again." He said sternly sill cupping my face.

I nodded leaning in to kiss him again.

-----

Yay part 2! lmk if you liked it

[deceptibots]

"Can’t Sleep Without You" - Ratchet x Reader

“Too bad, you need to sleep here now. I can’t seem to sleep without you anymore.”

Prompt by @/creativepromptsforwriting 

Pairings -> Ratchet x Y/N

Warnings -> None

Genre/Theme -> fluff, teasing

Note -> n/a

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

The med bay was dark, the only light coming from the faint glow of monitors and diagnostic equipment. You sat perched on a crate, your knees pulled up to your chest as you watched Ratchet finish his nightly maintenance. He didn’t need to do it every night, but you knew it gave him something to focus on when the base was too quiet.

“You know,” you said, breaking the silence, “it’s kind of unsettling how you can just keep going without ever needing to sleep. Don’t you get tired?”

He glanced at you, his optics flickering. “Cybertronians don’t need sleep the way humans do. Rest cycles are sufficient for our systems.”

“Yeah, but you don’t even rest,” you pointed out, stretching your legs out in front of you. “You just keep working until something breaks—whether it’s you or the equipment.”

His optics narrowed slightly. “I’m perfectly functional, Y/N.”

“Uh-huh,” you said, smirking as you hopped off the crate and walked over to him. “What about mentally? Emotionally? You ever give that a break, Doc?”

Ratchet sighed, his servos pausing mid-motion as he turned to face you fully. “I don’t need you psychoanalyzing me at this hour.”

“It’s not psychoanalyzing,” you said, grinning as you leaned against his workstation. “It’s called concern. You know, that thing people feel for other people when they care about them.”

“I’m aware of the concept,” he replied dryly, though the faint flicker of something softer passed through his optics.

“Good,” you said, crossing your arms. “Because I’m concerned that you’re going to work yourself into the ground.”

He huffed, turning back to his tools. “You’re relentless.”

“And you’re stubborn,” you countered, stepping closer. “So, I guess we’re even.”

You reached out, resting a hand lightly on his arm. The motion made him pause, his optics flickering toward you again. “Seriously, Ratchet,” you said, your tone softer now. “You need to take a break. Just… shut down for a little while. Recharge. I promise the world won’t end if you’re not working for five minutes.”

He studied you for a moment, his frame relaxing slightly. “And what about you?” he asked. “You’re still awake, too.”

“Yeah, but I’m not the one holding this place together,” you said with a small smile. “I just can’t sleep.”

“Why not?” he asked, his tone curious but cautious.

You hesitated, your gaze dropping for a moment before you met his optics again. “Because you’re not there,” you admitted quietly.

Ratchet blinked, his servos stilling completely. “What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about the fact that I’ve gotten used to you being nearby,” you said, laughing softly. “And now, when I try to sleep somewhere else, it just… doesn’t feel right.”

“That’s ridiculous,” he muttered, though his voice lacked its usual sharpness.

“Maybe,” you said, shrugging. “But it’s true. So, too bad. You need to sleep here now. I can’t seem to sleep without you anymore.”

His optics widened slightly, his frame stiffening as if he didn’t know how to process your words. “Y/N, that’s—”

“Sweet?” you interrupted, grinning. “Adorable? Completely unexpected from someone as grumpy as you?”

He groaned, dragging a servo down his faceplate. “I was going to say ‘unnecessary.’”

“Too bad,” you said, stepping back and crossing your arms. “You’re stuck with me now. Deal with it.”

Ratchet sighed heavily, shaking his head. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet, here I am,” you said, smirking.

He glanced at you, his optics softening slightly. “I suppose there are worse humans I could be stuck with.”

“Was that a compliment?” you asked, feigning surprise.

“Don’t push your luck,” he muttered, though the faint flicker of amusement in his voice didn’t go unnoticed.

When the silence stretched out between you again, it wasn’t awkward or tense. Instead, it was warm, filled with unspoken understanding. You sat back down on the crate, leaning against the wall as you watched him work.

“Seriously, though,” you said softly, your eyes starting to drift shut. “Don’t stay up all night. The base needs you. I need you.”

He glanced at you, his frame stilling for a moment before he turned back to his tools. “I’ll rest. Eventually.”

“Good,” you murmured, already half-asleep. “Because I sleep better when you’re here.”

As your breathing evened out, Ratchet turned to look at you again, his optics dimming slightly. For a long moment, he stood there, silently watching you sleep.

“You’re insufferable,” he muttered under his breath, though the warmth in his tone betrayed the words.

Finally, he set down his tools, his frame relaxing as he leaned back against the wall. He wouldn’t say it aloud, but he found himself agreeing with you: it was easier to rest with you nearby.

[theprinceandthewitch]

I didn't think the Bible and The Pilot would make Sense and Insensitivity even more suspicious than it was... but it did...

The Lunter kiss really is going to haunt me forever...

[umbreonix]

I forgot I never posted this outside of discord XD but this was a lil secret santa exchange I did for @ponie-cornious <3

[coridallasmultipass]

brocal for the ship bingo?

The OTP to end all other OTPs... (Man. This wound up being basically Cori's Masterpost of BroCal. AKA... this got long and has some images, since I realized I can post my own art directly instead of just a text link to it lol.)

Wasn't actually expecting this to wind up with a bingo? But I got basically 2?? (Will explain the lighter heart later.) This is A LONG post, and definitely gonna get SUGGESTIVE, bc man, am I obSESSED with BroCal. I'm just gonna go thru each checked box, since I don't know how else to structure this post lol.

Read More to save ppl's dashboards:

I want them to make out with blood: OKAY. I HAVE A WHOLE THING PLANNED FOR THIS CONCEPT. I AM NOT GOING TO GO INTO DETAIL ABOUT IT JUST YET BC I ACTUALLY WANNA WRITE IT. I'm obsessed with this one fanart of Bro licking Lil Cal, and it spurred on an idea I outlined and really wanna write: https://coridallasmultipass.tumblr.com/post/739969858334294016/hiiii-mutual-i-am-secrecy-asking-if-u-have-anymore

((Sorry for the plain text links, Tumblr app is NOT cooperating with me right now to add hyperlinks. I'd post the image directly if that one was mine.))

Basically, I just really need to see Bro and Cal making out with blood in their mouths, and I started a whole convoluted, unrelated outline in order to make that hapen. It'll probably just be a really short thing that ends at the uh climax, since otherwise it's gonna end up sadstuck. And I don't like sadstuck lol.

Undeniably t4t: Bro and Dirk are always trans for me, and Lil Cal's got that uh... what percentage did I calculate it out to be? 13% of Dirk is in Lil Cal [ My shitpost calculations: https://coridallasmultipass.tumblr.com/post/746702663327072256/i-ran-out-of-tags-rambling-about-this-so-im-just ] so Lil Cal is at least 13% trans because of that much of Dirk being in him, plus however you feel about the other components being trans. LMAO this is ridiculous to type out. Moving on.

EDIT: FUTURE CORI INTERJECTING WITH A:

"Lil Cal Top Surgery Healing Progess: Day 1"

Terrible for each other affectionate/derogatory: I don't even know where the affectionate/derogatory split occurs. I multiship BroCal as both Bro/normal puppet Lil Cal and as Bro/evil juju puppet Lil Cal, and whatever combination in between or outside of that. Terrible in that Bro is so obsessed with Cal that he doesn't have normal relationship/social skills and uses Lil Cal as both a crutch and motivator alternately, in a terrible cycle, or maybe rather... spiral. And also terrible in that Bro is caught in the allure of playing the role of puppeteer while also being a puppet for the darker parts of Lil Cal, whether he actively knows it or not. (Honestly though, I feel like it's dismissive if you try to blame all of Bro's faults on Lil Cal like this tho, which is why I tend towards liking Lil Cal as just a regular puppet a lil bit more. Or at least, a regular mildly supernatural puppet since that can be a little more entertaining if Cal can get into mischief while no one's looking or give off the vibes of his mood more directly, rather than like entirely inanimate or 'just LE, trapped in a puppet body.' Again, I like all of these concepts.) ((I mean that can also be a whole post of its own, like, by the time Bro gets ahold of Lil Cal, are any of the other components still alive in there? Like, are ARquius and Gamzee still in there or did Caliborn kill and consume them entirely? Idk how it works, man. This is why I like Lil Cal as his own person, maybe just influenced by the feelings of the others. LaCroix: CalGamARquius essenced water. Lil Croix.))

They need to get weirder with it: YES YES. 1000% YES. I need entirely shameless Bro doing entirely shamless things to Lil Cal. I want them inseparable and doing unspeakable things to each other. I want Bro taking full advantage of Cal having a puppet body and all the intimacy that comes with making repairs and being elbow-deep in stuffing.

Playing with them like dolls cute/psychological torture: This is the same divide as with the 'terrible for each other' point, so I'm just gonna go with the cute one, since the torture one is self-explanatory. I want them fucking married. Like. Full mushy cute romance type of relationship that Bro has never felt for any of the people in his life (cough aromantic cough). I made this comic not too long ago, and I often fondly look back on it, because I adore the concept of Bro being lovey and romantic and everything out of character around Lil Cal because he feels safe and loved and comfortable around Cal:

[ https://coridallasmultipass.tumblr.com/post/750602227910131712/brocal-4-lyfe-so-i-had-this-idea-of-dave-being ]

I made a post a long, long time ago (not gonna link that one bc it was personal and I was being very obviously mentally ill ["C'mon, like you're not being obviously mentally ill while typing paragraph upon paragraph about BroCal still in 2024 like 10 years later??" Fair.]) But the gist of it was that, like, having objectophilia or objectum sexuality is like, from an outsider pov, it's a way to express love to yourself. You filter all your self-hate through the object you love, and you get back unconditional love in return.

Lil Cal is never gonna hate Bro, no matter what Bro does. As a regular puppet, Lil Cal doesn't have the capacity for hate. And so that only brings them closer, since Cal is never gonna reject Bro for any reason. (Back to being a crutch. RSD is real, and Dave is probably a big trigger for that since he's not on the same wavelength of weird as Bro [not blaming Dave, obviously, this is a post about BroCal].) Bro can experience receiving positive attention from Lil Cal, without feeling 'fake' or uncool by expressing that same attention or affection directly to his own self. (Things are always done through multiple layers with the Striders, aren't they?) ((And I'm not saying Lil Cal doesn't love Bro, or that their relationship is just pretend - it's real, I'm just like, 'What's going on behind the curtain in the mundane situation?/ How is the relationship appealing?' Lil Cal luvs Bro 5eva 4 lyfe and that's a hard fact. Could cut diamonds with that shit.)) Example: maybe Bro is dealing with a bout of body/gender dysphoria and is trying to take out his frustration with working out, and it's not helping, even if he's powered through a set better than normal. Then, he notices the way Lil Cal is watching him, and he can feel the excitement seeping off Cal. He can sense the echoes of a wolf-whistle ring out through his mind, and it's like. Okay, none of that shit from before matters, he's got all the validation he needs right there in Lil Cal. Maybe flex in Cal's direction, Bro?

Oh, so back to being cute: isn't it wonderful how the template maker phrased it as 'playing dolls'? But yeah, I want all the mush and everything. Bro has a whole wardrobe for Lil Cal for every minor event that occurs in the Strider household. I want them going on genuine dates. Maybe even... holding hands. Bro blushes for the first time since he was 16. He even gets to take Lil Cal with him when he goes out to DJ or put on a show. Not to mention the whole website business. (I've talked about Cal's role in that before, but I'll mention it in a moment...)

They will die in a heart shaped pool of blood: I mean, kinda did happen, even tho Lil Cal didn't perma die right there. I don't think this one needs any explanation, since it basically happens in canon.

'You should see the other guy...': Okay, so. About 11 years ago, I had a really great idea. About how smuppets enter this world. I expanded on it in the following more-recent post (adult only content lol): https://coridallasmultipass.tumblr.com/post/741683686717669376/back-in-the-day-my-friends-called-me-insane-when-i

To sum it up, whenever Bro makes a new smuppet design, he then gives it a video debut on his website, where uh, Lil Cal births the smuppet like it's a horror movie scene, fake blood and poly-fil gore all over the place as the smuppet crawls out from the viscera. Bro then gets to play aftercare by lovingly and gently cleaning up and restuffing Lil Cal as they get to admire their new creation and rake in the dough lol.

So it's technically not a 'you should see the other guy' kinda situation, but it does involve one of them being... idk what word would describe it. Injured by the other? Usually a character loses a fight and says this to act like they got out of it better than the other guy, but... We could have someone knock on the door during the filming of a scene like that, and Bro has to answer it with fake blood up to his elbows, and be like 'You should see the other guy.' (But obviously, that's a terrible idea and would cause more trouble than it's worth... Maybe worth it for a persistent door to door salesperson, though.)

Though, I guess I should also say, I'm not opposed to Bro beating on Lil Cal in or out of the bedroom. Or in the case of animate Lil Cal, Cal choking out Bro. In or out of the bedroom, lol. Depends on the situation, like I said I will ship this ship any which way. But my preference for animate Lil Cal is to be like a totally normal puppet around Bro (or mushy in-love with Bro) and then evil-murder-puppet towards anyone else in Bro's life, like a... toxic yaoi guard puppet. (New Phrase Achievement Unlocked!) Bro brings home another guy to have sex, who tries to stay the night due to the late hour, but the guy wakes up shortly after to see Lil Cal standing there with a knife in the dark, eyes glowing red. Panic ensues when the guest screams and freaks out, and by the time Bro's got a light on, grabbing his sword, ready for a ninja vs ninja fight (bc an intruder would've had to bypass all the traps), Lil Cal is just innocently splayed across the desk chair, no knife in sight. Relevant post (well, the caption on the post too, saying how Bro can't seem to hold onto any relationships besides Lil Cal):

[ https://coridallasmultipass.tumblr.com/post/741830516962164736/i-want-you-so-youre-mine-always-selfishly ]

Uh, lol, also Cal choking out Bro in the bedroom, adult only drawing: https://coridallasmultipass.tumblr.com/post/754328907438800896/i-wouldnt-wanna-be-my-ex-when-he-found-out-who

Thinking about them always and forever: Listen. My Tumblr as proof, I've had BroCal on the brain for at least 11 years at this point. Definitely longer, since I first started reading Homestuck. I fucking love puppets and dolls and plushies and I always have. Man, if I hadn't deleted Tweets (automated app I used to do, and I couldn't choose what to save) from when I was in high school, you could've seen me @ ing my fave band when they were taking lyric suggestions on a fan-inspired album, where I was telling them 'make a song where the theme is puppets' and, while I don't know if they saw that or took the suggestion (they had responded to me before bc they weren't huge yet), there is indeed a song titled "Puppets" on that album, and it was my favourite song on there. Point is, I was fated to ship BroCal before I even knew it existed.

Sicko 2 sicko communication: I mean, does this even need explaining? Bro and Cal aren't just on the same wavelength of freaky, they're the fucking source of the wavelength, and it's causing a feedback loop between them. And it does as feedback does, which is, it amplifies with time. (Going back to the spiral symbolism here, lol.) ((Actually, time can play a symbol here, too, I guess, but idk how to word it, I'm starting to run out of steam.))

Let them have a happy ending: God, I need this so badly. I know Bro's story ends in Homestuck, but like. Pls. Someone needs to officiate their wedding. Currently placing the dreambubble order, but I can't organize a wedding by myself. OH speaking of. In that lil comic I did above, where Bro is accepting Lil Cal's proposal, I had the Natural Born Killers wedding scene in mind. I was gonna draw that as a follow up, but I think I have too many WIPs going. Just two people on the run, saying "I do" in a scenic but completely ordinary roadside location. Idk why, I keep going back to that movie for things related to Bro (I mention it in a very important scene in a longer WIP I've been writing, as something Bro watched and internalized as a kid lol.) It's not the best movie lol. Anyway.

The devotion omg: I feel like I have already gotten my point across about this, but let me reiterate:

[ https://coridallasmultipass.tumblr.com/post/735842968450269184/in-the-name-of-iconic-magical-girl-anime-ill ]

Bro and Lil Cal absolutely beat the shit outta Jack Noir before he gets prototyped. And even then, they fight together till the death, like. C'mon. Nothing more romantic than fighting a losing battle side by side. Also, like, Lil Cal having his own protective chest for safekeeping as seen in the Strider living room? Like, you don't just have a protective case for any old thing, especially something meant to be handled, especially something that is regularly used to smack other things/humans. What I'm saying is, Lil Cal is durable and resilient, and yet, Bro still has a case for transporting Cal safely. Oh, wait, I just thought of something funny, what if Lil Cal goes feral like a cat, and basically the chest is like a cat carrier so Bro can drive without being constricted lmaoooo, I've been typing for hours can you tell?

Kind of homophobic: Listen. I HAD a Cal. Took him to college. Staked my claim on the top bunk bc I am royalty. Proceeded to not have anywhere to set my water cup and had to use a cardboard box as a table up there. Spilled water. Melted Cal's sharpie-drawn face. And then proceeded to cry. I have a WIP of Lil Cal 2, but that requires actually remembering to work on him. I wanna do better by the pattern, too, since I rushed to finish the first. I have all the material! I have the project started! So it's just a matter of reordering my WIP priorities, honestly.

Where is all the fucking content?!: For realzz. I was actually venting about this the other day (didn't end up posting it), but it's like, either there's no BroCal content, or there IS BroCal content, but I can't reblog it for reasons I don't want to get into on this post. I'm dying of thirst in the ocean, basically. Whatever. This just means I need to make more BroCal content myself, which I am more than happy to do. I've just had a rough past few months, so I'm glad I got to type all this post out, and hopefully I can get back to creating soon.

Last one! I hope this one makes up for the absurd length of the post, it's prob my new fave idea I just came up with on the spot.

[TW drink spiking by a stranger mentioned in this.]

Committing atrocities as their silly little activities: I think we all know what this means, but I am going to ignore that elephant with my special x-ray vision. Because this is a BroCal post. I'm digging deep to the meat and bones of this. Honestly, this could go multiple routes, it depends on how you take your Lil Cal.

One could place emphasis on the 'guard' part of the, ahem ahem, toxic yaoi guard puppet. Maybe someone is actually trying to harm Bro, and Bro legit can't do anything for reasons outside of his control - let's say his drink got spiked a while after he invited a stranger home that he thought was chill. As Bro gets shoved down on the futon, his memory of the night is only a few flickers. Familiar orange plush, roiling around above him like a dancing windsock. Flashes of Lil Cal's face all distorted and stretched wide like a funhouse. J-Lo and Ice Cube on the TV. But when Bro is finally able to fully wake up in the morning, everything is as if he just got home alone last night and passed out on the futon. Cal looks totally normal and content tucked under Bro's warm arm. Except when Bro gets up, there is a pair of shoes too big to belong to him at the door. Maybe Bro knows. Maybe instinct tells him to run. Maybe he does, but he's running towards Lil Cal, every time.

[maj0rmayhem]

Really feeling that post abt how yearning and loneliness is great until you're curled up on your bed whimpering at the ache in your chest like a wounded dog. are we cooked chat.

[keeps-ache]

think this is funny. anyway. the Thoughts are back at it again

[strohller27]

.

[heyitstaytay21]

I made it from Michigan to Kentucky before realizing that I left my computer monitor and headset behind 😩

[euclydya]

The heartache has finally stopped. Perhaps because I'm not apart of their little group?

[knifegremliin]

on my hands and knees begging for my body to let me sleep. please. please. just let me fucking sleep what do you WANT FROM ME.