#i am posting this at 1am so i am probably gonna regret it later

[shurisneakers]

unsolved (iii)

Summary: Bucky doesn't even believe in the paranormal. So who the hell thought it was a good idea to stick him in a series about everything haunted for the internet's amusement? With his loose-canon of a teammate who has no concept of subtlety or shits left to give, to make things even worse. (Buzzfeed unsolved AU)

Warnings: swearing, frustrated bucky at his little shit supreme, obnoxious reader, cryptids, graveyards

A/N: good evening. i am fighting demons (tummy ache). comments and feedback are always appreciated thank u for the love on the series so far i adore u guys sm <;33

Previous part || Series masterlist

A few days after the first video goes up, Bucky returns from his run to a SHIELD file taped to his door.  

He opens to a black and white photo of him from back in the day, and a page full of his details. Full name, blood group, previous addresses, aliases, best colours to match his undertone, favourite Gilmore Girl boyfriend. 

He flips the page to the section on his known connections, only for a sheet of paper to fall out. Sharpie sprawled haphazardly across it, in big red letters. 

NO AUNT. 

BITCH.

He bites back a grin.

The video does reasonably well. Not record breaking numbers or anything, but for once there aren’t TikToks of people counting how many times he blinks to make sure he’s an actual human. 

Always a man of his word, though he has regretted it every single time, he agrees to a second video. It follows after a disgraceful bout of bitching and even pleading, but a few hours later, he resigns himself to his fate silently. 

That is until the schedule for the next video shoot is posted to the server, and he sees it’s at night. 

The night he uses to sleep. The night.

Before he can even type out his rejection, his door receives four sharp knocks. He doesn’t even need to open it to know who it was.  

It’s like you could read his thoughts. Probably could. He doesn’t know the extent of your telekinesis. 

In your hands is a large cardboard box and on your face is a stupidly big grin. 

“Good evening,” you greet. 

“Tell me the show’s getting cancelled,” he says. 

“Nope. We–” you announce, reaching into the box and shoving something onto his chest, “--are going on a trip. Demon hunting.”

“Demon hunting?” 

“To Westley Cemetery,” you add, letting the box tumble onto the floor as you grip its contents. “To catch the Westley Cemetery Cryptid.”

“What the hell is the Westley Cemetery Cryptid?” Bucky demands.

“Creature that lives in the cemetery, watches people from the trees and runs after you if you’re there too long. No known kills, but a couple of scratches and spooks,” you list off. 

His face twists. “That’s not a real thing.”

“Uh, yes it is.” You rest a hand on your hip. “My sources told me so.”

“Who are your sources?”

“Twitter.”

Bucky stares at you without a word.

“It’s totally real. It’s got a Wikia page and everything,” you argue against his complete silence. “I believe in it.”

“That means nothing.”

“Rude.” You glare pointedly. “Anyway, point is, we’re going out tonight to the cemetery and we’re gonna catch this thing on tape.”

Bucky tracks your gaze to finally look down at what you’ve shoved into his hands. It’s a headband, with two cameras attached to it, one facing your face and the other outward. Night vision, he guesses. 

He sighs. “How long? An hour?” 

“Was Hamlet written in an hour? Was Sharknado filmed in an hour?” you exclaim. “Great art takes time. We’re staying out there as long as we need to. So help me, we will emerge victorious.”

Bucky stares at you. “Two hours.”

“Seven.”

“Thirty minutes.”

“Your will is weak and your spirit is cowardly.” You return his fixed look with equal intensity, if not more, which he didn't think was possible. “Three hours.”

“Deal.”

“Great.” You stick your hand out, and he grabs on firmly. “See you at 1am.”

“1am?!”

It is 1am, it is cold and Bucky is miserable. 

But he’s there. In the cemetery. With the stupid camera rig on his head. 

You offer him whiskey to warm him up, and he agrees. 

You then tell him you don’t actually have any because you didn’t think he’d accept.

He hates it here.

The wind whistles around the both of you. The eerie silence is only compounded by the fact that he can’t see anything beyond a certain point. The night is especially dark and there is no moonlight.

He trudges through the patchy grass, dry leaves crunching under his boots.

The camera being so close to his face along with the fact that you wouldn’t stop singing the same three fucking lines of the song over and over again, makes him want to tear his hair out.

“That thing’s not gonna get near us if you don’t shut up,” he grumbles.

“Nonsense,” you hum. “I’m a goddamn delight. He’s gonna be trippin’ over himself to get to me.”

“He doesn’t exist.”

“He definitely does, and you know what? I bet your shit vibes are gonna attract him. Moth to flame and all that. Karmic justice.” 

Bucky stares straight ahead, swerving to avoid running into cracked tombstones. 

You go back to singing, but worse this time. 

“What if we don’t get anything?” he interrupts, to protect his sanity. “No one wants to watch a bunch of people just walk around the dark for 20 minutes.”

There’s no response. 

It takes a second for Bucky to realise the singing’s stopped too.

He stops in his tracks, head swivelling to look for you.

“The fuck…” he mutters. 

In the cemetery, he is truly alone for a moment. Silent, other than wrought iron gates creaking in the far distance. 

The leaves of the tree above him rustle.

Bucky looks up, squinting against the darkness. 

Against the stillness of the night, he sees it. A figure stands tall on the branches of the tree, silhouette obscured by the leaves. 

It leers down at him, unmoving.

Bucky doesn’t even flinch.

“Very funny,” he says. “Hilarious.”

“We’ll fake it,” the figure calls from above. “If we don’t get any footage, I’ll just get on up there and fuck around and you record.”

“Get down,” he demands. “We’re not faking footage.”

If this show had to die this way, so be it.

“Bore,” you boo, lowering yourself to the ground with ease. “If I didn't know any better, I’d say you don’t want to be a part of this series.”

“I don’t.”

“Anyway,” you say obnoxiously, “we won’t have to. There is definitely a cryptid here. I can feel it in my bones.”

“We’re halfway through the graveyard and there’s nothing here,” he shoots back. “We should call it quits.”

“You’re right,” you say, to his surprise. “We need to cover more ground. Let’s split up.”

That is most definitely not what he was saying.

But you start singing again and so Bucky agrees faster than you finish the same stupid third line for the hundredth time that hour.

Bucky is a man of dignity.

Less than five minutes later, he gives up.

He takes a seat against the trunk of a tall tree, in a relatively open clearing. 

He figures if he just takes a nap then the two hours would pass by quicker. 

Bucky has no idea where you’ve gone. The lack of light doesn’t help, even with his advanced vision. 

He crosses his arms behind his head and settles back, eyes closing. 

Not even a second later, he wants to rip his hair out when the stupid song you were singing reintroduces itself in his head.

“For fuck’s sake,” he groans. 

The tree he’s leaning against shifts ever so slightly.

His eyes fly open, but he doesn’t move an inch.

Instinctually, his breathing slows and his ears tune in to pick up even the faintest sounds.

The draft whispers, and he knows for a fact that something is above him.

A branch cracks. 

“Go away,” Bucky says loudly. 

A second passes. 

And then another. 

“You’re supposed to be looking for the thing,” you shout.

“It’ll find me if it wants to.” He shifts to make himself more comfortable. “I’m givin’ him a real shot here.” 

“You didn’t even look up.”

“Didn’t have to.”

“He could have been above you.”

“But he wasn’t.” Bucky’s eyes close again. 

“You’re terrible.” It comes back muffled, and branches shift. “I’m headin’ that way. One of us has to put some effort into this.”

“Joy. Knock yourself out.”

The trunk moves under his muscles again and Bucky lets out a small exhale, settling back into the position he was in.

Until he hears you singing in the distance. Same three lines, same off-key tune.

Bucky drags his palm across his face. 

An hour passes. 

Unlike his original plan, he does not sleep.

He instead recounts every element he remembers from the periodic table. 

Replays every Dodgers game from his childhood, and then gets mad at their shift. 

Then he tries to recollect every fact he knows about you so far. Mutant, captured and experimented on, broke free several years before him. Met Nat along the way and befriended her. Telekinesis, slowed aging. Escape artist. Wedding videographer. Allegedly.

He just doesn’t get how you’re so goddamn chirpy all the time, given that he’d been through something similar and come out the way he had. 

It had taken him a month to say anything to anyone other than Steve. You went out for brunch with Sam the same weekend you showed up at the compound.

He doesn’t get you.

Speaking of which, he hasn’t actually seen you in a while. 

He checks the time on his watch. Nearly 3am.

He had a fucking workout in the morning and no lizard-man was going to be the cause for Steve outrunning him.

He pushes himself off the ground with a groan, and stretches out his sore limbs. Definitely too old for lying around a cemetery beyond midnight.

He calls out your name loudly, and then again, before waiting. 

He hears bells ringing in the distance. 

Bucky looks up.

In the shadows of the trees, he comes face to face with the same sight as before. A figure, standing on the branches.  

“There’s nothing here,” he calls out, sighing. “Can we just leave?”

The twigs creek, and for a second he thinks you’re going to fall. 

“Already told you I’m not faking footage, get down from there,” he repeats. “I’m leaving. I’ll see you at the gate.”

The leaves shuffle around before he hears branches break. 

Something you say gets obscured by your movement, but you disappear again. He thinks that maybe you were cursing him out, and deservedly so. He just couldn’t find it in himself to care. 

He rolls his eyes, but starts making his way to the entrance of the graveyard.

The walk back is faster, and he holds back a yawn as the gates start creeping up on the horizon. 

There’s no sign of you. He half thinks you ditched him here and went back to the compound. Or fell off the tree and were just laying there. 

But he decides to wait, leaning against the exposed concrete wall. 

Eyes closed, he rubs his temples and decides that if you’re not here in the next thirty seconds, he’ll just–

“Hey,” you greeet from right in front of him.

“Where the hell did you go?” he demands. 

You blink at him, before holding up a wrapper. 

“Got a sandwich. I was hungry. The diner was real nice too, I spent like half an hour talkin’ to the owner.”

He stares at you. “You just left to get a sandwich?”

“Yeah, and I got you one, too,” you reply, tossing him a paper bag. “You’re welcome. God bless that man, but those things aren’t cheap.”

“You’ve not been here for the last half hour?”  

“I mean, I spent like ten minutes looking.” You shrug, taking another bite. “All I got was a bunch of grass.”

Ten minutes. Bucky had sat under the stupid tree for an hour. 

“So you just left,” he says dryly.

“Yes,” you reply like it’s not even worth debating. “Besides, if anyone could find a cryptid it’d be you. A fellow cryptid.”

Bucky spins on his heel to leave.

“You’re welcome for dinner,” you call out, and he can hear you laugh.

He flips you the finger, and regrets it a second later when your singing resumes.

The sandwich is good. He appreciates it.

He even manages to keep pace with Steve the next morning. 

What he doesn’t appreciate is coming back to fifteen missed calls and four video calls from you.

From: co-host (TGS)

can you pick up 

From: co-host (TGS)

i know you have nothing going on in your life you are bitchless

Bucky switches off his phone for the next three hours. 

Finally, it’s a threat that you will show up at his door again and Bucky finally video calls you back that evening. 

“What,” he states.

“Took you long enough,” you huff, sitting up to adjust the camera. In the middle of the ordeal, Bucky sees your laptop open.

“What do you want?” he repeats.

“The team sent over the videos from last night,” you tell him. “At some point in the video you said ‘we’re not faking footage, get down from there.”

“Yeah.”

He hears you play the footage faintly in the background, almost to substantiate your point. He cringes at the sound of his own voice.  

“Who were you talking to?” 

Bucky rolls his eyes. “Heard you in the trees. Figured you climbed up there again.”

“Ah.” You click your tongue. “Interesting.”

“What.”

You hum. “See, that wasn’t me.”

Bucky’s eyes narrow. “Yes, it was.”

“No, it wasn’t,” you say calmly. “I’d left to get dinner way before all that.”

“Right.”

“I’m serious. Got the timestamp on my video to prove it.” You look up at him through the camera finally. “So who were you actually talking to, Barnes?”

Bucky’s nose twitches.

“Bye,” he says shortly.

“Dude,” he hears you laugh loudly through the phone. “I fuckin’ told you you’d attract these things, you–”

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Next part

[tsurangaconundrum]

doctor who s13 flux spoilers under the cut 

DAWG. it is 1am and i finished watching flux and damn. im not proofreading for shit and also i’ll probably go back and redo this entire thing later

i’m starting this w the caveat that i enjoyed watching it. i think the dialogue was well done and i like bad television and this was so stupid. ooooo it was so stupid delicious. sometimes television sucks and it makes me never want to hit the bricks. 

okay anyway. my issue with flux is that it sux. the big backing of this the larger mystery was that of the doctor’s history, the division the planet time etc right. but i think it was unnecessary. like SO unnecessary. its the same as like when they brought gallifrey into the s12 finale. i think the siberium and the lone cyberman could have made a really compelling finale fight on their own and examined the doctor’s priorities very interestingly. it literally did not need the whole the doctor is the origin of timelords stuff it threw on the end for what? to undo the master’s character development? but. i digress. this post is not my bone with season 12. this is shit talking season 13 :) 

a major portion of the anti war messages of literally all eras except this one, was that the doctor was just a man. granted a man with superpowered brains and technological knowledge and the ability to regenerate, but it was just the doctor, popping in. even when he got too big in season 6, he made himself forgotten, because at the end of the day he was still just a man. the message of the oncoming storm was about his reputation as a singular person. 

thee the day of the doctor, 50th anniversary episode was at the end of it all about the choices you as a single person can make. like it was a STRONG anti war message by placing the emphasis on the choices of a person, rather than claiming genocide as an inevitability or even right, we watch the regret the doctor lives with. the regret he refuses to let pass on to the young uh whatever the red sucker-y thing. ZYGON. okay anyway young zygon disguised as clara yeah anyway. strong message. emphasis on the doctor as a singular person. interesting and not really done before. fucked hard. god that was such a good episode. 

and then (okay amybe im reading into one off lines too much but i find it doubtful because 1. im already a supernatural blog reading into lines is all there is to that and 2. i have a feeling that its gonna come up again later because we do still have 2 more episodes to go right?) the doctors mom (gardener lady, forget her name but it was like the tiktaalik) was like you’re an opposing force, about the doc and the space geode villains. sorry i forget everyones names im bad w names anyway and its 1 am. the whole arc and fight and claim to fame with the being the start of the time lords feels very the doctor is a natural force for building and creation (the geode lady’s speech to them about how they fear destruction most but she doesn’t understand why) (the doctor being pulled out as “the only one who could do anything about it) (the entire s12 finale). liek theyre building up to this idea of the doctor as a god. 

BUT THAT GOES AGAINST EVERYTHING THEYVE BUILT. it goes against all that doctor who created its very foundations are about quotes like 900 years of space and time and ive never met anyone who wasnt important. its the amy clara youre important because youre intrinsically special rather than rose martha donna youre important because you exist. if you make the doctor a god if you make the oncoming storm true rather than just the reputation of one man doing their best, youve defeated doctor who. youve eaten yourself you fuckign idiot chibnall. 

any fucking way. tldr by making the doctor cosmic larger than life force to be reckoned with rather than a guy who built himself up and is kind of a doof (+ the help of being from an advanced civilization) they’ve demolished their own messaging. they’ve rendered their political points retroactively inert. im choosing to pretend this season doesnt exist except when i want to go tee hee three doctors hi ladies

[mirainawen]

Some headcanons for The Long Road that absolutely nobody asked for

Who’s the messiest one:

Everyone has their places that they are the messiest one in.

dean: when he cooks, he does not clean up the kitchen afterward. he reasons that cleanup is sam's detail, because that splits the work 50-50. most of the time, sam is okay with this because he doesn't particularly enjoy cooking and is tired of takeout. he'll bitch dean out in three circumstances: 1, he hasn't been there (fair), 2, he wanted to eat out (less fair), 3, DID YOU REALLY HAVE TO WRECK THE WHOLE KITCHEN TO BAKE A FRICKIN PIE (least fair).

when it comes to the state of his room, though, dean falls right between sam and adam. it's his space, so he reasons everyone can mind their own business. sometimes he is really on top of it; other stretches of time, he'll let things pile up / get out of place before he'll do something about it.

you so much as leave a to-go cup in Baby, though, and God help you.

sam: between the three of them, sam tends to be the most orderly and tidy. BUT, leave that man alone to his own devices in the library? he's probably fallen asleep atop an entire table of "organized chaos" of open books, pages of notes, a new (unimplemented) filing system, a dozen bookmarked tomes, and a couple dozen pens lost amid the chaos. sam in research mode + cross-referencing & digitizing & organizing the men of letters' archives into a streamlined and interconnected, coherent system is...a lot. just like A Lot. and it Shows. (and sam's loving every minute of it. utterly geeking out in his own head.)

adam: is a disaster child. he'll let shit pile up until he has to deal with it, or is otherwise bitched at enough by (usually) sam. he doesn't have a lot of stuff, so it can't reach actual problem levels in the bunker. but he's totally the kind to be like, "what the hell? how long has this been here? hey, guys, when did we eat at burger king? oh god, we should definitely toss that at the next gas station. what? no i'm not going searching for a trash can right now" about his car.

Who feels the most uncomfortable about PDA:

it is, get this, sam. i know, i know. hear me out. when given the option, adam can and will be affectionate within reason. he's the most uptight and gunshy about it at first, when he just gets out of the cage; tends to withdraw from people getting too close, always on edge; as a survivor of the most Traumatic Thing in the Universe, that is more than fair and expected.

once he's had time to find his footing with sam & dean, however, he'll greet them with a bro-hug, when appropriate, a slap on the back, a nudge of the elbow, lowkey affection like that.

dean came back from purgatory more affectionate than he'd ever been before. much more readily will not only greet with a hug, but say goodbye (even in 'casual' partings) with a hug.

that leaves sam, who used to be considered more mushy than dean by these terms. dean's lowkey affection he's used to. adam's? nah. no. especially in the first 5 years, for the amount of time that adam does it (before shit gets Real Bad). after adam gets out of the institution, he gravitates more towards sam naturally, even when pissed, and sam's kinda lowkey why is he in my personal space??? weird. because it doesn't innately fit the same kind of way it does with dean. post-reintegration, he's more affectionate after they've found their footing again. he tries to make up for the Bad Years with more slaps on the shoulder kind of affection. boy's trying.

Who’s the funniest drunk:

sam is a disaster drunk. he's the biggest lightweight of the three of them, which is funny because he's also the biggest, just like the biggest in general. dean becomes so much fun in unexpectedly different kinds of ways. like, he can be talked into karaoke. or doing some stupid shit he's gonna regret in the morning because odds are it's not gonna end well.

but adam is straight up hilarious. that sharp wit comes out, and all his inhibitions (and image) are gone so he just straight up cracks the worst jokes ever and gets away with it. they land. somehow they land. maybe because sam & dean are also drunk. maybe because he is just that funny. maybe it's that he has a tendency to get blackout-wasted and do stupid shit that makes no sense whatsoever, like shower with his f*ckin socks on and dean is never gonna let that shit die.

Who texts the most:

adam or dean. during large periods of time in the first 5 years, adam will leave dean on read and dean texts because read receipts means he knows when adam is checking his messages and therefore he knows adam is at least alive, if not entirely alright. by that view, dean texts the most.

but for random shit, that would be adam. he'll text dean something like

with either no caption, or something like: this reminds me you need to hit the gym, or looks like you have competition and doesn't give further context. dean doesn't mind because at least it means the kid's not dying in a basement somewhere.

he'll kick his ass for the fat comment later

Who reads the most:

it goes in this order:

sam "i read this entire book in one sitting cause i had the time, and now i am awake at 1am because i can't decide if i want to start another one since i have down time" winchester

adam "does it have cool illustrations? no? fine, at least tell me the lore on boobries is correct" milligan

dean "what job has the least amount of reading?" winchester

Who has the most embarrassing taste in music:

eff. ing. adam. even in his own car (where, hey, the rules are driver picks the music dean!) he's only allowed a certain amount of time for his "whiny teenage garbage music" (thanks dean) before he has to change it to something a little more tolerable (rock, at the very least). heaven help him if he hints at something country with dean around. dean will be like, sit your ass down it's time for REAL music 101 and put on Metallica for the 8th time.

Who’s better with kids:

adam, with dean a very, very close second! so close, they probably tie. adam, early on, isn't good with anyone because fresh-out-of-the-cage (even post-institution for a bit) makes him kind of a hairs-breadth triggered bomb when it comes to people of all ages. but adam a bit more balanced? a natural. he grew up around extended family, friends, wanted kids of his own someday.

sam, however, is the absolute worst. a pure disaster moron in this arena. when adam is de-aged? dean didn't think it was possible for sam to suck so much at something. (don't worry, the boy found his bearings. but oh man...the road to get there, paved with more potholes than road.) BUT when sam really tries? like if he lets himself relax and lowers his inhibitions, he can do pretty well. but he's mostly just Highly Uncomfortable around kids, and like, it Shows.

Who’s the one that fixes things around the house:

dean. put that boy in the garage, under the hood of a car, great. can do it all. put that boy in front of a little home repair? renovation? by god he'll figure it out. and he won't put a hole in the wall shut up sammy. he takes pride in the upkeep of the bunker.

sam, however, is much more content to just be like ah man i wish we had a shelf here. or, oh right we need to remember to do xyz and then sit back and wait for it to Magically Take Care of Itself.

Who’s got the weirdest hobby:

hobby? what the hell is that? a homeless person?

Who cooks and who cleans up:

dean cooks, sam cleans. adam cooks, sam and dean will rock-paper-scissors for cleanup. or leave adam to do it. sam is never allowed to cook. he's a horrible cook. they'd literally rather eat out than let sam cook. sam, of course, is highly insulted, but also like...he knows dean & adam are better cooks. they just are. yes, fine, he'll wash the dishes again.

every now and then he gives it a shot. surprisingly he makes really good pancakes. he'll cook just to force one of the others to have to cleanup when he's tired of being on dish duty. dean & adam are not impressed when he tries to leverage sandwiches for dish duty.

sam, somewhat sloshed on a saturday night will be like, guys! guys! hey why don't i make us food and dean and adam are like, duuuuuude. ...wait, no. sam- and he's like, no, guys, i got this, and brings them microwave burritos. and THEN they're like hey! no! this does NOT mean we're doing dishes!

[yestermen]

New Year, Same Guys

I want to start this post off by saying, yes I know its been a while, but you get busy and you think luck is turning around and that maybe you’ll have a different topic to write about, but then new developments occur and we are back to where we were. Confused, Sad and Single.

This story starts about a year ago when I met this guy who we will call William, or Will. Will and I quickly became friends as we were in a few of the same classes and shared some similar friends, I was always a little interested in him, and I assumed he was also interested in me (we matched on tinder but this could’ve been a friendly match). Nonetheless he got into a long term relationship last year with a girl who kind of looked like me and we stayed friends and got closer.

This school year I got back and swore off men for the most part, it was never official but I was just generally uninterested in everyone and that makes everyone interested in you. By October I had about 4 guys talking to me, two that I was actually somewhat intrigued with; one being Will and one being (for sake of the story) Daniel. I continued talking to both of them but more often than not it was Daniel as he simply responded faster at the same times I was free to talk. 

Sure, I thought talking to multiple guys was messy but hey, isn't that what your twenties are for, being messy and dating around?

November comes around and Daniel comes to town and keeps insisting to meet up (I know him in person but he graduated and moved and so I was safe to just talk with no strings attached) I kept making excuses, some valid, such as my parents being in town, others were me saying I had a ton of work (when I was watching netflix and eating hummus) but either way, I never felt compelled to meet up with him which made me think- Did I actually like him or was I just talking to him for attention?

After a lot of contemplation I decided on the latter. Sure, I felt bad about leading him on and such when I truly had no interest, so I tried to distance myself, but then I came to the conclusion that I liked our conversations even as just friends (I never said I liked him nor did I ever say that we were just friends so woops). So being selfish, I kept talking to him, not as much as before, but just enough to get my satisfaction. After all, it is lovely to feel wanted. A couple weeks later, Daniel is back in town again, and pulling the same shenanigans but I say that I am just feeling being alone, which was complete honesty. That is when my friend texts me saying they are with my other friend and they need “sad gal hours”, aka when people come over, we put on music, drink, cry, talk and dance. So being a good friend, I invite them over.

One of my friends stays for 15 minutes when I text Will inviting him over, after all he’s friends with everyone and can bring more wine. He says sure and that’s when Bad Idea from Waitress would start playing if it were a film.

The three of us (My friend, Will and I) sit in my living room filling up glass after glass of wine just laughing and talking for hours- especially about hookups and relationships. The whole time, we have broken the touch boundary and so we are leaning on each other laughing, touching legs, etc. and my friend is sitting there with pure chaos surrounding them until they finally leave to go meet another hookup- by this point it is around 3am on a Sunday night (monday morning?).

The rest is history from that night, just picture how any rom com scenario would happen. Some highlights were that he helped me clean up the wine, in the morning he made my bed while I was showering and then we scrolled through the instagram the-hidden-biscuit (follow it, its good).

After that I kind of ghosted Daniel, as I felt as if I had made a choice. He was nothing but nice to me, but I was a bitch and he didn't deserve that, I still kind of regret it but hey, what am I gonna do?  

The next few weeks Will and I continued to hookup (one night in specific I got the worst hickeys of my life, Jesus, my neck was BLACK). So I was happy and saw it going somewhere and so, being a Libra, my mind took that as “YOU ARE IN LOVE WITH HIM AND GOING TO BE WITH HIM FOREVER!! YOU HAVE SO MUCH IN COMMON, THIS IS GREAT!” maybe not to that extent but in theory, I had caught feelings. Which wouldn't be mad if he too wasn't moving away and also if winter break wasn't starting immediately following this. Now, by this point I know it had gotten out that we were doin this thing, because one of his gal friends (we’ll call her Janice) came up to me during a party to express how she thought it was cute (more on this later).

That was what I needed to like set that my feelings were there, he had told his friends about me, so I couldn’t be “just a girl hes hooking up with” anymore, right?

WRONG.

So for the next few weeks we kept in contact (me thinking this could lead to something good) and I continued texting Janice to like see if he actually likes me (this seems normal and healthy right?). Anyway, she finally tells me that she respects us both too much to get in the middle of it, which kind of put me off but it wasn’t really her business anyway, I just like talking to people.

So, time goes by and it feels like hes distancing himself, texts are getting less responsive, as are snapchats and everything in between.

So on the fateful night of New Years Eve, I have been depressed all day, I drink a little too much champagne and I start talking to one of my best friends Leah. I keep saying I should send a text admitting how I feel and blah blah blah, she roots me on and all of a sudden its 1am and I send the text, immediately freak out and go to bed.

In the morning, no response yet, then I get one in the afternoon. I had a bad feeling about it and so I decide not to read it (I still haven't opened it so don’t ask me what it said, I don’t know). Rightfully so, we don’t snap each other or text for a while after that (we still haven’t texted) and so I decide to send a mass snap and include him in it. I GET A RESPONSE! that’s a good thing right? it means he doesn’t think i’m weird right?

We continue to snap, not as much as before but I still refuse to look at the text so nothing else can progress.

I get back up to school and plan to see Janice, as we are now friends and I want to hang out with her, she comes over and we watch A Cinderella Story, the one with Hillary Duff, and do face masks. The movie ends and I suggest we go eat hummus (my favorite snack) and she agrees but says that we need to talk first.

I immediately know what about and my stomach becomes a knot and sinks at the same time. “So, over break Will and I started talking as more than friends... I just want to let you know, I know that you guys talked and I wanted to go to you and make sure you’re okay with it.” WELL NO OF COURSE I AM NOT OKAY WITH IT, NO WE DIDN'T TALK, WHAT AM I SUPPOSED TO SAY THOUGH?

So I swallow my sadness and tell Janice that “of course im okay with it” and then she continues about how much she respects and loves me and how im a “goddess” and “so hot” and “perfect” and etc. As fake people do, especially when they hurt you.

So after that I got a snap from him that I have refused to open, and she stayed at my apartment for the rest of the day because she obviously didn't get the cue that you leave someone alone after saying something like that.

But just like that, again a man has been taken from my life. I knew that it probably wouldnt last, and I always felt threatened by her. But as a person I was raised to not feel threatened by other women and to not date your friends crushes, no matter how much you want to. But obviously she didn’t learn that.

Now i’m back to square one, learning to love myself and others again.

To do this, Ive surrounded myself constantly with people I love (mostly friends), Ive been doing a lot of face masks, ive been baking a lot of sweets, watching a lot of movies, and taking on way more work than one person has time to do. Keeping myself busy is the best way to grow, and self growth leads to self love.

But yeah, its going to be a while until I go back to men I think, I have to rebuild myself after being torn down, and im going to try this time, to separate toxic people. Maybe i’ll do some traveling too.

Here’s to 2019- the year im dating myself.

[somanystoriestotell-blog]

So Long My Baby, So Long

I didn’t plan on posting this today but since it is pretty fresh in my mind (the bulk of it occurred at 1AM this morning) I may as well get it out there.

I’ve been on and off with my boyfriend James for over a decade. I complain about him constantly, partly because I like the attention of my girlfriends (I grew up deprived like most of us), partly because he irritates me, but mostly because I don’t like to come off as weak. I know that that sounds pathetic but hear me out.

I’ve always been the person that doesn’t need anyone. I take care of everyone. I’m the strong one. I’m the dedicated, hardworking, problem-solving, take no shit from nobody one but when it comes to men, oy. They’re my kryptonite. I think a lot of this has to do with the fact that I’m rather cold so when someone sparks a fire in me it’s really hard to put out. Even when they cheat or they threaten to murder me (more on that later) I hold on with a death grip. It’s borderline obsessive behavior.

James is not like the other men I’ve been with. I met him on a warm fall day when we were in college. He was introduced to me by a mutual friend, Dawn, who told me they were in the same math class. He was tall and lanky, the complete opposite of my small and round stature, and was wearing clothes three times too large. The early 00s were a magical time. His backward baseball clap blew off his head as we made our way to the subway and as he clumsily chased it down the street, awkwardly bopping side to side and weaving in and out of midtown NYC traffic, I fell in love. We spent more and more time together and I learned that he was intelligent and shy and that we were both from similar, impoverished backgrounds. He picked me up from work one night after claiming that he happened to be in the area. I later learned that this was false, he had taken a bus and two trains to meet me, but that’s not important now. What is important is, that night I asked him to kiss me and he said no, not because he didn’t want to but because he was so shy about “doing it wrong”. I kissed him and it felt wonderful.

Fast forward four years later and we’re living together in one of the bedrooms in his mother’s apartment. We’ve both dropped out of college (I’ll get to that another time) and we spend a lot of time together in bed. Like a lot of time. We’re 22. We’re stupid and we should know better but we act on impulse. I get pregnant of course and I know immediately that I want an abortion. There’s not one doubt in my mind that this is the best decision for us, being 22, uneducated and jobless (in my case). I didn’t take the time to consider how James would feel. James wanted to keep the baby. Most children dream of being astronauts or superheroes when they grow up. James only ever dreamed of being a father.

I’m not sorry I had an abortion. If I kept the baby, I probably wouldn’t have a career now. I would definitely resent what would be an almost middle school aged child and he or she wouldn’t deserve it. I do, however, regret being insensitive about it. After the procedure I was happy, joyful even. I didn’t see how the color had drained from James face or notice how he became quiet. I didn’t hear him crying softly at night. In my relief I ignored his pain and we fell apart.

That was the first time we broke up for real. There had been other times but after the abortion I knew he didn’t love me anymore.

I had other men but I never forgot sweet, solid, stoic James who seemed to love me so much. I would think of him constantly. All of New York reminded me of him. A few years went by and because I couldn’t stop thinking about him, I reached out on Facebook. He didn’t respond for four months but when he did, we met up for dinner and drinks and it was electric. All of the feelings, the love and hate and despair and lust and everything we had and still have for each other seemed to bubble to the surface and we found our way back to each other.  We’ve been together for five years now, living together for three and everything seems to be looking up.

You should know I have a tendency to self-destruct. I’m used to being in an endless cycle of sorrow or rage so when I am feeling good I tend to go ahead and fuck it up since I feel a bit out of sorts. I came home in a bad mood last night and picked a fight with James over nothing significant, dishes or laundry or something ridiculous. Anyway, we got to talking when I was behaving more rationally and I mentioned how I want to move on to the next step. I want to get married and buy a home. In response, he told me he “loved me more than almost anyone” but he wasn’t ready to make a move. The pain of hearing that he didn’t want to marry me after all these years was bad enough but I, being who I am, decided to make it worse and let the “more than almost anyone” line haunt me. I grilled him relentlessly asking over and over who he loved more than me. I had to know, even after he gave me the grim warning “You’re not gonna like it”. He explained that he loved “our baby” more. This was a devastating shock to me. I lost to the ghost of what might have been. I thought we had put this behind us but apparently it still haunts James and even now I’m not sorry. Does that make me selfish or less-than? Now I have all these doubts about our relationship. Will what might’ve been hang over us like a raincloud for the rest of our lives? Is this the reason he doesn’t want to marry me? Ironically, one of the reasons I wanted to get married and buy a home (a pipe dream now but still) is because I wanted to become a mother.

I always thought he loved me the most…

*The title of this post was inspired by Chotee by Bif Naked