#i don't like beer but that's not even a good beer if you do like beer right?

[ariesbilly]

i beg you don't embarrass me, motherfucker

the upside of dating steve harrington was that he was hot as shit.

the downside of dating steve harrington was that he was hot as shit. and also kind of a bitch.

it's billy's fault, really. he should've known better when dating a guy nicknamed king.

the one good thing about being gay in indiana, though, is that secrecy is a requirement, which billy doesn't have a problem with. the thought of publicly displaying his affections makes his skin crawl. he's got no problem doing it with the girls he pretends to be interested in because that's all it is - pretend.

but when he really means that shit... it's a harder pill to swallow.

and none of this really bodes well with steve harrington's style of dating. billy knows from his brief overlap of being in town while harrington and wheeler were still a happy item that the guy likes to be clingy, needs constant attention and validation of his affections and he wants to put it all on display for the world to see. and billy can't give that to him.

so he goes looking for it elsewhere.

the one good thing about being gay in indiana is the secrecy, but that rule doesn't extend to billy's sister or his best friend.

heather was never supportive of billy's taste in men. warned him plenty of times that steve was a dick and a leopard doesn't change its spots. but billy had waved of all concerns by saying they weren't even in a serious relationship and that heather didn't know steve like he did. heather and steve hated each other, of course she was gonna see the worst in him.

max was supportive. at first. until dustin started coming around with stories of steve and the new girls he was picking up, gloating about him like he was some golden god of women. and max would come fuming into billy's room asking if he knew about this shit, and billy would sigh and explain to her that it was just steve keeping up appearances to throw the scent off their trail.

"oh, is that why he had his tongue down tina's throat?" max accused.

and billy would have to pretend like he wasn't embarrassed. like he was in on the joke.

the thing with billy is that he doesn't let himself fall often, because when he does it's like a ten ton boulder down the side of a steep cliff. and shame isn't a color he wears well. he's gotten enough of that for a lifetime from neil, and since he's thankfully fucked off now, billy doesn't want to face it ever again.

which is maybe why he snaps at tommy's party.

he came here with steve, but now he's currently watching him dance with some chick with ten pounds of hair and double the makeup. laughing his preppy little ass off as she gyrates her dainty little lady parts all over him.

and yeah, billy can handle a bitchy attitude and some temper tantrums. and he can even wave off vague flirtations that he only hears about secondhand.

but this shit? right in front of his face? that's where he draws a line in the sand.

so he crumples the red plastic cup in his hand, not caring that beer spills out from the top, spotting the hagans' carpet, and throws it full force at the wall beside him, causing those nearby to jump, probably wondering what the hell set him off, if there's gonna be some grand billy hargrove performance.

but no. they'll just have to make due watching his ass walk out the door.

-

billy's sitting on the steps outside his house the next day, smoking a cigarette, when the beemer pulls up.

it's half expected, half not. billy braces himself for a fight anyway.

"you ditched me last night," is what steve says once he's up the sidewalk, a few feet in front of billy. he doesn't sound mad really. maybe a little offended.

billy sucks on his cigarette. blows out the smoke, his eyes never leaving steve. "got hit by a sudden wave of nausea," he says. "didn't wanna ralph in front of the party. didn't think you'd notice."

"why wouldn't i notice? we came together. i was looking all over for you."

billy shrugs, taking another pull of his smoke. "you seemed preoccupied."

it looks like steve's playing a tape in his head of the previous night, trying to pinpoint what exactly the fuck billy's talking about until it must finally click. "man, are you talking about that thing with cindy?" he laughs. like billy's fucking joshing him. "that was nothing!"

billy finishes his smoke, flicking it into the grass before standing up. "yeah, well, it something to me." he turns to walk up the steps, leaving this conversation - and steve - behind, but he's stopped with a hand on his arm.

"aw, billy, c'mon-"

"don't!" billy spins around, hands shoving steve square in the chest. watches his face go from jovial to nervous in two seconds flat.

good. the prick should be fucking nervous.

"you think you can walk around doing whatever the fuck you want like you own this town, but guess what? you don't! and you sure as shit don't own me!"

steve watches him with wide eyes, clearly out of his depth. this isn't the meeting he came here for. billy doesn't really give a shit. "billy, i-"

"i stood up for you, motherfucker," billy seethes, shoving steve again with two pointed fingers. "you know how many times heather's tried getting me to leave your ass alone? how many times max has threatened to castrate you because you can't keep it in your fucking pants?"

"i haven't slept with anyone else!"

"i don't care!" billy bellows. he's making a fucking scene. he hopes the neighbors aren't home. "i'm prime fucking real estate, baby! back in cali i had guys lining up the fucking block to get a piece of this! you think i just give this up to anybody?" steve opens his mouth, but billy cuts him off. "don't answer that! i defended you, asshole. and you make me look like a fucking idiot."

"i didn't think you cared..." steve says after a moment of stunned silence.

and that stuns billy. but he recovers quickly. "of course i fucking care. i wouldn't be doing this-" he gestures between the two of them, "-if i didn't."

"well you don't exactly express feelings very well." it's mostly teasing, billy thinks, but still that undercurrent of signature harrington bitch. "but-" he takes a step closer. "-if you're serious about this, then i am, too." another step.

"i swear to god if i have to sit through an 'i told you so' speech from maxine or heather because of some shit you pull-"

"is this your way of saying you love me?" steve grins, all cocksure and obnoxious, closing the distance until he and billy are standing toe to toe.

"don't press your luck," billy breathes in the space between them. "i'm serious, steve. i don't do thi- this is new for me, alright? and, i don't know if you've noticed, but i don't really handle rejection well."

"yeah, no shit," steve chuckles. "i'll be on my best behavior from now on. scout's honor." he holds up the three finger scout salute in mockery, but billy thinks, hopes, there's a sincerity in his eyes that he can hold him to.

billy rolls his eyes, mainly at himself for wanting to kiss the idiot right now. he almost does, too, until he remembers where they are and prying eyes could be watching.

he settles for another shove, this time to steve's shoulder, before turning back towards the house. "c'mon," he says, nodding his head towards the door. "nobody's home. you can give me a proper apology."

billy hears footsteps behind him before he even gets his whole sentence out.

[rblackdeco]

One more dance?

— pairing: james potter x gn!reader

— a/n: more beloved brazilian james yes!!! as the gods intended, i survived my finals so as promised! hope you enjoy it <3 i'm always open to write about him. translations will be at the end to those who need it dw <3 (not proofread)

— warnings: none, this is pure tooth rotting fluff!!

You're no good with dancing. The sway and careless movement that seems to come so naturally to James has you stuck in place through most of the night. It's not one of your talents, you're not a dancer, simply. Not unless it's James Potter making his way through the dance floor like he's parting the damn red sea only to get to you, not unless it's him coaxing you in a sweet low voice and calling you "meu bem". Not unless he got a hand around your waist pulling you literally away from your comfort zone.

And the thing is, you love James. Dearly. To the last bits of your soul. But not even dying love can make you into the kind of person that dances. Not even bossa nova. Not even with his hands guiding you.

You go stiff as soon as his hand pulls you closer, feverish touch travelling down to your hips. You're pretty sure you forget how to breathe, or walk, or function. Not even a meteor could have had you moving. James nests his head on the crook of your neck, and say things you don't comprehend. He says you need to "Se soltar, meu amor." and all you hear is love. Wrapped around his tongue like silk, it's a coward's move when James knows his accent can get you to do almost anything. Then, James pulls away, only a little, only enough to look at the DJ and nod.

And you're all to familiar to the song that begins to play. "Dança uma comigo e a gente vai pra casa, meu bem." He whispers against your neck, breath hot causing shivers to awake on your skin.

"You're a menace, James." You whisper back, just at his ear, loud enough so he can hear it but still quiet enough that only he can. His mother tongue has a word for it too, you've learned. "Pilantra."

James' smirk widens so much his cheeks start to hurt. "Só seu." He answers, placing a kiss on your jawline, lips ghosting there for a moment, warm against the mild air that had settled in the town streets. He smells like beer and his cologne and something so indubitably him that it couldn't be bottled even if they tried. It's intoxicating. It's all yours.

He presses another kiss, lingering and letting his teeth just barely graze against the thin skin over your blood vessels in a way that lights your entire body on fire, you melt against him. You turn to face him, smiling as you tilt his mouth towards yours, joining your lips in a passionate kiss. "Só meu." You echo, letting a quick kiss there before you bury your head in the crook of his neck. James sways your bodies together, gently, to the song that plays.

Maybe you can dance with him, afterall.

_______________________________________________

"Se solta, meu amor" = Jamss telling reader to let themselves loose.

"Dança uma comigo e a gente vai pra casa, meu bem." = Dance a song with me and we'll go home, lovely. (lovely is not an exact translation here but there are no literal words for meu bem, sorryy)

"Pilantra" = reader calling James a menace in portuguese <3

"Só seu" "Só meu" = respectively "only yours" "only mine"

[tomssexdoll]

hii i was wondering if you can do a tom angst where he keeps ignoring the reader and constantly leaving her behind and when the reader confronts tom about they argue and tom says something so rude like “not my fault my career is more important than you” or something like that. it can end with fluff, smut, whatever you think it should end with 🩷🩷. i really hope this made sense like it does in my head😭 mwah mwah 💋

YESS

Left behind

"It's not my fault my career is more important than you!"

PAIRINGS: Tom 2015 x Female reader

CONTENT: ANGST + SMUT + FLUFF

SYPNOSIS: After Tom starts treating Y/N badly she finally decides to confront him. It goes horribly and they end up in an explosive argument where he says something horrible, causing her to storm out and leave for a few days.

A/N: hey guysss!

WARNINGS: dom!tom, reader!sub, p in v (missionary), eating out, fingering, nip and breast play, arguing

Tom and I's relationship was starting to go sour, he was so busy at work, always out, always leaving me behind and ignoring me when he got home. I tried everything, buying him gifts, cooking him meals, cheering him up, nothing. Nothing worked.

He didn't even argue with me, he just shut me out, like I was worth nothing. I wondered why he was even with me if he wanted to treat me so badly, surely he would've just left me if he got tired of me?

It hurt my heart, seeing how he went from such a loving and caring boyfriend to this? We've been dating for 5 years, we've had our moments but we've always made up, he's never neglected or treated me badly, I wonder why he started now.

I decided to confront him about it, cause why should I continue to let myself be treated like shit, it wasn't fair, if I did this to him he'd blow off the rails. Today was his day off so I decided to let him sleep in before I'd confront him, even though I was mad I still cared about him.

He stepped into the kitchen, grabbing a beer and sitting on the couch, turning the TV on to watch his sports games. I sat down next to him, watching as he didn't even greet me, just ignored my presence.

"Tom.." I nudged him, watching as he ignored me yet again, then I nudged him again, "tom!" I raised my voice. He grunted and turned to me, glaring down at me, "what? Don't you see I'm trying to watch the game?" I scoffed, disgusted by his attitude, "what is wrong with you, am I a stranger or something, why do you treat me like shit!" I got up, yelling at him.

"No, I've just been busy, jeez.." he rolled his eyes, flicking through different channels, sipping at his ice cold beer. "Stop trying to dismiss me, you always fucking do this, I can't believe it Tom," I sighed, "how did you become so cold? So calloused..."

He chuckled mockingly, "oh yeah, blame it on me, your hardworking boyfriend who just wants a good life for his girlfriend, I don't see you working as hard as I do, working multiple hours, organising things and practicing for hours, hm?" he turned to me, sending me a dangerous glare.

"You chose this fucking career and knew how hard it would be, I've told you multiple times to stop working so much and let the others help but you dont fucking listen, it's like talking to a wall Tom!" I couldn't believe him, he was implying I was selfish because I didn't choose such a difficult career like him?

"This is my passion, my dream, why wouldn't I work hard for it?" he pulled his packet of cigarettes, lighting it and taking a long drag. "Tom, I told you not to smoke in the house!" I yelled, snatching the cigarette from his hand and putting it out.

"Oh it's too fucking early to yell, just shut up and sit down," he sighed, "why should I? I can't take it anymore! You're barely home and when you are you shut me out, you ignore me and treat me like shit, what happened to our happy, fun, loving relationship, huh?" I felt tears welling up in my eyes.

He remained silent, focusing on the program on the TV. "Tom! I'm fucking talking to you!" I screamed, grabbing his arm roughly, "oh for fuck sakes, it's not my fucking fault my career is more important than you!" he got up, inching closer to me and screaming in my face.

My jaw dropped, I just stared at him for a few seconds before coming back to my senses. "Fuck you Tom, I'm done," I snatched my keys, storming off, "yeah, leave, I don't fucking want you here anyway!" he shouted, I just ignored his hurtful comments and slammed the front door, getting into my car and speeding off, tears streaming down my face.

I decided to go to his twin brother, Bills house. Him and I were really close, I met him before Tom and we just clicked. I knocked urgently on his door, my chest heaving up and down.

As he came out he took in my hurt expression, instantly pulling me inside and setting me down onto the couch, grabbing a bottle of wine. "What's wrong love, is it Tom?" he sighed, already knowing the root of the problem, pouring me a huge glass.

"Yeah..he's such a fucking asshole, he's become super distant and cold, ignoring me and treating me like a stranger! I don't know why, I don't know if he's cheating or he just doesn't care anymore," I sobbed, a big weight on my chest from all the emotions.

"Fuck..I told him he'd hurt you, he never listens he's so selfish," Bill gave me my glass, watching as I took a huge sip. "He was telling me about how work is so stressful and how he's scared he's taking it out on you, what he's been saying and doing," his hand came down to my thigh, rubbing it gently.

"So he knows what he's doing? Fucking great.." I rolled my eyes, taking another big sip from my glass, then setting it down and grabbing a cigarette from Bill, lighting it and letting the smoke fill my lungs.

"You can stay as long as you like, I'm going to speak to him now though, stay here honey," he kissed my forehead, grabbing his phone and rushing into his bedroom.

While he was gone, I could hear him screaming at Tom, berrating him for how much he's hurt me. The bitterness in his voice echoing throughout the whole house.

As the days went by, the longer I stayed at Bills the more I detatched from Tom, my feelings slowly slipping away. I still had a enourmous amount of love for him but I felt myself letting go.

He didn't even try call or text me, not even after Bill yelled at him. I wondered if he had already moved on, found another girl he could use and abuse.

I spent my day with Bill, going to clubs, parties, dinners, lunch dates, etc. I really missed Bill, him being busy with work too really did take a toll on our friendship but as usual it bounced right back.

We decided to go to the beach, unwind and have a few drinks. He rented an area just for us to sit and relax at. I knew the paparazzi would be taking millions of photos of us, twitter headlines that suspected us being together, but I didn't care, I just needed to relax.

As we arrived I set up a spot, sticking our umbrella in the sand and unfolding our lounge chairs. "Here you go y/n," Bill smirked, handing me a flask of vodka, pulling one out for himself.

"Bill, we look like alcoholics," I giggled, putting my sunglasses on and relaxing, letting the warmth of the sun kiss my skin.

As hours passed and the sun started to set, I heard a familiar car roaring in the distance. I then saw Toms figure frantically running, searching for me. As soon as our eyes locked, a wash of relief displayed on his face.

He ran towards us, the sand flying in the air around him with every step. "Baby..oh my god.." he panted, I just turned my head and ignored him, enjoying the view of the sun setting.

"Please, just talk to me, do anything, yell at me, hit me," he pleaded, a hint of desperation in his voice. I continued to ignore him, showing him what it felt like for me, how hurt I felt.

"Baby!" he cried out, getting on his knees beside me and leaving trails of kisses on my thighs. "Tom, if she isn't responding, leave her alone," he rolled his eyes, sipping at his drink.

I kept ignoring Tom, even moving my leg to stop his kisses. "Please schatzi, please let me make it up to you, I'm so sorry for treating you badly, you know I love you so so much, I love you more than life itself, just let me make it up to you..please.." his voice shaky.

I sighed, my heart cracking slightly at the pain in his voice. I just turned my body away from him, completely shutting him out. "No..no no no baby.." he whimpered, wrapping his arms around my waist and pulling me against his chest, sobbing into my shoulder.

My eyes widened as I heard him cry, he never cried around me and when he did I knew it was serious. "Please..I can't lose you, I know I'm a fucking idiot, I know i've been a shitty boyfriend, I'll do anything to make you happy, I'll scream and tell the whole world how much I love you.." his tears coating my shoulder.

I couldn't see him in pain anymore, it broke me. I turned around and stood on my knees, hugging him tightly and stroking his hair. "Shhh baby.." I cooed, leaving small kisses on his neck.

"Oh baby...I love you so much, I need to make it up to you, please let me.." he continued to sob, his shaky arms wrapped around me. I nodded and pulled back, getting up and hugging Bill, "I have to Bill..." I sighed, "I know honey, go ahead," he smiled, patting my thigh softly.

I smiled back, turning around and holding Tom's hand, walking with him back to his car. We were silent the whole Tom, I guess he didn't want to fuck things up, he was super lucky he even got a second chance.

The car ride home was just as silent, his hand tightly gripping my thigh, as if he was trying to hold onto me incase I slipped away. As we got home he practically dragged me inside, slamming the door shut and rushing to the bedroom.

He pulled me into his lap and just held me, whispering about how sorry he was, how he was an idiot to push me away and treat me the way he did, how he didn't mean any of the things he said in the argument, how he was just mad and not thinking properly.

"Let me make it up to you, let me show you how beautiful and worthy you are," he pulled back, admiring me. "How so.." I bit my lip, his head turned to the back and then back at me, hinting his idea.

"Alright.." I smiled and kissed his cheek, getting off his lap and laying back on the bed. He quickly followed, towering over me and capturing my lips in a soft, passionate kiss, not one filled with lust of anger, one that showed me his love for me.

He started to undress, desire burning in his eyes. First his jacket, then his shirt, then his jeans. All he was left in was his dark grey boxers, his cock straining against them.

He dived down against, holding my waist carefully while kissing me again, our lips locking in a passionate embrace. I kissed him back, deepening the connection, his strong hands roaming my body, reacquainting themselves with every curve and hollow.

He nipped at my bottom lip, basically asking for permission to take things further. I nodded and opened my mouth, his tongue delving into my mouth and exploring in a passionate and hungry kiss.

His hands sliding down to my hips as he pressed his hips against mine, his growing arousal evident against my thigh, "god...I've missed you so much," he sighed, planting kisses down my jawline, down to my neck.

He sucked softly, kissing all the right spots on my neck and leaving marks, then moving down to my chest, his hands reaching behind my neck and removing my bikini top, revealing my hard nipples.

"Ohhh fuck.." he groaned, his gaze immediately dropping to my exposed chest. He wastes no time in leaning down to taste them, licking and sucking at my nipple, his hands kneeding my other boob, making sure to pay worship every part of me.

"Tonight it's all about you, all about your pleasure..I want to make you feel loved, make up for all the times I made you feel neglected.." he mumbled on my skin, looking up at me.

I nodded and smiled, his lips kissed down from my breasts to my stomach, the sensation making my whole body tingle as he went closer to my burning heat.

"Tom.." I whined, bucking my hips up. "Okay, okay baby.." he chuckled, wrapping his fingers around the ties of my bikini bottom and slowly letting the knot loose, peeling it off me and revealing my wet, aching cunt.

"Jesus.." his breath hitched, eyes widening. "You like what you see?" I smirked, teasing him, "oh do I? What kind of question is that.." he dived his face into my sopping pussy, licking a stripe through my folds.

His hands held my thighs open as he started to flick his tongue at my clit, moaning against me with the taste of my arousal. "You're so sweet baby..fuck.." he groaned, his tongue swirling around my clit with calculated precision.

His hands slid up, sliding 2 fingers into my hole and penetrating me gently, making sure to curl his fingers at my g spot. "Ohh Tom, oh fuck it's so good!" I cried out, rolling my eyes back as the pleasure became more intense.

As he hears my cries of ecstacy, he knows he's hit the right spot. He moans against my pussy, the vibrations sending waves of pleasure throughout me, he uses his fingers to finger me harder, "you like that, hm? The way I finger fuck you while sucking on your needy clit.." he growled, "yes yes yes!" I whined, his tongue flicking at my clit, a knot forming in my stomach to signal my upcoming release.

He feels my pussy clench around his fingers as I get closer to my orgasm, continuing to work my clit with his tongue, determained to make me cum harder than ever before. He hooks his fingers inside me again, making me let out a loud, whiny moan.

"Good girl, let go on my fingers.." he chuckled, I rolled my eyes back and threw my head back as my release hit me, spilling my juices all over his fingers.

"Ohh baby.." he grinned, pulling his dripping fingers out and sucking every bit of slick on his left on them. His eyes darted back to mine, his erection throbbing wildly.

"You want me to fuck you, make you scream?" he crawled closer, his muscular frame hovering over me, I nodded eagerly, reaching down and freeing his cock, it slapped against his abdomen and stood tall, his tip leaking pre.

"So eager for my cock, such a good girl," he smirked, positioning his tip at my entrance and slowly pushing in, wasting no time. He grips my hips and thrusts himself deeper inside of me, his movements are slow and deliberate at first, savouring every sensation.

"Mmm, faster please..." I whined, looking up at him with doe eyes, he instantly obeyed, only wanting the best for me. He starts to speed up, his balls slapping against my wet pussy with each powerful thrust, "ahhh!" I cried out, holding onto his biceps for balance.

"That's it, scream for me, show me how much you love this cock.." he groaned, gripping my hips tighter as he starts to fuck me even harder, his cock hitting that gummy spot in me.

His thrusts becoming more erratic as he pushes himself deeper inside of me, filling me up completely, making sure he wasn't the only one experiencing euphoria.

He grunts with pleasure, leaning forward and kissing me passionately as he slams into me, his cock throbbing with intense need. He can feel my tighten around him again, getting ready to cum all over his cock.

"You gonna cum on this cock baby?" he teased, nipping at my earlobe. "Yesss! Yes, yes fuck!" I cried out, the sound of skin slapping filling our ears. He grins wickedly at me, his gaze dark and filled with desire.

He continues to pound into me roughly with every ounce of strength he has, "gonna cum baby!" he moaned loudly, rolling his eyes back as his release was just as close as mine.

He grunts and thrusts harder, feeling my pussy tighten around him as I came, he keeps fucking me throughout my orgasm, riding out the waves of pleasure with me. "Fuckk.." he groaned, finally reaching his peak and emptying himself inside of me.

He rode out his high, panting and collapsing on top of me, his chest heaving up and down as he tried to calm down from his earth shattering orgasm.

After resting, he layed back on the bed, pulling me onto his chest and stroking my back, our naked bodies melting together, finally feeling the love again after so long.

"Why were you so mean Tom.." I mumbled, not having the strength to look up at him. "I don't know baby, I was just stressed and didn't handle my emotions properly which resulted in me taking it out on you, I should've never done it and I'm so sorry liebe," he sighed, kissing the top of my head tenderly.

"It's okay, I forgive you.." I sighed, burying my face into his chest. He chuckled lightly and continued to caress me, not missing any spot on my body.

"I love you so much Y/N, I swear I will act better and make it up to you, I'll do anything to fix it.." he whispered, I smiled and drifted off to sleep, tired from our lovemaking session.

As I woke up the next morning I realised Tom wasn't in bed, I was confused and got up, searching the house for him. "Tom?" I called out, "here baby!" he shouted back, I smiled and ran towards the kitchen, gasping as I saw a huge bouquet of red roses, my favourite.

Beside the flowers were sets of wrapped gifts, some small, some medium. I ran over to him and hugged him tightly, peppering kisses all over his face. "Liebe..thankyou.." I smiled, turning to the presents and opening the smallest one.

A little velvet box stared back at me, I opened it to reveal a beautiful, diamond necklace. It was an infinity symbol, "that's a symbol of our love, it's eternal.." he smiled, a tear forming in his eye.

"Oh baby..you're so amazing," I cried out and kissed him passionately. I turned around and let him put the necklace on me, his touch soft and promising.

tags: @itsmealaiah @itsangelll @ballhair

tags: @kaulitzsbabyy @kaulitzswhxre @cosmicck

tags: @bkaulitzlover @ge-billsgf @miyukafujii

tags: @tomsonlyslut @ella1289 @20doozers

[poetry-protest-pornography]

Can we talk about how Phum and Peem are looking at each other here, after Chai Pun's Lady and The Tramp moment?

Fang is looking at them like "Oh, I know what this means, how good we miss that?" And Beer is like "Why are they like this?", but Phum and Peem?

Looking right at each other, both so serious and heavy and clearly having caught on with the vibe between Chain and Pun -- or maybe just latching onto Chain's "I like it!" and recognizing it for the confession that it is.

So Phum and Peem don't even look at Pun almost skating himself off his chair, they just sit there, with the half-acknowledged feelings they have for each other hanging between them.

And it pushes at both of them. Pushes Peem to almost confess and announce his feelings for Phum. Pushes Phum to pick up the confession when Peem's bravery fails him. (Like when Peem initiated their first kiss, when it was clear Phum wasn't going to take the risk. It was Phum's turn to take the big step.)

And all of this, in the middle of a chaotic moment for the rest of their friends, they're just... Looking at each other like they each have the answer the other wants.

Yes, I'm totally normal about them; why do you ask?

[olsenmyolsen]

I Can Fix Her (No Really I Can)

master list . dark master list . Sequel to imgonnagetyouback

MCU (Female Reader X Natasha Romanoff)

Summary: You and Wanda Maximoff used to be something, but now that you're with Natasha Romanoff, Wanda can't stand by and let it happen.

Word Count: 1.4K

Content: Confused/Sad/Hurt Natasha, Manipulation, Heartbreak

tagging: @alexawynters @viktoriaromanovaa @flositaa @diffidentphantom @scarlettbitchx

It had been a week since your girlfriend, Natasha Romanoff, returned from her mission.

A week since Wanda kissed you.

A week since you wanted more of Wanda.

A week since she said she was gonna get you back. One way or another.

But now here you were, looking out the floor-to-ceiling windows to the courtyard in between the compound. Natasha was sat on top of a bench with her clothed legs spread and her feet firmly planted on the wooden part where most people would sit.

Natasha used to be a smoker. A habit she picked up to deal with her past lives. A habit she broke around the time you joined the team. Yet you watched as the smoke billowed out her mouth like a freight train through a small town.

Natasha shook her and looked up to the sky. Strom clouds were beginning to roll in, and you couldn't exactly see what Natasha said, but it looked like she was asking a question.

The Black Widow wasn't stupid. She's caring and loving to the right people. A true fighter. She can see the guilt and pain behind your eyes when you think she doesn't notice. She can see the turmoil in your head even if you think you were faking it.

It pains Natasha because she doesn't know what to do. Or what caused this?

If Romanoff had to guess, Wanda would be the answer.

Natasha shakes her head once more and scoffs as she takes one last drag of her cigarette before putting it out. Her mind replaying a conversation with Steve Rogers from a few months prior.

"She just got out of the relationship with Wanda. Are you sure she's someone you want to be with?" Steve was cautious with his phrasing. Natasha just took a sip of her beer as the two of them sat at a bar in the middle of the city. Josie's was the name.

A crush wasn't the exact word. But Natasha had been fascinated with you from the start. Since the day you walked through the doors of the compound. However, you were a touch closer in age to Wanda Maximoff, and Natasha still struggled with her personal mind games. But after so long, you were now single again and fresh out of the slammer of a toxic relationship everyone could see from a mile away.

"I know what I'm doing, Rogers," Natasha said as she kept her hands around the bottle—not looking at her friend.

Steve sighed. "I just don't want to see you hurt." Natasha knew Steve only wanted what was best. But to Natasha, you were it. You were supposed to be someone to change the prophecy Natasha had been handed in life.

"I know Steve. Thank you." Natasha was quiet as she looked into Steve's blue eyes. He gave her a brief smile back. "God help her." He said, Natasha knew he wasn't talking about you.

Natasha scoffed with a laugh. "Your good Lord doesn't need to lift a finger. I can fix her." Steve raised an eyebrow to Natasha's words. "No, really, I can."

"And only I can," Natasha whispered to herself just as raindrops started to land on her.

You who got tired of watching your gi- your- Natasha wallow open the glass door to the courtyard as the skies opened up. "Natasha!" You yelled as you ran towards her, taking your hoodie off and holding it up above her head. Natasha turned towards you in your Toyotathon t-shirt and smiled at that and your action.

You still care about me. Natasha thought to herself before she looked towards your eyes. She always did and always will love them. "Let's get you inside!" You spoke up as thunder cracked above you. Natasha nodded as she jumped off the bench and wrapped her arms around you.

You melted slightly against her.

You love her. You do.

As the two of you entered Natasha's room, the redhead let go of you and closed the door behind you. She then turned her green eyes towards your gaze and smiled. It was a genuine smile. "Hi," Natasha said, making you smile and chuckle. "Hi," You replied as if you were a shy teenager.

But then again, the two of you kind of were. Since Natasha came back, it was as if the two of you had learned the right steps but to different dances. And now, here, in Natasha's room, a little wet in front of the rain, the two of you felt like you were finally on the same page once more.

Natasha made her way to you and backed you up until your legs hit her bed, causing you to fall down. The action making the two of you laugh.

Before you could even speak, Natasha was on top of you. Kissing you softly with her love behind every kiss. Her need to be enough an underlying hidden meanining. When Natasha lifted her face, she smiled as she could practically see the dopamine racing through your brain.

She still had an effect on you.

She always would.

To a certain extent.

"What was that for?" You felt silly asking as you raised your hand to Natasha's cheek. Your hand so callous from your pistol tracing hearts gently on her face. "Because I love you," Natasha replied as if it was casual, but this was one of the handful of times Natasha said or would ever say it to you.

Your mouth dropped ever so slightly as Natasha grabbed your hand and locked her fingers between yours, moving them from her cheek to her lips. Kissing the pads of your fingers. "I love you too." You replied after seconds had passed.

"God help her." Rang through Natasha's mind.

She ignored it and brought her body down to yours. The taste of her lips makes you blush again. You loved the flavor. Always had.

You moved your hands further down Natasha's backside as the exchange between the two of you became more heated—a mix of lust and wanting.

Your warm fingers sent Natasha ablaze when they went below her black shirt. The contact leaving Natasha gasping as she lifted herself off you. The two of your lips darker.

I can fix her.

Natasha brought her hand to the bottom of her shirt and lifted it up and off her. Throwing it to a forgotten place on the floor. Her black bra distracting you. "Come on. It's your turn." Natasha teased as she gave you a quick peck before helping you out of your shirt. Your bare chest immediately on display.

Natasha loved it. Especially the group of freckles that danced across your left boob. Slowly, she brought her hands up to it. A whisper of a moan fell from your mouth before Natasha took your chin and pulled you into her again.

"Good girl." Natasha moaned out as your mouth ended up leaving marks of maroon on her chest and abs. You smiled into her skin. "Oh god, you're an angel for me." Natasha couldn't help but voice in sighs.

You moaned into her head as Natasha worked her down your body this time. "Oh, baby!"

Natasha smirked hearing you.

No, really, I can.

Yourblackpanties stayed hung around your ankle as Natasha spread you wider. The sight was always divine, but your taste was something Natasha had never wanted to take for granted. Yet she was a woman starved today. A woman who wanted you to scream her name. Natasha wanted you to cum for her. To be there for her.

Natasha loved you.

You threw your head back as Natasha ate you out and finger fucked you. Your moans and whimpers were past the point of euphoric. You were more than happy in this moment. The love you felt and gave was on another planet.

Yet, in an instant, your thoughts became muddled and confused; about someone else.

The words left your mouth and changed everything in the matter of seconds.

With a smile, Natasha kissed up your body. The taste of you still on her fingers and tongue, you moaned: "Oh, Wanda."

Natasha froze and looked into your eyes to see them... unchanged. You hadn't realized your words... maybe that's what made Natasha's heart hurt more even after you broke it.

It's that you didn't even notice...

Woah, maybe I can't.

Maybe I can't fix her.

Down the hall in her room, Wanda Maximoff opened her red eyes as they faded back to green and smirked.

dividers by @/benkeibear

[watchingblsnowandforever]

We Are Ep. 11

Part 2

Hello again!!!

Here's part 1 of this post. It's not necessary to read that, but this does follow directly from there.

Warning: long post 😊😅

And again, we see Phum coming here for no reason but to drop Peem off.

Also, he usually just stayed in the car previously, but now he's walking with Peem all the way.

I reckon we'll be seeing much more of Phum appearing in front of the Fine Arts building for nothing but to drop off or talk to his boyfriend Peem, in a slight reflection of all the times he came here to take Peem off somewhere to make him do something for him.

And I can't wait for it. <3

Q: something very gay is going on here hmm 🤨

Be glad it's Q (who has enough tact to ask you about it in private) and not Toey who'd immediately call y'all out 😭

He played in water all day with Phum and then they cuddled all night. Next question.

Poor Peem 😭

You just confessed you woke up together 😭

And you think someone as smart (most of the times) as Q wouldn't catch on?

[Also, just an observation: Peem is painting a scenery with water here too.]

Beer knows everything. 😌

He's the only one in their combined friend groups with two braincells, and he has no difficulty calling out his friends (Phum) when they're being idiots.

And again 😭

I see it's not your turn with the braincell yet, Peem

Also, the chicken sounds in the background I was dying 😭😂

Phum's backstory was painful to hear, but I kind of expected something like this. It would explain his attachment to plushies, his fear of losing people and behaviour that might seem "childish".

SO CUTE OH MY GODS

Q gives his beloved pencil case to his beloved nong Toey to draw on, and what does Toey do? Make the most adorable doodle of his beloved P'Q 😭👍🏼

Seriously though, this is really good, and it also probably has a beautiful symbolism that I'm too lazy to go into right now 😭

Coming from Q that means a lot. And Toey knows that very well.

Again, what secretly, you're both about as subtle as the glaring sun on a hot summer day.

And it's time you two idiots (affectionate) get your shit together and kiss as boyfriends (gods know you've kissed as... whatever you are right now more times than I can keep count).

Yeah! You're talking nonsense, Phum, it's obvious you fell first!

*sigh* honestly though, at this point, I don't know how, but they managed to be worse than even ChainPun.

Jokes apart, I know they're both a bit insecure, and they didn't get off to the best start. But I hope that in the next ep, they'll realize they're both head over heels for the other and finally start dating.

Also, about time Peem finally accepted Phum as his personal driver <3

That scene in the shop was very sweet too, and most PhumPeem scenes in this ep had me going all gooey and mushy hehe

This show I calling me out 🥲

But I'm even worse because I can only make Maggi (with or without added condiments) 😭

Do y'all see the importance of this moment?!

Phum in the painting studio?!

This painting studio is Peem's safe space, and he's allowing Phum in there willingly.

Slowly, but surely, he's letting Phum in, and starting to accept that yes, this guy is an idiot, but he's an idiot Peem really really likes.

I knew this was coming but that didn't mean I was ready for it 🫣😳

TanFang are absolutely slaying

Love them. <3

This scene is a goddamn masterpiece. It rendered me speechless. What am I supposed to say to that?

Peem's soft little "You did a great job, getting through those times." has me in a chokehold. The nose boop, the kiss- I'm screaming crying rolling around on the bed.

Tried to do a confident walk away but the gate was in his way 😭

Peem is me though, I bump into things like thrice a day at the least.

He- 😶

I gasped at this scene, because you realize what this means right?

This painting, that was ruined due to Phum, that he had to painstakingly repaint while having to obey Phum's whims, this painting that represents his comfort (I don't know shit about art interpretation, but in grade 12 I had friends who'd taken art and I learnt a couple things from them), that represents himself, and in this painting, he adds bright red roses, for the ones that Phum gave him when he was driving him back because he was absolutely wasted, the roses he didn't have the heart to throw out.

And he's drawing these red roses to represent Phum, to show that inexplicably, but undeniably, Phum is a part of his life now; a part he likes enough to embed in one of his most prized paintings (as assumed from various context clues and such along the series). And when he does, he thinks of how Professor Po said "Every work you create contains a piece of you".

If doesn't show that despite his caustic and sarcastic exterior, Peem is a sappy mushy romantic at heart (he is a Fine Arts student after all), I don't know what does.

This moment felt so poetic (I literally could write a poem about it and it still wouldn't be able to capture the raw beauty and vulnerability and love of this scene.)

I really like this scene.

Apart from not leaving Kluen hanging, and making sure he knows, this moment is also about Peem admitting to himself aloud, that yes, he does like Phum. He's slowly getting out of De Nile.

He didn't have to say this, but he did. To gently reject Kluen and tell himself that there was no going back now.

Matt: what in the gay chicken-

Toey: ooh this seems interesting. will they kiss? 👀

Poor Chain 😭

Let him enjoy being shipped with his husband bestie!

And all the while these two are having a staring contest to decide who'll tell their friends.

Beer knows exactly what's going on.

This moment is everything to me (other than the one in the painting studio of course0.

Peem tried to muster the courage to tell all his friends that he and Phum were... well, more than enemies or friends at least, but he couldn't.

And Phum, my beloved, while more than a little emotionally constipated, he has consistently tried to tell Peem what he feels. And now, he's the one outright saying he likes Peem in front of everyone. He's the one saying "okay, if you can't, I will." And I love him for it. He does it while staring right at Peem too.

Live Reactions of Friends Who Just Found Out that the Guy Who Ruined Other Guy's Painting and The Other Guy, Who Kicked Him In The Balls For It, Have Fallen Victim to the BL Laws and Are Now Very Much In Love

Beer: knew it 😌

Fang: my little brother?!

Tan: YOU AREN'T SWORN ENEMIES?!

Matt: I have to deal with another couple?? 🥺🥲

Q: I'm not drunk enough to deal with this shit.

Toey: wait... I WAS RIGHT?!!

That freaking cliffhanger though 🥲

It's better now but at the moment I wanted to commit homicide 😭

I'm sorry, I couldn't help myself, Q's "RIGHT IN FRONT OF MY SALAD?!" expression is just too hilarious 😭😂

So that's all for ep 11, see you next week!

And if you made it this far, thank you so much for reading! 😊

Here, have a burger and some fries 🍔🍟

[If you want, my previous posts: Ep. 8 Ep.9 Ep.10]

[weird-is-life]

Rockstar!tasm! Peter meeting Shy!reader on one of his shows? Invites her backstage to meet the band and he's just real flirty w her? Please

Hii, lovely!🫶 thank u so much for this request. This was fun to write. If you have anymore rockstar!Peter requests send them my way!!!! Hope this is okay. Warnings: fluff, use of y/n and pet names, mentions of alcohol, concert, flirting, mentions of big crowd, (2k)

Your best friends drag you to a concert of some upcoming band they love. Honestly, you don't know a thing about them only that they are allegedly pretty good, and that your friends are paying for your drinks tonight.

The whole place is packed with people, because it's not just one band playing, there are multiple bands playing throughout the whole night. The pretty big venue, but it still does nothing to make it more spacey. There's barely any place to move.

You thought you didn't mind so many people at one place, but as you try to get to the bar through the sea of sweaty bodies, you don't feel very happy that you're there.

You've lost your friends on the way to the bar as well, so you're on your own to get through the crowd. You hope that you'll meet your friends there.

You're almost at the bar when suddenly there's something cold and very very wet going down the front of your t-shirt. And by the smell of it, you can tell it's alcohol.

"Shit. I'm so sorry," the person panics in front of you," I didn't see you, like at all."

You slowly look up from your cold, wet t-shirt to the person speaking. It's a extremely handsome guy. Like 'your breath gets knocked out' handsome type. And no, you aren't even being dramatic.

He's dressed in all black, sleeveless t-shirt, black baggy jeans and black eyeliner. You don't think you've ever seen such abpretty and cute guy. He seems a bit familiar too, but you can't pinpoint where you've seen him before.

But you're t-shirt is still very much wet as you respond," it's-it's okay. There's just too many people, i know you didn't mean to."

You don't know what to do next. You don't have anything else to wear but this t-shirt. And your friends are still nowhere to be seen.

"Still, I'm very sorry," he apologetically looks at you, soft smile on his face. "Do you have anything else to wear?"

"I don't," you reply with a sigh.

"Shit," he curses looking around frantically. He looks like he has places to be, so you honestly don't want to keep him more than you've already had.

"It's whatever, I'll survive the few more hours, I guess. I'm sorry about your drinks tho," you give him a small, sheepish smile, and start going towards the bar again to find your friends.

You don't get far because he gently catches your hand, "as much as I think some guys would enjoy the wet t-shirt contest look, I would be an asshole to let you stay like this. Please let me get you a new t-shirt?"

Your cheeks go red at his words.

"It's really not that big deal-" you start.

"It is to me." He tells you. "Please, let me get you a t-shirt that doesn't reek of beer and vodka," he offers again with a chuckle.

You think it over for a few seconds as he looks hopefully at you, there's something else in the way he looks at you, but you can't quite name what it is.

"Okay, yeah," you say, and he smiles big at you," but where can you find a shirt here. There's nothing here."

He gives you the cheekiest smirk as he says, " don't worry about that. I'll get one for you. Just come with me."

He points to the doors you know lead to the backstage. You shake your head in disagreement, "we can't go there."

"We can, I know the people, so let's go," he starts to head thar way, but you don't budge. Overthinking it too much.

"Am I getting kidnapped?" you worry lightly. Even if you have a strong feeling, that you can trust this guy,

He laughs at your question,"no, definitely not. But if you want to wait here, it's okay, too. I'll bring it to you."

You think it over, and decide that you'd rather not stay in the middle of this pit of sweaty people. And also because you've never been backstage before, so you're curious.

"No, no, it's alright. I'll come with you."

He nods happily, "great. I'm Peter by the way."

"I'm y/n."

He starts to walk again, and this time you follow him. You have a hard time keeping up with him. With his long legs it's not easy to get through the crowd as he does.

Peter notices it, he stops, and suddenly there's his big, warm hand around yours.

Calloused fingers like guitarist's holding onto yours tightly, so he doesn't loose you. It makes the butterflies in your stomach go crazy.

He tugs you after him with an ease, and in no time you're in the backstage area.

Peter doesn't drop your hand, though, and he leads you even farther to some dressing room. He walks inside it so casually, and to your horror he pulls you inside with him.

There are 3 more guys in that room, all of them similarly dressed to Peter, looking very much like some rockstars. Peter finally drops your head, "give me a second, I'll find some clean t-shirt in my bag for you."

He leaves you standing in the middle of the room with your cheeks very rosy at the attention of the three other boys.

"I'm s-sorry, I didn't mean to intrude. I'll...I'll go wait outside," you point at the door.

"You're not intruding," Peter says softly, " these are my boys..." he names all of them, and each of them gives you a warm smile and a nod.

Fuck. You suddenly realise. They must be some kind of band playing tonight.

"It's nice to meet you. Do...Are you playing on the stage tonight?" You question curiously.

"Yeah," Peter finally finds you a t-shirt, and walks back towards you. "We are the last band playing tonight," Peter hands you the clothing, and you thank him. Still very shy at the thought that you are currently standing in the middle of some band's dressing room.

"There's a bathroom right here, you can go change, yeah?" Peter suggests carefully, he doesn't want to make you uncomfortable or anything.

He thinks you are really, really pretty, and that it must be fate that you bumped into each other tonight. Peter only knows your name, and he knows he's fucked already. Like full on crush.

You only take a few seconds to clean yourself up, and change into Peter's t-shirt. When you come out of the bathroom, the guys are all standing, readying for the stage already.

"Hey, look at you, my t-shirt looks great on you, even if it's a little big," he compliments you with an easy smile, and you, once again, blush at his flirty tone.

"Thank you," you tell him," and thank you for the t-shirt, I really appreciate. I'm gonna go now though, i don't want to bother you anymore. I'll see you around. And thanks again."

You give him a wave with the intend to dissappear quickly out of there. Your friends are definitely wondering where you are by now. And also because your legs would probably give out if you had to endure one more flirty smile from Peter.

"Hey, hey, hey, wait up," Peter runs after you," I-I was wondering, if you would want to come listen from the side of the stage?

He looks unsurely at you. He has some kind of paper in his fidgeting hands.

"I can't, I'm sorry. I'm here with two of my best friends, so I can't even if I'd love to." You look regretfully at him.

"Then they should come, too! Please, it's the least I can do for spilling my drinks all over you." Peter blurts it all out way too quickly then he means to. Not keeping his cool composure near you like at all.

"Are you sure? We wouldn't want to bother," you ask quietly. Even if you'd really, really love seeing the band from the backstage. Because you don't want to go back into the messy crowd of people.

"You definitely won't bother anybody. It would be my pleasure actually to have you there. I can at least have some pretty girl like you there to dedicate our songs to," he winks at you. Flirting without much thought about it with you.

You can't say you don't like it. You do. Way too much than you probably should. So you say, "okay, yes. I'll text them right now."

"Great," he says with a big beam," and here, take this before I leave. Dave will escort you to the side of the stage." Peter pushes the paper from his hands to yours, and points at the bodyguard.

"Wait, Peter, what's this?"

"It's an address. If you could mail me the t-shirt back, it's my favourite," Peter tells you carefully, not wanting to sound like a dick.

"Oh, of course. That won't be any problem," you immediately assure him.

He nods at you, and leans in to give you a quick kiss on the cheek. Don't worry, he gives you the time to push him away, but you don't. You would never. He just couldn't say goodbye to you without ever kissing your pink cheek in his lifetime.

"I'm so glad i bumped into you," he tells you breathlessly, "I'll see you on the stage," and with that he's off. Leaving you a blushing mess as you scramble to text your friends to come to the backstage.

When they finally arrive, you follow Dave to the side of the stage as your friends stare around them in huge awe.

It's even worse when you finally get to the stage. "How the fuck did you manage to get us in here?" Your friends question.

"It's a long story, I'll tell it to you later." They just shake their heads at you, not able to believe where they are.

They eyes, and yours, go impossibly wider once the band shows up, and they start playing.

Peter immediately looks your way, grins at you and sends you a wink. You just smile bashfully at him.

Your friends eyes are instantly on you, "um excuse me, why is Peter Parker unabashedly flirting across the stage with you?" They squeal as they ask that.

Your face goes white. You didn't realise that Peter was Peter freaking Parker. Lead singer of that upcoming band your friends dragged you here to see. You almost pass out at the realisation.

You can't believe that the future rockstar is openly flirting with you across the stage, and your friends can't either.

Your friends demand to know what exactly happened, so you tell them. They go even more crazy after that.

When the concert is eventually over, you and your friends get escorted away from there by Dave, so you don't even get the chance to say goodbye to Peter or even be bold enough to ask for his number.

It's later after you spend a few days moping about your wasted chance with Peter that you finally get the strength to send him his t-shirt back.

You find the crumpled paper that Peter gave you, and only then you realise what's really written on it. Your mouth goes wide open.

Dear y/n,

I lied it's not my favourite t-shirt. You can keep it. I wanted to ask for your number, but I didn't want to pressure you into thinking that you had to give it to me just because I got you backstage (or just because I'm a handsome rockstar). So here's my number +xxxx xxx xxx, I liked you, like a lot, so please feel free to text me or you can ignore me, both is totally fine. Even if I may end up heartbroken, and write sad songs about you if you do decide to ignore me. Just kidding......maybe

With love,

Peter P.

You squeal so loudly that probably the whole neighbourhood hears you. You make a few laps around your apartment as you try to calm yourself down. You can't really believe it. You even read it a few more times just to make it real.

Once you do calm your racing heart, you call your best friends over to help you figure out what to text Peter. They very gladly agree to come.

And let's just say Peter is just as enthusiasticly waiting for the text from you as you are to write it to him.

[bambisspeckles]

Before I Sleep (Snippet/WIP)

CW: reader drinks beer, simon is kinda creepy and gross (hes just awkward D:), mildly edits (as of right now), i think thats it!

─── ⋆⋅𐀔⋅⋆ ────── ⋆⋅𐀔⋅⋆ ────── ⋆⋅𐀔⋅⋆ ────── ⋆⋅𐀔⋅⋆ ──────

Snippet 1 <3

"Sorry… Didn't mean to scare ya. Seemed like you er' havin a hard time so I just bought em' for you.." Despite the fact that this man could snap you in two he almost seemed like he was out of place in the conversation, like he didn't belong in it. Ironic because he started the exchange. Either way you're not sure if you should run or stay put.

There's a few more seconds of silence before you finally speak, to you it almost feels like hours.

"Um, thank you.. I mean that was- It was kind of you to do that." You reach out to grab the beers before stopping your arm mid reach. Should you really be taking beers from some random guy? I mean he said he was in the store at the same time as you but you didn't even fucking see him! Your arm flails around in the air a bit before you just say 'fuck it' and grab the beers from him. A soft but hesitant smile graces your lips as you look up at him.

"Thank you again… I really do appreciate your um, kindness." He grunts in acknowledgement. The man doesn't seem very fond of speaking you note.

─── ⋆⋅𐀔⋅⋆ ────── ⋆⋅𐀔⋅⋆ ────── ⋆⋅𐀔⋅⋆ ────── ⋆⋅𐀔⋅⋆ ──────

Snippet 2 <3

Simon doesn't want you to leave, not yet.

He awkwardly attempts to make some sort of conversation to keep you longer. He doesn't want to scare you off just yet, despite the fact that he's tempted to scoop you up and take you to his home right now. He doesn't think he's doing a good job of keeping you here though, you seem a bit uncomfortable, maybe even a tad bit frightened. Simon hates that it makes his heart pound a bit, he almost wants to tell you to run from him, that he's practically as bad as the men who lurk in the shadows.

He introduces himself to you, trying to stall time, he tells you he lives a few blocks down and then asks you if you've moved in recently. His question makes you squirm. God he wants to make you squirm again.

"Um no, I don't live here… My erm, boyfriend lives around here." Is what you'd told him, then you say something else he didn't quite catch before you scurried off into the night.

He takes note of the awkward and unsure way you said 'boyfriend.'

─── ⋆⋅𐀔⋅⋆ ────── ⋆⋅𐀔⋅⋆ ────── ⋆⋅𐀔⋅⋆ ────── ⋆⋅𐀔⋅⋆ ──────

I am once again apologizing for my lack of activeness.. I hope these snippets can hold you over until I have time to finish the last part of the fic <3 Maybe i can write a quick drabble too... we'll see! Likes, reblogs, and comments are appreciated and as of right now requests are on <3

[wanderingblindly]

Hey bb!! For the WIP game!

Fuck it, we (don't) ball

Oopsies, fucked my boss

😋🫶

oh god, those are two that will probably get moved to my graveyard folder eventually ((when hell freezes over and I stop being so stubborn). But!!!

Fuck It, We (Don't) Ball:

This was actually meant to be another installment in my silly little Is It Gay Verse! Inspired by that interview in the offseason, when Oscar put together his fake basketball team and -- notably -- didn't include Lando. Snippet below the cut <3

“He’s cheating on me!” Lando gasps, looking down at his phone with comically wide eyes. He thrusts the phone in Daniel’s face, ignoring his closed eyes, and repeats it with more exaggerated emphasis: “My husband is cheating on me!” “Cheers to the happy couple,” Daniel mumbles, pulling the rim of his hat down lower and sinking further into the couch. “With Charles.” He says, shaking the phone where it continues to hang in the space between them. Daniel cracks an eye. “Actually?” “He can’t even play basketball!” Lando whines, tossing his phone onto the couch and hiding his face in his hands. There’s a moment of silence between them – Daniel’s eyes once again closed and Lando peering through his fingers. “You’re s’posed to comfort me, mate.” “I’m sorry your husband kicked you off his imaginary basketball team.” He says without enthusiasm, the words lazy in his semi-consciousness. Clearly Daniel isn’t going to play along – even though Lando is notably not playing. He’s peeved, the edits he saw of Oscar spinning a basketball on his finger suddenly in the back of his mind. The cute slideshow of him smiling through an interview, clearly equal parts uncomfortable and excited, feels like a distant memory. Oscar would put Charles on his basketball team over him? Alex and George? Fine, he can accept being short. Logan? Sure, Americans basically come out of the womb with a basketball, or something. Zhou? He seems confident, Lando can’t argue. But Charles?

Tbh I stll think the idea is cute, I might fiddle with it later....

Oopsies Fucked my Boss:

GOD I JUST WANT TO WRITE A FUCKING OFFICE AU SO BADLY WHY DO NONE OF MY OFFICE IDEAS PAN OUT!!! NONE OF THEM1!! WHAT THE FUCK!!!!! BITCH!!!!!

“He’s not even good at his job!” Max exclaims, slamming his half empty glass on the table – Lando watches the beer sloshes dangerously around the edges, holding back a wince. “We fucking went to Uni together! I’m the reason he even passed Tax! ‘It’s Mr. Leclerc, actually’,” He mocks a French accent with disdain. “Like, are you fucking kidding me?” “Maybe he doesn’t remember you?” Lando suggests light heartedly, hoping to move on from the subject before Max gets even more upse– “Obviously he fucking remembers me! We were,” He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, lowering his voice to a low, harsh whisper. “We slept together, ok? I know he remembers.” Lando stares at him with wide eyes, mimicking his body language and leaning towards the center of the table. “Real shit?” He whispers back, earning an eye roll as Max sits up and downs the remainder of his beer in one go. “No. I’m joking about sleeping with my new fucking boss, obviously. Cheers, mate.”

(original post)

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

just a girl 3

Warnings: this fic will include elements, some dark, such as possible cheating, low self-esteem, noncon/dubcon, and other untagged triggers. Please take this into account before proceeding. It is up to curate your online consumption safely.

Summary: you move in with your sister when your luck turns for the worst.

Characters: Walter Marshall, possible Andy Barber

Author’s Note: Please feel free to leave some feedback, reblog, and jump into my asks. I’m always happy to discuss with you and riff on idea. As always, you are cherished and adored! Stay safe, be kind, and treat yourself💜

Another day, another disappointment. 

You don't know what you’re doing wrong. You have experience, you just lack a few good references. As much as you tell yourself it isn't your fault your past job ended the way it did, you're doubting even that. 

You try to keep out of the way since your last run-in with your brother-in-law. It might be better to consider him your landlord. You go outside as much as you can when he’s home. Sometimes just to walk and forget, but that’s getting harder to do. 

That day, you need to talk to Andy. It’s intimidating like when you used to ask your father to do anything. With Rhiannon, it was one smile and she got her way, but who can ever say no to her? With you, it was always an interrogation. Why do you want to do that? Who with? As if you were lying or up to no good. 

Your trip to the bank helps you sort your nerves, at least a little bit. You have it all rehearsed in your head. And he can’t be unhappy when you’re doing exactly what he told you too. 

A sigh escapes you as you enter the suburban sprawl. Each flawless facade, each primped and preppy housewife, each giggling child reminds you of your displacement. You tuck your hands into your jean pockets, further discomfited by the blazing sun as your Queens of the Stone Age shirt absorbs the heat. 

You have your wired earbuds in, blasting the new album you’ve been anticipating for a year. You pre-ordered when you still had a full-time income. Another reminder of how low you’ve fallen. Money you would gladly take back as you’re not feeling the electric pop flow. 

As you turn a corner, you flinch and dodge out of the way as a black speck approaches from the other side of the street. You assume it’s some kid chasing an errant soccer ball. To your surprise, it’s someone much bigger than any rambunctious fifth grader. 

It’s him. That man with the curly hair. Like you, he’s in jeans. This heat is unforgiving to denim. He wears a dark shirt on top, a hint of chest hair poking out. You look around and turn to continue on your path. He must be running after someone else. 

He calls your name. You only recall his as he falls into step with you. Walter. Your catch your ear buds as they fall out. 

“Hey, you weren’t at the Crayton barbecue,” he comments, “I was lonely.” 

You look at him from the corner of your eye, hands firmly back in your pockets as you push your shoulders up. 

“I’m not much into those things either but my girl is friends with their girl,” he explains, “was thinking you might be into something more lowkey.” 

“Um,” you squint, mourning your lack of sunglasses, “I don’t think so. I’m working on moving out soon...” 

“Yeah, sure, but not tonight,” he insists. “Chicken burgers only, promise.” 

You glance over at him. He’s taunting you. 

“I didn’t... I wasn’t... my sister told me to--” 

“Oh, so should I ask her if you should come over for a beer?” He challenges. 

“What?” You frown, “beer, I don’t drink.” 

“Got it, I have near beers you can have. Or I’ll have a beer and you can have ginger ale,” he suggests as he puts a hand up, “whatever you like.” 

You mull his invitation. You gnaw on your lip as you near the corner by your sister’s house. He doesn’t let up, in lockstep with you until you reach the gate. You stop with your hand on the white picket. He stands beside you. 

“Sorry but... why?” 

He scoffs, “I like your style. We have similar music taste. I don’t know. Like I said, I’m bored. Not a lot of people around here are into grunge. Even dudes my age prefer Seger to Cobain.” 

You were never a Nirvana cultist. You appreciate them but you prefer Grohl in his second era. You tap your fingertips on the wooden slat and face him. 

“I don’t know,” you utter and peek back at the house. It might be good to get out but this man is a stranger. Still, look at this place. This is the very picture of affluence. Not like he’s asking you back to some dingy alleyway. “I’d hate to trouble you.” 

“Hah,” he puts his hands on his hips, “I’m the one asking. You think I would if it was trouble? Besides, I see through the monochrome, you’re anything but trouble.” 

You can’t help the slant in your lips. Yep. That’s you. Boring. Dull. Like wallpaper. 

“Marshall,” a rocky growl greets from the front porch. You glance over as Andy emerges, in a yellow short-sleeved button up and khakis.  

“Barber,” Walter answers in a flat tone. 

“Need something?” Andy strides down the paved walkway, between the tulips and daisies your sister fawns over. 

“Not from you,” Walter retorts with a smirk, “talking to her.” 

“And why’s that?” 

You sense the tension. You glance between the men as they stare each other down. You shrink between them, trapped at the gate. 

“Her business, not yours,” Walter scoffs, “no client privilege here, bud, now we’re having a chat.” 

“Outside my house?” Andy sneers 

The other man shakes his head and ignores him, turning his back to the fence, “anyway, six-thirty? I’ll come by to get you for that beer.” 

You can’t find your voice to disagree as you’re choked by thick air, the heat turning stolid in their obvious spite for each other. Walter glances over his shoulder nods at Andy before he turns to stride off. You cough and watch him go. 

The gate jolts out of your grasp as Andy pulls it open from the other side. You let go and falter before you step through. You shy away as he stands, a hand on one hip, the other on the gate door. He swings it shut with a snap. 

“You’re hanging out with Marshall?” He asks. 

“He... asked,” you face him, bouncing indecisively on the walk, “er, Andy, actually, I wanted to talk--” 

“You should tell him to fuck off,” Andy interrupts. 

“Oh?” 

“Trust me. I work with the jackass.” 

“You do?” You wonder. 

“Sometimes. At the precinct,” he sniffs and turns to you, “stubborn asshole.” 

“Right, well, I didn’t... I don’t...” 

“Guess I shouldn’t complain if it gets you out of my hair,” he snorts. 

“Andy, er,” you grab your satchel and unzip the top, “I got my unemployment so... here.” You hold out the envelope of bills. It’s all you have left after paying for your most basic expenses, “for groceries and whatever.” 

“And whatever?” He takes the envelope with a skeptical look, “sure.” 

You stand in silence. You thought he’d have a different reaction. Maybe not elated but maybe a thanks? You don’t know. He hates you, just like everyone else. 

“I’m sorry,” you say, “I... I don’t want to be in the way.” 

“You should’ve told her no. Rhiannon... she’s too nice for her own good. Even to her family and you all just walk all over her.” 

You furrow your brow, “I don’t... I wouldn’t--” 

“Save it,” he rolls his eyes and slips the envelope into his pocket, “that’ll do for one month, but you’ve been here two.” 

“Uh, yeah,” you quaver, breathless. Not good enough. Never good enough. 

“You know, acting pathetic, it’s not endearing. Maybe to Rhi, but not me.” 

“I’m sorry--” 

“Sorry, sorry, sorry,” he taunts, “alright, noted. Have fun with Marshall.” He snickers, “bit of advice, don’t put out after one beer, try to make him work for it. Hell, maybe if he does, you could learn a lesson or two about work.” 

Your eyes sting and you swallow tightly. You turn to step past him and he blocks you with his arm. You back up and look him in the face. Unlike Rhiannon, you can do that. She always looks ridiculous next to him. 

“Or maybe, if you can get some money out of it...” he looks you up and down and you hug yourself defensively. “Ah, nah,” his eyes drift past you, towards the street, “I know that bastard. He’s just tryna get to me.” He laughs darkly and shakes his head, “too bad I don’t give a shit.” He turns his glare back on you, “do me a favour, stay a bit later. I’d like some privacy with my wife.” 

You drop your eyes meekly and nod, “yeah, I’ll try. Sorry, again.” 

He inhales and lets it out heavy. He slowly moves out of your way, “it’s weird,” he says as you move past him, “sometimes, you actually do look like her sister,” he comments as your pace picks up, “like her but not pretty.” 

You continue inside without a response. You don’t know why he has to take it there. Why he can’t just take his win and be happy? Or at least content.

You remember before the wedding, when he found you, told you to stay in the back for photos. You apologised then too, even if he was being mean. It doesn’t matter, you’re always wrong. 

[lyrenminth]

Can I put in a request for something like you take Justin to a party in your hometown to meet up with some of your friends and you all bump into your ex, Justin gets jealous which surprises you so you want to leave to cheer Justin up because this is the first time you’ve seen him act like this

Similar request: I can you maybe write something about Justin being jealous and protective??

Jealous Justin

The fairy lights strung across the patio cast a warm glow on Y/N's face as she laughed, her head thrown back. Justin, drinking a beer a next to her, couldn't stop staring the very handsome guy who was making her laugh, he watched the scene unfold with a growing knot in his stomach. If he remembered correcty that was Demian, one of her exes, so why in the fucking hell she was laughing with him? And why he was standing like a damn idiot without saying anything?

Demian gaze lingered on him in acknowledgment. "She's that funny, uh?" Demian said. Justin wanted to push him so damn hard, instead he forced a smile. "Yeah, she is." The words felt hollow. He hated the way Demian leaned in, invading their personal space.

Justin's arm grabbed Y/N's waist and pulled her closer. She only smiled at him, oblivious of the intentions of the other man. But he knew, Demian wasn't being friendly, he didn't want to remember the good times. He wanted to bring them back.

"How is your wife anyway?" Y/n asked lookig behind Demian, at the crowd maybe looking for his wife. So the bastard was married and flirting with HER? A muscle in Justin's jaw flicked. "Oh, we are divorced. Two years ago actually" Demian informed. Y/N frowned, confused. "But you got along pretty well" he shrugged, like it was nothing. Justin felt her arm around his waist. "Oh, I guess it was for the best" she said, sadly.

"Do you get along?" Demian asked, at Justin. "Yes, he's my best friend" Y/N said instead, and completely unlike him, he leaned in to kiss her softly in her smooth lips. It shock him as much as her, but it was a brief moment. "She's my rock" he simply said, not wanting to prolong the conversation.

Later, while they eat dinner in a table full of people, she nudged him with ther knee. "Are you okay?" she mouthed, feeling something was off with him. His green eyes were stormy, and since he was so angry and jelous he could only nod.

Seeing her with her ex, laughing and making conversation didn't sit him well. It felt...disrespectful. And there was this weird feeling he has never felt before that made his stomach uneasy. Demian was handsome and carried the conversation with others very well. There wasn't any bone of introversion in him. And Justin...he sighed for the third time.

Y/N picking up his mood, and not wanting to stay anymore in the party said her farewells, Justin acting as polite as always too. In their way to the car, she held his hand. "Tell me what is annoying you" she request. Why she could read him so well? He stopped on his tracks and turned to face her. Her beautiful face was enough to damp his temper. This was Y/N, she was clueless most of the time and she was innately friendly even with the assholes and yet. "I didn't like you were talking with your ex who clearly still has something for you" Justin couldn't hide his bitter tone. She furrowed her eyebrows. "I—I don't think he has something for me, but I understand why are you mad. However, you have nothing to worry" she stood on her tip toes and cupped his face. Justin loved when she did that. "I love you Justin, only you" her tone was so ardent he felt it down there. He held her hips, and squeeze her a bit. "I trust you" he said, she beamed, kissing him once again. Justin's neurons melted, and the only thing he could think of was to remind her who he was.

Her husband, her friend, her partner.

Friendly reminder that requests are still OPEN.

[andy-clutterbuck]

[flowerflamestars]

Timeloop au snippet

“What,” Lucien said, face turned into the paltry sunlight, “The hell did you do?”   Like he’d hoped- like he knew Nesta knew that the words were stark admiration- Nesta Archeron threw back her head, and laughed. “Did you know Illyrians have a proud, ancient tradition of epic poetry?”   The book in her hands, bound in lurid pink, was quite clearly a romance novel.   “No,” Lucien admitted, easy, settling in, “But I’m surprised you didn’t.”   One perfect brow arced high, her sharp face sharpened so much further in immortality.   “Are you?” Nesta drawled. “Because Feyre’s Court is so full of treasures?”   Because she’d spent four hundred years learning, it seemed, everything she could possibly get her hands on. “Archeron,” Lucien matched her tone, felt better than he had in days at the way her face brightened to hear it, “I know better than to underestimate you.”   Book shut with a snap, Nesta tossed it to the pile that trailed, following the path Lucien imagined she’d taken over the last few days, from shelf to chair to window. There was no logic to the titles, no unifying genre: atlas’s forming the base for stacked erotica, history books leaning on poetry, magical theory marked with torn ribbon.   “They also,” Nesta recited, moving to sit very properly upright, a society lady giving perfect presentation, “Have surprisingly tender courting traditions.”   Lucien slid further down, chin angled to meet her gaze.   “Least bloody Hybern in twenty lives,” he said, “Hybern lost an arm”-   “All you.”   Lucien could take credit when he wasn’t burning with curiosity. “I’m not in Spring, the Cauldron didn’t break, Elain isn’t catatonic, and Cassian isn’t guardian your door.”   Smug- the expression had no right sitting quite so fucking delightful, on her cruel, perfect mouth- Nesta grinned at him. “I had a lovely affair with a legionnaire.”

[nokingsonlyfooles]

Brigitte Empire needs money, which can be exchanged for goods and services. Turns out, so do a lot of people! Some of them need it to live, and some of them need it to keep their shareholders happy, and some of them need it for blatant self-promotion. Watch the video and try to pick out who's who!

Then, if you feel like it, meet me under the cut for a little more on MARKETING!

All right all you cats and kittens, I got two discount bellinis in me and a silly topic that could still end civilization as we know it if we don't deal with it appropriately. Take my hand, and let me tell you the story of Capitalism figuring out that marginalized people buy things too!

Capitalism exists without the constraints of morality. If people are willing to pay for a thing, you should let them buy it, and jack up the price as much as possible. Regulations that prevent you from selling your child as hamburger meat are not a feature of Capitalism, but a constraint placed upon it by the rest of society. Thus, as soon as there is money to be made, multiple individuals and corporations will try to make as much money as possible. The only political consideration is, "What do I need to SAY I believe to maximize the profits?" It doesn't care about you, it just wants your money. We are all here to be exploited, no matter our various intersections.

Thus, it only fails to market to a specific group if it doesn't seem like that group would buy a specific thing, and/or if the consequences of the marketing would eat into the profits too much. A baby isn't going to buy a Virginia Slim cigarette (babies prefer Marlboros)

...and such a campaign would make mommies and daddies very upset, so they don't run ads with smoking infants in Highlights magazine.

But a funny thing happens when, all of a sudden, someone smacks themself on the forehead and cries, "Oh no! Babies DO buy Virginia Slims!" Or, more plausibly, "Wait! WOMEN BUY CARS!" Nobody has been marketing to that demographic, there is no playbook to follow, and they scramble for a strategy.

Oh, and it is hilarious watching them trying to figure out what a new demographic wants out of their product.

Uhhh... Pinkness and an automatic transmission, you guys? Is that good? Bill, would your wife buy one of these? If you let her, I mean, ha!

Likewise, in Brigitte's early strawberry ad: Uhhh... Glitter! The "tran"s love makeup and glitter! And a relatable, pretty nobody, and donations to worthy causes!

They're still dialing it in. Even poor Dylan up there doesn't seem to have much idea why someone who likes her brand would like a cheap, lite beer. She decided to just be honest and relatable too. "Well, it's nice having my face on a product, and one assumes you drink this while watching a sport...? Ha-ha-ha, this is kinda silly, but I guess they're trying to be nice. Well, anyway, Bud Light exists!"

It's really quite cute. It makes me like HER, but I'm not gonna buy a Bud Light. Likewise, that Gillette commercial was super sweet, but it didn't make me wanna go out and buy a Gillette razor, or anything at all. Conversely, when Goya foods shot their mouth off, I didn't stop buying them. I never started buying them. If they didn't have what I wanted in the store brand, I might have gotten a can or two of Goya, if they were the cheapest. After the beans hit the fan, I quit doing that with no more effort than moving my hand a few inches to one side or the other. No hardship to them and no hardship to me.

Me, and my friends on the left, are not big name-brand fans, or big Capitalism fans. These things are notable as cultural bellwethers - "Ah-ha! Someone did a thing! Now let's see how everyone reacts!" - but not as something we're going to go out of our way to spend money on. We define ourselves by the media we consume much more than the physical products.

The people who market physical products do not know how to handle that. It's kinda freaking them out. That's why we get all those stories about "MILLENNIALS ARE KILLING [THING]!" No, they're just not willing to be ride-or-die with a brand, or even a type. "Hmm, these ciders are all too expensive... How 'bout some box wine?" We don't have the disposable income to be picky, because Capitalism will devour itself for profit as much as anything else.

The throwbacks who are still willing to define themselves via a brand tend to skew right, but they're volatile as hell. Anything that looks like progress or "wokeness" makes them SCREAM. The pundits and politicians like it that way, it keeps them in power - the corporations, not so much. It's getting less and less feasible to be an AMERICAN [or other national identity] brand. There's a culture war in progress - but no matter which side you pick, they will not remain reliable, complacent consumers.

That's why corporate culture is involved in this weird "two steps forward, two steps back" dance. When it's clear who's winning, they'll pick a side. Until then, they're like a bunch a little kids at a party who really want to pick up the pinata candy, except the kid with the blindfold is still staggering around swinging the stick. Meanwhile, the leftists are busy looking for hot dogs in the trash, and the conservatives are screaming, pointing, and throwing more candy on the ground, so they can demonstrate how much they hate the latest evil product.

That last one doesn't make any damn sense, right? Boycotts are rarely effective, and buying more of a thing is not even a boycott. Bud Light will take your money whether you love their beer or hate it. You can throw it at a cop if you want, they just want your money.

Guess what? So do the conservatives. Also, your attention and your validation. That's why they're yelling so loud. All of us need to be heard and seen. All of us perform to show others who we are on the inside. When you film yourself performing and post on social media, though, you can make actual cash. Build enough of a following for your content and Bud Light will show up on your doorstep and offer to put your face on a can!

You're reading this on Tumblr right now, you are at least somewhat aware of how algorithms serve up content, and that the search function will serve you more engagement if you're doing something popular. I already know this post is gonna crash and burn, too, 'cos I don't have a lot of followers and it doesn't involve a fandom. Maybe later the Tumblr goblins will find it and like it, but not for a long while. If I wanted clicks (and I do) I'd give you something on Guardians of the Galaxy, or Spiderverse, or more Kung Fu Panda. If I were branding myself as a conservative gun nut, I'd get a lot of eyeballs on me if I bought a case of Bud and assassinated it right now. I don't want those eyeballs, but some folks sure do.

It's exploitation all the way down and we shouldn't be surprised. People need money to live, and if they have a little extra, they can have fun with it. Bud Light hires themself a trans spokesperson, as an investment, and she needs the money so she does an ad for the beer, and herself. Conservative culture warriors launch themselves at this latest target, every one of them also doing an ad - for themselves and their entertaining and justified outrage. And the platforms that host them rake in engagement from both sides, and more money. All that commerce, all that profit, all that potential, springs from the body of one trans influencer who likes to purchase goods and services - as one does.

In this instance, the beer people freaked out and spent a lot more money taking two steps back. It ain't always gonna be like that - and the next folks who want money from the trans demographic will have some valuable marketing data for the future - but we'll have to wait and see.

Now, I did say this was a silly topic that could end civilization as we know it if we don't handle it right, so picture some scary music right here. There is a market for grinning white faces who shoot guns at "wokeness," and the people with grinning white faces and guns know that, as do the platforms that host them. They make money for the platform and the platform makes money for them. Without intervention, this is a closed circle that only requires a new, popular thing to be mad about, and they can manufacture those at will. Violence and outrage are becoming a commodity, and people are already buying it.

It's popular to be mad at trans folks right now, but "woke" can be anything. They do not actually care what they are mad about, or what anyone who consumes their content does with that anger, they just want your money (clicks, attention, data, etc). Say what you will of the stochastic terrorism of the past, at least it had a political agenda. A privileged politician isn't going to turn on you nearly as fast as a social-media-climber looking for clout. Do you think you're stealth, invisible, acceptable? Do you wanna find out what happens if suddenly you're not?

Regulation and deplatforming are the only way to keep the outrage machine from eating up real human lives. But we are not asking sociologists or internet scholars or anyone who might have a clue to regulate anything. Regulation is something politicians do, and I wouldn't trust any of 'em to set up a wireless printer. As for deplatforming, for now, that's in the hands of the platforms, and they just want your money.

I'm just talking about one potential brand of annihilation, here. Capitalism will sell us everything we need to destroy ourselves, for as high a price as the market will bear. It doesn't care.

If we want it to stop, we have to care enough to apply the brakes. Ai-yi-yi, but I know we've already been trying, and we're not getting much traction.

Better get yourself one o' them pink cars with the automatic transmission, and buckle in.

[coffee-bat]

sorry for the vent guys im normal again

[there-will-be-a-way]

Thinking about who I really want to be in my life - and who makes an effort to keep me in theirs. Thinking about how, during our Sunday evening family gathering, no one asked me how I've been. Maybe they're just tired of my bullshit, is what I thought. But if someone close to me came back from detox, I would ask them how they're doing. No matter how many times it's been. Because I care.

Thinking about how during the last three months, it's always been me to ask my sister to hang out. Maybe this week I won't ask and see what happens. Thinking about how during the time I lived in a different city, it was always me who drove the long way (and payed a shit ton for the bus tickets even though I'm piss poor) to visit my family. Thinking about how when I invited my parents over for cake and coffee, they forgot and I stood there with the cake I baked and no one but my aunt and me to eat it.

Thinking about how people who have known me for a couple of weeks have a better idea of who I am than the ones who've known me my whole life.

Future roommate takes moving to a different state into consideration. If it weren't for the good friends I have here (and my professional support system), I would fuck off.

I'm tired.