#i dont know what a market share is

[storm-driver]

i'm rewatching a bunch of the kh3 promotional trailers bc i'm trying to document how the advertising team for KH sorta sucks and it's what led to an overall negative reception for kh3's release (not hating kh3, just making observations on how it was marketed).

and i've discovered something.

i somehow missed the re:mind trailer that showed off yozora and the whole secret boss ending, as well as the guardians of light fight entirely, and that actually made me enjoy re:mind way more than i would've.

i was someone that watched every single kh3 trailer leading up to release, and to say i was expecting the stuff going on in the base game was an understatement. i actually predicted and theorised on a lot of stuff that happened based solely on the trailers we had gotten, and i was right in a lot of it. replicas being important, xion being the last vessel they needed, lingering will being connected to namine.

and at the time, i was a little underwhelmed by the release, despite enjoying it a lot. however, the game loses the luster if you already know where it's going to go, and the trailers fed people so much that by the time you got to the actual game, you just had to make your own hype be the fuel for enjoying it.

however, because i had only watched a single re:mind trailer, and i only saw portions of it, i didn't know what was gonna happen at all. i knew roxas was playable, but that was really it. maybe i saw scala, nothing else. nothing that made me ballistic like the kh3 trailer's did.

unironically, not watching the trailers and letting the game present itself to me organically without the pre-establishing influence of marketing made it so much more enjoyable.

it's kinda remarkable.

[ghostedglitch]

me & @anaglyph-micromys eschewing our duties (they delayed their own stream to watch another)

scribbled december 27, 2023

[variousqueerthings]

Hey, Im the anon who asked about the “sex as a social construct” post yesterday, and i just wanted to thank you for your very thorough and informative response! Definitely helped me understand what you and others were talking about. I think a lot of people wouldve assumed bad intentions (even tho im trans lol) with my question so i really do appreciate you not only taking the time to answer but explaining it so well! :)

heya, you're all good. tbh unless someone is saying something actively mean, I always assume good intentions. tone is already so hard to read irl, if I started assuming the worst of people online I'd never chat with anyone

little ramble incoming: it's a big subject, and I just scratched the surface -- and not just in that ask, but as someone who's also on the journey of thinking more broadly about how we define worth and segregate one another in material ways that try to get to the heart of some of our flawed ways of thinking that create these structures in the first place

I'm fundamentally an idealist and optimist, albeit in a longterm sort of way. I think we can shift things for the better a bit within our lifetime and hopefully leave good signposts for the generations to come to continue the work, and the fact that we're having these conversations (wherever they're happening) shows that we're trying to broaden our understanding. the next step is of course how do we turn that understanding into material change, but there, too, from what I've read, there's been good progress

so to go back to that ask. it's naming something that I'm not sure if we were as able to name at one point (although perhaps someone understood this already 100 years ago, it's not unlikely. I always think about dr james barry in the early-to-mid 1800s going "hey, if people don't suffer from poverty and starvation and violence, then they won't get sick so much. worth thinking about") -- and now we have the naming, we can poke at it more and perceive how it affects the way humans build systems

[redrockbutch]

I hate that I finally have the mental fortitude to want to share art but not enough to sort out glazing everything I put online, so I just send it individually to 20 people on discord

[the-chattering-tower]

Poking my pirate ship setting again in ways that aren't all that productive but at least resulted in some outfits, namely for Captain Whitestone, his partner Delian (who holds no specific rank besides being an all around fun dude), and one of the crew members, Nutmeg

[ladysophiebeckett]

if i were to give my opinion on reselling i would be cancelled. 

[neil-gaiman]

Hi Neil

Do you think its possible to get recognition as an artist (of any kind, singer/songwriter, author, painter, video game creator) without also being good at marketing and social media?

It feels like these days, success and recognition is all dependent on how present you are, constantly advertising a product even if you aren’t selling it.

I just wish I could be one of those people who publicize a hit game or hit book and dont interact online and comment on anything but people still see it and like it — because I just want to share my creations but with appreciation for it.

I know its “make art for yourself!” Which I do, but I want the art I make for myself to also make others happy and connect with my work. I just feel intimidated and uncomfortable by Big Social Media and Algorithms and Following Trends etc.

Then just make the art and don’t worry about it. I used to do Twitter because I loved doing Twitter. I’m only here on Tumblr because I enjoy being on Tumblr. I’m around a bit on Bluesky because the people seem nice.

Mostly what I miss are the online communities that existed when I was young, none of which were about advertising product and all of which were about connecting with like-minded others. I miss CompuServe and GEnie in particular.

I think the age of Social Media as advertising feels like it’s drawing to a close.

[angelicblondie]

footballplayer!rafe x wag!reader (MDNI)

note: i dont know a lot about football so some details about that might be wrong!!

it was safe to say that your life had drastically changed over the last year.

before you met rafe, you were simply a girl working a marketing 9 to 5, with a fairly boring life. you had dinner with you parents once a month, went to work every day, you had nights out with you friends on the weekends- your life was just like any other girl approaching her mid 20s.

however, over a year ago, you were at a bar on a saturday night with a couple of your girlfriends, just trying to let loose from the week. you were only a couple shots in when you spotted the handsome stranger eyeing you from afar, and you were immediately filled with intrigue. rafe felt himself being magnetically pulled to your direction, sauntering over to where you stood with your friends by the bar.

he approached you with his sickly charming smile, wooing you instantly. the two of you got to talking and if you were honest, you were smitten instantly. about 5 minutes into the conversation you realized who you were talking to - rafe cameron, the new startup qb for your cities team. you weren't a huge football fan, but you'd have to be living under a rock not to know who rafe freaking cameron was. he had become a huge deal in the past months, reasons ranging from his killer wrist to his deadly looks.

you had seen girls thirsting over him on social media and you couldnt help but agree - the guy was smoking hot, even more so in person, making you honestly a little surprised he was even talking to you.

you look a sip of your drink, eyeing him thoughtfully. "so, whats a hot shot like you doing in this dump?" you ask, your voice teasing yet soft.

rafe let out a chuckle. "I could ask you the same question. dont you gotta boyfriend at home or somethin'?" he asked experimentally, awaiting you answer with the tilt of his head.

you bit your lip, catching his drift. "no boyfriend," you reply, twirling the straw in your drink. "how 'bout you? no groupie chasing after you?"

rafe poked his tongue into his cheek with a smile, shaking his head. "nah, on my own at the moment."

you hum, nodding along to his words before wrapping your lips around your straw, locking into his eyes as you sucked the liquid out of your glass.

thats how you ended up on his bed later that night, letting him pound into you as you screamed into his pillow - truly the best sex you had ever had at that point.

whilst your sexual chemistry was undeniable, so was your romantic chemistry. the two of you flowed into conversation easily, and could feel the early excitement of your new situation.

you spent the whole week at rafes house - only leaving his side for work, and him for training. the two of you showered in the morning, made or ordered in meals for dinner, and talked late into the night, about anything and everything (and of course, had sex. lots and lots of it). you got to know rafe, from his early childhood, to embarrassing high school stories, crazy college encounters, and all about his love for football. and rafe got to know you too, since you found yourself uncontrollably sharing things you had never uttered to another soul, wondering why it was you felt so connected to him - why you trusted and liked him so much already.

at the end of the week though, it was time for you and rafe to part ways, since the football season had started, causing rafe to need to travel.

you were inexplicably crushed, wondering if your time together had run its course, and if it was time to say bye forever - only remembering each other by the perfect week, and nothing more.

luckilly though, that wasnt the case - you and rafe just couldn't stay away from each other. he called you every night, as long as he could. you watched his games on the tv in your living room, texting him after each time to congratulate or console him, depending on the outcome. you even brushed up on your football knowledge, wanting to be more useful in conversations about the topic and to understand what was going on in the games.

your friends were of course happy for you, but also perplexed. you had just met the guy, and you two were already acting like a married couple. but once you formally introduced him to them, they understood.

the two of you just simply had a special connection, and admired each other so much. it was like you skipped all the awkward first dates and base line questions, and just jumped right into the good stuff - and it was (and still is) perfect.

that how you got here - a year after the two of you made it official only 2 month into knowing each other - in a stadium in sunny california.

your boyfriend was playing against the LA team, and you were seated in a box with the other friends and family of the players, sitting next to rafes dad and step-mom, as well as his sister sarah.

you and sarah had wine glasses in your hands as you sat in the first row, sunglasses covering you eyes as you waited for the game to start. you saw the occasional phone camera pointed your way, and you gave a small smile a wave.

you had definitely received more attention since you and rafe began your relationship - people had flooded you social media accounts with both love and hate, and had began to treat you as if you were some celebrity, which was strange, since you were just some girlfriend of a football player.

a very popular football player, but still.

with you new platform, you were able to post the cutest pics of rafe and you, (and some very hot pics of him alone), and also make a bit of money from it. you still worked in marketing, but had decided to mostly work online and remotely, making it easier to travel with rafe when needed.

a big topic of conversation between the two of you when you started dating was how you would approach that part of your relationhip - balancing your individual lives to meet in the middle.

you had made it clear that you wanted to be your own person, aside from being his girlfriend. although rafe could certainly provide for the two of you, for now, you quite liked relying on yourself for your pay, and you liked the independence that came with it. of course, rafe was supportive of this decision, but made it clear that this wouldn't stop him from spoiling you with any presents and treats that he could think of - only the very best treatment for his girl.

that being said, you still wanted to see him as much as possible, and since your job offered flexibility, you decided to take the opportunity to be able to move with him when needed and continue to work for yourself.

the game was an important one - it was the game that decided whether or not the boys would make it to the superbowl.

rafe had been jittery the whole day before, pacing around in your hotel room and cracking every bone in his body. you had tried to get him to relax, but his mind was running wild.

he kept trying to find something to do. for example, he spent a whole 3 hours in the hotel gym, working out to prepare himself. you gently scolded him once he returned though, worrying it would only make him sore.

you then ran him a bath, hopping in as well so you could try to ease his nerves.

you made the environment as relaxing as possible, lighting some candles and incense, filling the bath with bubbles and lavender essential oils, soft jazz playing in the background.

you sat behind rafe, softly massaging his back to relieve the obvious tension. you whispered reassurances in his ear, wanting him to go into the game with confidence in his abilities, and a clear head.

"the only way your going to win tomorrow is if your thinking of what your doing in the moment, not the past, and certainly not the future. you have to be present and open minded, not driven by emotions or fear," you had reminded him softly, turning him around so he could look into your eyes.

rafe nodded, a serious yet tired look on his face. he worked so hard, and he was so good at what he did. you wanted this so badly for him, but knew that the only way he would play his best tommorw was if he got out of his head.

"i know, baby. you know how i get like," rafe murmured, bringing you onto his lap and tucking his face into your neck, prompting you to wrap your arms around his neck and run your fingers through his wet hair.

"if its any consolation, I'll be proud of you no matter what. you've worked so so hard this season, and everyone sees it. I truly cant think of someone more deserving of this than you, babe," you reassure, trying to make you voice as soothing as possible.

you meant your words of course, but you really did want him to win. you knew how competitive he could be, and like him, so were you.

so once the game started, you removed the sunglasses off your head and into you purse, sitting down and taking a long sip of wine.

it was a long game, rafe team managing to get the first touchdown, causing your section to jump up into the air and celebrate. the screen had shifted to your boxes reaction, zooming in on you and sarah hugging and jumping up and down in excitement, cheering louder than anyone else there.

rafe had looked up, trying not to get too excited and keep his head in the game, but seeing you jump around so happily for him caused him to break out into a large smile, blowing a large kiss your way before running to his groups huddle.

the game got a bit rough after that, the other team getting 2 touchdowns causing you to wince each time, taking long sips of you drink. any time rafe looked in your direction you sent him a proud smile regardless, wanting to keep his spirts and hopes high.

by the 4th quarter, the other team had 4 points on you guys, meaning all you needed to win was just one touchdown.

with about 5 minutes left, the two teams on the field hadn't managed to score any points, and you were starting to worry. rafe, as quarterback, was talking to the coach of his team with a serious expression nodding along to his words before running over to his team. using his hands a bit, he explained the play, looking at each of their faces to make sure they understood the plan.

once it started, you and sarah were squeezing eachother hands tightly, muttering words of encouragement as your eyes glued to the field. you could hear the voice of ward narrating to rose, explaining what he thought the play would be and what would be the smartest option. you wanted to role your eyes at his condescending tone, but decided against it, focussing your attention on the game.

you watched in focus as rafe threw the ball back to one of his teammates, and they passed the ball to another. you lost sight of the ball whilst keeping your eyes on rafe (a constant tendency), and before you knew it, you turned your head to see one of his teammates run across the end zone and hold the ball up high, celebrating his victory.

you all immediately jumped up, cheering in celebration. you face broke out into the biggest grin as you watched rafe and all of his team mates pile on top of each other on the field.

the game still had about 4 minutes left, but it didnt matter, because luckily, the other team didnt manage another touchdown, meaning rafe and his team were going into the super bowl.

you and rafes family met him out back of the stadium, instantly hugging and congratulating him. you of course held on extra long, kissing his face all over casting a red hue on his cheeks.

before going out to dinner all together, you and rafe went to congratulate other members of his team and some of his friends, talking for a bit about the events of the game.

during dinner you sat close to rafe, his hand on your thigh as you leaned on his shoulder, enjoying the high of his victory and chatting casually with his family. eventually you two parted from the other, walking the short distance back to your hotel and luckily not getting recognized.

the minute you stepped into the room you were on rafe, holding his face as you pushed your lips onto his, as he grabbed your hips in mild shock. once it wore off, he took control of the kiss, walking backwards to the bed. once his knees met the corner and he fell back, you straddle his waist, waisting no time to lift the shirt of his body, revealing his toned figure underneath.

soon the two of you were a mix of sweaty bodies under the sheets, writhing in pleasure and letting out muffled noises. rafe had you underneath him, arching your back off the sheets and letting out little whimpers, too embarrassed to be loud, fearing the thin walls of the hotel.

"let it out, baby, I want to hear you," rafe coaxed.

you whine, grabbing his tone biceps. "cant, rafe. people'll hear"

rafe laughed a bit sadistically, squeezing your waist and pounding into you hard. "don't care. want everyone t'hear how good m'making y'feel. c'mon, you can let it out, I know y'can."

you moaned a little louder this time, cursing loudly whilst you screamed. "fuck, please, rafe, m'so close."

rafe placed one of his hands on your lower stomach and watched as he pressed down, earning a high pitched gasp and moan from you, throwing your head back against the pillows.

rafe tilted his head up to look at you and his lips tilted upwards. "yeah? can y'feel me? right here in your tummy?"

you nod wordlessly, your body squirming in pure pleasure. "please, rafe, I need t'come."

rafe continued his pace, groaning gutturally as he approached his own high. "fuck, go ahead baby."

your walls clenched around his dick, and rafe watched, tranfixed as the white ringlet appeared near the base of his cock, becoming more and more definded every time he slowly moved in and out of you. the view made his reach his own organsm, cumming into the condowm as he threw his head back, his stomach clenching as he released.

the two of you spent the rest of the night cuddled in bed, watching a movie and snacking on the room service you had delivered. and you truly couldn't ask for a better way to celebrate your boyfriends accomplishment.

[licensedproldier]

highlights from the brennan hank interview (aka taking notes on things that i liked or didn't know)

HE STARTED ATTENDING COLLEGE WHEN HE WAS 14?????

immediate jump off topic from hank to ask him about d20 (this happened while fhjy was airing)

"and the greatest project of all, my wonderful family with my wife isabella roland"

bonding over their children

brennan and hank's son both corrected their father's bedtime stories 💀

many elaine lee shoutouts

"his dad met my mom and fell in love" "you did that" "we did that, parent-trapped them"

was pulled out of school in 4th grade for homeschooling because the bullying was so bad....

started a company when they (he and his brother) were fifteen?? called Bootleg Adventures

hank's little awed hiss of "what" to the above piece of information

GOT PART OWNERSHIP OF THE WAYFINDER COMPANY AT 15

"knowledge is something that, when you share it, there's just more. there's no scarcity"

hank staring off into space slightly looking like brennan just blew his mind (we're 11 minutes in)

"we were 14 year old philosophy majors, if you can imagine anything more normal than that"

brennan unable to resist doing fun voices for the people he talks about

he wouldve loved to work at wayfinder full time and said back then hey maybe ill become a famous internet comedian or something and that's how i can help camp. now he's got texts from the staff saying how a bunch of dimension 20 fans have joined and its been a huge boon for them that way 🥺

"it's funny when a really bad plan works. dont make that plan."

"every new community-- is this too sad? no its true" THOSE THINGS ARE NOT MUTUALLY EXCLUSIVE

anyway "for every new community i start with the presupposition that someone is going to pick me up and put me in the trash can" 😭

hank sniping him through the duplex door with "[when you do that] you kind of imagine yourself to be the value you're delivering rather than yourself, or that your value is in what you deliver and not who you are" and brennan going 😐 "that's a great point man"

both of them turning to do pained smiles at the camera 😭

"i think the value is in who you are" "that's really sweet i appreciate that" "but i also love that you deliver"

brennan quoting mary oliver

im starting to feel a little called out guys

robert mckee "stories are not about their premises they're about their conclusions"

brennan also staring off into space slightly thinking about what hank said

the REAL college advice brennan is giving is reportedly "put an egg in your ramen" because thats how you stop your eyes from going "matte finish"

shoutout to vanessa's dumplings for keeping this man alive

"i am ozymandias nerd of nerds, gaze upon my banner and despair"

the moment he felt like something changed was walking into C2E2 and seeing that the biggest hanging banner in the convention hall was of fantasy high. or, as brennan put it, "my dumb face"

"my friends moved in with their partners, the apartment i had with them scattered to the wind, the woman i was dating dumped me after three weeks, and i won a bunch of money on Who Wants to Be a Millionare" "wh- what???"

he taught emily, murph, siobhan, and zac how to play dnd 🥺 and was running a home game for lou at the same time

got hired at um, actually because his name was getting around for being a big dork

zac stepped down from troopers and sam liked brennan's character from a previous casting call (tim curry eating pizza) so he brought him in

its very charming the detail with which brennan remembers these important moments in his life

became a full time cast member in the same week he started dating izzy! "hard to beat week gang!"

"they told us they were launching dropout and everyone had to make a show, which, if you're been trying to make a show your whole life, that's like saying 'bad news guys, there's 24 birthday cakes in the break room and everyone has to eat a whole birthday cake'."

brennan was making a document for a market pitch on an actual-play show when he was called into office and THEY pitched HIM the idea of an actual-play show

"i guess i have tumbled through life to end up here ready to do this"

truly like. one of the guys of all time.

"some of the things that didn't make sense about you make more sense now" hank talking indirectly about how amazing he found all the moving parts of mentopolis and now getting to hear about how long and how many time he's done storytelling it makes sense

"yeah its the one skill"

"i wanted to tell stories before i was anything else"

🎉anti-capitalist rant🎉

"people used to say 'is ucb a cult' and i'd say 'in a cult, somebody is making money'"

HIGH FIVE!!!

[bulbabutt]

i think its weird that arcee is like. a core member of transformers groups now, cuz it makes her stick out like a sore thumb being the token girl when at the time she wasnt exactly supposed to be? she was part of the second generation of characters (even though I know the movie was being made first)

like it seems like modern stuff tries to do this with her

which just shows off how much that design doesnt fit and comes off like it was made to be "i am THE girl. you need no more girls we have made the one girl”

but when she was actually designed to match the movie crew, a bunch of more futuristic (the far off year of 2005) cybertronian vehicle transformers with her rounded shapes and pastel colours and she isnt even the only pink one because hot rod is also pink, albeit a much darker pink

(leaving ultra magnus out cuz he was designed to be a brick holding optimus doesnt count)

the point like yeah shes still the only girl but its less egregious when you look at what she was actually supposed to match. i dont think shes designed perfectly but i think its weird that because shes the most recognizable girl transformer she has to be pulled away from her crew and forced into a group she doesnt share the design philosophy of (let alone for her character its sad like... are those not her friends? she’s not allowed to hang out with her own friends anymore cuz she’s the only girl who’s marketable? sad)

it’s extra weird when you realize there’s this crew who were the original girl transformers shown on screen

they’re not perfect either but I like that they have the same busy more squared off shapes and more strong colours, and I just think if they got added in arcees place you could have a less skewed view gender binary for the robots

there’s also the part where it would be cool to have more than one girl in a group, but again arcee with her iconic leia space buns head fits in aesthetically better with the movie crew

[3liza]

tumblr live should not be this mysterious

the plug-n-play streaming package that Tumblr installed as "Tumblr Live" is a white label product from a company called Livebox (developed by the Meet Group, subsidary of Parshipmeet), who have a homepage riddled with spelling errors and purport to operate the dating apps Meet Me (formerly My Yearbook), Skout, Tagged, and Growlr, all of which appear to be identical except for Growlr, which is specifically for gay men. all of them are just dating apps with a livestreaming feature. i would venture a guess based on the architecture that Livebox is also powering Superlive, which is the only one of these I have any experience with. it's popular with camgirls outside of the USA, especially in countries where full nude camming is illegal.

i don't really understand what livestreaming has to do with dating apps and don't know anyone who uses these platforms for anything. i assume some of it is just sex work, some of it is just ad space, lots of data brokering, and judging by the performance issues the users complain about, possibly crypto mining(???).

looking through the app pages on the Play store shows the same reviews for every single one of them: app crashes constantly, bans are arbitrary, support is no help, the apps drain your phone battery suspiciously quickly, and there are about 20 bots for every real person profile. i dont know what the exact dates are because i cant see site analytics and dont know what the Live development schedule was, but it's interesting that the sudden increase in porn bot activity on tumblr seems to roughly overlap with the Tumblr Live development and implementation, at least from a tumblr user perspective.

i dont know where the strangers in the Tumblr Live bar are streaming from, in terms of what you would consider their "home network". im guessing, but it really looks to me like they are streaming on whatever familiar platform they've got an audience on, and then being split-streamed to Tumblr. i've been meaning to sit in one of the popular streams and check usernames of audiencemembers, because my guess is that most of the audience are not going to have accounts here either. many of the streamers ive checked do not have tumblr accounts. some of them have tumblr accounts, but most of those accounts appear perfunctory: only a few months old, completely impersonal reblogs from the trending tab (you know the type), instagram-type language and general aspirational influencer stuff, which absolutely does not exist on tumblr organically because this site does not have market share for sponsored products OR a userbase with disposable income, it's a waste of time for an instagram model type to post here.

i've tried to talk to these streamers once or twice about this stuff but didn't get anywhere, and it would be rude to press the issue. but that is probably the next step.

[stylespresleyhearted]

POV: YOU’RE DATING CALLUM TURNER

or the one where i pretend i am Callum’s girlfriend (and also tagging @precious-little-scoundrel on this bc I GOTTA)

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tmznews Callum Turner spotted with a mystery girl! Is the new heartthrob off the market? Link in bio for everything TMZ has on his new gal.

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user23 the invasion of privacy … yikes

user12 What does it say about me if I read the article because tbh I’m curious

fan12 don’t do it, lets respect their privacy

callumupdates Don’t give TMZ any clicks. Look at the horrible quality of the photos, they obviously weren’t supposed to obtain these. Callum will share when he is ready.

yourfriendsig At least she’s pretty 😍

yourinstagram stopppp haha

liked by rafflaw, anthonyboyle, and others

yourinstagram soft launching my man bc he’s hot and i love him ❣️ (oh yeah and tmz exposed us)

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fan12 GIRL THIS IS A HARD LAUNCH NOTHING SOFT ABOUT IT!!!!

user41 crrrryingggg omg iconic

user23 lol attention seeker

yourfriendsig It took me three years to be IG official with you, why does he get special treatment 😒

yourusername take a guess 😉

keoghan92 @tmznews you suck

liked by fan12 and 63917 others

deuxmoi Spotted: Callum Turner and his girlfriend at a pub in downtown London. Looks like no more hiding for this couple. Sources tell me they’re in love and don’t care who knows it.

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fan12 wahhh they’re so cute

user23 i’m so jealous but i also ship it so hard

fan41 my friend saw them making out at a diner last week lmao she said they were eating each other not the food

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yourinstagram so proud and moved to tears ♥️ the entire cast and crew did a great job honoring these brave men

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fan12 we love a supportive gf

fan41 what a great picture fr

user23 I met y/n at the event tonight and she was the sweetest, most HILARIOUS person its easy to see why Callum is in love with her ❤️

liked by yourinstagram, rafflaw, and 78912 others

anthonyboyle One Direction

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user97 OMGGG they’re so hot wtf

yourinstagram more like Wrong Direction

keoghan92 you think you’re funny huh

yourinstagram Callum finds me funny 🥲

rafflaw he’s biased he’s in love with u

fan91 cryingg she’s a part of the mota fam 💍🥹

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yourinstagram hi movie star ♥️ i love you - your biggest fan

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rafflaw 💍💍💍👀

yourfriendsig @rafflaw LMAO DONT START THE RUMORS

appletv Mr & Mrs Egan spin off?

keoghan92 sappy

yourinstagram @sabrinacarpenter

liked by yourinstagram and 639 others

yourfriendsig good times

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user91 … the hand on her ass … making out … CALLUM TURNER I KNOW WHAT YOU ARE

yourinstagram why would you post this when you know im missing him 🥺

yourinstagram brb omw to ft him

fan23 i love the way y/n loves him she isn’t afraid to be a normal girlfriend

liked by anthonyboyle, keoghan92, austinbutler, and 941633 others

yourinstagram social media making fun of me for this but if he was your man you’d get it 😌 i say that’s my baby and i’m proud ♥️♥️

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fan12 if i didn’t see my bf for a week i’d react the same way people need to mind their business

yourinstagram it was only three days but yes your point still stands 😆

yourfriendsig y/n you’re an icon

fan92 i love them so fucking much pls adopt me

yourinstagram okay! ♥️

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yourinstagram someone tell y/n not to leave her phone unlocked 🤣🤣🥳 - anthony & barry here!

edit: got my phone back. can’t bring myself to delete my boyfriend looks so cute. i guess barry and anthony look okay.

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fan23 LMAO PLS HOW DID THEY STEAL HER PHONE !!!😂😂CALLUM TAKE IT BACK!

yourinstagram he was supposed to hold it for me it didn’t fit in my clutch and he sided w the enemies 🥺

anthonyboyle New profile picture?

yourinstagram i’ll kill you

yourinstagram also i think it’s important for everyone to know @keoghan92 stuck his hand down my boyfriends pants pocket to get my phone

keoghan92 and i liked it

anthonyboyle 😂😂😂

—

The End

Ahhhhhh making this was so much fun!!! Y/N is a bit shameless in her adoration for her man but that’s the point!!! I’d be the same if he was mine (I mean look at Vanessa Kirby and Dua Lipa lmao)

Marina this is for us because this man deserves our love we’d make him so happy 🙌🏼

It was supposed to be silly and funny so don’t give me shit obviously celeb relationships would be a lot more private. And for bonus fun check this out ⬇️

[luna0713hunter]

I'm in love with your fics.

Do you have a Masterlist somewhere? 😎

Also, could I request something about Shanks x reader? Maybe a fight (with swords and everything) where Shanks save/protects reader and then full fluff at the aftermath? 💖 Shanks is my everything! 💕💕💕💕

Thank youuu!

Author's note : awww thank you! And yes!!!i just updates my master list!!its in my pinned message,and you can also search "masterlist"!! So understandable,Shanks is one of my favorites as well :))) i hope you like it!!enjoy~

Take my breath away

Shanks x reader

Warnings : none really, typical fighting and slight injuries,mention of Shank's lost arm,fluff fluff fluff,and ofc hurt/comfort ,pet names

*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘

When your back hits the ground,hard,you wonder how things ended up like this.

It was a typical day;the morning starting out when Benn spotted the land,then all of you going to the market to restore food and drinks (mostly booz) and any weapons needed.

It was a typical,calm day. Until it wasn't.

You were so close to your ship when another crew of pirates attacked you.

That's how you ended up on the ground, groaning as the pirate you were fighting with kicks you in the ribs. The action has you letting out a small yell while trying to get up and fight back,but the next kick to you temple has your eyesight darkening as everything starts to blur.

You dont lose consciousness,but you're close to it. So when you hear a distant shout of your name you think you might be hallucinating. But the arm around your shoulders and almost rough shaking of your body feels very much real.

So you squeeze your eyes shut and let out another pained groan before opening them once again.

Everything is a little fuzzy at the edge,but you manage to finally keep your focus on your savior.

Red hair is the first thing that gets your attention.

"Shanks?"

You internally cringe at how horse your voice sounds.

"Yeah baby girl,its me," the arm around you tightens as Shanks pulls you closer to his chest, "can you keep those pretty eyes open for me, princess?"

Oh, you think,when did you close them?

"It hurts."

"i know, I'm sorry my love."

"I'm sleepy too."

"you can sleep all you want once the medic takes a good look at you." His lips press to your forehead so gently that you close your eyes again. Shanks taps your cheek with his finger and smiles softly when you meet his eyes with your glazed over ones, "dont sleep yet,Baby girl."

You whine and rub your face in his neck,making him chuckle slightly.

"but I'm tiredddd."

"tell you what," his voice is so calming that it eases the pang behind your eyes slightly, "if you manage to stay awake by the time the medic comes, I'll reward you with anything you want."

At the offer,you perk up and look at him with gleaming eyes.

"promise?"

"promise."

So you try your hardest to stay awake,and by the time the medic finishes checking on you and tells you that you can rest,you immediately fall asleep in Shank's arm.

✧

You wake up to fingers carding through your hair and caressing your bruised cheek.

The mere action of opening your eyes take lot of effort,but when you finally do it, you're met with your Captain's concerned gaze.

When Shanks notices your eyes on him,he immediately bends over you and rests his hand on your forehead.

"Angel,baby girl,can you hear me?"

You give him a slight nod and upon opening your mouth to speak,you burst into series of dry coughs. Shanks rushes to pour you a glass of water and after helping you sit up and rest your back against his chest,he helps you drink it.

When your throat is once again working,you rest your head on his shoulder tiredly and look around; you're in your shared room with Shanks,which immediately makes you relax further.

"how's everybody?"

"the guys are fine. You should worry about yourself. You were the most beat up of us all."

You groan and throw your head back, "this is so embarrassing," you mumble, "cant believe i was so careless."

"what're you talking about," Shanks takes hold of your chin and turns your head so he can look at you while raising his brows, "have you perhaps forgotten i came back from a fight single handed?"

You frown, "thats different!!you were fighting a giant sea monster!"

"its not different at all. Its a battle;and getting hurt is absolutely normal." His expression softens as his fingers trace your bandaged cheek, "not that it makes it any easier to see you like this." He gently presses his lips to your forehead and murmurs a soft apology.

"not your fault. Dont ever apologize" You caress his cheek and suddenly give him a devilish grin, "so,i was promised a reward if i recall correctly?"

Shanks chuckles and presses his lips to yours softly.

"anything you want."

And when you laugh and pull him down to kiss him breathless, he's sure he's going to regret promising you that.

[sofiepofie20]

thinking about survivor!kei and zombie!reader in a zombie apocalypse. u were a special case of a zombie, who had not lost its consciousness to the fungus. u ended up losing all ur friends and family in the apocalypse, wandering around alone for a long time.

since u refused to eat humans, u looked for food in the markets of the cities u passed by, and thats when u first saw him.

Kei was looking for supplies when he suddenly heard the bell in the market's front door ring. he quickly crouched behind the shelf and looked at the door. his eyes windened when he saw a zombie coming in, you.

he was even more shocked when u started looking through the shelves and freezers, looking for food. u were humming a song, and acting like a human. talking to yourself as u walked through the market.

“Seriously? the only thing left here is bread???” u talked to yourself, sighing in annoyance. “the good food in this city seems to have all been looted.” u took a bite of the bread.

when u where chewing on ur bread, suddenly, someone sneaked behind u and held a knife against ur neck.

“hold still...” u heard a boy's voice behind u. ur heart beat faster in despair, and the bread u were holding fell to the floor. “what the fuck are u?” the boy asked.

u gulped down the bread, feeling ur heart pound in ur chest, begging for ur life. “I... im a zombie, but... i still have consciousness. i don't eat humans. i swear.”

The boy's eyes windened when he heard ur explanation. He sighed and pinned u against the wall, tying ur hands. ur eyes windened in fear. “A-ah, wait, what are u doing?! i wont hurt u, i promise! let me go, now!!” you shouted, and he noticed the desperation in ur voice.

“Calm down and stop shouting, u will attract them here.” he ordered with a stern, firm voice. “i don't know what or who the fuck u are, but u still look like a zombie. i won't take any risks.”

the blond boy tied u up and pinned u against the market pillar. he sat at a safe distance from u and stared at u with those menacing eyes.

It took Kei 2 weeks to make sure u wouldn't eat him while he slept, and he kept u tied up to test u. He even offered u human flesh to make sure u didn't eat humans. when he was sure u weren't a threat, he let u go. Kei was getting ready to leave for the next city when u approached, asking questions.

“So... How long have u been traveling alone?” u asked, sounding curious as u watched him prepare his backpack.

“none of ur business.” he answered with an annoyed expression, not looking at u.

Kei had lost everything. His friends, family, his city... everything that was special to him. He has been traveling alone for a long time, wandering around and trying to survive.

“geez... u really are grumpy.” u joked a bit, tilting ur head. “can i go with u?” u asked with a hopeful smile.

“no.” he answered flatly, making ur smile drop. “i wont travel with a person i barely know. i mean... zombie, or whatever the fuck u are.” he shook his head, and ur shoulders slumped.

It wasn't the first time Kei had encountered humans, and the last time they tried to kill him to steal supplies. he couldn't trust anyone that came his way that easily.

“oh c'mon, pleaseeee! we're both alone, and u already know i dont eat humans! and its good to have company, u know? i mean, assuming we both lost everyone we knew, we will go crazy if we stay alone forever.” u persisted, trying to convince the blond boy.

Kei sighed. “follow me if u want to, i dont care. but if u even try to bite me, i swear that i'll-”

“cut my head off, right? you've said that about 4 times.” u said with a deadpanned expression. Kei rolled his eyes and turned away, picking up his backpack.

“wathever, just be warned.” and he started to walk.

Time passed and Kei began to trust u more, and u two formed a special bond. u were everything each other had, and u swore to survive all this together.

u visited several cities together, went to abandoned amusement parks, killed several zombies, shared ur life stories and much more. u two became inseparable. u two fought and went through several difficult, life-or-death situations, but even so, u remained together.

And so began a wonderful friendship between a zombie and a grumpy human! which could develop into something more later on...

thank u for reading (⁠｡⁠･⁠ω⁠･⁠｡⁠)⁠ﾉ⁠♡

[literaila]

PETER PARKER ANGST????❤️🫡🛬🤭😍🗣🙀🫡😀🫡🫶😀😟🫶😟❤️ (if you dont write it ill sob violently on the floor ☹️)

we could call it even

tasm!peter x fem!reader

summary:

"peter parker," she says, "you're like a legend around here."

warnings: unspecified angst, series, no fluff, no explanation

a/n: might i introduce a playlist entitled stupid boy which i listened to while writing this (and the other parts????)

*

there's a specific time of night that is appropriate to go to the market. 

or inappropriate, depending on how old you are. 

if you're in your sixties and sometimes feel like your joints are just notches that need to be oiled, midnight probably isn't your designed time for grocery shopping. seven in the morning is typically the best time for swollen lungs and--literal--broken hearts. 

but if you're you, exhausted from running around all day, unpleasant from all of the people you've talked to, and trying to avoid anyone (everyone) you might know--and secrets you don't feel like sharing--then midnight is a perfect time. and perfectly normal, thank you very much.

you're not even sure why meyer's is open this late. there's no way the owner, jerry, is staying up until midnight to check out the lowlifes or drunk teenagers stopping by, and you know that these aren't prime business hours--evident by the crickets you can hear behind the 'fresh produce' section. maybe he forgets that it's open, and that susan--the only person willing to work here--is still on the clock. or maybe he's just taking pity on you. you don’t think he’s ever there, but maybe he hides around corners, noting the new lines on your face so he can report it back to every person in town. gossip is like a disease, and you’re never alone in a place like this. never quite at peace. 

you look around the next shelf for jerry, or a gust of wind that follows him running away. there’s only silence. the echoes of your footsteps. 

it doesn't matter why meyer’s is open. you're thankful for this time alone. or at least by yourself.

it's a welcome change to have no one judge you for your selection of deli cheese and baked goods. or the three containers of instant coffee you've hidden underneath it all. just out of habit. 

tuesday nights are yours, and the market is your chosen domain. 

usually, that is. usually, you're all alone. usually, you can run around on the carts and pick up anything you accidentally knock over. you can spill an entire bottle of wine on the floor and no one will blink an eye. jerry wouldn’t even be able to hear it from three feet away.

but tonight--on this tuesday when your feet hurt a little bit more than necessary, and your eyes are twitching at all of the lights--apparently you're not alone. 

which you wished you would have realized before you started humming 'single ladies' a bit too loudly. 

you wished you would have skipped shopping at all, really, as soon as you see his face. 

his wide eyes--surprised and silvered by age, much like yours--and his open mouth.

in a different world, you would be shocked--shocked instead of scared--and you might run to him. you might ask him why he didn't tell you he was coming? what is he doing here? in a different world, you two would be the only people in the market and it would be fine. 

it might even be great. 

this subtle shift in autonomy wouldn’t hurt the peace you’re looking for on this tuesday night.

there wouldn't be this obvious horror story standing between the two of you, this looming presence. the history of a thousand lies, bruise after bruise, and scars so red that they could burn through the ground. glass shattered around your feet.

the lights might as well start flickering. you should probably call out "hello?" even though he's right in front of you, and if he was going to murder you, he probably wouldn't answer. a door should creak. 

you should probably go. 

you should probably run away before he can take a step closer. you don't look a threat in the eye and smile at it. you don't feed a stray cat. 

it always comes back. 

why is he here? 

you take a step away. as soon as you notice him--behind, between, all over you--silence ensues. you might as well be at a loss for words. you don't have much to say to him. 

not to that look in his eyes, or his receding hairline, or that peak on his mouth. 

because peter would be here. at this time. and he would be trying to hide a smile, a smirk, when he's not even supposed to be within a five-hundred-foot vicinity of you. 

actually, maybe you forgot to mail that restraining order. 

but the words come out anyway because your body has always betrayed you when it comes to him. 

"peter?" you blurt out, and just saying the word stirs the simmering feeling inside of you. just saying his name is enough of a warning. 

"hey," he whispers and takes a step closer. you step back. he leans away like he knows his proximity is toxic. "sorry, i didn't mean to scare you." 

i didn't mean to. 

and yet. 

you breathe and forget how to blink. he might disappear. "peter," you repeat, as a form of masochism. you don't breathe at all. 

"sorry," he says, again. he doesn't say what for. there could be a million things. 

"um," you choke out, looking around--away from him and his manipulative eyes. "what?" you laugh to yourself, hand running over your face. you roll your eyes back into your head and laugh again. you shake your head. 

you look at peter, at his furrowed brow and inward stance, and you snort. look away from him before it's too late. 

you're laughing like something is funny. it's not. 

it's really not. 

"are you..." peter is swallowing. you'd like to pretend that his voice is hollow and cold, much like that cave inside your chest, but it's not. you recognize that concern, that softness in his voice that used to be just yours. "are you okay?" 

you almost giggle at him. it comes out as more of a cough. 

you wonder if you look like a ghost. some remanent of who you used to be--the person that only peter used to know.

"peter," you sigh, and step away from your cart. into the shelf you've been backing yourself into. 

you step away from him, still shaking your head. 

"i've got to--" you trip as you turn around and say to mostly yourself, "i've got to go." 

groceries, and peter, be damned, you think, as you walk out of the building and prepare yourself to never ever come back. 

it wouldn't be the first time. 

*

you are having your daily debate with mrs. brooke about the amount of calories in each pastry, in which you tell her that you only measure the amount of pleasure someone might get out of each one—which earns you a lovely sneer—and that she should try the blueberry scone. 

she always rolls her eyes at you, says something about watching her weight even though she’s looked the same since you were five years old and sneaking through her yard to catch the neighborhood cat. and then she leaves with a breakfast sandwich. 

it’s actually one of the most enjoyable parts of your day. 

here’s the thing about knowing every single person that comes into the shop: you know exactly what they’re going to order, and you know what type of conversation you’re going to have with them. 

mrs. brooke always stresses about her breakfast, her smile a tense sort of pleasant, but by the time she leaves her head is held a little higher. if she chooses the sandwich instead of the scone, then she’s started her day off right. you used to feel exasperated by her indecisive nature, but now you find it kind of adorable. 

mr. meyer—jerry—just comes in so he can complain about the surplus of options on your menu. he wants a black coffee, and he wants to complain. you always smile at him and ask if he’s sure he doesn’t want to try the raspberry green tea. he finds this less than humorous. 

every kid wants some kind of hot chocolate—which you actually have an excessive amount of—and no matter what their parents say, you sneak some extra marshmallows in. and everyone pretends otherwise. 

susan—your kindergarten teacher, now friend—asks if you’ve met anyone special lately. it doesn’t matter that the selection of single people your age is always the same. there’s got to be someone special, she says to you and leaves with a cider she tells everyone is a latte. 

there are the people who want their lattes and mochas, those who want some alternative milk that they complain about—even though you’ve tried every brand on earth—there are the people who don’t ever buy anything, and just come in to pretend they want something and talk to you. they gossip about the other people in town as if you aren’t well aware of everything that goes on.

you roll your eyes, but you appreciate the company. things get pretty boring when you can guess everyone’s schedule. 

but you like your tiny tea shop. you like the consistency. you enjoy the smiles you throw out, and the complaints you receive. it’s a routine, and nothing goes wrong. you're in control of this one thing, and that's just how you like it. 

in control, that is, of course, until you see him when mrs. brooke is walking away. 

“oh!” she says, pausing, her drink shaking in hand, her pink fingernails a smudge against the shadow suddenly coming from right in front of you. she is just a foot too close to him. “is that peter parker?” she asks, saying his voice like an omen, turning around so she can set her cup and bag down, and then hugging him so hard you can see her muscles working beneath her sleeve. 

“hey, mrs. brooke,” peter wheezes out, a strangled smile on his aged face. his same eyes.

he is just as surprised as you at her sudden outburst, the cooing noises she's making as she attempts to crumble him.

“look how handsome you’ve gotten! and so strong. what are those new yorkers doing with you?” 

“definitely not trying to squeeze me to death.” 

mrs. brooke laughs, somewhat vindictively, and she turns back around to look at you, with wide eyes. “did you know he was in town, dear? why didn’t you say anything? i almost had a heart attack.” 

peter clears his throat before you can throw any type of face on. any mask. “it’s a surprise,” he mock whispers, and his eyes dash to yours, then away, just as quick. “don’t tell anyone.” 

“it’s not like they’d believe me anyway,” she scoffs, “you’re a legend around here.” 

“i’m honored.” 

she laughs again, then grabs her cup. “oh,” she whispers, too loud. her eyes are tight, as if she’s intruded. “of course. i’ll leave and let you two talk.” 

and within a blink of an eye, she is running out of the shop, faster than you’ve ever seen anyone escape from here. 

and peter is there, standing in front of you. his face is smooth, calm, his eyes roaming over your face like he still has the privilege of knowing any of it. 

and your heart might be racing, if it was still there. 

"hi," he whispers. it is quiet enough for you to feel it in your chest. his voice and the memory of it. 

does he sound different? has he really changed that much in the last two years? is his face a bit worn? are his eyes a different color? 

but it doesn’t matter what rattles through your head—when you look at peter, you just see him. your peter. 

except that he’s completely different. 

you clear your throat, looking away and pushing off of the counter. “what can i get you?” 

peter blinks. “oh, um…” he looks at the menu above your head, back to you. “what—“ he swallows. “what would you recommend?” 

“it’s all good.” your voice is clipped. you should’ve said pure brewed black tea, no ice, no sweetener, no cup. just to get him out of here. you should've recommended the starbucks three towns over.

he swallows, again. a hand rakes through his hair. “i… just a sec.” 

there is a single second where you grant him the patience you would give every other customer—smile politely and let them know to ask if they have any questions. a single second where you treat him like anybody else. 

and then you say: “do you want a mocha, peter?” with an anger that shouldn’t—can’t—be contained inside of you. 

you wince at his name. the singe of his brand on you, going down your throat. 

peter seems to watch this on your face, because he’s even quieter when he answers, “sure, that’d be great.” 

at least some things haven’t changed.

so you grab a cup, writing his name on it, and move to grab the milk. 

you turn around and pretend like you’ve just forgotten he’s there. 

peter doesn’t take this hint. 

“so…” he says, his feet are loud as they tap on the ground. “you still work here, huh?” 

you barely grunt a response, spilling chocolate in the cup recklessly. if peter dies of a clogged artery it won’t be your fault. 

“that’s nice. felix always loved you. and you loved working here, back in highschool.” you have to face him as you steam the milk, and you try not to pointedly stare. not to roll your eyes or hiss at him. “it’s different though. the decor, i mean. but nice. i like it. did you do it?” 

“yes.” 

you grab his cup, pouring the milk and shoving the cap on it. “here,” your fingertips burn as you pass it to him, and you don’t think it’s because of the drink. 

“thank you.” 

you both stand there; peter blinks and doesn’t leave. 

he coughs. “i didn’t pay.”

“mrs. brooke would kill me if i made you pay for your first drink back home.” 

“well, she knows where you live,” his lip twitches, but he doesn’t laugh. 

and neither do you. 

“is it just you here?” he asks. “no felix?” 

“he sold me the shop a year ago.” 

his eyes widen. “oh. oh! that’s great. congrats.” 

“thank you.” 

you don’t move your eyes from his face, because it’s suddenly not fair that he’s here. that he’s allowed to intrude like this. 

“it’s good to see you,” peter relents, a fake smile playing on his lips. 

you falter. your heart turns in your chest, just so it doesn’t have to look at him anymore. “i’m working, okay?” you say, whispering. “i can't do this right now.” 

“right. yeah.” peter trips on a step back. his eyes are scanning your face again. “i’m sorry. i shouldn’t—“ he blows out a breath. “i’m sorry.” 

you nod. watch the ground as he stumbles over it. 

“i mean it though,” he adds, like he hadn’t thought about it. “it’s good to see you.” 

and then peter swallows. you blink at him. 

when he turns around the bell rings as he pushes it. and peter doesn’t look back. 

he’s right about one thing, at least. it is nostalgic. 

*

"when were you going to tell me?" your mom asks, leaning against her kitchen counter--the same one you scribbled on as a kid, smiley faces still apparent. she's doing that fake smile thing. the one that makes you want to storm off and slam the door like some mistreated teenager. 

you don't, but both of you know that you think about it. for at least five seconds

"tell you what?" you ask, instead, setting the groceries you brought for her on the counter. 

"about peter." 

your eyes close. he would follow you around, wherever you go. he's probably hiding in some vent, smiling maliciously. 

there's that teasing voice in your head saying small town, small small town, but you just turn around, ignoring it, and her, and raise a brow. "peter parker?" you repeat, rhetorically. "twenty-six, new york. brown hair, brown eyes. lived here his whole life, has an aunt who lives next door, tried to steal our cat when he was nine..." you drawl off, making a point to smile. "ringing any bells?" 

she throws a dish towel at you. "you know thats not what i meant." 

"do i?" 

you wipe the counter with the towel, then fold it nicely on the counter, all the while avoiding your mother's eyes. 

but you know she won't leave it alone. the same way she hasnt left you alone once in the past four years, like she can dig your feelings up from whatever grave you buried them in.

there's a part of you that wants to crawl over to her and ask her to make you some hot chocolate, to watch some childrens movie on the couch with you. you want to be the little kid who would've depended on that knowing glance she's still giving you. the little kid who idolized her and wasn't afraid to admit the truth--even if you did steal that chocolate bar from under her sink.

but you're grown, and this doesn't matter. not in the long run, anyway. 

you look up, expectant eyes. she has your same eyes, and meets them.

"linda told nancy, who told jerry, who told me over the phone..." she shakes her head. "but may was here earlier." 

"yeah? how is she?" 

"good, busy, i'm guessing, because you know how she dotes over him." 

"yeah..." 

you fold the towel again, running your fingertips over the embrodered flowers. 

"have you seen him?" 

you swallow, and nod absentmindedly. you're not going to tell her about the grocery store. "yeah, he came into the shop yesterday." 

she taps your hand, and you let go of the rag. she hangs it back over the oven, the ebbing silence more like a threat, her hands falling to her hips. "why didn't you say anything?" 

"it's not a big deal. he came in, ordered, and then left." 

"and there were no words between the two of you?" she prods. "no wandering eyes? you just read his mind instead of taking his order?" 

you grit your teeth, rolling your eyes. "he asked for a mocha and i made it for him." 

"nothing else?" 

"he said it was nice to see me." 

she waves a hand at you. 

"and i said that i was working." you sigh, leaning against the counter. "that's all." 

"you're not freaking out?" your mom ducks her head so she can meet your eyes. her face is sullen, but her smile is genuine. 

it's like talking to a counselor. 

"why would i be freaking out? he had to come back sometime." 

she scoffs. the little necklace your dad gave her dangles from her neck, and you watch it. "i don't know," she says, using the same voice you do when she tells you not to take a tone with her. "maybe because you havent spoken to him in the last three years?" 

yeah, the same voice says, rough and patronizing, you haven't spoken to him in five years. why is that, again? 

but you snort at your mom, a defensive smile making its way to your lips as you look at her. "water under the bridge," you say, dismissing it. 

you don't want to talk about this with her. you don't want to talk about this with anyone. 

because the only person who might actually understand is the same person who left three years ago. who came back with no warning at all. 

"did may say when he got here?" you ask, voice escaping before you can stop it. 

"just a day or two ago, i think. why?" 

"is he here for the holidays?" 

"yes. she said he plans to stay until at least january. he's between jobs, i guess." 

"oh." you smack your lips and move away from her, back to the groceries, which is the reason you're here in the first place. you take out the milk jug, walking to the fridge, but a soft hand stops you. 

your mom is smiling when you turn towards her. "you don't have to talk about it," she's saying, her voice smooth and comforting. "i don't--i don't know what happened between the two of you. i just mentioned it because may said he was talking about you. it..." she drops off, wincing. 

"what?" 

"it might be good to talk to him. put the water under the bridge." 

you roll your eyes, nose twitching. you don't need to say anything, you won't. your mother is just another town gossip, and her opinion has no sway over you. 

even ask the words sink in. 

"now put the rest of those away," she says, ruffling your hair, "i know what happens when you take your 'breaks.'" 

you push her and put the milk in the fridge. 

*

you're mopping the floor when the bell rings, and a cold brush of air trails goosebumps up your skin. 

it's late enough in the season to no longer smell like the leaves falling onto the ground, or the grandesur pine needles showing off their lifespan. it's cold in the shop now, and you have three coats in the back. 

but the person who walks in is only wearing one. one you recognize from several years ago, with the holes in the sleeves from when he jumped over your fence and sprained his ankle. the stain on the front when may threw a plum soaked rag at him and you'd laughed so hard that you'd fallen to your knees on the floor and couldn't breathe. 

peter's face is wain. his eyes are cautious as they meet yours. 

you're not used to anyone coming in at 5:55. everyone knows you close at six, and the few people who'd dared to come in and order a drink a minute before you flipped your sign have learned their lesson. 

but peter hasn't learned anything. 

"i know," he says, like tracking your mind. "you close at six. may told me." 

"okay." 

you're still holding the mop, sure that his footprints would leave mud all over your floors. 

"i don't want to buy anything. or--" he breathes out, hands wringing at his sides, probably from the cold. "i will. if you want me to. but that's not why i came. i wanted to see if you..." 

he does a sweep over you, and his words fall in the air, as if he's just realized something. 

you look down at the snowflake apron your mom bought last year. it's not that dirty. 

you look back up, brows furrowed, and peter's expression matches yours. "yes?" you prod, feeling that anger simmer in the core of your chest. but you've been rude enough to him. 

your mom's words ring out in your head. 

it might be good to talk to him. 

peter swallows, whatever emotion on his face fading. "i wanted to see if you would go to dinner with me. or take a walk. or--or i'll buy you groceries, since you left yours the other night. it doesn't matter. i just want to... talk to you." 

"you want to talk to me?" 

peter nods. "i can wait outside, while you finish." he waves a hand, like an explanation. "it doesn't have to be long. just five minutes?" 

you watch peter, his face a world of feeling that you can't recognize anymore. 

and maybe that hurts the most. not him being here, not the distance or the time you've let edge you apart, but the fact that it's changed things. peter has changed and you've just let that happen. he's got a life seperate from you and there's no one to blame. he'd reached out enough, initially. months of letting his calls go to voicemail and ignoring may when you saw her in the street. 

putting yourself back together in the misshaped way you are now. peter probably doesn't even recognize you--not like this.

maybe it's your fault. 

but you find yourself nodding anyway, ignoring the guilt seeping through the cracks of you. you nod, and peter's face changes. 

it's not the first time you've noticed his eyes, or watched relief ease into him, but it's just the same. 

"yes?" peter asks, his voice rough and dry. you look at that jacket again. 

"where's your coat?" 

"my..." peter looks down with you. "oh, my coat. all of the ones aunt may kept were too small, and i thought--" he scratches his neck. "well, i forgot how cold it gets." 

you nod, slowly. 

peter nods back. 

you stare at him a moment longer, and then break away from his unfamiliar gaze. 

"just give me five minutes. i just need to put this away, and grab my stuff, and..." you swallow. 

"okay. great. do you want to me wait outside, or should i?" he gestures around, looking as uncomfortable as you've ever seen him. 

"you can sit. just--don't get any dirt on the tablebases." 

"okay. thank you." 

you nod, one last time, and look away from him. 

your heart runs circles around peter as he sits at one of your tables, his long legs not fitting beneath it. it taunts you again and again as you try not to notice him breathing, try to ignore him completely. 

you dup the mop water, spilling it on your shoes. you wipe down the last counter, the syrup sticking to your hands like a scar. you walk around the shop trying to find something else to do so you can avoid this as long as possible. your feet are cold and your hands feel abnormally dry. maybe you need to go home and shower. maybe you shouldn't be doing this at all. 

you sit in the office for a moment, wishing you could watch peter without him knowing. scope him out before you hear what he has to say. 

and--

okay, maybe there's a part of you that's been waiting three years for this. 

that dream where he's there even though you don't want him; that moment when he apologizes and you forgive him automatically, because your heart has always been small and fragile around him; that fantasy where peter comes home and he's the same teenager you used to walk around town with at two in the morning, the same brown eyes laughing as you both slipped on ice and fell on top of eachother. 

you won't deny that you've thought about this before. what you might say to him if you got the chance. 

but as you grab your bag and hang your apron around the chair in the office, the words have gone some place else. what could you say to him to make any of this make sense? 

still, you clear your throat when you walk out, feet aching from standing all day. you blink at him as he struggles to get up, pushing your chair in, the legs scratching on the floor the only sound between the two of you.