#i feel like i need to explain that the eyeliner looks like that bc its the angle and i have HOODED EYES ok sorry

[biolums]

i did my makeup last night and now i feel like a normal human being again. killing stabbing murdering which ever deity made makeup my creative outlet. do they KNOW how inconvenient that is for me

[tastesousweet]

⭒ the girl with the tattoo (iv) - pt 1 pt 2 p3

matt sturniolo x fem!oc / reader

summary : maybe the only way matt and y/n can stand being around each other is to fuck each other

warnings : weed, alcohol/drinking, smut (slightly rough but not very?? pretty filthy tho), profanity

mickey speaks : rlly hate how the smut turned out but maybe its jus me being a perfectionist + i changed a lot of shit ab UCLA (mostly grad dates) to fit into my narrative okay, i knowwww. only sorta proofread bc ive been busy, enjoy <3

THIS IS PART FOUR GO READ THE FIRST THREE PARTS DUHH

"FUCK!"

the turn of spring to summer in LA is typically the most eventful time of year. more parties are thrown than ever before in celebration of the season change, the boom of tourism begins, and of course school years are ending.

you celebrated your college graduation from UCLA only a week ago, with a large dinner at your favorite seafood restaurant and your friends all excitedly in attendance. matt was also there but you let it be known you invited him only so you wouldn’t feel bad (though he claims he wouldn’t have cared if you did or not).

you also shared an excruciating breakfast that same morning with your parents (both suffocating you with their traditional views that reminded you exactly why you moved hours away from them to attend school). you were cautious to wear items of clothing that would hide your tattoo and kept any conversations on the topic of your schooling rather than outside interests (not that they even care to ask) out of fear you may expose your routine of going out to party most weekends.

your brother was also at breakfast and you could tell he was trying his hardest to keep a positive attitude for you. you immediately noticed his wet face when you gave him a full hug after your ceremony, which made you cry, mostly out of missing him and love.

"it's not that bad!" andrea looks at you in the mirror as she continues to give herself soft curls.

“how the fuck did i manage to make this one downturned and this one up,” you reply in frustration while you point to either wing of eyeliner on your grimaced face.

andrea giggles and aims the stick of the curling iron at makeup remover lying in the sink, “just get a q-tip and fix it, cariño.” (“honey”)

you move around her to grab a q-tip from a small jar in the medicine cabinet before following her instructions, getting extra close to the mirror.

remi barges in the bathroom dressed in a mini skirt and a detailed patterned top, “hi nick!” she exclaims to her phone screen, placing it down on the counter while untwisting her lipgloss.

you can see nick’s awkward face as he sits in the car (making his camera jump at any dip or bump in the road), “sooo…this better be erin’s bathroom ceiling im staring at.”

“and if i say it’s not?” remi giggles to herself before rubbing her lips together to spread the gloss further.

“i’d say what the fuck are you guys still doing at home?! y/n’s our mutual friend that even got us into this bitch and i’m not just walking into some sorority house acting like i know any of these fucking people.”

“and we didn’t go to college!” chris exclaims to add to the point.

“yeah, we didn’t go to fuckin’ college!” nicks adds before his face falters, “the fuck does that have to do with it?”

chris’ voice is low as he explains himself, “you know…like, obviously we aren’t gonna know shit about some delta kappa omega?”

nick comedically pauses and the three of you watch the screen to see him staring at chris with no facial expression, “…okay chris. anyway, get your asses over here ASAP. we need you.”

“okay, we don’t need them. you’re being dramatic just chill out,” matt huffs from the driver’s seat.

“hey, we’re leaving soon i promise, nick.” andrea assures and remi picks her phone off of the counter to show the girl.

"thanks, but we'll be fine. erin told me where to find her, let's not get ridiculous." matt continues dismissing the conversation he finds so unnecessary.

you hold yourself back from saying anything but you can’t help but wonder just how close erin has got to matt. and how she managed to hold any conversations without pissing him off (no way a little lap dance dismissed matt’s entire personality). she hasn’t been too explicit about anything happening between them, only cluing you all in through her frequent mentions of him.

chris’ loud voice beams, “yeah, you ladies take your time! nick gimme the phone-” chris’ smiley face takes up remi’s screen now that the phone has shifted, “you know, who the fuck are we to tell any of you to rush?!” he sees andrea in view (with a form fitting dress and warm toned makeup) and can’t help the rush of words that decide to spill from his mouth, “andreayoulookfineasshitbytheway- and i just think, uh,” he giggles at his poor recovery and at andrea shaking her head and biting the side of her mouth (her very andrea way of blushing). “um, yeah, fuck, what was i sayin’?” he turns to matt.

nick laughs from the backseat at chris’ comment (he thinks it’s generally embarrassing opposed to andrea who finds herself embarrassingly flattered by him).

“nothing important, say your goodbyes now, we just pulled up.” matt gives his short advice and takes the phone. “see you, bye,” he hangs up and chris punches his arm immediately.

“dudeee!” chris groans. matt doesn’t give any reaction besides handing nick his phone back without looking at him.

“we’ll see them in less than an hour, get your shit.” matt tilts his head out the door as he opens it and exits the car.

“he’s so annoying.” chris huffs and turns to nick as he unbuckles his seatbelt.

“i don’t know him, he’s your fuckin’ brother.” nick shrugs and acts clueless. chris laughs into his seat and nick knows making chris laugh makes him feel way better than just shitting on matt would’ve.

matt opens his door again, “get your gigglin’ asses out here!”

౨ৎ

matt's suprised he's lasted this long at this party without a fucking drink.

he's seen just about every partygoer trope there is - drunk guys and "you need to sober up" girlfriends, overly excited drunks far too impressed by each new song that plays, the loner type who strictly speak within their circle even when wasted, et cetera - and has managed to lose everyone he knows in this crowd, leaving him alone with DD responsibilities in a sorority house bouncing with excitement in honor of their “graduating senior sisters.”

speaking of, he’s only spoken to erin once all night. he did see you with your friends briefly, early in the night before you were swooped away with nick to be introduced to some guy he just met.

so like all times matt is bitchless and bored, he decides to smoke. he reaches in his jacket pocket for the joint he rolled before the party, in case of emergency.

but just as he raises the lighter towards his mouth he's interrupted by an airy, high pitched voice, “um, excuse me!” matt looks over, “yeah, you. sorry, you can't have drugs in the house.” the blonde frowns.

“it’s weed…” matt clarifies, taking the joint from between his lips.

“uh huh! and that is prohibited, outside please,” she guides her hand, drink in tow, towards a sliding door behind her.

he's not gonna nitpick with some chick about the umbrella term of 'drugs' or debate whether the alcohol she's drinking lies under it, so he just nods his head “cool,” and removes himself from his spot against the wall to walk around her and out of the door.

౨ৎ

you slump against a nearby couch as you recover from a hour of dancing alongside your best friends. remi sits next to you and leans her head on your shoulder as you both look around at the room full of people (a shade of deep fuchsia covers the room from multiple LED lights around the large house).

when you feel your own blinks become slower you shrug your shoulder and look at remi's profile, "we should probably get up rem, or else we'll fall asleep. this couch is way too comfy." you sigh.

"mmm... yeah. kinda want another drink but," she turns to look behind you both, "the kitchen's all the way over there..."

"now i know you two aren't tapping out of my party already?!"

you both look over to see erin dressed in a small glittered party dress, making her shine as she walks closer. "erin, where the fuck have you been?!" you excitedly rise from the couch and give her a hug.

"it's actually so fucking hard to host a graduation party, especially with my sorority sisters- they've had me doing all these traditions and shit, i haven't had time to talk to like anyone!" she explains to both you and remi.

"well, at least you look good, bitch!" remi adds and holds erins hand to make her twirl in her dress.

"thank you," she blushes and looks down then back to you two, "have either of you seen the triplets?"

"i think nick's off with some dude and chris is 'teaching' drea how to play beer pong..." you trail off and look to remi, "have you seen matt at all...?"

"not recently, i don't think so?" she looks over to erin.

"oh okay, that's fine. just wanna make sure they're having funnn." she draws her words out as she plays with the ends of her hair and smiles. you and remi can both tell she something bothers her more than she's leading on.

"e, come with us to grab drinks," you hold both remi and erin's hands and guide them with you to the kitchen.

౨ৎ

matt hadn't realized how hard he was staring at you dancing until chris came up to him with wild eyes and a loud laugh, making him snap away from whatever trance he was in.

"you okay, matt? your brain's not buzzkillin' right?"

matt straightens himself to no longer lean on the wall, "no."

"you sure?"

"yes?"

"maybe you should say fuck DD and have a drink or two, might give you somethin' to smileee aboutttt!" chris laughs.

"don't be stupid, chris. 'm not driving drunk."

"obviously we'd get an uber, matt." he emphasizes with a 'duh' attitude. "i get funnier when drunk, not stupid."

"right," matt offers a light laugh.

he throws a hand over matt's shoulder as they both face the crowd of dancing people, "god damn andrea's fucking hot- swear she's been feelin' me all night," chris hypes himself up then brings his red solo cup towards his mouth.

matt's eyes shift from you to andrea, who's limbs move just as freely and smile is just as wide. "that's good, that's good," matt nods. "she's nice."

"she's everything, bro." chris shakes his head in awe, "but, uh, do you have any cash on you?" matt turns his head, eyes showing his annoyance. "i'll pay you back, you know that matt. just like $20 to get me in the poker game outside."

"chris-"

"please, matt," he begs.

matt lets a heavy sigh out through his nose as he rustles in his pocket for his wallet. "you're my favorite now," chris kisses matt's hand quickly before he's heading off with a crumpled twenty in hand.

matt's eyes follow him until he's fully gone, then he's turning to look for you again. only this time it's not a challenge at all, you're already on your way.

you pull at the bottom of your little black dress (which rode up some due to your eccentric dancing) as you approach. "hi, matttt," you sing. it's known to most of your friends that when you're drunk your emotions are ten times stronger, and right now you're feeling extra carefree.

matt can tell you've definitely had a few drinks, so he tries to keep the conversation civil. "hey," he cracks a smile.

"are you not having fun?" you ask. you've wondered ever since you recognized him across the room.

"sure, i'm having fun." he shrugs, keeping eye contact with you.

you notice his all black outfit and blue jean jacket, "we kinda match," you look down at yourself then towards him, "i had a jean jacket too...it's um, in a closet somewhere i think."

"then you must have great style," matt jokes.

"oh i think that was clear before i happened to match you," you joke making use of your hands while speaking.

"mhm, sure..."

"so, do you wanna dance with us?" you smile in question.

"absolutely not," matt laughs and brings a fist to his mouth.

your smile drops, "right, you watch us dance but laugh at the thought of participating...?" you move your eyes to each side, "'cause that makes sense, matthew."

"no, it's not like that. you go have fun, i'm just not one to make myself look stupid for fun." he shrugs.

"so we...look stupid?" you squint your eyes in amusement knowing matt is trying to be such a hard ass for no reason.

"you said it," he laughs.

now you're a bit annoyed. "so you go back to being a loser all alone right here in this corner, and i'll go back to this stupid party and enjoy myself."

"alright," he rolls his eyes, "go ahead and be dramatic about it."

"will do," you sigh and begin to walk over to your friends, presenting matt with the gift of your middle finger directed towards him behind your back.

and matt thinks he just might take chris' advice on having a drink or two.

౨ৎ

you hate that matt is still on your mind.

and it irritates the fuck out of you that you're now giddy seeing him for a third time tonight. but to give yourself the benefit of the doubt, you've gotten to the point where you're so buzzed you've become horny.

you came outside on the hunt for remi, who told you she was looking for erin, and ended up finding all three triplets at a makeshift poker table full of rowdy men.

and as some wise person must have said: when horny, find someone to fuck.

"y/n!! whatcha doin'?" nick notices you and gives you a wide grin offering you a chair near the table.

"hey, nick. 'm sorry i can't really stay i just, um, need to borrow matt."

matt. who isn't paying much attention to anything around him now that the four shots he took settled. with his phone in one hand and a beer resting in his other, he's bound to be startled when you come behind him and whisper in his ear, "heyyy, sorry to bother but can we talk?"

he blinks and looks behind him, "y/n?!"

"come," you motion with your fingers and begin to walk away as he rubs his fingers over his eyes and starts to stand up.

"yeah?" he asks getting closer to you.

you wordlessly bring him back into the heated house and navigate until you find a mostly empty hallway (all while he keeps annoying you by repeatedly asking what you want).

his back falls against the wall, "way to confuse the fuck outta me. what's good?" the hand you were once holding dives into his front pocket out of habit and the other continues to hold his beer.

"i just need you to take me home."

"y/n, i'm no longer driving myself home, let alone you," he shakes his head.

"right, i figured, smartass."

"glad those comprehension skills still work. grab your phone and order an uber, 'm sure you dont need my help."

"matt. i want you to come home with me." you sigh in defeat.

"oh shit." matt dead pans. "ohhh shit." his eyes widen before a a laugh breaks through his closed mouth, "sunshine...you're tryna' fuck?" he looks up at you from his spot against the wall.

you scramble a lie to make yourself look less pathetic, "you're a last resort trust me," you roll your eyes. this was way better in your drunken mind than reality.

"still made the list though!" matt jokes, "wow. who knew you were so romantic? bringing me all the way over here just to tell me you wanna fuck. and at your place? how sweet," he can't help but poke fun.

"fuck you," you say under your breath.

"well only because you asked so kindly!" he goes to wrap his arms around you before you push him back against the wall.

"are you done?"

"i guess." he shrugs.

"so will you or not," you try to keep your confidence and not allow matt's comments to embarrass you. "it's fine if not, just-"

"yeah," matt's smirk slowly grows. "meet me out front, i'll have to go lie to my brothers but i can be quick."

౨ৎ

"why am i shocked you're actually here?" you ask as you shut the car door and look over to matt, phone screen reflected on his face.

the car begins to speed out of the neighborhood as he turns off his phone and shoves it in his jacket pocket, "let's be serious for one second," he reaches over and pulls at the end of your dress, "you wear this and look like that and you think i'd say no? i'd be crazy. i mean, yeah, your fuckin' mouth can irritate me to pieces but-"

"actually just shut up, matt" you remove your head from leaning against the window and move across the middle seat to kiss him. you pull apart fairly quickly though, "how are you less mean yet extra annoying when drunk? i shoulda went with my last last resort." you shake your head.

matt grumbles before leaning to kiss you again.

౨ৎ

after a car ride full of teasing and rushed kisses, you both made it to your apartment complex.

you fumble with your purse as you search for your house keys, distracted by matt’s lips moving over your neck. you pinch your eyes shut in frustration, “mattt, give me a second,” you nudge your shoulder into him to get him off of you.

“let me see it,” he grumbles grabbing your purse and finding your keys with ease, moving his arms around you and unlocking the door.

“you make it look so easy,” you breathe and open the door with your body pressed against it.

matt lets go of you and follows you inside.

you lean a hand on the wall next to the door to quickly remove your heeled shoes and matt watches you with dopey eyes and glossy, excessively bitten lips before deciding to take his shoes off as well.

you walk closer to him once he’s done, your dress riding up your legs and barely covering your ass at this point. you look up to him and softly ask, “do you need anything to drink?”

he brings his right hand up to hold your face and moves close to your lips, “you know i don’t want a fucking drink.”

“you don’t?" your pout is genuine even though you're teasing him. he knows you're sweet enough to really get him a drink if he desired. he draws his thumb across your slumped lip before you speak again, "well…what do you want, matt?” you move your hands to the waist of his jeans, tracing the outer seam.

he pinches his eyes shut and moves his head to lean on your shoulder, he’s not gonna be the one to say he wants to fuck you. you want to fuck him, that's why he's here. so he’s definitely not begging you to touch him.

“hmm…?” you hum as your hands go to either side of his face, bringing him back to look at you. he looks into your eyes as he drops his hand from your jaw. you notice the pink splotches that still linger on his face, recovering from the heat of the party atmosphere and now the heat of this moment.

matt looks down at your lips, “you know what i want, and you want it too.” his hands travel down and push the front of your mini dress up as he feels over your underwear.

you mouth hangs open and you move your hips against him softly. begging him with your actions rather than your words. and those tend to speak the loudest.

"so what do you want, y/n?" he asks quietly without breaking eye contact.

"matt-" you breathe, wanting him to do anything more than a juvenile rub over your underwear.

he licks and sucks your neck as your hands capture his hair. “where do you want me?” he sounds out of breath when he asks so close to your ear. he finally moves his fingers past the waistband of your panties to nudge your clit as he taunts, “hmm…? you want me right here?”

you whine, “we can’t right here."

"why not?" he breathes against you, annoyed.

"i can't have you fuck me in the foyer i share with my best friend,” you just know andrea would be pissed if either of your body’s fluids made it onto the freshly vacuumed carpet.

he retracts his hand, “then why are we just standing around? show me to your room,” his voice is rough.

“why don’t you try to guess which is my room is mine?” you smile with your faces far too close together.

“why don’t you be a good host and give me a tour?” he retorts.

“that’s not fun,” you push.

he growls and lifts you up, walking past the living room and into a hallway that splits in two (all while you incessantly kiss his jaw and upper neck). he huffs at his ridiculous situation and reaches for the first door he sees. a toilet sits at the end of the room and a cluttered counter to the left.

“bathroom,” you mutter with a giggle.

matt responds with a snipped tone, “mhm yeah i’ve seen one before.”

his grip on your waist grows harsher as he opens and closes a multitude of doors with you commentating over.

he finally makes it to your room with you mocking him in a cheer of celebration as you climb off of him and turn on the dim light near your bedside.

matt would normally take in the room around him but his headspace is far too sexually frustrated to give a shit about how you decorate your room.

he opts to stand near the door and eye you from afar, wanting nothing more than to pounce on you.

you notice this (as well as the fact that matt hasn’t listened to a word you’ve said about minding the mess of clothes piled in the corner from your struggle to pick an outfit earlier) and slowly walk back towards him. the soft yellow light blurs behind you and highlights the edges of your figure in a mouthwateringly pretty way that makes matt antsy.

when you’re close enough matt somehow pulls you closer. his nose nudges against yours messily before capturing your mouth in a heated kiss. your hands feel for the end of his shirt and move underneath it to touch his warm lower stomach. you can feel how his body expands and curls as he breathes through your unwavering kiss.

despite wanting to keep the tension high, you break apart from matt to tease a bit, “can i touch you?” his face is scrunched absentmindedly from his desire and his lower lip finds its place tucked behind his front teeth when he rushes a nod to you in encouragement.

you push him away from you softly, “take your jacket off.” you move to your bed and after the sound of a jacket hitting the floor, you find him right on your feet, chasing your kiss and heat.

he leans over you and immediately finds your lips once more. now that he’s on top of you he finds himself wanting to get you to say how bad you want him.

his hands meet your thighs and move your dress as they run up to your rib cage before moving back down to squeeze your thighs.

matt’s surprised when you’re the one to involve your tongue in the mix, making the kiss sloppy yet intimate. your hand then crawls into his hair to keep him close.

but he doesn’t let you hold him for long, taking your hand from his hair and laying it against the bed, raising himself above you. “what do you want sweetheart?” he lowers his other hand towards your stomach, grazing your tattooed hip gently before feeling your underwear.

“you,” you respond in defeat and desperation.

“oh? and you want me to…?”

“matt. touch me,” you take your free hand and guide his own under the waistband of your underwear.

“but i thought you wanted to touch me? now you’re just bein’ selfish.” he keeps his hand close to your pussy, running his index finger across your lips kindly.

you look at him with droopy eyes, “please."

so matt lets you be selfish. he selfishly wants to taste you after all. he lowers himself to your face and captures your bottom lip once more, sucking then biting down slightly before moving his face further down your body slowly. your dress maintains its rippled shape in a bunch right where your tits lie.

he makes his way to your tattooed lower hip, still a little impressed with his execution of the cartoon (as it's not his typical style) and showing this with a kiss, then a light lick (making you shudder the tiniest bit). as he furthers, he finds the space on the bed is not enough, opting for the plush, carpeted floor.

matt sits on the back of his calves to watch how your body reacts when he pulls your panties down, only he misses the satisfied smile curling onto your face when you move your head to the the side.

he shifts your pliable legs to give him a better view of your heat's entirety, spreading your folds gently as he gathers spit in his mouth and spills it onto your clit. his eyes flicker from your face (choking on a moan) to the bead of saliva mixing with your natural slick that has him on edge. “that feel good?” he asks and moves his fingers up and down your pussy slowly, bumping your clit but not lingering long enough.

“yes...so good, matt,” you encourage in a broken whimper.

he hums, placing his mouth over your clit and sucking hard. you moan out lowly and you can't help but close your legs around matt's head. he normally would lay them flat again and tease you but he finds the pressure and dizziness turns him on so much more. his hands rest at your hips, moving up and down and your legs cradle his head as he works his mouth and tongue on you.

"mm fuck," you reach above your head to grip the soft colored comforter in your manicured hands. matt never falters, his licks only become needier when he adds two of his fingers to curl inside of you.

he continues his restless actions until the moment right before you have registered you were about to cum. then, he's immediately removing himself and standing up, wiping his face with one hand as the other hurries to unbuckle his chunky black belt.

you grumble and fix yourself to sit up and look at him, now discarding the belt into his own growing pile of clothes on your floor. he begins to unbutton his pants when he hears you whine and pull at his ego to get him to come back. “how fucking typical. should’ve known i'd barely get one orgasm, let alone two out if this.”

matt immediately stops unzipping his jeans and comes closer to stand above you, his face clearly annoyed. he gives your pussy a light slap, making you whimper. “keep talking shit, brat.” he grits through his teeth and slaps it again making a filthily wet sound that has you moaning.

he doesn't stop at that; he begins to harshly rub your clit back and forth without mercy, keeping eye contact as his face hovers your own, before moving his fingers inside of you while his thumb continues to work your clit. continuous loud moans crowd your room before you eventually meet your high with rolled eyes and shaking legs.

matt quickly pulls his fingers out and wipes them against your thigh leaving it sticky and shiny like golden honey. finally able to unzip and remove his jeans and boxers, allowing his needy cock to be free from the tightness. you move to the edge of your bed when you hear the small clap against his stomach, eager to find matt as ready for you as you are for him.

he watches from above as you admire his length while your fingers ghost over his sensitive dick. you then bring your mouth closer, dribbling spit over his tip and wrapping a fist around him. you look up into his hooded eyes for approval then take him in your mouth and jerk the rest of him with your hand.

he groans and bites his pink and undoubtedly swollen bottom lip as you suck and hollow your cheeks around him, even taking him all the way at some points. and though this feels fucking amazing, he wants nothing more than to be inside of you right now.

he holds the base of your neck then squeezes lightly to get you to pull away, spit erotically traveling with your lips. “can i fuck you now?” his voice is perfectly hushed yet demanding in tone.

you nod and matt wipes your lips, “good, take that dress off.” he removes his own shirt and reaches for a spare condom he’d put in his pocket before leaving the house (for no particular reason). he turns back to you, with your breasts now on display for him, ripping the package with his teeth.

you motion for him to give it to you and he complies. somehow even when you’re literally putting a condom over his dick, you’re a sweetheart about it: kissing it once he’s fully covered and turning yourself over onto all fours without him having to ask. because you understand yourself and have the confidence to choose the position you’d like to be fucked in. and matt would be lying if he said that isn't so fucking attractive.

he smirks as he adjusts himself on the bed, feeling out every inch of your full ass before moving his hands to squeeze your waist. you lay your head against the plush comforter, arching yourself further in anticipation. “matt,” you blubber out a whine.

he takes the base of his cock and guides it through your folds, “mhm…i know.” he sees your face twist in amusement, “oh, you like that, huh?”

you lick your lips and nod your head before matt finally pushes himself fully inside of you. his hips start in slow, rhythmic patterns before becoming uncontrolled and incomplete- and the same goes for your moans.

matt's almost hypnotized by the way your ass moves in reaction to his thrusts (slowing himself down just to watch in detail and only speeding up when you start to get really antsy over it).

as you both get sloppier and chase your highs, matt decides to flip you over and tuck your legs into your chest for a different angle. there's something especially needy in the way he rubs at your clit and makes a mess of your tits with his mouth that drives you insane with pleasure.

"my- shit!" you moan harshly under matt.

"hold it," he huffs.

"can't," you whimper, "just-"

"shhh," matt captures your lips as he quickens his pace, feeling his own climax approaching. after a few moments you're breaking the kiss to roll your head away, exposing your neck as you uncontrollably cum around matt.

"fuck," he moans, stilling his movements to maximize his release.

he takes a moment to breathe before removing himself from you, immediately fucking his fingers into you while rubbing your weak clit (just to be annoying) until you push him away and tell him to fuck off.

he lets out a chuckle as he removes the condom and discards it appropriately. when he comes back over to you you're on your side with your own arm wrapped around your waist in comfort.

matt sits next to you, "that good for you?"

you just nod and bite back a smile.

matt hums in pride, running a hand over your exposed ass before leaning down to kiss and suck a dark hickey into the skin.

"c'mere," you tug his hand.

he complies and you turn to open your legs for him once more, grinding a bit once the two of you begin to kiss again.

you reach between the two of you, taking matt's half-hard dick in your hand and stroking. as you pick up your pace he whines and begins to thrust into your hand in need.

until you hear your front door open. to which you push matt off of you and on to the floor, hearing him groan as you snap at him to get in your closet.

you crawl under your comforter while matt hurries to gather his things from your floor and get into your closet.

you hear andrea stumble a little making her way through the house and you catch your breath just as she knocks on your door and cracks it to check if you're sleeping.

"y/n, you awake?" she slurs a whisper.

"yes. hi drea, how'd you get home?"

she opens the door a little further but continues to lean on the door frame, "how did you get home? was lookin' all over like 'where's my girl?' everyone was usless though," she sighs.

"sorry, i took an uber," you giggle, "i got sleepy, i guess."

"mhm...you and me both." she yawns expectedly.

"you should get some sleep, we can talk in the morning, okay?" you smile from your bed.

andrea nods, "'kay, love you." she leaves with a sleepy smile.

"love you," you reply as she shuts the door again.

you let out a relieved breath, glad she hadn't suggested a sleepover like you'd both normally do when drunk.

matt walks out of your closet, almost fully clothed, buckling his belt again, "gave me fucking rug burn, thanks."

you move a hand over your face, "sorry- i just don't need anyone seeing you here."

"'s fine," he shrugs and takes a seat on your bed, "how long is it gonna take her to sleep so i can leave?"

"less than five minutes," you pick at one of your acrylic nails, seeing matt place his jacket on your bed makes you almost laugh to yourself, "shit, i left my jacket at erin's."

matt grins to himself and adds, "shit, i left my car at erin's," with a shake of his head.

you both laugh softly before it fizzles.

matt's back is towards you as he opens his phone to order another uber home. and now the silence brings you back into reality and suddenly you're feeling sick to your stomach about erin.

it takes you a little but you eventually mumble towards his back, "matt you didn’t fuck erin, right?"

"no," his voice sounds distracted and like he wouldn't care even if he did.

you focus on a loose thread in your comforter that you pick at, "...kay. not that it matters 'cause this was only for tonight. but i know i would probably die from guilt knowing i fucked with you after she did."

he turns to see you genuinely out of it and seeming to shelter yourself under your blanket. he leans towards you and rubs your arm softly before whispering, "don't make it a big fucking deal, nothing's different." his stare actually makes you feel far worse but you nod as if you agree anyway.

he stands up and puts his jacket on, “you sleep well okay, sunny?”

"shut the fuck up, you don't care about how i sleep," you whisper.

he breathes a laugh and reaches for your door.

꩜⋆ ˚｡⋆🎱˚

tag list (ily):

@rootbeerworshiper

[gibbearish]

Hey, I found ur trans quiz thing on uquiz, I think I'm in the right place. Anyway, I'm basically positive that I'm trans, but I don't know if I should come out. If I do, my mom and brother will be disgusted by me, (both Christians) and I'm pretty sure I'd get the same result from my best friend. My real name is Roman, but I put Charlie for my username bc I want to be Charlotte instead. I don't want to bottle up my feelings, but I'm sure they would all judge me. What do you suggest I do? Thx for listening.

hey there! yep you reached the right place:3

this is always a tough one, i was in a pretty similar situation when i was in high school. i know a lot of people will say like "you never know until you try, the people who love you might surprise you!" but personally ive always found that to be somewhat shallow advice. you know the people in your life better than randos ever will, so above anything else i would say to go with your gut here. if it tells you that coming out now wouldnt be safe, then unfortunately i think it probably would be in your best interests to just keep your head down until youre able to set up a life and support system outside of them, so that if things do break bad it doesn't fuck you over.

that being said, that doesn't mean you have to bottle it all up either, nor does that mean all hope is lost for having a relationship with those people afterwards.

first, try to seek out others like you in your life right now. im not sure how old you are but most of the people who've reached out from the quiz have been high schoolers so i'm going off that assumption, if you are in high school i would see if your school has a GSA you could join, or if that wouldnt be a possibility bc ur parents wouldnt let you go then you could try reaching out to the teacher that runs it to see if they have any advice or could help you connect with other queer kids outside of the club. if you can't do that then you may still be able to connect, i know the stereotypes abt people "looking gay" are shit but there are also legitimately queer style choices that people make on purpose because they want to look queer (myself included), and while openly saying "hey you look gay lets be friends" would suck, ill let you on on the secret code to tell queer strangers you recognize their vibes: "omg i love your hair". and obviously randos can give that compliment too but im being 100% serious when i say that if that comment comes from Another Queer and is said in the "im gay too please notice me" way, it hits different, idk how to explain lmao. or "i like your pins" if they have pride stuff. really it's just you pointing out the Thing that made you go "you seem like me," and then complimenting it to show the other person youre cool with that stuff. and obv follow the other persons vibes, if theyre just like "oh thanks" and then turn back around then just move on w ur day, but if theyre like "omg i love your hair too!" then *hacker voice* youre in

anyways on to the second part which is all hope is not lost:

you may not be able to come out to these people now, BUT you may be able to start laying the groundwork to do it further down the line. i'm not saying start religious/political arguments, obv do whatever you need to stay safe, but you can start just. nudging them in the right direction. like say your parents are ranting about something right on the line of anger abt queerness, like a guy wearing eyeliner or w/e, you could drop a noncommital "eh i think it looks cool but i get it" or "i mean its kinda just facepaint when you think abt it tho right?" or another example i cant think of right now to just kind of. push the needle a little bit. and with this kind of thing it's very important you dont go into it expecting immediate change, like. this is you planting the seeds so that in six months when theyre trying to fall asleep theyll be like "....huh. i guess it kinda is just like facepaint, so. why is facepaint ok for men but makeup isnt" yknow? so if you go into it with that being the expectation, the things you say hopefully wont register as confrontational or disagreeing, but just as like. the noncommital hand wiggle gesture. it can take a long time for ideas to take root in people so it makes convos much easier when you remind yourself not to expect immediate change

now obviously your mileage may vary, if you think even that would be too dangerous then absolutely feel free to disregard and just do your best not to let the things they say get to you. and either way remember that you WILL have your own life away from them someday where you get to be yourself, and it is never ever too late to start transition. no matter how long you have to stay with them to set up your own life, it is out there, and one day you will get to a point where whether they cut you off or not, it doesn't matter. you'll get to choose your own clothes, religion, hair style, makeup, house decorations, food, schedule, the world will be your oyster. so when it gets hard, hold on to that. i believe in u 💕

[tinywitchgoblin]

hello ! could i request a bad batch ship please? ive never done one of these before so bare with me 😭

im afab (she/they/he), 5"2 and quite curvy, slim waist and large hips / thighs. i have greeny-blue eyes and dark red hair (dyed) thats around bust length (and a straight fringe), along with 2 ear lobe piercings (on each ear) and a septum piercing. i've got an gothic / alternative sense of style, like wearing all black with fishnets, legwarmers, bold makeup (like with heavy eyeliner and eyeshadow), large spiky earrings and chunky boots, etc.

im an artist ! i LOVE drawing, especially characters / people because i just love the way humanoid characters look (like the human form and stuff). my favourite part on the human body is the back and shoulder area - its really weird but i just love all the details like the shoulder blades and muscle definition etc. i also love music and travelling ! my favourite genre of music is drum and bass (along with metal / nu metal) !

i also have autism and i stim with my hands and mouth a lot - like shaking my hands or tapping my collarbone. when im comfortable with someone i literally just meow or like do "mow/mrow" sounds at them randomly. im so embarrassed by it but i can't help it because ive been doing it since i was young 😭 i hate large crowds and start to panic if there's a lot of people around me and we're in a small space (like a shop for example) and i have the need to leave the place immediately. i also cannot deal with any sort of confrontation or if someone is to start raising their voice at me because it makes me tear up and i'll sometimes cry bc of it. like i get arguments happen but you don't need to shout at me, man 💀

when you first meet me im super shy and quiet, but when you get to know me i do not shut up 😭 i will keep yapping all day about the things i like especially if it's my hyperfixation at the moment. romantically, im super physically affectionate (my love language fr) because i struggle to verbalise how much i love said person, so i just cuddle and smooch said person until they get the point lol. i also prefer to hold someone's arm (although i don't mind holding hands !) as it makes me feel secure and i like squishing said persons bicep (not hard and if they're okay with it ofc ^^) bc squishy,, and it feels comforting in my hands.

sorry theres so much here lol

ty :) ❤️

I'm so sorry this took me a whole ass month to answer but thanks for being patient!!

I ship you with...

Wrecker!

Wrecker absolutely loves physical touch. It's one of his biggest love languages (along with making/sharing food). One of his favorite things to do is pull you into his lap whenever you're not doing anything specific and just relax. His brothers aren't super into a ton of physical affection, so when you and he started dating (and maybe even before), he gave you all of the hugs and cuddles! It means so much to him, and you really like it as well.

As for your stimming, Wrecker doesn't see anything wrong with it. He just knows you're different, and that's okay! He was a bit confused about the meowing at first, but once you explained it to him, he never really mentions it anymore. Not in the ignoring sense, but just in the sense that that's part of who you are, and he loves every part of you. If you're into using stim toys, he'll ask Tech to make you a couple of them to help you get out some of the latent energy, and if not, he'll do what he can to help you stim in whatever ways are most comforting to you.

Wrecker is relatively social by nature, but he understands that you get overwhelmed very easily. You and he have developed a system that allows you to non-verbally communicate to him that you need to go somewhere private and relax. He's super protective of you, and when you find yourself in a stressful situation, he will do his best to keep you safe (both physically and otherwise). And if someone raises their voice at you, by god, he will stand there menacingly until the other person backs off, and he'll hold you and make sure you're okay once they leave. Again, he wants to make sure you feel safe, because he loves you and doesn't like seeing you hurt.

-

Thanks for reading! If you want a ship request like this, drop it in my ask box (but be warned, it might take a while for me to get to it- oops), and don't forget to reblog <3

[shingia]

can i req suna,, akaashi and iwa (and anyone else u want!!) getting jelly abt the s/o hanging out with another guy and being touchy (like the playful smacking or smth) without knowing the guy was their brother? angst to fluff bc i want the ✨ pain ✨ if u dont wanna its fine too,,

thanks bby,, love ur works so much! stay safe and healthy 😫💗

✗ HQ BOYS GETTING JEALOUS OF A GUY WITHOUT KNOWING HE’S YOUR BROTHER ✗

me receiving a request : 🥰 the request including suna :🤩 tysmm bby stay safe and healthy tooo <3

-> suna, iwaizumi, akaashi

-> angst to fluff

-> reblogs help a lot <33

— SUNA

• he hadn’t asked many questions when you told him you couldn’t come over to his house in the afternoon. but now, as he was replaying your snapchat story for the sixth time, he really wished he did

• maybe if he had insisted on coming with you, you wouldn’t have let this guy - that he had never seen, for the record - act so touchy with you

• was it his fault for not making you feel special enough ? to the point that you preferred the company of other men rather than your own boyfriend’s ?

• just the thought of this was enough to make a few of his usually well-hidden insecurities bubble up - most of them due to what his friends always joked about « suna doesn’t care enough to be in a relationship, they’ll all run away after a week ! »

• so yes, suna was hurt, but you didn’t have to see that. your opinion on him was the only one he cared about, he didn’t want to tarnish it. well... your opinion and his little sister’s, who burst into his room as he was about to watch your story for the seventh time to tell him that « someone’s at the door ! »

• not feeling like getting out of bed, it took him a few minutes to drag his feet to the door before finally opening it. and of all the people he could have expected to see, you were the last of them

• « surprise ? » you smiled as you let yourself in, not noticing the surprised look on his face as you greeted him with a tight hug. « i felt bad for cancelling our afternoon together, so i asked my brother to drop me off »

• you weren’t even done talking that suna had already recognized the man in the car that was leaving his driveway. his embrace immediately softened, and a smile crept on his face as he felt all his doubts vanish in a second

• « nuh-uh, don’t take your jacket off beautiful, i’m taking you out », he told you, determined to spoil you in the way he regretted not doing sooner

• at his words, his sister almost magically appeared next to you, coat in hand and ready to go. « you weren’t planning on leaving without me, right ? » she flashed you a toothless grin, grabbing both your hand and his to drag you two outside

• suna shared a deadpanned look with you, « of course not... » you both said in unison as she was already leading the way to her favorite ice cream shop

— IWAIZUMI

• iwa’s trust in you was infinite. but something about the way this guy had his arm playfully wrapped around your shoulders didn’t sit right with him

• his practice had ran late and he was exhausted. but he had promised you he would pop over to the birthday party of your childhood best friend, knowing how much it mattered to you

• but your behavior looked an awful lot like an attempt at making him jealous... and it was working

• was it your way of letting him know that you two weren’t working anymore ? were you just too much of a coward to be clear about it ? he hated to think about you that way. and most of all, he cared about you too much to not step in

• « ok now you got my attention » he told you after pulling you to the side. « if you want to tell me something, go ahead, i’m listening »

• still trapped in the euphoria of the moment, you didn’t really understand how upset he was. but maybe it was for the best, because it allowed you to defuse the tension lightheartedly : « i can’t believe i forgot to introduce you ! » you let out as you dragged him back to where your brother was still standing

• his jaw still clenched, iwa couldn’t even bring himself to shake this stranger’s hand, as friendly as he looked. at least not until you spoke your next words : « he was actually telling me how excited he was to finally met his future brother-in-law ! »

• iwa’s lips slightly parted in confusion, you could almost hear the cogs turning in his head over the music. brother? well that explained a lot of things

• « h-hi, sorry i was... miles away » he apologized before finally shaking the hand your brother was holding out to him

• but once the surprise had passed, another word stuck with him : brother-in-law ? as in « my sibling speaks so highly of you that i’m willing to let you put a ring on their finger even though i have never met you yet » ?

• well, it was good to know that your brother agreed with the plans he’d had for you since day 1...

— AKAASHI

• it was not unusual for akaashi to think that maybe he was not good enough for you. but being actually jealous was a first for him

• he had promised himself to never be too overprotective of you. but the facts were here : it was 3am and the only thing keeping him up was this unknown feeling of pure jealousy

• if he had not been in such a hurry when he witnessed your lighthearted banter and playful fighting with this man in the afternoon, he would’ve come up to you. introduced himself. maybe asked a few questions. if

• suspecting that this unpleasant feeling would not go away unless he talked to you about it, akaashi found himself dialling your number in the middle of the night

• used to his thoughts polluting his mind at unpredictable hours of the day and the night, your ringer was always on. which is why you picked up after only two rings

• « hi angel, i’m sorry to wake you up, i just... » he started, the clarity of his tone letting you know that he had not slept a wink. feeling his hesitation, you were quick to reassure him « it’s ok keiji. what’s going on ? »

• « who were you with ? i mean- this afternoon ? i don’t think i’ve ever met that guy and i was just wondering if... maybe i should ? »

• sitting up straight on your bed, you felt a weight being lifted off your shoulders. if this was the only thing keeping him awake, he should be able to fall asleep in the following minutes. « i was with my brother. but i understand why you were confused, it’s a normal reaction so please don’t blame yourself for that, alright baby ? »

• the gasp you heard on the other end of the line made you chuckle. akaashi’s voice was much less tensed now : « well in that case, yeah i should probably meet him... if you’re ok with that »

• « i’m more than ok with that » you smiled, placing your phone down on your pillow « wanna stay on the phone for a bit ? »

• « that’d be nice », his voice sounded sleepy already, especially above the familiar sound of his covers being pulled up to his chin

— ATSUMU

• how could he put that in words ? he didn’t even know if he was allowed to be jealous because he knew how often you had to see him deal with his many fangirls

• and that was actually what bugged him the most : that he might have already made you feel as shitty as he was feeling now

• but atsumu wasn’t the type to sit down and seriously open up about his feelings. besides, it was much easier to look like a needy boyfriend rather than a vulnerable one

• so he resorted to what he was best at : physical touch as a way to get your attention

• sneaking up behind you, he didn’t give you any warning before wrapping both his arms around your waist and pressing his chest on your back so much that you almost had to bend over

• he really hoped you would be perceptive enough to understand that he wasn’t just being clingy, but in need of a lot of reassurance. and luckily, it was quick to come :

• « tsumu, let me introduce you my brother » you chuckled, understanding how and why he had been mistaken

• one hand still on your waist, he used the other to greet your brother. atsumu did not really seem fazed by the news. of course he was relieved to know that he had nothing to worry about, but this little experience had still been very eye-opening to him

• after your brother had left to give you two some privacy, tsumu’s grip on your waist tightened, but in a softer way

• « ‘m sorry if i ever made ya cry » he let out, completely out of the blue. you didn’t really understand the meaning of this, but it didn’t matter. your hand found its way to his cheek that you brushed lightly with one finger, admiring the how it was slowly turning red. « being jealous sucks... » he added.

• « it does », you approved, giving him a quick peck on the nose. « but there’s nothing and no one that you should worry about, i promise »

• a fond smile lit up his face. you looked sincere, and he really needed to hear that right now. quick as ever, his hands left your waist to come and rest on your cheeks. both holding each other’s faces, you stared at the other for a few seconds, wondering which one of you would give in to a kiss first

TAGLIST : @toworuu @catwithangerissues @miyumiya @livy384 @k0u-minamo2 @fullsundear @hsjvwq @kelsuuki @hiraeth-z @velvetvirgos @kirishimas-manly-eyeliner @47meow @japanesevenom @geektastic84 @noir-blanches-blog @idontlikeyourjob @seiri-ami @atiny-grl-with-luv @admiringlove @nachotrash @kellesvt @aintyourholy @Moonlaeli @catchmewiddershins @duhsies @devilgirlcrybabiey @crystal-lilac @ijustwantfreenetflix @mimaki @maitenight

[thecoloursdontshow]

sambucky as parents with a teen bc i love them (alternate title: im projecting again)

they both freak the FUCK out when they their kid is actually growing up and sarah is the only who could deal with them and the fact that her niece is growing up because at this point shes done the like twice now. its also very amusing to watch captain america and the winter soldier have a breakdown because their kid is growing up and sarah is like “yeah thats how that works” but they are not having it because “OH MY GOD SARAH THEY BOUGHT EYELINER???” and sarah needs breaks every hour because oh my god. 

The avenger become aunts and uncles and it is the most wholesome thing ever. Bruce and peter would help them with their homework. Thor and valkyrie tell stories from asguard. Wanda watches sitcoms with them, and they have long talks when either of them are stressed out. Carol and hope teach them how to fight, much to the dismay of sam and bucky. Strange and them team up and try to (and succeed, mind you) prove sam and bucky wrong. (ight its time to be SAD)

Imagine, if you will, they have a daughter, and the daughters name is natasha. She never really knew where she got her name from, only whispers of natasha romanoff. She saw her name, heard her name at school, but never really knew who she was. Why she was named after her. So, one day, she asked sam: “dad, where did my name come from?” and sam sits her down, and slowly, he explains who natasha was. How she led the avengers in a time where no one really knew what was going on. Who she was to sam, and who she was to the world. Sam doesnt go into her past too much, just that it was bad. When sam finishes, his voice is as quiet as a whisper. Natasha smiles softly at him, shuffling closer to him, and wrapped her arms around him. “I promise, i’ll do her name justice.” and sam falls apart. Because sam knows she will. He knows that nat would absolutely love this kid. This kid with warm brown eyes and long, dark brown hair that she so desperately wants to chop off and dye blue. This kid who always has a joke or quick remark on her tongue. This kid who cares so much. This kid who sang in the shower, and sang with her father (even if bucky was forcing her to). This kid who never gave up, who got back up on her own since she was 4 years old. This kid, who sam would give his life for, who sam would never forget. Who natasha would absolutely adore. Now, natasha gets little stories about her namesake from clint, and yelena, and scott, and rhodey, and pepper, and her dads. At first, it hurt. It hurt so bad. But, when yelena started telling a story from when they were kids, and natasha smiled wide, her eyes crinkling up. Her laugh that was so innocent, so pure. And yelena smiled too. And it was okay. 

SORRY ABOUT THAT LMAO. had to get my daily dose of natasha romanoff feels. Anywho. 

Partners. Significant others. Thats when they realize their is grown up. Thats when they realize they dont a million years left with this kid. So they pull out all the stops. Baby photos, videos, old school work from like grade 2. Its glorious. They would be so embarrassing oh my god. 

But its not always like that. Bucky retired as soon as they adopted, but sam couldnt. He couldnt. So, when natasha (im sticking to it) grows up a bit, she only known as captain americas daughter. Only known as the girl with the empty seat beside her apologetic looking father at every play. And shes sick of it. She knows its irrational, but she just wants her dad. Thats all shes really ever wanted. One day, she comes home, her eyes rimmed red, and bucky tries to talk to her, but she races up to her room, slamming her door shut. Bucky freezes. He doesnt know what to do. Sams been gone for a week and a bit, and neither of them are taking it well. After an hour, she doesnt come down from her room. Buckys been pacing for the past our. He makes his way up the stairs, and knocks on her door. “Tash?” he hears a sniffle, and shuffling, and the door opens slowly. Shes red eyed, stuffy nose and bucky cant believe he let her hurt like this. “I just need him here.” is all she says, before crashing into bucky. He wants to break down right there, but he doesnt. He wraps his arms around her, until he decides on a plan. They settle on the couch, the star wars theme playing. They ordered pizza, and natasha fell asleep with her head pressed against buckys metal arm. Sam gets home a few hours later. He takes one look at the scene in front of him and realizes how much time he’d missed. How much of his daughter, of his family he had missed. He vows to make sure hes there. To make sure he doesnt miss anymore of the best part of his life.  

Idk what happened yall. I really dont.

[autismnation]

eddie munson hcs

he has adhd and autism

he wears eyeliner

he's transgender/ftm (his pronouns are he/they/vamp/it) and gay (mlm)

he paints his nails black

he has like a whole colony of stray cats that hang around his trailer because he keeps feeding them. he's named every single one and he sometimes lets them inside when his uncle's not there (wayne has zero idea this is happening). he also once saw a raccoon and tried to bring it into his cat colony but it hissed at him so he got scared and abandoned that idea

His uncle collects mugs so he gives one to him every birthday and that's why there's so many mugs hung up in his trailer

Eddie's fave type of stimming is oral stimming and he chews on literally anything, usually his fingers or lips, Steve's hand or his shirt. Steve bought him a bunch of chewellery. He also chews on his hair a lot and thats why he had it buzzed when he was younger

He struggled with severe depression and anxiety when he was younger because of the bullying and because didn't have much of a support system (only his uncle). He still struggles with it in present day but because he has more of a support system with his friends, it's a bit better

When he was at rock bottom, he used stealing as a coping mechanism (it made him believe he had control of his life when he successfully stole something) and he developed kleptomania. Somehow he never got caught by the police. His uncle found out though and helped him create better coping mechanisms

He's sooo clumsy it's actually a bit crazy. Like he trips over thin air. He's stupid though (affectionate) and doesn't care for any of his injuries so his friends always carry bandaids for him.

He also age regresses. Steve is his caregiver. Robin age regresses too so they hang out a lot

He hates the doctors because...obviously. Like why would he want this random person poking and prodding him with cold hands and when he goes it's like ??? What's gonna happen? ITS SCARY. Also what if he goes and they're like "oh you gotta have surgery" or something? It's terrifying. (I'm 100% projecting btw /lh)

I'm 100% projecting here too but he is terrified of getting blood taken because when he was a kid he got blood taken but  the doctor didn't do it properly and he got a massive bruise for weeks ://

He has really weird sleeping habits. Like he can sleep anywhere in any position like it's actually really bad though because his body always hurts because of it. He also murmurs and talks a lot in his sleep (nonsensical stuff) and often forgets to change into sleeping clothes. He does that thing where you put your laundry on your bed so you put it away but it just doesn't work cuz he just sleeps on the pile

He used to wet the bed as a kid for quite a while, like until he was 15 or something, but it started again after the Vecna stuff.

He also struggles with realising when he's hungry. He can only tell when he's starving. Like when you're so hungry you have no energy to get food to eat. Because of this, he struggles on non-school days because he doesn't have a set time to eat so he snacks a lot on weekends

He struggles with knowing when he has a full bladder too. Like he doesn't pee himself but he doesn't ever think "hey maybe I feel really uncomfortable bc I need to pee". Idk how to explain it. I'm projecting so if you know what I mean you know.

He struggles with the texture of a  lot of foods so he mostly eats peanut butter sandwiches or chicken nuggets. Yeah, he doesn't have the healthiest diet ever....

His first tattoo was a really shitty stick n poke. He covered it up with his bat tattoo

He also wants a Corroded Coffin tattoo but he wants it to be perfect so he's still deciding on the design

He can't understand when other people use sarcasm yet loves using sarcasm himself

Loves wearing rings bc fashion but as soon as he's on his own he takes them off bc of sensory issues

He flaps his hands and kicks his legs to stim. He also scrunches his face up. The first time he did it, Steve was worried bc it looked like he was in pain but nah, Eddie was living his best life

He got nicknamed freak bc autistic + adhd + trans + gay but also because he had a meltdown in class because of overstimulation (lights were too bright and everyone was talking too loud)

Eddie and Robin stim by smacking each other's hands (credit to corrodedcoffinkid & autisticmunson)

He's a really loud crier. He yells when he cries

he's a theatre kid. i think he likes naturalism the most bc he's a very good actor but he usually gets pushed into comedic relief roles (bc ppl want to laugh at him ://). but he’s also really good with physical theatre elements because he’s so creative that he comes up with ideas instantly. sadly he usually gets roles with little to no lines. he doesn't mind all that much because less time rehearsing means more time to spend on d&d and with his friends etc.

I think he would be EXCELLENT in a sad scene because of the aforementioned depression and the one time he actually gets a big role everyone is just fckin blown away by how great he is.

100% is the type to rehearse a really sad scene and then afterward crack the stupidest joke ever with tears still streaming down his face

he has a bridge piercing, septum piercing and snake bites. he also has his ears pierced but rarely wears then. he's thought about stretching his ears but decided against it bc he 100% knows he'll be impatient and rush it and rip his earlobes off LMAO

[dashielldeveron]

Viper VIII: Inter Vivos

*author slaps bumper sticker across ass that reads I BREAK FOR QUARANTINE* 

Summary: You have a thought that only Steve Urkel and black-out drunks can have: did I do that?

Warnings: swears, the law. Murder/death. Stupid internet comments.

Show (3719) Comments on “There is Nothing New Under the Sun, But You Are New in Your Conglomeration.”

skellingtonbabey: thanks for putting all of the *gestures vaguely* into historical context. no one’s ever bothered to explain this shit to me, especially in such simple and thorough language. it’s like every other resource i try to learn from is stylistically designed to make me more confused.

readyplayer69: Just because it’s from the 60s and is racist doesn’t mean that it doesn’t have intrinsic value based on the goal towards which it was working. You’re a fucking lunatic. I have a degree in political science, so I know what the fuck I’m about. Though some of the protests may have excluded the minorities you’re talking about, it doesn’t mean that they weren’t ultimately working towards good fucking policies for everyone involved. It’s not like they were doing anything important then anyway; white people had to be the mouthpiece for…Read More

volcanolesbian: bro have u seen the incels freaking out over this???? it got linked in their cursed forum and they SO BADLY wanted u 2 hate women now. like you can regress from being a feminist once you’ve woken up. they’re giving u shit bc you called out the racist terrorists who were active in their community lmao. i can post screenshots if u want. But bruv it’s like they haven’t read anything you’ve written before lol

mozARTsexandviolins: I get when you say that ingenuity spawns ideals for the greater good, but don’t you think tradition has its place? How do we know if the new can spawn the greater good? How do we judge ourselves? Who watches the watchers?

simpleplan2eatthedirt: cool cool nice nice.  protesting is awesome, but be sure to get out there to fucking VOTE, people!!! Here’s a link to register to vote.

EaterJohn: Hello. It is nice to hear from you again, Epiales. Always a treat. Very insightful commentary on modern and past protests. I didn’t know about all of the revolutions in Europe 1848. I’ve send this to my co, and it’s already sparked a good conversation about who we are as a protesting people as we stand in history. Again, sorry to bother you, but I was wondering when the next article in your “Aeneid Autopsies: Current Crimes Reflected in Ancient Times” series was going to be released? It’s my…Read More

horneyvulcanbasterd: @mozARTsexandviolins Is that a Star Trek reference? Bc if so the answer’s Starfleet Command lol

MrsKatsukiBakagou: epiales. you have watered my crops and harvested my fields. thank you for the food.

mightiestavengereatmyass: eat shit and die, commie scum. your just a hired propagandaist for the fucking alt-left, aren’t you? You have no right to be running your collum in a real newspaper or on this fucking website. sending u anthrax in the mail would be too cool a death for you. I hope your so-called terrorist groupsfind out where you live and fucking murder you in the middle of the night. fukcs like you are the reason the country is going to shit the police have a total constitutional right int aht jurisdiction to enter. They had a no knock…Read More

fuckyouit’sjanuary: @readyplayer69 [image attached] [image description: blonde woman with caption reading, “I can tolerate racism, but I draw the line at looting the local target]

saltnpepa!!diner707: Hi. I’m trying to cite this piece in an essay, but your publisher isn’t listed on your website. Would you suggest using the NYT as the source in my bib? If it helps, this is due new week; idk if this will run in the NYT by then. Thanks

“I’m sending someone on a grocery run this morning,” said Tom, thumbs tapping away on his phone, “Do you need anything? Want anything?”

You glanced up from your laptop, closing it as much as you could without the light dimming. “I think I’m good, unless you used the last of the shredded cheese at some point.”

“Shredded…cheese,” he said under his breath, typing, “You mentioned capri-suns the other day.”

“Yeah, but I can tolerate the nasty, new flavour. No rush. Here’s a wild idea,” you said, and you waited until he looked up from his phone, a couple of ungelled curls falling over his forehead. “What if—now, don’t dismiss me as crazy; hear me out—what if we went to the store ourselves?”

“Again, no.” Tom grasping his coffee by the round of the mug, despite there being a perfectly functional handle. “Stop pressing me for it.”

“I’m not asking to go to a damn Broadway play. I’m asking to go to the closest 7-11,” you said, jiggling your leg and then making a conscious decision to stop fidgeting, instead scooting your chair closer under the table so that the arms slid underneath.

Tom hummed, his eyes not leaving his phone screen, but when you didn’t continue, he raised an eyebrow as he scowled at you. “Broadway is shut down because of the bomb threat.”

“Fuck off; you know what I meant.”

“Viper,” said Tom, and he locked his phone to set it on his napkin. “Do you want to get assassinated?”

“The term assassination implies I’m getting murdered for political reasons instead of the copious other crimes you’ve had me commit. So, I invite it.” Put your hands on the table where he can see them; it makes you seem more trustworthy. “Does 7-11 have an open carry policy?”

“If it’s any consolation, the renovated office should be waiting for you when you return.”

“It’s not.” You lifted your mug to your lips. “Working from here only makes me feel like a damn bureaucrat. Like I have no stake in the matter. I don’t want to become detached from everything; I might make a callous decision and send people where they can’t come back.”

“Keep watching yourself. If you stay on guard,” said Tom, running his middle finger around the rim of his mug, “then you won’t stray from me.”

“I’m useless here.”

“Then maybe you should become accustomed to the idea of being useless.”

Swallowing, you stared down into your tea. “There’s only so much I can get done through answering emails. Not to mention I hate answering emails. That’s how you get more emails.”

“Harrison has been telling me that your schematics have been more thorough since you’ve been holed up in here.” Tom tipped his mug all the way back to get the last of his coffee. “You’re still being just as productive, if not more methodical.”

“Did you mean obsessive? I have—I’ve had too much time to think. I’d rather not be alone with my thoughts, if I can help it.”

***

You could only read so much before losing your mind. You could only deal with so many of the same exact problems over and over again for lower level soldiers. You could only chart so many stars. You could only read so much fanfiction (if your identity thief were tracking your phone, he’d probably be baffled as to why you kept reading fic for fandoms you weren’t even a part of due to the desire for new ideas).

You could only give Glory Pham so many excuses as to why you’re not with her in person at the Museum of Natural History.

Sucking in through your teeth, you hovered your fingers above the keyboard.

Dear Ms. Pham,

Glad to hear John Mulaney’s signed on. Next step would be to ensure de Blasio doesn’t directly interact with him, given their history. Perhaps I should proof his set beforehand?

Unfortunately, I regret to inform you that I cannot attend the briefing in person yet again. I am currently indisposed, seeing as I am currently in hiding at my hot boss’s house, due to how dead I might be should I leave it (thus the basis of its appeal). Not to mention that if you criticise my blazer choices again, I shall peel the skin off your perfectly made-up face. Get fucked; getting your eyeliner tattooed on was a hell of a decision.

You shook your head, backspaced the last few lines, and stretched towards the wicker end table to grab your glass of pink lemonade, and you stole a glance at Tom’s work as you did so. A couple of files spread across his white wicker lounger (two blue files [socials of the family], two green [recent bids], a yellow [Manhattan locations], and a brown [requests from politicians, upper East side]). The pink sticky-notes had your and his written exchanges and edits on certain papers, and his laptop was open, the screen dimmed, while he copied something into a notebook with his cell phone held between his shoulder and his ear, just listening to the computerised voice.

He had joined you on the back porch to work remotely, claiming he couldn’t go into the city today due to the absence of news on Zendaya—if any information arose, he’d said he wanted your diagnosis immediately.

You wiped your forehead with your sleeve as a sweat drop slinked behind Tom’s ear. Even Tessa wouldn’t run in the heat; she’d curled up by the porch railing, her tail slapping against her water bowl. In an experiment to see if she wanted to spend some time outside, you’d slid the glass door open for Trout, to which she turned around to retreat to the bedroom.

Not all of the clothes you’d ordered had arrived yet, so you were stuck wearing autumnal clothes with long sleeves. To exacerbate matters, you were constantly moving—jiggling your leg, tapping your fingers—you couldn’t sit still for very long anymore; you had taken to pacing the porch when you couldn’t concentrate on the stars.

(Once, Tom had come out at night to check on you, wiping the sleep out of his eyes and sitting in silence with you. He’d made you go to bed after a while, claiming you’d run yourself into the ground if you kept this restlessness up.)

When your phone beeped, the both of you jolted at the sound. Tom hung up on the robotic voice as you scrambled to your phone, and he bent your way. “Is it Zendaya?”

Biting the inside of your cheek, you shook your head. “No. Looks like it’s a jailbreak.”

Tom sighed, his shoulders heaving as he eased back in his seat. “Where from?”

“I don’t even care,” you said, letting your phone fall to your lap. You slumped back in your chair, shielding your eyes from the sun with your arm. But you straightened yourself again and checked. “From Central. They don’t even know who’s all escaped yet.”

“It’d be too much of a gift if New York City would fucking relax for five minutes.”

“It seems like it’s in more uproar than usual lately,” you said, sipping through the reusable straw of your pink lemonade. “Do you suppose it’s our fault?”

Tom took a moment to pluck his damp t-shirt away from his chest. “I don’t think we’re instigating. If anything, we’re simply reacting to chaos.” He stood up and stretched, raising his arms above his head—his biceps strained at the sleeves, and the hem rose above his v-lines. “Unless you’re doing something I don’t know about.”

Ah, casual suspicion. “You’ve caught me,” you said as he approached Tessa and crouched next to her, “I’ve been running a koi smuggling gig on the side.”

“Why koi?” He held out his hand for Tessa to sniff, and she readily accepted his hand for pats. “Are they hard to get?”

“I don’t know,” you said, shrugging, “but I’ve been wondering if they’d be able to survive in your grist mill pond. You look through that water straight to the bottom, nothing living in your way. Just rocks and old equipment.”

Tom sat against the porch railing with a jittery Tessa partially in his lap. “Should we get some?”

“Oh, fuck off, Tom,” you said, grinning, a sweat drop falling onto your mousepad as you shook your head, “You can’t entertain every little pipedream I have.”

“Watch me. What do you want for Christmas?”

You ducked your head, biting your lip. “Promise me something.”

“Provided it’s not my head on a stake, I will,” he said, scratching Tessa behind her ears and cringing a bit when she stretched to lick his face.

“Then we’re going in person to the pre-opening fundraising gala for the Gawain Diamond.”

Tom narrowed his eyes. “Viper.”

“Bitch, I got John Mulaney to sign on to do the opening monologue, and he’s probably gonna roast de Blasio again. I’m not missing that.”

Your phone blared an alert again, and both of you held your breath as you unlocked it.

“Got a list of prisoners who escaped. Small group. Delores, Larson, Duncan, Mays, Selvin,” you said, “There’s more, but I don’t know them. Tell us something important, by God. Anyway, we’re going. I didn’t say I was going alone, did I? You’ll be there. I’ll be safe, and you’ll be safe.”

His jaw shifting to the side, Tom stilled his hand on Tessa’s back, and then he lifted it to flick sweat off his neck. “How many of us maximum can you get in?”

“It’s a fundraiser for idiotic rich people; if there are too many people without a name, they’ll be noticed.”

“It can’t be just us.”

“Why? Afraid you can’t protect me on your own?”

“Now, don’t start that.” Tom herded Tessa off his lap and onto her outside bed. “I’m not falling for it.”

“Yes, yes, I’m fully aware you’re capable of ripping me in half,” you said, draining your pink lemonade, the airy suction coming through your straw (almost loud enough that you couldn’t hear Tom’s sputtering over it—almost—and his phone beeping). “Want me to get that?”

“Bring it here,” he said, and you snatched it while he sat on the railing, dangling his legs off the side.

“It’s,” you said, eyebrows shooting to your hairline as you read the little notification, “It’s a tweet from Zendaya.” You tossed it to him to unlock and leant on the railing next to him, arm grazing his thigh with a heightened awareness of how close you were to his sweaty, sweaty abdomen. No! No time to thirst. Friend time.

Tom unlocked his phone and held it at your eye level, turning it horizontally as he pulled up the tweet.

ZENDAYA (@ZendayaMedias): Felt cute. Might delete later.

[video]

Tom pulled up the clip, waiting for it to load. “Why didn’t she post it to instagram, then?”

“The finer details of social media are an enigma. Do I look like I know,” you said, and his thumb hovered over the play button.

He cranked the volume up before pressing play, having to try twice due to how slippery his fingers were. “I wonder if Haz has seen this yet.”

A vertical shot of a murky, grey sky from the bow of a boat and dark ocean as far as the camera can see. It pans across the starboard side, and this boat is the only one in sight.

Only the sound of waves striking the boat.

The camera tilts down. Zendaya’s writhing on the deck, furiously straining against rope bonds that line up the entirety of her arms and up her calves; she’s yelling furiously at the person behind the camera through duct tape.

Scuffed, black boots roll Z to the starboard gunwale. She’s still fighting, still shouting.

The camera trucks to the right; before, the pair of cinderblocks attached to her feet were concealed. It returns to her face. A glove grabs part of her hair to show the weights tied into it. She bucks up to headbutt the camera; he avoids it.

Tom clenched his free hand on his thigh. “We’re running another scan for that black-stubble bell jackass from her instagram; did we have any fucking leads at all? What’s his fucking motivation? So he slept with her, allegedly; did she say no to a second time? Doesn’t fucking merit—”

The boot kicks the cinderblocks off the boat, and the camera tilts down to follow the trail of bubbles.

It’s quiet.

But then the camera pans to portside, where the guy in the picture with Zendaya is similarly tied up, but he’s openly weeping and shaking his head. He’s got something drawn on his forehead in black marker. The cameraman steps closer to focus on it: it’s a circle with an upward curve resting on top of it.

He’s still wearing the bell necklace.

Then the cameraman backs away and raises a gloved hand, in which a gun is aimed at the other’s forehead.

The bullet goes through the circle, and the bell rattles as he’s kicked off. Fewer bubbles.

Then the camera tilts up to show off the boat’s surroundings: a black and barren ocean, as far as the eye can see.

When the video started to loop, Tom switched his screen off, his phone hanging loosely in his grip. You released of his thigh once you noticed you’d grabbed onto him, and the evidence of your touch faded as the fabric relaxed.

His eyes glossed over at the blank screen, and his mouth opened before closing again, running his tongue over his lower lip. Tom brought a fist to his mouth and furrowed his brow, his hand hardly concealing the growing tremble of his jaw.

You took a step away from him, rubbing your arms as you ducked your head. “I’m going back inside,” you said, hoping Trout felt like being clutched to your chest, “I’m cold.”

***

The next morning, your mouth felt heavy and dry. You sneaked out as the sun was rising to go hide in the woods surrounding Tom’s house, but you talked yourself out of it. He would make too much of a fuss if he couldn’t find you—but you could delay the inevitable conversation even further. Both of you had separated and kept to yourselves the rest of the evening. Kept quiet.

So you rounded the outside of the house. You’re not camping out in a fucking copse. When you reached the pond, you scanned it for a dry place to hide, but nothing really held any appeal, save for the rounded platform where the mill wheel used to spin, its spoke notches overflowing with moss. You managed to get to it after scrambling alongside the stones for a few minutes, and though it didn’t look like you could get down the same way, you settled against the wall, scraping some moss out of the notches so that your feet could rest more comfortably in them.

(Dr. Prine called ten minutes after you sent her the email. “Did you send me the correct article?”

“Yeah,” you said, rubbing your face wash onto your cheeks, “Considering it’s the only one I have ready, and I can’t bring myself to write anything. I tried. I just fucking can’t.”

“I don’t think you want this published at this point in your life.”

“I don’t fucking care. Whoever’s using my pen name probably knows who the fuck I am in general. Just publish it.”

“Honey,” said Dr. Prine, her voice softening (and fumbling, like she was holding the phone to her ear with her shoulder), “You should probably rethink this. It’s going to connect Epiales you back to Viper you. Get some sleep; eat breakfast. Call me back then.”

“It’s an appropriate article for the political climate.”

“Not for your personal life.”

“I don’t fucking care,” you said between splashing water on your face, “I don’t. It’s a good fucking article, and hopefully, it can affect people for the upcoming election. Fuck self-preservation. Send it to the Times already.”

“Did I dial the wrong number?”

“Hilarious, Dr. Prine. I know it’s not the smartest thing for me to do, but I can’t—absolutely can’t—write anything. I don’t know for how long, but for now, at least.” You blotted your face dry. “I’ve got to meet standard deadlines if I’m keeping my column. It’s really only dangerous if Tom reads it and makes the connection, and his brain is offline right now.”

And so Aeneid Autopsies: Current Crimes Reflected in Ancient Times, chapter twelve, “The Political Tradition as Mob Rule,” would be published on Saturday. It’s a little too in the know about the mafia, but hey, you had written it on a whim a month ago, and you were known for your extensive research, anyway. It most likely shouldn’t be too different from your other exposés, though they weren’t on topics that were deliberately misleading the public by what information was out there.

The more you thought about it, it was almost like you wanted to reveal yourself, wanted to get stabbed while you were sleeping, because there’s an overwhelming question rolling around in your brain like a mis-weighted shooter marble: is this—)

“It’s not your fault.”

With crossed arms, Tom leant against the stone wall, his leg bent back for his bare foot to rest flat against it. He glanced sideways at you, sitting on your mill wheel perch almost halfway across the pond, but closer to the far side than to him.

He’s got major bedhead, his curls just fucking flopping about out of his part, and even from where you are, his face burned red amidst wet tracks trailing down it. Still, thank God for little mercies—his biceps were fucking straining the sleeves of his white t-shirt, and those idiotic, blessed grey sweatpants were low on his hips.

You lifted your head from your knees but still clutched them to your chest. “You’re not going out, then?”

“Of course not,” Tom said, and he wiped his nose with the back of his hand. “Can’t be crying during a meeting, yeah?”

“Been boxing?”

“Yeah.”

“Did you get any sleep last night?”

“Not really.”

He ran his tongue over his lower lip and sighed, and then he slid his hands into his pockets, his eyes glossing over while he watched the moss you’d picked off float in the pond.

You’re not going to fucking cry. Tom came out here for a reason. He has a purpose. All you have to do is wait.

Eventually, he said, “You’re avoiding what I said.”

You tilted your head.

“Listen, I know you’re beating yourself up about it. It’s not your fault this happened. None of this is your fault. Hey.” Tom tapped the wall, the travelling reverberations making you look up at him. “Whoever’s doing this is doing it of their own volition and not because of you. You hold no culpability for this.”

“Bruh,” you said, “One of your best friends is dead, and you’re comforting me? I thought I was the masochist.”

Tom scowled, his brow furrowing. “Viper—”

“I can’t interact with someone without putting them in danger, at a disturbingly high rate. You want me to enumerate where I’ve stuck my nose in not my business and people have gotten killed? Senator Hernandez, Isadora,” you began, holding up two fingers, “The nine men guarding Isadora, Maccabruno, Polson—”

“Don’t you dare do that to yourself.” Tom took a step forward, his foot almost curving into the pond. “You didn’t use the knife. You didn’t pull any triggers.”

“Yeah, but I sent them there. And a good many of them went because it was their job.” You sneered and propped your chin on your knees again.

“And it’s part of your job—”

“Yeah, whatever. Your friend is dead, and I have no home. I’ve stopped contacting the few people in my circle on the chance that they get dragged into this—Grace, Adrien—he’s the lights specialist guy, in case you don’t remember—I’ve got to email Glory, but that can’t be helped. And Dr. Prine only—fuck,” you said, dragging your hands down your face. “I don’t want anything to fucking happen to Dr. Prine. Or your family, for that matter.”

“Everyone not involved in the business is currently in hiding upstate,” said Tom, eyes narrowed as he glared at you. “If you like, I can ensure the same—”

“Stop acting so damn calm, Tom.” You let your legs dangle off the platform, hands clenching the edges. “I don’t have any strings left to pull. And fucking hell, I know that it would be extremely and absurdly conceited of me to believe that this series of crimes is aimed specifically at me, because how deluded, how arrogant could I get—but goddammit, this stuff feels a little too personalised. It feels like this person knows me.”

Tom clicked his tongue. “Don’t you think it’s worth something that Glory Pham has been left alone? He knows how to get into Crosscreek, yet Glory hasn’t been touched. Is that not worthwhile?”

Your eyes watered, but you ducked your head so that he couldn’t see—but you released a dry sob (Fuck! Now is not the time for crying! Now is the time for being badass! Frown, or something!).

Tom spoke so quietly you almost didn’t catch it. “Do you want to leave?”

God, no. But it would make you feel like less of a burden. “Let me find an apartment first.”

“No, not like that. Hey, V. Look at me,” he said, and he tapped on the wall again.

You wouldn’t. Not like this. Not when your nose was running and when you didn’t have a plan.

“Please look at me, Viper.”

Glowering, you raised your head, lifting your chin higher than normal to seem confident, and oh, God—his eyes were wide and gentle; he’s leaning as far as he can over the pond, still unable to reach you.

“What I meant was if you wanted to leave the mob.”

It rang through your head like a distant cathedral bell, chiming through a deserted town—but then you were farther, out on the mountains, still listening to faint clanging.

“You’d have to kill me,” you said, shaking your head, “Don’t you remember?”

“Fuck,” Tom was saying, sucking in through his teeth, and after glancing at the water, he started jogging around the pond.

“I swore. I bled. And then even after that—then you knighted me.” You inhaled sharply when he reached the stones you’d climbed. “I’ve let you down.”

“Viper, get the fuck down from there and come here,” he said, and he withdrew, winching, when he stepped on a sharp edge.

“We shouldn’t have met,” you said, looking over your shoulder at him, and Tom froze, his hand partially gripping a hole in the stone wall. “I shouldn’t have taken the job. I should have gone to a different city. I should have—”

“Wasted your life away in the shadows? Just shut up and get down here.”

“Ah! The fuck?” You swatted his hand away when it grazed the platform, and when he climbed up another step, you pushed yourself off the platform and into the pond.

The first thing that struck you was how quiet everything was once the bubbles dissipated, and then you noticed how clear the water was, even from within it—glancing down, you could easily see your feet treading water above the broken grist mill wheels that had sunken to the bottom.

Before you could take it in to feel the emptiness in your chest, bubbles filled your vision again—and then his hands were grappling for you, grasping at your clothes, and pulling you towards the surface.

“I wasn’t fucking drowning,” you said, sliding a hand back through your hair, while Tom shook his head to flick off excess water. “I was fine without—”

“I know you weren’t.” Tom gripped your waist tightly enough to be painful, and he slid his other hand up between your shoulder blades. “I know. You wouldn’t die on me, and I’m not letting anyone else lay their hands on you. C’mon, arms around.”

He guided your arms around his waist, and once you had a good grip (hands sliding up his back), he kicked off to swim to the stone wall, backing you into it. Your toes skimmed the bottom of the pond, but Tom kept your head above the water, his thumbs circling your hipbones through your wet clothes.

Tom closed his eyes, his eyelashes heavy with water droplets. “There’s no solution to this where you die, got it?”

“Shucks.”

“I mean it. Talk to me. Tell me what you can.” Tom let out a breath slowly, and he bent to rest his forehead on your shoulder. “Please,” he said once you tensed up, his breath hot through your wet shirt, “Won’t you let me in?”

(Fuck fuck fuck fuck his chest is flush against yours; he’s so warm, so damn warm all over, and the water’s chill only makes you want to cling to him more, fuck.)

“You won’t like me,” you said, tentatively lifting a hand to curl your fingers into his hair, pulling slightly, “I’m not whom I’ve presented to you. I don’t have it under control.”

“I don’t expect you to.” Tom turned his head towards you; his lips almost grazed your neck (you relish their warmth anyway). “You wouldn’t be human, otherwise.”

“I don’t know an awful lot. Some days it seems like all I do is guesswork.” You grimaced but kept the slim distance from Tom’s mouth. If he wanted to, he would. “I’m lost completely on whoever the fake Epiales is. I keep looking for a pattern in everything, even—even so far back as to—”

You stuttered. Tom had pressed his lips to the base of your neck.

“There’s no consistency,” he said, nuzzling his nose against the spot where your neck met shoulder, “but there’s got to be a larger plan. I get it. The whole case is like a hydra, and we’re chopping blindly at the heads.”

(Oh, my God, he kissed you? He kiss the neck? He?)

“Oh! I forgot to tell you.” Tom pulled away to look you in the eye, and your mouth hung open of its own accord—come back! “I made myself watch the video again.” His jaw shifted. “To see if I missed anything, and I did. This time, I recognised the symbol on the guy’s forehead.” Tom lightly traced it onto your forehead with his middle finger. “It’s a zodiac symbol. It’s the one for Taurus.”

You nodded, still not really thinking at full capacity. “Great. Another piece of evidence that I won’t be able to make fucking sense of. Goddammit. I’m so useless. Goddammit,” you said, dropping your hand from his hair into the water with a splash. “Tom, I don’t talk to my mother much anymore. She doesn’t know where or who I am, and to be honest, I don’t know who I am, either. I don’t know where the truth is.”

You nearly slapped him when you cupped his cheek, like you were desperate, like you had to be touching him, skin on skin, that instant. It’d be nice if he would close his eyes and lean into your touch, maybe kiss your palm, but Tom simply stared at you in shock, eyes wide, brows raised, mouth pinched.

Don’t tell him, you whore. You built this fucking kingdom with its walls and bastions so that you would be safe when the outer defences crumbled. You’ve set aside parts of yourself into neat little boxes so that you can throw any of them away at any time and escaped unscathed. Don’t you fucking dare screw that up. Tom doesn’t know about Epiales so that you can expose and destroy him if you’re on his chopping block; it’s insurance for when everything falls.

Bitch, since when do you want to be honest and raw and vulnerable around anyone?

You can’t let him in.

“You’re still a woman of honour,” Tom said, and—oh, God, oh, fuck—he’s easing his hands down your body, his chest pressed against yours again, and he’s sliding them down your thighs to hook underneath your knees, and he’s hitched you up against the wall, the definition of his muscles real and palpable through the wet clothes, warm, warm, warm—

“I should apologise,” you said, turning your head to the side while he steered your legs around his waist, “I can’t imagine what you must be feeling right now.”

“You can’t?” Tom shifted you upwards, and that’s it; your heat is directly against him; you can feel every pull and tensing of his tendons, and if he keeps moving the way he is, then you’ll—

“I’m so sorry for making this about me when Z was closer to you. We shouldn’t waste time on me; we need to be searching, arranging a funeral if we can’t find anything.” You scrunched your eyes shut.

“You’re deflecting.” Tom let out a shuddery sigh. “I’ve lost too many people. Don’t make me lose you when you’re right in front of me,” he said, and he pressed his lips right below your ear.

You flinched away on impulse but tried to relax into him, blinking profusely.

Tom pushed against you (not localised enough to qualify as a thrust), and he cleared his throat before pulling away from your neck. “Listen, please. Please.” He shifted your weight to one hand and gripped your chin with his freed one. His eyes flickered to your mouth before he moved to rest his hand on your cheek. “You’re invaluable. Irreplaceable. You are no burden and are not at fault.” He clenched his jaw. “But I know you’re keeping something from me, and I will make the answer fall from your lips soon.”

Your own chin was shaking, and he was too close. If you put aside separate-self-as-insurance for a moment, let’s consider Tom did find out about Epiales. Would he control you through it? Would he use you to influence those he couldn’t reach? Would he grab hold of Dr. Prine? He might squeeze your life and time through his fist, and your freedom would be gone. Epiales was your freedom, your space to create and connect.

He was too close.

“You’ve got to promise not to hate me,” you said, and when he raised an eyebrow, you made your decision to lean in.

“No,” he said, and—and your lips met his cheek.

He’d turned his head.

After all that, he’s going to turn his head?

“No,” he said again, taking your chin again and leading you away, back to leaning against the stone wall, “I don’t want our first kiss connected to the memory of mourning. I can wait a bit longer.”

Tom released your legs, letting them sink. “You once told me that if you let yourself be vulnerable, you didn’t want an audience. I think,” he said, frowning, “I think you still see me as an outsider. As a member of that audience. And again, you said that you didn’t want it if it weren’t real.” He stepped away from you entirely, and he started wading towards the edge of the pond. “I’m going to hold you to the same standard. I’ll wait until you’re ready to be real with me.”

Tom slinked out of the pond, flicking away what excess water he could, and he squinted into the sun on the horizon. He shook his head, water flying, and he glanced back at you and scoffed. “Easy, sweetheart. No need to wear your heart on your sleeve now.”

His voice trailed off as he rounded the corner towards the door.

The sun is rising, and you feel rather cold.

***

inter vivos: between the living

***

taglist: @hollandroos @madmadmilk @parkerroos @parsleysbaby @z-ukos @pparkerwrites @lunamyangel @stealth-spiderr @presidentbttrflyfreak @paradoxparker @bi-writes @astronomyparkers @infamous-webhead @laurfangirl424 @softspideys @gryffinpuffs @plethoraofpuppies @laucontrerasv @shootingstarsaretearsofheaven @spiderboytotherescue @cassiopeiaskies

[extremelynormalblog]

Okay so

Obviously Andy/Quynh is The Angst OTP of DOOM here, but also--Andy/the pharmacist! It could be a romance thing or maybe Andy could Make a Friend, or they could slowly develop a nice, simple friends-with-benefits thing on the side of whatever crazy thing Andy’s got going on.

[SPOILERS BELOW]

Or read it on AO3!

Like, imagine how many times Andy is going to visit that pharmacy now that she has to take care of her body/health for the first time in millenia. The last time she had to seek a cure for something, the prevailing medical theory was all about balancing the humours, and she hasn’t really kept track since. Other things were on her mind.

Also? Andy is OLD.

The first time she goes back, Andy wanders aimlessly in the aisles for a while because the pharmacist is busy with a client, and then she keeps idly browsing after the client leaves, glaring at the pharmacist until she FINALLY takes notice and comes over.

“Hi! I thought it was you, from the stab wound, no?”

Andy nods.

“Did it heal okay? Are you safe, do you need something?”

Andy mumbles something. She hasn’t been embarrassed for centuries, and she knows it’s idiotic, but. Nothing really *new* has happened in centuries for her to be embarrassed about, either.

“What?” the pharmacist asks.

“My back.”

“Oh! Did something happen? Should I take a look, are you bleeding, do you need me to call someone?”

She’s starting to look worried, so Andy has to swallow her pride and say: “Nobody hurt me, okay? I didn’t do anything. I just woke up like that, I don’t-- I don’t know what’s wrong.”

And then the pharmacist’s face relaxes and she nods understandingly, and guides Andy towards the anti-inflammatory creams and heated patches, and explains that she should try to get a physical therapy appointment perhaps and also think about doing regular stretches or taking up yoga.

“--back pain is very common at your age,” she’s saying, and Andy startles, but the woman continues, like, “--I mean, you must be, what, late thirties, early fourties? Oh god, I hope that wasn’t--I mean, not that you look--I mean, you look--really good, whatever your age is.”

Andy relaxes again -- as much as the twinge in her lower back allows her to, at least, and the pharmacist’s blush doesn’t escape her notice. Interesting.

And so she takes all the stuff the pharmacist recommends and leaves, but the next time something undignified happens to her body that isn’t caused by like, people trying to actively kill her, she goes back.

“I have this ringing in my ear.”

“Ah? That happens sometimes. Do you know what caused it?”

“C4.”

“Is that a band?” At Andy’s blank look, she continues: “Anyway, it’s probably tinnitus, it’s fairly common after being exposed to loud noises but it should go away on its own in a few days.”

Andy comes back a few more times with similarly mortifyingly mundane complaints -- she has a burn that blistered and she’s not sure what to do about it (”Here’s another cream for your collection! Just make sure it doesn’t start swelling and go see your doctor immediately if you get a fever!”); the back of her throat has been itchy for a week and she feels like she’s slowly going mad with it (”Pollen allergy, you too, huh?” the pharmacist says, pointing at her own face. Her nose is red and her eyes are slightly glassy. “Did your script expire? Here are some anti-histamines to tide you over until you can get it renewed! Or I could give your family doctor a call for you?”); she caught a cold, which was annoying enough but nothing she needed medical advice about, until she sneezed and now she can’t turn her head all the way (”All I can do is give you some more anti-inflammatories, I’m afraid,” the pharmacist--Celeste--says. Andy finally found out her name by accident when she overheard her make a phone call; she wouldn’t have asked, obviously. ”I can’t give out muscle relaxants over the counter anymore, but if it doesn’t go away...” “Yeah, see my doctor, I know.”)

Obviously Andy doesn’t have a doctor, or scripts, or a “Carte Vitale,” whatever that is.

(It’s the French insurance card, Celeste explains patiently, though she frowns a little the way she does whenever she says asks something and Andy blanks -- no, she doesn’t have a French social security number, or a European Health Insurance Card; yes, she knows she could get it all covered but she will pay it out of pocket, yes, in cash please, thank you.)

There’s something appealing about the way Celeste just listens to Andy talk about what’s bothering her this week, without judgement and without ever pushing for details.

(And there’s mostly always something, now, a pain somewhere or some bodily process that isn’t doing what it should, which is insufferable frankly, how do regular humans stand it?

“No choice, mostly,” Celeste says, matter-of-fact, the day Andy voices the thought half to herself as she pays for the latest haul of painkillers. “But as my grandfather used to say: if I wake up someday with nothing wrong with me, that’ll mean I’m dead.”

She shrugs, like pain and illness and death are just facts of life, which for her they probably are, Andy knows. She doesn’t know if she hopes to have time to get used to it, or not.)

And then one day Andy finds herself pushing the door of the pharmacy when nothing is wrong, just because she thinks it would be nice to have a chat with Celeste for a minute after the crazy month she’s had, just fifteen minutes of normalcy, and Celeste is about to finish her shift so she invites Andy for a drink, like “Oh hey, by the way,” smooth in a way that’s obviously taking effort on her part, and Andy sees right through it but it’s really quite cute.

Andy doesn’t find many things cute.

So they go for a drink, and then Celeste says, “Listen, you obviously have some--stuff going on with your life, but I thnk I’m reading this right, and so maybe you’d like to come home with me? It doesn’t have to be complicated.”

“Uncomplicated sounds really good right now,” Andy says.

She follows Celeste to her place, and just as Celeste is about to open the door, she turns and says: “Er, this is awkard but you’re not a serial killer, right?”

And Andy laughs, startled, and threads her hand into Celeste’s hair and kisses her, right there on the doorstep, and then she whispers “I promise” into Celeste’s ear, even though technically the definition probably suits her pretty well.

And after, once they’re both breathing hard from the fourth round and Celeste’s bed is a complete mess and Celeste’s eyeliner is smudged all over her face and also Andy’s, she looks to Andy for a second before bursting into laughter & wheezing out: “Now there’s an itch I can always take care off!”

And Andy went off puns somewhere in BC times so she just rolls her eyes, but once Celeste’s head is on her shoulder, she lets herself smile anyway, like, ugh, humans. They’re so dumb but sometimes they are quite good.

Hmpf.

The end!

[shels-kpop-main]

could you do either deacy or roger edging reader in public then like. overstimulating reader l o t s when they get home?? o wow.

I’m gonna do Deacy bc I’m deep in my John feels today. Dedicated to @rogerscupboard who is struggling just as much as me bc of this man 😂

A/N:  Y’all, I have no self-control. I’m not even sorry. This “blurb” took on a life of its own, and this monster is the result. RIP to all Deacy stans

Word Count: 1350+

Warnings: Smut hehe

“John…” Your voice was a breathy moan, and his name was all you could manage to say. Your legs were trembling, and starting to close around John’s hand even as he continued to pump his fingers in and out of you. John was concentrated on his work, though, and didn’t even look up at you.

“Hmm?” His hum was low and almost resembled a growl. It sent a shiver through you, and you gripped his shoulder tightly. You were wrinkling the fabric of his blazer, but he didn’t care. His eyeliner was smudged, but so was yours as your faced scrunched up in pleasure.

“I’m–I’m close,” you whimpered, digging a heel into the small of his back. John smiled to himself, biting his lip. His grip on your hip tightened, nails scraping the skin there.

“Yeah, love? You’re close?” His voice was a smug whisper in your ear. You nodded, moaning into the empty dressing room.

Suddenly, John pulled his fingers from you. You looked at him with eyes wide, but he was already wiping his hand on a tissue.

“Good.”

“What? Where the hell are you going?” You asked, annoyance creeping into your voice. But John just wagged his eyebrows at you, and left you there, shorts around your ankles and sweat on your face.

…

“Care to explain yourself?” You folded your arms and glared at John. He was setting down his bass in the hallway, and looked up at you with a mischievous grin.

You’d just gotten home, and it was well after one in the morning. But you weren’t going to call it a night until John finished what he started. And he knew that.

“I just wanted to see how much you’d let me get away with,” was his cheeky response. You walked to him, standing in the doorway to your bedroom. You kept your chin high, and your arms folded, and made sure to leave no extra space between the two of you. Sure he could feel the heat coming off your body.

“You’re really going to torture me like that?” You said it more like a statement than a question. John giggled to himself–an action that might have been cute if you weren’t so wired.

“John Deacon.”

That was all he needed to break. He broke out in a full laugh, and grabbed your hand.

“Alright, come on, then.”

He pushed you onto the bed, much to your excitement. You didn’t ask him what he was doing; you only peeled off your shirt and waited for him to climb onto you. Which he did, without losing a single second.

John hovered over you, biting his lip one more time before ducking down to take you by the lips. You reacted enthusiastically enough to make him moan in surprise, hooking your legs around his waist and grabbing his shirt almost aggressively. After kissing the breath out of you for a few minutes, John pulled back.

“John, please,” you whined, tugging on his collar. John just smirked at you, and scooted back to put himself between your legs. But you pulled on him in response.

“I don’t need your mouth, John, I’m wet enough as it fucking is.”

John’s eyes widened for a second, but he continued that annoyingly sexy smirk, and crawled back up to you.

“Oh, you really didn’t like my teasing, did you?” You could have slapped the smug look off his perfect face, but opted to use your words instead.

“Can you shut up, and just fuck me already?”

John tilted his head to the side in mock thought. You dug your nails into his jeans, hoping to spur him on.

It worked.

John reached down and yanked the front of your shorts, popping the button and lowering the zipper. Once they were off, along with your panties, he reached down and undid his own jeans. You shoved them down, allowing his member to spring free. You took it in your palm right away, and pressed it down into your center. John shifted forward just slightly, rubbing himself on your folds.

Once he had sufficiently spread your own wetness all over himself and you, John braced himself on either side of you. He looked down as you guided his tip to your entrance.

“Go on, then,” you told him confidently. “Fuck me.”

John pushed into you with such delicious force, you couldn’t help but let out a loud cry. And then he was fucking you, at an agonizing pace. You looked down at him, pumping in and out of you, his shaft already slick from your wetness. And it wasn’t enough.

“Faster, please,” you gasped, clawing at his back. “Fuck.”

John obliged, and bucked into you a bit faster, holding your gaze as you started to unravel. He continued like this for a few minutes, lifting a hand to massage your breast for a moment. But it still wasn’t enough for you, even as your moans raised in pitch.

“John, fuck,” you panted. “Fuck me harder.”

“So greedy tonight,” John smirked, reaching down to press his thumb into your clit. He applied the pressure just as he sped up the timing of his thrusts, making you open your mouth in a silent scream.

For several minutes, John was fucking you hard and fast, knocking the headboard against the wall in a loud series of thumps. You could feel that wonderful pressure building at your core, making your skin flush. John could see that you were close, and pressed a quick kiss to your lips.

“How does that feel, love?”

“So good,” you cried, “so fucking good, John. Don’t stop.”

You rolled your hips to the tempo of his thrusts, pushing him deeper into you every time. John pulled his hand from your clit to clasp your fingers, giving them a light squeeze.

“Do you want to come now, love?”

You looked up at John with a slight glare.

“You’d better not be teasing me again, Deacon.”

John chuckled, but maintained his speed. To push you over the edge, he reached down and pressed his index and middle fingers down on either side of your clit. Then, he closed the fingers, putting increased pressure on the sensitive bud there. That, coupled with a final few thrusts, had you screaming underneath him.

“Fuck!” he hissed, as he felt your walls clench around him. He leaned down and bit into your neck as he continued to roll his hips into you. You could feel your own warm release dripping down your inner thigh. But he wasn’t done.

“We’re not done yet, love,” he growled, and you could only smile, gripping his arms.

John knew he was close, but he wouldn’t let himself come until you were falling apart under him again. You hadn’t even come down from your first orgasm when John reached down again. But this time, instead of rubbing your clit, he pressed his palm flat to your lower stomach.

“Fuck.” The swear fell from your lips this time, as the increased pressure nearly blinded you. The heat bubbled up between your legs again as John pounded into you with renewed fervor. With his hand pushing down below your navel, his cock dragged along your front wall with a new intensity. With every thrust, you could feel him hitting that perfect, sweet spot inside you.

You screamed John’s name so many times it stopped sounding like a word. And your nails dug into his back so hard, you were sure there would be scratch marks tomorrow. He gave several more thrusts before releasing himself inside you. You could feel the wetness spilling from you as John slowed his pace, bringing you back down to earth.

Once you had stopped moaning, John slowly pulled himself from you. When he collapsed next to you, you noticed he was dripping in sweat.

It was the sexiest thing you’d ever seen. You rolled over, pressing a kiss to his neck as his arm went around your shoulders.

“I didn’t know you could do that,” you murmured, grinning up at him.

John exhaled, looking surprised at himself.

“Me neither.”

[honeyhopeful]

The Beauty Industry Profits on your Unhappiness

In 4,000 BC, historians traced the first ever beauty product - kohl eyeliner that the Egyptians used to create dramatic eye looks. Social media emerged in the 1970s when the internet really transpired in this time period. These days, the beauty industry and social media have seen immense growth. The beauty industry is appraised to be worth above 15 billion Euros, and social media is expected double in growth in the next few years - with Snapchat and Instagram being in the lead for most users.

The beauty industry has always had problems - especially when it came to women's' expectations. Feminist movements have always admonished the use of makeup - as most women felt rigid feminine expectations were being pushed on them. In recent years, makeup was seen in a different light - as a way for women to express their creative side, to feel good about themselves, and that despite wearing makeup - they should always be respected not as women but as people.

However, makeup and the use of social media is being viewed in a critical lens once again.

Social media is a double-edged sword in the 21st century; what was seen as a way to open doors, connect with like-minded individuals, research topics, and have educational discussions over an online platform. However, the curse that lies in social media is how accessible we have become - with a lack of privacy and a fast-paced environment, many users are feeling fatigued and dissatisfied with their social media use and accounts. Social media in its infancy celebrated creativity and open-ended dialogue between users from all over the world, but now with marketing changing along with our online communications - social media has quickly turned into a virtual department store where products, ideologies, and misinformation are at the ready.

The beauty industry and social media are now seemingly joined at the hip with more companies using influencer marketing strategy. Here is where the article gets ugly.

I'm not going to pretend that beauty ideal, marketing, and social media were not an issue before - I'm sure women in my generation back then felt the pressures as much as the women of this generation do - but back then, the beauty industry was not in our faces 24/7. I myself as a young girl barely read any magazine articles concerning beauty, and I wasn't interested in fashion, or any notion of performative femininity. And my friend would tend to agree, back then we were free to be kids. I didn't even start wearing eyeliner until I was seventeen years old, and even if I did wear eyeliner it was because my mother forced me to because it was a holiday. Even if you Google teenage celebs in the 90s to early 2000s and compare to teenage celebs in 2014 - 2018 - you can definitely see a difference in how the beauty industry and the beauty standards have changed. Young girls today are feeling more and more pressure to look a certain way that young girls in my generation ever did.

And the consequences of these societal expectations are causing teens to not only become prematurely depressed, but body dysmorphia, eating disorders, and self-objectification is on the rise.

Tweens, teenagers and young adults who are interested in makeup all follow at least one social media mogul - usually its' Kylie Jenner, Jaclyn Hill, Tati Westbrook, or any other celebrity such as Ariana Grande. The beauty of social media was that it allowed users to have complete control over their image and use promotion as their means to get funding. Each day, as I scroll on my phone, I often see women with long, incredibly toned legs, plump breasts, pouty lips, chiselled cheekbones, flat tummies and perfectly, rounded buttocks. The comments on each one of their photo and captions is fans wishing to look like them, often chastising their own appearance whilst praising their looks and ask for dieting tips, look tips, fashion tips.

As influencers share their dieting tips to look the way they do, this is seen as an honest way to connect with their audience and provide insight.

Unfortunately, this is not what happens.

The problem with the beauty industry is that it heavily relies on false representations and unrealistic standards. An Instagram model or even a well-known celebrity will post on their social media the secret to their physique and over-all look - and usually that "secret" comes in the form of detox teas that are filled with laxatives and dangerous ingredients, diet pills that have not been properly researched, or whatever snake oil they needed to push on impressionable young women. In reality, this is farther from the truth. Kylie Jenner was one of the celebrities to promote a laxative-based tea that can induce gastrointestinal problems later in life, but it is well known that Kylie Jenner, American socialite and TV personality, has been very open about retouching her photos, undergoing cosmetic surgery, and even has a personal gym and trainer within her residence. The same can be said for Kendall Jenner, sister of Kylie Jenner, who was recently criticized for becoming a spokesperson for ProActive, claiming it was the sole cure to her acne. Mostly because, a few short months earlier in 2018, Kylie Jenners' dermatologist explained that the cure for Kendall Jenner's acne-problem was a mix of well-formulated skincare products that were not ProActive and a laser treatment.

Los-Angeles based makeup artist Jordan Liberty stated on his Instagram stories that a models' job was not to look attractive, but it was to sell products by using her facial muscles and body. A models' job is to always promote merchandise - and recently the beauty industry has been taking models to promote unrealistic beauty standards and the quick fixes and products to attain that level of beauty.

The problem with the products that most models becomes a spokesperson for is that none of these products promotes a healthy lifestyle. As I have mentioned, many diet-based teas often have laxative ingredients that will damage the intestinal system and can cause serious dehydration to a young girls' body.  Not to mention, that by utilizing hashtags such as 'thinspo' and 'body goals', including the high amounts of re-touching and intricate makeup placements to allow the model to look thinner, healthy and well-toned, often leads young women to negative thought patterns, depression and body dissatisfaction.

In 2016, Fardouly and Vartanian researched the high-rise of social media and the correlation of body image concerns, and they found that users with more appearance exposure suffer a lot more from weight dissatisfaction, drive for thinness, and thin-idealisation. They concluded that social media does indeed impact teenagers appearance concerns. Dr Helen Sharpe was quoted by The Guardian and she stated that most teenage girls resort to unhealthy weight loss practices, such as skipping meals, smoking, and lower levels of physical activities. Social media such as snapchat and Instagram are even damaging to young women due to filters and facial-reorganising that occurs on both apps - thus giving an overall distortion of ones' appearance. Time Magazine even reported on Snapchat causing self-esteem issues, dubbed as 'snapchat dysmorphia', plastic surgeons are writing that there is a surge in clients wanting to look like their filters, with bigger eyes, thinner noses, and fuller lips. They describe such a trend alarming since those filters are meant to be an unattainable facial structure and the lines between fantasy and reality are slowly blurring. Plastic surgeons are also arguing that these apps are making people lose touch with reality, and are expecting to look perfectly prim in real life.

Accounts such as @celeblife have taken upon themselves to remove editing, plastic surgery and enhancements to show users before and after shots of the models in question. These accounts are not there to ridicule the celebs or poke fun at their bodily enhancement, but really it is to remind users that at the end of the day social media is just smoke and mirrors. None of it is real. The images that we see, the videos that we observe - they're all scripted, edited, filtered, and processed.

The Beauty Industry will let people - especially impressionable young women - fight to attain those unrealistic beauty standards - but all the industry is doing is leaving a sea of depressed young women in its' wake. All the industry does is prey on women's' insecurities and fear by pushing and pushing products to make them 'selfie ready' or 'life-ready'. I myself as a woman have often skipped going to social events because I didn't want to put on makeup, or wouldn't even call my friend using video because I wasn't wearing makeup.

Accounts like @celebself and beauty influencers like Samantha Ravandahl, a Canadian Youtuber, talking about what it truly means to sell product - citing that brands sent over scripts instructing her to claim that no other product has helped her as much as this one - Ravandahl stated that she could not cooperate with the brand because at the end, she did not want to lie to her audience. Ravandahl recently talked about no longer receiving product launches from brands and wants to return to her authentic, educational roots than constantly act as an advertiser. These accounts and outspoken, honest influencers may remind us not to be so hard on ourselves, and that at the end of the day, we're admiring a tiny, unattainable fraction of reality.

So, if you're a young girl reading this and you're worried about the way you look - I can't tell you “don't be” as we both know these things are harder to shake off, but I can only remind you that everything on social media is glamorized and even if you do not look like the models on Instagram - you're still beautiful, worthy of respect, intelligent and you should give yourself more time and credit.

[professional-anti]

Chapter Eleven: Magnus Bane

Okay, kiddos. Let’s go.

Jace and Clary leave the Brotherhood HQ, and Jace calls the cab driver a “brain-dead moron”. You know what, here’s the full quote:

Jace leaned forward and banged his hand against the partition separating them from the cab driver. “Turn left! Left! I said to take Broadway, you brain-dead moron!”

Oh, man, I’m so hot for Jace you guys. He’s so evil and cruel. I’m fanning myself. And the reason he wants to take Broadway? He wants breakfast. That’s it. It’s not a life-or-death situation. He wants fucking breakfast.

I like the idea of the diner they go to. A place where magical ppl can get together for some spaghetti. I don’t know if I’ve mentioned this, but I LOVE the idea of a secret (or not-so-secret) magical Manhattan. It’s just so unfortunate that Clare’s is so bad.

Clarinet asks Jack-Jack about Magnus Bane. Jack-Jack explains that he’s a warlock. Alec shows up. Clare is the foreshadowing master.

Clary freaks out about a guy in front of the store who looks like a demon. Clary. Girl. Come on. You know about this stuff already. It’s been like two days. Calm down. Apparently he’s a bouncer (for a diner) and is the warlock equivalent of a squib.

Honesty, I love this diner. They have blood on tap!!!! That’s so cool!!!!!! Plus, the people eating there sound way more interesting than our MCs.

[A] boy with spiky blue dreads was sitting next to a beautiful Indian girl with long black hair and gauzelike golden wings sprouting from her back.

Gotta love how the only people of color are basically set-dressing, though. At least Simon is Jewish, even with the messed up antisemitic crosses-burned-into-him dream thing. Clare’s Jewish, though, so of course she represents only herself and leaves everyone else out in the cold.

Alec shows up:

There was a kinetic, almost feverish energy to [Alec] that hadn’t been there before. Something about Jace sharpened him, brought him into focus. If she were going to draw them together, she thought, she would make Jace a little blurry, while Alec stood out, all sharp, clear planes and angles.

Oh, here it is. The “poor gay boy only comes to life in front of hopelessly straight crush” trope. Bc Alec has nothing better to do than obsess over Jace, a boy who is currently being rude to the waitress. Does Clare honestly not know how annoying rude boys are?

Isabelle and Simon show up. Apparently, even Isabelle’s perfume is evil:

Isabelle’s hair tickled [Clary’s] face, smelling of some kind of vanilla perfume. Clary fought the urge to sneeze. She hated vanilla perfume. She’d never understood why some girls felt the need to smell like dessert.

Haven’t I mentioned? Clary is the best girl to ever girl. Isabelle can’t even order right. Instead of getting something reasonable, like a large order of coconut pancakes (gross, Clary), “Isabelle fastidiously order[s] a fruit smoothie”.

Jace goes off to flirt with the waitress. Clary is confused bc the waitress is a Downworlder and aren’t they, like, totally evil? Isabelle and Alec assure her that the only kill the bad Downworlders. The rest they let live.

“Like letting spiders live because they eat mosquitoes, Clary thought.” Uh, not really. The Downworlders aren’t spiders. They’re just people, living their lives.

“So they’re good enough to let live, good enough to let live, good enough to make your food for you, good enough to flirt with—but not really good enough? I mean, not as good as people.” Isabelle and Alec looked at her as if she were speaking Urdu. “Different from people,” said Alec finally.

This doesn’t really seem like such a difficult question? Isabelle and Alec are just trying to cover up their bullshit.

“Better than mundanes?” said Simon. “No,” Isabelle said decidedly. “You could turn a mundane into a Shadowhunter. But you could never turn a Downworlder into one of the Clave. They can’t withstand the runes.”

So Shadowhunters judge others based on their ability to become Shadowhunters? Seems not at all racist. I’m so glad we had this chat. Jace comes back and explains that there’s just a shit-ton of hostility between Shadowhunters and Downworlders, so it’s not really racism.

Miracle of miracles, Isabelle reveals that Magnus Bane has invited the magical community of New York to his house for a party. God, I love parties.

There’s a whole day before the party, so Simon and Isabelle decide to go for a walk in Central Park. For some reason, this makes Clary feel a “murderous rage”. These emotions are seriously not healthy.

Back at the Institute, Clary goes exploring in the library and finds a photo of her mom and other Order of the Pheonix members-cum-Deatheaters Shadowhunters. Evil Giles shows up and points out Valentine, Luke, the Lightwoods, Jace’s mom, and himself in the picture. Clary mentions that Jace doesn’t look anything like his father. What could this possibly mean?

Honestly, the concept of a book about the children of villains isn’t terrible. It really just the complete ripping-off of Harry Potter that annoys me.

Oh, God. Clary gets back to her room (armed with a sleeping potion from Hodge) to see Jace looking at her sketchbook. I’m not even good at drawing, and my sketchbooks are still deeply personal. You can’t just look in someone’s sketchbook! It’s like a diary! WTF, Jace!

In fact, Clary tells Jace that it’s  basically a diary and that he shouldn’t look at it. This should be obvious.

Wait, I’m laughing:

“You could try not being charming all the time,” Clary said. “It might be a relief for everyone.”

BITCH, WHERE???

Jace offers to tell Clary a bedtime story. It’s the famous falcon story, the one that Clare used in her Harry Potter fanfiction. You know, where Jace’s father gives him a falcon to train, and when Jace loves it, his father kills it. Proof that Jace is Draco.

Somehow, Clary makes the connection that this story is about Jace only as she falls asleep. Whatever.

Isabelle wakes up Clary. Again, a famous moment:

[Isabelle] looked like a moon goddess. Clary hated her.

Bitch, Isabelle is a moon goddess, and I love her.

Yes, we have a makeover scene!! My secret weakness. I’m sorry, fellow patriarchy fighters. Makeover scenes are just so good.

Isabelle continues to be the coolest person in this book:

Her room looked as if a disco ball had exploded inside it. The walls were black and shimmered with swirls of sponged-on golden paint. Clothes were strewn everywhere: on chairs, spilling out of the closet and the tall wardrobe propped against one wall. Her vanity table, its mirror rimmed with spangled pink fur, was covered in glitter, sequins, and pots of blush and powder.

I want this room!

Clary gets a slinky black dress, fishnets, and boots. I want this outfit, too. When Isabelle does Clary’s makeup, Clary asks if Alec is gay. For some reason, this causes an intense shock in Isabelle:

Isabelle’s wrist jerked. The eyeliner skidded, inking a long line of black from the corner of Clary’s eye to her hairline. “Oh, hell,” Isabelle said, putting the pen down. “It’s all right,” Clary began, putting her hand up to her eye. “No, it isn’t.” Isabelle sounded near tears as she scrabbled around among the piles of junk on top of the vanity . . . She sat down on the edge of the bed, ankle bracelets jingling, and looked at Clary through her hair. “How did you guess?” she said finally. “I—” “You absolutely can’t tell anyone,” said Isabelle. “Not even  Jace?” “Especially not Jace!” “All right.” Clary heard the stiffness in her own voice. “I guess I didn’t realize it was such a  big deal.” “It would be to my parents,” said Isabelle quietly. “They would disown him and throw him out of the Clave—” “What, you can’t be gay and a Shadowhunter?” “There’s no official rule about it, But people don’t like it. I mean, less with people our age—I think,” she added, uncertainly, and Clary remembered how few other people her age Isabelle had ever really met. “But the older generation, no. If it happens, you don’t talk about it.”

Okay. So. I’m trying to judge this for when it was written. But, like. Is the homophobia necessary? It’s kind of like the ridiculous sexism in ACOTA/R. It’s a choice the author is making, for, like, no good reason. This is a case of a straight author needlessly torturing her gay character. But since this was published in 2007, I feel like this has been talked out, so let’s move on.

IT TURNS OUT THAT ISABELLE’S ANKLETS ARE WEAPONS. I LOVE HER. WE ARE GETTING MARRIED. WEDDING INVITATIONS TO FOLLOW.

Ugh, Simon short-circuits bc Clary is wearing a short skirt. Please calm down, sweetie. You’re embarrassing me. Wait, what is even going on here? Jace gives Clary a dagger, and, uh, this happens:

“I could give you a thigh sheath to put that in,” Isabelle offered. “I’ve got tons.” “ABSOLUTELY NOT,” said Simon.

I’m actually laughing. Lol for real. What does this even mean? Is a thigh sheath too sexy or something? Simon, can you chill for .2 seconds? This isn’t your body. Let’s all take deep breaths.

Clary puts the dagger in the outside pocket of her backpack because there’s no way having to unzip a backpack to get to the dagger could bit her in the ass during a fight. Then Jace reaches over and undoes her hair bc, uh, shipping moment.

I’m so grossed out by the fact that in a short while, they will think they’re siblings.

[jisokai]

hello there! I love your writings a lot ❤️ and I was wondering if you could do a HC of how the RFA + V/Ray would react to MC who is not confident about herself or comfortable when she doesn't wear make up even if it's just light make up? Like for example whenever her s/o is around she'd have to at least wear some light make up or she'd hide or something. (sorry if it's a weird HC, it's my first time requesting one..!) Thank you and I hope you have a great week! x)

hello and thank you for sending this!! i do this at school (until midterms and finals bc i just show up with no makeup and a the same hoodie for a week), so i feel you! just remember that youre beautiful no matter what you think!!

rfa+ray+v reacting to an mc who needs to wear makeup 24/7 to be confident

yoosung- he probably doesnt notice much if its light makeup, so he thinks its just how you look- until one time you make an off hand comment about smudging your mascara and start fixing it- ?????????? he so confused??- were having a late night cram studying session why are you wearing makeup?????- he says you should just take it off and not worry about it since its late- but you insist to fix it and he just frowns and asks if youre okay- you sigh and explain to him that you just dont feel comfortable without it and even just a little makes you feel better…- he tells you that he wont judge you!! youre beautiful no matter what and you should feel comfortable with him- he understands if you leave it on but he tries his hardest to remind you that youre so pretty and you dont need makeup!!

zen- he definitely notices it- being on stage so much, hes had light makeup himself so he can see the clumps of mascara and powders- but he doesnt say anything- he doesnt want you uncomfortable!!- but when youre getting ready for bed in the bathroom one night, he nonchalantly hands you a makeup wipe- you slowly take it, but dont actually use it- he looks over at you questioningly and does his little “hm?”- he asks whats wrong and you quietly explain that you dont like being seen without makeup- he just smiles at you and softly gives you a hug, saying youre beautiful and dont need to worry about such things!! but its not good to leave it on, and you should take care of yourself- hes gonna get you comfortable with him no matter what

jaehee- she notices- i mean she probably wears makeup too, so she wouldnt think anything of it- but she notices that you wear it all the time- she makes an offhand comment about it not being good for your skin and that you might want to take it off- you dont really say anything, and she can pick up on the fact that youre not confident- she just hugs you and tells you that youre beautiful!! shes explains how she gets insecure too and know the pain- she helps you gain confidence around her and feel more comfortable with yourself

jumin- he notices it too- being around so many women who doll themselves up, he notices you like to do the same- and even when youre relaxed and casual with him, he sees the light makeup you put on- hee doesnt think much of it, guessing that you just liked that kind of stuff- but once you were out together and your makeup smeared when you hugged him,, getting on his shirt and smudging on your face- you panic when you see his suit and try to wipe at it with a removal pad, but he brushes you off and says not to worry about it- instead, he takes the wipe and gently tries to removes the smudges from your face, but you back away and tell him you can handle it- he just needs to wait a moment so you can touch up- but he tells you not to worry about it, you look fine without it and itll take too long to redo- you kind of insist and it makes him frown, asking whats wrong- you fess up and explain why, saying you feel weird without makeup around him, especially in public or when hes surrounded by so many men women jdsfjg- hes so extra, probably taking your hands and looking you in the eye while delivering a speech about how beautiful you are- youre so embarrassed jumin pleas but it makes you feel a lot better and he works to make you more comfortable and confident

seven- ok he loves makeup- he loves it so much have you heard his calls??- but he loves when you wear it and asks you to do his (and vice versa)- but he notices that you always have a little on when around him- youre so cautious about it, you make sure to have it on even around the security cameras- he can guess why and just asked you upfront about it- you confirm his suspicions and tell him how you like the security,, it makes you feel insecure when you dont have it- he gets it!! boy has many insecurities himself- but he doesnt want you feeling the same :((- he tries to coax you into taking your makeup off when he does, so itll feel like someones there experiencing it too- and he always compliments you on your skin or general beauty when you dont have any makeup on

ray (in his route - at the ME building)- i think he would always notice it, but never really ask in fear of offending you- but he finally got courage to mention it and kind of blurted out a compliment- you smile and thank him and it makes him so happy oh my god hes so precious- but one day he came in when you werent exactly ready and he saw you without any makeup on- he noticed the difference and didnt comment, but it didnt help your discomfort with him seeing you like that- you ask for him to leave and he turns into a puddle, apologizing profusely and trying to leave asap- but you call for him back, telling him its not his fault, you just dont like being seen without any makeup- hes reassuring!! dont worry!!! he tells you that youre beautiful without it and hes happy to see you like that!- it comforts you and he tries to mention how pretty you look whenever he checks up on you

v- i headcanon that he wears eyeliner BITCH have you seen the cg of him standing behind yoosung after graduation- eyeliner- anyways, he notices and hes really just concerned for the health of your skin- he wants you comfortable so he doesnt say anything against it, but he knows that you feel uncomfortable- you stay with him for a night and after taking it off you kind of shy away and avoid meeting his face- but hes NOT HAVIN IT!! so he just pulls you to him and kisses you right on the lips, telling you he doesnt care about you not having makeup on and that you should always feel comfortable with him- he starts complimenting everything and its too much hes such a cinnamon roll- like everyone else, tries to compliment you more and remind you of the beauty you have under all the makeup

masterlist

[khodorkovskaya]

i want to write a little something about our relationship bc it's very therapeutic. sorry if this is tmi or whatever. im just a bit nostalgic... but at the same time im realising how our relationship was doomed and unhealthy from the start.

I’m seventeen.

The club is full. I’m trying to find my group of friends in the crowd.

He’s standing by the wall. I notice him right away. He’s swaying to the music, grinning to himself, glass of beer in his hand. He’s tall. He has a sharp profile and big dark eyes that reflect the glittering lights of the stage. He is the most handsome man I’ve ever seen.

I hate men. All they want to do is touch me. They want to rip off my clothes and grope me in a dark alleyway, force themselves down my throat when I’m drunk, shove their faces in my crotch on the bed at a hotel room, while my mum thinks I’m at my friend’s house. They’re incapable of tenderness. They’re incapable of being human. Even my own father is incapable of understanding what I truly need. I blocked him on Facebook and I never want to see him again.

He’s standing in the corner by the stage. The music is getting louder, but I can’t focus on anything else but him. Is he alone? Who’s the girl next to him? Did he notice me? Is he just like me, unable to see anything else in the room, distracted by my presence? Does he feel as warm as he looks? Could he hold me the same way the musician on stage is holding his accordion? Would his dark eyes glitter at the sight of me? I take a step forward.

It’s not that easy. A putrid monster stands in my way, licking its lips, reaching my hands out to me.  

“Let’s dance,” it says, grabbing me, squeezing my waist. I resist. “Come on,” the monster insists. “Just one dance.” I push it away.

Another step forward, a step towards my happiness. He doesn’t notice me. I persist.

“Hey,” I whisper in his ear. He takes my hand. He’s warm. We sway together. As he takes out his phone to type in my number, I feel like the planets have aligned. I have found him. I’m not alone anymore.

*

I’m seventeen. I’m listening to Lana Del Rey while putting on my makeup.

“Where are you going?” my mum asks.

“I have a date,” I say. It’s the first time in a while that I tell her the truth.

“A date?” she asks. “Where? With whom?”

“A guy I met last week. We’re going for a walk by the lake at [X],” I explain. It’s the second time that a man invites me to meet there. The first time was with a stranger, who touched me up on one of the benches in the cold silence of the night. It made me throw away the frilly top I wore that time. But my mum doesn’t know that. And I tell myself it’s going to be different this time. I put on a shirt and button it up to my collar bones, telling myself that it will protect me. “I will be home before 10, I promise,” I tell my mum.

I look at myself in the mirror and spray Bulgary Omnia in my hair and between my legs. I’m wearing low rise bootcut jeans I got from my dad’s wife, white boots and a thin brown leather coat. My jawline is outlined with bronzer, my eyes with thick eyeliner. I’m scared that it will come off if anything happens. I hug my mum and leave.

*

“I don’t know… More than 25, but less than 30,” I tell my mum, as I’m getting ready for our second date.

“More than 25?” she gasps. “You’re a minor, do you understand?”

“Yeah, but he’s nice!” I object. “He’s very polite! It’s fine!”

“What does he even do in life?” mum asks.

“I don’t know, we didn’t talk about it,” I say.

“Well what did you talk about then? You don’t know his age, you don’t know what he does. What did you even talk about? Do you even know his name?”

I roll my eyes. I want to tell her about our first date, but she wouldn’t understand. And honestly, I don’t understand any of it myself. He didn’t touch me, he didn’t force himself on me, he didn’t shove his tongue in my mouth while holding the back of my head. Was he bored with me? We just talked about the music we liked and he bought me a drink. He told me he was from Yugoslavia and showed me a punk-rock band he likes. He said his dream is to have lots of kids and a house in the countryside. I like him dream.

This time we meet during the day in the city centre. He kisses me on the lips with no tongue. We bump into his mum while crossing the road. I hear him speak Serbo-Croatian. I’m taken aback. I guess all roads lead to the Balkans, huh? There is no escape from my father, even though it’s been two weeks since I have blocked him, I think.

We talk about horoscopes and school and the weather. He takes me to a park and then we walk past a cemetery. I try not to act scared, imagining what would happen if he tore open my button up. What would I tell my mum? Could I saw the buttons back on before she would notice? But he doesn’t even stop to lead me into the bushes while nobody is around. We just walk side by side and chat about nothing. He says he made vegetable soup last night and that he liked dinosaurs when he was a kid. I say that I’m eighteen.

We arrive at his place. It does indeed smell like soup. I notice a vinyl record of “Moscow evenings” stuck to the bright yellow wall for decoration. It makes me smile.

We put on an Emir Kusturica film with Bulgarian subtitles. I’m too distracted by how soft his jumper is and the fact that his hand is on my thigh. I’m wondering why he doesn’t touch me. There’s no one around. He can just fuck me right then are there, right? Why doesn’t he? What’s he waiting for?

He turns to me and smiles when the film gets ridiculous. He caresses my thigh shily. He kisses me sometimes. I want more. I don’t understand what all of this is for.

And then it finally happens. He puts his warm hand on my cheek and kisses me. We lower the sofa bed and kiss for what feels like eternity. He carefully puts his hand on my waist, as if checking the water temperature before getting in. I don’t want him to stop. But he’s hesitant to continue and I don’t understand why.

He pulls away and looks at my eyes. I hope they glitter just like his do. He hugs my shoulder and we continue the film. Does he not like me?

He kisses me again. And again. It’s been hours. He tugs on the zipper of my jeans. Finally! But he still takes forever, slowly unbuttoning my shirt, button by button. I’m relieved. At least my clothes will stay intact.

I brace myself, prepared for the worst, clenching my fists.

He enters me. I want to scream. It feels like heaven. It’s the best thing I’ve ever felt. I want to cry. It feels like taking a bath. He’s warm. His jumper is soft. He feels like home. He feels like the warm waves of the sea in Ulcinj. He feels like the heat of a late summer evening. He feels like honey and orange carnations, like the sunset, like the memory of sunny afternoon on a night filled with the sound of cicadas and the smell of pine. He feels like everything and I want to scream.  

He doesn’t move for a while. He looks at me to see if he can continue.

I hold on to him. I want to dissolve into him. I want to become one with him. I want to scream. I want to be a crystal chalice he can pour his soul into. I want him to plant coral peonies on my breasts. I want us to melt together like the golden sand and the silk turquoise of the sea. I don’t want us to separate. Ever. I scream and wrap my arms around him and don’t let go.

He comes and I put my head on his chest while he hugs me. He looks at me with an air of complicity and we chuckle. He says I’m beautiful.

He gets of the bed and disappears for a while. He comes back with a bowl of vegetables and a knife.

“I want to make soup,” he says. I laugh. He hands me a big celery root and I peal it, wrapped in a duvet, while he’s in a towel. I find myself thinking that I don’t feel like I have just had sex. I feel normal and comfortable. Did it even happen?

“My god,” he giggles. His penis has become hard again. He puts the vegetable bowl on the desk and gets on top of me again. “I think we have to stop,” he says, smiling. “Or else there will be no end to this.” We laugh, looking into each other’s eyes. We get dressed and he walks me home. I can’t stop smiling.

*

The next day I get ready for my ritual. I turn the tap all the way to the left and prepare to hit my skin with steaming hot water. To make it red. To feel clean. I open YouTube to play Tsoi to make me think about despair and my hopelessness. But it doesn’t feel necessary anymore.

I’m confused. I look at my naked body and think about him touching me. It doesn’t disgust me. The thought of him kissing my breasts makes me smile. I don’t want to wash myself; I want to stay this way; I want to always have a trace of his touch on my body. I love him.

[a-nonbinary-mess]

I want you to do all the botanical asks because im a plant gay and i love you and i love plants

im crying op please tell me who you are please i love you too idk who you are but im love u too (also this is 31 questions anon omggg)

baby’s breath: 5 things you associate yourself with

1. art (anything aesthetically pleasing)

2. food–mainly desserts

3. stress (that i put on myself)

4. lavender bc i really love lavenders

5. uhh dogs? i really love dogs

bleeding heart: what makes your heart go mushy?

-thoughts of how much I adore my friends tbh

-any cliche romcom trope in a fanfic or seeing ppl suddenly realize how much they love another person, whether platonically or romantically

-seeing kind people in the world and amazing animals, mainly dogs and cats

bell flower: what’s the title of the song that makes you want to jump around out of joy?

-uhh idk i like disney channel original songs a lot tho and ive been listening to a lot of potential song by aly and aj lol

-love on the brain by rihanna, uhh anything that sounds cheesy and cute and romantic like la vie en rose by edith piaf (the cover by laura and anton is super good)

evening primrose: what is your sleeping playlist (five songs): 

-anything by lofi hip hop beats w/ anime girls studying hard

-any studio ghibli song tbh

-any classical music song idk i dont listen to a lot of music before i sleep

-tango music ??? 

-a whole musical (hamilton, chicago, etc)

-songs that dont require me to sing bc i will sing to legit any song at 3 am instead of sleeping

forget-me-not: who is your favorite blog that’s not following you? 

-hmm idk? i mainly follow a lot of art blogs, so i would say any of them? maybe hinamie? or insomniac-arrest is a super cool person, thatsthat24 bc thomas sanders is an amazing human being and i would love to be friends with him

daffodil: what is one plant that you want to have but can never get?

-lavenders or sunflowers? where i live is kind of really difficult to plant anything tbh (unpredictable weather, things die in the winter, etc) and also idk how to take care of plants r i p 

calla lily: are you more of a sunny day or a rainy evening?

-rainy evening for sure. i love to leave the window opening, listen to soothing music, drink tea surrounded by candles, and read something ive been putting off while my dog is curled up next to me

foxglove: what is your favorite color and in what shade?

-i like the whole rainbow of colors but i prefer the darkest black and darker red for clothing and a light purple in general

lavender: what is something that you’ve always wanted to be/have/get but can never have?

-happiness. jk but i really do wish that i wasn’t mentally ill though :// also a cat. bc im allergic : (

love in a mist: what is the latest dream that you remember?

-idk i dont sleep well or deep enough anymore to even dream but i remember having a dream 2 years ago that i was dating oikawa from haikyuu and he was so disconcerting in my dream that i remember it to this day bc essentially he wasnt a real person like i could recognize him bc he was a damn hologram like miku and we had sex the end it was wild

daisy: what is your favorite flavor of cotton candy, ice cream, and juice?

-favorite cotton candy flavor (???): there are multiple flavors???? i just like the original pink i guess idk anything about cotton candy 

-ice cream: cookies n cream, cookie dough, vanilla, mint depending on where im getting it, and strawberry : )

-juice: does fruit punch count 

painter’s palette: are you more of a singer, dancer, painter, or instrumentalist?

-i love singing and i can legit never stop

tulip: what is your most favorite make-up product? do you like it more natural, dark, or etc?

-i love love love red eyeshadow. the brighter the red, the better. i also love red eyeliner and just anything red in general, but i usually mainly use red eyeshadow bc i love the look; anything red = good

waxflower: are you a bee or a butterfly person? a dog or a cat person?

-i love bees !!! butterflies are cool too but bees are cute fluffy babies that essentially control whether we live or die

-uhh probably dog person but only bc i have one :0 i love cats too but im less sneezy and generally stressed when im with dogs lol

sugarbush: do you have sweet tooth? if yes, what’s your favorite sweets? if no, why?

-i really do like sweets but i used to eat so much as a kid that im kind of sick of them now but i still like to eat the occasional cookie or cake or something

-i really like donuts !!! also any asian dessert (eastern, southern, western, EVERYWHERE) is amazing to me and i love eating them

sunflower: would you like to be a fairy or a mermaid?

-merperson !!! i love the ocean and maybe we can finally figure out whats at the bottom of it ; ) sweet pea: what would you like to call your significant other?

-babe mainly, hon

-hey, you fucker

-u dumb egg

sea lavender: can you swim? which strokes can you do?

-i can barely swim now uggghhh but i swam for five years and i knew all the strokes and was super good at freestyle (haru who) !! now i can barely do the freestyle and that’s it lolwindflower: list 5 of your favorite blogs and explain why i like them

-thebootydiaries: she’s funny !! anyone who i find funny i automatically like

-thatsthat24: thomas sanders is amazing. i love him and his friends so much and i think about being his friend a lot to the point where ill have dreams about suddenly being good friends with his whole posse aldjfal;fjl

-tatir0ckz: we used to talk a lot like back when we were both into hetalia but we never talk anymore ? which is fine ! but i remember a lot of our old convos and we skyped like once and idk 2012 was a simpler time

-adorable-as-fuck: i know her irl !! we went to the arcade like once and it was a ton of fun so we exchanged tumblrs and thats it and on the rare occasion that we’re both free, we might go to the arcade again !! idk its cool she’s super cool

-mhaikkun: her art style is so good and she doesnt upload as much on tumblr anymore but shes so cute and her clothing style and aesthetics is sooo good !! she’s a p cool person and her stories on twitter are always super wholesome aah

-this is more than five but ngl aphtextsfromnordics, incorrectknb and any other incorrect quotes blogs or text message blogs changed me as a person aldfj

golden rod: are you more of a baker or a cook?

-baker for sure ! baking just calms me down i think

bloom: what is something that you would like to tell your children?

-if i do have children, i want to tell them that i will never judge them for who they want to be. i hope they will be as open as possible and that i would never want to make them uncomfortable. i would encourage talking about problems and just communicating needs in general. idk, basically everything my biological parents didnt do

peony: what is something that you wish your parents could’ve told you?

-tbh my parents are awful, awful parents (and one of them is just a purely disgustingly, horrid person) and i would never wish for them to tell me anything bc on the off chance that they did try to parent, it was to tell me how much of a burden i was, or something racist/homophobic, etc. 

-if they were better people, i wish they would have told me it was okay to be struggling and its okay to be lost rn. i wish they would have encouraged open communication and kindness but well, i learned that all myself : )

prairie gentian: do you have a significant other?

-nope! i sometimes really wish i did, but relationships honestly stress me out and idk how to talk to irl people : ( i love platonic relationships a little more honestly, makes me feel more comfortable

september flower: are you more of a sunshine or sunset person?

-sunset for sure lol i think sunsets are so pretty bc of all the colors that are involved and during that time period is when im doing something i like and im typically at home : ))

bird of paradise: do you wake up early? do you sleep early?

-i wake up early now bc of school but i usually sleep late and wake up late haha

marigold: what’s your favorite tea?

-roasted green tea and lavender! anything flowery is nice too : )

peruvian lily: what are the names of your pets?

-i only have one dog (a pomeranian) and her name is marzia! which is short for marzipan bc my dad didnt want to remember such a long name lol

hyacinth: do you name your plants?

-ye! most of the time theyre just silly names like spiky (for when we had a cactus a long time ago) or red/pink (the colors of the roses), etc. idk about now bc i dont have any plants currently

lilac: would you rather sleep and be cozy or hang out with your friends?

-hmm depends on the friend tbh

-but most of the time id rather sleep and be cozy !!!

poppy: do you like to dip your fries or do you like it as is?

-dipping !! i like ketchup or ketchup and mayo !! cheese fries are sooo good too

dandelion: any special talent that you have?

-i can bullshit a writing piece really bad and still get a good grade on it (seeing as most of the time i procrastinate until the night before and write the whole damn thing)

thanks for all of these questions anon !! if u can and ur comfortable, pls get off of anon sometime so we can talk !! im on tumblr a lot more now bc im procrastinating lol (and if my responses are late its bc im on mobile with no notifs on lol)

[evakviigmohns]

punk chick [richie tozier]

request: hey could I request an aged up Richie x reader where Richie is transitioning into his bad boy style because of the reader because to impress her because she's a badass punk chick.

A/N: i!! had!! so!! much!! fun!! writing!! this!! I hope that the anon who sent this doesn’t mind that these are headcannons¿¿¿ cuz I just thought it was easier & im trying to get my shit done LMAO,,,,, soooooo hope u guys enjoy this!! don’t forget to send me request or such cuz i still have time until school begins & I want to write as much as I can before it does. i hope u have a great day!

 -okay so let’s say you are the new girl in school at 11th grade (i would say freshman sophomore or whatever it is but I have no fucking idea how that works lol) & u came in with all of this bad punk chick vibe and everyone just went nuts

-bc its fucking derry, here everyone is just kind of average and the cliques are not really empathized or anything so seeing someone just look so much like a character from a movie and all of that is just different, u know what I mean?

-soooooooooooooooo, it’s your first day at school, you walk in and you literally feel how everyone turns around to look at you, which you just kind of brush off cuz just fuck it, you know what I mean?

-okay so you go into your first class and you just sit like in the middle of the classroom cause even though you are interested in this subject, you are not interested enough to sit in the front seats and wait to until the class starts; everyone is sitting with friends or such and you are still alone but you really don’t care cause you might as well just turn around and make a lil chit chat with the people sitting behind you because for fuck’s sake if you aren’t charming

-sOooOo as I was saying, people keep walking into the room and you see a guy with such an adorable smile and just looks like a real-life bunny and he gets closer to the seat where you at and he just smiles directly at you and nicely asks if he can sit next to you and you reply yes.

[MORE UNDER THE CUT CUZ I DONT WANNA FUCK UP YOUR TIMELINE]

-It turns out that his name is Ben Hanscom and he is the nicest boy you’ve ever met. The conversation between you two floats easily and right before the ring bells, he invites to hang out after school with his friends and you immediately agree; everyone could use some new friends and even more when you are the new girl at school/now.

-your day just floats normally, until you reach your final period, but you decide to skip it because who fucking needs to P.E

-so you are just hanging out behind your school, smoking a cigarette as you just look around waiting for the final ring to make its appearance and you see a couple of boys who are walking around and you just follow them with your eyes as you keep inhaling and exhaling smoke (out of context but if u smoke pls be careful bc of fucking cancer) apparently one of them notices you.

-and they just pull the shirt of the other as they keep staring, talking about being lowkey, the other guy who is wearing glasses and is just fucking tall smirks at your direction and tells something to the smaller one and he just starts walking in your direction as his friends follows him.

-once they reach you, your halfway trough your cigarette and you just look at him until he says something.

-“well, hello there” the glass-wearing boy tells you and you just nod your head at his direction “uhm, my name is Richie and this is Eddie” he said as he looked at his friend next to him “and I was just wondering what is doing a lady like you out here all by herself” “what you think im doing?” you say as you put the cigarette in your lips “to smoke? Yeah, well, im here to take a smoke too.” As soon as he said that, eddie looked at him just shocked bc for fucks sake Richie doesn’t smoke¿ wth is he doing¿

-but you have no fucking idea and you just take the cigarette off your lips and give it to him, so he can take a hint of it, to which he just opens his eyes and grabs it and puts it in his to give a big blow of smock and not even five seconds in he just starts coughing

-you just start laughing and so does eddie, you look up to Richie and he is still coughing a little bit and he is just blushing like a bastard

-you quickly look at the watch in your wrist to see how much time you had left until you and ben were going to meet up, 2:55 pm; since your school day ends at 3 pm you just grab your backpack from the floor and start walking away

- “bye eddie, see you later smoker-boy” you say as you leave bc yeah you might a badass chick, but you are also really fricking polite so

-you walk slowly and once you reach the entrance of your school, ben is already there with his friends and he just waves at you as he smiled bc ben is a fucking ray of sunshine

-so, you stand next to him and all of his friends just stare you, maybe because you are wearing all black, maybe because of your eyeline or probably just because ben aka cutie managed to talk to you aka punk chick

-ben clears his throat and starts introducing you to his friends: bill, stan, mike and bev, his eyes showed such an adoration as he introduced Beverly and you immediately realized how lovestruck he was for her, and he introduces as (Y/N) (Y/L/N), the girl on his history class who is super sweet when she wants to

-hardie outside softie inside TM

-but it turns out that they still have to wait for 2 other guys, so they can go to a little forest that it’s pretty much theirs by now

-the conversation between all of you floats so fucking easy that you are shocked like ??¿¿ beverly even asked you if you can give her tips on how to do her make up and you immediately agree bc she is just so great smh

-just imagine punk chick!reader and softie!beverly teaching each other to do their make up JNKJVDNVKDFNVKJFNKD, im so fucking gay im SORRY

-let’s get back to it

-so, you hear stan say that the guys who you were expecting are already coming and you turn around to see the infamous smoker-boy and eddie getting closer.

-once they’ve settled in, ben goes “okay, (Y/N) these are-“ “Richie and Eddie, I’ve met them before” you interrupt him “and Richie trying to make himself look cool or something just chocked in my cigarettes smoke” you say with a little smirk as the rest of the group just starts laughing at the brown-eyed boy.

-“well thank you for embarrassing me, princess” “suck it up, dickhead”

-also, you swear like a freaking sailor and literally 20 minutes in, everyone already knows it

-so you and your new gals are walking towards the forest and you are just amazed because everyone is just so nice¿¿

-you feel really welcomed and you are happy that ben spoke to you in the first place

-OKAY SO, the weeks pass by and you keep hanging out with them and you’ve gotten insanely close to ben, bev, mike and richie

-you keep showing Richie your favorite bands and you just kind of ignore the fact that he gets really fucking red when you get close to him

-because he is really fucking cute when he wants so he get’s a free pass at being lowkey flustered around you

-so, one day you are all hanging out waiting for classes to start but Richie hasn’t arrived yet, which is not weird because he is usually  late

-but then he does, and he is not wearing his usual stuff, but he is wearing a sex pistols shirt and you are like ?? since when does Richie like sex pistols??

-and he is just smirking like an asshole and just winks at you when he realizes you are staring him and you just reply by flipping him off and then the bell rings

- so, you have physics now and you share this class with Richie, and you just walk to the classroom together and he keeps making remarks about how cool you two look all punkie and stuff and you just wink at him and all of his coolness is long gone bc you never wink at him????????

-physics just go by very lowkey because you really like this class and in middle of it you feel Richie pull your arm

-“hey, (YN), look down” “for what” “just do it for fuck’s sake”  and you do it, and guess what

-Richie Fucking Tozier is holding a box of cigarettes under the table and you are just shocketh

-because like two months ago he almost chocked to death for smoking and now he does it

-like what the fuck Richard

-and you ask him what the hell is up with him

-and his explication was that it looked fun

-but in reality it was just because he had a silly crush in you. I mean, he is Richie fucking tozier, he doesn’t need to change to be liked by girls but he wants to be liked this girl.

-he even asked bev about it

-because he realized that you two became really close

-and she explained to him that you never really spoke about boys and such but that you were single but not lonely

-u know what I mean 😉

-SOOOOOOOOO, he is like fuckfuck what do I do now, so his best idea is to turn into a bad boy version of himself

-cuz that’s what all punk chicks want, right? -in reality, you knew about richie’s plans and you found it adorable and you also didn’t really have a type bc life’s too short to think about having types so

-but you also had a crush on him HDFJHFKJDJN, ben, bev & mike were the only ones who knew about it because even though you liked all the losers you trusted them the most

-soooooooooo, let’s say its Christmas break or something

-and there’s a party where everyone is invited but you reach there earlier because you weren’t in the mood to wait and you just wanted some alcohol because life is stressing oKAy

-and it’s like 11 pm when you see the rest of your friends getting to the party and you are really happy bc you were tipsy, not drunk, tipsy

-everything is going super great and then you hear someone say something about Beverly and you are like ??? protective gf activated

-it turns out someone was calling her a whore bc apparently she slept with someone named Patrick

-but you know it aint true and you also know that the girl who is talking trash about Beverly has done it for some time

-so you walk up to her and you ask her what did she say

-she says without looking ashamed any second that Beverly was a disgusting slut and that  it made sense that you were her friend

-and wait?? Is that your fist against her cheek?? What is she doing on the floor?? Yeah you just punched her cause she deserved it

-so, you kneel down next to her and softly say: “say anything about Beverly or my friends ever again and I will make your life fucking impossible, understood?” the girl just nods, and you go to your group of friends and everyone is just in shook and bev just hugs you and you just hug her back bc awe <3

-richie’s brain kind of stopped working and it’s insanely cute

-like, he is just staring at you, with his lips partly opened and his hair is just a big mess and wow, is he wearing a leather jacket??

-“Richie, can we go to talk outside?” “what? Oh, okay, yeah, sure” talking about being flustered

-the moment of shook is long gone and as soon as you walk off with Richie everyone is just freaking out because you two have been pinning for the each for a long ass time now and everyone knows it except you two, like how stupid is that?

-they had bets and all of that going on to see how long it took you two to date LMAO

-so you and Richie are outside of the house and you just look at him and he looks like a damn mess but you need to get this out of your chest

-also Richie + leather jacket is a combination made by the gods

-“Richie, I like you” and before you even manage to say something else, his lips are already on top of yours, his hands are on your waist and at first you are kind of shocked

-but a few seconds in and one of your hands was on his chest and the other one was in his hair and if this wasn’t one of the greatest kisses you’ve gotten in a while

-so after a while you pull away from each and you just smile at him and he just smiles back nsjkfd

-“I like you too, princess.”

-“yeah, you’ve kind of made it clear” you say scrunching your nose a little bit

-“I’m trying to have a moment, for fuck’s sake YN”

-you just laugh at him and kiss him again and he doesn’t complain

-because your lips are really fucking soft and he just wants more

-so by the end of the party you two are officially A Thing and everyone is really happy for you

-also make out sessions as you listen to The Ramones? SING ME UP

-so yeah, lol, you and Richie re just a happy punk couple who smoke together and are just really fucking happy with each other

-THTAS IT BC ITS ALREADY 2.4K WTH