#i need to will myself forward

[beelzzzebub]

I now associate The Chain with ofmd in the same highly emotional way that I associate Somebody to Love with good omens, and it's seriously very weird in both cases

[thedisablednaturalist]

I think when people think of mental illness and what helps, especially with things like anxiety and depression, the treatment involves pushing yourself. Pushing yourself to get out of bed, to exercise, to take a shower, to go out in public, to order your own food from the cashier, etc.

And because the mental health movement has grown so much, people think that's the default of ALL illnesses. That the only way someone will get better is if they push themselves. That practice makes perfect. That you'll become more comfortable or strong over time the more you do something.

But what people need to realize is, with physical disabilities and chronic illnesses, pushing yourself in most cases is DETRIMENTAL. Pushing yourself past your limits can lead to flare ups or further injury. That's why it's important to know your limits, how certain activities may affect your condition, and learn how to either adapt or get help to complete the activity in question.

Also, most of us are already pushing ourselves. Most of us don't have access to the help or equipment we need. Most of us live in places where we frequently encounter inaccessible obstacles. Most of us NEED to rest.

So please don't try to be our physical therapists or doctors. There are people specifically trained to help us navigate our own conditions and limitations. There are people trained to help us strengthen our body's resilience without causing flare-ups or injury. Do not tell us "it'll be good for you" or "you need the exercise" when we say something is too heavy or too far or when we say we need our mobility aid(s). Your friend with depression may need to be encouraged to get out of bed, but your friend with chronic illness definitely doesn't.

Respect our rest.

[alicenpai]

the girl from the other side ✨ this series gave me hope a million times but simultaneously shattered my heart into the same amount of pieces </3 (flower symbolism under cut)

sticker sheet for anime north 🍀🥧🖤🤍

SPOILERS AHEAD

forget me not - obvious reference to the Black Children and how they eventually forget who they are as they near the end of their "life cycle".

white clover (in coffin) - white clovers typically symbolize innocence.

4 leaf clover - like I wrote in a previous post on my Witch Hat Atelier seasons piece, the 4 leaf clover symbolizes luck and good fortune. Like Coco, Shiva to her loved ones is a symbol of fortune, though to the Inside Kingdom, a symbol of misfortune.

sunflower - typically symbolize strength and warmth, a fitting flower for Shiva, the light illuminating Teacher's dark past.

nasturtium - another flower symbolizing strength, and has strong ties to the "victory" after battle. apparently soldiers used to don them as a sign of a long battle won. fun fact they are also edible (don't take my post for nutritional advice please) (ill probably write a bit more on this topic when my head is more clear)

[puppyeared]

its so hard to watch time pass when things like careers and assignments exist. what do you mean im supposed to take that seriously

[talisidekick]

Trans girls. Just be cause you're "boy-moding" or stealthing, that doesn't make you less of a girl.

Trans boys. Just because you're "girl-moding" or stealthing, that doesn't make you less of a boy.

Enby's. Just because you too are stealthing as your AGAB, doesn't make you less of who you are. You're non-binary.

It doesn't matter if you've got 5 o'clock shadow, no make-up, didn't bind, didn't pack, or couldn't for any other reason and walked out the door a mess. You're allowed to be fully you and just not put in all that extra effort. You're allowed to hit "screw it" every so often and still be 100% how you personally identify. Passing as cisgender may be your comfort goal, as it is surely mine, but it is NOT the metric of your worth.

Just because we have days we give up on the effort, where we can't bring ourselves to put the time in to look the way we want to, just because we have days we don't try to pass as true selves, does NOT make us less. Cisgender people have trash days too, we shouldn't be expected nor place the expectation on ourselves to be perfect all the time.

You're still you, and that's awesome and attractive.

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

drawing Barnaby is incredibly Detrimental to my health because it consistently finds me like this:

[emblazons]

He is more of myself than I am.

Day Seven of @bylerweek2023 - Soulmates aka: Byler x (Emily) Brontë + how he looks at you when you're not looking

[ashipiko]

the girl is READY TO PARTY

[stuckinapril]

I think there’s something to be said for the fact that I used to dread presentations when I was younger but now plan to go out of my way to sign myself up for them so I can improve my public speaking. Me from not even two years ago would’ve never. But now ?? The more the merrier let me at them

[becca-e-barnes]

Thinking a whole lot about how good it feels to see someone after the anticipation has been building for a while. There's not much I love as much as a good sexual tension.

Maybe it's been a while since you last saw your dad's best friend but now he's here in front of you, you're counting down the minutes until you can get him alone.

It's hard in a room full of people though. He's just walked into your parents' kitchen, a beer in his hand and as soon as you realise he's looking at you, you look away. You know yourself well enough. Maintaining eye contact with him would leave you fizzling and it's much too early for that.

He doesn't look away. No one would have noticed he's staring but you can't help wondering what he's thinking about. Is he imagining the last time he saw you and how pretty your face looked painted with thick stripes of his cum? Or is he imagining how it feels to slide into you, burying himself to the hilt in your warm, wet, fluttering cunt? Maybe he's imagining the way you beg him not to pull out; the way you clamp your thighs around him and make sure there's no chance of him cumming anywhere except inside you.

If he wasn't thinking about any of that before, you're convinced he must be now. He's leaning against the kitchen counter, ignoring a conversation going on around him with a smirk on his lips and you have to wonder if he can read your mind.

'I'm going upstairs, follow me in 10.' You send the text and leave the kitchen without even looking at him. You have yourself convinced that if you look at him, people will know. They'll know everything. They'll know you think of him every time you touch yourself and they'll know that doesn't even come close to actually being with him.

You've been settled in your room for 14 whole minutes before the door opens.

"Couldn't even hold it together a couple of hours?" Bucky sounds smug and he has every right to.

"I could but I didn't want to. Why should I?" You're on him in seconds, tugging at the collar of his shirt, using it to press his lips against yours.

It's a frantic kiss, all tongue and teeth and breathy moans, hushed as much as possible.

"I want to go back downstairs with your cum dripping out of me." You don't have time to waste so you might as well get right to the point.

"Sweetheart, we both know that's not what you need." Bucky's fingers trail up the inside of your thighs, under your skirt. "You don't need me to cum. You need me to take the edge off."

The soaked fabric of your panties only proves his point. He watches you while he trails his fingers in concentrated strokes against your clit, enjoying every tiny gasp he earns from you.

"I can treat you properly later like we planned. Just let me help you out." His eyes are trained on yours while he slips your panties down your bare legs. With your cunt exposed, he presses you back onto the bed, kissing from your knees, up the inside of your thighs.

One finger sinks inside you, followed by another before his lips seal around your clit, his tongue flicking beautifully.

You've gone from no stimulation to so much at once and it's making your head spin. God, he's good at that. He needs this just as much as you do and it's lovely to be with a man who gets off on eating you out the way he does.

The way his fingers curl inside you is truly breathtaking. "You're going to have to be quiet, angel. At this rate, the whole house will know I'm up here making you cum against my mouth."

[zensations35]

I Now Pronounce You Allergic (LSSR)

Yeahhh I FINALLY FINISHED IT!! I'm sorry it took forever but IT'S WORTH IT! Ahem...please enjoy Ren and Sasha's first totally-not-a-date where they BOTH find themselves allergic to the flowers at their friends' wedding--and then proceed to have a holdback challenge. Spice warning, yes there is snzfucking!

Skye helps me put the finishing touches on my makeup. I line my lids with blue and pink and a bold purple. 

“Is bi pride appropriate for a lesbian wedding?”

Skye laughs. “Abby won’t care. Kadie,” she trails off, “Who knows with her these days.” Skye clasps hands under her chin and coos. “You look gorgeous.”

Skye helped me pick out a subtly sexy midnight blue dress that I’d been eyeing for weeks but didn’t think I could pull off. It cups my skin so tight it’s like an aura as opposed to a dress.

“How many times have you reassured me about clothes?” Skye’s hand flicks toward my ass--I love the way my ass looks in this dress. 

I pair the dress with silver earrings and bracelet. A purple bandana wraps my hair, the bulk of it gathered in a neat bun at the back.

Skye’s face illuminates as she scrolls through her phone. “Ren’s almost here.”

“Are you sure about this?”

“Absolutely. I’m not wanted there--too much history--and! Leo has tickets to Excalion! I’d honestly rather be there.”

“Than your friends’ wedding??”

Skye’s brows rise, “Than an ex’s wedding who can’t stand me? Yes.”

“Fair point.”

Ren picks me up ten minutes later. He’s dressed not unlike he does when he goes to work. Suit, tie, vest, but…is that glitter on his cheek? Skye and I share a look and I see that ‘he’s so adorable’ look on her face. 

The venue is big--bigger than I expected from what Ren’s told me about one of the brides. Wide pillars, an archway the size of twelve Rens, marble fucking floors?? Who needs that??

Ren leads me inside and noise surrounds us, people chatting and laughing. I’m swallowed by sound and scents and--

My body turns to iron and I stop walking. Ren startles and looks at me with confusion. But my eyes are fixed on the tables. The tables with bright, purple, bushy…flowers. A very specific flower. 

“Ah,” Ren hums as if it makes complete sense. “Yes, I was afraid of this.”

I stare at the offensive flowers. If looks could shank you in a back alley, those flowers would be a crime scene. My lips pinch. The chatter around me numbs to a dull hum. Everything loses focus. 

The flowers start to warble and blur behind a saline lens. My sight is compromised. My nose sucks all of the energy out of my other senses. As if it’s putting on a damn light show.

I feel my lip twitch. I hone in on the tickle--the wretched sensation that’s going to ruin this whole experience. My lips form a crescent scrunch and I hear myself growl.

“Ahm…” Ren leans next to me. “Sasha?” he tips his head down to look at me and I jerk to the side. “Are you scrunching your nose?”

“No,” I say, but it comes out all congested and 100% unconvincing. 

Ren lifts his brows. “Hm. I see.”

“Hxsh-T!” 

His head snaps toward me as I recover and I feel my bones shrink. Fuck. I shoot him a don’t say a word look and he clamps his lips shut. “No. You saw nothing.” I refuse to let this be a thing. Even though, as we head toward our table, I find it overflowing with the atrocious bouquet and--

“Hyk-TSH-iah!” I snuffle and wipe my eyes with my fingers. Ren hands me a cloth napkin and I try not to glare at him as if this is his fault. 

We’re seated at a four-person table and across from us are two other people. One of them is a very tall, very burly woman who could be on the cover of a weight lifting magazine. Her slinky copper hair is fluffed at the top and pulled into an amalgamation of a ponytail-slash-braid. I can’t imagine an actual salon doing that to her, so it was probably a homemade hair concoction. 

The man she’s seated next to is…significantly smaller. Like, he looks so thin, I’m pretty sure a medium-sized breeze would knock him over. His wrists are bony and I think I see a purple bruise in the crook of his elbow. He also has a cloud of red curls and a matching spray of freckles dotting his face like the woman does. 

I feel my nose threatening to misbehave again and I instinctively look for the champagne. There’s a glass in front of me next to a sheet of paper for each table setting. I inspect it closer and my stomach flips. 

It’s a bingo sheet. There are things like ‘brides kiss without prompt’, ‘Anne talks about her beanie babies’, and--

“Ren sneezes during the best man speech?” the burly woman blurts in a thick drawl. A throaty cackle burst from her, not unlike that of a hyena. “Do you see this, Ikka?” she prods at the text, nudging the man next to her. 

“Please, Iris,” His voice is rich and dull at the same time, accent a strange twang, as if he spent time in the UK and Texas, but not enough to fully form either accent.  

“It’s just funny, right?” her cheeks dimple with a grin. Her voice is raw and boisterous as if she really is finding everything hilarious. 

My eyes fall back onto the phrase: Ren sneezes during the best man speech. It’s right up top. What..the…heck, vanillas?

As if on cue, I hear the raspy intake of air right next to me. And the table jolts as Ren’s knees knock into it at the same time he jerks into a rigid, “HxSZg!” 

I flush and can’t help my eyes rounding. Oh gods…him too?? 

He flashes me a sheepish look and rakes a finger against his nose. “I think we will get at least one point.”

I snort, “You did not…”

Another keening cackle from the lady across the table. “Oh shit, Ikka! That’s him,” she gyrates her wrist toward Ren. She props her chin on her upturned palm. “Tell me, Ren,” she says with a mixture of mischief and amusement, “Do you sneeze a lot?”

The man next to her groans and rolls his eyes. “I am so sorry,” he says to Ren. “She thinks she’s hilarious.”

“Well, I am, ain’t I?”

“Ren!” a floaty voice perks us all up and I see one of the brides hurrying toward us. Her brown hair is braided in a ring around her face and her cheeks are sunny and dimpled.

“Abigail,” Ren stands and lets her scrunch him with a hug. She pulls back and takes his hands, brimming with joy. “I’m so glad you made it! Gosh! I was worried people wouldn’t come because there’s no ceremony but--Ah! Is that your…date?” her eyes flick to me. 

Ren gestures to me, “This is Sasha--Skye’s girlfriend. She is indeed in attendance with me.”

Abigail’s lips form a ring, “Oh, I see. Yeah, I’m so sorry about Skye, but,” she laughs awkwardly, “you know how Kadie is.” A knowing eye roll as her pink lips pucker.

Ren pats her hand, still attached to the V of his suit. “All is well. Skye is with our boyfriend Leo, seeing a concert.”

Abigail laughs uneasily. “Oh, well, good.” Her gaze warms. “I hope you have a good speech prepared. Kadie thinks you could get AI to write it and it would sound exactly like you.”

“I assure you, I did no such thing.”

My face is so tingly right now and I wish Abby would just leave so I can escape to the--

“SS-Ktsh!” I immediately shudder, arms wrapping around my midsection as I tuck my chin into my collar. Oh if I thought one was going to be enough--”Hit’SHKkk!” I was a fool. “Hax-SHIEU!” 

“Oh,” Abigail trails fingers over her chest. “Are you okay?”

I nod, eyes still squeezed shut, free hand roaming the table for the--

Cloth presses into my palm and I feel the brush of Ren’s fingers. “She is well, I assure you. We seem to be experiencing similar issues with,” he gestures to the bouquets. 

“Oh my gosh--I’m so sorry!” Abby coos. “Seriously, Kadie insisted, even though I said you were allergic. She was like, ‘he can just take a benadryl’ and I was--”

“It is quite alright, Abby. We are fine.”

“Are you sure? Because I think my grandma has Claritin?” 

I perk up, “C or D?”

“Uhh, I’m not sure but you could go ask her,” Abigail points to an elderly woman seated next to the bar, with an oxygen tank next to her.

“Uhhh, maybe,” I lie. I’m definitely not sneezing enough to beg an old woman for allergy pills. It’d be just my luck to get her talking about her own allergy journey. I swear anyone over 60 loves to talk about the pollen count. Ydjjjehhhh...my teeth chatter involuntarily.

“Well, just let us know if you need anything!” Abby trills and floats away waving her fingers as if she’s boarding a plane. 

I use the cloth to wipe my eyes again and blow out a frustrated breath. 

“Sasha…” 

I tip my eyes to Ren who looks nothing but concerned. 

“Are you uncomfortable?”

I sniff, shunting my gaze. 

“Please, be truthful.”

I puff. “Yeah, I am.”

“Then we shall leave.”

My shoulders lock. “What! No! These people are your friends! You’re the best man!”

Ren leans down, leveling his liquid blue eyes with mine.

“Sasha, out of everyone here, you are my priority.”

I flush, my heart thrumming through my chest and neck.

“Are you able to handle it?”

I twist the cloth between my fingers, “I don’t know.”

Ren leans over the table, facing to the side so all I see is the apex of his jaw. But he does that single-knuckle rub motion that always always leads to--

*snf* “Hh…” 

I slam my eyes shut and do my best to think of banjo music. 

“Hg-gk…hh-hih!”

And…he stops. His parted lips close. He exhales. Sniffles. Looks at his phone and scrolls like nothing happened. 

I gape at him, my stomach flipping with butterflies. “Seriously?” I snap loud enough for the other table to turn their heads. 

Ren looks at me, flabbergasted. “Was that wrong?”

“Yes!”

“So, I should have just…let it happen?”

“No!”

“Then…” Ren lifts his hands in a shrugging motion. I groan, burying my face in my hands, using it as an excuse to rub my own itchy nose with my palms. 

“Hmm…” Ren taps a pen on a piece of paper. He spins it around and scribbles on it.

Ren 1 Sasha 5

I peer at it, then him, eyes lidded with suspicion. “What the hell is this?”

“A game.”

“A game?”

Ren leans back, “Whoever sneezes the most loses.”

My brows shoot up. “Are you joking?”

“Not particularly.”

I drop back down to the paper. I feel a buzzing in my limbs, as if I’m preparing for a marathon. It feels…exciting? Oh fuck it. My lips tick up and energy rushes through me.

“You’re on, Grayson.”

He smirks.

Ren eyes my champagne glass and points a slender finger. “Do you need another?”

I frown at him, “Will you be okay if I…”

Ren softens. “I will be fine, Sasha. I have been sober for a while now. I am capable of restraint.”

I nod, “Then sure. But grab some strawberries too. And apples! And maybe…”

Snickers from across the table. I look over to see the fitness model laughing. She sees me looking and smiles, wide and warm. “Y’all are so cute!”

I blush and turn to Ren but he’s already standing to leave for the food table.

“Um,” I wrinkle my napkin and clear my throat, “So, how do you know the brides?”

She continues to smile, “I don’t.”

I pause, waiting but she doesn’t continue. 

“Alright, then your date does?”

She bursts into snorts of laughter, wide hands cupping her angular mouth, “Ikka,” she uses her elbow to nudge him and I hear him let out a tiny whine, “she thinks you’re my date.”

His lips crimp in amusement. “So did that other woman--the elderly one.”

My head spins like I’m being exorcized, “Wh-where?” 

“The lady,” he points to a plump graying woman currently a table away, scolding people there for something. Her hair is a curly swoop over her brow and I see at least four crosses on her ears and necklace. 

“Maybe we should play along,” the man, Ikka, says. “I don’t want to explain how we’re related.”

“We don’t have to go into detail, just tell her we’re half siblings.”

He drains his glass and rolls his eyes, “So she can ask why? No thanks.”

My ears prickle when I hear the so obvious sound my brain is fucking attuned for: hitching breaths. My eyes trail the room, searching, but I hear it before I see anything. 

“HkXGn! H-Gk’dsz!” 

It’s quiet, so miniscule I’m sure there are people at the buffet who didn’t even hear it. But I did. 

When Ren arrives and deposits the drink and plate, my lips quirk up, “Two points for you.”

He looks alarmed, “You heard those?”

A laugh bubbles in my throat, “I could hear them from another room, Lawrence.”

I hear the braying laugh as the burly woman claps her hands together. “I think Kadie did the seating, Kah!” 

“Iris, don’t fucking start--”

My left eye twitches. Apparently there’s wedding drama here that I want nothing to do with. I decide right then: I’m sticking to a small ceremony if I get married. 

Ren passes me a plate of fruits, “I was not certain if you wanted red or blackberries, so I took both.”

Iris’s pitched voice calls, “Why do you talk like that?” She’s looking at Ren and my heart sinks.

Ren’s cheeks harden, lines appearing on his forehead. A flare of familiar anger sparks in his eyes as his voice sharpens. “I speak this way so I do not speak,” his chin tips at her, “that way.”

My hand flies out to smack his, “Ren! That was extremely rude!”

He buries his lips in his teeth, eyes shiny from chagrin. He sighs, brushing a thumb across his glass, leaving a scar of condensation behind, “I apologize,” he says to the woman. 

To her credit, she just shrugs and resumes talking to her…brother? But I’m indignant for her. I glare at Ren and frown. “Ren, I get that you have trauma about your accent, but not everyone felt the need to change theirs. Don’t be a jerk.”

Ren nods, “Yes. You are absolutely correct.”

I nod and feel better. I was hoping that wouldn’t turn into an argument. I eat some of my strawberries and the sugar rush makes me kind of giddy. Until I forget where I am and take too big of a breath through my nose. 

My synapses light up and I taste panic hot on my tongue. I’m already tearing up, moisture running down my cheeks. My makeup I worked so hard on is smudging. Fuck. I fumble in my purse for clean tissues but I come up empty. What the hell? I always bring a pack everywhere. Whatever. Lost cause. 

I squeeze my fingers around my necklace to stop it from flopping but, “Hih-XSShh-ieh!” the sneeze rocks my neck, my shoulders. My chin yanks and my hand snaps the metal, the silver chain pooling around my wrist like a liquid snake. 

“Fuck!” I snarl but I’m not done, “Adj’SK!!” I sneeze viciously into the hand holding the chain, feeling the tang of iron on my lips. This can not get any worse. 

I throw myself to my feet, fingers steepled over my nose. Tears blur my vision as hitches flutter against my tongue, “Hhh-ieh! IEH!” My feet fly over the ground, carrying me so fast I stumble. At the same time I’m careening toward the ground, my lips sputter, “Hiex-SHIEEw- UGH!” 

Strong hands wrap around my shoulders and pull me straight up to a standing position so that I’m no longer about to flatten my nose on the tile. I blink away allergic tears as Iris beams at me. She doesn’t seem put off by my splotched, wet face at all. 

“You okay, sweetie?”

I mutter something unintelligible and then cough. “Uhm, kh, yes. I-I’m good. Thank you.” 

“No problem, doll. Can I escort you to the bathroom?”

“Oh, no I can get there fine.”

“I’m on the way myself, but I’ll wait if you need privacy.”

My wrists wag left and right, “Oh, no it’s fine!” My people pleasing ass overrides the need to be alone. “We can both go.”

I let Iris lead the way into the restroom where she takes a stall and I use the mirror to clean up. When she comes out of the stall I'm blowing my nose and apologizing every time I sniffle.

“Ikka gets sick a lot--snot don’t bother me,” she says as she washes her hands.

I titter with her but there’s no way I can explain my special brand of embarrassment. So I take some soft purple tissues and blow my nose. But just when I get it clear, the fire reignites, sending me spilling back into the fluff. 

“Ha-XSSH! Iee’TSHH-ieu! EiSHH!” I snort thickly, “Agh, whad the fugk?” 

Iris rorars a laugh and swipes the napkins, “Yall must be allergic to lavender.”

“Uh,” I sniffle, “Yeah. W--” I point at the cloth, “Are those…”

“Lavender scented,” her eyes shimmer with amusement and I flame bright. “Man,” she chuckles, stuffing the soggy tissues in the trash hole, “They really had it out for you two didn’t they?”

I groan and flick on the faucet. “Seems so.”

 “I can ask Ikka for unscented ones. He usually has some.”

I shake my head, “No-no, that’s okay, I…” I scrunch my nose and clamp my hands over my face. “I just need…a minute….”

Iris pops a shoulder, “Alright. Well, good luck.” She swaggers out of the bathroom, leaving me to my mess. I clean up as best I can and fix my makeup, spraying a setting liquid over it once I’m done. 

It’s been quite a while and I turn to head back, but the drinks swirl in my head and I pause. My eyes land on the stack of lavender tissues. 

I don’t think too hard about it, but I find myself stuffing a few into my purse before fleeing the scene.

When I get out of the restroom, I hear people calling “Toast! Toast!” and I see Ren standing up with a flute of sparkling water. 

I risk a glance at him staring smugly at me as he crosses the room, a cocky grin on his face.. He lifts a finger in the air and tapped the side of his nose before holding up 4 fingers.

Oh. It’s fucking on. 

I hurry to pass Ren him on my way to the table, digging in my bag.

“You’ll need these,” I don't meet his eyes as I stuff the tissues in his hand. I scurry away, shame leaving a hot trail behind me. I don't know why I did that--why did I do that?? I’m a godsdammed cheater, that’s why. 

I sit and watch as innocently as i possibly can. Ren stands iron straight at the front of the room, but his expression is soft, eyes twinkling in the chandelier lights. He addresses everyone and gestures to the brides on either side of him. 

“I met Kadie in college. We were good friends. She was always keeping me in line.”

A knowing chuckle hums across the room. An inside joke. Ren holds his arm toward, “Abigail let me crash on her couch for most of my young adult life.”

“Me and Leo,” she quips.

“Touche”. Ren lowers his voice for dramatic effect. “She had to kick me out quite often once she met Kadie.”

A ruckus of laughter at that. Abigail blushes but Kadie takes her hand, amused. Ren knows what he’s doing. Playing the crowd. Like a good DM. He begins the next phase of his speech but I can hear the hints of congestion stirring his words into a thicker drawl.

A few people have their bingo cards ready. I’d be lying if I wasn’t thinking about it. Ren pauses mid-word, breath ragged, fumbling in his pocket. 

“Apologies,” he croaks, “It s-hhh…seems you shall--snf! Have a bingo point af--” he folds one of the tissues over his nose, “Hk’TZZHHH!” 

“Ikka,” the woman at our table rasps, “Quit staring and mark it down!” 

My brain pushes their convo aside. I watch Ren’s nose, his chin. Bobbing up and down with each hitch, inhale, sigh. Eyes lock onto him as if his hypnotic buildup has charmed the snakes of the show. 

“Hnng…” the silence in the room is as solid as a truck. I can’t speak for anyone beyond my line of sight but my entire table is watching him intently. Seriously, why are they watching so hard? Do vanillas just--

“Wait,” Iris points from me to the bathroom tissues. “Did you--”

I slam back my glass of champagne, ignoring the question.

“XsST-hieu!! EGSX-EIU!” Ren siffles thickly and dabs his nose but that’s only making it worse. 

Seven. 

I lift up, ready to fly to his defense, but Ren crumples the tissue with a sorrowful sniffle and tucks the pack into his breast pocket to finish the speech.

“My apologies. Or, perhaps not?” Ren draws another laugh from the crowd. 

Iris smacks the bingo sheet, “Focus, Icabod! We’re close to winning!”

Okay. I’m getting kind of sus here. Maybe I’m just in fet brain overdrive but I have to know. Ren finishes his speech and ambles toward us, flicking tears from his watery eyes and slumps into the chair with a groaning sigh.

“Ren,” I rasp when I’m safely close enough to him to prevent being heard from the others. “Hey!” I wrap my fingers around his tie and pull his neck down so I can speak with him. And wow this actually is hot. No wonder Skye does it so much. I wobble a little and ohhh gods I'm getting drunk. 

I release him once he’s nice and close and whisper, “Rub your nose.”

He jerks back, “What?!” 

I groan, rolling my head, “Not like that. It’s…it’s for science.” 

Ren follows my gaze to Icabod and he hums, “Ah.” He tips his head down and sniffles. He brushes the underside of his nose, slow and deliberate. His eyes flutter and he lets out an exaggerated gasp.

“Igh!! Hiiegh…”

I stare open mouthed for way too long. Christ he’s good at this. I’m about to just let him attempt a fake before I remember there was a point to this.

I sneak a look at Icabod and… our expressions could have matched 100%. He might even be drooling. Not that I blame him. Rens still going, toying around with teasing hitches and soft gasps. Gods what must that be like in bed? 

WHAT? I have clearly had too much champagne. 

I sneak another look at Icabod to see him staring intently at his fork. And his eyes flick toward Ren. And back to the fork. 

I am floored. The odds are insane. But I do know those two are friends of Skye. Or aquaintances. Maybe I’m not the only person she’s met online…

Two claps bring our attention to the floor and Ren stops his fake buildup in milliseconds with a soft breath and a quick nose swipe. The man should be an actor.

 “Alright everyone, we’re having a freeze dance competition. Now, pick your partners, and dance! When we blow the whistle, you’re gonna freeze! Don’t. Move. Any movement, intentional or not, will disqualify you for the prize.”

“What’s the prize?” I ask.

Ren glides up next to me, knuckling his nose, “I do not think it will matter.”

I open my mouth to ask him why, but that’s a dumb question. His watery eyes and the buzzing of my own nostrils I’m desperately trying to ignore would destroy us both.

“Maybe it’s for the best we sit out. I can’t even dance.”

Ren looks astounded. “You cannot dance?” 

“I…no. Not like…ballroom dancing.”

“Then,” he holds out a hand, “I shall teach you.”

I pause. Dancing is Skye and Ren’s thing. I feel like this would be an intrusion of their sacred custom. But Ren waggles his fingers as if groping for my hand. “Skye will not mind.”

How does he read me like that?

He takes me by the hand and pulls me immediately into a spin. I’ve seen him and Skye do this enough that I don’t stumble. I may not have participated before, but I’m far from a dance virgin. 

We dance the intro of the song for a couple minutes, and I can’t keep the smile off my face. I feel so dashing in my sexy dress, tearing up the floor like this. 

Ren cradles my back, hands strong and gentle as he dips me low. My head tilts back and I’m overwhelmed by the scratchy scent of lavender. A busboy passes by carrying another bouquet. I jacknife upright, palm flattening my lips and nose as two very not stealthy sneezes wrench my spine, “Hiex-SHEW! HAAh-TSHHieu!” 

Ren lifts me and swirls us, dancing uninterrupted. I gulp air and glower, “That was cheating!” 

“It is not cheating. I am within the boundaries of the rules we set.”

“We didn’t set any rules!”

Ren smirks knowingly. I honestly have no room to complain though. I cheated first. 

“Freeze!” the voice rocks adrenaline into my veins and we both instinctively still. Ren’s hands are on the small of my back and propped on my hip; my arms are draped over his shoulders, one palm spread behind his neck. 

It feels so intimate. And…I swallow, my body reacting to him already. 

It’s about to get much more intimate.

His face is flushed so pink I’d think he was drunk. His teeth grind and he snarls a hitch. “Sasha,” his breath is hot and moist, barely audible but bold enough to send wracking shivers down my spine. “I am not…going to last…”

Oh gods. He did not just say that. 

Abigail moves toward us. Fuck fuck! What are we going to do? Ren’s nose scrunching isn’t doing the trick, and if he sneezes on me, I’m going to lose my goddamn mind. 

His fingers tighten on my waist as he sucks in a breath, and I make a decision. My hand sweeps from his neck across his cheek, his skin hot as a brand, and my fingers close over his firm nostrils.

He exhales, relief shuddering through him, and I swear I absorb that shudder and feel it quaking my thighs. 

I’m. Grabbing. Ren’s. Nose. I’m grabbing Ren’s nose! In public! What the fuck am I thinking?? 

I could tell myself that I just want to win--that’s all this is. But I’ve been lying to myself for too long. I don’t give a flying fuck if we win this game. I wanted to touch him. To feel his nostrils twitch under my grip, his breath bathe my wrist--oh gods. My body is a livewire. I’m worried I’m going to vibrate myself off the dance floor. 

“Sasha,” he grunts, “you may release me.”

Electricity zings through my arm and I snatch my hand away as if burned. 

Ren’s eyes glitter and his mouth curves, “That rather turned you on.”

“And I think that rather turns you on.” My bold comment comes out of nowhere.

The corner of his lip ticks up, “Of course.”

I didn’t think I could burn hotter but my blood feels ten times heavier.

Asshole. Is he just picking at me like friendly banter…or does he…want me?

This isn’t the first time we’ve flirted with each other. Over the course of all our friendships, the on-off-on-off of all fucking four of us…it’s godsdamn exhausting. And it’s wearing me down--physically and emotionally.

Ren looks at me with those concerned furrowed brows. I want him to say the same thing. The same thing I’m thinking, feeling. I…I want…

A clap brings us out of the sexual deviancy of the moment and Abigail calls, “That’s a wrap!” 

Abby glides toward us and squees. “You two were precious!” she trills. 

“Did we--” 

“You didn't win,” she frowns. 

“Erm, no, I know. But,” I fidget, coiling and uncoiling my fingers. “Did we embarrass ourselves?”

Abby chuckles. “Not at all. The other competitors were thrilled--” Abby poked Ren’s nose affectionately making his nostrils flare a bright pink. Why did that make me jealous?

Ren steps forward, leading Abby as she chats about ….

“Please just do this one thing for me, please!”

“W-what thing?” 

“The entire guest list has been taking photo booth pics so we can scrapbook it all vintage like. Will yall participate?” Abby begs.

Ren’s lips twist. “Alright. Of course. For you.”

With a squeal from Abby, we are ushered into a long hall, wider than average. It’s filled with nostalgic photos of celebrities like Elvis, The Beatles…is that Shirley Temple?? Did they even have photo booths back then? Oh gods, this whole fucking hallway is a beacon for how bad I am at history. 

In a misshapen nook sits a photo booth. A fancy one--it has a door and everything. Wow. Kadie went all out with this reception. I’m assuming she wanted to wow her guests to make up for having to univite them to the actual ceremony in 2020.

With some nudging, Abigail watches us climb in and shoots me a thumbs up. “I gotta go kiss ass to my mother in law but it’s pretty self explanatory. Take some funny ones! I’m making a scrapbook!” 

Ren is already inside and when I climb in, I find it more spacious than I expected, but not enough for us to sit side-by-side. I may have a smaller waist, but Ren has bulk in his thighs and shoulders that just won’t work. 

“Well,” I say, “I guess I’ll sit on your leg, if that’s ok.”

Ren nods and shifts so I can perch near his knee, pulling my dress down in a habitual need to unbunch my clothes. I slide over his leg and catch myself when his fingers curl around my hips to steady me.

“Is this alright?”

“Yeah, thanks,” I resume shifting. We look at the screen in front of us and I squint, searching for the switch to activate it. “Where…” we start fussing around, both seeking the mechanism but coming up empty. 

I groan, “Why is something so vintage so hard for us to figure out?” I feel the edge of anger on my tongue, “It’s so different from every phone booth I’ve used.”

“As opposed to the many phone booths you’ve been in?”

“I was young once, Ren. In the 90s. So, yes.”

“Hm,” he chuckles. “Were they…” the word drops, thickening with dull congestion that makes my spine straighten like a steel rod. I jerk to the side, putting the shadows of his jawline in my peripheral. 

“Are you…” I swallow a desert in my mouth. 

He rubs a lip under his teeth, “Would it be better for me to say yes, or no?”

“What does that mean?”

“It m-means…” his words begin to stumble, “If denying I am not hhh--” his long fingers climb to his face, sawing languidly under his nose. 

“Worse.”

“Then, my nose itches and I hhh--believe I might--hh-igh…sneeze.”

I flush hot and oh, I was wrong. That phrase was so much worse. Better. Augh I am absolutely incapable of untangling the mess of emotions flooding me like a rainstorm. I feel myself squirm, the photo switch forgotten in lieu of, “Ren…”

I feel his hand on my hip tightening--exactly the same way it did on the dance floor. Oh gods…if there was any doubt, it’s gone: flung out the window. 

He’s going to sneeze. I’m on his lap. Fuuuuuck. 

“Ren,” I feel my throat grate against his name, “I should go, I--”

“I will be fine,” he sniffles and his head does a small shake that makes my spine melt. His voice is honey, “It’ll pass.” 

A contraction. He’s really fucking trying.

“Uhh, I don’t think it will,” I say flatly.

“I can…handle it. Trust me.”

“Trust me,” I wiggle to stand but my knees tangle and I end up slipping back, falling into him. His hands wind around my middle, one thumb skimming the slit decorating my hip. 

“Ah-apologies, I--” 

I should try to get up again. I know I should. But his grip is firm, steady, as if I’m his anchor in a storm. I hear him sniffle right in my ear and gods I shiver from head to toe. It makes my shoulders wring, my stomach thrum, and my thighs…

I hear him gasp and feel his hips rock forward. He lets out a small moan and I realize I’ve squirmed myself to the ridges of his lap. And Oh. Fuck, this fabric must be so thin because I can feel exactly how my arousal is affecting him. 

“Hh-ieh--” He squeezes my body so hard a small gasp flees my throat. 

“Mmmmhh--!” there is no way the sounds I’m making are even remotely adjacent to ‘stop doing that please’. My body is in camp sneeze right now. 

“Hhh-ngh, Sahh…” His breaths come in grinding gasps and I’m not sure anymore if it’s from holding back the sneeze or my ass rubbing against his cock. 

I’m too hot for this. I’m too horny for this. The unbelievable tension and teasing of the night all crashes into me in frantic, thought-erasing need. 

I can’t remember why this is a bad idea. I can’t remember that we’re in a public fucking place, in the middle of a wedding reception and it’s Not A Good Time. My panties are slick and wet, and I do more than wiggle--I writhe. Noises escape me in high pitches half breaths, matching his liquid gasps escaping his tilted mouth.

“Hhh-iehh--HEh!” 

I could stop this. I could get up. I could launch myself out of this photo booth as if I were a champagne cork and Ren wouldn’t stop me. But I don’t want to stop.

My back arches when I feel his head dip far enough for his nose to feather the skin of my neck. Oh fuck ohfuckohfuck-- My senses narrow to that spot, everything dulling around me as his lips pop apart, still buried in my neck, and--

“HGX-SHHZ!” 

Pleasure explodes inside of me. My body bucks and I ride him, rubbing myself back and forth over his trapped cock in a rocking motion. 

“Hieh--”

“Oh fucking gods!” 

“HY-ESHHUUU!” 

My orgasm unleashes, wracking my body, lighting every nerve inside me, pulling closed-lipped moans from my throat. “Mmmnn-gods fuck MMMNnnn!” My hands are clawing and scrunching any fabric they can get at--from the folds of my dress to Ren’s taut pants. He moans against me and I hear him swear, “F--uck…” 

My body collapses against him and I suck in air, my chest pulsing in time with my labia. He’s still hard against me, fingers delicate but firm as he sniffles thick and wet. 

“S-Sasha,” he grunts, “I…”

“Oh my gods.” My heartbeat turns from pounding to racing. 

We just dry humped in a wedding photo booth!

My hands slap my face. “What the fuck am I doing?” Gods, I must be so--

“Sasha,” Ren’s hand squeezes my shoulder. “If you permit me to leave first--”

“No,” I say quickly, tugging my bra strap back in place and smoothing my wrinkled bandana. “Anyone who overheard just heard me m-moaning and…you, uhh…”

“Sneezing?”

“Y-yeah. But that could have been me, and…”

Ren concedes, though he doesn’t look convinced. “As you wish.”

I don’t need him to believe me, I just need to get out of here. Now.

Hoping my makeup made it out unscathed, I crawl out, opening the door--thank gods there’s a door--and sliding out, eyes darting around to see if anyone is nearby.

“Hey there.” 

I freeze, my entire body jolting with panicked adrenaline. I turn to see Kadie staring at me, arms folded over her wide bosom, lips askew. Sparks in her sage eyes.

I flap my hands nervously, “I was just--” 

“I know what you were doing.” Her voice is firm but there’s a hint of a roguish gleam. 

My blood ices. “No, you don’t understand.”

She silences me with an upturned palm. “You do know I dated Skye, right?”

My jaw unhinges. Of course. Of fucking course she knows. She could probably see it all over my face all godsdamn day. 

My hands close over my face, “Oh my fuck,” I muffle. 

Kadie sighs, a heaving breath, “Look, I really don’t give two shits what you did in there. But I’d better not have to clean anything up.” At my alarm, she pressed the air with her hand, “Chill. No one else knows, or heard you. Just me.” She hands me a slim rectangle of paper. “Maybe watch the switch next time. You’re lucky I was here.”

She whirls and leaves me clutching three stacked images--muted and gray but there’s no doubting what’s going on in there. If I focus, I can see my O-face. IeeHHGGG. 

I crumple the pictures as Ren climbs out, brushing wrinkles from his suit. “What happened?” he asks.

I look at him, “Kadie heard us. And…saw…” I crunch the photos again for good measure. 

“I see.” Ren rakes a forked hand through his hair and it flops back over his brow with enviable ease. “Perhaps then, it is an opportune time to--”

“Bail?” I snort, “Sorry, I shouldn’t…”

“Yes. Bail.”

My chin juts up at him in confusion.

We make it out without being noticed. Ren even finds us a bathroom on the other end of the building to freshen up. I make sure to slather myself in deodorant. Everywhere. Yes, even my stomach and thighs. My underwear didn’t make it out unscathed. I pull my track pants out of my bag and go commando.

I have a tube top as well and I trade it for the dress. Now I look like I’m about to go to yoga but at least I don’t look like I just snzfucked a guy in a photo booth. 

In the hall, Ren is still wearing his suit. “You didn’t bring extra clothes?”

He pats his vest in various places as if to say and where would I put them?

I roll my eyes. “Whatever. I’m ready to get--HXST-Ieh! Out of here.” I grind my palm over my nose, furious it hasn’t finished with me yet.

Ren opens his palm and offers it to me. “As you wish. However, I have one more stop to make.”

We hurry toward the exit, not encountering any obstacles before we burst out into the windy air like a prison break. Ren and I lock eyes and let out twin snorts. 

“I’m impressed you kept your erection during that whole fit,” I giggle. 

“Years with Skye has tempered me. At this point I find myself sporting a partial even when I start to…”

 Oh fuck that’s hot.

I drink in the crisp air, hoping it’ll cool me off. I breathe deep and we head toward the car. 

We’re still sniffly on the drive. Allergy aftermath can last hours if you marinate long enough. Ren drives us to a strip center just downtown. He parks at a meter right outside, “A book store?” I drink in the cottagecore awning and the chalkboard sign announcing an author signing.

An author I know.

Anita Maez?!

Ren looks at me, smiling. Not smirking. Not grinning. Just…smiling. 

“Your ticket is anonymous,” he says, “If you do not wish to enter, no one will know you withdrew.”

My eyes are wide and I feel my heart set up camp in my throat. “Ren…” I swallow through the thickness. He remembered my favorite fucking author and made a point to buy me a ticket to meet her?? 

He hands me the ticket and I take it, unable to tear my eyes away from it. I virtually stumble toward the building, only pausing to look at Ren to make sure he’s really okay with this. He nods and waits outside to give me privacy.

In line, I can’t stop thinking about Ren. The lengths he went for me today. For me. My brain is a bonfire. It’s becoming very hard to not look for meaning in tonight. Ren, making up a game for us so I don’t freak out sneezing in public. Making sure I was comfortable the whole time with all of the weird conversations. How utterly safe I felt in that booth with him. I’ve only felt that safe with Skye and Leo. 

And now this. 

Is he doing these things for me because we’re friends? Or is this just Ren being…Ren? I realize I don’t know, really. I know him as a friend. As Skye’s lover. As Leo’s primary. But I can’t tell if he wants us to be closer or if he just does this kind of thing. 

 I send a quick text to Skye, but then it’s my turn for the meet and greet, and I shove all those thoughts aside to meet my hero.

Ren isn’t outside the shop when I exit but I peg his location instantly. He’s down the sidewalk near a corner, sneezing his head off.

I start counting, unable to help myself from lining my footsteps with each sneeze. He stops, finally, and sniffles, patting his nostrils with a purple tissue--oh. Those tissues. 

I rush over and snatch it from him, earning me a bewildered look between sniffles. “What--”

“Those are lavender scented,” I flush at his expression. “They’re…causing more problems than solving.”

Ren chuckles and shakes his head. “Well, that does explain quite a lot.”

I pop my hip and place a hand on it, “So, what are we at?” I tease. “After your whole,” I fan my fingers around his face. 

“Mmm. Seven. But as we are not specifically at the venue, they do not count.”

“Um, they absolutely count, Grayson. We didn’t set any rules, remember?”

He has the gall to look defeated right before he tips his head in a bow. “Very well. The final count is?”

“Me with 13, you with,” I grin smarmily, “16.”

“Hm,” he hums. “Would it be a stretch to say your author signing is your prize?”

“Fuck no. First, you had that planned before the game started. Second, I didn’t ask for it, third…” I stop ticking my fingers when I see the mischievous look on his face. The streetlamps have caught his eyes so they look like they’re dancing. And he’s somehow maneuvered his arm above his head, propping himself into one of those ‘hot boy’ movie leans the lead love interest always does.

I bite back a snort. Is he flirting? Is he doing the sexy man pose on purpose? 

“What, Sasha, would you like your prize to be?”

I want to laugh and cry and tell him he looks silly and obvious. That he’s not as sexy as he thinks he is. Even if it’s a godsdamn lie. He would have won if I hadn’t counted what happened outside here--another result of my cheating our game. And he still let me pick the prize. 

And what do I even want?

You.

The thought comes unbidden. Immediate. I want him. I want him the same way I want Skye and Leo. I want to throw our dynamic into the trash and just…be together. All of us. A true collective polycule.

I can’t tell if he heard me, but it’s obvious he knows what I’m thinking. My throat bobs. Fear grips my heart tight. What if what if what if-

Ren is closing the distance between us and I can feel the pull of his heat. My body is like a magnet, my thighs ablaze trying not to just crush him with my--

Down girl. You already went on that ride.

He’s over me now, his lips bowed and crimped. 

“What,” he rasps, the heat of his tone melting my resolve, “would you like, Sasha?”

Fuck it. Fuck all of it. I grab his tie and pull his face down toward me. His upper body jerks forward and he careens down--gods, no wonder Skye does this so much--and I kiss him. His lips are soft and strong and completely devastating me.

It doesn’t matter that I’ve technically kissed him before. This is our first kiss. An earth-shattering, lava-forming, creating new continents kiss. 

 He lets me lead him, his tongue flicking my lower lip, asking permission, and I invite him in. 

Vaguely aware of his hand on my waist, fingers wrapping and scrunching my shirt.

He lets out a small moan into my throat and all rational thought vanishes.

Fuck. I love him. I love them all. Skye, Leo, Ren. And it hardens my bones, softens my heart, steels my mind. 

This is how it was meant to be.

160 miles away

Backstage, the music is muffled. Skye and Leo are standing awkwardly, Skye shifting from left to right, eyes wide and focused on the yellowing floor beneath them. 

Leo’s lips drop and his heart pounds. “Are you…okay?”

Skye gives a half hearted nod as she pulls out her phone and reads the screen, illuminating the pink of her cheeks.

Leo looks up, toward the flashing lights ahead where the roar of the crowd coats the night. “I hope Ren and Sasha are having more fun than we are.”

Another nod, Skye’s chin jerking down. Leo hears a small hiccup disguised as a sigh. She pockets her phone and looks at him, something lighting her eyes in a way that makes him uneasy. 

“You ready for this?” she asks.

Someone screams ahead and both of their heads whip toward it. Skye’s hand closes around Leo’s, squeezing. 

“I think that’s our cue.”

To be continued…

[hamable]

Hey I just finished Hilda season 3 and I am forever changed.

I joke that I could write a thesis about some media but I could really truly talk for hours about how fucking good Hilda is.

It’s core strength, which tears at my heart and soul so earnestly, is that it is not just a story about child adventurer, but equally a story about the MOTHER of a child adventurer and it’s just so beautiful. So impactful.

I think Johanna may be one of my favorite characters… ever. I think she is Absolutey Incredible.

Season three was just so amazing, the whole series is. I beg y’all to watch it because it’s so so good and deserves all the love it can get.

[pianokantzart]

The "waking up to an empty house" vibe.

[lilacthebooklover]

part of the reason why i find nightmare time episodes so interesting is because in half of them, i'm not even sure who the writers want me to root for.

take honey queen, for example. linda's the focus of it and we see her emotions, motivations & family, so it's expected that she would be the "hero" of the episode. but she isn't. the episode consists of her doing horrible things to zoey, zoey doing horrible things to her, and it gradually escalating to the point of kidnapping and murder. it's due to linda that zoey dies. and she gets what she wants, what the whole episode has been about her vying to achieve, but we as viewers don't feel satisfied, because how can all that's happened possibly be worth such a tiny, temporary, meaningless title? linda's father seems to be proud of her, which is what she's been hoping to gain and added an extra element of sympathy for her character. but in the end, he sacrifices her to an eldritch being because she "the hungriest". honey queen is tragic and comedic and messed up and chaotic and there are The Horrors and nobody is distinctly good.

and that stays the same in every nightmare time episode. so many of these characters wouldn't care a bit if they killed someone, as long as they were able to survive. but that's just hatchetfield. a strange community of selfish people with no clear morals, because that's all they know and that's all they can be if they want to survive. they have a magic child fighting ring, they have evil weed birds, they have clones in the technical department, they have an asexual axe murderer in the woods, they have a wealthy doting mother who's been alive for centuries, they have a 1986 foxbody mustang possessed by a dead psychiatrist, so on and so forth.

the whole hatchetfield universe is so surreal: this is a place where people go missing every day, where gruesome murders are dismissed unless it threatens their football team losing to the clivesdale chemists, where a character can do the most horrendous things or seem absolutely irredeemable, only for the narrative to put them through so much that the audience ends up loving them.

each character is so complex and unique (i could write an essay about literally any of them if i tried to- and yet that includes peanuts the hatchetfield pocket squirrel). none of them are meant to be all good, and none of them are meant to be all bad. they're realistic to their environment and screwed over by their universe and they all have their own lives to focus on.

the vast majority of the antagonistic characters are very beloved in this fandom, because this is hatchetfield, where the most horrifying things are normalised in-universe, so they begin to be for us, too. we don't think it's as awful when we see zoey's body hanging from the rafters, or watch boy jeri be killed by his own son, or see eldritch beings hunt people down, since that's all seen as far more normal in this world. besides that, people like to have flawed characters, it's good to have little fictional freaks committing atrocities since it means the episodes are completely unpredictable.

every volume of nightmare time is a rollercoaster or a fever dream, because they'll take the most unexpected characters and the most random concepts ever and throw them into a completely absurd plot. so many modern pieces of media follow a specific genre or structure, but the hatchetfield universe does whatever the hell it wants, and it's so investing to see. there aren't any limits here, and each episode is a separate timeline, so the creators can go wild and do literally anything with this town. it's like a treasured collection of cracky aus that have been written and performed astonishingly beautifully.

anyway, this is your sign to go check out nightmare time and @blinkysrewatchparty! it will be entirely worth it, i promise <3

[roitaminnah]

oh but I hope on my wishing stars

that I could be your love -

I’ve been waiting oh so long

to be your lover

(explodes) I just think about them a lot I think they’re neat. (song is ‘to be your lover’ by the burkharts,, one of the last ones on my ppkm playlist <3)

[whentherewerebicycles]

everything is still so good!!! heartbeat is super fast and strong and is now firmly in the upper band of healthy/normal. behold the little seahorse (now less seahorse-y because its tail is almost gone) floating around in there attached to its little yolk sac inner tube!!