auracomesoffio

[hollandorks]

.

[gon-and-killuas-mother]

so frustrated with my dad. he tells me, in a loving father voice, that if i want to change my life and do more and see the world, i just need to change my mindset

i'll give him that yeah, i could use a few adjustments to my "mindset", i have this helplessness about me that isn't always warranted. i know i have the ability to choose to go to bed sooner so i can wake up earlier. i know i can choose to make all sorts of changes that could bring me a lot of relief and stability.

but i just want to scream "changing my mindset won't cure my fibromyalgia, or give me the ability to eat freely without fear of pain, or fix my POTS and pain induced fatigue."

the problem is. that's the mindset he wants me to change. he thinks i can do whatever i want regardless of my limitations, and i should set higher goals so i can see the world and do impossible things because i can.

what's so infuriating is that i so desperately want the things he wants for me. i want to climb mountains, travel the world, swim with whales. i want to learn kendo and roller skating and modern dances. i want to go on road trips with my friends for no other reason than to enjoy the journey.

and i feel so robbed of it. i'm missing out on so much life has to offer because of how terrified i am of being caught in an IBS episode and having to use a public restroom, because of how much pain and exhaustion driving or even just riding in cars for long periods makes me.

i've physically improved in the few months since moving in with my dad just bc i have to use the stairs multiple times a day and walk further distances to get from my room to the kitchen. i can walk up a short hill now with only a little pain! but walking still hurts. basic chores are a little easier but still take more spoons than a normal person.

my dad means well. he wants to see me happy and it bothers him to watch me drift through existence. he's a man of action, and he can't comprehend why i'm so hesitant to "participate in life".

but he's never been disabled, outside of sports injuries. he's a physically fit, athletic middle aged man defying norms by leading boxing workouts with guys half his age, by climbing 14,000 ft mountains, by being a well known soccer referee when most refs are, at minimum, fifteen years younger. his idea of a vacation is a long, hard hike on challenging paths. "rest" is not something he's familiar with.

how the fuck am i supposed to explain to this man that i'm fighting against my body every single day just to accomplish the barest minimum? how do i explain that self discipline means jack shit when brain fog dominates my existence?

i know i can do better. i know i can be healthier, happier, and able to rely on myself.

it's just. it feels like a slap in the face when he sees this struggle and thinks i'm choosing this life. when he told me i shouldn't lower the goalpost, that i should aim high and ignore my limitations, it felt like he dismissed my disabilities as things to "overcome". as though i haven't been wading through waist high pain and depression just to survive.

that fucking hurts. he believes he's being helpful, and there's probably some gain in challenging me bc some part of me wants to take up that challenge. but i really fucking wish he would stop treating me like an able-bodied person.

sigh. anyway. i'm so tired of this.

[not-poignant]

Hey Pia hope you’re doing well

I was wondering, is the thing where Arden picks up a bunch of random hobbies and commitments a part of his ADHD or does it have like a name?

I’m a highschool student and I get told by all my friends and teachers that I have overcommitment issues and part of it’s just for uni and whatever ofc but it’s also that I want to do ALL THESE THINGS

Like I’m in 4 different science competition teams, the school debating team, school orchestra, scholarship classes, editor of my school newsletter, I lead the school amnesty and unicef clubs plus the IB program and being in the national maths Olympiad team lol and I don’t want to let any of these go but it’s so stressful and I’m so tired and ppl say I have to say no to stuff which is also stressful!

Also, doing more is always portrayed as such a great thing and I feel rlly guilty letting stuff go? So I’m just reaching out because you portrayed it in such a refreshing way and I was really curious!

Firstly, massive respect for your ability to fit this ask into the Tumblr ask limits. Seriously :D

Okay secondly, Arden’s habit of picking up a bunch of random hobbies / commitments is part of his ADHD. People with ADHD have this to different degrees, and my beta in particular relates really hard to this habit of Arden’s.

But actually, one of the reasons I put this in is because this is a very bad habit of mine - which is overcommitting, and overworking. And not wanting to let anything go.

People teach you a lot of skills in your life on how to pick things up, but almost no one teaches you what to do when you have many hobbies you love, and they’re hurting you because you’re working too hard and don’t have time for your loved ones (or to even really have loved ones) as an example. And it absolutely is a crucial skill to learn for people who are dealing with this, though capitalists don’t want you to learn it.

In the media what I see is most folks having no hobbies and someone being ‘oh you have to learn some.’ I liked Arden as a contrast to that ‘no, that’s too many things, put some back.’ Where Arden’s ADHD manifests - though it’s much more controlled than it used to be - is that he desires to spend a lot of money on the thing as soon as he gets into it (because he only wants the best of the best - which wasn’t great when he wasn’t earning much money), and that he starts really hooking into it in an obsessive kind of way. Spending a night making bows for your dog is one thing. Then wanting to spend $500 and start an Etsy store small business is like...from one day of work, not great.

A lot of Arden’s life has involved choosing to let go of things he’s loved doing, for his own sanity. This is something I’ve had to do as well and I fucking hate it, and these are the techniques I’ve developed for myself (and my still frankly overcommitted ass, who has people saying ‘when are you going to do LESS’ all the time to my face).

* Remind yourself that dropping some things now doesn’t mean you’re dropping them forever. It doesn’t have to be permanent. Sometimes it’s good to put a time limit on something. ‘I’m going to drop this for four weeks / four months and put a note/reminder in my phone about it right now.’ Chances are high you are not going to be as interested in that thing in four weeks/four months. (Chances are sadly also high you may have replaced it with something else). Like, there will be science groups you can join for the rest of your life. And debate groups. And newsletters.

(That being said, none of those things count towards our grades in Australia? So I don’t know how much these things are counting towards your grades in general and I’m not going to like, touch that side of things - however overcommitment is a super fast way to do a lot of things not that well, or to suddenly get so sick you can’t do any of the things and then feel terrible while you’re sick, more on that later!).

* Time caps on certain hobbies and activities and commitments. This is to actually shoot my habit of hyperfocusing in the foot. I don’t have time to play piano for four hours, but I’m allowed to play it for ten minutes a day (sometimes more but not often). And ten minutes a day adds up over time. I literally sit down and put the timer on my phone. If say there’s something that meets up twice a week but some people only go once, be one of those people!

* Rate the things based on how they contribute to your a) career and b) quality of life and c) happiness. Anything that rates lower on the list compared to the others (that isn’t like, literal money-making work or literal classes) needs to be dropped.

* Dropping things is just actually one of the hardest parts and there’s no real trick to making this easier. I just remind myself: ‘Just because I can do this thing, and do this thing well, doesn’t mean it’s good or healthy for me to do this thing. I need to spend time with people I care about, and I need rest, and those things matter more even if they feel less like ‘accomplishments.’ I want to care for myself through my hobbies, not punish myself.’ That goes some way in keeping perspective, but look, ngl, it sucks to drop commitments if you have an accomplishment/achievement/job satisfaction addiction. It just sucks.

* Accept that you are going to feel guilty, and that guilt is just an emotion, and it doesn’t mean you’ve done something bad. Look sometimes guilt gets it wrong! Sometimes you feel crushingly guilty just for breaking a bad habit, it’s not useful, you just have to kind of be like ‘huh I’m feeling a lot of guilt for trying to look after myself, that’s really interesting, I guess I can understand that but I’m also going to try and praise myself for doing a great job. Just because this isn’t an obvious kind of achievement, I know I achieved something really big and difficult today.’

* Oh yeah, use achievement and ‘job’ type language for doing things that involve successfully taking care of yourself and your energy levels. Just...sometimes you have to ‘if you can’t beat them join them’ - chances are you’ve never been as kind to yourself or proud of yourself for resting and taking it easy and seeing friends, than you are for taking on too many commitments. So...challenge yourself to be kind to yourself and proud of yourself for resting and taking it easy and seeing friends and committing to less. Trust me, you are never going to forget how to overcommit, and you are never going to become lazy or lax because you dropped a few of the (billion) things that you’re committed to. You can afford to praise yourself for this! And generously!

* Seriously, seriously consider seeing doctors or psychologists about this. Despite a TON of PTSD, I actually see my therapist most for working too hard and overcommitting. We spend a lot of time talking about why I might not be the worst person in the world for taking a break. Take it seriously. Your list alone made me feel like I was about to have a panic attack, lmao, your friends and teachers are right, you have overcomittment issues.

* Workaholicism and work addiction is real. There is a growing amount of information about how to deal with it and it’s worth googling.

***

Er anyway that’s what I do. It doesn’t always work. I have a lot of rules in place and I abandon half of them about halfway through the year and then s u f f e r. And have been doing that for over 25 years and I’m going to say bluntly now - it’s why I’m as sick as I am, and some of that sickness is irreversible. If nothing else, if you want to stay as active as you are now, I do not recommend that anyone push themselves so hard that they can no longer even do things that they enjoy on a regular basis, because they’re too physically debilitated to manage it, because they pushed their bodies too hard during the university years and just after. Because that is 100% why I became so sick in the first place.

And even extremely healthy people who have no history of chronic illness often develop something, in conjunction with years and years of working too hard or overcommitting. I’ve seen it happen to far too many of my friends, and you might feel like ‘just another six months’ or ‘just another three years’ but you’d be surprised how quickly you can go from ‘I’m doing it I’m doing it’ to ‘I keep getting migraines all the time doctor how do I fix this so I can go back to working as hard as I was before’ and your doctor being like ‘...yeah this isn’t curable. I’m going to give you some meds, that all come with horrible side effects, and you simply can’t do what you were doing before.’ Game over.

Trust me, that shit catches up with your body always. It might not be now, and I hope frankly it’s never, but overcommitment and workaholicism are the two fastest ways I know to chronic illness and once you get there, you can’t work your way out of it again.

Though god knows I have tried.

[jungxk]

just one (vi)

notes: the only guy on campus who’s track record trumped that of your best friend’s - park jimin - was jeon jungkook. not that that was a problem…until he set his sights on you.

warnings: smut (f recieving), protected sex

genre: drama, romance, humour, college!au

wordcount: 5.3k

part i // part ii // part iii // part iv // part v // part vi // part vii // part viii // part ix // part x 

you watch sadly as you tip your case of empty paint tubes into the bin. they were your absolute favourite, a birthday gift from jimin almost two years ago. you had been so careful and stingy with them all this time to preserve as much as possible - at least to get you to the end of the semester - so it was disheartening to have to finally throw them out. oils were always your favourite. still, there wasn't much time for moping; if you were to get your next piece finished by the deadline you better start now because of the drying period between layers of watercolour.

"maybe jungkook has a hairdryer..." you mumble to yourself before padding over to his room. he's sitting at his tiny little work desk with his back to you when you peek over his shoulder. "kook, do you have a hairdryer?"

he points without removing his eyes from the screen. "the bottom drawer over there."

"thanks," you do a double take as you pass him with the appliance in tow, his eyes a little bloodshot and face twisted into what looks like terror. usually you couldn't so much as clean a paintbrush without jungkook all over you while you were at his place, but he barely spoke the whole afternoon. you take a tentative step towards him, because if he was anything like jimin when he's stressed he might get rabid. "you alright?"

"i dunno, am i?" he collapses back into the chair, threading his fingers through his hair which was getting wonderfully long. but the only thing you can pay attention to now are his panicked eyes and jittery knees. "i don't know what the fuck any of these numbers mean! why do i even need this for photography-"

"what is it?" you smooth your hand over his back, muscles stiff.

he deflates under your touch. "i agreed to peers taking questionnaires about my portfolio so far and i fucking regret it, noona. this stats software looks nothing like minecraft. i dont know what this all means. my prof said it'd help with cohesiveness - whatever that means - but he's off on one if he thinks this has done anything other than confuse me and ruin my life."

you try your best to hold back a smile, but jungkook is so cute when he's pouty and frustrated. "okay, well what are your variables?"

"my what? baby, i'm not in the mood right now-"

"no you dipshit, like," you gesture with your hands. "what are the things you're measuring? in the questionnaire?"

jungkook stares at you blankly. "i'm...what?"

you roll your eyes, grabbing the back of his chair to swivel him and plop onto his lap. "let me see."

jungkook has no idea what's going on, both because he doesn't know what you're talking about and also because you're covering the screen so he's spared of having to follow your clicking and tinkering. all he knows is that you fit nicely on his lap and that your bare thighs are warm on his, and it's much easier to focus on that anyway. especially since you aren't wearing underwear. after a few minutes he hooks his chin over your shoulder to at least try to keep up. "what are you doing, noona?"

"just cleaning up your dataset," you mumble. you finally perk up after a few more minutes. "oh, okay! so all you want to know is if the people who like the first half of your portfolio like the second half just as much, and whether that opinion affects the other? like a correlation, right?"

he sits up excitedly. "yeah! yeah, that's it," he stares at your profile in disbelief while you waste no time in running the analyses. "how do you know about this stuff, noona?"

"i did stats in my science major. the software i had back then, now that was a real pain in the ass. but this one isn't so bad," you reply absently while jungkook keeps staring at you like you're an angel that descended from the heavens especially for him. he has yet to believe otherwise. "hmm, you know i think you can skip all the sample level descriptives and cronbach's alpha scores and go straight to pearson's r if all you're looking for is a correlation. what would you prefer?"

he breathes in your hair; coconut, jasmine. his cologne. "you’re so sexy when i don’t understand what you’re saying."

x

x

x

jimin's face twists when he tests the contents of the pan. "can you tell me why this tastes like tae's dirty socks?"

“can you tell me why you know what tae’s dirty socks taste like?” you lean over the counter, swiping a finger over the ladle before bringing it to your mouth. you always used to cook for your family when you were younger, and although you had gone off it after what happened, you didn't mind when it was with jimin. with him, you didn't think about the memories of cutting onions with your father or grinding chillies with your mother and sister. it all felt new again, something that was never tarnished. which is why jimin is the only one you can stand to cook with even if he's unable to make anything but mojitos and a single pasta dish. "not enough garlic."

he squints at his phone while you manoeuvre him out of your way. "but it says two cloves in the recipe?"

"it's never two cloves," you take the knife and start to crush and peel more. "always start with four, maybe five."

"can't we just order takeout?" jimin pouts pathetically. he just washed his hair so its still damp, cheeks a rosy from the bathroom steam. you only wish his long line of hookups could see their ladies man now, bundled up in a powerpuff girls  sweater that he stole from you months ago.

"no," you pluck his phone from his hand before he can dial, replacing it with more cloves for him to peel. "you've been having takeout all week! all that oil can't be good for you, what's the point of sweating your tits off in that gym if you're just gonna eat shit?"

"i don't always eat shit!"

"jimin. we share a just eat email account. i know the chinese place isn't sending me customer loyalty codes," he rounds the stool where you're sat in the small place between your back and the wall, his palm skirting behind your waist to move you gently aside. "just let me see you eat a vegetable today, i'm begging. so if you keel over tomorrow from IBS i'll feel less guilty."

"alright alright," he huffs, rubbing at his puffy eyes with his sleeve before picking up the knife again. "i don't see what the big deal is, if i was breaking out then that'd be another issue but my body can clearly handle it. maybe it's like that episode of drake and josh where his body becomes accustomed to all the junk food he eats and-"

"please don't use drake and josh as a marker for your health."

"fine," and then without missing a beat, "but what about kenan and kel? all that orange soda and kel was totally fine. healthy even."

"physically, maybe. but did you see the screw in the tuna episode? don't tell me he didn't have inner demons that may or may not have been increased by an overly processed diet," you pause. "wait, am i the kenan in this friendship?"

"depends. i want to say you're the brains but i've also seen you try to open a can with a fork, so."

"hey! that wasn't my fault!" you exclaim, but jimin ignores you purposely. "taehyung told me you fucked yeri in the kitchen, how was i supposed to know what was and wasn't contaminated?"

"___, the fork was plastic."

"well what else would you have me do, starve?"

"what is this, the fucking famine? you said it yourself, we share a just eat email so the smart thing to do would be order. besides i dunno what makes you think i'd fuck a girl with a can opener in my vicinity anyway-"

"um, you're you," you chastise. "so i rest my case."

"then i'm definitely kenan," jimin laughs when you swat at him before your phone vibrates, one after another until it almost falls off the kitchen counter if you didn't grab it in time. you don't dare to unlock your phone when you see the contact name on the screen, too hyper-aware of jimin eyeing you over the chopping board. even he sees the gist of the messages jungkook sent you.

[jungkook 7:13pm] u left ur shirt here again noona

[jungkook 7:13pm] at this rate ur never gonna get it back are u :)

[jungkook 7:14pm] i'm free all day tomorrow

[jungkook 7:16pm] wanna come over?

[jungkook 7:16pm] i still haven't washed it btw so

[jungkook 7:17pm] we can do laundry together :))

[jungkook 7:18pm] or maybe later tonight ? i can pick u up ?

you don't even get a good read of the messages - all those smiley faces gave you enough of an idea. it wasn't a surprise or anything, but you still switch your phone to do not disturb and leave it face down on the counter like you have something to hide. which you don't. so why did it feel so wrong? so disrespectful, here in jimin's kitchen? you gnaw at your cheek.

jimin has his back to you so thankfully you're spared of having to gage his expression. he's probably sent a million thirsty texts so he knows what they look like, knows that he shouldn't be surprised. still, he shifts from foot to foot uneasily. the only thing that makes him stop is you leaning wordlessly over him to lower the stove to a simmer, turning the tap on to wash some rice and hum quietly. here was jeon jungkook, arguably the biggest stud on campus blowing up your phone on a friday night but nothing felt different. you'd always choose him and jimin knew that.

"what do you think of egg fried rice?" you ask over your shoulder. "i haven't made it in ages. the one with the veggies?"

jimin smiles. "i love that one,"

x

x

x

"he's not back yet?" you ask when yoongi lets you into the flat, shoulders deflating childishly. he gives you a lazy shake of his head before nudging you to the sofa to take up your usual spot on the matted cushion in the corner, kicking your shoes away and sitting cross legged. yoongi and namjoon's flat was only round the corner from jungkook's, a worn down little two-bed that smelled rather questionable at times, but it quickly became a familiar place. a safe place. especially because of how often you'd come over while jungkook was running late at class or the gym or photo-hunting. coming to terms with the fact that you were sleeping with jungkook wasn't that hard, but being friends with his friends was.

"it's leg day. you know how jungkookie feels about his chicken calves," yoongi says before flopping down next to you. namjoon was tucked into the other side with a book, effectively squishing you into yoongi with his big shoulders. if jungkook was here he'd pout about having nowhere to sit and the thought only makes you more pleased. "he'd be there until sundown if you weren't waiting for him."

"are you sure you're one to talk about chicken legs?" you reach to tickle yoongi's knees and he barely manages to flinch away in time.

"i love my chicken legs the way they are, thanks. can't say the same for your boyfriend though."

you freeze. "i told you to stop saying that, yoongi. you know he hates the b word. one more slip up and you won't ever see me here again. last time he avoided me for two weeks!"

"never see you again? doubt it. your hair clogged the shower drain yesterday so you pretty much owe rent at this point," yoongi keeps flicking through the channels on the television. "besides, i know what a man with a monkey on his back looks like. kookie just doesn't like being reminded of it because unfortunately for him there's no rehab to quit you."

a rush of blood goes straight to your cheeks. yoongi loves to tease you and you know that, second only to jungkook who actually does get off to it, but you still tap nervously on the carpet with your toes while desperately hoping for namjoon to step into the conversation with a weird conspiracy theory or black hole fact he read on an astronomy blog. anything to dig you out of this metaphorical hole you and jungkook are hellbent on ignoring. yoongi sees the way you curl in on yourself slightly, a sensible and collected flower like you reduced to a fidgety school girl. it's cute.

"hyung," namjoon says with his eyes still glued to his book. "stop winding her up or her face'll explode and then jiminie will come for your throat."

yoongi scoffs. "and? what's that short-ass gonna do, cry on me to death?"

"you're like two inches taller than him."

"two and a half, actually."

"so he really was a crybaby?" you scoot to fold your legs under you. "jungkook told me before but i didn't believe him! i've tried everything but i can never get a reaction out of jimin...i mean, if horny isn't an emotion."

"oh yeah, totally," namjoon puts an arm on the back on the back of the sofa behind you when he looks up. his silver hair brings out the beautifully rich undertone of his skin and it's difficult not to stare, being so close. "if the patriarchy hadn't fucked him up he'd be a real tree hugger, i'm sure of it. but the last time i saw him cry was...hmm..."

"five years ago," yoongi chimes. "when jungkookie got caught."

"ooooh yeah," namjoon nods. "but jimin and jungkook were super close back then. he was so protective of him, waited in the custody office for hours until they finally-"

"wait," you look between them. "caught? what do you mean?"

the boys exchange a glance between them. it's not like you didn't know that yoongi sells weed and often with namjoon's help. in fact, they often told you about their wild stories and close calls. but they had never mentioned jungkook being involved with any of that stuff, and neither had he. you always just assumed that he'd kept his head out of it, being a college student and all but yoongi's shrugging and namjoon's pursed lips tell you otherwise.

"jungkook got charged with possession as a minor," yoongi says. "i mean, seventeen but still. too baby-faced."

"jungkook sold for you?" you repeat, not quite believing your ears. he had always been the better off out of his friends that often did shadier things, but the more you got to know him the more you felt like the jungkook you heard about and the jungkook you knew were two different boys. it really shouldn't have come as a surprise, since he had practically grown up with yoongi, namjoon and jimin. his hyungs were his family and he'd do anything for them, there was really no reason he wouldn't take up their trade.

"oh yeah, almost a year. he was good at it too," namjoon laughs. "our kookie's good at everything if you give him enough chances."

"so what happened?" you press. "does he...does he still sell?"

"are you kidding? we got him out of all that shit the second he stepped out the office," yoongi rubs the back of his neck. "jungkook isn't like us. he's a good kid with a lot of talent and he didn't need to be doing all that you know? we convinced him to go to school instead but even then, jimin made us swear to look out for him because he left earlier than kookie."

"wow, jimin really hasn't changed," you lean back. "in like, taking care of people i mean. so is that when jungkook got into photography? he did talk about getting his first camera when he was like eighteen or something..."

namjoon nods happily in recollection. "yup! we were so proud when jungkook got accepted into university, especially after jimin and hobi. people from our town don't usually pursue higher education-"

"especially with kookie's record," yoongi laughs.

"why?" you blink at him.

"the weed was one thing, but jungkook also got a strike for violence."

namjoon winces. "hyung, he's gonna throw a tantrum if you tell her..."

"i don't care. she's fucking him, she has a right to know," yoongi retorts evenly, dark eyes swivelling to meet yours. his light hair is matted from under his beanie, barely missing his lashes. "a few years ago jungkook beat a guy so bad he had to go into emergency. it was pretty gross. broken nose, missing teeth, you name it. he's been on thin ice since but he doesn't act like it."

you take a second to digest the information. "do you...do you know why?" you waver, unable to keep the horror from your voice. "knocking a guy's teeth out? people don't just do that!"

"kookie did," namjoon sighs.

"but why? it's so...i just can't imagine jungkook doing something like that..."

"something like what?"

your head snaps to the doorway where jungkook can be seen only partially when he bends over to unlace his shoes, namjoon and yoongi simultaneously pinching your legs to wipe the wide-eyed look off your face. it was one of the many times when wearing your heart on your sleeve did not do you any favours. you just about manage to look normal enough within the half a second it takes for jungkook to come in, hair mussed from his post-gym shower and tee wrinkled from being stuffed into the bottom of his bag. his eyes look extra big today, nose and knuckles blushed pink from all the lifting. he couldn't look farther from the violent offender yoongi and namjoon described. in fact, the sudden urge to kiss him hello was near suffocating.

"i was telling her about the time you wore hyung's underwear for two weeks," namjoon explains, years of lying paying off with how smoothly he returns to his book.

"what!" yoongi splutters. "are you kidding?! a whole week, jungkook that's disgusting-"

the younger boy winces. "not the same pair!"

"wait. you took more than one?!"

"um..."

"how many. tell me right now you little shit."

"i promise they were clean!" jungkook says defensively, but his buck teeth show in a defensive little grin. it's impossible to be mad at him. "my washing machine broke, remember? and i never have change so i didn't go to the laundrette's and-"

"which ones?" yoongi's voice becomes obnoxiously loud with dismay. "tell me right now so can go upstairs and burn them. jesus jungkook you could have at least asked me, now i have to live with the knowledge that your bollocks is acquainted with mine until i die-"

"hyung they were clean," jungkook insists. "and if i asked i knew you wouldn't have let me borrow them!"

"yeah because it's gross! why didn't you just take joonie's?"

"i did. but he caught me and told me to take yours instead."

you just about manage to insert yourself between yoongi before he can grab a fistful of namjoon's hair while jungkook throws back his head in a loud cackle.

x

x

x

[jimin 7:58pm] you dont mind do u?

it's hard not to roll your eyes at his message, momentarily leaving your phone on the bed while you unclasp your bra. it wasn't the first time jimin had bailed on you last minute because of some girl he'd picked up for longer than expected. you're just thankful that this time he had the courtesy to tell you before you got to his house and burst into his bedroom without knocking only to see areas of your best friend you really did not need to see. even though you shudder at the memories - yes, plural - the sinking feeling of disappointment can't be masked. it's movie night.

[you 8:01pm] yh its fine

[you 8:02pm] but u owe me one i put on a bra for you asshole

[jimin 8:04pm] ofc babe

[jimin 8:04] just skip it next time :)

you snort before locking your phone and throwing it on the bed, padding over the room in your knickers to select some sleeping shorts off the floor. jisoo went home for a family birthday and seulgi had a deadline for monday, so it was safe to say you were alone for the weekend. you were used to being alone but you didn't like it; it was the reason why you'd always trudge to jimin's if the girls weren't home or even yoongi and namjoon's, even if it was just to take a nap on their sofa. you needed the noise, the background bickering. that's why there's only so much paint brush washing and kitchen cleaning you can do before reaching for your phone and messaging jungkook.

or at least that's what you tell yourself when he's in your bed within the hour, head resting on your stomach and his leg thrown over your ankles. you trace along the tattoo on his bicep closest to you, admiring the cohesiveness and line placement while jungkook dozes off, like he often does after sex. he's had a long week so you let him sleep, hair sticking up and mouth open like a toddler, so impossibly cute you can't help combing through his nape. jungkook doesn't often spend the night at yours so this was a rarity, and you had to admit he did look a little out of place in your tiny little room. he was far too big for your bed, one foot already hanging off, clothes and jacket hurled into the corner with only cheap fairy lights to rely on so you don't go tripping over his shoes at the door.

you could draw him like this. jungkook's eyelashes are short and pin-straight, eyebrows angled and distinctive. quick, sharp pencil strokes. he's got the faintest shadow above his top lip from where didn't have time to shave today. you'd use charcoal for his hair, black with a slight wave. a swooping curve for his nose, a more gentle line for his jaw. he looks harmless like this: not at all resembling the boy yoongi described.

"why are you so quiet, noona?" he grumbles into the duvet, eyes still closed. "you should be snoring my ears off by now."

you pout. "i'm too busy wondering how i'm gonna get your river of drool out of my pillow."

he snorts. "throw your sheets in on a fast cycle and voila."

"what fast cycle? i just press every button on the machine until it starts."

he opens his eyes. "you're an animal."

you laugh, tugging on the roots of his hair where your hand is still nestled inside. "how do you know so much about washing machines anyway?"

"my mum worked a lot growing up," jungkook yawns. "hyung did the cooking and i did the laundry."

you freeze. "you have a brother?"

"i swear i told you that," he scoots across your stomach, taking the pillow with him to position it over your hip so he can look at you properly. his eyes look glassy in the lights, lids hooded and hair pushed back. a real dreamboat wrapped in a hello kitty duvet. "two years older, same as jimin."

"no wonder jimin cares about you so much," you keep playing with his hair, watching his eyes droop closed. "he may as well be your brother." jungkook hums in reply, growing more and more drowsy from all the petting. "so...how come your mum worked so much?"

his eyes open to look at you, hesitating. "dad left when we were young. she didn't really have a choice."

"i didn't know that jungkook..." you pause. "that must have been hard."

he rolls to face the ceiling, like he's thinking twice before he answers. "not really. eomma's a badass, there's nothing she can't handle. yeah money and stuff wasn't easy, and it sucked when i was younger and didn't understand why hyung and eomma were so upset after what happened, but it's whatever. the three of us are so good together, you know? i like it like this."

you nod. because you do know. or, did. you wonder now if that's the reason jungkook got involved with yoongi and namjoon in the first place, to help out his family, but even you know some questions are better left unasked. instead, you chip away at jungkook while you can, since you know barely anything about him beyond student life and his friends. who knows when he would be in the mood to open up again. "so what does your brother do?"

"an accountant. for some fancy law firm in the city," he smiles. "hyung is super smart. like you."

you laugh. "you know i didn't finish my first major, right?"

"by choice. not because you weren't capable," he finishes, and to that you have no choice but to shut up. no one had ever put it that way before. "he's super quiet like you too, keeps to himself. gives really good advice. oh my god, and his kimchi pork stew - amazing!" his teeth gleam take up his whole mouth when he smiles, lines creasing around his eyes. "so many times when me and mum would argue, hyung was the reason why we'd stop. guess i got her temper."

you watch him closely. "you argued often?"

"at one point, yeah. not because we didn't like each other or anything, just..." you can see him hesitating again, cheek sucked in from where he chews it while staring up at the ceiling as if the memories are playing back at him on a projector. you keep quiet, let him get there on his own. "mum went through a phase where she dated a lot. felt bad that neither of us had a father figure and all that bullshit. she brought home some real dickheads, some top tier cunts i'm telling you. and i...wasn't exactly nice to them. ever since then i just hate seeing girls be pushed around by assholes, you know? it does something to me, i dunno. here," he lays a hand over his stomach. "i can't just watch. i can't. it's like i'm gonna be sick."

it's hard not to cry listening to him, seeing the lines in his forehead appear along with the crinkle above his nose. it made sense now, what yoongi told you about before. thinking back to the whole escapade with jinyoung in your kitchen, the whole thing hit you differently.

jungkook was exactly the kind of boy your old family would have frowned upon, reckless and thoughtless and emotionally-driven in the face of adversity. absolutely everything you were taught not to be. but you admired him for those very reasons. before you can start crying you sit up, silencing jungkook with a kiss before he can ask you what's wrong. it's firm and deliberate, your hands holding both his cheeks. he's breathless. "you seriously fucking worry me, slick."

"oh?" his eyes stay focused on your lips while he moves to you, positions you underneath him on the foot of the bed, pulling your thighs around his hips so you gasp at the feel of his semi on your soft inner thigh. he dips his head to kiss along your sternum, hand ghosting over your breasts before closing his mouth around your nipple.

"i nev-never know what you're gonna do next," you exhale shakily, arching into him involuntarily at the sensation. jungkook takes the opportunity to rub the pads of his fingers against your cunt, using the remnants of your arousal to help you along. sure enough you accept his fingers greedily, but he takes his time in stretching you out and easing in further, further.

his thumb gently passes over your clit and you shake. "never? not even now?"

you have to forcibly yank his face away from your tits to kiss him, slowly and with passion. his skin grows damp under your hands, muscles rippling under your touch from where he holds himself up on his forearms. he likes feeling the softness of your tummy against his, your thick thighs cushioning him snugly against you. just like always, it's torture having to pull away from you for a brief second to grab a condom, but the familiar chuckle you breathe out to see him speed back into your arms almost makes it worth it. you take the packet from him, about to tear it open before he grabs your hand with a cheeky smile. "in a minute."

before you can question him about it you yelp he tugs you by the hips, sliding up to angle your ass so your knees have no choice but to hook over his shoulders. jungkook's arms wind around the top of your thighs, thick and secure, nails scraping gently through your coarse curls before he pulls your legs apart as wide as they'll go and lowers his mouth onto you. the noise you make is just as embarrassing as always, so loud and uncontrollable, hysterical even. you've gotten used to being jungkook's fourth, fifth and sixth meal of the day but he steals your breath away every time, leaves you squirming and trembling and this instance was no exception. today he was feeling indulgent so he eats you out messily, makes sure he's loud enough for you hear every squelch and slurp. you physically shake when he sucks a gently kiss to your clit, proud of yourself for not screaming. jungkook, however, isn't happy about that and keeps sucking until you do. harder, harder, and then filling you up with his fingers so you have something to clench around when you cum all over him in a rush.

your back is still off the bed when he reaches your eye level again, the family sound of the foil wrapper ripping from the condom packet making you lift your head up to look at him. he's already rolling it down his length when he peer downwards, and even though you only get a glimpse of his blushing head he's sticky and hot with pre-cum. you wiggle in anticipation and jungkook laughs at your cuteness before leaning back down, taking your hands in his for a change. he can see the appeal, interlocking your fingers with his palms against yours and using only his hips as leverage to push into your sopping center, letting you move against him so he's lodged in as deep as he can fit before he starts rocking into you.

your moans are his favourite song, maybe that's why he wants to listen to them all day. he'd like to make you cum again but it's difficult for him once his hips start stuttering uncontrollably, no matter how much he tries to slow his pace. you let go of his hands then to take his face, his eyes closed when he feels you press your smooth lips to his cheekbone; an encouraging kiss. a go on, i want you to kiss. the moan he let's out before giving in is fragile and wispy, nose digging into your neck while he ruts against you to his end. you clench around him harder just to hear jungkook whimper again, pliant and weak in your arms. all of a sudden, out of nowhere you wish you could feel the rush of his cream spilling from you when he pulls out to discard the condom. he nestles back into your breasts afterwards, smelling himself on your skin. 

jungkook falls asleep smiling.

[luvrpop]

advil in the bathroom

source: homestuck pairing: n/a requested: yes tws: over the counter drugs (advil) word count: 1498 synopsis: dave gets an eyestrain headache, and goes on an epic quest for advil extra: shoutout to my discord server buddies for lending me some help with their master rap lyricism

There are some days where things suck.

Those are the days where you stay in your room and no one sees you until dinner, or until you decide that boredom will kill you faster than just sucking it up and hanging out in the presence of other people. You say that you make your best music on those days, although your brothers would probably disagree. To that you would respond that creativity comes from necessity or some shit, and Dirk would tell you that the saying is “necessity is the mother of invention” while Hal explains why that doesn’t apply to your situation at all. They’ll still listen to your demo at 3 AM that night, and they’ll still tell you that they like it. You know they might be lying just a teensy bit, but it’ll still boost your ego. 

But not every day is like that.

Your name is Dave Strider, and today actually hasn’t been that bad. 

You’ve been playing Minecraft with your friends all morning, which is one of your favorite things to do. You finally proposed to your best friend June, who doubles as your minecraft-gf-now-fiance, and the realm has been busy with wedding preparations. It’s been the ultimate will they won’t they of the century, and Roxy had been bothering you non stop about “putting a ring on it” for forever. Rose is going to be your best man, naturally, and Jade is going to be June’s. Dirk’s going to be the officiary. Hal spawned 64 diamond hoes as a wedding gift. It’s going to be fuckin’ awesome. 

For now, you turn off your computer and push away from your desk. You rub the bridge of your nose, hoping to stave away a headache from staring at your computer for so long that you know is inevitable. Rose has offered to buy you blue light tint shit for your shades, but you’re not interested in fucking up the lenses like that. Plus, you’re no bitch. You suck it up and head out to the kitchen like always, to rummage through the junk cabinet for an Advil or something. Hal is already seated at the island, reading something. He looks up when you enter the room, and you both nod in greeting.

June asked you once if it’s weird for you to have a robot for a brother. You had replied that you already had a robot for a brother so it’s no big deal, but you both knew that you weren’t serious. On top of it being sick as fuck to be able to say that your big brother is a super genius who built a super genius AI and then a fully functioning body for said AI, you just really like the guy. Plus, he helps keep things organized. Without him, you’d never know where anything is. Dirk isn’t messy, really the opposite. He’s very particular about where things go. The problem is that his idea of where welding supplies go is in the cabinet next to the fridge, where you adamantly believe dishes should be. And so on.

After a minute or two of fruitlessly searching for pain relief, Hal finally speaks.

“What are you looking for?” He asks, not looking up from his book. 

“Advil,” you say, shoving receipts and a neti pot back into the cabinet.

“I see. Check the bathroom.”

“Why?” The fuckin’ cabinet won’t close. “It’s always been in here.”

“Dirk was on a reorganization campaign this morning. You really missed out, dude.” He responds, watching in a bemused fashion as you do mad mental gymnastics to figure out how to stack empty inhaler boxes in a way that will let the cabinet door close.

“Yeah, okay, cool, but like-” You have to pause to catch the bottle of Pepto Bismol that you should have known wouldn't fare well on top of a bunch of empty boxes. “If it ain’t broke don’t fix it or whatever. Now I’m gonna die of eye strain, man, and Dirk’s gonna laugh at my funeral.”

“You know that saying doesn’t apply to him.” Hal says, and you know he’s right. Dirk’s more of an “if it ain’t broke, fix it weekly as to assure it remains unbroken” sort of guy. You snort, and finally get the door closed. Hal pats your shoulder (awkwardly, because the guy doesn’t understand physical affection for the life of him. You appreciate the gesture anyway.) as you walk by, and you begrudgingly make your way to the bathroom. The door is locked when you get there, and you jiggle the handle, just to be obnoxious 

“Dave, I’m going to kill you if you don’t stop jiggling the doorknob,” Dirk snaps from the other side of the door. 

You snort, and jiggle more aggressively.

“Dave.” “I have a headache.”

Dirk makes a sound that is halfway between exasperated and confused. “I- Okay?” 

“A big dumbass moved the Advil into the shitter, and I have a headache. So hurry up or unlock the door,” 

“Dude.”

“Unless you’re taking a shit. Are you taking a shit, Dirk?”

Silence.

“Dude, el mayo.” You can see Dirk’s face scrunch up at that. He hates you and Roxy’s incessant need to say acronyms out loud in stupid ways in your head. “Why’d you even move it? Did you just wake up randomly thinking: 'Hey, I know what I'll do! I'm just gonna obliterate Dave’s afternoon by holding his salvation hostage and then shitting near it? That’s really fucked up, man,”

“I don’t know how to tell you this, but the cabinet in the bathroom is literally called a medicine cabinet. This was inevitable.”

You kick the door half heartedly before stalking back into your room. You know he’ll bring you the medicine when he’s done, but you feel the tingles of a fire track coming on.

Fifteen minutes later, after turning down the Advil and locking yourself in your room, you’re convinced you’ve got the hottest shit since the meteor shower that killed the dinosaurs, headache long forgotten. You usher Dirk and Hal into the cramped bathroom (it takes a while to get them to comply, but you assure them that this shit will be legendarily mind blowing. And really, who could resist that?), and Hal calls sitting on the toilet lid. You’re obviously standing in the shower, so that leaves Dirk to sit on the floor. 

“Couldn’t we have done this in the living room?” Dirk complains, interrupting you as you go to start the backing track (it’s the Minecraft opening theme, with some shitty bass over it.).

“It’s atmospheric, Dirk.” Hal replies, shaking his head.

“Yeah, duh,” You agree. “Now shut the fuck up, I’m about to take you to school.

Check it. Yo, I’m chillin’ on the comp but my head starts splittin’ Messin’ with my game, and fuckin’ up my sittin’ It’s bad, it’s mad, like an angry dad But it ain’t nothin’ compared to the rhymes that I’m spittin’

So I log out, get up, and leave my room My head’s killin’ me, I’m dyin’, y’know I gotta zoom Roll up into the kitchen, I’m cryin’, tearin’ out my hair So imagine my surprise when that shit ain’t there

Who the fuck locked my Advil up in the shitter? The fuck is your problem, I’ll vague you on Twitter I got a hundred followers, you forgot that I’m famous, They’re willing and ready to tear you a new anus.”

You’re about to continue creaming these suckers, but Dirk cuts you off before you can.

“Okay kiddo, I hear you, good god, sit down Is this bathroom a circus? Cause you’re actin’ a clown

I’m so sorry to tell you- Even Hal can attest- I’m so sorry for shitting This bitch has got IBS

I’ll spare you the details- My shit’s soaking wet- But may I remind you?  That’s a medicine cabinet

So before you go cryin’ ‘I’m dying, I’m dying!’ Just study my flow,  Cause that shit’s inspiring”

Oh, hell no. Not in your bathroom. Time to go fucking crazy.

“Eyes wildin’, I’m freestylin’ I’m crushin’ cube bitches, I’ll minecraft you some stitches Relief should be accessible, Otherwise that shit is unethical,

So you better say you’re sorry For puttin’ my drugs above the potty,”

This time, it’s Hal interrupting Dirk.

“Firstly, Dave, shawty, That don’t rhyme with potty To pay for these lessons? You’ll need a scholly 

Your flow is vile, shit’s juvenile I think I’ve heard better from Terezi’s reptile

You’re frying my circuits, This shit is trash If I was organic, you’d give me a rash

I’ve got something to say,  I’ll say it concisely: Shut the fuck up! I’m not asking nicely,”

Well shit. Hal’s got it on lock. You and Dirk groan, and the song ends. Hal always gets the last word. 

The three of you will argue for the rest of the night over who wons (you did, obviously), and you’ll have a shitty microwaved dinner.

Today wasn’t so bad at all.

[lilnasxvevo]

Well, I couldn’t sleep because I took my anxiety medication to help me sleep and immediately started to feel kind of sick from it and then got really panicky because I felt a little sick which made me feel sicker, because when you’re me, that’s how this shit works.

So I’ve been on my phone for 2 hours doing this and that and trying to convince myself that I’m not actually sick.

Finally I looked up the symptoms for hypochondria because I was wondering, and uhhh it matched up a lot more than I thought it was going to.

Like—okay. So I don’t take my anxiety medication, which is actually a beta blocker and primarily used as a heart medication for most people, very often because it makes me drowsy which I usually don’t like, and often when I do take it I take half a tablet. Today was garbage, so I took a full tablet with my antidepressant. Immediately started to feel...off. No symptoms that I can properly explain, just the feeling that something was wrong. Mind you this was probably before the fucking pill even made it to my stomach.

I started feeling like my heart was somehow off, weak, which I realize is probably just a sensation created from the fact that I’ve been coughing my lungs out for a few hours due to binding while getting over a cold (and, I think, due to sitting outside for several hours without taking my allergy meds), and that made me very nervous, because it’s a heart medication, it affects the heart. I looked up what serious side effects the medication could have, and found out that it’s often not prescribed for people with asthma, because it can cause asthma attacks. I have asthma, I was diagnosed when I was 12, but because my dad convinced me I didn’t have it (??? pretty easy to do since even then I didn’t have most things I thought I had, but still, wtf?), so for several years it didn’t come up in any doctor’s appointments at all, until a new doctor I had asked why I didn’t have any medications for asthma in my record despite Having Asthma and I was like “Well I guess I don’t even know if I really have asthma, I mean I basically can’t breathe when I walk up hills in the wintertime but—“ and he was basically like “Gonna stop you right there, that’s asthma.” This is all to say that I do have asthma, mild asthma, but because I don’t bring it up very much I was worried that my psychiatrist didn’t know I had it and possibly wouldn’t have done so if she’d known I had it and now I was going to die. Now that I am writing about this I realize that I’m pretty sure I filled out an intake form for my psychiatrist that had that little section of like “check the box if you have this illness,” and I always check asthma on those because I like being able to check as many boxes as possible, it makes me feel accomplished.

Anyway, I laid down in my bed, because like I said, I was fucking trying to fucking fall asleep. Then my lip twitched, which never happens, and then another muscle twitched (I don’t remember which one, but it was another one that never twitches—the only muscles in my body that ever twitch are around my eyes when I’m stressed and sick). So I was like “Well I don’t know what that could signify but clearly it means I am going to die.” And then I went on buzzfeed for like an hour to distract myself from my impending doom. And then finally I went to the Mayo Clinic website to find out what hypochondria was, and was thoroughly chastised when I read:

“You may experience extreme anxiety that body sensations, such as muscle twitching or fatigue, are associated with a specific, serious illness. This excessive anxiety — rather than the physical symptom itself — results in severe distress that can disrupt your life.”

Like. There it is. Whipping myself up into a tizzy over muscle twitches.

I am fully aware of the...irony...? of self-diagnosing myself with hypochondria. But I feel like it’s worth pursuing because it’s negatively affected my life in a huge way. I was emotionally (though not intellectually) convinced that I had a peanut allergy for actual MONTHS last year, and still avoid peanut products sometimes out of habit and lingering suspicion. If something I ate had peanuts in it and I didn’t realize that until after I had tasted it, I would panic. There’s a story related to that that I don’t really wish to recount that I think convince several people I was frankly the “bad kind of crazy”. (Not that I think there’s a bad kind of crazy, but lots of people do.)

In the past 18 months I have felt dreadfully certain that I had brain cancer just because I was getting frequent unexplained nosebleeds (or at the very least, a tumor near the back of my nose that would surely soon reach my brain!!!), and had to have a doctor reassure me that my ongoing digestive problems (which are similar to IBS, basically, but I still don’t have a FUCKING diagnosis after at least 2 years of seeing doctors for the same old symptoms, and there are several things it could be) absolutely WERE NOT caused by any sort of stomach cancer or other kind of cancer. (She said that if I had cancer I would have visibly lost weight, which sounded suspicious and rude but I accepted it so I could sleep better.)

Going off that last point, I know for a fact that HAVING, undeniably empirically objectively HAVING, an illness that several different doctors have been unable to diagnose, has significantly increased what I call my “medical anxiety” and basically led to a huge uptick in—you know, the frequency and intensity of times I convince myself I have cancer or whatever. Add that to the fact that when I was away at college, there was very little food that I could eat without getting sick because of my illness (AGAIN, THE SYMPTOMS OF MY ILLNESS ARE OBJECTIVELY A THING AND CAN’T BE CONTROLLED BY MY BRAIN), and in my senior year I lived in an incredibly dirty residence hall with an incredibly dirty bathroom that regularly convinced me that I was going to get sick because of the gross stuff these mofos left all over the place (which is what reminded me that I’ve thought for a long time that I might have OCD—contamination phobias can be a big thing for some people with OCD.) So it’s no fucking wonder that I had a mental breakdown over winter break and didn’t want to go back to school.

Where was I going with this post? I don’t know. The point is this: I can’t fucking sleep because I have convinced myself I am dying after taking a medication I have taken many many many times without any perceived ill effects. It’s 4:30 am.

[clockworkotter]

semi random rambling, read if you want

so in the midst of all my body issues i’ve come to realize i’d rather be ripped than thin again, but for a really dumb reason that i’m totally okay with.

i’ve always been big, not really fat (well i’m super fat now but i mean growing up) but just...bigger stature and all that. I’m somewhere around 5′11 in height and was always taller and bigger even as a younger kid and people were so invasive and weird about it. Constant comments about it from strangers and people i knew alike. Everything from repeatedly telling me my height defined what I was going to do when I grew up. As a young child I would be terrified every time someone would exclaim “Oh, I bet you’ll end up 6 feet tall or more!” I’d never met anyone I knew to be that tall other than men so at that point I thought they were just flat out telling me I was a freak, but even as I grew older and understood that yes, women can be tall too it wasn’t a gender thing or whatever I was still terrified. Most people would tell me I’d be an athlete or a model and I’d just be left thinking wait am I not allowed to have other aspirations? Did I have no choice? Did I have to only choose between what I perceived at the time to be plain, rough and thick or super thin and always having to maintain being pretty? I mean clearly neither of those jobs are actually those stereotypes but bear in mind I’m talking about when I was very young and how I had a very hard time understanding a lot of small talk or platitudes because I took everything literally. 

I already didn’t fit in with my age group. Like... actually didn’t fit. There were a few other tall/big kids at my school but I’d have people I’d never met knowing who I was because they recognized the top of my head standing out over the rest of the kids in my class. I was excluded from a lot of things because my height and stature meant I didn’t realize my own strength in relation to some other kids my age, I was often treated as if I were older because people would mistake my age and, especially looking back with the knowledge of my autism and ‘late bloomer” status on a lot of social concepts, that shit was just confusing and scary as shit and really inappropriate coming from people who knew my actual age and still treated me based on my physical appearance. I had unwanted and unsolicited sexual advances and attitudes aimed my way, and that opened a lot of doors for abuse that we won’t go into. Back to more innocent consequences, I couldn’t wear a lot of the cute clothes I wanted to wear that my friends were wearing because they wouldn’t fit right.... not that I could have ever really picked my clothes anyway....but again, not something we’ll go into. 

I wanted to be small. I wanted to be cute. I wanted to be what I saw kids my age being, and I just couldn’t because I’d already grown past that. 

What really amuses me now that I’m older and, dare I say, wiser is the fact that I am arguably the most unattractive I’ve ever been due to my weight but my self confidence is just.... pretty much all time high. A lot of it has to do with escaping an environment when my own self image was constantly under attack, but it’s a really weird and freeing feeling to realize that I glance at myself in the mirror and can just be like fuck yeah that’s me, let’s go. 

Wait shit, I really got off point. I DON’T CARE I’M REALLY TIRED AND IN A LOT OF PAIN AND REALLY WANT TO RAMBLE AND LIKE 2 PEOPLE TOTAL MIGHT READ THIS SO HI LUCY I LOVE YOU 

Circling back to original thing, I had the super freeing realization that these days I would be fucking ecstatic to be a “thick, strong” girl or even a “thin” one who was always “dressed up and pretty” simply because those appearances would still house me at heart. Also would Ibe totally cool with being “manly” because while I am definitely more femme than anything I just literally don’t care what gender people might see me as. I always had such deep shame that I’d often want to play a masculine role when pretending with my friends but now I look back on the days of being the “prince” or the “boyfriend” as being fucking Utena or something. Utena-rose coloured glasses. Fuck yeah.

Honestly though, the legit reason I’m on this rambling post is that I was discussing cosplaying ideas with my husband and I realized that 2 of my main “dream picks” that I’d love to go around cosplaying as are fucking Zarya and Sakura from Dangan Ronpa.

So, in conclusion, I need to get ripped solely for cosplay purposes and I’m super OK with that, but I am also finally okay with myself however I am, even if I’m fat and partially crippled. I have people who genuinely love and enjoy my personality and lame jokes and crass mouth no matter what form I appear to them as so why the hell can’t I enjoy that too?

If for some godawful reason you read all this, give me some workout songs. I got a lot of gym time in my future. I’ll have to go slow as fuck and in a weird way since I have to work around my disability but it sounds fun so let’s fucking go.

[eyez-ff-blog]

○○ eyez | eight

May 8, 2015 – Berlin, Germany

The consistent knocking on the door was making him irritated. He had a late night working on some music—a wrong decision to make when he had a show the next day, but when a person can’t sleep he or she has to spend the time doing something productive. But now he was running on at least four hours of sleep, and it had become clear that it was all he was going to get. The knocking soon turned into an opened door, and he groaned softly. “Man, I just need 10,” He mumbled.

“You’re 30 late, my nigga. Wake up, we got shit to do today,” He heard Ibrahim’s voice, and he sat up slowly before running his hand over his weirdly forming dreadlocks. At this point it wasn’t even an afro anymore, and for some reason he was content with it.

“Other than sound check and rehearsals? That’s not until...” J glanced back at the clock and he took a moment to soak in the time. “Later. At least 2pm. It’s early,” He complained.

“I gotta go get Beija from the airport. You coming,” It wasn’t a request.

“Why? I don’t need to be there for that. She’ll see me later on,” He yawned softly before he looked up at his friend, who was now staring at him with an almost threatening look. “...You look like a whole single mom right now, my nigga,” He cracked a smile.

“Shut the fuck up,” The two began to laugh. “And get yourself together! By the time we get back from the airport it’ll be time to really get your day goin’, so you might as well come on. I’m giving you another 20 to get yourself together, then I’m coming back to get you whether you ready or not,” Before long, Jermaine was alone in his hotel room again.

J let out a tired sigh before he forced himself from the warmth of his sheets, trudging through the room before he entered his bathroom to turn on the shower. Undressing, he stepped into the steamy stall before he began to wash himself off.

J’s mind was now racing as it had been since last night—he knew she was coming back but he honestly wasn’t ready. He never would be at this point. The last thing he ever got to say to Beija felt incomplete and ornery. The two hadn’t spoke for months, and he was sure that everyone noticed the rift between them. But J wouldn’t dare let it show that he missed her terribly—he, at this point, didn’t feel at fault for how they fell out.

He was still irritated with her for how she approached him back on Act 1 of the tour. He knew she had a right to worry and to feel a way in some sense, though; J was just surprised that she cared enough to be that upset. Most women would jump at the chance to fuck with a rapper, and wouldn’t care what it took or who it ended up hurting. He knew that better than anyone. But he didn’t like how she overstepped boundaries with him. It was almost self-righteous in his eyes and he never wanted to feel beneath someone. And that’s how he felt now—he felt that Beija felt above him and his mindset, and that pissed him off more than anything. He’d never speak to her again and willingly suffer if it meant keeping his pride intact.

But God, did he miss her.

He missed their late night talks and her insightful views. Just being able to hear her voice, and her laugh...it calmed him. Seeing her in her most natural and somewhat unguarded was a delight for him. He felt like he was one of the few to ever see her allow herself to just be Beija and not the superwoman caricature that she had created. She felt tangible and relatable...soft and vulnerable. And he wanted to nurture it.

But that’s one of the main reasons he couldn’t ever speak to Beija again—fuck his pride, fuck his views, or even his feelings. It was the principle that he had already technically cheated on Melissa with B. He had a physical attraction that could be ignored, sure, but it was the connection and bond they were forming that became so obvious and unavoidable. If he was a different man, in a different time, Beija would have easily been someone he pursued. But the rules were different now. He couldn’t ever bring himself to be around her, knowing that with every day, he’d care for her more and more. He would never admit it, but this loss really was a loss to him.

He finally rinsed off his soapy frame, and ran the hot water over his face briefly to wake himself up. Once he was cleaned, he turned off the shower and exited the stall, stepping onto the towel that was placed in front of it. He dried himself off and proceeded to the bedroom, where he quickly applied lotion to his body and threw on his boxers, a t-shirt, and the label-branded sweats he had planned to put on.

Ib soon returned to retrieve him, and the two were off towards the airport. The ride was as general as any ride with Ibrahim was—the two talked about the last show as Ib played one of his many playlists via his iPhone. It was all normal, until Ib decided that there was something that needed to be cleared.

“I been peepin’ you and B,” Ib said, and J glanced over at the man as he raised an eyebrow.

“There’s nothin’ to peep—we don’t talk no more,” J said simply before he ran his hand over his wild head.

“That’s what I mean, though. What happened?” He asked, and J shrugged lightly. “Don’t be like that. We’re brothers, J. If you need to vent or whatever, just talk,” Ib urged.

“Man...” J let out a heavy sigh. “She flipped on me heavy. I don’t know where it all came from. The night before, she came by the room, right? She cryin’—and you know me, Ib. I ain’t just gonna let her sit there and cry. So we sat and talked, I consoled her. Then we watched some TV until we slept,” He explained.

“Stories match,” Ib slipped, and Jermaine looked at him with a slight urgency. By the look on Ib’s face, it seemed that he already knew that part of the story.

“She told you?” He asked.

“She slipped up about the sleeping shit, yeah,” Ib sighed a bit before he shook his head. “Look, J. I think I might be the cause of all this,” He said.

“What are you talking about?”

“When she told me what happened, I told her that she needed not to do that. That if the shit came out or if something happened, she was going to get painted as a hoe,” Ib closed his eyes once he pulled up to a traffic light, and J noticed the roll of the eyes under his closed lids.

“Yeah, because that’s how you do it—call her a hoe. You dumbass,” J groaned lowly. “No wonder she was goin’ off, you got her ass all fucked up in the head,” He said.

“Well what all did she say?” Ib asked.

“She was on some ‘I don’t wanna be written in one of your songs’ type shit. Like...number one, you don’t even know me like that for real, so chill. Two—who the fuck do I look like, Taylor Swift? She had some fucking nerve,” He shook his head.

“Damn...see I didn’t even know all of that. My bad, though. I wasn’t trying to make her feel bad,” Ib shook his head.

“You could have kept it to yourself, honestly. B wasn’t doing shit—you could have addressed me, and I would have taken care of it better. Next time, don’t meddle in my business. I’m grown and I can handle it,” J argued.

“Nigga...can you? I know you grown, and you can handle most things rationally. But you ain’t done one rational thing since you’ve met Beija. You would never let a female in your room if it wasn’t Beija, and we both know that. You act different around her—B may not know you, but I do. I was just trying to help and make sure she didn’t get hurt because you out here acting on emotion and not logic,” Ib pulled up to the airport as he spoke.

“If you want to help me, next time address me and not her. She was innocent in all of this, and now she probably feels like shit. I don’t fuck with that,” J replied, and Ib glanced at him with a knowing look. “What? You mad at me now? I’m being honest,” He explained.

“I’m not mad at you at all, man. I just hope you know what you doin’. But you know if you wanna still be friends with her, you gonna have to talk to her,” Ib said.

“She not gonna talk to me. She off it,” J convinced.

“Then get off it too, if you gonna be stubborn,” Ib shrugged before he got out of the car. “I’ll be back,” He said before Jermaine was temporarily left alone in the car.

“What a bitch,” J scoffed lightly before he leaned his head back against the headrest, listening to the music that Ib had left in the car. He yawned before he licked over his lips, rubbing his forehead slowly before he closed his eyes.

He was irritated with the whole situation all over again. He knew that Beija was pretty young—she would be 25 in a couple days, according to Bas—so he now kind of understood why she got to overthinking. He still couldn’t sit well with the way she tried to talk to him. And as for Ib, he saw it as a well-intention gone completely wrong. It wasn’t Beija with the feelings, so there was no reason she even ha to be involved. Now they had gone three months without speaking, and more than likely J was alone in wanting to rekindle the friendship. It was a situation that could have been avoided.

His eyes flew open when he heard the trunk open, and he heard that familiar melody of her laugh. He sank into his seat slightly as he heard the sounds of luggage being loaded, and the casual conversation between B and Ib. some moments later, the car was once again filled with people, and the drive back to the hotel was eerily silent.

It was back to business as usual for the rest of the day—Jermaine went to sound check and did rehearsals before getting ready for the show. He spent his time before the show texting Mel, and once he was set to go, the group got together in the common area to pray over the show.

“Who doing the prayer tonight?” Cody asked. “Because I can get on my deacon skills again if I got to,” He joked.

“Naw. Hell naw,” Dame laughed. “Hey B... Why don’t you give it a shot? Since you just came back and everything,” He suggested.

“Y’all sure?” Beija asked, and the group quickly agreed. “Okay then, let’s do this,” Everyone grabbed a hand and heads bowed before the room went silent. “Heavenly father, we come to you tonight to ask that you cover our performers with your grace and help them give a show that will showcase why you chose them to have this gift. Please bless our musicians, our band, our background singers, and everyone involved and give us all the strength to press through another crazy night. May this all be done in your will. In Jesus’s name, Amen,” She finished.

“Amen,” The room repeated before they all began to go their ways to start up the show. Since it was the beginning of the show and Bas, Cody and Dame were up first, Jermaine had a moment to himself. He ran a hand over his head before he sighed a bit, watching as B worked the backstage, making sure everything was the way it was supposed to be. He started to think about what Ib said before—if he wanted something to change between he and B, then he would have to be the one to break the silence.

When he saw that she wasn’t busy, he finally found it in him to approach her. “Beija,” He called out before she turned around, raising an eyebrow.

“Hm? You need something?” She asked.

“...To talk to you. Just five minutes,” He explained, and her expression seemed to tense a bit. “Please,” He begged softly.

Her face softened a bit before she let out a sigh, nodding as she nodded towards his dressing room. The two walked towards the dressing room before he closed the door behind them. She went and sat down on the couch before he sat down next to her. For a moment, everything was uncomfortably silent.

“You said you wanted to talk...so talk, Jermaine,” She sounded like she didn’t even want to be bothered. It was a bit discouraging, but he couldn’t stand having this on his conscience. “You gotta go up soon and I’m not holding you up.”

“Look, I’m sorry,” He said, and he noticed the skeptical look on her face. “I shouldn’t have put you in this stupid ass situation. It’s on me for not just being straight up and telling you how I felt,” He said. “But B, I meant what I said—you overstepped boundaries with me, and that doesn’t sit right with me,” He explained. “You made me feel like you were trying to be on a high horse and that turned me off.”

“I understand that,” Beija replied. “I’m sorry, too. I shouldn’t have said some of the things I said, either. I never meant to make you feel like I was trying to place myself above you. We’re equals, always know that. But I just didn’t want to be the reason you and Mel had any problems, that was my biggest concern. I only wanted to be your friend, J. You’re a great guy despite all of this and I felt like...I don’t know,” She mumbled before she sighed.

The room grew quiet again. “...I miss you, B. I miss our friendship,” He broke the silence again. “I know you probably don’t feel the same but it’s the truth. I wished you trusted me enough to know that I’d never try to make you feel like a secret. I was proud to say you were my friend.”

“And I was proud to be yours,” B sighed before she shook her head slowly. “I’m really sorry for what I said, J. I mean that...I never meant to sound arrogant. I was just confused and scared. I take pride in who I am... I try to do the right things, and I don’t want to be seen as less than,” She explained.

“Oh, I know. I know why you felt that way...fucking Ib,” He sighed. “You need to go speak to him because he owes you an apology too. But know that his intent wasn’t ill. He wasn’t trying to see either one of us in a bad situation but honestly, the only person who was really out of line was me,” J ran his fingers along the lines in his hand.

“So...do you think we could be friends again? Like we used to be? Or has that ship sailed?” B asked. “Either way, I’m glad we talked...I thought you hated me,” She admitted.

“What? Girl,” J let out a laugh. “I could never hate you, Imani...” He glanced over at her, and the two looked at each other for a moment before they let out a soft laugh. “I thought you hated me, honestly,” He revealed.

“No, I didn’t. I just was trying to keep shit from popping off,” She chuckled. “Like you said, I could never hate you,” She mirrored.

“Well...if you don’t hate me, and I don’t hate you, I don’t see why we can’t be like we were,” J nodded before he finally turned to look her in the face. “Because gotdamn it Anna-Mae, I miss ya,” He imitated.

“Shut the fuck up,” She let out a laugh as she covered her mouth, J letting out a loud laugh when she snorted. “You get on my nerves!” She complained.

“Nah but for real,” J said once he calmed his laugh. “Let’s make it clear—I won’t overstep my boundaries, okay? Friends and friends only, so you ain’t gotta worry. And from now on...if you want to know something, just ask me. Don’t let other people get you all worked up,” He insisted.

“Okay. I can deal with that,” She nodded before she stood up, holding out her arms.

J stood up before he pulled her into his body, hugging her tightly as he watched her head lay briefly against his chest. He knew that keeping things plutonic would be easy on the surface, but he knew that he was jumping back into dangerous territory. But he couldn’t deny the connection they had. His spirit clung to hers whether he liked it or not. He needed this.

The two eventually pulled apart, and she gently patted his chest. “Now, go out there and kick ass,” She grinned.

“Oh, you know I will,” He chuckled.

May 10 – Paris, France

“How am I supposed to dress for this shit again?” J sat on the bed as he had his phone pressed to his ear, looking at the bag of clothes he had sitting on a nearby chair.

“We goin’ somewhere nice so...I guess kinda dressy? Don’t know for sure,” Cody yawned into the phone. “I just got back from the store because I had to get me a shirt,” He explained.

“I think I got at least two dress shirts—maybe a pair of pants amongst all this shit,” J mumbled before he chuckled. “We really some bums,” He observed.

“Hey, that’s all you Caveman. I stay looking good no matter what. I’m just tryna look nice for the birthday girl,” Cody boasted.

“Boy—get off my line. I’ll see you in an hour,” J laughed.

“A’ight,” Cody chuckled before they hung up the phone.

Jermaine stood up from his position in bed before he went to his bag, rummaging through the different clothes before he found a dress shirt and a pair of slacks. Shrugging, he called up the front desk to send up an iron and an ironing board. Once it was brought up, he began to iron out his clothes. Today was Beija’s birthday, and because they had a show in the evening, Ib decided to throw her a ‘brunch,’ since they wouldn’t be able to really celebrate in the evening. It was kind of a good thing that J had finally gotten around to speaking to her, because today would have been way more awkward than it had to be.

Once he finished ironing, he laid his clothes out and unplugged the iron before going to take a shower, getting out to put on the deodorant and lotion before he got dressed. For his own comfort, he slid on a pair of all black sneakers. He probably had a pair of loafers somewhere in his bag, but he honestly had no time or patience for his feet to be cooped up within them.

Once he got himself together, he slid on his Rolex watch before he peered into the body length mirror, making sure he had himself together before he went to one of his other bags, opening the bag before seeing the blue wrapped box he had. It looked a little wrinkled, but it was still properly wrapped. He took it out before he grabbed his phone, hotel key and wallet before he left the room.

When he got downstairs to the lobby, he grabbed a taxi to meet everyone at the restaurant they had picked out—it was a seafood spot, and it was the closest thing they could get to what Beija enjoyed. When he exited the taxi, he headed inside before notifying the hostess of his arrival and the reservation name. He was led towards an area with a large table, and some blue decorations. Unlike the Carolina Blue he had at his own party, the shade was more of a Royal and Tiffany Blue. It seemed to be that he was the last to arrive.

“Oh, there’s the old man!” Cody joked, and he sucked his teeth playfully before he took the last available seat—across from Bas, next to Dame, and with Beija sitting at the head of the table. “What took you so long?”

“You want me to be musty? I knew y’all were fake,” J joked before he passed Beija the present that was meant for her. “Happy birthday. There’s a card in there too...I hope,” He said, and she sucked her teeth.

“How you not remember?” She laughed when he gave her an apologetic smile. “But thank you, J! Now we can finally get into this food,” She rubbed her hands together as the waiters and waitresses came around to get orders.

After everyone had gotten into the food and were speaking amongst themselves, Ib took it upon himself to stand up, gently tapping his fork against his glass. “Excuse me for a moment,” He cleared his throat, and the room went quiet. “Okay, so today is a pretty cool day—our girl Beija is 25. But this little shindig is also for another reason,” He explained. “You see, what a lot of y’all may not know was while Miss Demarco was running around being the best damn intern...she was also working on her masters. She actually graduated not too long ago,” He announced, before some people began to clap. “I put B onto Dreamville because she has a love for the music, a passion for this shit that I don’t see in a lot of people anymore. She’s a dope girl with a personality out of this world, class beyond compare, and is always ready to wow a room with one of her outfits. She makes a nigga feel severely underdressed,” He joked, bringing some laughter to the room. “With that all being said, it’s my pleasure to fulfill the promise I made to her when we met—since she is now with all her requirements, I like to introduce one of our new A&R’s on our label,” Everyone began to applaud again, and he gestured to Beija before she grinned, taking a stand herself.

J took the time to look at her, and actually see what she had on—her white blouse and black pencil skirt made her look like she was going to a meeting, but her gold jewelry and accessories gave it something of a party vibe. She just looked like she commanded a room. Her hair was still as curly as ever, her make-up was actually minimal if she had any on, and she smelled as she always did—sweet and almost enigmatically fresh. She just looked amazing...

“Well, that was very sweet of you, Ib! Thank you,” She chuckled. “But like he said—I really do love music. It’s my life, and I knew that if I couldn’t be a singer, then I would have to be an A&R. I was determined to make this my life’s work,” She paused before she placed her hands in front of her, clasping them together. “It feels good to be spending my 25th in Paris with people I care for, and are happy to work with. I hope that with time I will deliver, and bring talent in that reflects The ‘Ville’s ideology. I want nothing but the best for the company I work for—I want nothing but what feels right, for my family,” She nodded. “So I’m honored, and happy to accept the position. Thank you Ibrahim, and everyone, for making this a perfect birthday,” She smiled before she took a seat, and everyone clapped before they began to finish up their food.

Once everyone was finished with their food, the group paid for their respective meals and were heading back to the hotel to get ready for the rest of the day. Since Jermaine lagged behind a bit to help Beija with her other gifts, the two rode back to the hotel in a cab together. “I’m gonna have to send all that shit back home. I’m surprised I got so much stuff,” Beija said as J opened the cab door for her, allowing her inside.

“Shit, you might as well have been having a sweet 16,” He chuckled as he slid inside the cab, closing the door. Passing the instructions to the hotel to the driver, he waited for the driver to confirm where they were going, and he relaxed in his seat. He noticed that his present was still in Beija’s possession, and he nudged her playfully. “Open it.”

“Huh? Oh,” Beija looked down and chuckled before she undid the white ribbon and opened the blue box. Inside was a greeting card, and a leather bound book.

“I had this for your graduation, but since I couldn’t make it, it’s a dual gift now,” J said as he watched her undo the envelope with her name attached.

“To the Graduate,” Beija read the front before she opened the card—inside was a $500 Monopoly bill. “Lamarr,” She cut her eyes at him before he let out a laugh. “Time to start working for one of those companies you so despised at your liberal arts school. Good luck! I—you’re such a dick,” She laughed, but then noticed that J had written an actual note within the inside of the card. She began to read it out loud:

Beija, the amount of pride I feel in knowing you’re working hard to your goals is off the charts. You’ve been doing so much for the label and for me, and you barely complain as you stay up for what I imagine to be hard finals, crazy professors, and the dreaded group projects. You endured it all and now you get to walk across the stage with pride and know that everything you did was worthwhile. Not only are you hardworking but you’ve got a beautiful soul within. Please never forget it—it will take you far. I may not ever say it enough but know that I always appreciate you, and I thank you in advance for your service. Congratulations, you made it! – J

Beija finished reading, and she pressed her lips together before she closed the card, looking down at the leather bound book. It seemed a bit torn and worn, and she gazed at it in confusion as she took it out of the box. She unfastened it and opened it before she noticed J’s handwriting all over the pages. It was filled cover to cover. “What’s this?”

“Well, it wasn’t initially in that book...but that’s shit I was writing. From my senior year of high school, all the way to college,” J explained. “When you told me about how you were listening to my music during undergrad, I just got to thinking...I wanted you to get to know me a little better. To see what was inspiring me while I was in school,” He said.

“Wow,” B began to chuckle before she gently pressed a finger against the corner of her eye. It seemed almost as if she was swiping away a tear. “This is...wow. You didn’t have to, J. Honestly, this is such a thoughtful and kind gift...” She looked up at him.

“Hey, I just wanted you to have it. I still have the original copies so it’s no big deal,” He shrugged. “So this is me...opening up to you. I still remember that night you told me about your life, or a glimpse of it. I remember how it made me feel to know you better. So I wanted to share this with you,” He explained.

“You’re so dope for that,” B smiled before she embraced him in a brief hug. “I’m never losing this,” She laughed as she read through some of the pages, closing the book before holding it to her chest.

He couldn’t refute or fight the wave of pride that washed over him. She seemed so happy in that moment, and for some reason it made him feel better than ever. He never wanted to forget this moment, with her being at what seemed to be her happiest.

[moth-gay-blog]

1. When you’re sick who takes care of you? My partner, kind of? They just do things for me if I ask, but when I'm sick I tend to isolate.

2. Does anyone call you something other than your name? A few people do.

3. If you could walk in anyone’s shoes for one day who would it be? A neurotypical lmao

4. What is your comfort food? All food is comfort food.

5. How much do you relate to music? Uh depends on the song? This is too broad of a question.

6. When you’re sad, what do you find yourself listening to?

I don't really change the music I listen to when I'm sad.

7. Do you ever use words like DIZ, DAT, DA? No.

8. Have you ever put alcohol in a soda can? No.

9. Have you ever surprised someone by accident and they were doing something shocking? No.

10. Do you donate blood? No. Pretty sure I'm not allowed.

11. Do you have any tan lines? I don't tan.

13. When was the last time you cancelled plans at the last minute? I'm not sure.

14. When was the last time you had your neck kissed? It's been a while.

15. If someone wants to surprise you with a gift, what are you hoping it is? Something not super expensive because then I'd feel bad c':

16. Imagine your bf/gf proposes to you at a baseball stadium and they put it on National Television. You don’t want to get married at all. Would you say yes to save him or her the embarrassment? Lmao well my partner is already well aware that I don't want to get married, so this would't happen. And since I literally JUST started dating my boyfriend, I don't think he'd do this, either.

17. Do you follow any local music and/or bands? No.

18. What is the last thing you put in your mouth? My finger.

19. Do you wear ankle or no show socks? I wear normal socks? Idk what they're called.

20. What do you think about man purses? I don't understand why bags and purses have to have a gender signifier in their name.

21. How late will you stay up tonight? Idk.

22. Do you owe any money to the library for overdue books? Nope.

23. Last time you cut yourself shaving? Idk, I haven't shaved in ages. Except my head, but my clippers have a blade guard thing.

24. What’s better french manicured nails or painted? Uhhh.

25. What is your favorite scent from Bath and Body works? Idk. They're expensive, the only things I have from them are things I stole from my mom or got as gifts. They all smell good, so whatever.

26. Has a employee in Victoria’s secret ever sized you for a bra? Back when I wore them, yes.

27. Has a mate ever surprised you with new lingerie? I don't wear lingerie.

28. Have you ever eaten a spoonful of sugar? I used to eat sugar cubes, that's about it.

29. Have you ever set up a fake myspace account? No...

30. Your friends boyfriend is hitting on you, do you tell her? Um yeah, that's kind of. Not good. Unless said friends are polyamorous, that's not cool.

31. Ever been hit on by the opposite sex? I've been hit on by people of several genders. Can't tell if they were all serious though.

32. Ever passed out on the bathroom floor? Yes.

33. Ever danced on a pole? No.

34. Do you have pictures of yourself in a bikini? I've never worn one, so.

35. Name something you’ve compromised for someone else? My well being.

36. Last time you visited someone in the hospital? Several years ago.

37. What do you think about the name Willow for a baby girl? I have no opinion.

38. Is there someone on your mind who shouldn’t be? No.

39. Is Santa Claus a pervert? No. He's based on St Nicolas, who was definitely not a pervert. Nice try being edgy, though.

40. What do you think about online relationships? Where it stays online only? I'm in a long distance relationship that began online and is pretty much just online and through text. Sometimes that's the only option, if you live far away and can't afford to see each other in person. There's nothing wrong with that.

41. What about long distance relationships? See above.

42. Can people really love one another without actually meeting? See above.

43. Do you have any hand me downs? Only if you count clothes bought at a thrift store.

44. Last leftovers you ate? I'm not sure.

45. Have you ever had your fingers slammed in a car door? Not a car door, no.

46. Ever broken any bones? No.

47. Would you go to an ultimate fighting match? Mmm I'd rather go to a pro wrestling match. I don't really know who any UFC fighters are.

48. How weak is your stomach? Well, if you're asking if things like blood make me sick, then pretty strong I guess. Physically, though, I have IBS, so my stomach feels pretty fucked up a lot of the time, depending on what I eat.

49. Ever tell someone “I told you so”? Yeah.

50. Do you like trampolines? Yeah.

51. Have you ever seen someone get caught stealing? Only when I worked retail.

52. Do sinners have more fun? Uhh, you do realize that even in the Christian faith, everyone is a sinner? So this question is stupid.

53. Would you ever get sleeves of tattoos? Sleeves require too much cohesion and planning.

54. Ever peed your pants in public? No.

55. How do you express yourself when you’re mad? Yelling.

56. Who’s birthday is next? Kelsey's was the most recent, we're having a surprise party for her on Satuday. After her, I think my mom's is next.

57. Does everyone tell little white lies? Yes.

58. Did you know a lot of towns open the mall early so the old people can walk around & get exercise? Okay. Mine doesn't.

59. Think of a good survey question; No.

60. Do you tilt your head when you take a picture with someone else? Idk, maybe? If I have to to be in the frame, I guess.

61. What does body language say to you? No idea. I'm borderline and autistic so there is a 99.9% chance I will misread your body language at any given time.

62. If you could read minds, whose mind would you want to read first? I wouldn't want to read minds.

63. What is the best disguise you can think of? Fuck if I know.

64. Would you feel safer if a police officer lived on your street? A cop lives directly across the street from me and I hate it. I hate cops. I feel one thousand percent less safe in the presence of those pigs.

65. What do you think about raves? I've been invited to a few before, but the idea of being that close to people I don't know is unappealing. Also strobe lights make me nauseous.

66. What do you think about skinny pants? That's pretty much the only pants I wear, besides yoga pants.

67. Should guys wear skinny pants? Wear whatever you want, holy shit. Pants aren't fucking gendered, you cis trash.

68. Do you own a pair of cowboy boots? No.

69. What about a cowboy hat? No.

70. Why are you taking this survey anyways? Because I'm restless and I don't know what I want to do!!