#that’s it I’m gonna stop worrying about this shit

[hearts4chriss]

𝑹𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒉!𝑫𝒐𝒎 𝑩𝑭!𝑪𝒉𝒓𝒊𝒔 + 𝑺𝒖𝒃!𝑷𝒐𝒄 𝑮𝑭

𝐑𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡!𝐃𝐨𝐦 𝐁𝐅!𝐂𝐡𝐫𝐢𝐬 𝐱 𝐒𝐮𝐛!𝐏𝐨𝐜 𝐆𝐅

There’s no doubt this man is ROUGHHH when having sex.

He’s overprotective of you especially when you guys are out and you’re wearing something short and tight.

he hates when you tease, which normally results in him fucking ur brains out.

His favourite thing to do to you when you’ve either, pissed him off, teased him or didn’t do what he asked is edge you.

He gets off watching you beg to cum as he pounding into you with no mercy.

“N-no Chris! Please l-let me cum!”. You’d cry out, already shaking from the previous times he’s edged you.

“Shouldn’t have been acting like a little slut today and you would’ve cum 4 times already”. He groans deep in ur ear continuing to ruin you.

Definitely fucks you in the bathroom at the party and leaves you with cum dripping down your leg.

Leaves you shaking every time, he won’t stop until he feels you either learned ur lesson or he made you feel good.

Loves the sound ur ass makes when he’s fucking you from behind, he’s always touching it, Grabbing it, slapping it all of the above that man loves your ass

Will leave you marked up in hickeys all over ur thighs, tits, inner thighs, as a reminder of whose girl you are incase you forget.

Definitely chokes you while your in missionary / fucking you from behind.

Pulls ur hair but neverrrr where he hurts you

Made sure to establish a safe word

Degrading is his favourite thing, he loves it.

“Fuck- such a little slut, keep making those noises for me yeah?”.

“God ur pathetic, about to cum already?”.

Don’t even get started on dumification.

“Such a dumb whore, fucked out on my cock”.

“Aww look at you, all fucked out from how good I’m making you feel”.

“Wow, I thought you couldn’t get any louder, god you whore”. He’d say this while also trying not to moan because as much he’d never admit it, he loved how you wrapped around him perfectly.

he’d always be quick to remind you who you belong to Like THATS HIS GIRL ( he’s also hella jealous so he’d take you laughing at one of matts jokes, than he’d walk in and thinks your flirting. )

“Your mine right? Or should I call Matt? Seemed to be all over him”.

“can. He. Fuck. Better. Than. Me?”. He’d say all this while thrusting harder in between each word.

“Yeah keep moaning my name baby, let all the neighbours know whose girl you are”.

BIG BREEDING KINK LOVES CUMMING INSIDE YOU

“fuck ma- gonna stuff you with my cum- you’d like that wouldn’t you?”.

“gonna fill your pretty pussy up- shit-“.

The sight of your juices mixed with his could get him off any day

Has a hidden photo album of pictures of you post sex and videos of you screaming his name. Don’t even get me started on the my eyes only.

Loves cockwarming, typically after aftercare he always wants to be close to you.

Despite how rough he is during sex, that man ALWAYS takes care of you after.

Right after you both finish after hell, how many rounds? He’s quick to check on you and sometimes worried he went too far.

“hey baby, you okay? Was it too much?”.

“shh i got you, gonna take care of you now ok?”.

“You did so good for me pretty girl”.

He immediately run you a warm bath with your favourite bath bombs.

He’d clean you up first because he can wait, he’d rather have you feel better than him.

You’re super sensitive after sex so he always takes his time, staring on ur inner thighs first.

“Let me know when it’s too much ok?”.

Despite you secretly loving the rough sex, and you both established that, he would always reassure you.

“Your so pretty yk that?”. He would whisper while helping you in the bath.

“my girl, how’d i get so lucky”.

“Oh and ur definitely not a whore or s-“.

“Chris, baby, I’m okay don’t worry about it”. You’d giggle tiredly playing with the soap.

“I know but ur covered in hickeys like everywhere”. He’d scratch his head.

“Chris please ur back has seen better days”.

He’d go change the sheets to fresh clean ones fresh in the dryer.

Typically you’d want to sleep after so he played those calm noises you like and a glass of water.

right after you dried off with the help of him as you could still barley process what happened, you’d sleep in a shirt of his and a pair of panties.

You’d fall asleep once immediately in the warmth of his arms.

“There you go, sleep well baby”.

tag list ☆

@mattsleftnipple03 @sturniolopowers s @gdsvhtwa @rac00ns-are-c00l4 @worldlxvlys @chrisslut25 @princessbetsy123-blog @mattslolita @guccifrog @blahbel668 @mattsneezing @trickywritters @hearts4chris-deactivated2024040 @nonamegirlxsturniolo @luvmxtt @theyluv-meee @hoesformatt @luv4kozume @kikisturnioloo @itzdarling @pepsiimaxx @babyddolly @iiheartstef @junnniiieee07 @vicsguitarr @ast3ro1dzz @sturniolowhore @st7rnioioss @emma4eva @braindead4l @ihearttsyouu @kqyslyho3 @imaslut4kehlani @sturnsfav @sunsetsturniolos @sturniololoverr @gamermattsgf @lilyloveschris @dlyansworld @chrisloyalgf @soimightlikeoldmen69 @abbie13sworld @ineedchriscock @sturniol0s @chrissgirlsstuff @luhsexcbihh @nickgetsmewetter @rubyjaneaxx @love4chris

[moonstruckme]

hi!! ngl i’ve never actually requested anything so im kinda nervous to do so but if it’s possible, do you think you could write something along the lines of eddie munson with like an anxious reader? maybe she has a panic attack and he’s there to help in the aftermath or just an overall anxious person. i know you’ve written something similar with the marauders so i hope that this is okay for me to request. i love love love ur writing!

Thank you for requesting lovely <3

cw: aftermath of panic attack

Eddie Munson x fem!reader ♡ 642 words

Eddie’s rambling hasn’t stopped since you sat down, but it’s become background noise for you, like ocean sounds or the music they play in grocery stores. You know well enough how to get yourself through this. His hand on your back is a steady, if somewhat frantic, reassurance. 

“You okay?” Eddie asks, his rhythm slowing as you blow out a lungful of air, bending your head towards your knees. You hold up a weak thumbs-up, and it picks up again. “Shit, yeah, you’re okay, baby. You’ve got it.” 

You feel bad that this is Eddie’s first time dealing with you like this, though it’s nice to be in his trailer and not at the mall or in a restaurant or something. His couch is familiarly uncomfortable, lumpy in places and nearly flat in others, and the air smells like weed and grease, the electric fan Wayne brings out for the summer months whirring diligently in the corner. You’re glad Wayne’s not home now, though someone should probably be around to comfort Eddie after he’s done comforting you. 

“Anything I can do to help?” he asks again. “You want some water or something?” 

This time, you nod. Your boyfriend all but springs up from the couch, grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge and hustling it back to you like he’s training to be one of the NASCAR pit stop people. You take it from him, rubbing the condensation from the bottle on the back of your neck before taking a sip. The chill is grounding. You rest your head back on your knees.

“You feeling better, sweetheart?” Eddie grabs another water bottle from the fridge once he sees what you did with the first, holding it to your neck. “You seem better. Sounding less like Darth Vader.” 

You laugh a little, and he laughs back nervously. 

“Yeah,” you say, “it’s mostly better now.” 

He blows out a breath. “Phew, okay. Jesus. You’re a fucking champ, you know that?” 

“Thanks,” you chuckle. “Sorry I put you through that.” 

“I’m pretty sure I’m not the one who went through something just now, so consider your apology heard and nullified.” Eddie’s lips come down on the back of your head. “I’d tell you where to shove it, but I’m feeling kind of bad for you right now. Count your blessings.” 

“Oh, I’m counting them.” You smile down into the semi-dark valley between your legs and chest, taking one more deep breath in and out before lifting your head. “Okay, I’m good.” 

“Yeah?” As he pulls back to see you, your boyfriend doesn’t look so sure. His eyebrows are pulled up in the middle, freakishly huge eyes full of freakishly sweet worry. “Good enough for a hug?” 

You hum your assent, and in the next second you’re in his lap. Eddie goes all the way, curving his body over yours as his arms wrap protectively around your back and his cheek squishes into yours. 

“It scares me when you’re scared,” he admits. 

“Sorry.”

“No—goddamnit, what did we say about that? You’re lucky you’re cute, I swear—don’t be sorry. Obviously it’s not your fault, I’m just sorry that happened to you. It seemed really fucking shitty.” 

“It felt really fucking shitty,” you agree. “I’m wiped.” 

“Honestly? Me too.” Eddie chuckles. “Nap?” 

“Yes, please,” you say, but wriggle closer to him, preventing him from getting up. Eddie doesn’t seem to mind. He starts rubbing your back again, contemplative. 

“You wanna sleep here, or on the bed?” 

“Bed,” you answer immediately. 

“...right. But are you gonna get up and go to the bed?” 

You make a thoughtful humming sound, grasping him tighter. “Probably not. Maybe you could carry me?” 

A sigh, long and dramatic. “Yeah, maybe I could.” Eddie’s hands move to grip you more securely, and he grunts as he stands. “You’re seriously lucky you’re cute, trouble.” 

[everybodyshusband]

teaching a skill

mushy may ; day twenty two !! (approx. 860 words)

read under the cut or on ao3 :)

Aeon flops down dramatically onto the couch, only narrowly avoiding clocking his head on Mountain’s blanket-covered hip bone. “I’m so bored.”

Mountain hums. “Want to sit with me and read, bug? You can come under the blanket with me,” he sing-songs.

“Nooo,” Aeon moans. “I’m so hungry I can’t focus on anything which makes me bored but I can’t do anything because I’m hungry.” He glances up at Mountain and whacks his shoulder when he sees the earth ghoul smirking. “Don’t laugh at me, Mounty, I’m dying.”

Mountain sighs and puts his book down. “You wanna help me cook something then? I was going to make brownies later but I can make them now to give you something to snack on.”

“Please!” Aeon practically yells. “I’m gonna starve to death…”

“Come on. Up you get, buggy.” Mountain stands up and holds his hands out, pulling Aeon to his feet and leading him over to the kitchen. Aeon stands and watches as Mountain opens up drawers and cupboards, pulling out bowls, measuring cups, assorted ingredients and his old beat-up recipe book. “Alright, all we have to do is follow this recipe and then in about an hour, we’ll have some delicious brownies for you to eat. Are you ready?”

Aeon nods but… “I’ve never baked anything before, I– I don’t really know how to do it.”

“Hey, that’s alright,” Mountain assures him. “I’ll help you. I’ll set up the scales for you while you have a flick through the book and find the brownie recipe. I’ll be under the sweets category.”

Aeon shoots him a thumbs up and picks up the book. It’s one that Mountain has compiled himself from magazine cutouts and handwritten recipes, some passed down from the ghouls that came before him and some new creations from the earth ghoul’s own mind. By the time he’s located the brownie recipe, Mountain has set up the scales and is already beginning to measure out the flour; it’s no surprise to Aeon that Mountain remembers the measurements by heart, brownies are a once a week occurrence at least in their pack.

“Ah, perfect, thanks, Ae. Do you want to take over from here? I’ll be here helping the whole time.”

Aeon nods. “Yeah, sure. Thank you, Mounty.”

He gets a pat on the back and a kiss on the top of his head in response. “You’re welcome, bug. Now c’mon, Dew messaged and asked if I could make him something to eat. Lazy bastard doesn’t want to lift a finger and bake them himself even after I told him he could do it himself if he wanted them that badly.” Aeon turns to Mountain, eyebrow raised. “Fine,” the earth ghoul relents. “I said I’d be happy to and that I love him very much and did he want sprinkles and melted chocolate on his brownies?”

Aeon snorts. “That’s more like it,” he laughs. “I was getting worried for a second there, Mount.”

From there, the time passes quickly. Mountain jumps in to help or give advice whenever the quintessence ghoul asks for it, but for the most part, Aeon is doing well without too much guidance. The only real trouble comes when it’s time to decorate them; Aeon has no idea how to do that without messing up all his hard work by making them look atrocious.

“That’s half the fun,” Mountain argues. “Plus it’s endearing if they look a bit shit, and personally I think they taste better if they don’t look all fancy,” he confesses. “We’re only dripping on melted chocolate, you’ll be fine, I promise. Here, watch me do the first tray and you can copy that for the second, yeah?”

“Yeah, sounds good. Thanks, Mount.” Aeon watches intently as Mountain dips his spoon in the melted chocolate and picks up a decent amount of tempered chocolate on the end of it. The earth ghoul spins it around to stop the chocolate from dripping and Aeon is surprised that when Mountain reaches the tray of brownies he just… goes for it. The chocolate drips every which way and covers the brownies in a messy drizzle that Aeon can’t deny looks absolutely delicious. When it’s his turn, he does the same, opting for a slightly more uniform pattern than Mountain’s but the earth ghoul assures him the slab still looks more than edible. The two of them take it in turns with the container of sprinkles, covering their squares in the colourful blobs.

They cut the trays into brownie-sized pieces and compile both batches into one big container, making sure to set some aside for the two of them—and Dew. At a nod from Mountain, Aeon grabs one out of the container and takes a big bite, eyes widening in delight at the flavour. “I made that,” he says with his mouth still full. “I made that and it tastes so good!”

Mountain grins taking a bite of his own brownie “Yeah you did! It’s really good, well done!”

Aeon smiles widely, stuffing the rest of the brownie into his mouth gleefully. “We gotta go find Dew,” he urges. “I wanna go brag that I can cook and he can’t!”

[katyawriteswhump]

(i'm still) watching you—harringrove microfic

my first attempt at harringrove and probably totally weird like my usual shit, so… yeah, nervous. but I love prompts/challenges too much to resist… Pls be kind 🙂 

WC: 914. For @harringrovemicrofic prompt, green (I also got a passing mention of Jason Carver in for the additional prompt.)

CW: None. Tags: angst, pining, chronic illness (Fibro/Chronic fatigue), enemies to lovers, h/c, no Upside Down AU, slightly soft Billy? Rating: M.

…

Steve hated sitting in the stands watching the Tigers win without him.

Hargrove rained all over the hoop, right until the full-time whistle ripped through Steve’s skull. Simultaneously, Billy ripped his vest off—shouting, thudding his chest, scanning the crowd.

His crazily soft-blue eyes rested on Steve. That smug grin faltered, and Steve’s heart gave a crazy little squeeze.

Billy’s attention snapped away. His teammates carried him on a lap of victory, and Steve shaded his eyes. Too fucking much. Since he’d got sick, the doctors had droned on about Steve having to pace himself. Today, that’d been a bust—all for the torture of watching Hargrove play.

Even though Steve hated him.

And he’d chew on that image of shirtless Billy for goddamn weeks.

“Stop bawling, Harrington.” Steve startled, squinted into the suddenly too-bright light. Tommy H waggled a stuffed tiger in front of his nose: “You can be team mascot. This one’s got even less backbone than you.”

“Jesus, I’m gonna punch your stupid face in!”

Steve pushed himself up. Despite his dumb threat, it took all his strength to stumble away. Halfway to the exit, he collapsed onto a seat, slumping forward with his head in his hands. The crowd stomped by, sending shockwaves through his aching bones. Nobody offered to help. Probably figured he’d bite their heads off…

A hand landed on his shoulder. “You okay?” asked Billy.

WTF? Steve flinched away. Up close, he couldn’t handle those stupidly long lashes and gorgeous eyes. “M’fine.”

“Want a ride?”

“You leaving already?” Steve gawked at Billy’s pecs. “Guess there’s only so much showboating even your fat ego can take.”

Billy arched his brow. “I’m sick of this shit. Your ex-teammates are fucking losers, you know that?”

Uh… Yeah?

“Whatever, dude. I’m leaving with Nance.” Steve had just spotted her with freshman golden-boy, Jason Carver, scribbling madly in her notebook.

“She’s writing an essay on that asshole. Couldn’t bag me. Seriously, I need space. Figured you might too.”

Space with me? “Jesus, you still never stop talking! You hate me. What’s your game?”

Billy shrugged. “I don’t hate you, man. It genuinely sucks you had to be benched. Don’t have to believe me, but I actually miss you.”

Miss humiliating me? Miss me rubbing my ass against you while you shoved me around!?! Guess I enjoyed touching you as much as I hated you. I mean, uh, I STILL hate you…

“I don’t need your fucking sympathy, Hargrove.”

“Not offering fucking sympathy.”

Steve’s heart repeated that crazy squeeze. He’d grabbed the hem of Billy’s green shorts before he knew it.

Don’t leave. I honestly can’t get up without help right now. Won’t ask for help, either.

Billy harrumphed vaguely, casually offered a hand. Steve clasped it—since when did he dig slippery palms?—let Billy draw him up and sling an arm around him. Even with Billy’s help, the effort of walking consumed Steve completely till he sank into the Camaro.

Billy winked at him from the driver’s seat. “Don’t worry, I’ll go gentle.”

“Jesus, I’m not gonna break.”

“You wanna go home?”

Yeah, I totally should. “No fucking way. Anywhere but this dump.”  

With minimal wheelspin, Billy tore from the school grounds. He didn’t play loud music. They didn’t talk much either. Seemed Billy did occasionally shut up. Only Steve fizzing nerves—WTF AM I DOING?—kept him awake until Billy slammed to a halt.

Steve blinked. “Where are we?”

“One of the few places in this shithole that’s not a shithole.” Billy hurried around and helped Steve from the car.

“I’m not a fucking princess,” Steve bitched.

“Whatever you say, pretty boy.”

“Screw you.” Steve’s glare melted into a laugh that he almost felt.

They’d arrived somewhere in the hills, which smelled of spring grasses. Steve slipped from Billy’s warm grasp—not without a dumbass pang—lay flat on the soft turf. Beyond the trickle of a stream, it was so quiet, he dozed almost instantly.

Then, through the blur of his lashes, he spotted Billy stripping his shorts. Christ, that ass!

Billy headed for the stream. His smirk was as mind-blowing as his body. “I skipped showers.”

“Fucking show-boater.” Steve snickered.

He watched Billy wade thigh deep, splash sparkling droplets over that lick-able, lithely muscled torso. He wished he could watch this a billion times over, ached to join Billy, then his eyelids grew too heavy, his fatigue winning, and… Shit!

Deep inside, something snapped. He slung an arm across his face and cried, drifted, then cried again, shamelessly sniffling. A brush against his arm stirred him. Billy lay stretched beside him, towel around his waist, chin rested on a fist.

“Tears are cathartic, huh?”

Steve rolled to full-on sneer at Billy. Ended up fixed on Billy’s lush mouth, fretting his own lower lip. “Quit mocking me.”

“I’m not. Tears help. Apart from when they’re too damn painful. You don’t have to say which those are.”

Billy reached out, as if to push hair from Steve’s damp eyes, then hesitated. Steve grabbed Billy’s fingers, like he’d grabbed for his shorts. He barely breathed. He clasped Billy’s stream-chilled knuckles to his own burning face, like his life depended on it.

“Meant what I said about missing you,” murmured Billy, as Steve drowned in those adoring eyes. “None of those dicks are half-decent rivals. It sucks we never got a chance to work through that tension and…"

This is a dream, right?

Billy’s fingers slid up through Steve’s hair, gently drawing him closer, and they tumbled into a kiss.

[autumn816]

Soulmate au + married to the job 🤭

Here you go!! Hope you enjoy :)

—

George massages his forehead. 

“Is it getting worse?” 

“Yeah.” He answers Alex. “I can’t believe that man is doing this to me.”

Alex snorts. “You can’t believe Lewis is staying behind to go over data and not notice that he has a headache?”

“It was a figure of speech, Alexander.”

They are quiet for the rest of the walking distance to Ferrari. 

Charles walks through the door, his eyes glued to his phone.

“Charles.” George calls. 

The Monegasque jolts, a shriek escaping him. The edges of George’s mouth curve up while Alex laughs next to him.

“Don’t do that,” Charles says. “You scared me. And stop laughing, Albono.”

“It was funny. Did you hear the sound you let out, mate?”

Charles pouts. Alex steps forward and kisses it away. 

“Alright, knock it off,” George says. “No need for PDA.”

Alex pulls away from the kiss and rolls his eyes. “You cannot be talking. You and Lewis are worse.”

“Which reminds me…,” Charles chimes in, “good timing. I was gonna just call you.” He shakes the phone in his hand. “You need to get Lewis out of here. Your man doesn’t want to leave the room. He has been there since morning. I don’t think he even moved once.”

Alex whistles. “No wonder your headache was so bad.”

“Where is my man?” George questions. 

“You have a headache?” Charles answers his question with a question. 

“Yeah. So where is the reason for my headache?”

“Come on. I’ll take you there.”

George and Alex follow Charles through the Ferrari facility until he stops in front of a room and pushes the door open quietly. George steps into the room and closes the door behind him. 

Lewis is sitting in front of a computer. A very shirtless Lewis. 

Now, look, George might be here on a mission but that doesn’t deter him from appreciating the tattoos adoring Lewis’ back, especially when his muscles flex. 

“As much as I love this sight—”

Lewis spins around in his chair, his eyes widening before he realises who it is. 

“—I would love it even more if it was at home.”

“George?” Lewis frowns, rubbing his eyes. “What are you doing here?”

“I reckon I should be asking you that, mate.” George approaches Lewis and comes to a stop right in front of him. 

Lewis places his hands on George’s waist as he settles on his lap. The chair creaks under the weight of both. 

“I know you’re married to the job but you’re also married to me,” George continues. “And I would really like to be home right now with my husband.”

“What are you talk—” Lewis cuts himself off and reaches behind to grab his phone. “Fuck! I didn’t notice the time.”

“Yeah, clearly.” 

“Should I be worried about how calm you are?”

George presses his thumbs into Lewis’ temples, earning a groan first and then a sigh with a shut of eyes. 

“I can get mad after we do something with that headache.”

“How did you—” Lewis’ eyes fly open. “Is your head hurting?”

“Terribly.”

“Shit! Sorry, I can—”

“Finish that sentence and I’m already telling you right now that we won’t be having sex for a whole month.”

Lewis knows how much George hates it when he closes off their soul bond, even temporarily. George despises it. 

“Right, sorry.” Lewis clears his throat. “I’m so sorry, baby.”

George softens. “How about you make it to me by coming home and sleeping it off?”

Lewis smiles, stealing a kiss from George. “Yeah, I can do that. Let’s do that.”

George slides off Lewis’ lap and extends his arm, pulling Lewis up when the older man puts his hand in his. “Let’s go home, my love.”

—

Mash-up trope

[mimsyaf]

Oh my darlings, I was just reading this sad article about girls doing “age preventing skincare” at age 12. TWELVE!!!

My sweethearts, some day if you live long enough you will be in your forties and your choices will be 1. middle-aged and well-moisturized (if you have enough time and money to maintain this) 2. middle-aged and kinda wrinkly (it me) or 3. unlined but oddly puffy and taut (again, takes time and money to achieve). All are perfectly fine ways of being a person in their forties.

What you will never be when you are in your forties (or fifties etc.) no matter what you do now, is truly youthful looking. Time comes for us all, my darlings. So just… maybe… don’t torture yourselves? There’s so much LIVING to do. Fuck glass skin this and dolphin skin that. Just try to become AT PEACE IN YOUR OWN SKIN, no matter what it looks like. Something I’m still working on!! That’s what lasts.

I have only one friend my age who stays eternally young in her Facebook photos. Absolutely stunning, never ages a day. Her skincare secret? Ten years ago, she accidentally ran a red light and wrapped her moped around a pickup truck.

I miss her every day.

I bless you: more life. Wrinkles and all.

[heavy-buddy]

is it just me or is the Palestine stuff majorly performative.

[arionawrites]

1. it’s my 24th birthday today, so my goal of being published by the time i’m 25 is now a one year looming monster, but i never specified what kind of published and am currently looking in various literary magazines that are recommended for writers who have yet to be published, so i’m surprisingly confident that i can make it work? and tbh even if whatever i write isn’t officially published before my 25th birthday, if i have someone in the process of being published then i’ll be happy!! no matter what though, i’m gonna try to be proud of myself for at least giving it my best shot!!

2. i honestly love that my birthday is on the ides of march because the ides of march meme shitposting is only a thing on tumblr but it also being my birthday makes it easier to like. be excited about the ides of march outside of tumblr. like even in person i can be like “it’s my birthday! i’m an ides of march babe (:” and if someone is like oh what’s that? or if they say something along the lines of oh like julius caesar? i can be like yep!! and even if it’s a small thing outside of tumblr it brings me immense enjoyment and amusement being able to bring it up off of tumblr

3. transportation situation has been very rough since june 2023 when i totalled my car, my gap insurance are being assholes and i ended up putting my foot down on the phone with them yesterday which i’m pretty proud of because i am NOT a confrontational person (something i’ve been working on this past year, so seeing some improvement with my ability to hold my ground and not be a pushover yesterday was very cool!!) i was told i’d get a response from them by friday next week no matter what, and if i don’t then friday of next week i will continue to wreak havoc upon them. but my moms car which i’ve been using since my accident broke down yesterday, hopefully it’s fixable but my parents were saying it might be done for, so trying to think of how i’m gonna get to work next week is kind of stressing me out lmao, but for now i’m just gonna focus on enjoying my birthday the best i can because i don’t want to start off being 24 with an overwhelming anxiety for something that won’t be a potential issue until monday. plus i already messaged my boss today to let her know that i’m going to do everything i can to make it work out but just so she’s in the loop and knows of the potential of me not being able to make my morning shifts (one of my coworkers said she’s more than happy to give me a ride for our afternoon shifts which does help relieve some of the stress!) and i told her i’d let her know for sure sunday so that if necessary she can have time to figure out someone to fill in for me in the mornings!

overall: life is weird and i ended being 23 yesterday with a shitty situation but a positive outlook and i am going to enjoy my first day of being 24 no matter what because honestly i fucking earned it. happy friday everyone, i hope it’s a good day for you and me both!

[starlooove]

It really pisses me off when y’all like. Meme-ify and defang hate groups to the point that y’all don’t take them seriously and then get confused when real shit starts happening. Like the way y’all’ve started talking about trump on this app makes my ass itch

[seeminglyseph]

Sometimes. Hyperbolic anger is funny. But especially deadpan hyperbolic anger.

I like to declare people I have never met, will never meet, and never intend to interact with my nemesis over very small things while lying on the floor and not moving.

That one guy on YouTube that critiques Canadian TV shows badly from my perspective? My nemesis. I think his name is Kurtis. I am putting no effort into knowing him or hating him. But we are nemeses. It’s funny because he doesn’t know I exist and I don’t want to do anything about it. I just disagree with his opinions and because he will never know I exist I can call him stupid because I am a nobody who doesn’t exist in his world.

How are we going to take away people’s drivers licenses Kurtis? How do you think people should do that? Dumbass. Nemesis. You don’t understand TV.

I live in Alberta and think you’re ignorant and disagree with your opinions.

[notebooknonbinary]

This is a bit shit but wanted to share what I think The Swingset might look like in the Upside Down.

[munamania]

ok had another ‘deep’ convo or whatever with this girl (until 4 in the morning amazing since i had to be up early today) and she really is a lovely person. and i still like her so much. but i feel like i had this sinking feeling of oh jesus christ i don’t know if i can ever say something to you about this

[rubysparx]

See my problem is like . I wanna have side blogs and post to them frequently, especially a lot of reblogs I wanna spread around the art I like. But I also love having something to say abt the art. I gotta tag it with something silly or niceys bc as an artist myself that’s like. The only reason I ever post my shit publicly. Is for the funny little comments :3 if you ever put a funny little comment or nice thing on smthn I made, I have that shit saved in a document, I’m serious.

But anyway. If I don’t have anything to say in the moment the post just sits in my drafts, and I really don’t wanna just have my organizational tag on that shit, that’s so lame. And you know maybe I shouldn’t be saying anything maybe these other artists don’t wanna hear shit from me ! Idk man that’s just my mentality. I feel like I’ve gotta leave a little comment ok??

And then I have the issue of the post being in drafts for months, when I finally post it if it’s a reblog it seems like it came outta nowhere. reblogger gotta be getting that notif like “I posted that four months ago, what?” or whatever.

[raeathnos]

.

[getoutofmytardis]

i do not care for dreams atm! they always make me sad! and yet they’re so dumb! for why! for what!