#wait no that's just expired yogurt

[tiffycat]

Just cause speedsters eat a lot doesn't mean they can just eat anything

Transcript under the cut

Tim: why don't you say all the reasons you think you're pregnant and I'll say all the reasons I think you're not

Bart: backaches

Tim: you're a guy

Bart: headaches

Tim: you're a guy

Bart: tender breasts

Tim: you're a- tender breast?

Bart: very. ow.

Tim: guys can't get pregnant

Bart: well how do you explain my morning sickness?

Tim: what did you have for dinner last night?

Bart: 65 chicken nugget skins and an industrial sized tin of expired ketchup that Kon found from an abandoned Wendy's

Tim: so that sounds like-

Bart: wait let me finish, also some expired yogurt, expired eggs-

Tim: you keep saying expired

Bart: -something Kon calls "Satan's freckles" which is just stale wheat toast made moist by the tears that come out of my eyes from when he tickles me too much

Tim: you're not pregnant. and you shouldn't cry into bread.

Bart: I took a pregnancy test and I passed

Tim: I doubt you've passed any test ever.

[heartfullofleeches]

*sigh* may i request a blurb where the reader and CC are doing the deed ( CC was is close too ) and baron just bursts into their room cause C.c ate all his strawberry yogurt??

[mdni. This is mostly crack, but there is still a crumb of smut so shoo. Small mention of w33d too.]

His hand fit so beautifully around your neck.

It's little discoveries like this that make indulging in those carnal desires all the better.

Seated in the nest of his heart shaped bed, C.C rolls his hips into you in sync with the breath that binds you together and the music buzzing around you. Cherry flavored smoke swells in your lungs and lingers on your tongue, the lip smeared over your lips and the wrap in his free hand ripe with that artificial flavor. C.C leans back against the frame, running the fingers latched you neck down to your stomach and spreading them right where it bulged with the press of his length.

He pulls you down with him, attacking your neck with love bites and hickeys for which your body was a canvas for. His momentum slips off the course of the music as his thrusts turn sloppy. In a moment of remembering the blunt in his hand and deeming the ash tray too far away, C.C shoves the lit bud into his tongue and uses your mouth to extinguish the following burn. The pain snuffed by the sweetness of your flesh was the tipping point for his desire. Ever the music junkie, C.C still clings onto the heat of the drowned out music as both of his hands perch onto your waist and draw you in. It's so difficult to focus when he's this close and the sounds of your love-making are more high inducing that the weed and music combined. He closes his eyes to really feel the flow, but the only thing he's able to hear by closing everything off is the sound of his neighbors breaking shit in their kitchen.

Wait - but his floor only has one apartment.

Shit.

"I'm going to fucking slaughter you!"

C.C has just enough time to throw you off him and under the covers as the door of his room crumbles like anyone's hope for privacy in this place.

"You dirty little whore... And Y/n. Hi, Y/n. Nice figure, but this isn't about you right now."

C.C covers his lap with a pillow. "Baron, what the fuck is your problem? When the sign is on red you know not to come in here!"

"The sign can suck my dicks, you ate my last go-gurt! I was saving that."

"It expired the day before and you don't even live here so stop putting your shit in my fridge!"

"I lift in there so I could have it while we watched a movie tomorrow. As in all three of us. Fuck, I'm the only one who gives a shit about others in this place."

You hold the blanket over your chest. "Um... should I go?"

C.C turns at lighting speed and grabs your arms - eyes full of desperation and plea. "Baby, you're the only thing stopping me from tearing his head off and shoving it up his ass if you leave I will be down one of literal hundreds of siblings."

[ladyteldra]

Any Way the River Flows

Alternatively: Help! I've Turned the Scum Villain into a Woman!

Shen Yuan survived the attempt on his life from the expired yogurt with divine intervention called his little sister. She was even kind enough not to make fun of his obsession with PIDW and introduce him to fandom while he recovered.

He does not survive the encounter with Truck-kun.

'System! System, what the fuck?!’ [User was assigned the most suitable host!]

In which Shen Yuan is trans and just as prone to overthinking as ever. There is truly no greater champion at 5D chess, especially against himself.

Preview:

Shen Yuan adjusts his mask as he steps off the bus, fitting it more firmly over his nose. It was a pleasant, if chilly, day and the warmth of his breath quickly steams up his glasses if he’s not careful. The sun was out after several days of cloud cover, leaving crisp blue skies he knew won’t last long, the weather report called for rain in the next few days. 

There was worse weather to have to go out in.

He was returning home from a visit to his doctor. Finally recovering from a severe bout of food poisoning that had laid him out months ago. Too many long nights followed by putting off shopping until the last minute, and then getting distracted by a notification in his email.

Anger wars with shame as he remembers that forsaken ending and the resulting situation. 

Deep breath in, out. 

His doctors have been stressing the need to avoid getting worked up over small things. His sister would never let him live it down if he had another health crisis over that damn novel. 

The only thing worse than how the novel ended was knowing his sister was the one to find him on the floor. Unconscious and apparently dying after ingesting expired yogurt of all things. If she hadn’t decided to check on him that day… if she had waited another week for their planned outing… He doesn’t like to think about what the scene would have been. 

Shen Yuan will always be thankful for her intervention, but would have thought that she was too busy calling emergency services and the family to make note of his computer screen. He apparently wasn’t that lucky.

After berating him for his poor habits - his lack of food in the apartment, missing family dinners, not calling - she brought up exactly what web page happened to be in full view. 

Proud Immortal Demon Way. Popular YY Stallion Novel. Incredibly long. Frequently updated. Absolute trash. The brand new final chapter that was only just released for the paid subscribers.

And the freshly posted comment by one Peerless Cucumber.

She was kind enough to lock his computer and turn off the monitor before the ambulance arrived.

Meimei had read the novel too. Well, at least part of it. 

She had bailed shortly after the resolution of the Abyss plot line. When it moved into less cohesive storyline and plot territory and more into excuse for papapa scene territory.

That’s not to say she dropped the novel and left it all behind, never to think of it again.

No. 

She was kind enough to introduce him to all the amazing sites where dissatisfied fans had taken on the task of exploring the story more thoroughly.

She introduced him to fanfiction. Condescendingly telling him he’d have nothing better to do during his time in the hospital bed. She was right. 

Shen Yuan had, of course, known of fanfiction before. You can’t exist on the internet without having at least heard of it and he’s been to multiple conventions. Fan content is a cornerstone for many of them. He’d spent a good amount of money on unofficial merch.

He just hadn’t seen the point of exploring it before the absolute bomb of a conclusion. These were offshoots of the original, how different could it be?

The answer is very. 

Despite familiar themes and characters, it was like a whole new world.

Every complaint he had as a reader, ones he felt were being shouted into the void, were obviously things that bothered others as well. Dropped plot points were explored in depth. Interesting wives that felt forgotten were given personality and purpose. Innumerable objects of ancient power were given history and context. 

So many delved into the possible political landscapes surrounding the world, how they evolved to where they were the protagonist tore through. Focused on the numerous background characters and villains and gave them motivations and lives that were less one dimensional. Gave those supporting them their own reasons in a world that didn’t just revolve around the protagonist.

Admittedly, his favorites were still ones focused on Lou Binghe. But they gave him more meaning than a revenge driven papapa machine. 

There’s nothing like distance to gain perspective. The entire experience has felt like a gold mine in comparison to the original trash.

The community has been extremely welcoming too.

An unfortunate number of people he interacted with recognize his handle, one he really should have considered changing between platforms in retrospect. It’s one thing when it’s mostly anonymous criticism of terrible stallion novels, quite another when people he’s starting to respect are using it. He should have left it behind in middle school where it belonged, but he’d gotten used to it and so had others. It was branding. And at least not as blatant as Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky’s own dick pun. 

The fan authors on the sites are always surprised at Peerless Cucumber’s lack of vitriol when commenting on works, pleasantly so in most cases. He’s been quick to point out that he’s not paying them for their content, so he can’t judge it as if he was and most of them far outstrip the original work in every way already. And those he actually hates? He can just not interact entirely.

He’s also joined a few forums and chat rooms dedicated to the more factual side. Ones focused on helping each other find the obscure pieces of information in the behemoth of original text or getting feedback on their interpretation of passages. Trying to find lost threads that tie together hundreds of chapters apart. 

He’s starting to make a different name for himself there. One not tied to biting critique and scathing reviews, but someone to rely on for quick and accurate information on the beasts from text. He’s being tagged more and more often in posts looking for quick answers on traits and names of obscure beasts that might appear in different locations in the novel. He’s even updated the wiki.

It’s fun. 

He feels like it’s been good for him. A new way to enjoy the world of Proud Immortal Demon Way without all the stress and rage that came with reading the original every time he realized another plot point was being ignored. 

He’s even regularly talking to several others on a regular basis. In a few months, he’ll even be willing to tentatively call them friends. 

Shen Yuan might have, might have, also begun compiling all his answers into a single document for easy access. He may have also started expanding on that information with links between other creatures and what they might be based on. Some blurbs of what could be first hand accounts in the style of journal entries. 

If you want it, write it yourself. Be the change you want to see in the world and all that. The reception of the few entries he’d shared had been positive. Enough to make him want to keep going

There might also be a slowly growing assortment of artistic interpretations of what those creatures would look like.

Meimei is the only one that’s seen the drawings and she’s given her seal of approval. He’s not drawn since his burnout from school. It was good to know he hadn’t lost all his hard won skill. His mother can never be allowed to know. She’d been giving him sad eyes to pick up drawing back up for years. If she knew that all it took was a shitty novel…

He very carefully doesn’t think about the also growing assortment of figure studies as he’s reread the beginning text.

Well, she’d probably just be happy it happened at all.

Shen Yuan stops before the next crosswalk, red. He rubs some circulation back into hands before pulling out his phone to check his emails. He can’t get too engrossed, everyone else is on the other side of the street for once, so he can’t use people moving around him as a prompt. But he can at least check to see if he’s been tagged in anything recently. It’s good to start formulating a response ahead of time if he can, or at least know how much is waiting for him.

If he’s lucky, there might even be some updates to look forward to when he gets home. He follows more than a few that use his contributions.

His email hasn’t even finished loading when the screech of tires causes him to look up in alarm. 

It’s a truck.

Swerving towards him. 

‘I’m not even on the crosswalk, yet.” 

Read more here.

[caliboron]

I’ve gotta sleep but I finally found motivation to write. Here’s some of the fic I’m working on rn, I’ll keep writing when I wake up

It was a slow day at the office for the four Smiling Friends, but none of them seemed to mind. A comfortable silence had filled the room, aside from the droning hum of the refrigerator. Allan had the door propped open while he bent over and examined it’s contents.

“Alright. Who keeps eating my yogurt? It’s not funny anymore.” Allan let the fridge door slowly close on its own as he gave his coworkers a suspicious glare.

Pim and Glep sat next to each other at the table. They had a Mr.Frog coloring book spread open so they each had a page to color. Crayons were scattered across the table. “Meh.” Glep groaned. He sounded uninterested.

“It’s not me. I wouldn’t do something like that without permission.” Pim stuck out his tongue as he focused on the half-colored page of The Bug before him.

“That’s exactly what a guilty person would say.” Allan squinted at Pim, then his attention turned to Charlie. “What about you?”

Charlie was glued to his phone at the moment. “Huh? What about me?”

“Have you been eating my yogurt?”

“Oh, those were yours?”

“I knew it! Of course they were mine! They had my name on them.”

“They did? I guess I just never noticed.”

“You’re a terrible liar, Charlie.”

“Whatever man, just… Oh, holy shit.”

“What?”

“I think I’ve finally tracked down Jombo. I actually did it.”

“What’s a Jombo?” Allan raised a brow in confusion.

“Oh, it’s um. This guy Charlie met at The Boss’s wedding.” Pim mentioned as he accidentally colored out of the lines. “Aw, shucks.” He mumbled.

“Yeah, I thought he was cool, like fifth smiling friend material cool, but then he ripped me off and ghosted me.”

“How did he rip you off?” Allan crossed his arms as he spoke.

“He sold him a fake knife. Like one of those plastic, retractable gag knives.” Pim propped his head up with his hand, looking over his coloring page and admiring his work.

“And how much did you pay for it?” Allan watched as Charlie worked up the nerve to answer him.

“…Six hundred dollars.” Charlie shamefully admitted.

“Holy crap, why? How did you even… Did you not realize it was made of plastic when you bought it?”

“Look, man, I was drunk off my ass, okay? You don’t have to rub it in all smug-like.”

“Oh, but I love doing that.”

“Yeah, I know you do.”

“Well I knew that you know I do.”

“Whatever! The point is, it doesn’t matter because I’m gonna get my money back. Every last cent.”

“I thought you said he deleted everything and moved to New Jersey?” Pim said as he watched Glep finish his coloring page, patiently waiting to turn the page until he was done.

“He did, but I found him. Every day since we saved the boss from that demon chick, I’ve been googling Jombo and lurking on forums and shit, and I just found someone talking about a pawn shop called ‘Jumbo Jombo’s’ that’s in Red Bank, New Jersey. It’s gotta be him.”

“So you’re gonna go visit him?”

“And demand my money back, yep.”

“What if he says no?”

“Well, I, uh… He probably won’t.”

“How are you going to get there?”

“I mean, I figured you could drive me there in the company car.”

“Ah, gee, I would if I could, Charlie, but I can’t. My license expired last week and I haven’t gotten around to renewing it yet.”

“Damn, that sucks. I can’t drive either, my license is suspended.”

“You don’t have a license.” Allan flatly stated.

“Um, yes, I do. Why is that so hard to believe?”

“Because it’s not true. I told you earlier; you’re a terrible liar.”

“Dude, I’m not lying.”

“Okay, then show me your license.”

Charlie stuck his hands in the pockets of his sweat pants and pulled them out to reveal they were empty. “It must be in my other pants.”

“Mhm. I’m sure it must be.”

“Get off my case, man.”

“…Glep, can you drive?” Charlie rolled a crayon in Glep’s direction to get his attention.

“Zweeezasaysbhav.” Glep brushed Charlie off.

“Glep‘a not allowed to drive no more. Not after the incident.” Allan explained.

“I’m not gonna waste my time wondering what that means.” Charlie sighed, heavily. “Allan?”

“Yeeees?”

“Could you drive me to New Jersey?”

“I suppose I could drive you with my real license that actually exists. But, what’s in it for me?”

“I’ll give you a hundred bucks once I get my money back.”

“Make it two hundred and I’ll consider it.”

“Okay, sure, fine.”

“Are you sure The Boss will let us take the company car for this little endeavor?”

“I think he’s at a nude beach or something. That’s what he said, anyway. He won’t care.”

“Me and Glep can come too, right?” Pim asked, excitedly.

“Nah, somebody’s gotta stay behind in case we get a call to make someone smile. You can handle that on your own, right?”

“Um… I guess so. It shouldn’t be too hard! Right, Glep?”

Glep muttered some gibberish under his breath. He didn’t plan on helping Pim at all.

“Alright, let’s go.” Charlie said as he and Allan headed out the doorway.

Pim ran after them and waved goodbye. “Bye Charlie! Bye Allan! I love you! Byyyye!”

[moon-alight]

Hiii could I request for a BfJo! x reader where both of them are in a live and just be chaotic?

Of course. <3

Masterlist

Saturday Live - &Team Jo

Synopsis: Jo is going life and casually dragged you, his 'best friend' with him. Your relationship needed to be a secret but lets be honest, everyone could tell the cute chemestry between you two.

Warnings: fluff, chaotic and comfortable Jo

Word Count: 580

It was a secret. You weren't allowed to announce your relationship out loud but funnily enough, everyone lowkey knew about it. Of course LUNÉ could see how comfortable their shy boy was with you.

Jo had dragged you down to the couch in the dorms so you could go live together because everyone knew of your great 'friendship'. It had only just begun when people began to ship you two as they always do.

"So, I found this yogurt inside the fridge and it was unlabelled so I thought lets do a mugbang!" Jo said while holding up the yogurt.

"Ew! Yeah, I'm not eating that!"

"Why not? It's perfectly fine, the expiration date isn't until the 3rd of September."

"Oh, Jo! That is tomorrow!"

"Yeah, so?" He asked while raising his brow. "Tomorrow isn't today, is it?" You looked at him with a certain look in your eyes that made him feel small even though he is the biggest guy in the room.

"For your sake and mine, I'm throwing these away." You took the yogurt and stood up to walk towards the trash can.

"For your information, you have a bit of chapstick on the side of your mouth." Jo said suddenly. You frowned and began to wipe the side of your mouth.

"Is it gone?"

"Nope."

You tried again and even joined him back on the couch, almost forgetting the live stream. Jo chuckled and shook his head as you tried to wipe away the smeared chapstick.

"Here, let me help--" But you took his wrist in your hand before he could reach up and you tried once more to wipe away your chapstick. "You just made it worse!" Jo said loudly and began to laugh.

"Oh for Christ's sake!" You took your phone and opened the camera app. You saw the smeared chapstick and gasped. "Damnit, memes will be made now. I look like a clown."

"A very pretty clown--" You smacked Jo's side to which he laughed harder. "Wait, wait." He picked up the chapstick from the small coffee table and opened the cap.

"Jo? What are you up to?" You asked and watched as he smeared the chapstick over his own lips and then smeared it out so he too had chapstick all over his face. You laughed. "Now there will be memes of both of us."

"You fool!" You said and looked at the camera. "There goes your idol image."

"I don't need an idol image." Jo said. "I just didn't want people to make fun of you alone."

"Now they'll make fun of both of us."

He shrugged. "Rather both of us than only you." He said to which your heart melted. You stared at him for a while as he did to you. The room was silent and the chat broke out in cute lovely emojis.

"Just so you know, you have a bit of chapstick on your nose." You said to which Jo frowned and tried to look down at his own nose without success. You chuckled and leaned forward to wipe it off but when you got close enough, he leaned in first and made your nose bump with his. "Jo1"

"Just so you know," Jo said, mocking you. "You have a bit of chapstick on your nose." He lifted his hand and pointed at your nose. "Right there." You gave him a playful glare.

"You are impossible."

"I cannot take you seriously when you look like Rudolf, sorry."

[eldritchaccident]

@kadavernagh replied to your post “[pm] There was no death on that bone. What...”:

[pm] Your notes explain nothing. Your secondary commentary here also explains nothing. That is not what I'm saying. I need to know how to be rid of you. I checked the expiration dates on my yogurt, but a bad one must have slipped through the cracks. For a hallucination, you linger.

​[pm] Well, I mean it's an anomaly, I don't think explaining it was ever supposed to be easy. I'm just documenting what happened. Think of it as [.....] a transference of energy. Guess it wasn't as interesting as I-- But you like bones-- why wouldnt you-- you wanted my skeleton--

Wait hallucination? Yogurt?--Do you think I'm like, [......] a ghost?

[ladykissingfish]

What would be funny as a sequel to the tomato smoothie thing would be the akatsuki trying to set up a nice peaceful dinner for konan and Nagato but they just make it chaotic and catastrophic because they just can't behave

*Nagato and Konan walk into the dining room and pause in surprise; the table is set for two and there’s a fancy tablecloth and candles*

Konan: What is this?

Hidan: *pulling out her chair for her* We were thinking, you cook for us every fuckin’ night. But we don’t do shit for you. So me, red-eyes, mask-boy and blondie made dinner for you and bony-arms!

Nagato: While I don’t appreciate that name, I do appreciate this gesture. *sits across from Konan*

Konan: Oh, this is so lovely. And you made chicken Alfredo, my favorite!

Konan: *swirls fettuccine noodles on her fork and takes a bite; face turns red and she starts coughing*

Nagato: *jumps up and frantically claps her on the back* What’s in this?!

Deidara: Chili powder, cayenne pepper, paprika, Cajun seasoning …

Nagato: In an Alfredo sauce??

Hidan: Blonde-bitch wanted it to be spicy. Even though we ALL told him it was a fuckin’  stupid idea …

Deidara: Fuck you, you demonic asshole. Just because YOU can’t make anything but bland garbage doesn’t mean that —

Konan, after guzzling water: I’m sure you meant well. Er, there’s something about the sauce I can’t quite figure out. 

Hidan: Ohhh, that. Well ideally you’re supposed to use heavy cream and shit, right? But we were out of that so -

Itachi: I improvised and used a mix of plain yogurt and milk instead. The milk was a teeny bit expired but only by five or so days.

Konan: I —

Tobi: Tobi made garlic bread, Konan and Leader!

Tobi: *brings out a loaf of white bread with a big clump of garlic cloves stuck in the middle*

Nagato: It’s … it’s lovely …

Deidara: Save room for dessert, hm! *brings out a 3-layer chocolate cake and sets it in middle of table* We worked extra hard on this!

Konan, surprised: Goodness, that looks absolutely amazing! It looks like it was made in a professional bakery! I can’t wait to —

Deidara: *raises two fingers* KATSU!!

*the cake explodes, covering everyone in a shower of chocolate*

Hidan: You stupid dick! We agreed no fucking explosives!!

Deidara: That cake wasn’t artistic without them!! Especially since Uchiha’s blind ass couldn’t read the recipe and put in 20 cups of sugar instead of 2! 

Tobi: But the sugar made it tasty, Senpai! *switches to Obito voice* And I’ve already warned you not to talk about Itachi like that …

Hidan: What the hell are you gonna do, weirdo? Shove a dango stick in his eye?

*the four of them start yelling and throwing punches at each other*

Nagato:

Konan:

Konan: … pizza?

Nagato: Mm.

[squill79]

Chewing on it

Wrote this as a prompt for a writing class and really liked how it came out. Probably one of my favorite things I've written tbh.

Look, I’m sorry. I didn’t want things to go this way either. If it were up to me, we’d both make it out of this alive. But I’m a human. And You’re a sandwich. It’s just the natural order. The cosmic joke of the universe. I create you, I consume you, and I excrete you. It’s not my fault. Besides, you're just too good. Chewy, juicy ham, fresh lettuce and tomato, creamy mayo, one of my finest works if I’m being honest. I can’t help but feel bad though. I mean, you didn’t ask for this. To be born only to be sacrificed by your own God just for his own satisfaction. I could’ve eaten anything. I have soup, yogurt, even a little bit of last night's spaghetti. And yet I made you anyways. Do I gain some sort of malicious pleasure from creating something just to destroy it? A psychotic enjoyment brought upon by the darkest corners of my imagination? Or maybe I’m overthinking. I was just in the mood for a sandwich. There’s no psychological motivation behind it. I was hungry. That is all. And besides, I am almost finished. Soon enough my hunger will be quenched and I can cease putting an absurd amount of thought into what is merely a collection of food groups. And yet... I still have a bad feeling from this. A feeling that something is wrong, which is preposterous. Eating a sandwich is one of the most mundane activities one can partake in. There are so many rancid people in this world. Abusers, bigots, criminals. And yet here I am, self-deprecating over a sandwich. What a joke. Why do I feel so bad about something so simple? What possible reason is there for me feeling this way? How could I feel so... wait a minute... I need to check the fridge. Yup, just as I suspected. The mayo’s expired.  

[piecesofmicorazon]

today

a few things happened today.

this morning i woke up at 11am, even though i've been trying to get to a place where i wake up at 9am everyday... that's still a goal for me.

then i took some meetings, did my skincare, and ate some greek yogurt with honey and expired granola.

then i did some stretching. i talked to bj a little bit and decided that i wanted some new candles. i asked her if she wanted to come.

today i hung out with bj. we went to buy candles, go to sephora, and just hang out. it was so fun. everything is so fun with her. we spent time smelling candles and messing with each other. something i notice is that people are always smiling at us, like they're happy to see us together. everything is so fun with bj, even walking around stores and touching blankets.

then we went to sephora so i could buy some new stuff for my acne. that's another thing.. i started tretinoin because i had so many clogged pores. did i think it would becomes like this? hell no. everyday i wake up and i wish i hadn't started it. but this tret journey is teaching me patience, it's teaching me good habits like skincare 2x a day, how to wait for things, and seeing small progress day by day. 4-6 months, man! that is a really long time. but i am trusting the process, and for once, sticking with it.

today i saw this reddit thread that made me cry. i felt extraordinarily seen. https://www.reddit.com/r/tretinoin/comments/1874wm5/comment/kbcxe8c/?context=3

this skincare journey reminds me of the one in middle school. i had forehead acne like no other, and i never thought it would end. i tried every mask, diaper cream, face washes galore. and one day it just all went away. i can't wait for that day to come.

while we were in sephora and i was trying to find concealers, bj brought some perfume samples over to me. she was going to buy me one in the summer and i remember telling her not to because i already had so many. but smelling it today, it smelled amazing. bj always knows what smells i would like, she knows everything about me.

everything is better with bj.

anyways, i got 2 foundation samples and i swear i was going to buy the concealer, but i stole it. sigh.. sometimes it's really hard to break habits. could i not afford $15? was it really worth? what would bj think of me..

i really don't steal anymore. even though i really want to sometimes. but just like any journey, one day it'll come. where the thought doesn't even cross my mind. i can't wait for that day to come.

another thing that happened today is that i got a therapist! fingers crossed for this one.. seriously. she's asian, has expertise in lgbtq, educated, and it all sounds good on paper! she didn't even have openings but she does after one week of me inquiring? if that's not jesus... who is it? thank you jesus.

i know people say therapy is life changing. and i really hope it can be for me to. i realize i have so many things i have not processed. my heart breaks even thinking about it, but only in great sorrow, do we learn what joy means.

i can't wait to learn what joy means again.

[creatrixblog]

Little Boxes A fallow wind breaks over the US Bank Building and the huddled masses ‘neath share blanket fires and cardboard, Post No Bills. Sweep the camps, a chain link fence and a black and white solution Rain comes and sops up the houses. Little boxes, little boxes, The Wall Street Bull is Raging, and the common man waits, without patience to take pictures with its backside. The sun beats down on the colonnade and it’s delightful light never touches the trade floor. The bean counters in bank shoes tighten up their Windsor knots and puff their magic odors: a deadly obscura, the art of concealment, strong and steady. No sense in kicking a nickel down, they’ll die in golden graves. Beards line up in a bread line, Passing expired yogurts, we held a grocery of wilted vegetables and the city just keeps sweeping, fencing, barring, holding firmly, under the necklace of the morning stars as the sun breaks dawn. Garbage heaps held an awful court dripping down the freeway sides. As the Maserati races down the lane, it kicks up the waste water, on window wipers and, the houseless at the gas station offers a good cleaning Such is the meandering of the mighty imperial city, the empire core, where the suits make decisions in long glass houses, only a place of stones thrown, I remember The odor of spray cans, black plume, and redolence made, under the awning of night, the shadows cast under city lamps, and crowds fuming in the particle masks. Oblation, Hyperion, can you hear the riot down here? Feet shuffled in the bean stalk of windows, the phones ringing, the crunch of feet on gravel, churning into the city tunnels, cardboard accoutrements, a shamble of protest, breaks on the helicopter blades that beat, beat, beat, and the women scream I feel the push of the mob, the air of another man’s breath, down the nape of neck, the crunch, the sound of gun fire breaking, Bleating, bouncing off the criminal walls of our containment. The revolving lights that win the day, and erect another fence, another dead sweep. No man without a house can live strong. #poetry #poetrycommunity #poem #poems #poet #writing #poetsofinstagram (at Ojai, California) https://www.instagram.com/p/Cn52svlLMOb/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[anothergirlrecovering]

Omg also, I totally forgot that when I was talking to Peggy yesterday I was telling her about how I didn’t finish my lunch because I had one bell pepper left and it tasted weird so I think it was just kind of old and she was like wait are you eating the tiny little peppers? And I was like no? I buy the normal full size peppers and cut it in half like you told me to and she was like OK thank God for a second I was like shit, how did I miss that? And I started cracking up and then when I got up to leave she had a freaking tiny solo little mini pepper in a Ziploc bag on her desk and I was like Peggy, speaking of only eating a baby pepper, what are you doing? haha she said it was left over from the other day and I was like do you not refrigerate your peppers? And she was like no, they don’t need to be refrigerated. I was like yes they do? And she just laughed and I was like you live such a wild life and she was like well, and I haven’t died yet lol and I was like well thanks to you, expired yogurt Hasn’t killed me yet either lol

[ohpsshaw]

Next up in my campaign to make Fiend into the gothiest, most palette-limited Barbie doll: ACTIVEWEAR! Very hip right now, and working up a sweat is entirely optional.

[they-callme-ami]

Fun discussion my mom and I had a few weeks ago:

My mom: hey we never formally gave you the test, but you definitely have autism somewhere on the scale. I've known since you were like 7 and I can see it clearer now after years of being around children in teaching.

Me: how on earth did you come to that conclusion?

These are things I have said and/or done that I believe led to this:

"Can I take my blanket to (insert place)? Yes I am a 17 year old, who cares?"

"Mom, I cannot eat coleslaw. Why? That time when I was 6, you made me eat it and it tasted like expired honey mustard. Of course I still remember. Also, you never gave me my slice of chocolate cake for that progress report in 3rd grade."

*proceeds to touch things with both hands or I will be jealous/uncomfortable of one hand touching it but not the other*

"Wait, you guys don't have scratchy sides to your blankets that you like to touch?"

*proceeds to make random little songs and noises while doing the dishes*

"I'm not going to eat this yogurt. It's not the right kind. No, the texture is weird."

*realizes I stim by touching fuzzy things*

~jazz hands when something is sticky or I need to wash my hands~

*tells everyone a random fact, irregardless to the timing* (ex: "Mom, I just found out Eartha Kitt was only 1/4 black. Well yeah, I know you just got home, but I had to tell someone.")

*literally had to take a sick day after being overstimulated at the DMV the previous day*

"It's Friday night, which means it is pizza night. Why are we having burgers? Every friday we have pizza, mom."

*Touching everything at whatever clothing store I am in* "Can't wear these shirts. Can't wear these pants. Can't wear th--"

"Hey, do you remember--" *proceeds to talk about the 2000s for like 3 hours at a sleepover.

"Hey, do you remember--" *proceeds to discuss why 'Bratz: Girls REALLY Rock' was actually better than Camp Rock.

"Wait, you guys don't just....fast forward through the cringy, conflict, everybody is upset with the Main character part of the movie/show? YOU WATCH IT?!"

*got REALLY excited when watching Yo Gabba Gabba and Blue's Clue's*

*other people explaining they have autism to me* "Huh. Okay, but I do those things and I'm not autistic. Why are you typing so fast?"

"I dunno, I just seem to really ~get~ characters like Twilight Sparkle, Pinkie Pie Peridot, Kiki Pizza, Sokka, Penelope Garcia, Craig Williams, Grace Monroe, Min-Gi Park, Kez the bell, Jenny Wakeman, Zane and Lloyd, Rapunzel, Silver the Hedgehog and Blaze the Cat---" *proceeds to list the most neurodivergent, but also vastly different in personality characters you will ever see.*

(UPDATE) And my absolute favorite, just now:

Using "Scritchy-scratchy" to describe how my blanket feels to my brother.

[ladyvesuvia]

Inside of Love

PAIRING: James Potter x Fem!Reader

SUMMARY: Working at a diner that’s open all hours of the day on the night before Valentine’s Day, you notice that one customer has been staying there without ordering anything for the past hour. Starting a conversation with him might give you a little bit of insight on what you want to know. [Inside of Love by Nada Surf]

WORDS: 5.7k

WARNING(S): Valentine’s Day, mentions of 1981 commercials and celebrities, couples, mentions of Grease 1978, awkward moments, awkward lines, poor writing i’m on a slump mbad + not proofread

REFERENCE(S): Hemeling Lager 1981 Commercial, Super Trouper by ABBA

A/N: I’m honestly not so proud of this because it’s got more dialogue than anything else and it’s 06:00am and it’s been a while since i’ve finished writing something so excuse the mediocre narrations idfjeiw help i don’t even know hahashs

NAVIGATION || MAIN MASTERLIST || HP MASTERLIST

Watching terrible tv, it kills all thought

Getting spacier than an astronaut

The telly screwed to the upper corner of the room kept you awake on the 13th of February, 1981, probably the worst day to ever exist second to the 14th of February itself. Much to your dismay, in just three hours, it will officially be Valentine’s Day (or Day of Love, as your friends call it).

You lazily watched a man in the TV play the piano while singing with a bunch of his friends as they held their beer up high.

“Do some lagers taste soft around the edges?” said the narrator as the rest sang ‘She’ll Be Coming Round the Mountain when She Comes’ together.

The man looked at his own beer, confused at how soft and flexible his glass is. You snorted.

“There’s a harder edge to the taste of Hemeling,” said the narrator of the commercial with vigor, “because Hemeling brew more sugar out so there’s more alcohol in. Result? A taste with a keener, harder—”

“Quit gadding about with the telly and get that poor couple their order!” your boss (and a close friend of your mother’s), Mrs. Campbell yelled from the open window slot of the kitchen. You preferred to call her by her first name Barbara but she had told you to call her Mrs. Campbell in the workplace.

She turned off the TV with the remote, furious.

You groaned. “Poor? How do you know they’re poor?”

“Heavens, child — look at them! They’re wet from the rain!”

“The girl has Jordache jeans and the guy looks like Tom Selleck, just how poor could they possibly be?” Groaning, you took the tray from the slot, obeying nonetheless. “Not my fault they’ve chugged down too much Hemeling and forgot an umbrella!”

“They can hear you!” hissed Mrs. Campbell.

“Oh, let them!”

Making out with people I hardly know or like

Carrying the tray of chicken wings and fries to the young couple at the second last booth of the diner in itself was a disappointingly tedious task. They didn’t seem to have heard your comment about them.

Stupid, you thought as you put the tray down on their table before laying their food in front of them. Before you left them alone to themselves, you caught sight of one guy sitting all by himself at the last booth wearing a maroon jacket, a bouquet of white lilies resting on the table instead of food. You had asked to take his order for about an hour ago and he had curtly told you he was waiting for someone. You studied him before leaving. Too edgy for my liking but . . . kinda cute?

You shook this thought aside. As soon as you got back to the counter, you hurried over to your boss, looking through the slot with a mischievous grin on your face.

“What now, child?” she said while flipping a burger patty.

You drummed your fingers on the counter. “Can I go home now?”

“Why, so you could kiss strangers?”

“Yes, so I could kiss strangers and or watch Fridays and see who the guest star is while eating expired yogurt,” you said plainly. “So can I?”

I can't believe what I do, late at night

“Oh, no, no, child, you stay here until Dalila shows up,” Mrs. Campbell declared.

“But Dalila is always late for an hour!”

Mrs. Campbell turned off the stove with a raised brow your way. “Oh, so you’re gonna leave me alone here with these shady people?”

“I thought you regarded them as a sweet wee couple?”

“Yes, but isn’t it dangerous to leave me, sweet and fragile Mrs. Campbell, all alone in this diner?”

You made a show of looking her up and down. “Eh, I don’t know, I’d say you look more butch to me — Ow! Fine, I’ll stay.”

“That’s what I thought. Now do us both a favor and get that lad’s order.” She gestured to the guy at the last booth who was simply unmoving, his eyes glued to the rain-stained window panes

“But I already did! He said he’s ‘waiting for someone,’ whatever that means.”

“He probably just got stood up by Lily.”

“Yeah, I wouldn’t blame her. Why would he even ask her to go to this shabby — just kidding — wait, you know him?”

“Oh, I’ve known James ever since he began dating Lily! They used to be regulars here, you know. They stopped visiting since . . . I’m not really sure. I reckon they broke up a while ago.” Mrs. Campbell peeked through the slot, trying to get a better look at the guy sitting at the last booth.

“How come I’ve never seen them, then?”

“Ah, well, they don’t really come on a school year. See, they go to this boarding school and whatnot,” said Mrs. Campbell. “And they stopped coming a few months ago, this is the first time I’ve seen him in a long time. That right there was their booth.”

Back in high school, you used to take your boyfriend here every afternoon after classes and what Mrs. Campbell labelled this James and Lily’s booth was yours, too. “So you do know him. You take his order, then.”

She ignored you. “Such a shame, they were really good together like you and that Gilbert boy who used to come over a lot.”

“Ew, that was a century ago, give it a rest.”

With a whine, you practically dragged yourself over to where he was seated, a laminated menu in hand.

He didn’t look up much less give a grunt to acknowledge your presence.

“I could take your order,” you said with a monotone voice, “or not.”

Finally, he looked up, the dark circles under his eyes deeper than how you had assumed it to be.

“I know the sign says we’re open for twenty-four hours but I personally haven’t got all day.” You pulled out your notepad from your apron pocket, clicking your pen open. “So you want chicken wings or a burger? What?”

He scoffed. “I’m waiting for someone.”

“Is that someone death?” Your eyes went to the bouquet of flowers.

It started raining outside again, the silent song of its telltale tune painting mist and tears across all the windows. You leaned on the table with your hands supporting you.

“Listen, James,” you started. This time, he looked at you in the eye, disbelief clouding the very eyes that stared at you. “Just order some—”

“How d’you know my name?”

“Mrs. Campbell.”

“Oh, you mean Miss Glasgow?” he said absentmindedly as he craned his head to get a better view of the kitchen behind the counter. You turned around to find Mrs. Campbell peeking through the open slot of the kitchen window with a giddy smile on her face as she waved. You cringed.

James did a tiny salute with a wink before facing you again. “On second thought, I’d like the burger with extra cheese and a vanilla milkshake.”

I wanna know what it's like

On the inside of love

The blender’s sound was deafening and it smelled more like machine than it did vanilla; its tune made you want to just throw it to the ground and watch it shatter into a million pieces.

You turned on the TV again with the forlorn remote that was tossed to the side in an attempt to take your mind off of the provoking chords of the blender.

A rerun of Mr and Mrs played, a gameshow for couples with a grand cash prize. You didn’t really get the show’s mechanics but you watched it anyway to keep yourself busy. You cocked your head to the side, wondering what it would be like to be in love again just like the couple on the telly.

I'm standing at the gates

I see the beauty above

For the past long hours of your shift, you served happy and sad couples alike. There were miserable singles, too, and as much as you felt bad that they were having a hard time, seeing them come and go made you feel just a little bit better as their presence reminded you that you weren’t alone on the night before the most dreadful day of the year.

Mrs. Campbell bringing up your boyfriend from high school had you questioning yourself: Would it be that bad to ring him on his telephone? Is he okay? Would we still be dating now if I had just given him a second chance?

From afar, one would just assume you were invested on watching the show when you were anything but.

If your mind was a place, you were incredibly far away from where you stood: You’re in your room and it’s 1976; you’re opening the window for who you thought you’d spend the rest of your life with, your heart fluttering with that sensation you’re longing for today — the warmth and solace you can only find in another’s arms.

You forced yourself to snap out of it, your eyes lingering over to the boy sitting at the last booth, his own gaze trapped to the rain-stained windows, waiting.

He’s been sitting there for about four hours going on five now. You wanted to love someone that hard again enough to wait for them. You wanted . . . to love, just love someone no matter how pathetic and desperate that sounded to who you are right now.

Sighing, you turned off the TV before turning off the blender as well, shaking it on your own. Mrs. Campbell laid a tray with one cheeseburger at the center on the window.

You poured the contents of the blender onto a tall milkshake soda glass, and next came the whipped cream and sprinkles. With one curt glance his way, you poked the straw through the creamy drink.

A moment later, you handed him his order, setting the tall glass as carefully as you could, not wanting to have it break. Cleaning it up would be a whole new story; just imagine the foamy and sticky contents of the milkshake mixing with the threatening shards of the glass . . . Oh, look, it resembles my heart!

Cringing at this thought, you slapped the tray against your head out of instinct, wanting it to go away.

The guy looked up from his seat, clearly amused (you could tell from the already forming grin on his stupidly pretty face). “Did you just hit yourself with the tray?”

You looked at him, dumbfounded. “Er — depends on how much you saw.”

“Pretty sure I saw everything,” he jeered, his voice full of contained laughter.

“Everything except for the battle inside my head,” you said dramatically. Without thinking, you sat down on the cushioned seat across from him, taking off your striped visor and putting it beside his milkshake. “Tell me, James, what’s it like to be in love?” His brows shot up at this, and so you added hurriedly, “No, no, no, I’m not making a move on you, I’m just curious is all. I’m not interested, just wanted to know.”

“How could you not be interested in me?” he said, raking his fingers through his hair. With a grin, he slid his glass of milkshake towards him. Weirdly enough, seeing him warm up to you was relieving. “That’s the stuff,” he moaned after taking a sip.

Only when we get to see the aerial view

“You say you’re waiting for someone but you still couldn’t help but hump everything that breathes.”

James snorted. “I didn’t hump you.”

“Metaphorically speaking, yes you just did,” you chimed.

Hours ago from now when the sun was still out, you’d have thought he was worthy of being laughed at but right now with the ticking clock determining midnight’s arrival, you just needed something to pass your time with and he seemed interesting enough. “Are you going to answer my question or not?”

“Well, [Y/N], love is like a milkshake,” he said with a grin just right before he took a sip of his own drink. You let out a scoff.

“How do you know—”

“I have my ways with my sneaky tactics,” said James. “Kidding, you’ve got your name tag and all.”

“Oh, so that’s what you were doing, I thought you were staring at my jugs.”

“Please, I’m a gentleman.”

You watch as he takes a loud sip from his milkshake, the contents slowly draining. “I beg to differ.”

“Ooh, Miss Naughty-cal’s begging,” James joked, his eyes brimming with what he may call ‘tears of joy.’ “Get it, yeah? ‘Cause your uniform’s got stripes and . . . nautical theme and you’re . . . naughty — seriously, people gotta start appreciating my humor.”

“You hardly have any,” you tell him. “So why milkshake of all things?”

“Milkshakes make my brain freeze. Couldn’t think well when it does so.”

“Isn’t that a bad thing?” you asked, leaning on the table.

“Doesn’t have to be. See, sometimes when you take a sip too quickly, you’d be all ‘oh, yeah, that’s the stuff’ and then suddenly you want that cold feeling out but it’s all worth it in the end.” James stirred. “Anyway, on a half-related note, I’m waiting for someone.”

“I’d say that’s highly pathetic of you but I once went to school in a white gown and a curtain for a veil so I’ll let it slide.”

“You did what?” James laughed, effortlessly making you laugh as well. How the hell does he do that? “I have millions of questions but I’ll save it just for another time.”

“Good, because I have another question for you.”

“Shoot it, [Y/N/N].”

Will the patterns show, we'll know what to do

“How do you this?” With a short chuckle, you picked up the bouquet of lily flowers.

James reached for your striped visor from the table and put it on himself, parading it as he studied his own reflection on the window. “Do what, exactly?”

“Spending the night waiting for someone who’ll never show up.”

“Hey, she’ll show up, alright?” he said, hope clear in his tone. But you knew he was losing that very faith every passing second that this Lily girl doesn’t show up. “She’s just . . . under the weather or just late or maybe she didn’t receive my letter.”

“You sent a — I’m not asking. But late? For almost four hours?”

“Okay, I know it looks bad so let’s say she really doesn’t show up.”

“I already did.”

Once again, he ignored what you had said. “I’ll stay here until she comes because I promised I would.”

“Sounds painfully idiotic.”

“The word you’re looking for is heroic.” James took another loud sip, paying your scowl no mind. “My turn to ask you something, my pal.”

“Not your pal.”

He ignored you again. “Why are you spending your Valentine’s Eve working?”

“Just waiting for my shift to end so I could go home.”

“Home to your boyfriend or girlfriend or something?” he said, teasing you.

“Nah, I don’t have any of those.”

“Oh, why not? You don’t seem that bad.”

You yawned. “What a flattering compliment.”

“So what are your plans?” he asked, also leaning in as he set his almost done milkshake, then grabbing his cheeseburger.

“I kinda promised myself I’d go home as soon as I can just so I could stay up late and watch show reruns on the telly until the sun shows up so I could wake up in the afternoon and not deal with smoochy couples.”

“Wow, that’s inspiring,” James said, laughing. Maybe it was your drowsiness kicking in but that smile was something you didn’t know you needed to see. “Who hurt you so bad that you don’t wanna go out and do dates?”

I know the last page so well, I can't read the first

“Oh, I do dates. I just bail a lot.”

“Why’s that?” James asked.

It’s a question you always found yourself asking whenever you ended things with someone be it on just the first date or the real thing. So far after your breakup with your long-time boyfriend and now ex two years ago, you’d been out with a couple of people.

They were all great, you knew that. You started off optimistic at first, waiting for that sort of magic to come back again, that spark.

But it never did.

And little by little, you just assumed that it would all end in heartbreak just like your first love. With a long sigh and a not so thorough consideration you told this person you barely knew about it, not excluding the part when you caught your boyfriend with your best friend, making out, both of which were very, very drunk.

So I just don't start, it's getting worse

“D’you think it was a bad idea to not give him a chance?”

“Of course not! You deserve better than that foul git. If I were you, I’d have held him upside down by the leg and—”

“Woah, woah, woah, pipe down, we dated for four years.”

“All the more reason to hate him then.”

It was kind of hard to believe that two hours had passed as the clock hung on the wall behind James said so.

“And that’s how I ended up being sent home after wearing the gown.”

You were both busy caught in collective fits of laughter when the two of you spotter a woman with red hair walk by from outside. James’s hand immediately went to the bouquet of flowers’ end, composing himself in the process as to not seem like a fool if it was who he expected it to be. He almost looked as if he were confused.

He was. Did he still want to do this? Hours ago during the daytime, he struggled to use the red telephone booth as he called the Evans’ home phone, but still sure he wanted to win his ex back.

“Hello?” he had started, hoping for Lily’s voice to answer back.

“Who’s this?” said a familiar voice, one not of Lily’s; was her mother’s. “Hello?”

James hung up and ran to the nearest obscure place to Disapparate, hurriedly writing a letter telling Lily to meet him at the Diner at 8 p.m., his heart in his throat as he watched the owl fly away to send it to her.

James snapped out of it.

As soon as the woman got in, you leapt from your seat and exclaimed, “Finally, Dalila! Barb — I mean Mrs. Campbell, I’m off!”

He watched as you dashed to the kitchen while undoing your apron until you disappeared from view. His eyes went to the woman who just entered, confused at how anticlimactic it would have been if it were who he was waiting for. He set the bouquet aside to stare at his empty glass of milkshake.

I wanna know what it's like

On the inside of love

A while later, he watched as you stepped out of the kitchen dressed out of your uniform and wearing your own clothes instead. You waved at him as a subtle goodbye while you searched the umbrella stand for your own transparent one until you did.

Your hands were already the door handle, ready to push it open to step out into the damp and empty street when you heard a glass whine. Alarmed, you turned to the source of the noise only to find James catch his almost toppling tall glass just in time.

“Wait!” he had called out, soon whispering words of charming apologies to the other people in the diner. He put the empty tall glass and plate to the side neatly before jogging over to where you stood, the same bouquet of lily flowers in hand. “You’re leaving?”

“Well, yeah. Only a few minutes before Valentine’s, gotta make the most of it, eh?”

“I’m coming with.” He reached out to the door handle.

“You’re what?” you gasped. “Aren’t you waiting for someone? Also, if you are, take that visor off.” You snatched it off his head, tossing it over to the counter.

“Eh,” he shrugged, grinning madly afterwards as he swung the door open. “It’s getting late, might as well mope, right?”

“That’s the spirit,” you exclaimed as you walked out first.

It was no longer raining but the puddles still sat where they were, unmoving as you walked by them. James followed suit, still cradling the flowers like a baby.

I'm standing at the gates

I see the beauty above

You walked together in the damp and cracked street in silence, your reflection’s presence in the puddles and the sound of your footsteps the only reminder that you were with a person you have only known for a few hours.

It’s kinda . . . awkward? It’s as if you two changed into two different people the moment you stepped out. Biting the inside of your cheek, you raised your wrist to check the time: fourteen minutes before the fourteenth of February.

All of a sudden, your first plan came into mind: Get out of the diner, stop by a club, make out with a stranger, go home, watch show reruns, stay awake until sunrise, and wake up when the day’s over.

“You know,” James started (you were glad he spoke first), “they said that the moment you’re with someone on Valentine’s, it’s a date.”

“Then let’s part ways in thirteen minutes.”

“You’re awfully desperate to get rid of me, aren’t you?” said James, feigning a look of heartbreak with his hand clutching his chest.

This time, you ignored him. “Where are you even going anyway? Because I’m taking the bus.”

“Oh, yeah, I’m taking the bus too.”

By the time you reached the bus stop, you ran into a young couple holding hands just across the street while talking and laughing. You stiffened next to James, and you knew he was cringing too without even looking at him.

Desperate to lighten the mood, you decide to speak. “Ew, so that’s what we looked like.”

“We?”

“Oh, no, I meant we as in me and the Gilbert guy I told you about not — not we we but us we but also not that . . . Okay, why is this so awkward?”

“I don’t know, but I think you might have fallen in love with me,” James said, smirking teasingly.

“Ew,” you said with a scowl, “I like you less, if anything.”

“I highly doubt it.”

“Okay, jokes aside, do you love this Lily girl?”

He turned to you, his eyes narrowed. He opened his mouth to speak, but his inability to say anything caught him off guard. He had told you in the diner that they’d been broken up for a while now and only then did he realize that he just wanted that feeling as well.

“I did.”

“Did as in past tense?”

“Did as in past tense, I guess,” he confirmed not only to you but also to himself. “I guess it does suck to be stood up but I think I now understand why I waited.”

“Please don’t launch into a monologue,” you muttered. He only grins in response before talking anyway.

I wanna know what it's like

On the inside of love

“You know how you said you wanted that feeling?”

“Vividly, on.”

“I think I did, too. I guess I missed doing things for someone and being a romantic. It’s just — I’ve got this plan, you know? It’s set out before me and it’s all prepared and I never had a Plan B.”

“Is it weird that we’re bonding over our mutual lack of romantic dedication and commitment?”

“No, my pal,” he started, paying no mind as you corrected him again that you are, in fact, not his pal. “I think we should start a dance troupe.”

“Straying off topic there, pal,” you said as you played with your umbrella subtly. You sat down on one of the bus stop’s benches, putting it down beside you.

“Hey, you said it!” James exclaimed, gesturing at you with finger guns.

“Said what?”

“Pal — you called me pal!”

“Yeah but not my pal,” you countered.

He chuckled. “Either way, I’ll take it.”

I can't find my way in

I try again and again

You were talking to each other when a bus halted in front of you. James offered his hand to help you stand up then letting you go in first, but not without saying, “What can I say? I’m a gentleman.”

When you got in, you spot a few more couples seated here and there, their heads resting on their significant other’s shoulders. Some were even talking and laughing at whatever their topic was about. You lead him to the middle row, not bothering to go to the second floor as to avoid seeing more couples going about their day.

You take your seat by the window (James had complaints but you shut him down), watching countless vehicles drive by. “Isn’t it pretty cool that a lot of people are still awake?”

“Lots of people in clubs right now.”

“That’s sad,” you commented.

“Says the one who was planning on doing the same and going home to watch show reruns.” James turned to you again, his head craned to the side. “What time is it?”

You looked at your watch. “11:56, four minutes left before midnight. Driver better hurry up.”

I'm on the outside of love

Always under or above

“Harsh,” said James, drumming his fingers on his lap as he scanned the entirety of what he could see. “You know, I used to take Lily to that very booth in that very diner.”

“Yeah, Mrs. Campbell told me.”

“You mean Miss Glasgow?”

“What is up with that nickname?” you said with a laugh, eager to hear about it.

“It’s ‘cause when we first came in, we sat by the stools and she went up to us and went all weepy about how much young couples reminded her of what it was like with her husband.”

“. . .So?”

“Oh, right. It’s because she met him in Glasgow and they had this writing to each other thing back and fourth years and years ago. Then last year the Super Trouper song played on the jukebox so I was all, ‘Hey, Barbara! Look, it fits you both!’ And she—”

“She lets you call her Barbara? That’s unfair.”

“What can I say? I’m pretty charming if I say so myself,” said James. “Anyway, I began saying ‘I’d like a burger, Miss Glasgow!’ and it just stuck.”

I can't find my way in

I try again and again

You sighed. You already knew about how lovey-dovey Mrs. Campbell was with her husband but now you wanted to know more.

“See? I want that!”

“You want me to call you Miss Glasgow?”

“What? No! I mean, their love story is so . . . good, you know?”

“Please don’t launch into a monologue,” James cut in, quoting you. The two of you smile.

“Okay, so, I’m pretty sure I told you this already but when I was with Gil, I thought that was it. I thought I’d be walking down the aisle to say ‘I do’ to him and . . . have the kind of love Mrs. Campbell has with her husband and more. So when I cut things off with Gil, I thought it would be just as easy as it was with him but it just wasn’t.

“I dated around, positive I’d meet someone and start this epic love story pronto like the ones you read in books about and just — I didn’t. I didn’t get that. Honestly, I even thought I’d be married by now. I know it’s early but we talked about it, alright? He was literally the perfect guy and I let him go.”

James clapped in front of you, making you and a couple of passengers jump. He whispered a low apology, murmuring it to everyone near before returning his attention to you. “Hey, you didn’t lose him, he lost you. It’s his loss, not yours.”

I'm on the outside of love

Always under or above

Must be a different view

To be a me with a you

“Oh wow, that’s actually pretty sweet.”

“I know, right? It’s kind of my specialty.”

You only smile at him for a solid two seconds before turning away and facing the window as you felt heat creep into your cheeks.

One car passed by.

Another one.

And another one.

After the fourth one passed by, a drop of rain took you back to reality. You faced him.

“Tell me, James,” you say in a way that almost felt as if it could push the rain away, “why are you here with me? I didn’t know it only took a couple of hours to get you to break a promise.”

“Good things have to end to make way for—”

“Better ones?” you guessed.

“Nope, best ones.”

“I have no clue as to what you’re trying to say but okay, shut up now.”

Silence again.

“You know, you also broke a promise to be with me right now.”

“Oh yeah? What’s that?”

“Your brilliant plan of avoiding Valentine’s.”

“Guess we both broke promises to be here right now. Is it even worth it?”

“Meh, it’s alright.”

I wanna know what it's like

On the inside of love

You always thought there was something curiously romantic about sitting shoulder up to shoulder in a moving vehicle especially in a train or a bus. Now that you were in that very moment, you weren’t particularly sure whether or not to regard it as a romantic moment when you’ve only known the guy you were with for a couple of hours.

Your eyes were about to close when you spotted couples kissing one by one; first it was the pair across from your spot and then more couples the next. You rolled your eyes as you leaned your head against the window. Maybe it was the late night but the window felt a lot more comfortable than you remembered it to be.

I'm standing at the gates

I see the beauty above

Yawning, you stretched your neck to find James stifling a laugh. “Sorry,” you whispered before rubbing your eyes. “I guess you’ve got a friend in me now.”

“Mhm, you’ve got a friend in you.”

“I have a what?” You felt your drowsiness leaving.

“Oh, I meant you’ve got a friend in — never mind, sorry.”

“You just got your friend card revoked,” you said, making a face.

“Whatever happened to staying awake till the sun rises?”

“Working at the diner longer than I thought I would happened,” you said, yawning afterwards. You look down at your watch, its face twisted away from you. Groaning, you lift up your wrist, seeing that it was already a few minutes after midnight. “Oh, Happy Valentine’s.”

“Happy Valentine’s, stranger,” greeted James, “I hate to break it to you, but you’re stuck with me.”

“Yeah? Well, not for long. We’ve passed that gas station. Means the route to my flat’s not so far from here.”

“Oh, you’ll be leaving?”

“Of course I am, stop making it so obvious that you’re obsessed with me.”

I wanna know what it's like

On the inside of love

The bus halted on its umpteenth stop since you got in and a couple walked by. They seemed to have come from upstairs, and they appeared to be tired, too. You watch as they get down, their hands still together.

“My favorite color’s green,” he said randomly.

“What?” you started.

“It’s Lily’s eye color.”

“I’m saying it again: What?”

James crossed his shoulders. “Didn’t they say if it’s Valentine’s and you’re with someone, that someone’s your date? Then this is it.”

“Bringing up an ex on a date? Foul move, pal.” You mimicked him, crossing your arms. “Well, my favorite color is blue because it’s Gilbert’s eye color.”

“How unoriginal,” said James. “Anyway, my full name is James Fleamont Potter.”

“Just when I thought it’s a tragedy being named James, then you let me know you have the word ‘Flea’ in your name? My, your life just gets sadder every time.”

“This is the worst date ever in history,” James said, laughing out loud.

“Nope, the worst date ever in history would be the one I had last year when my date brought me to his grandma’s funeral.”

“That alone sounds tragic!” He had to cover his mouth to keep himself from howling out loud. “What happened?”

“I guess you’ll never know because this is my stop,” you told him as the bus slowly came to a halt. It was still raining (it had lessened a bit, though), so you reached for your umbrella only to find that it wasn’t there. Must’ve left it somewhere, you thought.

“Oh, wait, take this,” James said, taking off his jacket and offering it to you. “I’d walk you but that would mean I like you.”

“And I’d say yes but that would mean I like you,” you teased back as you took the jacket and laid it over your head. “I’ll just make a run for it.”

“Good call.”

Of course I'll be alright

I just had a bad night

I had a bad night

“Thanks, my pal,” you tell him, turning back just when he called out to you and handed you the bouquet of flowers. James grinned but you stopped him before he could even point out that you’d just called him that. “Wow, so you’re just gonna give me flowers meant for somebody else?”

“Reduce, reuse, recycle because I am a nature guy,” said James. “Stop being picky and just take it.”

“Nah, you keep it. Consider it as my gift to you.”

“Should I be honored?”

You nodded. “Very. Oh, I have to go now.”

With one last wave, you ran over to the door, stepping out with the jacket over your head, unaware that James was watching you as far as the window would allow him as the bus went on.

He could’ve went out the next stop to Disapparate but he didn’t. Instead, his eyes were studying the flowers. This time, they had a different meaning, and so did he.

You’d think that was the last of it, but it wasn’t. Safe to say that the diner and the jacket would play an important role to that part of the story.

click here to be added to my POTTERVERSE taglist.

JAMES POTTER TAGLIST: @catching-the-train-to-hogwarts @badass-yn @mjoubertt-1 @gold-russh @dlmmdl @sexysirius @justadreamyhufflepuff @prongs103 @i-love-scott-mccall @suditi-says-chai-is-trash @bellatrixscurls @ameliasbitvh @princess-jules47 @pottahishotasf @cupids-crystals @everythingisdefinitelynotfine @siriusbarnesslut @ferretboysupremacy @spxncervibes

[spiderblog-mcu]

Robber: *breaks into Peters apartment* give me all of your valuables and no one gets hurt!

Peter: *no fucks to give*

Peter: oh yeah sure. Let’s see what I have. Hmm here’s a box of GED textbooks because despite being a genius I failed high school. This is a watch I bought from the dollar store that doesn’t work.

Robber: uh-

Peter: here’s a small soup pot I found in the dumpster because I couldn’t afford to buy one. Right next to it you will find the only fork that I own.

Robber: look I-

Peter: In my wallet I have a debit card with exactly $8.53 on it, and an expired coupon for frozen yogurt.

Robber: I’m just gonna leave.

Peter: Wait here’s the best part. This is a photo album of everyone that is important to me. Half of them are dead and the rest are no longer aware of my existence.

[ptergwen]

through the lens

w/c: 2.3k

warnings: swearing and mentions of blood (all fluff tho!)

summary: yours and peter’s date night doesn’t go as planned, thanks to his “little” accident and mj’s photography project

a/n: it’s been a minute but i’m back! for now lol i promise i’ll be way more active when exam season is over <3 this was based off the lovely pic above taken by the even lovelier zendaya and i hope you enjoy these… let’s call it random workings of my mind

-

“hang on, can you come closer?” mj instructs you, you promptly stepping towards her. “is this good?” “great,” she affirms and squints behind the camera. “smile really big on the count of three, okay? one, two, three!” doing as she says, you give mj your cheesiest grin with your eyes squeezed shut and all. she snickers while snapping the moment on her polaroid.

mj asked you to be her subject for a photography project. you’re happy to do it, although it’s super last minute. like, barging-into-your-room-and-begging-you-for-help last minute. she was supposed to turn this in days ago. lucky for mj, her teacher was feeling generous and gave her an extension.

you have to work fast because of mj’s deadline and your plans with peter. he’s coming over for a movie marathon and cuddles right about now. well, he’s actually running a tad bit late. that’s typical peter for you.

“just a couple more, and then you’re free,” mj informs you while shaking out the polaroid. “this is honestly pretty fun, you know.” you glance at the photo she’s holding with an eyebrow quirked in surprise. she captures you well. “what made you choose me?” “no one else was free on a saturday,” she snorts and tosses the picture in a pile with the rest.

your mouth falls agape. “i’m not free! peter’s gonna be here in…” you check the time on your phone, much to your dismay. “he’s a few minutes late, but still. i have things to do, too.” a smirk sets on mj’s face as she gets ready for the next photograph. “relax, y/n/n. i was kidding. i’m sure spider-dweeb will be here sooner than you know it.” sighing lightheartedly, you take a seat on your bed.

“don’t call him that,” you shake your head. mj throws her own head back to the ceiling. “ugh, but that was a good one,” she insists, you only humming. “it’s better than penis parker, at least.” “nah, i like the alliteration,” you laugh out and earn a giggle from mj. “you’re lucky parker doesn’t have super hearing, or does he?” winking, you hit a pose for mj. you’re looking at her over your shoulder with smolder eyes.

“ask him yourself, after you get this shot.”

the two of you continue messing around with her polaroid until the film is almost gone, and peter has yet to arrive. you’re starting to worry. you aren’t sure where he could be.

he doesn’t patrol on weekends unless it’s an emergency, and he would’ve told you if there was one already. he’s never this late without sending a text, either. it’s almost an hour past when date night should’ve started. on the other occasions peter has gone off the grid, they didn’t end well.

“i’m freaking out, em. do you think he’s in some kind of trouble?” you ask mj, pacing around your bedroom. she offers a sympathetic shrug. “maybe he just ate some bad yogurt. remember last time?” being the dummy he is, peter once scarfed down an entire tub of vanilla yogurt before he realized it was expired. no one heard from him for days. he didn’t show up to school or answer any calls.

may ended up inviting you over and explaining he’d gotten a stomach bug, which you then tended to him for the rest of. the story was so amusing, and so peter.

“may doesn’t buy him dairy anymore. why do you think he always raids your freezer?” you bring your fingers up to rub your temples. “the kid can empty ice cream cartons in one bite,” she agrees, silently cringing. her curiosity piques at the fact. “is that also a power?” “who cares?” you nearly shout, your fingers curling into fists. “what i wanna know is if peter is fucking okay.”

on cue, there’s a knock at your apartment door. you and mj exchange looks of urgency, both rushing out of your room to answer.

mj follows you through the hall and stands by your side while you fumble with the lock. when your door pulls open, ned has his hand raised to knock again. “ned? what are you doing here?” you don’t give him the chance to speak. “have you heard from peter? he was supposed to be here a while ago, but he never showed.” rather than answering in words, ned takes a step aside.

the sight you’re met with makes you gasp. peter peeks out from behind him, cuts and bruises littering his flushed face. he gives you a lopsided smile.

“you have your answer,” mj murmurs to you and eyes ned curiously. he lets out a nervous chuckle. “here he is.” you push past ned and practically jump into peter’s arms, your hug bone-crushing. “peter, oh my god! are you okay?” wincing, peter hugs you back by your waist. his chin rests carefully on your head.

“hey… i’m alright, baby. still pretty sore, though,” he sucks his lower lip between his teeth. you take the hint to loosen your grip on him. “i was worried something bad might’ve happened to you. i… i guess i was right.” your tone softens, you threading a hand in his curls. they’re completely disheveled from whatever went down with him.

ned heads inside to catch up with mj, the two of them letting you have a moment alone.

“someone’s got a spidey sense of their own, huh?” peter tries to lighten the mood by joking. it doesn’t work, a frown still evident on your face as you try to untangle his once soft locks. “baby, everything’s fine. i just… had a little accident is all. no big deal,” he reassures you and moves in to peck your lips. you’re so shocked that you dodge the kiss.

“little? your whole face is black and blue, pete!” you tug on the white collar of his button up, peter letting out a shaky breath. your other hand comes to rest on his cheek, touch gentle. “how’d you get like this?” he licks across his lips shyly and sets his hands on your hips. “see, on the way over there were these bad guys who-“

“no there weren’t,” ned cuts in, scoffing at the beginning of his friend’s story. peter shoots him a warning look over your head. “yes there were, ned. you weren’t even there!” he catches mj glaring at him before he continues. “don’t listen to him. anyway, i had to fight them because…” when he trails off, you stroke your thumb across his cheek, avoiding any wounds in the way. raising both eyebrows, mj speaks up.

“because why? go on, parker. i’m intrigued,” she encourages him. everyone can tell peter is lying except you. the question really is, what’s he lying about? he gulps down his spit, pulling your body against his for comfort. “take your time, peter. we can wait,” you say only for him to hear. his love filled eyes meet yours, and he nods. ned huffs at the dramatics unfolding before him.

“dude, you’re making this way worse than it actually is. just tell her!” he demands, mj cocking her head to the side. peter’s gaze flits between the two of them. “tell me what?” you wonder softly and tilt his chin, willing him to look at you again. “i… i…” peter’s shoulders slump, his voice lowering in defeat. “there weren’t any bad guys.”

“of course there weren’t,” ned confirms. “no shit,” mj adds. exhaling, you wait for your boyfriend to further elaborate. “what really happened, then? be honest, pete.” peter lets go of you so he can come into your apartment properly, you shutting the door behind him. he scratches the back of his neck as he fills you in. “ok. um, me and ned were hanging out.”

ned is attempting to stifle a laugh for some reason, which mj elbows him for. you take one of peter’s hands. “yeah?” “we were at my place, and… you know those really slippery steps on the sixth floor?” peter pauses for someone to answer, playing with your fingers. “the ones flash almost wiped out on once?” mj questions in amusement. he lets a quiet chuckle out. “good times. yeah, those.”

his gaze averts to the ground, you listening on. “so, i was walking ned out on my way over. we were talking about spidey stuff-“ “as per usual,” mj mumbles to herself. ned raises his hands in defense. “—and i told ned i could always stick my landings. he didn’t believe me.” you playfully roll your eyes, seeing where this is going. “so… i, uh, decided to show him,” peter finishes off.

“i did a, um, backflip. tripped and fell down the flight of stairs,” he finally admits to you, putting his other hand on top of your intertwined ones. “clearly, i was wrong.” his bloody face is now red from humiliation. “you didn’t trip, dude. you freaking summersaulted!” ned corrects him and bursts into laughter he’s been holding back. “idiots, both of you,” mj simply remarks.

“that’s it? why didn’t you just say that?” you almost laugh yourself. groaning, peter rests his forehead against yours. “because it’s embarrassing! i wanted you to think i’m a tough guy or whatever.” placing both hands on his cheeks this time, you nuzzle your nose against his. “you don’t have to be a tough guy to impress me, babes. you’re kind, smart, funny. makes up for you being such a klutz.”

peter cracks a grin, easily capturing your lips in the kiss he didn’t get to before. it doesn’t last long because mj gags and ned whistles at you. you’re both giggling when you pull apart, peter kissing the tip of your nose for good measure.

“you really mean that?” he checks, tucking back a strand of hair from your face. “of course. i have a thing for himbos,” you tease and poke at his bare chest. his eyes widen. “how about i get you some ice and you find our first movie?” you’re already off to the kitchen, beaming at peter. “date night’s still on?” he happily plops down on your couch, mj showing ned her pictures from earlier.

“as soon as those two get out of here,” you call loudly enough so ned and mj hear you. “yeah, yeah. we’re leaving,” mj deadpans, shoving the photos back into her portfolio. peter glances over at it curiously. “what’s that for?” “photography project,” she says and gets an idea. “i have some film left. y/n took up most of it… you losers want the rest?”

while mj coerces her way to a higher grade, you put some popcorn in the microwave for your movie marathon.

“well, i could use a new lockscreen. i’m in!” ned quickly concedes. him and mj both give peter hopeful looks. “i’m not!” he protests, squishing one of your pillows against his chest. “with my face looking like… this? forget about it.” mj walks over to him and places her portfolio on the coffee table. “what? those gashes are gnarly… in a good way, i mean,” she promises.

“painful, too,” peter murmurs. “y/n, hurry up with that ice!” mj demands, grabbing the polaroid camera from its string around her neck. you wave her off. “what i’m saying is, they’ll look sick in my portfolio.” mj forces a smile, ned looking at her weirdly. “uh, what’s the theme of your project again?” “freestyle, baby,” mj casually replies.

peter comes up with a condition that could persuade him. “if you say please, i might consider it,” he concludes, mj perking up. “please be in my project. pretty please?” she instantly requests, ned pursing his lips from behind her. peter rubs his chin. “y/n, what do you think? should i?” you pipe in from the kitchen. “yeah, so she’ll leave my house.”

“you heard the lady. i’ll do it,” peter gives in. all but squealing, mj gestures for ned to sit. “this’ll only take a few minutes. you guys are really saving my ass.” ned gets comfortable next to peter on the couch, who wants to see how far mj will really go. “aw, we are? i believe that calls for a…” ned catches on. “it comes after please…” mj picks up her camera with gritted teeth. “thank you, morons. say cheese!”

that’s the only warning peter and ned get before they’re blinded with the flash. ned does a toothy grin as he leans into peter’s side. peter musters up the best smile he can, hair a mess and cuts burning pink on his face. satisfied, mj snatches the photograph as it pops out.

“pleasure doing business with you two,” she states, you joining the three of them in the living room. you set the popcorn on the table and give peter his ice pack. he presses it to his cheek, kissing the back of your hand. “send me that!” ned reminds mj, helping himself to your bowl of popcorn. she salutes him.

“there’s my star. what do you say, y/n? wanna take one more really quick?” mj suggests, already holding up her polaroid. you take the other cushion next to peter, your head on his shoulder. “can peter be in it with me? since he’s in the modeling mood tonight.” he wraps an arm tightly around you. “let’s do it, sweetness.”

eagerly jumping in front of you two, mj crouches down to get a better angle. “on the count of three. one, two, three!” the camera clicks, and you surprise peter by laying a smooch on one of his cheeks. he’s holding the ice against his other, genuinely smiling for this picture. ned coos at you, mj showing off her work when it dries.

“how adorable,” she says sarcastically but means it. peter nods at her in appreciation, his lips brushing the side of your head. “what can i say, you’re a pro,” you compliment mj. “come on, em!” ned cheers through a mouthful of popcorn.

tonight was an unexpected and exciting mess, even if your date night did get crashed.