#you brought me home

[mostunderratedawards]

Most Underrated Original Song

“Mon Soleil” - Ashley Park [Emily in Paris]

“Hourglass” - Mary J Blige [Mary J Blige’s My Life]

‘You Brought Me Home’ - Bridget Everett [Somebody Somewhere]

“North Star” - Tori Kelly [Zoey’s Extraordinary Playlist]

“Trouble” - Troye Sivan, Jay Som [Three Months]

“While You Sleep” - Maisy Stella & Lennon Stella [The Fallout]

“B.P.E. (Big Pussy Energy)” - Girls5Eva [Girls5Eva]

“Noche Buena” - Emily Estefan [With Love]

[gothprentiss]

dreamed that there was major cooking youtuber drama over whether or not you could make bacon in an oven. like it turned out everyone who ever had had individually pan-fried every slice and then just faked the oven thing. and it was impossible to get crispy unburnt bacon in an oven. a man did a youtube shorts exposé on this and slammed his baking tray down onto his induction cooktop to reveal like 10 charred and smoking strips of what had once been bacon

[lazylittledragon]

y'know what. sometimes there is something wrong with you. and i don't mean in a "you are broken and that makes you unworthy" way, just in the "your brain/body does not work the way it's expected to and that's why things are so hard" way

like as someone who grew up constantly being told there was nothing wrong with me and i just had to try harder to clean/socialise/work, knowing i had ADHD earlier would've saved me a LOT of guilt. knowing i have IBS would've prevented a lot of pain/embarrassment from not being able to manage it yet. i wish someone had told me there was a reason i couldn't do things instead of just telling me i was fine. people reassuring me i didn't have any issues to spare me the shame of being "different" only made me feel worse about not being able to function like everyone else!!!

idk sometimes i just wish i knew there was something different about me sooner bc then i would've had an explanation and a way to get better instead of just a lot of self loathing

[static-radio-ao3]

@jegulus-microfic // may 22 // prompt: control // words: 1169

“We should eat soon. Do you have any preference?” James asks as he glances into his rearview mirror.

“No, I'm easy,” Regulus replies. He swipes at his phone again, mindlessly opening the calculator before closing it again. He's been alternating between the calculator and the weather app for the better part of an hour no, nothing else to do on his phone and a deep reluctance to have an actual conversation with James.

He looks up at James when there’s no response. It takes a second for his own words to register and with a sigh he adds, “I meant easy to please.”

Again, the double meaning snatches James’ attention. “I'm just not picky,” Regulus grounds out.

“Yeah,” James scoffs. “I can tell.”

Regulus drops his phone on his lap, turning his head to give James his full attention. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing.” But evidently it is not nothing, because James waits barely a second before continuing with, “It’s just that you barely waited for the bed to get cold.”

“Excuse me?” Incredulity bleeds into his voice.

“I heard that you went out a lot.”

“With my friends.” Late nights wallowing on the couch were only accepted for so long until they started tugging at him with impatient hands, dragging him out of the house and into this club, then that one.

They told him that the best way to get over someone was to get under someone else, but Regulus never did take anyone home. Any pair of hands that didn't belong to James made his skin crawl.

“And we all know how your friends feel about you,” James says harshly.

“Okay, seriously, what the fuck is your damage, James?” Regulus twists in his seat, staring holes into James’ side profile. His messy hair and wire-frame glasses. His cheeks are flushed with anger, but Regulus doesn’t think James has anything to be angry about.

“What's my damage?” James asks, eyes flitting over to Regulus. “What are you, twelve?”

“You know what I mean.”

“Do I?”

Regulus laughs, short and joyless, before dropping back into his seat. His eyes fall shut as he lets his head thud against the headrest. “And I remember, suddenly, why this didn’t work.”

“Yeah? Was it your incessant need to be in control?”

“No, actually. It was your complete and utter inability to listen.”

“Oh, I think I hear you loud and clear,” James scoffs, and Regulus resists the urge to just crawl out the car window. He’s slight enough, he thinks he could fit. As a matter of fact —

“Stop the car.”

“What?”

“You heard me, stop the fucking car.”

“Regulus, you're not walking all the way to Sirius' house. We still have three hours to go.”

“I don't care. Stop. The. Car.”

“What's your damage?”

“My damage is that I'm stuck in a car with you with nowhere else to go!”

It's silent for a beat. Then two.

“Well, I'm sorry you feel that way,” James says eventually, before harshly turning the dial to turn up the volume.

They drive to the roadside restaurant in silence. Or well, as silent as can be with the music playing loud enough that Regulus can’t hear himself think. Just as well. He wasn’t thinking anything nice.

James makes the executive decision to pass by a drive-through, probably to prevent having to spend more time in each other’s company than strictly necessary. Regulus can’t say that he minds.

No words are exchanged as they eat, but when Regulus reaches for his drink in the cupholder, James speaks again.

“Do you still like vanilla milkshakes?” He inclines his head toward the cup in Regulus’ hand. James always teased him about choosing the most boring flavor, but vanilla is a classic and Regulus stands by it.

Regulus has the urge to make a snide comment, but he swallows it down. Glances over at James, tense in his seat, both hands on the steering wheel. It unnerves Regulus a little, seeing James like this. He is supposed to be loose limbs and easy smiles. Not… this.

“Yeah, do— do you still like those cherries?” Regulus asks, holding out his cup for James in case he wants the maraschino cherry that sits on top of the whipped cream. James plucks it out of the swirl with ease, like they never stopped doing this.

“Do you still go to the diner down the street?”

They used to go often. The 24/7 diner, red and white tiles on the walls, cracked leather in the booths. They spent late nights there, when studying took priority over cooking and everything else was closed. Appearing again on a Saturday morning, soaking up the alcohol that still lingered in their systems. Salty and sweet kisses shared next to the jukebox.

“No, it—” Regulus catches himself before he says something embarrassing like it hasn’t been the same without you. “It’s been a while,” he says instead.

“I see.”

Regulus squeezes his eyes shut, black spots swimming in his vision. Then, before he can chicken out, he asks the first thing that comes to mind.

“Does your mom still collect those novelty plates?”

James laughs at that, the sound of it comforting and familiar, and he seems to relax in his seat. Even if just a little.

“She’s actually moved on to novelty shot glasses. My dad had to get rid of five plates he’d bought in advance. I still have them, though. I just know she’ll return to the plate thing soon enough.”

They pass the time like that, dragging up memories and habits, questions flowing between them. Regulus finds that he likes it. He’d missed James’ easy nature, his way of telling stories. He also finds that he is secretly relieved that James hasn’t changed a lot in the time they spent away from each other.

Do you still? Say yes, say yes.

Do you still forget to clean your glasses? Do you still keep a picture of you dad in your wallet? Do you still like your coffee the same way? Do you still—

Say yes, say yes.

“I got the internship, by the way,” Regulus says at some point. He’s not sure how much time has passed, but stretching fields of green are slowly giving way to houses again. “The—”

“—one at the publishing house?” James cuts in excitedly. His head whips to the side to look at Regulus, joy evident in the little crinkles around his eyes. “No way!”

Regulus’ heart stalls and stutters. A heavy beat in his chest. Say yes, say yes.

“I can’t believe you remember that,” he breathes.

Silence stretches between them and for a moment, Regulus thinks the conversation has died down again. It was nice while it lasted.

But then, so soft like he hoped Regulus might not hear, “I remember everything about you.”

Do you still? Say yes, say yes.

“James. Stop the car.”

“What?”

“Stop the car.”

Say yes, say yes.

Thankfully, James doesn’t need to be told a third time.

[masterofiodine]

capvers doodles yay

[clownsuu]

Small detour of what I usually post, but I absolutely wish (other) clown the best of luck during these confusing and almost hopeless times- nobody knows how to deal with such amount of attention in such short amount of time- a blessing and a curse to behold

[undercoverpena]

tell me why I can’t stop thinking of post colombia!javi being in love with his childhood best friend—and why I’m reopening a wip oneshot of him going to her city to surprise her. only to fall more in love with her. tell me why. tell me.

[sergle]

I love to hear what people say about Youtube Drama* but it's SO tacky when it gets so offbase that the posts people make start to be about completely off topic infighting within the Watcher fanbase

[dimension20stuff]

Come home to me, the fire's warm and I am making tea.

When morning arrives, I will be by your side, with some breakfast and coffee.

[amethystina]

Kang Yo Han is the little spoon

Like, at least 80% of the time. Probably close to 90%.

Because while Yo Han might be bold when he's awake, I'm pretty sure he's a lot more hesitant when it comes to soft, intimate cuddling in the dark. It requires a lot of courage to both offer and ask for that kind of affection. And he's just not used to doing it — too awkward and, in many ways, too scared. What does he know about gentleness? And what would happen if Ga On said no? Or stiffened when Yo Han tried to hold him?

Ga On, though? He's the opposite. He's the kind of man who's more affectionate and confident without an audience, when it's just him and the person he cares for. So he would have a much easier time initiating that kind of intimacy after he and Yo Han get together. And, let's face it, if Ga On wants to cuddle, it's easier for him to just wrap himself around Yo Han than try to manoeuvre that unit of a man into being the big spoon.

And, deep down, I think both of them would revel in it.

Because Ga On is such a caring and nurturing person and he'd treasure the opportunity to be the one to offer that kind of warmth and comfort. Especially in such a simple yet honest way, one that also gives him a chance to bury his face against Yo Han's neck and just hold him. To, for once, be the one to take charge and have the answers to what they both need.

And Yo Han? I mean, imagine the relief he'd feel to have Ga On mould himself against his back and instead of phantom pain from his scar, he feels Ga On's heartbeats. And how much sweeter it would feel, that Ga On is the one holding on to him — tightly, fearlessly, of his own choice, and with so much tenderness. That has got to make Yo Han pretty damn euphoric some nights.

In short: Ga On, please give that touch-starved disaster of a man some hugs — he needs it.

They would never actually talk about it, of course, because Yo Han is a very prideful (and silly) man, but they both know. For all his power, strength, and darkness, when it's time to sleep, Kang Yo Han is the itty bitty spoon.

And they both absolutely love it.

[mymainwastoocluttered]

Prof. Trein: Let's talk about the time before magic was a thing–

Ruggie: Nah, too boring

Me: A hyena is gonna die tonight

[jtl-fics]

Fluent Freshman - Part 16

PREVIOUS

Sweeties is very busy tonight but they get a table relatively quickly. He sees some people looking at their group all dressed in the ‘required’ attire for going out to Eden’s and reminds himself that maybe it’s for the best that people remember him tonight. It MAY help the police find his body in a shallow grave somewhere if they can piece together his last few hours.

Nicky stops by the salad bar and grabs three packs of crackers. He hands one pack to FF who just stares blankly at it before shrugging and figuring his stomach needs something so he opens the pack and just eats the crackers.

Nicky looks at him with an abundance of fondness that he doesn’t understand but shakes his head and hands a laminated menu over to him to order dinner from. “I know you’re not drinking but you still gotta take your meds before we leave.” Nicky reminds and FF nods. He reaches into his pocket to confirm that they’re there and feels something cheap and plastic.

Oh god, he forgot to take his Happy Meal Toy out of his pocket. No one needs to know that.

He shoves his hand into his other jacket pocket and the sandwich baggy with his single dose for his Ulcer is right there.

He starts to look at the menu when he realizes that everyone else already knows what they’re going to order since they apparently come here regularly. He tries his best to never be a regular at any place where they can see him and repeat his order back to him (Hello CVS girl, yes thank you for holding some Pepto for him. No he is very brand loyal and would not like to try Tums thank you.)

FF stands behind the art of the panic pick.

He has cultivated this ability over his many years of panicking. He can look at a menu and pick an item that might not be the thing he most wants on that menu it is something that he can eat or drink. Then while he has that pick queued up and ready to fly if a member of the waitstaff comes over before he’s actually read what’s on offer he has his panic pick.

A place like this has GOT to have a burger.

He finds it under the sandwich section easily enough and now he has his panic pick as he peruses the rest of the menu.

The waitress comes far faster than he had anticipated and slams waters down at each of their spots. “What can I get you?” She asks and before anyone says anything Nicky and Aaron slide over the two packets of crackers that she takes before looking at the empty packet in front of FF, “Just two?” She asks.

WHAT KIND OF CODE IS THIS?

“Just two.” Nicky says grabbing his trash and handing it over to her.

She shrugs, “Anything else on the menu I can get you boys?” She asks.

They all make their orders and Nicky, bravely, steps in to remind him he likes his burgers well done when the waitress asks.

“Sorry, I should have warned you.” Nicky laughs bumping his shoulder against FF’s “This place has this stuff called cracker dust, it gets you high but it’s not addictive.” He says.

Every single 80’s PSA goes off in FF’s head all at once.

NICKY “FLIPS TURTLES BACK ONTO THEIR FEET” HEMMICK DOES NOT LOOK LIKE HOW THE ‘JUST SAY NO’ ADS HAD SAID HE WOULD.

There’s not a trench coat! He wasn’t even wearing a hoodie with the hood up! There’s no sunglasses! Nicky had given him a baggie for his ulcer meds but IT WAS A SANDWICH BAG.

“I see.” He says out loud.

“Do you wanna try some.” Aaron asks. He double checks and yeah Aaron is still in the same club clothes he had left the house with. He has on a hoodie but the hood is down.

He does as any 80’s teen sitcom protagonist does by the end of the episode.

“No thank you.”

He thinks Mr. T would be happy that he said No. That ad had been especially nerve wracking as a kid when Mr. T ‘shakes some sense’ into the camera.

“Alright, no worries. Neil and Andrew don’t do any either.” Nicky says quickly.

The drugs come with the food and Nicky and Aaron pocket them before handing over cash to the waitress who just counts it right there. He focuses on digging into his burger and realizes it has jalapeños on it but Nicky volunteers to eat them with his nachos and lets the conversation weave around him as he polishes off his burger and takes his ulcer meds. “Oh cool, hand me the bag so I can keep our stuff in there.” Nicky makes a grabbing motion with his hands and FF just hands it over.

He zones out as he eats his fries. He wonders if Great Gran is upset watching him or if she’s happy that he said no to drugs. Maybe he should have said yes, then he could at least be blasted out of his mind when Andrew dragged him to the basement.

Well, it’s too late now.

The waitress comes and clears out their plates but picks up her notepad and pen again. “So, what ice cream do you boys want tonight?” She asks and looks straight at FF.

But FF is prepared.

Ice cream places are easy. His panic pick is a given, it’s Vanilla. Every ice cream joint has it so he barely even notices how his heart rate kicks up to 190 BPM and his palms grow instantly sweaty.

“Vanilla.”

“Sorry Hun, we’re fresh out.”

OH GOD. QUICK, SAY SOMETHING ELSE.

“Surprise me.”

NO YOU IDIOT SAY CHOCOLATE.

“Surprise you?”

RETRACT, IT’S NOT TOO LATE.

“Yeah. Surprise me.” He repeats and he can FEEL Nicky vibrating with laughter next to him.

“Alright Hun, I’ll surprise you.” She winks at him and he blinks back at her.

The rest of the table all order (They’re all normal people who order strawberry (neil), the special with chocolate (Nicky), Lemon Sorbet (Aaron), and Brownie Fudge (Andrew).

“Surprise me.” Nicky whispers to him.

“I panicked.” He whispers back.

“Yeah obviously.” Nicky snorts but pats him, “It’s fine. The worst is you might end up with Pistachio or something.” He pats FF on the back.

FF likes Pistachio and the world loves to make FF suffer.

“Here you go hun. We just got this in, it’s Mango.” She says setting down two scoops of a bright orange ice cream down in front of him, “With a little surprise.” She winks again as she sets the other ice cream down.

They all get started.

Why is the Ice Cream kind of spicy?

He eventually puzzles out that the waitress has served him a Mango and some kind of pepper (probably habanero) ice cream. She smiles when he thanks her for the surprise, tries not to let it show how much the spice is KILLING his stomach let alone the acid of the mango.

Andrew has his eyes narrowed on him and he’s sure the man doesn’t want him to make a scene at a place that seems to be a frequent haunt for the family. So he eats every last bite and ignores how his lips tingle.

“Ohhh it must have been good. Maybe we should get you her number.” Nicky says looking at his empty bowl.

“No, I’m good.” She was pretty but considering the acid currently swirling in his stomach she probably thought he was an asshole for asking for her to ‘surprise him’. Even if that wasn’t the case, what if she thought it’d be cute to serve him this spicy ice cream as a cute couple thing? His stomach can’t take that.

“Aw man you’re no fun.” Nicky pouts.

They pay for their meals and the waitress hands him his receipt with a wink. He nods back at her before shoving the receipt into his pocket next to the Megamind toy. “Have a good night.” He says.

“You too Hun.” She says.

They head out for Eden’s and in a way the ice cream is a blessing because his stomach hurts enough that he barely even notices his anxiety about being at the place where Andrew most certainly is going to stab him at least once by the end of the night.

MASTERPOST FOR ALL PARTS OF FLUENT FRESHMAN AU

NEXT

Per your requests:

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The requests to be added to the tag list got spread out across a few  different mediums on this one so if I missed you I swear it wasn’t malicious I’m just brunch dumb at the moment. Remind me in the replies!

As stated before if you’re up here and I spelled it  right but you  didn’t  get a notification there might be something  switched around in  your settings that won’t let me tag you properly?

[s-wordsmith]

Something I really need Stranger Things fic writers to know is that no one in rural America was locking any doors in the eighties apart from the government and businesses. I remember when there was a big stink about "we gotta start locking our doors now how am I supposed to remember that every time I leave the house." People didn't lock the doors when they were home until at LEAST the mid-aughts, a lot of people STILL don't. "Oh we can't get into so-and-so's house/car because we don't have the keys!" You do not need the keys, just open the door. "I'm alarmed because I went over to so-and-so's house and their front door was unlocked so I instantly knew something was wrong." It would be much weirder if it was locked. If I showed up at my friend's house and the door was locked I would immediately assume something was wrong. If I lived in a town regularly invaded by monsters and patrolled by mobs of government agents/Russian spies/jocks with guns, I would assume my friend was currently being hunted.

[dkettchen]

people-are-out-without-jackets-on seasonal reminder for all ppl with body dysmorphia & post-transitional leftover-dysphoria that your body is not nearly as bad as your brain thinks it is

[bad-science]

You know you’ve truly made it as a Freaky Weirdo when ppl find something dead and immediately think of you. My sister brought me a dead snake in a McDonald’s bag

[afterthedreamer]

to be loved

is to be changed