#youre so sad dude. how tiring it must be to be so goddamn miserable.

[mandiemegatron]

Yeah hi me again. I think it's fucked up that you cried to your little friends that I was "bullying" you and now some of my favorite one piece writers and artists BLOCKED me! I had to make a whole new account because I couldn't see anything! It's not my fault I don't like your writing anymore, you changed how you write and I told you I didn't enjoy it and I'm being punished for having an optionn?! Fuck you Mandy that's stupid. I wish I never read your shit.

.... you're actually fucking delusional. You need to seek a therapist asap, and maybe even Jesus because this is the wildest thing I've ever had to deal with. I'm assuming you're also @oplover14 (I have you blocked bc you're pathetic and miserable and a BULLY)

I don't know what the fuck I did to you to make you act out like this. I didn't ASK anyone to fuckin block you or anything. I'm literally here for a good time, to have fun and write some silly smutty things, and you're literally jumpin down my throat for what ???? You say you're 33 yet you act like a fuckin 13 year old throwing a goddamn temper tantrum !!! Who the fuck hurt you dude ?!

Literally grow the fuck up and act your goddamn age. You're pathetic and sad, Law and Luffy would punch you right in your disrespectful face. You're no nakama to either of them.

You're entitled to your opinion but you're not entitled to be a fuckin dick abt it. You don't have to like my writing dude but you also don't have to tell me you don't like it. Whatever happened to "if you have nothing nice to say, don't say anything?"

Go back to kindergarten and learn some goddamn manners.

[halo-jpeg]

Bearable | A Reddie Fanfiction

Read it from the beginning

Chapter 7.5

Bev and Richie were sitting alone. It was long past midnight now, the moon high and mighty in the great big sky, and the two were the only ones still left in the clearing of Back Cove Park; Stanley had been the first to go, dragging a rapidly tiring (yet still reluctant to leave) Eddie and Bill behind him. Mike had excused himself next, and Ben had gone with him- the two of them had taken the flashlight, leaving Beverly and her friend in near-total darkness, though they really didn't mind. That was just over an hour ago now, and since the departure of the others neither Bev nor Richie had spoken a word. There was an odd tension in the air, waves of some negative feeling rolling off of Richie so subtly that she hardly noticed them. For a good 30 minutes or so she'd been debating asking him what was wrong, why he was so off, but she had been wondering whether that was really a good idea. There were a few different paths she could take here, and each had their own obvious pros and cons; the first option was to let Richie sit in his silence, to let him have his privacy because she knows how much that privacy meant to him. The next option was to, well, wrap up the evening and leave. Beverly was tired and she was certain that he was too, so maybe it was a good idea to get the both of them home safely to sleep on the struggles. The last option, most likely to best one, was to ask Richie about what was bothering him.

Just be forward Bevvie, she told herself, wringing her hands together and picking out the best words she could. Sucking in a silent breath through her teeth, Beverly let her eyes fall momentarily shut, psyching herself up and trying to scrape together enough confidence to speak. Richie and her were seated nearly back-to-back, nothing but one of the stones/stools between them. Richie had pulled his knees up to his chest, his head leaned back to rest on the rock, eyes upturned towards the sky. From her place cross-legged just behind him, she let her own head fall backwards, bumping gently against his own.

"So," She started, her voice gentle and soft and already warning Richie of her upcoming question, "Are you okay telling me what's wrong?" She rolled her head to the side, regarding him out of the very corner of her eye, and could see the way his shoulders tensed, the way he pulled his knees just a little closer, lifting his head upright. It was as if he were curling into himself, tucking himself away into a metaphorical shell as if he were a turtle.

"Nothing's wrong," Richie said, shrugging, "I'm all god, Bev. Don't worry." Uttering a sigh, Beverly sat up and shifted halfway around the rock so that her shoulder pressed against Richie's in as comforting a way as possible.

"I... I know you don't like it when I press but..." Beverly mirrored Richie's position. going silent for a moment as phrases of comfort and coaxing danced around in her mind. She was good at talking to people, good at becoming an impromptu therapist with nearly anyone who's ever come to her- anyone except for Richie. Something about seeing Richie, esteemed Trashmouth and Man of 1000 Jokes and 6000 Riddles, sad or scared or just bummed out threw her rational brain askew, tossing her to flounder into some ocean of unease and unfamiliarity. "I'm here for you, you know. You can tell me anything. We've been through hell together, Rich, and you'll always be stuck with me." A silence stretched between them, the tension pulled taut and threatening to snap any moment now. Those waves of negativity grew stronger, nearly moving in a pulsing tandem with the distant sound of the ocean; why, Beverly was unsure. It could be both because she was upsetting him even further, or because he was letting his walls down one brick at a time. For a moment, Beverly thought Richie was going to stay silent, to decline her invitation to vent- and then, he let his head fall sideways, resting gently upon her shoulder. He scooted a little closer, arm pressed against arm, and shrugged again, dejected and unsure.

"I..." for once in his life Richie Tozier was whispering. "I'm so gay, Bev. Like, so, so gay." Beverly couldn't help but bark out a quick laugh, resting her own head on top of Richie's and rolling her eyes though he wouldn't be able to see it.

"I know that much, Tozier. I also know that's not all that's bothering you, so what's up? What's the problem?"

"The problem is that stupid, jackass, lovely little guy named Eddie. Jesus, Bev, I didn't think I'd ever like another guy again after-" Richie paused for a moment, letting the silence spell out the name he wouldn't allow himself to say, "But here I fucking am and I just- It's scary, you know? It's goddamn terrifying." Beverly nodded her head, a frown scrawling itself over her face.

"What's the scary part?"

"Remembering. I'm... I'm afraid that I'll fall in love and just get fucked up all over again. It's stupid but I can't shake the feeling that-"

"It's not stupid, Richie!" Bev's tone took on something almost scolding, and she reached for one of Richie's hands to counter the harshness, "Jesus, it's not stupid at all. Nathan," Richie stiffened, "was a dick, he hurt you. It's entirely natural to be afraid of that happening again. I promise, I'll do my best to make sure it doesn't," Beverly wrapped her arm around Richie's shoulders, pulling him closer and planting a kiss into his hair, "Eddie's an angel, Rich, you know that he'd never hurt you, right? And if he did," Bev smiled, "I'd break his stupid, jackass, lovely little neck." Richie chuckled, still weak, and shook his head. For another few beats the two fell back into a lapse of silence. Beverly's thumb, which was rested on the top of Richie's shoulder, began to skate back and forth slowly, comfortingly, rhythmic circles that helped to soothe his mind just a little bit. Sadly, with that soothing came weakening.

"No, you don't have to... you don't have to say that. I dunno," He sighed, and lifted his free hand to peel of his glasses. With the heel of his hand he scrubbed at his eyes, and Bev was dumbfounded to discover that his eyes must have been watering. Seeing Richie cry when he wasn't playing a character was a rare occurrence. She hugged him tighter, laying her legs down and pulling Richie right against her chest, cradling him as if he were a baby. "I don't think I'll ever really make any moves on Eddie. I can't risk it." Beverly opened her mouth to speak again, to repeat that Eddie was a good guy, that he wouldn't do the same things as Richie's ex, but he spoke first, "I know, I know what you're gonna say, but that's not what I mean. What I mean is that I can't risk him hating me for it or something, because then Stan and Bill will probably hate me, too- and... And that means they'll hate all of us." Richie's voice had begun to waver. Never ever has Bev felt so utterly horrible, so guilty even though this isn't her fault. "I don't want them to hate me, and I couldn't stand watching them hate you and Ben and Mike because of me,"

"Richie..." Bev tucked Richie's face against her shoulder, placing one hand on the back of his head to run her fingers through his hair, "If they hated you because you were gay then I wouldn't want anything to do with them, okay? I don't want to know them if you can't be yourself around them." As she spoke, Richie's let out a hitching breath, his battle against his own tears clearly coming closer and closer to an end. She pulled him tighter against him, other arm wrapping securely around his shoulders, and felt him hug her right back with a certain desperation, a certain starvation, clinging to her shirt as if he'd never hugged anyone in his life. It was as if she was going to slip away. He shuddered, fighting back a wail rising in his throat, trying not to sob like a child. Even though Richie was so much bigger than Bev he felt like her arms were hiding him from the world. A wave of sudden vulnerability choked his throat.

"I'm just-" Richie's voice broke and that was it for him. He melted into Beverly, the tears finally flowing free, his glasses discarded somewhere nearby and his face pressed into her shoulder, her hair, smelling her lavender shampoo. He began to tremble lightly, gasping for breath between his tears, hating how quickly he'd broken and loving that Beverly was here to cling to because she was probably the person he trusted most on this fucked up planet. "I just- I'm so scared, Bev, I'm so fucking scared and-" He was interrupted by a racking sob, and his tears strengthened tenfold, "Everything- it's all so f-fucking hard and I- I can't- Why the hell am I like this? Why the fuck can't I just- why can't I just be normal?"

"Richard Wentworth Tozier, you are not allowed to speak like that!" Beverly held him tighter, afraid that she might literally be crushing him but feeling the way he hugged her back, "Being normal fucking sucks, dude! What, you want to be some stupid pencil-pushing white boy? Get a desk job, some lame-ass wife? You can have three kids and hate your life until old age finally takes you away?" Richie nodded into her shoulder and she shook her head furiously, grabbing fistfuls of his gross arcade-carpet button up and turning her head so that her face was pressed into the crown of his head, her voice muffled, "Fuck that, Richie. You're awesome. You are literally the single greatest person that I have ever known in my entire life. You're gonna be the best comedian on the planet, and you're going to find and marry the guy of your dreams. I'm not letting you make yourself miserable just because society wants you to be, okay?" Again, with hesitance, Richie nodded. That wasn't good enough for Bev. "You got it?"

"Y-Yes, yes I-"

"Good," The firmness in her voice leaked away, replaced by that Beverly Marsh tenderness that was always hidden deep down below her spitfire, "Because I don't know what I'd do with myself if you stopped making jokes and got all old and gross." Richie was still crying, his shoulders jumping with each attempted-to-stifle sob that he just couldn't hold in. Feeling rather than seeing the misery in Richie's soul, Bev knew she had to do something to bring back his flame of humor, of idiocy, of downright stupidity. He was a fool, and she loved him for it, so she would make a fool of herself if she had to. Beverly screwed up her face, trying to get her voice to change just like Richie's always do- it didn't come as easy to her, not in the slightest, and she mostly sounded like Beverly Marsh but also sounded just a teeny tiny bit like Richie Void Of Soul. "Oh, sorry Bevvie, I can't come and make you laugh because I have a work potluck," Her voice dragged out, taking on a false-tired, lifeless drawl, and it managed to get a shaky little snicker out of Richie that was wet and sad and overtaken by another shaking sob, "Oh, by the way, do you have a recipe for some coleslaw? Usually Karen in accounting brings coleslaw but she died of boredom right at her desk," Again, Richie let out a shaky little giggle, his voice hitching for breath, little hiccups slipping past his lips as he did. The character Beverly was going for was Richie If He Followed Social Norms. It seems the joke landed at least enough to brighten the usually unshakeable mood of Richie Tozier.

"You can drop that recipe off any time after five o'clock tonight," His voice was strained, tiny and Richie pitched it up an octave and tried his best to mimic the depressing lifelessness Bev had adopted, "Any earlier than that and I might be at my sweet angel Joseph's ballgame." Beverly was laughing now too, rocking gently back and forth with Richie still held tightly in her arms.

"What are you, a soccer mom?"

"O-Only if you take Joseph and the team out for pizza after, because I'm just so proud of them. Who cares if they lost!" Richie wiped his damp eyes on Bev's shirt and leaned away, his shoulders, which were hunched, leaning back just gently as he straightened up again. He was grinning in a way that almost looked frightening, tear-stricken and all tooth and self-loathing and relief to have cried out all the sadness.

"Everyone is a winner in my book! Saddle up gang, to the Pizza Hut we go!" Beverly pumped a fist into the air, wiping at her own damp eyes and wearing a grin not dissimilar to Richie's own. Reduced to sad, scared, giggling children in one another's arms, Richie began to feel just a little better. If he tried really hard and had his friends at his side then maybe he really would fine his soulmate or his dream guy or whatever other silly name existed for 'the one'. Maybe he would fulfill his dreams and become a real standup guy, or maybe he'd pursue ventriloquism or he'd become a Rockstar or a radio host or something like that. With a few more minutes together, Richie nearly squashing Bev under his weight, he began to feel good enough to function again. Richie leaned in one more time, wrapping his arms tightly around Beverly's shoulders and crushing the soul out of her in a bear hug. After a moment of near-suffocation he pulled away, his smile more natural than it had been moments later. The two began to untangle themselves from one another like some finicky Christmas lights, and then Richie sat heavily at her side still sitting shoulder-to-shoulder.

"Thanks, Bev." Richie clasped his hands, letting them rest in his lap. Beverly's smile shrunk into something serene and loving, and the two let minutes tick by in silence as Richie picked up his last stray pieces and clicked them back into place. Once Bev was certain he was A-Okay once more she let her head shift to look at him, watching him replace his glasses and piping up with a cheeky question and a cheekier grin. Humor and teasing always was the best way to get Rich's spirits up again.

"So Eddie, huh? I didn't take him as your type." Richie let out an incredulous sound, staring at her in disbelief. The way his eyebrows had shot up said 'What the hell are you talking about? Have you seen him?'.

"He's such a- such a little bastard, it's adorable. How can you not be into that?" At this, Beverly nodded her head, letting out a sound that meant 'you have a point' and accenting it with a half-shrug that clearly didn't suffice for Richie believing that she was convinced, "And he's smart and annoying and- well, he's cute, too. So cute with his freckles and his eyes and his hair- not to mention he's way shorter than me- and... uh..." Richie cut himself off, seeing the way that Bev was looking at him. Suddenly, his face went red, flushing with heat, and he lifted one hand to scratch at the back of his neck. He smiled sheepishly. "I... I like him, I think."

"Yeah, Rich," Beverly grinned, her heart swelling with endearment, "I think you probably do."

[superthiccthighssavelives]

Angsty Prompts

Alright @primaba11erina, here is part 1/2 of your prompts.

It’s long af, so I had to split it into 2 pieces, it’s really sad honestly, and my heart hurts from writing it, but hopefully this is what you wanted from them. ❤

Please listen to:

*Ocean Eyes - Billie Ellish*

*Everything to Help You Sleep - Julien Baker*

*The Beach - The Neighbourhood*

(and whatever heartwrenching music you have to get into the mood)

The 2 prompts from the angsty list are in bold

48- “You’re hurting me”

49- “Please just let me go”

@alyss--in--wonderland, @linseykalynn, @jolovesfandoms and whoever else wants to read it.

I’m 3 months into my first semester at college, and I’m completely miserable. I missed my family, I missed my friends, and I especially missed my boyfriend. I knew it was going to be hard, without everyone, but not this hard. I walked around with a black cloud over my head, I couldn’t sleep, I lived off black coffee and my best friend was a tube of concealer. 

My boyfriend, Taron, and I had been together since middle school, ya know the innocent puppy love, developing into a more serious relationship. We were always together, we never fought, well rarely, it was so easy with him. He was my best friend. We barely talk. Between classes, studying, sleep?, and everything else, it’s usually twice a week. A quick goodnight here and there, and maybe facetime on the weekend. This sucks. I haven’t even seen him since I left.

He stayed back in London, going to a drama school. His talent was too good to pass this opportunity up. We agreed before I left to make sure nothing would change, we both cried like babies, and couldn’t let one another go. After a few hours, I had to tear myself away or I’d end up staying. 

Now, 3 months later, I feel like we’re strangers. It may be naive to think that we could keep this relationship from destructing, especially being so young, but, we really do have an amazing thing going. Or did. I tried to concentrate on school, but as time passed, and more time passes, my thoughts get farther and farther away from that, and are planted in worry and ...that uncomfortable, writhing, anxiety ridden feeling in my stomach.

It’s Friday, and I’m about to finish my last class. I wish I could go home for the weekend, maybe take a day or two off after, to see my mom, my sister, and Taron. I don’t even think we’ve talked in a week, the anxiety was building back up again. We basically were playing phone tag, he’d call when he was free, but I was in class, I’d call him but he’d be in rehearsal. I hate this. I hate this so goddamn much. 

I drag myself back to the dorms, skipping the coffee, I just want to sleep. I feel like a snail, I’m practically crawling back. Halfway down the hall, I see someone standing by my door. My eyesight is terrible, I can’t see anything more than 6 feet in front of me. I try to focus my gaze, figuring it was another dude my roommate was banging. As I get closer, my heart speeds up, I see him, my boyfriend, and I very nearly knock him over as I plow into him with a hug. 

“Oh my god, what are you doing here?”

He smiled, god, I love his smile, I missed it.

“Surprise!”

I felt tears welling up in my eyes, I couldn’t believe it. He was really here. 

All I could do was stare at him, study his face, the color of his eyes, his pink lips, the way the front of his hair has a little curl to it. I barreled myself into him again, squeezing as hard as I could. I don’t care if we just stay like this for however long he’s here, I don’t want to let him go. 

He pulled back, placing his hands on either side of my face. 

“Are you alright sweetheart?” 

I sniffled, realizing I had actual tears dripping down my face. 

“I just, I really missed you.” “I’m so glad you’re here.”

“I was going crazy not being able to talk to you, I’ve been miserable.” “My mam got sick of me, I was kind of being a dick, so she bought me a bus ticket to come for the weekend.”

I grabbed his hand, pulling him into my room. My legs were starting to get weak, the walk to the dorms is a bit aways from campus, and I hadn’t slept proper in weeks. A yawn slipped out, maybe I should have grabbed that coffee after all. 

“Bored of me already?” A cheeky smile spread across his face

“Sorry, I’ve had a rough couple of weeks, I’m just a little tired.”

I moved closer, sitting on his lap, wrapping my arms around his neck, pressing my forehead to his.

“I’m so so so so so happy you’re here, I can’t even tell you how much.” I could feel my eyes watering again, I really was draining myself so much that I’d become an emotional mess. 

He wiped my stray tears away with his thumb, and gave me a gentle kiss. I wanted to stay like this forever. He felt like home, comfort, my heaven. My lips returned to his, just wanting to feel him, his body, his energy, his whole being, just close.

This feeling was so overwhelming, I stopped and just pulled him closer again, my head on his shoulder. His arms were wrapped as tight as they could be around me, rubbing my back.

He soothed me, whispering in my ear, kissing my cheek, my temple. 

Eventually I let the craziness pass, and asked what he wanted to do while he was here.

He shrugged “Really, just wanted to see you.”

I couldn’t help but smile. He brought out what I hadn’t felt in months, happiness. 

We ordered a pizza and watched movies on my laptop, while I struggled to stay awake. His body was warm, and familiar, and my eyes were drooping, and I ...was...so...tired. 

I snuggled up as close as I could get to him, his arm wrapped around me, his hand twirling around in my hair. I felt more and more relaxed as each second passed, I couldn’t fight it any longer. 

I jumped up abruptly, not knowing what day or time it was, thinking I was late for class. It took me a second as I looked at the clock that read 11:13, to figure out if it was AM or PM. 

My brain started to wake up, glancing beside me to see Taron looking at me concerned. “Are you alright love?”

“Yeah, is it morning or night?” 

“Morning, you’ve been out for 12 hours, are you sure you’re alright?”

I plopped back down, pulling him to me for a kiss, even though I’m sure my breath was terrible, I just wanted to make sure he was still there and I wasn’t dreaming. 

“Of course, I’ve not been sleeping well, and I think my body just decided to take over. I’m sorry I slept so long, is there anything you wanna see, or do today?”

“Whatever you'd like.”

I thought for a moment, unsure of where to take him. There is that bookstore/cafe I go to a lot when I need to get away from my roommate and her endless stream of men. It was late autumn, so a walk through the park to see all the beautiful colored trees and landscapes would be nice too. 

After a shower, and doing the minimum on my hair and makeup, I hurried back to my room. I didn’t want to waste any time doing anything but being with him. 

We had an amazing weekend, I took him to all my favorite places, we tried a new restaurant I’d been afraid of eating at, and crashed back at my room. We definitely made up for lost time, I forgot how incredible he felt and what he could do to me and my body. It was almost enough to make me quit school and go back home with him. 

Sunday afternoon was upon us, and I dreaded sending him off. I just hope this feeling would linger after he’s left, enough to keep me going for another month until winter break.                    

He gave me the sweetest kiss and whispered that he loved me, and then he was gone, like he was never there at all.

I had the urge to chase after the bus, and beg him to stay with me, just for a little while, but my brain was too rational and instead, I sat on a nearby bench and text him all the things I couldn’t say before he left. Have a safe trip, text me when you get there, thank your mom for me, I already miss you, I can’t wait until winter break…

The next month plodded along, it felt like a damn eternity. I worked extra hard on my assignments, I needed the distraction. I packed as much as would fit in my suitcase and took a taxi to the bus station. It took a few hours to get home, which of course, felt like days, I just wanted to relax for a few weeks. My stomach was in knots with every mile closer. 

The last time I spoke to Taron was 2 weeks ago, I hadn’t gotten a moment to call him, and he must have been on the same schedule, because I’ve heard nothing from him, not even a text. 

We had one phone call the week he returned back to London, but he was distracted, at rehearsal, every time I tried to say something, he’d yell back to someone in the background, laugh, apologize, say a few words, and repeat. I’d gotten frustrated and told him to just go back to whatever he was doing, I wanted to hang up on him, but I knew I’d regret it after 5 minutes.

He seemed so distant, and after the weekend we had, I thought that would bring us closer after all that time apart. But...guess not.

I did text him a couple of days ago to remind him I’d be in on Saturday afternoon, and couldn’t wait to see him. But, no reply. I was a little upset, but really, I just wanted to get home and wrap myself around him. I’m sure there was a good explanation. 

I finally arrived, running the moment I caught a glimpse of my mom. Again, my emotions were flooding out of me and couldn’t help but cry and squeeze the living daylights out of her. 

The house looked different, but the same, that weird being away thing that affects your thinking. I text Taron, telling him I’d made it back, and was looking forward to seeing him, again. Mom made the best meal I’ve eaten in months, I caught up with my sister, going over the latest high school drama. 

I kept checking my phone, every other second, waiting, but still nothing. I was starting to worry, and run through a thousand ridiculous scenarios, which caused my awful feeling to build. 

I snuck away for a moment, and tried to call him, but it went straight to voicemail. It was becoming too late to go anywhere to see if he was home or ...who knows where. 

I felt awful, my stomach wouldn’t stop twisting, making me nauseated. I didn’t know what was happening, or why he hasn’t even contacted me in weeks. As tired as I was, I knew I wouldn’t be able to sleep, emotions, for a lack of a better word, suck.

I threw on a jacket and flittered out to sit on the front porch with a cup of coffee. I tried to pick out the constellations I could spot, text some of my friends to plan a meet up, and tried Taron again. Same straight to voicemail. I was halfway between detrimental anger and wanting to cry my eyes out. It was just about midnight, and I had no idea what to do. Everyone in the house was asleep, I felt completely alone. 

I raided the bathroom cabinet to find something to knock me out, I definitely was going to need help falling asleep. I found some allergy meds that were supposed to make you sleepy, I crossed my fingers downing 2 pills. It kinda worked, I passed out for a couple of hours, but woke up with a racing heart around 3am. My phone blinded me, lighting up with a text.

Taron - ‘See you soon xx’

I stared at the screen, waiting for more, something else, an apology, an explanation, that he missed me, anything but some generic ass, nondescript text. 

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

I threw my phone, thankfully it landed on my area rug and not the wood floor. I was so pissed. After 3 weeks, that’s all he has to say? 

My mouth was dry and I had a terrible taste on my tongue, I darted downstairs for a drink, trying my hardest not to grab caffeine. I poured a glass of milk, and grabbed some cookies, I guess I was hungry too. 

Halfway up the stairs, I almost dropped my glass when my phone started chirping, loudly. Taron.

I should ignore it, like he’s been ignoring me. I watched it for a moment, and sighed answering.

“Yes?”

“Baaaaaaabyyyyyyyy, where are you?” He was clearly drunk.

“Taron, I’m home, remember?”

“Come see me, I’m…” The sound was muffled and I heard shuffling, then laughter.

“Oops, I dropped you.”

I rolled my eyes, my anger turning red hot. He was out, getting wasted, and hasn’t even attempted to contact me. 

“Taron, It’s 3am, I’m going to bed.”

More laughter and voices in the background. 

“Taron?” “Hello?’ 

“Sorry, where are you love?”

His speech was slurred, and quick. 

“Home, in bed.”

“Bed, ooh, what are you wearing?”

“Goodnight Taron.”

I waited for him to say something, but I just heard some people in the background laughing more and mumbling things I couldn’t make out.

“Ok, bye then.” I hung up, frustrated and upset. 

A minute later, my phone was lit up with another call. I ignored it. 

And another.

He left a voicemail, I couldn’t make out half of what he was saying. 

He tried to call again. I shut off my phone and took some deep breaths to calm down. 

I woke up to the smell of bacon and pancakes. My nose carried me downstairs, only to find Taron in the kitchen with my mom, shoving a cinnamon roll into his mouth.

“Mornin sunshine!”

I glared at him, pouring myself some orange juice. He came up behind me, crossing his arms around my waist, whispering in my ear, “Missed you.” then kissing my cheek. 

Mom excused herself sensing something off.

“What are you doing here?”

His eyes bulged. “What do you mean? I wanted to see you.”

“You wanted to see me so bad that you didn’t text or call me for 3 weeks? And then wouldn’t reply to anything either? Then you call at me fucking 3am drunk?”

He sighed, rubbing his forehead. 

“Shit, I’m sorry, we had a good first show, so we celebrated.”

“Oh, good to know, maybe if I knew, I could have been there to see, but, it’s cool.”

He reached for my hand, but I withdrew, pulling my robe tighter.

“I’m sorry, I am, it’s been just really crazy lately, you know?”

“I guess.”

“Babe, come on, don’t be mad at me, please?”

He made an exaggerated sad pout, causing me to yet again roll my eyes. 

“Stop, I wanna be mad at you.”

Honestly, looking at him, and those ridiculous puppy dog eyes he was giving me, was breaking me down. 

He kissed my cheek “Come on.” *kiss* “Let’s eat.” *kiss* “I’ve missed you.” *kiss* “You look so cute with your hair a mess.” *kiss* “I’m so happy you’re home”

“Alriiiiight, stop.” He was so damn charming, he could get away with murder. I couldn’t help the grin spreading across my face. 

He kissed my lips, and grabbed my hand to lead me to the table.

We spent the next couple weeks glued to one another, the only time we were apart was a few hours on the weekends when he had a show to do, he slept over almost every night. 

I found some time to hang out with some of my girlfriends, do some shopping, catch up on our lives. I still had 3 more weeks at home, and I couldn’t have been happier, and avoiding every thought that entered my mind about going back.

Taron’s break was much shorter than mine, so time with him after that was few and far between. He did invite me to one rehearsal, that was fun. The rest of the time I just lounged as much as I could, read a few books, and mapped out my new classes. 

It was my last weekend home, thinking about going back to school was making my stomach turn. I didn’t want to leave. 

Taron took me out for a semi-fancy dinner the night before I had to head back. We, of course, again, promised each other things would be ok, and to never let more than a week go by without speaking. We had every good intention to.

We ended up at a pub for a few drinks with all our friends, I wasn’t going to see anyone again for 6 months. I didn’t want to be hungover on the long bus ride back, so I kept it to a minimum. Can’t say the same for Taron though. I had to basically carry him to the taxi and then to his doorstep. I was a little disappointed that this was our last night together, and I couldn’t even talk to him properly. I got him to his bed, covered him up and sat down beside him. His eyes were closed, but not yet passed out. I pushed his hair back from his forehead, running my fingers along his cheekbones, lips, jawline. I wanted to memorize every piece of him.

His eyes sprung open, a silly grin on his face, and pulled me down to him. “I love you.” He gave me a rough kiss on my cheek and was out for the rest of the night. I gave him a gentle kiss on his lips, took one last look and made my way out.

Another sleepless night was ahead of me, I felt different, I didn’t know exactly what ‘it’ was, but I knew it felt like a change. 

The drive to the bus station was quiet, save for the dripping rain down the windows. I hugged mom goodbye, and she promised to come visit me soon. 

Back at the dorm, it felt empty, and cold. I unpacked, and just laid in my bed staring at the ceiling. I hadn’t even looked at my phone since before I left. Of course, there were messages from him.

Taron - “Are you still here?”  12:42pm

“Please tell me I didn’t miss you leaving?” 12:55pm

“I’m so sorry, I swear, I didn’t mean for the night to go like that.” 1:14pm

“Text me, call me when you get there, please.” 1:47pm

“I miss you, it feels so empty when you’re gone.” 3:02pm

“Are you home yet?” 4:55pm

“Please call me.” 5:33pm

The last text was just my name and a sad emoji. 6:01pm

There were a few missed calls from him, and only one voicemail, no words, just a few seconds of a sigh, and a *click*

I was tired, I still had one more day before school started again, and I was going to use it for sleep. 8:35pm

I woke up too early the next morning, and needed the coffee I had been avoiding at home. I threw on whatever was visible on my floor, threw on a beanie and headed out the door. 

My phone was dead, I must have forgotten to charge it. Oh well. 

The coffee was so hot, and exactly what I needed. I took the long way back, opting for a few detours through the city. It was lightly raining, and chilly, but somehow it felt like the best thing ever at that moment.

I gazed at the dead, bare trees, the grey, gloomy sky, and the droplets of water gently plopping to the ground, it was beautiful. Even though everything was dead, decaying, it would be reborn, and more glorious than before. No, this wasn’t some metaphor for my life, or maybe it was. I don’t know. 

When I returned back to the dorms, my roommate was back, unpacking. We exchanged some light words, and she headed out, leaving me to my own devices again. I binged watched some Netflix shows, and avoided charging my phone. It was still in my handbag, and I didn’t feel like getting up. I passed out early, awaking the next morning right on time to start my new semester.

Eventually, my phone was revived, strangely it took me a few days to even bother. A few messages cascaded in, from mom, my sister, one of my friends, and only one from Taron. 

Taron - “I’m sorry.” Monday 1:37am

I called mom, assuring her everything was fine, caught up with my sister, replied to my friend, and left the last message unanswered.

I didn’t know what to say right now, and I needed more time to think before I decided to say anything. 

A few weeks passed, surprisingly that black cloud lightened, and the sun came out. I was doing extremely well in all my classes, and I had met a few new people from my dorm hall, and my psychology class. I started to go out more, enjoy life, find myself. I took an art class even though I have no artistic talent, I hoped maybe it was hidden. 

I felt a heaviness over me at times, I hadn’t replied to Taron at all. I had to eventually, either resolve it, or just ...no, I didn’t want to think about it. I was in a sort of bubble, and I didn’t want to burst it, not yet.

I dialed his number, listening to the multiple rings before his voicemail hit. 

“Hey...we need to talk, umm, yeah, call me when you get this.” I hung up before I changed my mind.

Around 9pm I heard a knock at my door. His hair, and clothes were soaked. His face was covered in worry and somberness. 

I stood there, in awe for a moment. 

“Get in here.” 

I grabbed a towel,  handing it to him. 

“What are you doing here?” This felt familiar.

He just looked at me, mouth open, taking a moment, while attempting to dry himself off.

“What’s going on?” “What’s happening?” “I’m worried.”

I sighed, I honestly had no idea what to even say. 

“Take off your clothes.”

He raised an eyebrow, looking amused.

“They’re soaked, You’re not sitting on my bed all wet.”

I dug through my drawer, finding a t-shirt and oversized pajama pants for him to put on.

“Why haven’t you answered any of my calls, or messages?” “Is everything alright?”

I remained quiet, still not sure of what was going on myself. 

“I don’t know.” was all I could come up with.

“You don’t know what?”

“Anything.”

It was quiet for a minute.

“Things aren’t the same, don’t you feel it?”

He stared, searching my eyes, trying to understand.

“I don’t know, maybe a bit.” “But life never stays the same, things always change.”

“Yeah, they do, and …” I pinched my lips, trying to figure out how to put the next sentence together. “And I think we’ve changed, too much.”

It grew quiet again.

“I’m sorry.” was the only thing that slipped from his lips. His head down, arms rested on his knees, and his hands running through his hair.

“Don’t be, I mean, it happens, as much as we don’t want it to, it happens. It’s no one’s fault” 

“How can you be so, calm?”

“I’ve had a lot of time to think. Until right now, I didn’t know what was happening, it tore me apart, it’s been ripping me to shreds for months, ever since I first came here. I missed you so much, I spent so many nights lying awake, crying, wanting to just say forget it and go back home. I was so incredibly happy when you came to visit that day, I thought if I just waited it out, things could be good again, but things never work out like we plan.”

“I’m sorry, I swear, I didn’t mean for that night to end up like it happened, I promise, I will do anything, let’s just work this out, we can figure out how to make this work.”

I shook my head, I couldn’t. Not anymore. It was killing me, everytime he leaves, or when the phone doesn’t ring for 2 weeks, I let a little piece of him break away.

“Taron, I can’t, I just, can’t.” I was feeling that nauseous feeling creeping back in, and my heart bursting into millions of pieces. 

“Please, I know we can.” He grabbed my hands, pulling me towards him. “Look at me, please.”

I was afraid to, I knew I was either going to buckle and give in, or immediately start crying. 

He tilted my head up to him, his finger under my chin. He went on and on, trying to convince me we could make it work, that we can schedule times to talk, and we’ll visit every other weekend.

I couldn’t take it anymore, my eyes betrayed me, spilling salty tears down my cheeks.

“Taron, stop, you’re hurting me, please just let me go.”

I could barely get the words out, I was out of breath, I felt ill, I couldn’t stop bawling.

I turned away, trying to calm myself. He came around to face me, placing his hands on my face, gazing deep into my eyes. “I’m so sorry, I never meant to hurt you, I’m sorry.” Tears were forming in his eyes, making them glisten. He gave me one last lingering kiss on my forehead, grabbed his things and walked out the door. 

[sallyface-incorrect]

The Struggles of Having ADHD

- Only Being able to sleep either 2 hours or 16, there’s no in between. I am legit typing this at 3:02 am because I can’t sleep and I haven’t slept that much and it sucks. Summer is for sleeping, not for stress.

- Not being able to remember basic information about someone like their name, but being able to remember that they once told you that their great great aunt had a mole on her foot the shape of Texas. True story btw, sorry Amber.

- Feeling like your being rejected if your friend can’t make it to hang out with you because of family reasons. RSD is a bitch. Like the tiniest thing can make you feel rejected. Ie, your mom telling you not to be so loud, someone asking why your sneezes are so loud, someone asking you to return their pen, etc.

- Having your medication ware off/forgetting to take it and being the most annoying bitch in the galaxy. I once went on a school trip and my meds wore off and I ended up spending the 2 hour bus ride back annoying the guy who was trying to sleep in front of me, again, I am so sorry Max.

- IDK if it’s just me but, chewing on literally everything. Bottle caps, paper, fabric, rubber (my favorite), and much more. I used to get punished all the time for chewing on things I wasn’t supposed to. Nail biting is also a big thing. And so is hair chewing.

- Being told “You’re too smart to have ADHD”. Well Susan, I have a neurological devolpmental disorder, I’m not retarded.

- Either giving too much information or not enough when in conversation, and also bringing up really irrelevant things in the conversation like, I know we’re talking about the Louisiana Perchance but can I tell you about this one time it rained and I saw a snail?

- Being botherd by loud and/or repetitive noises. Pen clicking and high pitched sirens make me want to scream. They suckkk harder then Travis wants to suck Sal’s dick. And the worse is when people think you’re weird or that you have a problem with them for asking. I understand you like to click your pen and I’m so sorry it’s just so loud...

- Being afraid of your friends rejecting you. Again, RSD is a bitch. Like you’re afraid that one day your bestie will get up and leave and never come back and it’s all your fault and you suck and ughhhhhh. You’re also afraid their s/o / parents hate you and one day they’ll convince them to just leave you.

- Medication is a godsend but it’s also problematic. The stuff that I take fucks up my sleep schedule, my appetite, and make me tired and nauseous. It also gives me headaches and belly aches :(

- Either being so hungry that you also eat everything in your fridge or being so not hungry that even the concept of food disgust you. And sometimes, you even throw up because food is so gross and you’re gross and all that gross is inside you and eww.

- Intense, powerful migraines. They get worse in the winter months. Last year I took almost a week off of school because my migraines got worse and worse and worse and I couldn’t do it.

- Having no measurement of personal space or how to physically interact with someone. I just said hi, do I hug you, do I high five you, idk? Like idk how many potential friendships I’ve fucked up because I was too handsey.

- Being really particular about the type of clothing I wear. I love LOVE long sleeve shirts/ sweatshirts/ sweaters/ hoodies and shorts. I also love to wear socks around the house. I hate HATE wearing socks with shoes though, it makes me anxious. I also hate wearing certain types of pants. I literally only have 2 - 3 pairs of pants I’ll wear because pants sometimes feel like a tent and I hate that.

- Not being able to loose weight. I’m not fat, or chubby, I mean I have abs for God’s sake! It’s just that I have thick ass thigh I h a t e and I wish I could just get rid of them but my medication prevents me from loosing all that weight. On the bright side, I can eat a lot and not gain weight either.

- Having certain little routines you can’t skip. For example, every morning I must shave my legs and brush my hair or the world will end. I also must have all the doors and windows closed or else I’m gonna scream.

- Also idk if this is a problem for anyone else but doors and windows being open. I can’t stand it, I mean please, I don’t care that you’re just coming up for 1 thing but p l e a s e for the love of g o d, close the door that leads to upstairs. Having it open just isn’t right.

- Hyperfixiating on something for soo long that you forget to do basic hygiene like shower, use the bathroom, brush your hair, brush your teeth. It can get you in really big trouble but at least the job is done.

- Having a comfort item. Like I have this stuffed lamb whose name is “Lambchop” but I call “Lambie” and I sleep with them each and every night and carry them around the house with me when I’m home and if I’m upset I NEED to cuddle them bacuse it’s the only thing that will make the world go away.

- Being insanely good at certain academics and shitty at others. For example, when I was in 5th grade I was reading at an undergrad level and had the ability to understand science concepts a senior would be learning but my math was at the level of a second graders.

- Idk how to describe it but like, doing movements half way and the forgetting about them. Like this one time I was at a piano recital and I went to reach for something and forgot what I was reaching for so I just kinda held my hand up in a grabbing motion for half a song and then forgot about it until my mom reminded me to put it down.

- Not being able to understand that people don’t want to hear about your hyperfixiation. I’ve had 2 cases of this in my life, my “ghosts are definitely really and now this is my only personality triat” and my “I’m not a weeb but Tokyo Ghoul is so good now let me tell you all about the plot.” (Tokyo Ghoul gang REPRESENT)

- Having 3 different moods, hyperactive, normal, and cold. Like you’re normal most of the time but sometimes you’re sooo hyper that your an entirely different person, or sometimes you’re sooo distant you’re a different person too.

- Not being able to identify your emotions very well. Like, this guy just told me that my dad and my bestie are asshole who deserve to die in a fire, what am I feeling? Am I sad? Angry? Scared? Do I think this is funny? Am I gonna laugh? Cry? Idk, throw hands? Or the dreaded crush. Do I have feelings for this person or do I just want to be really good friends? Do I hate them? Love them? Am I gonna cry the next time I see them? Last time we hung out was fun but idk???

- Also like I mentioned, romance/sexuality is hard. Last time I dated I dated this guy I really liked, or at least I thought I did. We dated for three months before I blew it off because he asked to put his arm around me and it was weird when I said yes. Also sexuality. Idk if this is a problem for anyone else or just my bisexual ass. Like it’s so hard and I really like guys but hey, girls are hot. And like I like guys more than girls?? Sometime it makes me feel really fake.

- Really enhanced weird hearing. I know at least 80% of my classes drama because I have superhearing and I’m a literal hearing god bow down, bitch. I can hear the smallest of sounds and such, but for some goddamn reason I can’t understand how loud I’m being.

- Extestensial nihilism and just being cool about it. Like, dude, idk if there’s a god out there? I’d like to think there’s some sort of Devine power and we have a purpose but idk, we probably don’t have a purpose. I mean, we’ll be forgotten after we die anyway unless we’re Tom Holland. And love probably doesn’t exist either and it’s only stigmatized by movies and books and media and we’re all gonna get married and be miserable for ever and such. But like does it really even matter? In the end we’re all alone so go off I guess.

- Being really sensitive to smell. Certain smells drive me through the roof. For example, I have an extreme fish allergy and even smelling the slightest hint a salmon can give me a migraine so intense I think I’m dying. Or essential oils. Ughh I hate those. They send me through the roof.

- Being able to remember something you heard in a YouTube video you watched back when you were nine but not being able to remember when you birthday is some days because it really be like that.

- Being really good with little kids. Idk if everyone is like this but I am very childish myself and little kids love me. I have at least 3 little boys in 1st - 3rd grade who think I’m their girlfriend and 8 little girls in kindergarten - 5th grade who think I’m their big sister, it’s really sweet.

- Always apologizing is a big thing for me. When I was a child I used to get in trouble for saying sorry when I did anything and that carried to teen hood. Last year at my dance class my teacher noticed this and tried to help me break my habit god bless you Christine.

Thank you for coming to my Ted Talk bois. ADHD sucks but I know you can do it👌🏻

[hotshithaxxorbitch]

october first

you’re laying on the living room floor, your penthouse a haze of smoke as donny sits at your feet, the tattoo needle buzzing away on your ankle. you can feel the vibrations in your bones. 

“Who the fuck is D.S. anyway?” donny asks, his voice low and slurred. you groan, blowing your bangs out of your eyes, and fumble blindly above your head for the joint, taking a hit. 

“just someone i used to know.” you shrug, wanting to avoid the subject if he’ll let you. you’ll share if she pushes, he’s got a tattoo needle to your ankle and he’s also where you get all your drugs.

“Mhm, sure, I love to get fucked up and tattoo the initials of casual acquaintances on my body.” he replied. 

“shut the fuck up, donny.”

“C’mon, give me the deets, Rox” you can hear the smirk in his voice, and you’d throw yourself to a sitting position if he wasn’t tattooing you. 

“i told you not to fuckin’ call me that donny.” you all but growl, tilting your head up to fit him with a glare. 

“Let me guess. The mysterious D.S. used to call you Rox.”

“don’t even fuckin’ say it, okay? i don’t want to hear it come out of your fuckin’ mouth.” you’re getting actually angry now, and you know donny can tell, because he clears his throat awkwardly. 

“Fine, but seriously, who the fuck is this dude?” 

“he was my best friend. the first person who ever gave a shit about me.” and probably the last, you think, sad and bitter. but look at you! you fucked up that too. good job, roxy. ten outta ten. 

“Where’s he at now?” donny asks, rounding the s off over roxy’s ankle bone. the pain barely registered. 

“things went wrong. i was too much for him, or somethin’.” you shrug, not wanting to get into it too deeply.

“Couldn’t handle your crazy, eh?” donny says, and you can hear him raising his eyebrows. it makes your blood boil. the buzzing stops, your small tattoo finished, and donny puts the machine down and puts a hand on your thigh. you resist the urge to kick him in the throat. “Don’t worry, baby. I’ll take care of you.” his voice is more slurred than before, he must have taken a hit when you weren’t looking. his hand slides up your thigh. you smack his arm away, probably hard enough to bruise. 

“get the fuck out, donny.” your voice is low and tense. 

“C’mon, Rox. Just do me a favor.” he murmurs, his voice low. he puts his hand back on your knee. 

“i fucking TOLD YOU,” you shout, bringing yourself to a sitting position and grabbing the collar of donny’s shitty novelty shirt “not to goddamn call me that.” you shove him backwards, and you hear one of your ashtrays crack as he knocks it over, stumbling backwards. you pull a wad of money from the pocket of your shorts and toss it at him. “leave me a j and some coke and get the fuck out, donny.” you growl, pulling yourself to your feet and heading for your bedroom, slamming the door. you stand just behind it, listening to donny grumble and curse as he gets his shit together. you hear him open the door, and before he opens it, he calls out to you. 

“No wonder he ditched you, crazy bitch.”

the door slams, and you open the bedroom door, staring blankly out at your living room. it’s a complete disaster, just like the rest of your life. to his credit, donny did leave a joint and a baggie of coke on the coffee table. 

you grab the joint, an open and half full bottle of vodka, and your phone and head out onto the deck outside your bedroom. there’s already a pack of your favorite cigarettes next to your lounger, on a little glass table alongside an empty pack, an overflowing ashtray, and a zippo lighter. you fall back into the chair, not even flinching as you bump your elbow on the arm of the chair as you grab for the lighter to spark up the joint. 

“yeah,” you say quietly, to the late night air “yeah, no wonder.” 

taking a hit off the joint, you hit play on a random playlist on your phone and stare at your contacts list. you could call him. dirk, not donny. you scroll past the others names too, but you know it’s no use trying them. you have before. none of them go through. the calls are just signals reaching out to a dead universe.

they wouldn’t want to talk to you, anyway. not after what you’ve turned into.

you try not to think of their faces too often. it hurts too much. you don’t keep many pictures on your phone these days. one of everyone, together after everything for a brief and shining moment, in a hidden folder under a password. in your main camera roll, there’s a single photo of you and dirk. you’d taken it the last time you saw him, because you knew by then you were going to leave. 

it took a few months to find him. when you’d landed back on earth after you won the game, you were alone in the wilderness of upstate new york. you’d called everyone, once, twice, a hundred times. you called them over and over until your phone battery died, and you were alone on the outskirts of some small town. after a lot of searching and wandering, you find each other. you and dirk, not the others. and things were okay for a few months. you were still sober. you were with your best friend. but living in the normal world chafed at your skin, like your shirts tended to chafe at the scars on your stomach, and one day laying on the sofa, watching dirk play some video game, you decide to leave. 

in the picture, your head rests on his shoulder while he tries to hide from the camera. there’s a table in front of you both, covered in taco bell. your lips are curled into a smile, but your eyes look as dead as they do now. 

you take another hit from the joint and another song starts playing from your phone’s small speakers. 

and on my way home

i fell asleep

i started to dream

you were here with me

you can feel the blood clotting up on your tattoo. on dirk’s initials, carved into your leg with shaky black ink. you should get up, go wash it off, so it doesn’t get infected. but does it matter?

who cares if your tattoo gets infected? even if it did, it’s not like it could kill you. you don’t think, anyway. 

you’ve never been sure how exactly your immortality was meant to work, you just knew that it laid heavy on your bones like a curse, leaving you alone and miserable, unable to escape, until the heat death of the universe. maybe even longer. after all, was the end of the world a just or heroic death? was freezing to death in space? would you not die if you floated out to space, or would you die over and over again? would the cycle eventually let you go, let you stay dead?

would it let you stay dead if you wanted to die?

as i slowly drove my car

into the sea 

you were here with me

you were here with me

you start crying, but you don’t notice. the fall chill is properly setting in now that it’s october, and your face is too cold for you to notice the tears. you just take another hit and watch the smoke swirl and turn. ashes fall from the joint and land on your thigh, peppered with other similar burns and scars. you haven’t been very careful the past few months. you don’t bother to brush away the smoldering ash from your skin. 

and on our way down

you said to me

how could we find

this angry sea?

cuz if we gasp for air

our lungs will fill and tear

inhaling the last of the joint, you stub it out, and light a cigarette instead. after a long drag, you take a drink from your vodka bottle, and the burn rolling down your throat warms your skin, just the slightest bit. you can feel yourself growing tired, too tired to stay awake. this is the only way you can make yourself sleep. if you aren’t blitzed out of your goddamn mind, you spend your nights hiding in the bathtub, sobbing and feeling like the dark around you is watching, waiting for you to slip up. 

so you drink. you get stoned. you swallow a handful of pills now and again. 

would you die with me?

you fuck up until you pass out. 

would you die for me?

and maybe one of these mornings, you finally won’t wake up. 

[lightsandlostbells]

Skam España episode 4 reaction

This is way overdue, but I want to catch up on reactions to this show, because as we know, they’re making some big changes to the S1 storyline, which is exciting in Skam remake land!

I’m caught up on Skam España and I know that some of these comments are outdated now, but I’m leaving them the way they were for the most part.

Anyway, the MVP of this episode was indisputably the carrot cake.

Episode 4

Clip 1 - Eva’s mom knows shit is up

Eva eats with her mom. She’s looking at her text messages, where she texted her bare legs and said “I wish you were here,” which was before the argument. Risky move breaking that out at the dinner table, Eva! 

Eva’s mom asks her about her weekend. Eva says she did nothing, but Eva’s mom notes that someone was there at the house. Eva has a subtle OH SHIT moment, does her mom know about Jorge?? But it turns out it was because of the leftovers.

Eva’s mom wants to know if it was Inés, or Alicia, but Eva says it was someone new, and Eva’s mom starts asking her about her new friend. Eva name drops Nora. She’s from Wisconsin! That explains why the leftovers were just a heaping pile of cheese curds.

Eva’s mom says Eva can invite her new friend, or Inés and Alicia, over whenever she wants. She just wants to ask Nora about her fascinating culture, like why the fuck are so many serial killers from Wisconsin?

Eva tries a few versions of a text to Jorge but sends none of them. Sometimes there is no emoji to convey how sorry you are.

Clip 2 - Nora knows shit is up

Viri tells the girls that she totally doesn’t give a shit about Alejandro. Also, his name sucks. His name is Alejandro, what a loser! This is a completely rational and convincing line of thought.

The girls are like, are you SURE you’re over him? Viri is like, TOTES! And Amira is like, well good, because he’s coming.

Viri is like, I’m not looking! And to her credit … she doesn’t look at him! The other girls all stare at him, and then look awkwardly away when he notices, but Viri does NOT look back at him. Good girl. The other girls are very proud of her. They didn’t think she had it in her.

Eva is distracted by her phone again, and as the other girls run off to the cafeteria, Nora hangs back. Already taking care of her girl!

Clip 3 - Eva and Lucas in class

Eva and Lucas are in class together, ostensibly supposed to be working with a microscope. Eva is more like, check out this incredibly awkward text conversation I’m having with my boyfriend!

Lucas is like goddamn you two are ridiculous. He advises her to talk to Jorge face to face. WHICH IS PERFECTLY REASONABLE ADVICE.

I wonder if the microscope lecture has anything to do with “observation” and Eva putting her boyfriend and Inés under a microscope for inspection. (I mean ... yeah. It does.)

Eva says Jorge has to apologize first, Lucas is like, ummm, you looked through his phone? Again, HE’S NOT WRONG. Both Eva and Jorge fucked up.

She justifies herself by saying his phone was right there and she didn’t even have to unlock it, which, I have to say, is the kind of excuse I’d make if I were trying to weasel my way out of this situation. But Lucas points out that she then asked to see Jorge’s text conversations. Definitely not a “I didn’t even have to unlock it” scenario. So Eva (or Jorge) must have told him, in detail, what happened.

Eva’s all, ugh, why did I even tell you, you’re going to take Jorge’s side because he’s your best friend. Lucas is like, I calls it as I sees it. He tells Jorge when he messes up so he’ll tell Eva when she messes up. Eva asks when Jorge has messed up, digging for dirt, but Lucas doesn’t bite. (EDIT from the future: I don’t want to do to many of these, but looking at this from a few episodes down the line, I can see that Eva really doesn’t get how much Lucas is her friend, not just Jorge’s.)

Lucas is being completely reasonable with her? Seemingly not duplicitous at all like Isak. He has given her completely solid, sensible advice. So on the one hand, good for him! On the other, what’s his role in the reason going to be? Is he going to get tired of Eva bugging him and complaining about Jorge and just snap at her to go talk to Inés? Is he not going to be the snake? 

Clip 4 - I want carrot cake now so thanks for that

Eva and Lucas meet up in a cafe, where they order carrot cake in sync, as planned. They’re clearly friends outside of Jorge, man! 

Lucas has apparently tricked both Eva and Jorge into showing up so they can talk out their issues. Snake Lucas in action!

Although lmao, what if this is the snakiest Lucas gets? “I put you two in the same room so you can talk about your issues?” Like is he hoping they implode, or is this a genuine attempt to help their relationship because he cares about them and wants them to get back together? 

Lucas leaves. Jorge sits down and it’s awkward, they just sit in silence. Jorge is clearly pissed.

Eva is like, well, if it’s gonna be like this, might as well have cake. This silence goes on for a while before Jorge also picks up a spoon and goes for the cake. Eva has completely the right idea by knocking Jorge’s spoon away whenever he tries to take a bite. That’s right. Get your own cake, bro. (I love that he looks genuinely stunned by her territorial stance on the cake.)

However, the mood lightens, and we pull back outside the cafe and watch them as they start fighting playfully over the cake, culminating in Eva getting some frosting on Jorge’s nose, and them kissing over the table.

This is one of my favorite scenes thus far! It shows them making up after their fight, but it feels like more like a temporary truce than an end to the war. Like this is very cute, but it’s them melting without actually talking about their issues, as far as we could tell. And that sets us up for Eva being ready to believe Jorge is cheating on her again, because they haven’t scratched their real issues, they haven’t come clean with each other (or Jorge hasn’t).

“This hell feels better with you.” Doesn’t that feel right? They’ve still got issues but it’s better with each other.

Clip 5 - Amira knows shit is up

Well, Viri looks miserable. Nora is like, “It’s (mouths) Alejandro” but Viri vehemently denies this. I wonder why she felt like shit all of a sudden? I mean, we figured she wasn’t truly over him, but why this relapse all of a sudden?

Eva suggests Viri get together with one of Jorge’s friends, mentioning they’re desperate, and Viri does not take kindly to the suggestion of getting together with the leftovers/virgins. Lmao, girl, if you follow Vilde’s trajectory, you’re going to be exploring your cat fetish with one of them in a few seasons.

Cris is also like “don’t aim for a 12 when you’re a 6.5,” meaning Alejandro is out of Viri’s league, and Viri’s like, YOU’RE the 6.5. And I mean … Cris was kind of asking for that, lmao. If Viri feels like shit being told to go for the leftovers, it’s not actually fun to hear that you shouldn’t go for a guy who is much better than you. Cris seems unbothered, anyway. Nora tells the girls they’re not numbers, which is right! 

Eva sees Amira walk in with Inés. SHIT. And they’re looking toward Eva. SHIT.

 Amira gives an innocuous reason why she and Inés were talking. But Amira also says that Eva can confide in her if she has a problem with Inés. Amira is so great.

Eva is all HA, nothing’s wrong! Amira believes that like she believes Viri is over Alejandro, but lets it drop.

These clips are really short, they need more room to breathe.

Clip 6 - TRUTH OR DARE

Botellón time! Is that a tunnel they’re partying in?

Looks like the girls AND the guys are together, Jorge is there with his crew. Cris asks Viri which she likes out of Jorge’s friends. Viri is emphatically into none of them. I’m going to laugh if she does end up hooking up with one of them as the Magnus.

Amira’s prayer app goes off. The girls are incredulous that she is going to pray right there and then. Interestingly, the ignorance is not confined to Viri; Eva is like nah, she’s not going to pray right here. And then suggests Amira might feel better praying in a private place.

Amira takes a beat to be like, damn, these white girls, then says she prayed before coming but forgot to turn off the alarm. The girls look relieved, like they were embarrassed or uncomfortable if Amira was going to pray right there. Wow. I’m glad they’re not putting all the Islamophobia on Viri since the other girls are capable of casual examples of it. 

Especially because Amira didn’t really stand up for herself there, she actually played it off. Which is more insecure and unexpected.

Cris is even like “That was scary.” Yikes, Cris!

I suspect that moment was Hajar’s input, that maybe this is a situation she has been in.

Jorge and his crew come over. The girls try to get Viri to pay attention to the boys, but she is engrossed in her phone. Whoever could it be????

By the way, just wanted to say that I LOVE combined girl squad and boy squad interaction this early in the series.

Lucas comes over with some ice as Eva and Jorge start to kiss. His face falls. Going back to the carrot cake scene, was he hoping it’d implode right there, or was he genuinely trying to be a good dude and help them work out their issues? And being a good friend also means getting his heart broken in moments like this? 

What’s also interesting is that Nora looks at Lucas, and he realizes she’s looking and smiles at her. Intriguing! Did Nora realize Lucas seemed sad watching Eva and Jorge kiss? Is she going to figure out why that might be? Or assume he wants Eva?

Cris suggests truth or dare. Everyone is into it. Cris goes first, and picks dare. Of course, she seems like a “dare” type of girl. Eva dares her to make out with the person she likes best from the circle. Cris chooses Jorge’s friend Hugo and makes out with him. I almost wanted her to choose Lucas just because imagine a Cris/Chris in one of the Skam universes actually getting to make out with an Isak? But obviously I do not want Lucas to be uncomfortable or sad and forced into heterosexual situations. (But that would have been some dramaaa, wouldn’t it?)

I find those dorky dudes so cute, they’re so hyped about Hugo getting to make out with her!

Fun game, right? Then Eva picks truth (girl, you should have seen this shit coming), Amira asks her what’s her beef with Inés. AMIRA. Come on. If Eva is that uncomfortable talking about it, as you suspect she is, don’t ask her about it in front of like 10 people! I guess the sacred laws of truth or dare compelled her to get some answers.

Lucas actually says Eva can change her mind about truth, which is sweet of him. He knows the real reason and is trying to protect her. Again, Lucas is YOUR friend, Eva.

Eva tells a half-truth: she and Inés used to be inseparable best friends, now Inés is mad at her. Because once Inés got too drunk and smoked and got sick, passed out, and Eva called Inés’ parents, and they grounded Inés and are more controlling with her.

Now is there any truth to that story? Like maybe it was a fight they’d had previously? Because Eva seems pretty bold and confident about that story, not like it’s a total lie she made up on the spot.

The girls are like, well, that’s dumb of Inés to hate you for that. Jorge is kind of side-eyeing Eva. He’s been quiet during Eva’s turn.

While the girls are talking, Viri gets a text that makes her smile. HMMM. WHO COULD IT BE. (alejandro, alejandroooo)

Viri goes next, goes for truth, in a remarkably better mood. Lucas asks if it’s true she made out with a 2nd year. This is old news to the girls, but Viri is takes the moment to announce Alejandro texted her, and that puts Nora on alert. Viri says he wants to meet up. The girls are like, but he ignored you? He’s mean to you? Viri ignores their warnings. I bet Alejandro ignored her on purpose, then contacted her again to stoke her interest.

Eva and Jorge are being super awkward after Eva’s turn.

This clip needed to be so much longer!!! More truth or dare shenanigans, pleeeease. (lmao, we TOTALLY needed a Lucas truth or dare where it ended up being a ~hint)

Clip 7 - Eva knows shit is up (it’s her stomach)

Eva and Jorge walk home silently. There’s a nice little moment where he grabs her elbow as a car passes.

She says she didn’t lie during the game, so I guess that story was something that happened even if it wasn’t THE reason Inés hates her.

Eva starts to feel sick. Jorge rubs her back as it seems like she might puke. Somehow I think her feeling sick has nothing to do with how much she might have had to drink tonight.

We get a shot of Eva and Jorge holding hands and then pulling away, I can’t tell for sure who pulls away first but I think it’s Eva. I guess they might be pulling away because they’re at Eva’s place now? Although lol, if Eva’s mom were to see them together, she could probably draw conclusions whether they were holding hands or not. So I like the more symbolic representation. Trying to be together, always pulling apart.

Eva is really sad. Jorge says they’ll talk tomorrow. This was a good scene, with their quiet, nearly wordless interaction.

Eva spits up a little after Jorge leaves.

Wait, she barfs even more.

She held it in until Jorge left, much like she held in her feelings! Trying to act like she’s more okay than she is!

Social Media

Eva and Jorge have a very terse, cold text conversation after the argument in the last episode. Things don’t improve until carrot cake happens.

By the way, that carrot cake was a BIG FUCKING DEAL. Lucas tempted Eva with it, Eva posted pre-carrot cake excitement, there were cute pics of her and Jorge with cake smeared on their faces. I’m really distraught, because carrot cake is one of those things I don’t eat very often (I like it fine but it’s not my favorite dessert or anything) but now all I can think of is getting my hands on some carrot cake? Was this episode sponsored by Big Carrot?

Also, carrot cake belongs to Eva and Jorge now. There’s a text about how it will be their thing when they fight, but also they’re never fighting again, so it’s not! And it’s very cute and you just want to be like lololol, children, cake doesn’t solve relationship dysfunction and you are absolutely going to fight again. But I mean, this is me being jaded. Let them enjoy their youthful idealism. (They did not talk about Inés at all, notably. They were fighting and then decided to just stop being mad.)

Boy Cris posts such weirdly artsy selfies on IG?

There’s a cute moment in the texts where Amira says the Muslim woman emoji doesn’t raise her hand, and then includes a pic of herself demonstrating. Get that girl her emoji!

Here’s an interesting theory that maybe Amira was more of a partier/drinker in the past, based on a text message. That would be a big new direction to take the Sana character, especially as we know Amira is new to wearing hijab? Like if she has recently made some major life changes due to her religion, it could be very rich for her characterization, especially in her own season.

Lucas posted a picture/meme of himself watching Eva and Jorge be lovey together and referring him to a third wheel (a “candleholder” in Spanish, heh). So he’s posting that publicly and passing it off as a joke, obviously. But does he feel that way because he’s gay and not being able to openly have a relationship like Eva and Jorge can? Or a reference to his jealousy over liking Jorge? Both? This isn’t the first time he’s made a some kind of reference to their awkward trio status (the underwater pic where Eva is largely cut out because they can’t get the three of them in one photo).

On Instagram, Nora is disgusted by Kavanaugh’s appointment to the US Supreme Court. I feel you, girl. This fucking trash pile of an administration. I like that they had her post about it, not just because it fits with her feminist ideals, but because she’s from Wisconsin and this surely affects her personally - I don’t think we know what brought her family to Spain or how long they plan on staying, right? If this is permanent or temporary? But at the very least, we know she has family back in the U.S.

Eva super loves pizza. Pizza is bae. I hope she can take comfort in pizza once things go south with Jorge. Okay, maybe that’s not the best solution.

Feel free to correct me or clarify any cultural or language context!

If you got this far, thank you for reading!

[quarra]

Ficlet Challenge Prompt

Yo. Tagging these folks because IT CONTINUES: @kat-atomic @tinybearswithjetpacks , @brooklynbetty, @mariastill    plus @colorcoated01  because they seemed interested. Also, I credit @needmorefiction  with Steve’s opinions on pants.

So, I dug up a little more time, and here is Part Two of the Sloth Prompt. This has even more crack and more pining. Also, a great deal of swearing. Poor, poor Bucky. It’s a little long, so again, it’s under the line.

After all, how bad could it be?

Turns out, pretty fucking bad.

It had only been three days and already Bucky was contemplating a life of intrigue as an internationally wanted fugitive and assassin. Because anything was starting to look good compared to dealing with Steve’s fucking lazy ass.

“Buuuuuuuuuck, the TV remote is really far away!” Steve yelled from the living room.

Bucky paused in picking up yet another pile of wrappers from the hallway to bang his head against the wall. Not too hard, because if he broke through the drywall and had to clean up after that too he really might actually shoot himself.

“What’s your fucking point, Steve?” he yelled back.

“Help!”

Steven Grant Fucking Rogers, folks. Mr. I Don’t Need Help With Anything. Mr. I Can Storm The Base All By Myself. Mr. I Can Making It On My Fucking Own.

But he needed help getting the TV remote. Because it was too far away.

Fuck the bullet to himself, Bucky was going to fucking shoot Steve.

Just as he was pulling a knife and trying to convince himself that he wouldn’t really do any damage to Steve, he’d just scare him a little, Jarvis interrupted.

“Sgt. Barnes, Mr. Wilson is on his way up. He said he’s bringing dinner.”

“Thank god,” Bucky said quietly.

Whatever twisted gnarl of mistrust and frustration he once had with Sam, it had all melted away under the stress of the past few days. The man was a damn saint, and Bucky was ready to fucking kiss him in relief every time he showed up. At this point, Bucky didn’t even care if it was only for Steve’s well being, because the sad remnants of Bucky’s sanity and temper had long since frayed away under the sheer weight of Steve’s laziness.

It didn’t seem that bad at first. So Steve would lie around. Big deal. The guy needed a break. But it turns out, Steve was willing to get up just long enough to make the largest mess possible, and then he’d collapse back into the couch or his bed.

The more charitable, patient side of Bucky thought that this might be Steve fighting off the effects of the spell. He’d muster up enough motivation to get some food, or something to drink, or another blanket. Then the spell would push back with force, and crush his will once again. But it never lasted for more than an hour and then Steve would be up wandering around again, dragging ass all over their floor.

The part of Bucky that had to deal with Steve licking whip cream off of the arm of the couch just because he was too tired to get a plate and didn’t want to get his hands covered in whip cream, that part was ready to fucking murder something.

Not to mention that stumbling across that scene had done Bucky no favors. He had been frozen solid watching Steve lick slowly at the mound of white fluff for a solid five minutes before he realized what the fuck was happening.

Luckily, rage and irritation did wonders for repressing his libido.

“Hey there, Steve,” Sam called from the other room. “How’s it goooOH MY GOD, really Steve? Really?”

Bucky took a deep breath and tried not to grind his teeth. Sam must have just walked in and seen the other thing that was driving Bucky to distraction. He steeled himself, grabbed the bag of trash he’d been collecting, and made his way into the living room.

Sam was standing with his jaw dropped and eyes wide, taking in all of Steve’s gloriously naked form on the couch.

“What?” Steve asked innocently.

Deep breaths, Bucky thought to himself. He closed his eyes for a moment and tried to not think about killing Sam for taking a good long look. Then he had to remember not to take a good long look himself.

“I know you two are close friends and all, and maybe things were different back in the 40’s, but dude. Pants. Please put on some pants. Or a blanket.” By this time Sam was studiously looking at the TV, take out bags held in front of him like a ward.

“I keep trying,” Bucky said with a sigh. He walked around the couch and dragged the couch throw blanket back over Steve’s lap, confident that Steve would be too lazy to move it for at least the next fifteen minutes.

“Pants are a tool of the oppressor, Sam.” Steve looked perfectly serious. Anyone else might have been fooled, but Bucky had known Steve since he was a sneaky little bastard with light fingers. He could smell a rat.

“You’re not serious,” Sam said flatly. “Are you? I mean, yeah, clothing kinda is a way people have kept up class divides, but---”

“He’s fucking with you.” Bucky grabbed a wet wipe from the stack of them on the end table and proceeded to attempt to get the latest collection of food debris off of Steve’s mouth.

“Hey! Buck. Bucky! Stop! Buck--- I mean it!” Despite all of the protests, Steve only put up a token resistance.

“Like a fucking child, I swear to god,” Bucky grumbled as he walked off, grabbing the take out bags from Sam and setting up them at the table. “If you could wipe your own damn face you would, so until then I will whether you like it or not.” That last was said at a yell. He pointedly didn’t look at Sam, sure in the knowledge that he was probably laughing at them.

Deep breaths. This isn’t Steve’s fault. It’s the spell.

“Seriously though, Steve. Really?”

“There was this thing on youtube. Looked kinda cool, so I kept watching. And did you know that youtube has an auto play option? You just…click something and then it’ll just keep going! You don’t even have to touch anything!”

This was how Bucky had found Steve at four am last night, watching endless rounds of cat videos. That was still better than the night before, when Steve had gotten up in the middle of the night and started watching a news comedy skit. Apparently that led to five hours of news parodies.

One would think that being afflicted with Sloth meant that Steve would be sleeping the whole night through. Seems that all it really meant was that he slept on and off throughout the day, only to be restless at night. He always waited for Bucky to be asleep before he wandered off.

The first few times he did this, Bucky ignored him. Steve wouldn’t go far, probably couldn’t go far, and Bucky had needed the rest after cleaning endlessly all day. But the five hour news stint had gotten Steve so upset that now when he got up at night, Bucky got up with him. Losing a little sleep was definitely better than seeing Steve get all bent out of shape over injustice, but unable to do anything about it.

Bucky finished setting the table. He made sure to leave out a lot of extra napkins.

“Dinner time, Steve. Get your ass up if you can and get over here so we can eat.”

“Why even bother, dude?” Sam asked. “Is it really worth the effort to get him to the table?”

“YES! You tell him, Sam!” Steve said excitedly from the couch. His momentum carried him just far enough to raise a fist in celebration, but then he sank back down into the cushions.

“Have you seen him fucking eat?! I can at least put a goddamn drop cloth under the table and I am not cleaning up more sauce from the couch cushions. Especially since SOMEONE won’t move off of them for me while I’m cleaning it up! Like a fucking zoo in here, swear to god.” Bucky rubbed his hand over his eyes and debated about seeing if Stark had some super soldier aspirin somewhere.

Both Steve and Sam started chuckling, though Bucky’s glare cowed Sam into silence.

After a moment, Steve’s laughter dropped off too. A few seconds of uncomfortable silence passed and then Steve asked, almost timidly. “Um…Bucky? Could you, uh. Help me to the table?” Bucky could see him grab his hair in frustration and he growled a bit. “I’m sorry. I really am. It’s just. I’m really fucking tired.”

All the anger and frustration melted away and Bucky dropped his head to stare at the floor. His heart bled a little. None of this was Steve’s fault. He couldn’t help it. Wouldn’t put Bucky through all this if he had a choice.

“Sure, pal. Anything you need.”

He went over and helped Steve up to standing, pulling an arm over his shoulder and tucking in the blanket around his waist. Steve sighed miserably. “I’m sorry, Buck. I hate this. I’m such a miserable piece of---”

“Hey,” Bucky interrupted. “None of that. This is just a bit of a rough spell. You’ll be right as rain soon enough. Now come on. Let’s get some dinner.”

Steve hung his head and nodded, and they made their way over to the table. Before they could sit down though, Steve tugged at Bucky’s shirt.

“I. Um. Could you.” He winced and heaved a big sigh.

Understanding dawned on Bucky. “Need to hit the restroom?” Steve nodded. “No problem. Let’s go do that now. But seriously, Rogers, I ain’t holding your dick for you. That’s on you.”

Steve looked up at Bucky, a sly smile on his face. “You sure, Bucky? I’d let you hold my dick any day.”

Bucky almost fucking dropped him on the ground.

What the hell.

“Wait, what?” His whole brain crashed and burned under that statement.

Sam snorted next to them. “Seriously, Steve? That’s how you wanna come out to your best friend? With that line?”

Bucky floundered, jaw agape.

“Eh. Seemed like a lot of work to keep it under wraps, you know? Lot easier just to say something.” Steve shrugged.

There were words Bucky wanted to say. Somewhere. But nothing came out. He couldn’t even fucking breath. What the fuck just happened?

“Dude. Are you actually telling me that you’re too lazy to pine?” Sam looked both appalled and impressed.

Steve just shrugged again, and then looked at Bucky. “Well?” It was said casually, but Bucky could hear the thread of fear in the statement. Could see the anxiety that couldn’t quite twist up Steve’s frame, despite its best efforts.

Bucky panicked.

He shoved Steve at Sam and was down the hall and out of the apartment in seconds. The last thing he heard before the door shut behind him was Steve say, “Well, fuck. He left before I could use the bathroom, too.”

--

To be continued...