wesawbears

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sorry to anyone who followed me for anything, ever. you are not getting that.

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first date!!!!!

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** Permission to post it was granted by the artist Do not repost/edit the art without permission Please, support the artist on their page too **

Artist : @geedraws

Source

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sleep

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happy 4 years to this tweet specifically <3

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18,41, 112 all for tfc, but I’ve debated hard not to just send you like 2/3 of the whole list

Finally, here’s 112! This one is for jerejean. Enjoy!

–

Jeremy was at his wit’s end. He always descended into baking chaos during finals (a benefit of having a kitchen in the sports dorms),  but this particular batch of cookies was just not behaving the way he wanted them to. He had been preoccupied by all the end of the year stress and must have overmixed the batter, so the cookies had spread out into one deformed mega cookie.

He was just pulling it out of the oven and deciding how to salvage the concoction when a deep voice rang out from behind him. “Are they supposed to look like that?”

He turned and saw Jean leaning against the door jamb. He had that serious, intense look that was his signature, but Jeremy knew him well enough after a year to see the twinkle of amusement in his eye.

Jeremy straightened up and looked indignantly at Jean. “Yes. Yes they are.”

Jean’s lips curled into a faint smile as he pushed off the door. “Are you sure?” he said, making his way over to look closer at the cookies.

Jeremy rubbed the back of his neck. “I may have, uh, overmixed.”

Jean nodded and picked an edge off to pop it in his mouth before Jeremy could protest. “Still tastes good.”

“Aren’t you going to lecture me about carbs and unrefined sugars?”

Jean rolled his eyes. “I’m not Kevin. I know finals week is fair game. Besides, it’s not as though you’ve ever listened to me.”

Jeremy smiled. “Learning to pick your battles at last? Careful Jean. Someone might accuse you of going soft.”

Surprisingly, Jean chuckled. “I think that ship has sailed.”

“It was the cookies, wasn’t it?” Jeremy teased.

Jean gave him a dry look. “Yes. It was definitely the cookies. Nations would fall for those cookies.”

“Are you comparing me to Helen of Troy?”

“A trojan joke. Clever.”

Jeremy smiled. “I’ve had a lot of time to practice them.”

Jean nodded and Jeremy turned back to the cookies, only to freeze when Jean continues, “It is an apt metaphor though.”

“Oh?” he answered, struggling to keep his voice even, “Are you saying I have a face that can topple empires?”

Jean chuckled. “You inspire people, not with fear, but with your presence. I respect that and…I appreciate everything you’ve done for me this year. Even if I made it difficult for you.”

Jeremy felt his throat tighten up a bit, but he refused to cry. “That means a lot, Jean. Thank you. And you didn’t make my life any more difficult than anyone else here. This team is a handful.”

Jean chuckled. “You’ve done it a lot of good. Things won’t be the same without you.”

“Well, you know,” Jeremy started, “You are always welcome at my new place.”

Jean smirked and took another piece of cookie. “How can you be sure I won’t just use you for desserts?”

Jeremy swatted at him absently with a towel. “Oh, go be useful and get Alvarez.”

Jean laughed and turned to leave, but before he did, he added, “Your face is an added benefit as well.”

Yep. Jeremy was in way over his head.

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One struggle 🫡

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Interview with the Vampire 2.01 · What Can the Damned Really Say to the Damned

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like me! (one day)

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35 Questions for Fanfiction Writers! ✨

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Me writing something? I’m as shocked as you. But this is for the anon who asked for #41 back in November, if you’re still around. Enjoy!

–

Andrew shifted in bed for what felt like the thousandth time that night. He adamantly refused to acknowledge the voice that told him it had anything to do with the absence of Neil by his side. He had gotten used to Neil’s weight next to him in his last year at Palmetto, more used to it than he had ever thought possible.

Then again, Neil had been surprising him since the day they met, pushing and pulling at Andrew until they both stumbled into…this. Andrew still didn’t know what to name it. Everything felt wrong, trivial, too much and not enough. So he tried not to worry about it.

He wasn’t suffering from a lack of distractions. Now that he was on a professional team and living in his own apartment, he had plenty to focus on. But when he was alone at night, it felt too big, too empty, which was an irony for someone who had spent so much of his life wanting desperately to be left alone. But Andrew was nothing if not excellent at ignoring less than pleasant feelings, so he keeps busy and doesn’t think about the extra space in his bed.

Turning over once again, he’s actually close to falling asleep when he hears his phone ring. He’s committed to ignoring it, until he sees Neil’s name and feels the traitor thump of his heart.

“Neil?” he asks, because it’s far more likely to assume Neil was kidnapped and this is a ransom call than believe Neil picked his phone up at called at 2 AM by his own free will. Neil may have wedged his way into Andrew’s life with no sign of moving, but he was still utterly impossible.

“It’s me,” Neil says, too quiet and subdued for Andrew’s comfort.

“Where are you?”

“In my dorm.” He sighs. “I had a nightmare and I had to make sure you were okay.”

A beat of silence passes before Andrew decides on sincerity and says, “I’m okay.” Once he hears Neil’s relieved sigh, he can’t resist pushing a bit. “I’m in your nightmares, junkie?”

Neil groans. “Drew, don’t…”

“I’m just asking.”

Neil’s quiet for another minute before saying, “It was my dad. I was in Baltimore, all over again, but you were there and I couldn’t stop him.”

Andrew’s fingers itch to be able to wrap themselves at the nape of Neil’s neck, or to dig into his har, anything to ground him and get him out of that headspace. Since he can’t do that, he keeps his voice level and says, “Neil. Your father is dead. He cannot hurt you anymore.”

“You know that’s not true.”

Andrew thinks of his nightmares, worse without Neil, of being paralyzed with fear. “No. But you can prove him wrong.”

Neil laughs, surprisingly enough. “You suck at comforting people.”

Andrew narrowly resists the urge to roll his eyes. “You didn’t call for comfort if you called me.”

“I missed you.”

Andrew looks over at the empty space and the extra pillow where Neil’s head should be. “I missed you too.”

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my latest litmus test for productions and adaptations of hamlet is whether the creator(s) make any thoughtful choices about gertrude at all. they don’t have to do a completely radical against-the-grain gertrude; they just have to do Something. everybody has thoughts and feelings about ophelia, but do you have thoughts and feelings about a woman who’s older and more opaque and ambiguous, who has more power in the play and who doesn’t necessarily look virginal and beautiful, a woman who isn’t so innocent? have you thought at all about what she knows, when she knows it, how she feels about it? when did she know about king hamlet’s murder? does she love claudius? does she drink the poisoned wine on purpose? or does she simply stand there, woman-shaped, and say words

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hate when I see the comment "big news for unemployed people" on internet drama. really discounting the dedication of us chronically online employed people. does my 15 minutes in a public restroom at work scrolling online mean nothing to you...

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Midsummer Night’s Dream

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(kofi request) brothers who (try to) carry each other

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jean and cat “who the fuck is burning down my kitchen?”

vs

jeremy and laila “making breakfast for my beautiful wife 😍”