#GOD I STILL CAN'T BELIEVE IT'S REAL

[stormyoceans]

IT'S LAST TWILIGHT DAY!!!!!!!!!!

THE WAIT IS OFFICIALLY OVER!!!!!!!!! AFTER 11 MONTHS AND 2 WEEKS IT'S FINALLY HERE!!!!!!!!!!

[stephsageek]

[almea]

[epavirees]

happy anniversary joker out olympia you will always be famous

[end0r4]

ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?

[rottiens]

The other day you posted about shy boys and I have some thoughts about shy boy Choso if you don't mind. Also, this ended up being longer than intended, sorry 😬

Imagine, if you will, sitting on the couch in your jammies with your bestie Choso, your bestie that you know has a thing for you but won't make a move no matter how many hints you drop that you like him too, your bestie who blushes and changes the subject whenever you talk about sex/dating and the like, he's sitting between your legs laying back against you. You have your feet on the edge of the couch with your knees up beside him and he's resting his arms on your legs.

Imagine making him lift up his head so you can take out his hair buns to run your fingers through his hair and graze his scalp with your nails causing his head to fall back against your shoulder humming at the feeling.

Imagine snaking one hand over his shoulder and resting it on his abs and rubbing your thumb back and forth feeling the definition of his muscles through his shirt. "Just getting comfy," you say when he asks what you're doing.

Imagine the small whine that comes from him when you remove your other hand from his hair. His breath catches in his throat though when your hand comes to rest near his waistband. "Just keeping warm," you whisper in his ear when he asks what you're doing for a second time this time in a slightly higher pitch.

Imagine seeing the blush creep up his ears when you start mindlessly fiddling with the drawstring of his pants. It's not your fault it came undone, the knot wasn't done very tight in the first place.

Imagine his breath stopping completely and his hands starting to grip your legs when your finger tips slip under his waistband, not moving just sitting there.

Imagine seeing the tent in his pants steadily grow as you start to scratch gently at the skin just above his cock.

Imagine him squeezing his eyes shut and shaking his head no when you breathe "tell me to stop," against the shell of his ear.

Imagine finally grabbing his cock and having to remind him to breathe because his fingers are leaving marks on your shins.

Imagine the mewls that you pull out of him as you stroke him so slow that he has trouble keeping his hips still.

Imagine having to shush him when you speed up, he's louder than the movie you two were watching.

Imagine giving Choso a reach around and playing with his hair again while telling him how good he's being for you.

Imagine Choso coming in your hand and you bring it to his mouth for him to lick clean.

Imagine, if you will, shy boy Choso panting and rubbing your legs up and down to try and calm himself down after the most erotic experience of his life. He's been so good for you, you should get him a glass of water and a snack when his breathing evens out so he can replenish.

[taffy-glitch]

rewatching fantasy high (freshman year) and tbh i don't think i appreciated kristen applebees enough as a character when i originally watched it years ago. like i kinda get the feeling that her arc was meant to be more drawn out but got speedrun by her literally dying and meeting god in the first two episodes and getting SLAMMED into that crisis of faith head-first, and it honestly makes her into both a VERY FUN character to watch and a fascinating one

[vasattope]

Happy Lu Guang caressing Cheng Xiaoshi's tears away day

[astrobei]

prompt from @strangeswift: "literally anything madwheeler. them bonding, them in the future being besties, them arguing... whatever you want. just them."

It might only be her first week of high school, but Max is already so over it. 

It meaning everything. The cramped desks, the giant textbooks, the smell of the locker rooms after third period gym. The way that there had been some plausible deniability, in middle school, about the inherent repulsiveness of teenage boys– and now any minute trace of that is gone, because holy fucking shit, it’s like all of a sudden, deodorant has just totally ceased to exist.

Which isn’t great for someone like Max, by the way, who stands a glorious five-foot-three– also known as the perfect armpit height for the average pubescent boy.

Yeah. She’s so over it.

If walking the hallways hadn’t been abhorrent enough because of this and this alone– which it is, mind you, it’s plenty bad enough– there’s everything else. Everything else meaning the looks. The stares and the glances and the whispers following her as she walks from first period English to second period Geometry, trying her hardest to not get violently lost in the hallways like a total freshman. It’s embarrassing enough being a freshman, right, because you don’t know where your classes are and you have to run to the cafeteria to get a good seat and you’re not completely jaded yet, so people can one hundred percent tell that you’re new.

Max is used to being the new girl. She’s used to holding her head high and marching down the hall like she knows the school like the back of her hand, when in reality, she’d never stepped foot in it before that morning. So the being a freshman thing is a certain kind of clumsy spotlight that she doesn’t mind.

What she does mind, however, is the dead brother thing.

Stepbrother, technically. As if that makes it any better, the way that her mom won’t look at her and suddenly there’s beer in the fridge where her mom never used to keep any before. If that makes the pitying glances and whispers as she passes by any better. As if that takes away from any of it.

She knows what the girls, especially, are thinking. So few casualties at Starcourt, and Billy Hargrove– the cool new boy from California, the one with the cool car and the charm and the hair and the lifeguard job at the pool– Billy Hargrove had to be the one to die.

Max supposes she can’t really blame them either. It’s easy to get caught up in someone from afar. Easy enough to get too caught up on the ridiculous amounts of body oil and the gross open front shirts and the hair they spend hours on every day to really see the small stuff.

Like how they’re an asshole, maybe. An asshole who caked the whole house up with the stench of cigarette smoke and stale beers and sweat. An asshole who liked to push people down to lift himself up. An asshole who bullied little kids just to make himself big again, who–

The girls didn’t see any of that, of course. Max is happy for them, despite the glares and the whispers and the pity. No one deserves to see that. Let them remember Billy as a hero. The king of Hawkins High.

Don't speak ill of the dead, et cetera. It's fine. This is a secret she can shoulder on her own.

Max swings the locker door open, shoving her Geometry textbook into her bag with a soft grunt. Another reason to hate high school– or maybe love it– is that she’s going to get so scary jacked by the end of the year.

“You’re not going to tryouts today?”

The voice behind her makes her jump, even though the hallway is just as crowded and cacophonous as it always is. Mike Wheeler is looming over her, one hand clutching tight at the strap of his backpack, looking, for all intents and purposes, like he’d rather be anywhere but here.

Max frowns. “Tryouts?”

“Lucas has tryouts today,” Mike explains, slow and condescending like he’s trying to explain long division to a toddler. “Remember?”

“Of course I remember,” Max says immediately, which definitely makes her sound guilty of not remembering. But she had remembered. Of course she had remembered. It was all Lucas talked about for the last month. Basketball tryouts for the high school team. He’d said high school team like it was the big leagues that were personally recruiting him, as if he weren’t going out for JV.

“Right,” Mike says. Predictably, he doesn’t sound like he believes her. “You’re really not going?”

Max bristles. “What’s it to you?”

“Because Lucas is my friend,” Mike huffs, “and I’ve had to listen to him mope all week about you being too busy to see him at tryouts.”

“Yeah, so?” Max leans down to zip her backpack closed, the zipper catching momentarily on a stray notebook corner. She heaves it onto her shoulder and tries to pretend like it’s not as heavy as it is. Jesus H. Christ. “I can’t help being busy, Wheeler.”

“You’re not busy.”

“Yeah? How would you know?”

“Because you don’t do anything,” Mike scowls, falling into easy step beside her as she speeds down the hallway to class. The bell is going to ring any moment and– damn it.

She’s definitely lost.

Whatever, it’s fine. Geometry is, uh. It’s here somewhere. She just has to get Wheeler off her trail and then she’ll be free to be lost and confused in peace. Do not engage, she thinks. He’ll never shut up if you engage.

“You– I do things,” Max protests, despite herself. “I– I have homework.”

“Bullshit,” Mike scowls some more. He’s been scowling a lot lately, ever since summer ended. It doesn’t take an idiot to figure out why. El isn’t talking to him and the For Sale sign in front of the Byers’ just got taken down and replaced with an obnoxiously happy Sold! sign, and now Mike Wheeler’s got a dark little cloud of rain and gloom following him around like a lost little puppy. “It’s the first week of ninth grade. We have no homework.”

Max grits her teeth. “What do you want me to say? You want me to get down on my knees and grovel for forgiveness? I’m allowed to be busy, okay, Mike, I don’t owe Lucas anything, we’re not dating anymore–” 

“Yeah but you’re still his friend!” Mike exclaims, throwing his hands up and nearly smacking someone walking towards them in the face. The boy scowls. Mike ignores him.

Max looks away. Was it a right down this hallway or a left? Whatever. She goes right.

“Whatever,” she says. “Of course we’re friends.”

“Friends show up.” Mike jabs her in the shoulder with one finger, and she bats his hand away. “Friends show up. You know he’ll be so sad if you don’t–”

“Yeah?” Max spins around to face him, and jabs him in the chest with one finger, just for good measure. Mike makes an offended noise and rubs at the spot with his other hand. Not so nice, is it? “Yeah? Well if friends show up, when was the last time you went to Will’s?”

Mike blanches. “That’s– different,” he gets out. Max feels a guilty rush of satisfaction at his expression, at striking a nerve. Not so nice, is it?

“Friends show up,” she parrots gleefully. “But I know you’ve been avoiding him, so why can’t I avoid–”

“Me and Will aren’t you and Lucas,” Mike splutters, face going from a ghostly sort of white to a splotchy red all in the span of one and a half seconds. “Me and Will aren’t–”

Max waits, raising an eyebrow. “You and Will aren’t what?”

Mike ignores her. “Don’t turn this around on me,” he says. “This isn’t about me.”

“Feels an awful lot like the pot calling the kettle black, Wheeler,” Max says anyway. “What is this? Some sort of intervention? Did Lucas put you up to this?”

“No way. He doesn’t know.”

Max lets out a sigh, not bothering to hide her frustration. “Then why do you care? Why can’t you just screw off?”

“Because Lucas is my friend,” Mike presses. The scowl on his face has given way to a stubborn, almost-pleading look. “And you know how much this means to him, and–”

“Well, tough shit, okay?” Max snaps, and Mike’s mouth falls blessedly shut. “I can’t do this right now. I have to go to class and– you can stop following me now, by the way. I don’t need another stalker.”

Mike’s upper lip twitches. “We have second period Geometry together, asshole,” he says, yet somehow not unkindly. “I literally sit next to you.”

Oh. Maybe he does. Max feels a little bad for not noticing, but she hasn’t been noticing a lot of things lately. She’s spent most of the first week focused on drawing as little attention to herself as possible. Getting in and out of class as soon as she can. Running home before anyone can corner her and– God forbid– rope her into hanging out or whatever.

And see, that’s the thing, is that a different version of herself– months ago, when things were good and simple and fun and wonderfully uncomplicated– would have gone. Of course she would have gone. She can’t remember the last time she had friends like this. Definitely not back in California, definitely not right before the move. The summer had been some of the best weeks of her life. Before the– you know, before the shit had totally hit the fan and Billy died and Hop died and El was moving away and she and Lucas broke up. Again.

They’d broken up before too, and they’d always gotten back together, but it seemed like a finality this time. It wasn’t the sort of thing he could make up to her with jewelry and teddy bears and chocolate from Melvald’s with the price sticker scratched off (and Mrs. Byers’ employee discount no doubt utilized).

It was different this time because he didn’t need to make things up to her. Because it wasn’t his fault, and she wasn’t dumping his ass because he’d been immature and loud and thoughtless in typical thirteen-year-old fashion.

He’d been the opposite, actually.

She turns away from Mike before he can see her face.

Lucas had been so composed about it, so mature. He hadn’t rolled his eyes or scoffed or been frustrated when she’d said it. He’d been– quiet. Sad. Accepting. If that’s what you want, he’d said, and she’d nodded quietly before stepping off the bleachers and walking away. 

It was what she wanted, because it was easier this way, but something still made her frustrated and keyed up at the way he’d said it. Quiet and sad and without a fuss. 

More than anything, Max wants it to be April again, when things were simple. When he’d win her back and deep down she’d be secretly pleased that he hadn’t gotten tired of this inane push and pull. That he wanted her enough to spend his allowance on that teddy bear or those roses. She’d never really been mad at him. That’s just who she was– someone who pushed and pulled on the slightest of whims. Someone who dragged everyone else along with her, just because she could.

“Max?” Mike prompts. “The bell’s going to ring, and we’re in the wrong wing, so–”

The scowl has disappeared from his face a bit. He looks strangely contemplative.

Not angry. Not pitying. Just– looking.

Max takes in a deep breath and crosses her arms. “And you didn’t tell me this before?”

“You were all– all angry and stomping around and– it didn’t seem like the time!”

“Like you’ve ever cared,” she huffs, then spins on her heel and sets off in the opposite direction.

“No, Max– go left.”

“Oh. I knew that.”

She didn’t know that of course, but it’s not like she’s going to say this out loud. Mike catches up to her in three long strides, his bag bouncing obnoxiously against his back. “So?” he prompts, and Max wants to slam her head into the wall and yell. “Are you going?”

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re insanely persistent? Like annoyingly so?”

Mike grins. “I consider it one of my better qualities.”

“You remind me of poison ivy,” Max grumbles, as they turn the corner into the east wing. The bell rings sharply, the sound shrill and tinny through the hall, and she startles. “Oh shit–”

“So you’ll come, right?” Apparently Mike Wheeler doesn’t care about racking up tardies in his first week here. It’s not like Max does either, but she does like to hold the moral high ground.

She shakes her head, almost smiling despite herself. “Why do you want me to so bad?”

“It’s important to Lucas,” Mike insists, “and he’ll want you there. I don’t know how many more times I can say the same damn thing.”

“I don’t think Lucas wants to see me, Mike. I broke up with him, remember?”

At this, Mike stops abruptly, right in the middle of the hallway. Max collides roughly with his shoulder with a shocked gasp.

“Hey! What’s your deal?”

Mike grabs her shoulders, frustrated. “It’s because we– I’ll kill you if you repeat this to anyone, Max, I swear– but we miss you, okay? All of us. We miss you. It’s not that complicated, seriously.”

We miss you.

If she’s being honest, Max hadn’t been aware that there was anything to miss. She visited El, sometimes, after school when the trailer park got dark and lonely and way too quiet. It wasn’t the same as before, though. Things were heavier, sadder. Too many things unspoken, hanging in the air. 

El lived with the Byers now, and sometimes Will would be there too. There was something heavier and sadder about him too, but Max couldn’t quite put her finger on what it was. But surely there was nothing to miss in her absence. The four of them did just fine before she came along– Lucas and Dustin and Mike and–

She glances down at his hands on her shoulders, and gets a brief flash of phantom pain– hands gripping her wrists, too tight, angry. Being pushed against walls, wrestled and manhandled and shoved into the car. Road rage.

So much anger. God, there was so much anger.

She was tired of the anger, but now she doesn’t know what to do without it. Maybe that means there’s something wrong with her. Normal people don’t think like this.

She pulls away sharply. “Don’t touch me.”

Worry flashes across Mike’s face, a split second and then it’s gone. His hands fall limply to his sides. “I– sorry.”

Max feels bad. Really, she does. She wants to go. Really, she does. She wants to laugh and tease Lucas as he misses free throw after free throw, and then congratulate him when he inevitably makes the team anyway, because of course he will. He's a shoo-in, and she wants to run down to the gym after school and shake the nerves out of him and tell him that. She wants to go.

She wants–

Mostly, though, she just wants to be left the hell alone.

“I’m sorry,” she says, and Mike’s face falls, ever-so-slightly. The guilt swells up inside her and she looks down at her shoes. They’re getting even more late with every second she waits here, unmoving, and yet– “I really can’t.”

Mike doesn’t say anything for a moment. Then he sighs, and reaches for the handle of the door to the classroom, pausing for a moment before opening it. “Next time?”

It’s weirdly hopeful. Max swallows the guilt back down. “Next time,” she lies, and follows him inside.

[gh-0-stcup]

Gonna be honest, I don't think any Sam ship will ever hit as hard as Sam/Ruby.

[ladybugkisses]

this is a little late but, Happy New Year!! ! ✨💖✨ thank you to everyone that has supported me and my art, whether you're old or new around here, it means a lot!

i hope to bring lots more Lackacontent in 2024, i have so many ideas i wanna share 👀

[cool-island-songs]

anyway ,, big booty tweek canon tf

[rubsjuice]

STOP GETTING INTO FEAR AND HUNGER!!!!!!! IF THOSE BEAUTIFULLY CONSTRUCTED CHARACTERS GET ASSASSINATED BY FANDOM BECAUSE EVERYONE'S BREEZING THROUGH THE GAME CENSOR MOD ON AND BEING EXPOSED ONLY BY OTHER PEOPLE'S MEMES AND BADPOSTING I WILL TURN INTO A CORN COB AND EXPLODE!!!!!!!!!!!!

Sometimes art is meant to be uncomfortable and messy and scary to retain its quality depth and message and if you are not ready to absorb&process it the way it was intended to be maybe you are not ready to get into that art in the first place

[purrpickle]

Daily reminder that I am still unapologetically in love with GAP the Series and the amazing characters it gave us.

[darklight-owl]

Highlights from the Mother Mother concert because I'm still crazy abt it

Listen idk where to start because the second it started i became the irl version of that one guy in ATLA who starts cheering and foaming at the mouth and faints

The theater was tiny so we were SUPER close to the stage. Got a full view of everything it was perfect

The guitar solos went CRAZYYYYY how does this man do that

Problems my fucking Beloved. Everyone was screaming.

Body was hands down the best song. The energy from the stage was just unmatched.

Ryan darling I know you didn't mean it but giving that whole speech about how much you love Chile and how cool the Santiago fans have been and then immediately singing Dirty Town was unintentionally hilarious.

By the way can I talk about how sweet Ryan Guldemond was. He put a chilean flag around his shoulders. He gave this whole speech about how they want to keep coming back here and how if there's any young artists in the crowd he wants to watch THEM perform someday. He engaged with the audience a lot and after the concert he stayed onstage for a while to shake hands with people. At one point people started chanting "mijito rico" I don't think he knew what the fuck we were saying but he still went "thank you ☺️" that was funny.

Anyway I got a newfound appreciation for Sleep Awake. Molly's voice is angelic and it's so sweet how the song was written especially for her.

I also have a new appreciation for Verbatim despite the fact I already liked that song because nothing compares to screaming your lungs out after the first chorus with a stadium full of people

Little Pistol caught me off guard, it's not one of the most popular songs but it's one of my favs. Kinda sad they shortened it but it was beautiful regardless.

My only criticism is that it was so SHORT. I could have kept going for an hour more tbh but I guess touring is very tiring so I get it. Amazing experience happiest I've ever been I wanna go back

[slotmachines-fearofgod]

me: oh yeah no one left to sing to is by far my longest fic i don't think anything else will even come close to -

the cody and ahsoka bonding fic that is 90 pages with at least two more chapters that still need to be written sitting in the corner: no please. continue. what were you saying?