#I don’t fucking understand gym etiquette!!! there is no etiquette!!!!!!!!

[jiggery-duggery]

Your first opponent when you start hitting the gym will be your own confidence and self image. Once you’ve conquered that, your second opponent is everyone else in the room

[shoichee]

Hello❤️❤️❤️ congrats with 100 followers🥳🥳🥳 hope the audience will expand😍 and can I repeat myself again? I love your works😍

So, can I request 5 with Himuro?

hihihihihi!! ty sm for your support squeeeeee, sure you can repeat again, think of it as a thank you for being there since the beginning <333 i actually have so much requests now it’s kind of crazy!

Himuro x Reader

5. “Well. Yell, scream, say something. Anything”

Word Count: 2255

prompt list here

TW: attempted assault and stalking, nothing graphic, but these are the main subjects for this scenario, so PLEASE PLEASE take care of yourself first if these topics trigger you and avoid them!

»»—————　☼　—————««

Himuro felt helpless.

The Winter Cup that year when Seirin rightfully won was over months ago, but even still, there is still a part of him that gnaws at him from the inside of his consciousness. Ever since he failed to stop Haizaki from making unwanted advances on his mentor.

No matter how much Alex assured him that it wasn’t a big deal, no matter how easily she shrugged the incident off, there is still a festering guilt that eats him away at how useless he was in protecting the people he cared about. He couldn’t even protect Kagami as an “elder brother,” and he couldn’t even protect Alex as a “male” against another male. Still, no matter how much he chastises himself for having such immature thoughts, they’ve continued to overstay their welcome. What kind of traits does an “elder brother” or a capable “male” even entail?

Someone who wouldn’t be beaten and swatted like a fly…

Someone who wouldn’t just sit idly by when someone is being wronged…

Someone who wouldn’t hesitate to fight back to protect someone, even despite the consequences…

But if that’s the case… that’s just the definition of a person with human decency, isn’t it? Yes, perhaps that is why he still mulls over the encounter to this day. First he split off his brotherhood with Kagami over a one-track goal of an equal rivalry, and then he talked down to his mentor before his Winter Cup game that evening… In the end, he was absolutely pathetic, losing to Kagami’s inborn talent and getting beat down while watching his teacher getting harassed and choked. He easily accepted the fact that Kagami surpassed him with his basketball… The latter? Not so much.

He hasn’t really talked about his inner turmoil with anyone. Atsushi is someone who would not care too much about the complex emotions that he’s currently harboring, much less help deal with them. His other teammates are graduating and too occupied with final exams. He could speak with Alex, but by now, she’s moved back to America, and a part of him doesn’t want to call her out of his self-consciousness and humiliation. You?… He could confide his troubles with you… but a part of him whispers that you’d think less of him if you knew how incapable he really was.

After all, if he couldn’t even protect you as your boyfriend… no, he’d rather not go too far into that thought.

He smiles at the thought of you openly complimenting everything of him every time he subconsciously downplays himself, whether it was his basketball skills or his looks or even his habits. He always thought about how cute you were when you always made exaggerated hand movements to express your sincerity when you shower him with compliments, even if he always told you that you never had to go that far in saying such things. (You always insisted that they’re true and he was the best boyfriend anyone could ask for anyways.)

To someone like Himuro who had always hid their inferiority complex and other entangling insecurities behind a mask of a genial smile, your words always reassured him that he wasn’t treating you horribly or neglecting you or just being downright selfish. Just like what happened with Kagami. Just like what happened with Alex. He just hopes he doesn’t fuck this up somehow with you too.

He had always apologized for how he couldn’t spend as much time with you as he wanted to; basketball practice doesn’t spare anyone, after all. Still, you would smack his arm and push him to the gym as you scolded him to focus on what he loved to do best. Ah, he really didn’t deserve you… how you were so understanding he would never know.

But dusk fell at another early-February weekday; it was still quite chilly, cold enough to see his own puffs of warm exhales. His hands are cold, but the rest of his body burns from running laps and repeating shooting drills moments earlier. His ears grow hotter still when he remembers that you two had planned a simple outing near the coffee shop around the corner.

“Atsushi!” Himuro turns back to call out to the center player. “I need to be going now.”

“Hmph,” Murasakibara huffs in reply. “I was gonna ask you to take me to that new booth to try out new samples.”

“Sorry, sorry,” he laughs, noting the faint mist escaping his lips. “I’ll take you there next time, Atsushi. I have a date planned with (y/n)-san right now.”

“Tch, I’m leaving before you get too mushy on me. Buh-bye~” the giant drawls, casually strolling down the opposite path. Himuro manages to hold back a mild snort before he makes his way to head to the shop you two agreed to meet up at. Propping up his phone to look for your name to send a text, his eyes widen as he registers your name popping up on his screen as an incoming call. What a coincidence. You must’ve been anticipating this too. He smiles as he envisioned your anticipation at the table before he picks up on your call.

“Tatsuya?…” your voice rang.

“(y/n)-san,” he teased. “I didn’t think of you as an impatient person. Can’t wait to see me?”

“Yeah,” you said, but something about your voice was overly cheerful.

“Don’t worry,” Himuro hummed. “I’ll be there really soon. Give me 5 minutes.” He assumed it was just your excitement taking over that made you sound different than usual. He was about to hang up before you spoke again.

“A-Anywho!” you say. “How was practice, Tatsuya?”

“Hmm, the same it has always been,” he replies. “Just drills and laps before running a few practice games. Why do you ask?”

“No reason! C-Can’t I check up on you sometimes?”

“Of course you can, (y/n)-san,” he reassures you. There was a silence from your end, but he can hear how your breaths quickened over the line. He then registered some footsteps and maneuvers on the concrete and furrowed his brows in mild confusion. “… Hey, is there something wrong?”

“A-Ah yes! I’m at the laundromat right a-around the corner!” Your voice slightly peaks at the end. “Y-Yeah, yeah! I can’t wait to… s-see you soon! Uh, huh, m-mhm! You’re near right now, right? Yeah! You-you’re almost there!…” By now, your voice has taken on an almost hysterical tone.

“(y/n)?… (y/n)!” he half-shouts into his phone. “(y/n)! Can you still hear me! Where are you?!… Laundromat, right?” He breaks into a brisk run, ignoring the disapproving stares of other pedestrians on the sidewalk.

“I-I-I’m near the alley adjacent to the laundromat!… Yeah! C-Can’t wait to see you! O-Oh, don’t forget… um, to bring your wallet. S-Silly, you always forget to bring money, so… s-so…” You completely break your facade with a faint voice crack and a sniffle at the end. “Please… please hurry…”

Himuro pushes himself to a full sprint, completely disregarding etiquette as he pushes a few people to the side. His cold hands struggle to cease from shaking as he clutches his phone harder, as if he was holding onto you for dear life. Something terrible might happen to you, and if something happened to you on his watch…

Please, please, please, fucking god, please—please make it on time—

He grits his teeth and screams at his legs to move faster when he hears a stifled sob and a cry from your end.

“A-ah please…” you whisper. “They’re coming—they’re, Himuro, I don’t know where to ru—” All he heard after was a terrified scream before the line cut off.

Fuck, hurry up, hurry the fuck up—

———

Your phone was completely shattered on the floor, and you swore you had a few broken shards embedded in your skin somewhere from the harsh impact. That didn’t matter though. Not when there were two men grabbing you and trying to muffle your cries for help.

You try to use your elbow to hit their weakest parts, their joints, to loosen their grip. It worked, but as soon as you took a few steps, the other just tackled you to the floor to completely immobilize you.

You screamed, you kicked, you slapped, you elbowed, you punched, you flailed, but nothing seemed effective against two bodies, twice the size and twice the strength of your own.

You pitifully wail as a last desperate attempt, but in the quiet corner of the neighborhood, nobody seems to heed your cries for help. The sun had completely set by now, the year still experiencing the darkness of a winter night; by now, most are already at home relaxing. Their weight on your body was suffocating and you don’t know whether the pain was from the rough concrete, the shards, their weight, or all of the above.

You register them heaving you up with a firm hold on you still and shoving you to walk to the nearest vehicle they owned, and your legs are absolutely trembling from the shallow wounds you accumulated from the roughing and from the fear of the uncertainty of what would happen to you.

———

When Himuro lays eyes on your roughed-up state and the two men restraining you, all his fury and guilt and fear comes rushing back from his encounter with Haizaki.

He is not a rational man right now. He is not thinking of being the “bigger person.” He is not thinking about being a model athlete nor proper sportsmanship nor disqualification. There are no such thoughts of consequences, not when your life is being jeopardized.

He does not fucking care that he looks like the aggressor when he throws a left hook at the first man. He does not fucking care that the second man looks like his shoulder got dislocated. For once, he does not fucking care how his violent actions might cost him his prospective basketball career.

When he pulls your trembling body into his arms and feels how warm you are against his body in the night chills of an early-February weekday, he breathes out a long cloud of air, slowly calming himself as he hugs you more firmly against his side and pulls up to dial the local police.

He feels a slight sense of relief when he can feel you instinctively snuggling into his side for solace.

———

The local officers immediately got the gist once they saw the scene of two sprawled men, a terrified you, and a protective Himuro. After checking the nearby CTE cameras, their suspicions were confirmed. They still ask Himuro a few basic questions before they haul them off to the station; Himuro mostly answers for you.

Once the quiet fills the neighborhood again, you release a shuddering breath; Himuro knows because he can see your own mist from the corner of his eye. Still, you haven’t spoken a word since then.

“(y/n)…” he murmurs, bending down to your level to survey the scratches and bruises on your body before he hesitantly looks at your eyes. “Well… yell, scream, say something—anything… please.”

“… Can you… hug me again?”

“… Of course.”

And you both embrace tightly, Himuro tucking your head into his chest as you nuzzle as much as you could into his body.

“… Did they do anything to you?”

“They roughed me up and all, but… thank god you came…”

“They still put their hands on you—I couldn’t protect you—”

“… Why do you look so much more distraught than me, Tatsuya?”

“Because, I—I can’t do anything for the people I love and care about, and I… never mind, do you… want me to walk you home?”

“Wait, Tatsuya…” you whispered. “Let’s talk for a bit, please talk to me.”

“Our date—”

“Which we can always reschedule,” you said, bringing Himuro’s head down to nuzzle against your shoulders.

“If I was there faster—if I was there, this wouldn’t have…”

“Because you were there,” you corrected him. “I am able to experience another day, another tomorrow… especially by your side, where I’m happiest.”

“You must’ve been so scared—damn it, I—”

“Yeah… I’m still shaken up from that, to be honest,” you sighed. “I’m… just a bit paranoid about being alone in the dark now, but you saved me from the worst case scenario—Tatsuya, what’s wrong?! Are you crying—?”

“Sorry, sorry,” he said, quickly separating from you to rub his stray tears away before attempting to smile. “I should be the one comforting you, not the other way around. Please don’t mind me.”

“Oh silly,” you mused. “I’m dating you too. I want to be able to protect and care for you in my own way, too.”

“It’s getting dark, though. We should really start walking.”

“And we can talk while we do. I demand you to snuggle while we walk, too.”

“Haha… how could I ever say no to you, (y/n)?” He feels that gnawing sense of guilt and patheticness rearing up its head again, but when he looks at your earnest eyes even despite what transpired a few moments ago, the fact that you were safe and in his arms was more than enough to quell those feelings away.

In the lulls of a chilly early-February night, Himuro wraps a comforting arm over your figure as he draws a shuddering breath before he hesitantly begins. You look up at his face expectantly to show that you were giving him undivided attention as encouragement.

“It was during the Winter Cup a few months ago…”

———

End Note: being stalked by a dude in a CAR was NOT FUN. IT WAS NOT A FUN TIME !! 😭 unlike this y/n here, I had no one to “call” and pretend that I was meeting up with them because my walk route home comprised of only houses and streets, so that was something else OOF I was thinking of the worst case scenarios at the time;;;

[just-call-me-the-intrusive-thot]

Soulmate September - Day 10

Day 10 - You are born with a birthmark, similar to a tattoo, that is shared by your soulmate.

Pairing(s): Romantic Anaroceit, Romantic RemSleep, Ambiguous Poly Glasses Gays 

TWs: Swearing, Remus being Remus, animal death metions briefly, implied sexual mention once I think? 

–

Why was it so difficult to simply bring together two handsome, obnoxious soulmates?

How could grown men be this dense?!Virgil had been trying for MONTHS at this point to get these idiots to date, yet for some reason 

Instead of wanting to date each other, they both seemed far more interested in someone else.

In him.

Why, why did this have to be his life? Tormented by such stupid, handsome men?

Okay, maybe he had a teeny crush on both of them but Virgil was getting ahead of himself.

Working at the local theatre was doing some real good for Virgil; being a techie meant he was mostly out of the spotlight - so no chance of any performance anxiety - and it meant he had to actually wake up and be a functional human being but was flexible enough that he could call in sick pretty easily if he needed a mental health day. 

Thankfully, things had been going well until Virgil looked down from the catwalk to note that the two best actors in their troupe, Roman Prince and Janus D. Lyre, both bore each other’s soulmate markings. Both on the backs of their necks, all too easy to miss. Ever since, Virgil had been trying to subtly get them to realise they were soulmates. Of course, given the intimacy of the soulmate marks, it would be entirely outrageous for Virgil to simply tell them they were soulmates; social etiquette wasn’t his forte, but his anxiety really didn’t want the possible shunning he might receive if he broke that rule. Knowing that Janus and Roman were often together for rehearsals and were similarly self-obsessed, Virgil assumed getting them interested in each other would be a piece of cake.

And yet. Somehow. The man they were both interested in was Virgil himself.

Every time he tried to get the two talking, Virgil wound up being flirted with or found himself stuck between two arguing idiots. If anything, Virgil wondered if his interfering had made things worse. Now instead of kidding and being perfect and gorgeous together, they were absolutely straight up enemies. Janus did his best to interrupt - and one-up - Roman’s stellar attempts at flirting, and Roman often tried to out shine Janus by giving Virgil anything from his favourite chocolates to gothic black roses to new headphones.

Not that Virgil didn’t secretly love being the object of their mutual affection, if anything it gave him hope that perhaps whoever his soulmate was would dote on him just as much. But just like his non-existent soulmate mark, this just wasn’t meant to be. He still wasn’t sure why he didn’t have a soulmate mark like everyone else; even his ace and aro friends confirmed they had soulmates too, so why was he skipped over? Probably because no one would ever want to be his soulmate.Yeah. Probably.

Virgil was lost in that downward spiral when Remus leapt off of the set he was painting and landed just shy of crushing the poor emo.

“Wow you look like shit,”, the trash rat greeted, sitting and slinging an arm around Virgil before he could protest, “Are the girls fighting again?”

Virgil tried to stifle a snicker. It’s a stupid meme reference, Virgil, don’t laugh.

“Of course it fucking is, when is it not?“

Remus nodded, though he looked more bored than sympathetic, “Well, how about I offer you some advice, my good bitch?”

Virgil squinted at him in both annoyance and suspicion. “If it’s going to get me arrested, it’s a solid ‘fuck no’.”

“Relax, asshole, it’s totally legal and requires zero body bags and or falsified witness statements!”

Well. That’s about as good as they’re going to get. Virgil huffed, “Fine, give me the deets, Ratman.”

Remus snickered at the old nickname; A decade had passed but still the memory of the two of them graffitiing their high school gym with their tags on their last day still lived on.

“Alright, Stitch Bitch, here’s how you do it,”, Remus ignored Virgil’s eye roll and continued, “Ask them both on a date, same place and time. Talk about your interests, since you’re probably not gonna actually have that much in common, then you can just reject both of them! They’ll be driven into each other’s arms, or some shit. You know what they’re like, they’re dramatic as fuck. It’ll be perfect.”

Virgil wasn’t amused, “But what if they don’t? What if I just end up breaking both their hearts and they wind up all depressed and-?!”

“Then it solves your problem anyway, dipshit.”, he rolled his eyes, “Jeez, you’re worse than Roman with the dramatics! Think of the middle ground, you turn them both down, they go home sulking, but they’re big boys! They’ll get over it and get together some other day! Big deal!” Remus affectionately ruffled Virgil’s hair and didn’t stop until Virgil all but threw him off, “Alright, alright, fine! I’ll try, but if it all goes wrong, you’re helping me pack to move across the fucking globe.” “Ooh, alright! Or I can hide your body if it goes REALLY badly! I know how to make sure the police never find it, after all! Did you know you just need to bury it vertically and put a dead animal on top-”

Virgil tuned him out, already trying to narrow down locations for dates in his head. He’d need to pick somewhere both Roman and Janus would agree to go. He didn’t exactly doubt either of them would turn him down, but he needed to be sure they’d both attend. Perhaps the local restaurants would be a good place to start? It’d be easy to Mrs.Doubtfire that shit. Minus the clothing change, of course. Maybe the Golden Palace might be a good idea? It’s bougie enough for Roman, classy enough for Janus, and if Virgil got lucky enough, perhaps they’d both be the ones to pay for dinner.

“...And so I told Roman about it and then Roman tells me “Remus, you dunce, you got arrested because you were caught carrying a dangerous weapon in Starbucks” but I personally think that cop was just an asshole. I mean, it was just a baseball bat for fuck’s sake, so WHAT if it had a few nails in it-”

The techie noted that Remus was still babbling to himself so he clicked his fingers just shy or flicking him in the ear,

“When’s Roman free? I know Janus is pretty flexible-”

“I’ll bet.”, Remus snickered. “Dude. You have your soulmate, don’t be a dick.”

“Hey, that doesn’t mean I can’t mentally rank every guy here on how bendy I think they’d be in bed-”

“THAT ASIDE.”, Virgil interrupted, rubbing his temples like it would squeeze out the horrible mental image and several questions he never wanted answers to, “I’ve nailed down the where, I just need the when. Janus is free most days, but Roman’s pretty enigmatic about that shit. Do you know if he’s free tonight? Might as well get this shit over with.”

Remus mulled it over, “He should be. But you should probably just ask him first then Janus. Y’know, save yourself the trouble.”

Ah. That did make sense. Virgil tried not to let it show that he hadn’t thought of that and nodded, “Right… Okay. Just, if I fuck up talking to either of them, be ready.”

“With the car or a shovel?”

“Both.”

The trashrat snickered and let Virgil stand up, giving him an ‘affectionate’ jab in the back of his knee just to get a reaction out of the techie. Virgil wasn’t sure why Remus did that sometimes, he figured it was just another one of the demented twin’s eccentricities.

Inhaling deeply, Virgil sought out Roman, careful to avoid Janus’ line of sight as he tapped the flamboyant twin on the arm. Roman spun to face him, his expression lighting up in a way that made Virgil shamefully wish that he was his soulmate. That he was worthy of all his doting.

“Virge! What can I do for you, my dark and stormy knight?”

Stop being so fucking charming perhaps?

“Uh, it’s kind of an embarrassing request, so bear with me.”

“Of course! What’s up?”

Just ask him, ignore the butterflies, he’s not your soulmate.

“I was wondering, if you’d want to go on a date with me tonight-”

Roman positively swept the emo off his feet, his beaming smile could have burned itself into Virgil’s eyes.

“YES!! YES, I’D ADORE-”

“YEP! Okay, that’s great!”, he shushed him, trying to keep things as quiet as possible, “Listen, I know you’re excited but I’m really anxious about this-”

“Nothing new there.”, Roman chuckled affectionately as he put Virgil down.

“Oh shut up,”, Virgil smirked, pushing down the sunny feeling that chuckle brought out, “Look, I’ll text you the details so can you just keep this between us? I don’t want anyone gossiping. Not that I’m ashamed of you or anything I just-”

Roman carefully halted his word vomit with a gentle caress of Virgil’s cheek, “It’s alright, I understand. After all, with such an honour, I’d do good not to betray the trust of my charming prince.”

Virgil flusteredly averted his gaze, “Hmph. What happened to your ‘dark and stormy knight’?”

“Well, if things go well, I’d hope to promote him.”

The wink Roman shot Virgil should be illegal, that thing could have killed him. The techie just gave him an attempt at an ‘oh fuck off’ smirk that came out more as a ‘fuck I have a crush’ shy smile.

No time to dwell on it, he had another stupidly handsome man to ask on a fake date. 

Virgil checked with the stagehands and made his way over to the backstage dressing room area, finding Janus sat on one of the makeup tables while their dramaturg was busy going over some directions for their next rehearsal. Upon looking up and noticing him, Janus smirked - another expression that should be outright banned for it’s lethality - and politely requested the dramaturg ‘bother him another time’. They did exactly that, leaving Virgil and Janus alone to talk,

“Virgil,”, Janus purred with a voice like sweet honey, “what brings you here?”

Don’t think about that sexy voice, don’t think about that sexy voice, don’t-

“You, actually.” Play it cool, Virge. Be suave and charming. “I wanted to ask you out on a date.”

Janus’ eyes widened slightly in surprise. Virgil felt pretty proud to have finally stunned the silver-tongued gent, though he knew it’d only be a fleeting victory. If anyone would out-smooth even the most flirty person alive, it would be Janus.

With a snake-like fluidity, Janus slunk off of the table and made his way over to Virgil; whereas Roman was only an inch or two taller than him, Janus had a whole six inches at least. Virgil found it semi-intimidating, but that just made the taller man more attractive if he was being honest. Janus softly ran a hand through Virgil’s purple-dyed hair, 

“That’s rather a bold request, Virgil. What brought this on, if I may ask? Not that I’m complaining..”

Virgil had to work extremely hard to resist the urge to nestle into the warmth of his palm. Not your soulmate! Stop it! “I uh, I figured I would take a risk for once. It’s alright if you don’t wanna-”

“No.”, Janus interjected, the hand in Virgil’s hair sliding under his chin to lock their eyes, “I’d very much like to go on a date with you. When and where?”

Virgil swallowed nervously, “The Golden Palace, tonight? I’ll um, I’ll book the table and text you the time-”

“Perfect.”, Janus smirked, gently releasing Virgil. He hadn’t realised how much he’d been subconsciously leaning into Janus’ touch until he almost felt himself sway. “I’ll be sure to wear my best suit for you. Really give you something to blush over.”

Shit.

Virgil had no rebuttal, he simply nodded and hastily headed back to his usual breakspot to work out just how he would survive tonight…

--

It turned out the answer was simple; he wouldn’t.

Thankfully Virgil had settled on an outfit that was just the right mix of fancy and casual; his black leather jacket hugged his shoulders which his dark purple button up sat under. He’d gone back and forward between his options for bottoms, but in the end, he preferred his black short pencil skirt and a pair of sheer black tights that matched his black ankle boots. It was a bold choice, but Virgil felt far more powerful in that combination. Like he could kick ass and get away with it.

Virgil needn’t have bothered, however, as the second he showed up at quarter to seven to meet Roman, any semblance of confidence in his ability to control the situation went right out the window. It should have been illegal to look that handsome. A white waistcoat and pants bearing gold trim, combined with a burgundy button up shirt with the sleeves rolled? How dare Roman look that beautiful-

Oh god, now he’s smiling at him from across the room. Too late to back out now. 

Swallowing nervously, Virgil returned the smile and headed over to the table he’d booked; far enough from the door for Roman to miss Janus arriving, and out of the way enough so that they wouldn’t see each other too soon. If he wasn’t so nervous, Virgil would have pat himself on the back for the trouble he went to securing two tables over the phone, but the last thing he wanted to focus on was the person on the phone’s sassy remarks as he did so. Instead, he focused on Roman politely getting up to pull out his chair for him.

“You look stunning, Virge! Did you change up your eye shadow too?”

Virgil gave an anxious nod, “Yeah, I thought maybe I’d try the purple instead of solid black like usual. Do you like it?”

Roman’s grin could’ve smothered him in the night and he’d have thanked it for the priveledge, “I love it!”

While keeping an eye on the time, Virgil let himself roll into conversation with Roman; he was surprised by not only how smoothly the conversation went, but how much they had in common. Sure, there was a tiiiiny heated exchange as to which Disney movie reigned supreme, but their mutual love of Nightmare Before Christmas and the artistic pursuits made for some wonderful discussion. It was a shame Virgil had to remind himself of just why he was doing this. 

He was supposed to be making his rejection of Roman easier, not more difficult.

Finally, as 8 O’clock rolled around, Janus walked in followed by a few other smartly dressed patrons. Of course, Janus very much stood out among them wearing a black dinner suit with an obsidian waist coat and golden coloured button up underneath. His usual bowler hat had been replaced for a much fancier one with a larger brim that held a marigold flower. The sight was so enticing, Virgil had to will himself to stop staring as he got up from the table,

“Excuse me, Roman, mind if I go use the bathroom?”

Roman gave a nod and Virgil made haste towards the restroom area; thankfully he’d planned ahead and knew he could use the corridor that went along behind the bar to emerge on the other side of the room without being detected. However, a new obstacle proved to be a challenge; Janus hadn’t taken his eyes off of the door since the moment he’d walked in and removed his suit jacket. 

Damn. Virgil hadn’t anticipated that. 

Luckily, one of the men who’d come in behind Janus - a man adorned in an off-black suit wearing a beanie, a pair of sunglasses, and a face mask - had just come out of the bathroom door behind him. Without the time to let his social anxiety kick in, Virgil stopped the man and asked quietly, “Hey, sorry to be a bother, but if you can distract the handsome guy at that table for a couple  minutes,“, he began, gesturing to Janus, “I’ll give you ten bucks, how’s that sound?”.

The man seemed to stare for a moment behind the shades then silently gestured with his hands in a motion of “more”.

Of course.

“Okay, uh, fifteen?”

More again. This asshole..

“Ugh, fine, twenty! That's as much as I can spare!”

The man shrugged and nodded, gladly taking the money and, to his credit, doing exactly as was asked. Virgil watched him approach Janus, asking for the time if the way Janus took his attention and turned it to his watch was an indication. It bought Virgil enough time to ‘arrive’ just as the man gave a thank you nod to Janus.

“Sorry I’m a little late,”, Virgil apologised, taking his seat, “I hope I didn’t keep you waiting?”

 “Not at all,”, Janus assured him, smirking delightedly in a way that made Virgil’s knees feel weak even in a sitting position, “You look beautiful, Virgil, if I’d known you’d look so good, I’d have picked out an even better suit.”

This fucking guy, oh my god. “Oh shut up, you look handsome as is.”, Virgil shot back, doing his best to remain calm even as Janus leant in close to strike up conversation.

--

“I’m telling you, babes, he’s either a cheater or he’s crazy.”

Remy aimed the stirrer he’d been using to push back his cuticles towards Virgil and Janus, then trained it on his stoic co worker, “Look, he’s got two gorgeous guys here and neither of them have noticed yet.”

The aforementioned co worker rolled his eyes, “Remy, you have once again utterly misread the situation for the sake of needless dramatics. It’s rather obvious what’s going on here if you take the time to pick up on subtle body language clues.”

“What’s this about clues, Logie Bear?”, questioned a rather eager waiter carrying a tray of glasses back behind the bar. “Are you playing Sherlock again?”

“Patton, please, refrain from the pet names during working hours, I’ve told you before-”

“While they’re perfectly suitable and welcome at home, we must remain professional at work.”, chimed in another bespectacled man who was manning the till, “It’s fine Logan, honey, let them off the hook this once, okay?”

Patton put down the tray and wrapped their arms around the man who’d just spoken, “Emile’s right! C’mon Logan, you can’t deny it, you like the name too-”

Logan cleared his throat to throw off the peachy blush that threatened to give away his adoration for his soulmates, ”As I was saying before, it’s obvious as to what this rather anxious individual is up to. His body language isn’t that of a cheater, Remy,”, the server flipped Logan the bird, “In fact, I’d hazard a guess that the poor lad is simply attempting to work out which man is his soulmate. I read a fascinating journal that talked all about this phenomenon where some soulmates are unable to see their soulmarks and thus rely on a technique comparable to sensing one’s aura-”

“Okay so like, you think he’s trying to get a read on these two to narrow it down?”, Remy interrupted before Logan could further explore his tangent, “Well then, it’s obvious which one he’s gonna pick.”

Remy gestured lazily over his shoulder at Roman, who was currently twirling his fork between his fingers, “It’s gonna be Tall, Dark and Dumbass over there, babes.”

Logan scoffed, “Falsehood. Clearly the gentleman he’s sat with currently is a much more appropriate option.”. The server nodded his head in their direction, “All factors point to the man in black not only being the more suitable option, but his body language is far more open and receptive to our subject.”

“Subject. Christ it’s like I’m back in science one.”, Remy groaned, but continued to argue, “Besides, you’re ignoring how he’s like, totes more comfortable with my boy in white, sweetie. Look at him, he can’t wait to get away from your boy in black.“

Sure enough, Virgil had gone to switch partners again, returning to Roman with a sweetly shy apologetic gesture.

Patton piped up, “What if they’re like us, Logie Bear? Y’know, more than one soulmate?”

Logan shook his head, “Ridiculous, it’d make no sense to have such a date if that were the case.”

Remy nodded in agreement for the first time, “Yeah, either way, you’re wrong on this one, Logan. Trust me, I know what a fellow morosexual looks like.”

Emile and Logan both sighed at that one while Patton tsk’d, “Remy, come on, thats your soulmate you’re talking about! You shouldn’t be mean!”

Remy quirked an eyebrow at Patton, “Babes, have you met Remus? I love the big sap but he’s a certified dumbass with a heaping dose of cryptid.”, he opened the drinks cooler and took out a lemonade bottle, not giving a shit that the three soulmates behind him were absolutely unamused. ”Anyway, if you’re so sure over who our ‘subject’ will end up with, how about we bet on it? Loser has to work two weeks of overtime and the winner gets thirty dollars or some shit. You in?”

Patton and Emile both declined, both more focused on their work and simply enjoying the dates being had, while Logan agreed wholeheartedly, “I do hope your next two weeks are free, Remy...”

--

He couldn’t take much more of this.

The longer Virgil kept going back and forth between the two of them - using his anxiety to buy himself time without too much suspicion - the more he was getting tangled up in feelings he knew he couldn’t indulge. Every second with Roman made him smile, even when trading verbal jabs. Every second with Janus made him feel more bold, able to flirt back every once and a while. But this wasn’t right. Janus, Roman, they were made for each other. Not for him.

He wouldn’t get to curl up next to Roman on a cold night, watching Disney movies, baking together, or following along to Bob Ross tutorials only for one of them inevitably would start painting on the other until they were both paint splattered, cackling messes. 

He wouldn’t get to dance quietly in the living room with Janus while their favourite music plays, swaying softly to his favourite Jazz music, or lazily draping himself over Janus’ lap while they read their favourite books long into the night.

Virgil stared into the bathroom mirror; his ‘dates’ had been so sweet as to compliment him, but all he could focus on was how much of a mess he felt. He’s going to break their hearts beyond repair, all because he couldn’t just tell them they were soulmates. Social etiquette be damned, why had he let it go on like this?

Feeling his chest constricting, Virgil quickly grabbed his phone and texted Remus.

V: [help. Having a panic attack. Distract me]

He tried to remember his breathing exercises, chewing his free hand’s thumbnail anxiously until he got the text notification;

R: [Cool. Did u  kno rabbits eat their babies when they’re stressed?]

…. Virgil heavily regretted asking Remus to distract him.

V: [Horrifying. Thank you.]

R: [Anytime, Stitch Bitch. Now what happened?]

V: [Dates backfired.]

R: [U caught feelings didnt u]

Virgil groaned and kept typing.

V: [fuck u]

R: [fuck me urself coward.]

Well at least that got a laugh out of him. Remus followed up that text before he could reply:

R: [Just go out there and tell them the truth]

V: [nope, no way, they’ll hate me]

R: [Bitch they’re both smitten w/ u it’ll hurt but they’ll live, they’re sat there worried about u]

V: [how the fuck do you know that?]

R: [Remy’s on shift tonight, he and Logan are taking bets on how things will pan out. They’ve been texting me non stop.]

That did explain a few things. Namely the one server with the sunglasses and sassy attitude who gave him and Roman extra desserts “for like, the cutest couple in this bitch”, and the other more stoic server who brought him and Janus a bottle of champagne “to celebrate a wonderful partnership”. When would his life stop feeling like a goddamn circus?

Virgil was pulled from his thoughts as his next text sent his blood running cold,

R: [u might wanna get back to em, they’ll be worried about u by now]

Dammit. Virgil had just left the bathroom to be met with a worried Roman, “Virgil, are you alright!? You were gone so long, I thought something had happened!”

Stomp down that affection you’re feeling, Virgil. It’s just gonna hurt more.

“I’m fine, its just my nerves-”

“Virgil?”

Both men turned to spy Janus entering the hallway with an expression of shock and disgust upon seeing the two of them. He promptly strode over and with surprising gentleness moved Virgil to his side,

“It’s bad enough I can’t avoid you at work, Prince, but I’ll not have you ruining our date night.”

As Janus went to lead Virgil away, Roman held onto Virgil’s hand, “Actually, Lies and Dolls, he’s with me tonight, so kindly take your delusions and leave.”

Oh my god, why did he trust Remus’ plan in the first place?! Janus smirked dangerously, “Or what, you dramatic hack?”

Roman took exception to that, and while Janus had the height advantage, Roman still knew how to be intimidating when needed, “I’ll make you leave!”

Before either of them could come to blows, Virgil got in between them. He might as well come clean,

“BOTH OF YOU STOP!”

Janus and Roman faced him, sporting stunned but ever attentive expressions. Ugh, this was gonna hurt.

“I can’t do this anymore! Yeah, I did ask you both here, and yeah! You’re both wonderful but you’re not meant to be with me! You’re meant to be with each other! Ugh, this was a mistake! I can’t-! I can’t be here, I’m sorry-!”

Virgil wrenched himself from between them, making a beeline through the tables and just getting out of the door before the two caught up to him. In the back of his mind, Virgil assumed the serving staff that followed behind were either desperate to see this unfold or just making sure this wasn’t going to be a dine ‘n’ dash scenario.

“Virge, come on, you’re not making any sense! I’m not meant to be with Janus,”, Roman assured him, rolling his left sleeve up the whole way and revealing Virgil’s soul mark, “I’m meant to be with you! You’re my soulmate, Virgil! Surely you knew-”

“That’s,”, Janus interrupted, “That’s not possible, because Virgil is my soulmate.”

Both Roman and Virgil turned to face him, watching Janus roll up his right sleeve to reveal Virgil’s soul mark in the exact same place as Roman’s had been. 

To say Virgil was confused was an understatement, “W...Wait, no, that’s...”

Roman and Janus stared at each other’s soul mark then looked to Virgil, “You… really didn’t know that I- that we were your soulmates?”

Virgil shook his head, ”I don’t have your soulmarks though! It doesn’t make sense...”

He turned away, grasping his arms as he tried to make sense of all this. All his life, Virgil had looked in his mirror and wished - God, how he’d wished - to find just one mark. Something to prove that he was indeed someone’s soulmate. That the universe hadn’t forsaken him. And now he had two of the most wonderful men he’d ever met sporting his soul mark while he had nothing to reassure him this wasn’t some cosmic fluke?!

Janus and Roman stood in awkward silence, the latter giving the servers an apologetic look and pulling out his wallet to pay when the former noticed something about Virgil that had him squinting to get a look. “.... Virgil, do forgive me for this.”

Without hesitating, Janus whipped out his pocket knife - why he brought it on a date, Virgil had no idea - and cut a hole in the back of Virgil’s tights, careful to avoid his skin.

“What the FUCK, Janus!?”, came the obviously horrified reply, only for Janus to take a picture with his phone and hand it to Virgil, rendering him speechless.

Sure enough, there on the inside of his right knee joint was Janus’ soul mark. 

“I just happened to spot the same shade of yellow showing through and, well….”

He didn’t need to finish, Virgil was stunned to silence. All this time, how could he have missed it!? 

Well, it wasn’t in the easiest to see area, and come to think of it, his mirror was a little too high off the ground for that kind of angle, and with the marks being so small..…..

The revelation was met with a shocked gasp from Roman.

“... Virgil, may I-”

“I’ll just take them off, fucking hell!”

Both men turned away to let Virgil remove his shoes and tights in peace. When he gave them the all clear, Roman was ecstatic to note his own soul mark adorning the left knee joint. Virgil glanced towards his two soulmates, letting out a soft sigh of adoration at their delighted faces. He was feeling a whole rush of emotions, but right now? The last thing he wanted was to waste any more time.

“Gimme a second to pay these guys,”, Virgil gestured to the gaggle of servers set in various expressions of celebratory delight, “Then we can go back to my place and have a movie night.”

Roman and Janus offered sweet smiles to their soulmate; that sounded like the perfect end to a wild night.

---- Bonus (Because I got attached to this universe, fight me) ----

With the cafe clearing out aside a few stragglers, Remy sighed distantly, “Well, it’s a good thing we both won, babes, I didn’t wanna get stuck with all that overtime.”

Logan gave him a perplexed look, “Actually, we both lost, therefore we both should work overtime.”

Remy pulled down his shades to glare at Logan, “.... Are you fucking kidding me? Bitch, we WON, and we get to keep our money, babes. What part of that makes you think “nope, overtime sounds better”!?”

Logan was about to go into the technicalities when he chanced a glance back at his soulmates, watching as Patton excitedly gushed over the night’s events, stimming excitedly with their apron while Emile folded his own and put it away for the night, glad to listen to Patton’s bubbly rambling. Logan couldn’t deny, the idea of staying late while his soulmates were home without him wasn’t an appealing idea. Maybe this once he’d spare Remy a lecture.

“.... You know what, you’re right. Excuse me.”

With that, Logan went to join his soulmates while Remy stifled a fond smirk and went to go ask the last patron to leave. He wanted to just go home and collapse into Remus’ arms. Ugh, he just hoped this dude wasn’t going to make a fuss. He wasn’t sure what kind of guy combined a suit, a beanie, shades, AND a face mask, but Remy just hoped he wasn’t here to rob the place.

“Alright sweetie, you gotta go. We’re closing and I wanna get home to my loveable dumbass. Let’s go-”

The man gestured to his ear. Ah. Remy rolled his eyes and leant down to speak closer,

“I said-“

The man quickly pulled down his face mask and stole a peck from Remy, a grin spreading across his face that curled excitedly to match his moustache.

“You gotta get home to meeeee~.”

Remus took off the sunglasses and beanie, revelling in the surprise that painted itself over Remy’s face. He stood up, wrapping his arms around Remy’s waist as his soulmate tried to form a sentence, “How long have you just been sitting here?!”

“Ever since I figured it’d be funny to watch Virgil realise he was trying to set up his own soulmates-”

“You- Wait, Virgil!? That’s the guy you’re always telling me about?!”

“Yep!”, Remus grinned.

Remy wrapped his arms around Remus’ neck, unsure if he wanted to strangle him or hold him closer, “...Did you know he-”

“Had two soulmates? Yep~!”

Remus chuckled and kissed Remy’s cheek, “Virge and I used to have gym together. He kept saying he couldn’t find his soulmarks, I’m surprised he never got my hints...”

Sighing annoyedly at his soulmate, Remy pulled him in for a proper kiss before he could go on more of a tangent. Once they broke apart, Remy poked Remus’ chest, 

“You made me lose thirty bucks, y’know.” 

Remus grinned harder and pulled out twenty dollars  “Well then, I better take this generous donation from my best friend and treat you to a milkshake on the way home then...”

-----

It’s finally doooone!!

This was a long one for sure, but sue me, I got super into this one!!

I’ll be playing catch up for a while so get ready for Day 11, I ended up with a last minute change and it’s gonna be a tear jerker. @tsshipmonth2020

Taglist: @somehow-i-got-an-account @cateye-glasses @fandomsofrandom

[jungxk]

Hello I consider you my south asian big sister on tumblr and I think you’re also British? I am just a typical Indian girl in uk living with my very conservative immigrant parents who moved here nearly 2 decades ago. They are very strict in terms of where I go and what I do outside but they don’t really care about anything else I can do whatever I want at home and I never felt much pressure from them in terms of comparing me to other kids but I did have some indirect academic pressure. Anyways, my parents are strict but also not strict and now I’m moving away to uni, it seems they have a million worries in their head. I am only less than an hour’s train ride away and they’re still scared. I am quite naïve I won’t lie and I am inexperienced with being independent because my parents always coddled me and were very overprotective of me. I guess I don’t have much trust in myself because of that. I do feel anxious about moving away but my main anxiety comes from this dichotomy I am faced with. I have 2 options: 1. Be a good child and not drink or go to nightclubs and stuff 2. Try it out and see how it goes. My mum just recited a monologue on how our family is different from the ones here and that we don’t fit into the culture here. Most of my family is in India and they’re even more conservative and strict especially towards women. My parents themselves practically never go out and don’t have many close friends because they feel like outcasts due to their lack of habits in drinking or just this toxic gossiping culture in the south asian community. It’s hard to come across good people that don’t feel competitive or jealous of the fact that even though my parents were immigrant they managed to settle down here. I can tell my parents are scared that their eldest daughter will come under bad influence and start drinking and having sex. They always treat me like I’m a 5 year old child who doesn’t know anything and needs to be protected. I have never even gone to the gym by myself. We never go to restaurants and i have no idea how to order stuff when you go to one. I know it seems simple but I have never done it before and I don’t know any of the etiquette. It makes me nervous thinking about how I’ll have to socialize like this at uni. But what scared me the most about it that my parents won’t let me go even when I go uni. My dad is a driver and he often goes to London and I know he will drop by every now and then unexpectedly to make sure I am at my dorms not outside. My mum warns me that there are people out there I can’t trust and I will fall into bad company but I have no idea who to trust anymore and now I can’t make friends. When I go to uni I don’t know if I want to give drinking a go because I have never done it before and want to give it a go but I’m scared my parents will find out and I have no idea how I’ll deal with that. All this pressure makes me want to run away but I have no idea how to survive on my own. My parents don’t trust me at all I can tell. And it’s suffocating to see the way they think. When they talk about my 6 year old cousins who are boys, they find it easy to make jokes about how they’ll have girlfriends in no time but when it comes to me their full grown daughter, they won’t even let me go out by myself. I feel so much pressure to do well but I also feel so suffocated. I don’t get why my parents expect to follow the rules from a country I don’t even live in. I’m so tired of it. I don’t know what to do.

hi honey. as your desi big sister this rlly broke my heart to read bc i remember being exactly where you are. i need you to know that almost every daughter of south asian immigrant parents go thru this so you are not alone, you have never been alone, you will never be alone.

now. south asian parents never rlly see their children as people. they never raise their children to be capable and confident adults, just dolls that they keep as trophies and robots. it’s fucked up and wrong i know. but leaving home and making your own opinions about the world is paramount to both you and ur parents understanding that you are a human being with your own preferences, goals and ideals. yes it will be scary, yes you will struggle. the secrets, the arguments, the anxiety. but this is the start of you living your own life for the first time and if you don’t put your foot down now it will only get more difficult in the future. drinking and sex and drugs don’t make you a bad person. it’s a manipulation tactic they use to control you bc they’re scared of you becoming independent and forming your own thoughts. the more desperate they get the worse they will act. but tbh, it doesn’t matter what you do or don’t do bc nothing will ever be enough for them so chasing their approval will get you nowhere.

i don’t know how abusive ur family are so pls familiarise urself with ur rights here in the uk as well as various charities and local safe places you can go to if things go south. when you go to uni have a network of people not connected to ur family who know ur situation and whereabouts at all times. ur safety is the most important thing here. i know it’s terrifying but it’s time to start thinking for yourself and deciding what’s important to you. some asian kids can give it all up, some can’t. but there are ppl out there who will love and support your authentic you, whoever you may be, and the only way to find yourself is to go out and experience the world outside of ur parents/other ppl’s judgments and fears. don’t let their close minds hold you back. wish you all the best baby x

[stonerbughead]

Maria watches friday night lights (#30)

5x07–aka the return of rivalry week, oh my!

under the cut ya go:

Omg Jess wants to work at a football camp?! So precious!

Why is Buddy here with equipment looking for outlets? OMG they’re keeping watch of the field to keep anyone from doing the shit they did with tooth picks and trucks and such last rivalry week?!?! Lmaooo

OMG JASON’S HERE??? I almost forgot about this dude, aw his kid is doing well! That’s lovely. Aw Eric gave him a Lions hat and he’s married and is a successful agent? So proud!

“You know, people are talking about you, there’s a lot of heat.” OMG Jason got a call about Eric?!?! Wow I think I’m starting to see where the endgame is going for this show.

“We ALMOST got the daughter out of the house.” Lol.

Oh geez Vince’s dad being excited makes me nervous. How did he get these nice ass sneakers I am sus

HE GOT IT FROM TMU?? That’s def illegal honey no no

Oh good Vince seems to know he can’t take them. Although I SMELL CONFLICT

Oh god the dad’s moving in permanently? I’m as concerned as Jess is right now.

LionHater.com??? Omg there’s no internet where they’re watching the field. 😂 Oh shit they know about Vince’s record? “He’s got a football team full of violent criminals.” Oh you racists were looking for an excuse to unleash your vitriol on these poor kids who have criminal records bc they weren’t blessed to be born on the “correct” side of town! Smh.

Omg this is racist AF, this website is disgusting 🤦🏻‍♀️

Yes Eric, run into the panthers boosters club and rip them a new one!!!

And yes, Tami, make Julie help out and pay her dad back for the car, absolutely! She needs to face some consequences and not be too comfy at home.

Eric is right, the Panthers are trying to get in their heads—and in the most insidious, racist/classist way possible!

“You think if the colleges see that stuff they’re still gonna call? They’re still gonna want me?” Ohh Vince nooo. Eric saying it’s not gonna matter feels...overly optimistic.

“It doesn’t matter how many games we win, how many touchdowns i throw, all they see is a bunch of thugs, Coach. Everybody thinks it but they never say it.” UGH yes fuck me UP, young Michael B. Jordan! I’m emotional!

Aww Luke and Becky flirting while Becky’s with the baby and Billy is in the backyard training with Luke LOL

Oh god Billy’s advice for Luke wooing Becky by ignoring her is....bad!

Luke didn’t know Mindy works at the landing strip? “She still works there? Part time? Like weekends?” Lol

Luke don’t listen to him! Bad advice!

“Let’s have a barbecue.” “A barbecue?” “A morale-building barbecue.” Lol I love Eric’s disbelief at Tami’s suggestion considering all the drama the last time this bbq happened lol

Omg Jason Street gave a college Eric’s number? OH SHIT for a college HEAD COACH JOB? Damn!

Poor dejected Vince 🥺 “I feel like I’m playing with a fixed deck, Pop.” YOU AREEE ugh

Vince’s dad has been talking to schools all day??? That’s like explicitly what Eric told him not to do omfg

“I ain’t gonna let you fall.” That was a sweet childhood Vince anecdote but I don’t believe Vince’s dad one bit.

Lol Tami is making Julie go shopping for a 300 person BBQ?! Hilarious.

Eric and Tami annoying the living shit out of Julie in the hopes she’ll go back to school seems like a great plan they’re doing here!

This makeshift gym in Billy’s backyard with the baby strapped to his chest drinking while Luke works out I cannot 😂

“Oh some of it didn’t blend correctly” Billy says as Luke pulls a huge leaf out his mouth after drinking his smoothie omfgggg I’m dead

Oh geez Vince’s dad is talking him up to Jason? Wild.

Aw Jess is so nervous about her recommendation letter. Eric called the coach for her? Aw!

“Somewhere you’re comfortable, somewhere that’s a good fit.” Awww Jason that’s a wholesome answer to Vince’s dad being so extra with Coach.

Helppppp this is so cringe, he’s like straight up heckling Eric and his rep as kingmaker.. “You got a problem there, right?” “I sure do.” Jason really is all grown up.

Aw what a nice bbq! Julie and Jason catching up!

Oh god Luke is really straight up ignoring Becky and flirting with Julie??? Ugh I hate this.

Vince’s mom is celebrating too soon about this repaired Vince-dad relationship.

Yes Eric, confront Vince’s dad! It’s time! Now he’s just straight up saying he “doesn’t remember it like that” about the agreement the three of them made. Smh.

Oh geez is Vince’s dad like lowkey threatening Eric 😬

Oh wow Tami is going up to Burleson to get Julie’s assignments and books?! Geez. “While you’re up there why don’t you tell them they’ve got a teacher sleeping around with the students?” TRUE

“Thanks for setting up the bbq and everything. Thanks for what you do, thanks for our two beautiful daughters. Thank you for doing the laundry.” —Eric Taylor, teaching all men how to be a husband. my heart! Lmaooo then he said “do you wanna fool around?” after and then she said yes but fell asleep on him instead I’m dead

AH Tami comes face to face with the TA!!!!!! I literally yelled OH MY GOD when he said he was the TA Derek!!

“I’m here to pick up an independent study for Julie Taylor.” AHHHH “How is she?” YOU DONT HAVE A RIGHT TO KNOW, FUCKFACE!

This is so cringe omfg

Yeah Derek feel bad you preyed on SOMEONE’S DAUGHTER

“I’m gonna mash up every bone in his body.” Lol Luke trying to sound aggressive is so funny.

Luke is being so RUDE to Becky Jesus I hate this

Ew Jason hyping up the Panthers, I get that it’s his team but blech they’re all such douchebags now.

Oh god did Luke act too aggressive? That dude is not getting up....

“Another big hit from Luke Cafferty, who’s bringing the pain.” Lol “these boys just do not like each other.” I mean they don’t call it rivalry week for nothing!

Yeeesh Vince’s dad in the stands with the recruiter watching the game is so cringe, ah!

“Calm down they’re having fun.” Excuse me Billy? I’m taking back all my praise for him from last episode. Grow up Billy god!!!!

Omg Vince is switching the offense bc his dad told him to....? Oh god

“A good ol fashioned Texas butt whooping.”

“There is no love lost here.” “That’s not who we are, Eric.” WHOA identity crisis on the field. These kids were triggered by everyone in town basically calling them thugs which is frankly understandable but WOW

Oh wow Eric is yelling at Vince. Oh shit his dad is in his HEAD. “He’s looking out for me!” then immediately into the “EAST SIDE” chants.

“No I mean like what are you DOING?” Thanks Becky! Luke is acting weird af!!!!!!

“You like it when I’m nice to you???” Luke is genuinely confused. “Ok I’m so sorry. Someone told me if I wanted you to like me, I had to ignore you and blow you off.”

Aw yes they like each other! Cute! KISSSSS! At least something positive happened this episode!

He’s laughing and saying “it totally worked” um no NOT THE CORRECT TAKEAWAY lol

Yesss Tami walking in and revealing she didn’t go to the game by dropping all of Julie’s college books on the coffee table, baller mom move!

“Did you talk to Derek. What did he say?” “You need to study.” LOLSAME Tami, stop thinking about this asshole, Julie!

“All those penalties, all that smack talk.” Damn etiquette really matters! Now coach Taylor’s rep is on the line?!

“Don’t feel like celebrating tonight” says the other old school coach. Damn.

Anddd Vince and his dad are talking to a recruiter openly. Wow! What a show!

[gascon-en-exil]

Mercilessly Judging the Men of Fòdlan: The Alliance

It’s been a long time coming, over eight months in fact, but now that it may be assumed that the last of the DLC has been released and the fandom as a whole has settled comfortably into its various camps I think there’s no better time than now to answer that burning question: how raunchily, outrageously gay can the male cast of Three Houses possibly be? For those unfamiliar with this fun little series of mine, I’ve been applying my extensive knowledge and experience of gay male sex and hookup culture to the men of Fire Emblem, originally as a way of reckoning with the refusal of the games themselves to provide me with any worthwhile self-insert M/M content. I stand by that premise for FE16 - you all know how absolutely nothing appeals to me about m!Byleth or his prospects on that score - but in the years since my first outing of merciless judgment with Awakening that idea has expanded into something broader, an imaginative modern AU of sorts where all these guys are into men (if not always exclusively) and willing to put themselves out there in the lewd and semi-anonymous world of hookup apps in search of their preferred carnal delights.

A note on organization before we begin, as this material is too long to cram into one post. Excluding Byleth (as Avatars and their spawn always are for this project) there are twenty-one playable male characters in Three Houses. This makes for an even threeway division to preserve the eponymous conceit of the game, but not a particularly neat one. Aligned with the Leicester Alliance I therefore have below the male Deer, Almyran and former Goneril indentured servant Cyril, runaway Alliance noble Balthus, and Alois because his biography states that he’s the son of a merchant family. The Alliance is the nation most associated with successful mercantilism, so there.

The Empire

The Kingdom

Claude

Indecipherable from the start. The alluring shirtless selfie and goofy profile read like a fun and easy lay, but rather than sending nudes he engages in long meandering conversations that last for days or weeks before the first meeting. An expert at drawing people out while revealing almost nothing of himself in return, this takes on more literal dimensions when talk and pictures get more explicit; he’ll respond to dick and ass pics with vaguely positive emojis but deflect repeated requests to send some of his own, but he’s so disarmingly chatty that few guys get angry about this. In-person encounters are similarly frustrating in a way that’s hard to convey, as he’s eager to get his hookups naked and cumming via whatever method expedites the process with as little effort on his part. He’s left more than one satisfied but confused partner wondering some time after their meeting if he’s even really into guys at all, or if he’s playing out some weird service kink or vicarious voyeurism. Whatever the case he’s not much the dating type, not because he’s closeted or non-monogamous but because he has other priorities that don’t mesh well with long-term companionship. A shame too, when he’s become a permanent part of the masturbatory fantasies of many a man with whom he’s had even the briefest of encounters (particularly tops, who see in him a cocky bottom who desperately needs to get wrecked). That’s mostly all it is with him though: just fantasies, quick and dirty and unfulfilling because sex is apparently little more than a means for him to connect with people who may help him reach something bigger. Open-minded about his partners’ kinks, but is extremely touchy about race play; he’s aware that he has an ambiguous look about him, and does not appreciate anyone bringing that up even if the intention is completely innocent.

Favored erotic tea time subjects: your erogenous zones, your fetishes, your guilty pleasures

Favored gift: a lavish dinner, not for the expense but for the pleasure of sharing it

Lorenz

You may not like the hair, or the overwrought floral motif, or the polite but pointed way he pursues dates with the men he’s scoping out, but it’s undeniable that his reputation precedes him as someone who is known and who is worth knowing in the community. He’s not as slutty as that suggests, far from it, but he does enjoy his lunch dates and his inordinately expensive shopping dates and generally being as publicly social as it is humanly possible to be. Has an assortment of fem bottom BFFs on speed dial who are always up to the minute with him on social media, but it turns out he’s more versatile than his age and his...expressive fashion sense might imply. Would absolutely love a boyfriend, but judges all his dates in every aspect and considers least of all the size of their dick or what they know to do with it. It’s unusual for him to run across a guy who’s as well-educated and career-oriented as himself who also meets his admittedly snobbish criteria regarding class, and most of the time when he does they make better friends than marriage candidates. Cannot abide poor manners in or out of bed, and has corresponding expectations about proper condom use and prep (also PreP) and won’t hesitate to interrupt a makeout session with a lecture on not fingering him when he just ate an hour ago and he hasn’t had the chance to use an enema yet. Jock types do little for him, although he does have this one celebrity crush of that sort that he holds dear to his heart precisely because it will never, ever happen (although, he does happen to move in adjacent circles....). 

Favored erotic tea time subjects: office sex, hustlers, the tea itself...not like that

Favored gift: his crush’s contact info, also measurements if he can get them

Raphael

His selfies come in two varieties, gym and food, and this perfectly sums him up as a person and a friend and sexual partner. Sociable but not particularly quick-witted, his conversations are filled with emojis and exclamation points and it’s not very long before he’s making invitations to hang out at either his favorite fitness center or one of his many favorite restaurants. Don’t expect much from the latter however, as he favors quantity over quality. Is more or less the perfect boyfriend if you like them big and dumb, and on some level he knows this because he’s clearly comfortable with who he is and the goals he’s set for himself, both in body weight and in life in general. Even nicer, he likes skinny nerds just as much as he likes guys who can hold their own (or even surpass him) during workouts, and he’ll try just about anything once. Not the most skilled at topping or giving head or anything else that demands precision in action, but he’ll always give his best effort anyway. Besides, he makes a great bottom, with enough cushion and stamina to take a really hard pounding and jerk himself to completion in just about the time it takes for him to coax his partner to orgasm. A simple man with simple tastes and an insatiable appetite for food and pleasure and good company, and if it comes to it a sweet and devoted familial sort as well. Doesn’t have much of an imagination for kinks, but the person who shows him how to combine food with sex might be on the receiving end of a marriage proposal right then and there.

Favored erotic tea time subjects: sexy workouts, feeders, power bottoms

Favored gift: food, especially if you get into watching him eat it

Ignatz

Fucking an art student is always a unique experience, and he’s determined not to disappoint. More likely to share pictures of his latest projects than nudes up front, although he welcomes receiving them himself as he’s quick to explain that he draws his influence from all areas of his life. Has a particular fascination with the kind of unintentional eroticism found in certain religious art, which is more likely to be found quietly perplexing than offensive in hookup spaces. Is shy and relatively untested when it comes to sex, and as such he’s a natural fit for tops who love to break in new twinks. Said tops may have to put up with his request to sketch them in the bed or on his sofa afterwards though, because apparently the nude models in his classes just can’t compare to the men who ten minutes prior had their dicks in him. As he gets older and acquires more familiarity with the medium he’ll start to gravitate more toward guys of a similar age and disposition as himself, who can be subjects for his art without the constant demanding to get off. (They still get off with him of course, but he has trouble convincing the less understanding that that’s not his first priority.) Sometimes too he’ll just want someone to cuddle with and tell him that he’s good at what he does and isn’t making any questionable life choices. However, with art being the uncertain career that it is he may find himself one day having to reconcile himself to a sugar daddy to spare him from a mind-numbing day job - or worse, admitting to whatever disapproving relation(s) he’s got that he screwed up his professional prospects and isn’t doing so hot in the dating scene either. Never quite loses his mawkishness in bed, but hopefully he’ll get past his public anxieties with a bit more success. Is not really into the gym bunny types, although they love him to death and he has to admit that all that toned musculature is easy to work with. Keeps the glasses on during sex, or at least until he has an accident with them.

Favored erotic tea time subjects: artistic nudes, sexy statuary, missionary (he likes to watch the top)

Favored gift: a set of professionally done nude selfies, for modeling

Alois

A loving and devoted husband and father, he’s only in the app space because a friend made a joke about them and he just had to check it out. Utterly clueless on the terminology and the rules of etiquette, such as they are, for a place where it’s considered perfectly acceptable to begin conversation with a picture of your erect cock. Needless to say he completely misunderstands the term “daddy” in this context, thinking it naturally applied to him without being aware of all the horny twinks that would be hitting him up as a result. Will eventually be prodded, laughing and blushing the whole time, into taking and sharing some mildly saucy selfies, and the boys go wild for his literal dad bod and hair in just the right places (including on his face; the handlebar variation is a few decades out of date, but that just makes him more endearing in a dorky retro way). It’s not clear initially whether he’s even attracted to men, but after a few months of chatting and swapping pics and perhaps furtively jerking off to the ones he gets he might agree to a discreet encounter or two. Well, they would be discreet if he weren’t always so loud, and if he didn’t always resist everyone’s immediate impulse to shove a dick in his mouth just to get him to shut up by coming up with yet another dumb joke. Doesn’t get much further than the idea of oral anyway, as he’s not the most sexual guy to start with and he can’t quite get past the immature giggling over ass play. Not a bad jerkoff buddy when it’s all said and done provided you can stand all the puns, nor is he all that bad to look at or cuddle with afterwards once he figures out that guys like his hugs too. One can only wonder what his wife thinks of all this.

Favored erotic tea time subjects: (bad) sex jokes, porn, glory holes

Favored gift: links to daddy porn, so he’ll finally figure it out

Cyril

Born into a rough background and forced to get by in some difficult circumstances has left him hardworking to a fault - emphasis on “fault.” His greatest act of teenage rebellion was to be aggressively not rebellious, and he still hasn’t grown out of that mentality as he’s quick to scorn his more carefree and hedonistic peers and wouldn’t even be on the apps at all were he not so privately, guiltily horny all the time. As may be expected this mentality wins him few admirers and even fewer friends, of any age, the more so because he’s inexperienced and still figuring out exactly what he wants from a sexual encounter. Will bottom but has a complex about the implications, but unfortunately most of the guys willing to hook up with him are tops and expect to get it in at least for a little while. Manages better when it comes to swapping head, having experimented with his more adventurous friends in school. His fastidiousness and unusually good eyesight lead him to subconsciously fixate on his partners’ minor bodily blemishes, and since pointing those out never goes over well he’s taking to prefer sex in the dark. He’s absolutely not looking for a daddy and is annoyed at the suggestion, just as much as he’s annoyed by guys who try to turn pillow talk into impromptu therapy sessions regarding his past. Will take a few more years and probably some time away at school to properly find his footing; there’s a no-nonsense if slightly insecure top buried under the fading twinkish exterior, and provided he learns out to mellow out a bit he could be quite popular one day.

Favored erotic tea time subjects: circle jerks, docking, race play (which he feels guilty about)

Favored gift: a cock ring, for those size woes 

Balthus

He was on the wrestling team in school and acquired a notable reputation for his strength and skill in a brawl, although it was also at this time that he realized he was getting hard every time he would throw down with another guy. Deflects this with an exaggerated womanizing demeanor and a blank profile announcing only that he’s looking and saving even the headless torso shot - impressive though that shot is - for messaging. Gets handjobs and blowjobs and occasionally tops, all NSA and very discreet, but his internalized insecurities fortunately do not extend to his partners. This is probably because his preferred types are either closeted muscle bros like himself or self-confident young bottoms with no patience to take anything from him except a hard fuck and a thick load. His awkward younger days will be long past him before he learns to open up to anything more than that, and even then it’s unlikely that he’ll be very relationship-minded. Has to be educated by more experienced partners on lube and prepping a bottom, and it’ll take a lot of drinks and a lot of convincing to get him to try eating ass (he will though, eventually). Bottoming himself is out of the question except perhaps with the most dedicated of vers guys, but put him on the mat with another total top and there are good odds that someone’s going to end up penetrated before it’s over. Speaking of odds, is terrible with money and not domestic in the slightest, but he’s got a rich family that he can theoretically fall back on in a pinch. Not really boyfriend material, more like the ideal perpetually naked roommate with wandering eyes and a boundless libido.

Favored erotic tea time subjects: erotic wrestling, dirty talk, praise kink

Favored gift: a harness and matching jockstrap, he’s got a thing for gear

[enragedbees]

Wretched/Deluded

Pairing: Prinxiety, side Logicality

Summary: As Virgil helps Logan get ready for a date, he reminisces back to when they first met in high school.

Warnings: Swearing (If I missed anything, please let me know!)

Words: 3030

Song rec: Factories by Autoheart (This is less of a theme for this chapter, but more of the theme I’m using for the fic in its entirety!)

A huge thanks to the lovely @fall-sunflowers for being my beta reader!!

Taglist: @xionbean @thenewlarislynn @emo-disaster @darkstrange-son @starwarsdestroyedme

I love reading your comments! Please let me know what you think! :)

Read the companion to this story!

Next

——————————————-

Chapter 1: To Put Together Me

         ~ -222 days from The Beginning ~

Virgil heard the front door of his apartment slam shut.

        He switched the tab on his laptop from Tumblr to LinkedIn and got up from the couch, leaving the screen open and facing out as if to prove that he’d been doing what he was supposed to. His roommate walked through the kitchen, grinning.

        “Hey.” Virgil walked across the room and leaned against the wall. “You look happy.”

        “I am.” Logan opened the refrigerator and grabbed a water bottle. “I have a date tonight.”

        Virgil grinned. “You finally asked that guy you met?”

        “‘Finally’ seems rather melodramatic. I waited a perfectly reasonable amount of time before asking him out.” Logan cracked his water bottle open. “I’ve only known him for two weeks.”

        “And for two weeks you haven’t stopped talking about him.”

        Logan rolled his eyes. He took a drink and set the bottle down. “How goes the job hunt?”

        Virgil grimaced and sat back down on the couch. “I can’t find anything worthwhile.”

        “Maybe I can ask Patton tonight if he knows of anyone who’s hiring.” Logan offered. “He knows the city well.”

        Virgil scoffed. “You can’t ask that on a first date. He’ll think that’s the only reason you took him out.”

        Logan’s eyes widened. “Okay, I won’t.”

        Virgil grabbed his laptop. “When are you picking him up?”

        Logan checked his watch. “About two and a half hours.”

        “And what are you wearing?”

        Logan looked down at what he had on. “I was just going to wear this.”

        Virgil stopped. “You’re kidding, right?”

        “No. What’s wrong with it?”

        Virgil shook his head, eyes wide. “You can’t wear your daytime clothes on a date! Especially not when he’s already seen you in them that day. Do you want to look like you don’t care about going out with him?”

        “Well, obviously, not,” muttered Logan.

        Virgil sighed loudly and stood up. ”Come on, I’ll find you something.” He clasped Logan on the shoulder. “I guess some things never change.”

        Logan rolled his eyes, but he was smiling. “It’s not like I’m helpless without you.”

“You’d like to think that, wouldn’t you?” Virgil lightly pushed against Logan into his room and started to rifle through Logan’s closet.

~

        ~ -3110 days from The Beginning ~

Virgil Terek had no friends.

        And he was okay with that. He enjoyed being alone.

        It’s not like he wasn’t likable. He wasn’t an outcast. People were nice to him and he was polite back.

        Virgil just didn’t make an effort to put himself near other people. If he auditioned for the school musical, he’d be immediately adopted by the theater kids. Same with choir, or art, or any kind of sport, all things he could excel at. He simply didn’t want to.

        Virgil didn’t want to join a group where he’d always be on the outside. He might have had a couple friends, but he was too far behind to ever be a part of some tight-knit collection of people who had been in that club together since childhood. Virgil would sit with them at lunch, hang out with them on the weekends, go to their birthday and graduation parties. But they wouldn’t ask to work with him on group projects in class. They wouldn’t pick him for their team in gym. Every time they made plans, it would be, “Oh, and you can come too, if you want, Virgil.”

        And it was far too dangerous to have a single best friend, instead of a group of people. Virgil would never depend so much on one person. He’d just get hurt when they left for someone else.

        Virgil was happy where he was. At lunch he sat in silence with the other kind-of-loners like him and did homework. At home, he read or wrote or listened to music or watched television or dicked around on his phone. Virgil was content.

        The lack of friends eliminated distractions from what really mattered to Virgil. He could focus on what he wanted to do, and never had to worry about not having enough free time to do it.

Virgil Terek entered the ninth grade with complete indifference. By that point, he had learned his place in the world. As long as he maintained his grades and took all his required courses and interacted with his parents every once in awhile, nobody bothered him. He was free.

        And Virgil had never had a problem maintaining his grades. Being categorized as a “gifted student” sometime in elementary school, he never struggled with completing an assignment or needed to study for tests. Virgil was placed in the advanced classes throughout elementary and middle school and had no problem breezing through them without trying or even enjoying it.

        He took Geometry CP freshman year because it was the logical next step. He had no idea how much different an advanced high school course was from an advanced middle school course. When Virgil didn’t immediately understand a concept, he didn’t ask for help. When he only halfway understood the quadratic formula or didn’t memorize the order of the postulates and theorems, he didn’t study, because he had never had to before, and everything worked out on its own. Virgil started getting the worst test grades he had ever received in his life.

        A few weeks into the course, he was barely pulling a D+. His parents and teacher kept getting on his case, Virgil didn’t know how to fix his grades, and he felt his freedom slipping away.

        Other students complained near him about doing poorly, but their worst was always a grade Virgil would kill to have again. And the most annoying part was the new student in his class who never complained, who never was unprepared or confused, who seemed to have already mastered every topic in the course yet participated and accomplished classwork with vigor like it was the most interesting thing going on in his life.

        Over the course of a few weeks, Virgil saw his irrational hatred of the kid intensify. Every time he got a poor test grade or failed assignment, he grew angrier at the kid who had no problems with the material. Everything about him annoyed Virgil. He was a freshman who had just moved into town, and he was still better than Virgil. He was very tall and very thin, which should have made him awkward, but he wasn’t. He dressed every day like he was going to work, tie and all. He spoke so professionally, almost robotically. He was stuck up and arrogant and took every chance he could to correct someone. But he had an A+ in Geometry.

        Virgil, slumped at his desk in class while the teacher passed back their most recent tests, let these thoughts stew. He begrudgingly took the paper his teacher handed back to him, upside down and folded, with a stern but encouraging glance in Virgil’s direction. Virgil grimaced and turned it over.

        A big red D- sat leeringly at the top of the page. Virgil sighed. He looked to the front of the room at the new kid, who was flipping through the test, observing it with noticeable interest, looking over the unmarked pages before setting it back on the desk with an obvious A+ at the top.

        Virgil rolled his eyes to himself. None of his closest acquaintances were in the same math class, and he didn’t feel comfortable asking the sophomores and juniors in the period for help. This kid who didn’t know Virgil and therefore, didn’t have a reason to turn him away, might have been Virgil’s only chance to get his life back to normal.

        He groaned inwardly. He wished he had another option.

        When the period ended, Virgil walked up to the kid, who was packing up his backpack.

        “Hey, how’d you do on the test?” Virgil asked. He hated small talk, but he was about to ask a complete stranger for help, and Virgil felt that he at least owed it to the kid.

        “I got one-hundred percent,” answered the boy. Virgil resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

        “Cool. I didn’t do so well.” Virgil slung his backpack over his shoulder and they walked out of the classroom. “I’m Virgil, by the way.”

        The kid furrowed his brow. “Like the poet? What kind of a name is that?”

        Virgil glared at him. He decided didn’t need straight A’s that badly. “Alright, fuck off.” He started to walk away.

        “Wait, I’m sorry.” The other boy at least looked sheepish. “I don’t have much of a filter or an understanding of social etiquette. I tend to speak whatever I’m thinking without realizing the effects of what I say.”

        Jesus, this kid. Virgil was sure he had just recited that from a textbook he picked up somewhere. He sighed. “Okay. I don’t think that makes it better, though.”

        The kid stuck his hand out. “Pleased to meet you, Virgil. My name is Logan Schlenke.”

        Virgil gingerly shook his hand and they continued down the hallway. “Okay, so here’s the deal. I’m kind of doing really badly in Geo and I can’t help but notice that you know what you’re doing.” He sighed. “Is there any way you can help me when I don’t understand what’s going on?”

        “You want me to tutor you?” asked Logan. “Sure, I can do that.”

        “It’s not tutoring, I just want a little help with the content.”

        “That would be called tutoring,” Logan offered.

        “No, I don’t need –” He stopped himself and gritted his teeth. “Fine, whatever, call it tutoring,” Virgil muttered. He bit his lip. “But you’ll do it?”

        Logan stopped. He looked at Virgil thoughtfully. “I’ll help you under one condition.”

        “Seriously?” Virgil groaned. “What is it?”

        “It’s become evident to me that in order to have a productive and enjoyable high school career, one must be on good terms with their classmates,” Logan said. “I’ll help you understand Geometry if you help me to understand how to interact with people.”

        Virgil raised an eyebrow. “I don’t think I’m your best choice to learn people skills, man. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I kind of keep to myself and don’t talk to anybody else.”

        “That’s not true,” Logan commented. “I’ve seen you talking with lots of people and everyone likes you. Besides, I don’t want or need actual friends. I just need to get along with the other students in the school.”

        Damn. This kid. Virgil was already regretting the decision. There had to be an easier way to pass Geo.

        He let out a breath. “Okay. I’ll help you.”

        Logan stuck his hand out again, and Virgil shook it. “It’s a deal,” Logan smiled.

        The two exchanged contact information, and Logan walked into his next class, leaving Virgil shaking his head in the hallway.

        Over the next few days, Logan went to Virgil’s house after school and worked with him on the content they learned in class.

        “Your main problem seems to be that you never learned how to study,” Logan noted. “If you practice teaching yourself the concepts you don’t understand in class, soon you won’t need someone to reteach it to you.”

        Virgil scoffed. “Why should I teach myself something when there’s a teacher getting paid to do it?”

        “Teachers or other professionals are useful to help explain a concept to students. Not all teaching styles work on everyone, so sometimes it’s necessary to find out how you learn best and teach it to yourself,” Logan explained, maintaining a remarkable amount of patience. “You should also pay attention in class more often.”

        Virgil tried to help Logan interact in social situations, but he had no idea how to teach him, or if any of what he knew would work for Logan. Logan tried his best, though, putting the same effort into studying people skills that he did in his schoolwork.

        “So, maybe, when you want to say something, just…don’t, for a bit. Until you think it over and decide it’s an acceptable thing to say,” Virgil offered.

        Logan’s eyes narrowed. “You don’t think I’ve tried that?”

        Virgil rolled his eyes. “Look, dude, I’m not really sure how it works for you, anyway. But if you want people to like you, you can’t say things that make you look like an asshole. Just…calibrate, I guess.”

        Logan’s eyebrow raised, but he said nothing. He jotted something down in a notebook.

        “And you have to lose the tie.”

        “Why?” asked Logan, genuinely confused.

        “Nobody wears ties to school unless they have to dress up. Don’t you own, like, a single t-shirt or something?”

        Horror flashed across Logan’s face. “Why would I wear a t-shirt to school?”

        “So you look like a normal human teenager and not a child trying to run for president.”

        Logan pursed his lips but wrote in his notebook again.

        Virgil took a breath. “Tomorrow, try wearing jeans, a nice t-shirt, and an unzipped hoodie. And brush your bangs forward a bit, your hair doesn’t have to all be going in the same direction.”

        Logan looked at Virgil like he had told Logan to wear nothing but a bathrobe to school, but he wrote it all down.

        And the next day, Logan walked up to Virgil at his locker, wearing skinny jeans with a brown belt, a long-sleeve gray and white raglan, and a green hoodie. He had his hair swept to the side, falling gently over his forehead, just high enough so it didn’t impede his vision.

        “Whoa.” Virgil grinned at Logan.

        Logan smiled sheepishly back, hands in the pockets of his hoodie. “I feel ridiculous.”

        “You look great, man,” said Virgil. And he really meant it. He could already feel a difference in the energy surrounding Logan. He could feel the other students no longer seeing him as an outlier or a stranger, but as someone who could be anyone else in the school. He’s one of us, they seemed to think out loud.

        And, for the first time, Virgil realized that Logan was actually a really attractive guy. He just hadn’t known how to express himself. For some reason, Logan had tried to confine himself to a professional, more mature style. But in this outfit, he looked comfortable, relaxed, more laid-back and easygoing. Though he was almost definitely nervous of switching up his style so suddenly, Virgil could see in the way he carried himself that Logan felt more like himself in this outfit, not trying to prove to everyone that he’s someone he’s not.

        They began walking down the hallway. “The most important thing about wearing this today is being confident in it. It won’t have as much of an impact if you doubt yourself.” Virgil said. “I know it’s a big change, but you’ve got to believe that you do look good.”

        “You told me I did,” Logan said. “I have no reason to distrust you.”

        As they walked, a few kids in the opposite direction smiled or nodded hello to Logan. He smiled back

        “How do you feel?’ Virgil asked.

        “I feel good.” Logan nodded. “I had no idea how much something as small as what I wore could have an effect on how I’m perceived.”

        “You’re already starting to seem like a real person to the others,” Virgil smiled. “Keep this up and I’d bet anything you could get any girl in the school.”

        Logan laughed out loud. “We’ll see. How did you do on the pop quiz in Geometry yesterday?”

        “I got a B,” Virgil grinned.

        “Well, that’s certainly an improvement, but I know you can do more. Are you free again this afternoon?”

        Virgil sighed. God forbid he be proud of less than his best. “Yeah, my place again?”

        Logan nodded and turned into his first period classroom for the day.

        As the days passed, Virgil slowly grew more confident in his abilities to learn and understand things himself. He noticed that he started asking questions in class when he was lost, and he noticed seeing Logan smirk with pride every time.

        Logan slowly grew more accustomed to social interaction. His robotic syntax and word choice didn’t change, but with the change in style, it began to seem quirky and intelligent rather than just arrogant. And though he still, with nothing but good and helpful intentions, corrected anyone who was wrong about anything, Virgil helped him to do it without making the other person feel stupid. Logan made friends, built connections, and started making a place for himself in the school.

        Virgil soon became confident in his ability to study and learn things on his own, which was a huge source of pride for him. He didn’t think he’d ever be able to properly study. As one last benchmark, Logan went an entire chapter without tutoring or explaining anything to Virgil.

        At the end of the chapter, his teacher handed him his test, upside down, with a pleased smile. Virgil turned over the paper to see a 96% A crowning the top.

        Virgil ran up to Logan at the end of the class as they walked out together. “I can’t believe I did it!”

        Logan grinned. “Congratulations.”

        “Man, I could not have done this without you. Thank you so much for everything,” said Virgil.

        “You’re welcome.”

        Virgil pulled his phone out. “Do you want to come over today? I have to text my mom but I know she’ll be fine with it.”

        Logan furrowed his eyebrows. “Is there another class you’re having trouble with?”

        “What?” Virgil looked up at him. “No, no. Not for studying. Just to hang out.”

        Logan raised his eyebrows.

        “Like, for fun?” Virgil continued.

        Logan’s face lit up. “Okay. Sure.”

        He turned and walked away, beaming. As Virgil watched him go, a realization hit him. He had been trying for so long to get his life back to normal, back to being alone and untethered. But now, he’d never be able go back to that life.

        “Goddamn,” he muttered.

        Virgil Terek had one friend.

        He walked away, shaking his head and laughing at himself, but unable to keep a smile off his face.

[sometimesiwrite]

Dump It Out

A scene for two—originally written as Man (M) and Woman (W) but could be any gender with some textual adjustments. I wrote this years ago as an exercise to challenge myself to write conflict (I’m very bad with conflict. Writing it, or engaging in it) and I’m pretty proud of what came out. Enjoy!

Content notes: Coarse language, arguing with ex, ex lives close by, alcohol, smoking, discussion of cunnilingus/inability to climax, brief reference to infidelity, the general angst of trying to stay on good terms post-relationship.

Scene1:

M and W. Apartment living room. A ticking clock is heard.

W: So.

M: So...

(Pause)

W: That’s it? “So”? That’s all you’re going to say to me?

M: I guess so.

W: ...Can I have my book, please?

M: You’ll have to be more specific, there were so many books.

W: Come on, don’t—

M: On the stairs, on the bedroom floor, in the kitchen, on top of the TV under the TV…

W: I forgot how petty you are…

M: In the bed, let’s not forget. Christ, I think you spent more time with those books than you actually spent with me. In bed.

W: Well, maybe if you had bothered to brush your teeth before you came to bed it would have been a different story.

M: And here I thought true love was supposed to defeat evil and transcend bad breath.

W: Well, the storybooks were wrong.

M: I don’t know, it depends which stories you read.

(Pause)

W: Can I please have my book back?

M: If you can find it.

W: What?

M: If you can find it, you can have it.

W: I thought you had it.

M: I do.

W: But you don’t know where it is?

M (lights a cigarette): No clue.

W: Come on, I know you have it.

M: Clearly not since you keep asking me for it.

W: Well, I don’t know where it is, though, do I?

(M shrugs)

W: Oh my God, you don’t have it. I swear if you tossed it—

M: I haven’t done anything with it since you lent it to me. Can you please stop rifling through my things? My things that I have in specific places for a reason.

W: Calm down, it’s just your obsessive compulsive disorder talking.

M: I’m not OCD, I’m tidy. There’s a difference. I like to keep all my books in one place.

W: You can push my buttons all you want, I’m just here for one thing.

M: You sure about that?

W: Why, did you hoard other things of mine that I don’t know about?

M: I know, to prevent you from turning my place upside down, we could look for it together.

W: Please for the love of God let’s not do this together.

M: Come on, it’ll be fun!

W: Uh-huh, just like the grocery shopping, and breakfast, and lunch breaks, and going out with friends, and going to the gym, and going to the dentist, and getting our hair cut, and going to bed. You’re right, how could I forget that every single thing in my life was a million times more fun when we did it together!

M: Can’t blame a guy for trying to foster a stronger connection.

W: You came with me to the gynaecologist!

M: It’s an intrusive process, I wanted to be supportive.

W: It’s private! You didn’t even ask if you could come with me, you just showed up.

M: I wanted to surprise you!

W: It was humiliating!

M: I was being a good partner.

W: No, you were feeding an obsession and it’s weird.

M: I forgot how hard you can pull away when you want to.

W: Yeah, because I like to do things on my own.

M: If by “things” you mean literally everything.

W: Can I just have my book, please?

M: It’s in the house.

W: But you have no idea where it is.

M: Oh my God, you’re so intuitive. It’s like you can read my mind. Whoa, get outa my head—

W: Fuck off.

M: I thought I had.

W: Yup. Almost. Now where’s my book?

M: Which one? The book you were fucking? I told you, if you can find it, you can have it. I’m not putting in anymore effort so you can cheat on me with half a tree.

W: This isn’t some game, just give me the book and I’ll get out of your precious space.

M: Mmmm such spacious space.

W: Damnit. Tell me where my book is.

(Silence)

W: Do you have any idea where it might be?

M: I think it’s... Okay, yeah,  sorry, I remember now… it’s definitely somewhere in the house

W: Well, are you going to help me look for it, or are you just going to sit there snarking into your cigarette while I go through your stuff longing for the day when your lungs finally collapse out of rebellion against your constant abuse and you slowly suffocate to death?

M: Wow.

W: Sorry.

M: That came out of left field.

W: Can I have my book back?

M: No.

W: Excuse me?

M: You don’t want it back.

W: Yes, I do.

M: Then buy a new copy. It’s not old, so it wasn’t a rare find. It’s barely flipped through, so you obviously didn’t use it that often (also, if you did, you wouldn’t have lent it to me in the first place).

W: That’s not the point.

M: Then what?

W: It’s my book and I want it back.

M: And you wanted to see me again.

W: Don’t be pathetic.

M: Oh, come on! If you really didn’t want to see me ever again for as long as I live — as you put it — you could have said, “forget it, I can live without that book” and never seen me again. This is classic you.

W: Excuse me? “Classic me?”

M: You want to talk about something but are afraid of being vulnerable and just saying, “Hey, honey, can we talk?” so you cook up some excuse to meaninglessly argue nothing until you can covertly segue into the thing you actually wanted to talk about in the first place.

W: For your information, even though it’s NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS, I have an audition next week, and I need one of the monologues from it.

M: So Google it! Go to the library! I mean, Jesus, if you want to see me, see me, but don’t bullshit around with an excuse. It’s impolite.

W: I have a bunch of notes in there from the last time I worked on it and it’s the only copy I have.

M: Oh.

W: Yeah.

M: I didn’t know that.

W: Clearly.

(Silence).

W: Could I bum a drag off that?

M: No, you cannot! I swear I only ever smoked half my own cigarettes. “Can I have a drag?/Sure babe, no problem” Then, five seconds later: “Can I have another drag?”

W: …Can I have a whole one?

M: Only if you keep it to yourself.

W: I’m confused on whether that was a yes or a no…

M: Go on, then, help yourself.

W: Thanks.

M: Probably yours anyway.

W lights a cigarette.

M: You still not inhaling?

W: You still drinking your whisky with mix?

M: Touché.

W: Thank you!

M: You always did have the best comebacks, babe. I’ll give you that.

W: You set ‘em up, I’ll take the shot.

M: Cheap shots.

W: Best kind there is.

M: Boy, you’re something else, you know that?

W: So you used to tell me.

M: I still mean it.

(Pause)

W: You’re not so bad yourself.

(Silence)

M: I’ll be back in a second.

M exits. W sits for three seconds. Stubs out cigarette. Rises. Leaves. M re-enters.

M: Well, well, well, look what I… found…

Lights fade to black

Scene 2 M and W. An apartment livingroom—different from, the same as, or similar to, the one previous. A ticking clock is heard.

A vigorous knock on the door. W rises, goes to the door, opens it. M pushes in.

W (facetiously): Hi, honey, nice to see you too, please, come on in, make yourself at home—get out of my apartment!

M: What the hell was that?!

W: What?

M: What do you mean “what”?

W: I mean, “what?” as in “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

M: Gee honey, where should I start. Maybe let’s start with you leaving my apartment without saying a single word.

W: You left first.

M: That’s an old card and you’ve already played it once.

W: Oh, come on. What’s the big deal?

M: The big deal is you don’t get to do that anymore. It’s common human courtesy to let someone know when you’re leaving their living space.

W: Why? Never seemed to bother you.

M: Oh my God, I’m not getting into that right now. It’s just something people do.

W: Like who?

M: EVERYONE.

W: Like I said, you left first. What did you expect.

M: I was out of town for five days. I came back; you moved across the hall.

W: No, you were gone for months. Sure, you were there but you weren’t there.

M: You know, I’ve always had trouble understanding you when you’re too straightforward. Could you be a little more vague for me?

W: Go ahead, snark it off. Avoid the actual topic by manufacturing confrontation that doesn’t need to be there.

M: Arguments are more fun than conversation.

W: Okay, fine, whatever! You win! Just try to keep your voice down.

M: Never bothered you before.

W: That’s because I was the one yelling.

M: Oh, what, so I’m not allowed to yell?!

W: No, not in my apartment.

M: Why should I give a fuck what I do or do not do in your apartment? You clearly don’t care what you do in mine!—Or who—Here, want a cigarette? Mind if I smoke?

W: I cannot believe you are being so childish about this one, meaningless—

M: —Mmmm the sweet smell of tar and rat poison—

W: —Minuscule lapse in social etiquette.

M: So you admit that it wasn’t normal.

W: Yes. Fine. Could you put that out, please? 

M: Then why did you do it? Why did you do it if it wasn’t normal?

W: Drop it.

M: No.

W: I wasn’t thinking clearly.

M: Not buying it. No one forgets to tell someone they’re leaving.

W: Wanna bet?

M: Stay on topic.

W: I thought I was.

M: Why?

W: I didn’t want to be there anymore.

M: And?

W: That’s it.

M: Nope.

W: Stop it.

M: You said you came to get your book.

W: Yeah.

M: You left without it.

W: So?!

M: So you couldn’t have wanted it that badly.

W: Maybe I changed my mind.

M: No. No, no, no, no, no, you wanted an excuse to see me.

W: God you’re pathetic.

M: Okay, yes. Yes I am, I’m pathetic. You didn’t want to see me AND you didn’t want your book. Se ya!

W: Let the door hit you in the ass on your way out.

M: It doesn’t close on its own.

W: Fuck you!

(Pause).

W opens the door without looking at M.

W: I wanted the book so I went over to get it; I started feeling weird and wanted to leave so I did. Now are you going to start acting like an adult and give me my book and maybe, just maybe, leave me alone?

M steps back into the entranceway.

M: See? What wasn’t so hard, was it? This is the one you wanted, right?

W: Yeah. Thanks.

M: Happy to help. Anyway, I’d better—

W: You want a beer?

M: It’s three o’clock in the afternoon.

W: Nevermind.

M: I didn’t say no.

W goes into kitchen, returns with beer for both.

M: Is there anything you want to say to me?

W: I don’t want to talk about things. Not right now, anyway, I’m too pissed off.

M: Why am I drinking a beer in your living room, then?

W: Because I don’t want it in my fridge.

M: And why’s that?

W: You bought it.

M: Then why didn’t you just throw it out? Pour it down the toilet?

W: Because I didn’t. Jesus, why does every little thing I do have to mean something?!

M: I’m just saying, why keep it if you don’t want it?

W: Listen. Stop it. Whatever it is that you’re doing, or hoping, or wanting, just stop it. Right now.

M: Tell me about work.

W: What?

M: You know, work? That thing you do to make money. I’m trying to make small talk, here, cut me some slack.

W: It’s shit.

M: Oh ya?

W: Yeah.

(Silence).

W: You know those little bottles of hot sauce they have on the tables there?

M: I always thought they were kinda cute. Made me feel like a giant.

W: Yeah, me too until I spent an entire shift refilling them and hand washing the caps.

M: Now, who wouldn’t love that.

W: Best part is, I went to take a shower that night when I got home and my bathroom still smells like cayenne pepper.

M: I thought you were going to find a new job somewhere better. What happened with that other place you applied to?

W: Apparently my tits aren’t big enough.

M: Your tits are perfect.

W: They told me I didn’t fit the “overall aesthetic standards”

M: Bullshit. And I should know, I’ve spent quality time with your overall aesthetic.

W: Knock it off.

M: I’m just saying, you’re a very attractive woman. I’m allowed to still think that.

W: Thank you… I hate this. It feels like I never get to be myself anymore, everything’s an audition for something.

M: Not everything is an audition, you know.

W: It’s easier said than done. Everything feels like a new role to play, like everybody needs something different from me.

M: You realize it’s not suppose to be that way with everyone, right?

W: What?

M: Well… Ah, I shouldn’t get into this now.

W: No, go on, say it.

M: When we were together I could never get you to follow… I could— never get you to, well, come with me.

W(offended): Well maybe if you bothered to focus on someone other than yourself—

M: No, no, no I tried everything. I don’t think you realize just how hard I tried to get you there.

W: Oh come on, it’s not like you never had any hangups yourself.

M: It’s biology, it happens sometimes—you know what, no, leave my dick out of this, he has nothing to do with it.

W: It’s not a person!

M: It may as well be, it feels just as confused and unsatisfied as I do with our current situation.

W: How?!

M: Do you have any idea how frustrating it is living across the hall from a woman you are still wildly attracted to despite the whirlwind of domestic dysfunction that follows in her wake? Every day, I go down to check the mail, and I can smell that you’ve just gone out. It’s like this cloud of you that hovers outside my door every time I go anywhere. Poof! There you are, and suddenly I’m having some Vietnam-style flashback and we’re in bed together and I’m stuck with my head between your legs and you’ve just got this vacant expression in your eyes and I’m trying to talk to you, trying to get some sort of response: more hands, less hands, faster, slower, a green light, a red light, anything. Do you have any idea what you’ve done to me? I’ve got months worth of Cosmo issues hidden under my bed. I’ve got seventeen tabs open on my computer about the complexities of the female orgasm and the importance of partner communication during oral sex (by the way, did you know that the Swiss have a completely different technique?). I now know more about the anatomy of female sex organs and hormone cycles than most med school graduates! If the police raided my apartment, I’d probably be put on some sort of registry!

W: I know how frustrated you were with the fact that I have trouble. And I knew you were trying hard because every single time, all I could feel was you wanting to get me off. It stopped being about us having fun and feeling good and just started being about how badly you needed me to have an orgasm so you could feel validated as a partner. And God help me, I tried to make it up to you, and I did a damn good job if I say do so myself.

M: Here’s a life tip for you: if you’re going to be with someone long enough for them to know your habits, don’t run lines when you’re trying to get him off.

W: That was one time—

M: And if you weren’t running lines, you were a completely different person. I would look into your eyes and see a stranger, you even felt like a stranger, it was weird.

W: It still worked, didn’t it? You got what you wanted, what’s the big deal?

M: Jesus, I wanted connection, I wanted for us to actually be together with each other. It was never about me just getting off to you—oh my God is that—What is wrong in your head that could ever make you think that that was what I wanted?

W: How much more connection do you need?! We spent every free second together. Every day. Every night. There I was, connecting with you.

M: You were always somewhere else, though. Somewhere in that book, in one of your monologues, in one of your audition rooms, with one of your directors… You were never just with me. There was always something or someone else in the room with us.

W: Well maybe I didn’t want to be the person who was with you.

(Pause)

M: You want to rethink the wording on that? Because that is one hell of a bomb to drop.

W: I don’t know.

M: You actually meant that.

W: I think so, yeah.

M stands

M: I’m going to leave now.

W: Okay.

M: Thanks for the beer.

W: You can take the rest, I don’t want it.

M: Dump it out.

W: Okay.

N: If you need to get anything else from my place, I’ll be at Tom’s for the next two days. I’ll leave the key in the mailbox.

W: I’m really sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you.

M: Don’t wear any perfume if you go in.

W: Can you stay for a bit? We can talk this out.

M: No, we can’t. I need to be alone right now. I’ll see ya around.

(W remains seated. M exits) (A few moments of silence) (Fade to Black)

[deadhouseplant]

Love working out, don’t really like my gym

This is not where I usually post this kind of stuff, but I was just so irritated that I needed to vent. Why does nobody understand gym etiquette at my apartment complex? I think that everyone should feel welcome in a gym no matter what point in your fitness journey you’re at. THAT BEING SAID, if you act like an entitled ass and are being generally gross or putting people in danger, you deserve any weird looks you’re getting. Most of the time it was this...couple? Maybe? that came in and were working out together. I wouldn’t normally complain so much but I see them in the gym all the time and they’re always just the WORST.

1:If you walk into the gym and see me input settings to start a routine on the arc-trainer... Don’t get pissy and glare at me from a few treadmills down because I didn’t immediately get off for you. There was one right next to me that works perfectly fine, or just do something else until I’m off so you and your friend can go together. Everyone is here for their own thing, nobody is going to cater to your whims because you want something or it’s part of your routine. Guess what? If I’m on it, it probably means it’s part of mine too.

2: If you want a machine that someone is near... Not even on, just near. Don’t just stand there and stare at them, and assume they know what you want. Especially since nothing was actually stopping you from using the machine, I wasn’t even close enough to affect you using in in any way. Say “excuse me” like an adult if you really want that six feet of buffer space instead of four.

3: wipe down the benches. Please for the love of GOD, WIPE DOWN THE BENCHES YOU WERE USING. I didn’t want to turn around and see you with half your butt hanging out and then see you plant it on the bench. Sometimes people don’t feel their pants slip, whatever I get it, but holy fuck WIPE THE BENCH DOWN AFTER. I saw you pull your pants back up so you KNOW you had your bare ass on that bench, that’s fucking disgusting for you to not wipe it down when you were finished.

4: No seriously wipe down the fucking bench. You made the whole room smell like BO the second you walked in and you didn’t even start working out yet. I get that you might not be able to control that but you’ve GOTTA wipe down the bench. Even if your ass was fully covered and you didn’t have any BO you still need to wipe the bench down when you're done. You’re telling me you can do this whole workout routine, but can't walk like 15ft to grab the cleaner and a paper towel? Really?

5: Take whatever personal issues you have and leave them at the door. I don’t know why you feel the need to glare at me while I’m trying to do my workout but it’s not appreciated. Sorry I didn’t get off the machine you wanted as soon as you walked in, but you could’ve taken those 30 minutes you were staring daggers into my back and gotten on the machine that was free the rest of the time you were at the gym. If you don’t like that I’m there working out, tough shit. I really don’t know what your problem is with me seeing as how we’ve never spoken? But just judging by how you looked pissed at some of the other girls in the room, something tells me it’s personal.

6: Don’t step over me... What the fuck? Were you even thinking? There is like 3 feet of space on all sides of me to walk around... And this is the area for people to do floor workouts. DO NOT walk over me carrying weights. I’m sorry I accidentally tripped you, but you shouldn’t have been stepping over my legs, behind me, where I CAN’T see you, while I’m in a plank. I shouldn’t have to ask for a “behind you” warning because you shouldn’t be carrying weights OVER other people at all! It’s incredibly dangerous!

[littlemulattokitten]

Dating App Conundrums

Alright so I’ve been planning to do this for a while, and may make a thing out of it just to chronicle the adventure from single to hopefully not, but who knows. 

Basically I decided to research a few dating apps and try them out, since I’m the type of person who’s content to stay home, but also only likes going out with a friend or small group (not alone) - therefore my chances of meeting people are probably in the negatives without dating services like the ones I’m currently on.

This post will probably end up being both a review of some of these apps as well as a master shitpost detailing the adventures of a straight female attempting to find a straight male to date online. And I know Tumblr well enough that at least half the people who read this will have yet another reason to be proud of their not straight orientation. Because good fucking lord the nonsense I’ve seen.

Storytime begins below the cut. This isn’t going to be short. That’s your warning. It will probably be funny at some points though. It’s funny to live it, at least. And I may break it into parts, Idk yet.

Let’s get a few things out of the way first.

Until this experiment, I’d never used dating apps ever. I knew of them. Hated them on principle (dislike them even more now, but we’ll get into that later) and wanted nothing to do with them. I knew a few people who were happily married to a Match.com or OKCupid match but aside from that – I’d never even downloaded Tinder like everyone else I knew in HS and college.

I haven’t actually dated anyone since my first semester of college. On purpose. I broke off my engagement to my elementary school sweetheart (thankfully we are still good friends and our friendship recovered from that near disaster) and I just wanted to focus on myself for a while.

The small handful of relationships I have had that lasted longer than 6 months taught me a lot about what I want in my ideal mate. The one or two less-than-6-months-barely-relationships I had in high school taught me A LOT about what I will never put up with from people.

My “type” isn’t reflective of my dating history. I’ve gotten to the point with these apps where I’m combining their shallow-indorsing metrics with my own personal preferences. Basically going through an aesthetic checklist then scanning through their profile to see if the actual person is equally pretty.

Spoiler, I have to swipe left A LOT.

I’m a very particular person. I’m very introverted and I hate when someone makes conversation harder than it has to be. I can hold a conversation. I just refuse to be the only one putting effort into it. (This makes more sense later)

I’m beyond fed up with dating app culture but my perfect or close enough to perfect guy has gotta exist so most of my accounts will remain I fucking guess.

I’m not necessarily looking for Mr. Forever. I’ll gladly keep him if I find him, but I’m also not looking for a relationship that I know will be temporary. I don’t do things by halves. I want something solid, whether it lasts forever or not depends on a lot of things.

I CAN’T EMOTIONALLY MULTITASK. I can really only give one person my full interest and attention at a time, which doesn’t bode well for these apps bc you gotta be able to bounce form one to the next no matter how excited you were about someone. These apps fucking suck.

Okay. Now let’s begin properly.

I started with Bumble. Yes. I know. Introverted female starting on a dating app that requires her to make the first move. That can’t go badly right.

I damn near have a panic attack every time I get a match I stg. Anyway.

I was skeptical at first. I’m not huge on people knowing a lot about me from the outset (or I wasn’t - i give so much less of a fuck now bc it makes almost no difference on these things) so my profile was pretty threadbare and cold. Now, a few weeks later, my profile is an efficient snapshot with a splash of Slytherin “Don’t fucking test me.”

Did I mention I’m an INTJ Scorpio? Yeah my entire approach is gonna scream that and my Hogwarts house, just you wait.

Round 1 ~ Bumble 🐝🍯

Okay so Bumble is interesting. For those who don’t know, it’s basically Beehive-Themed Tinder except for heterosexual couples, the lady has to initiate conversation. (Either party in a same sex match can message first) She has 24 hours from the point where her and a fella have “matched” to do so, then he has 24 hours to respond and seal the match – ending the time limits.

Bumble also gives you a rough estimate of how far away someone is sometimes. I’ve read articles about how bumble’s location estimate feature has ruined relationships forged through bumble and generally turned women into paranoid psychos over matches. Can. Fucking. Confirm. It’s the most annoying thing ever. Why?

Android vs Apple. That’s literally why.

The way Bumble’s location service is supposed to work is that everytime you open the app, it updates your location based on your phone or computer’s location. As far as I can tell, that’s exactly how it works on my android phone.

Apple users. Y’all are a problem. Not because I give a shit about your iPhone, I don’t give a shit do you ffs, but IOS location permissions can allow apps to update your location without the app being open.

Reread that for me.

Without. The app. Being. Open.

Which basically means if you match checks your profile, they can tell whether you’re where you were when they swiped right (say, 26 miles away) versus, oh idfk, a whole state or two away.

Real specific example I know. Why? Because I ended up unmatching a guy I REALLY wanted to get to know better because of it.

Though, to be fair, guys are really lax about how they behave on these apps in my opinion, which is a bigger problem than the stupid IOS setting.

Allow me to explain.

Dating App Etiquette 

It barely exists, but it should. Here’s the thing. On these apps, you basically swipe right on a pretty face and left on one you’re not interested in waking up to in the morning or sitting on. I’m only being half funny here. I’m convinced people use dating apps more for hookups than their intended purpose. Which, whatever, but for fuck’s sake make BumbleHookup. There’s BumbleDating, DumbleFriends, and BumbleNetwork or whatever. Just make BumbleDTF so we can filter these people out already.

BACK TO THE SINFULLY ATTRACTIVE AND INTERESTING DUDE I UNMATCHED

I’m still kinda peeved about this. In part at myself, but also just in general.

Most people seem to treat Bumble like Tinder. They don’t fill out their profile hardly at all. Have less than 3 pictures, have pictures that make it unclear who’s profile it is, or – my least favorite thing that is almost 100% regional – THEY REALLY FUCKING THINK A PICTURE OF THEM IN SUNGLASSES HOLDING A FUCKING FISH THEY JUST CAUGHT IS ATTRACTIVE. IT IS NOT. THAT’S NOT WHAT THE PICTURES ARE FOR. JUST SAY YOU LIKE TO FISH IN YOUR FUCKING PROFILE BECAUSE IF I HAVE TO LOOK AT ONE MORE MOTHER FUCKING FISH-

I’ve seen a lot of fish in the last few weeks. Like. So many that I’m basically auto swiping left if someone’s profile has less than 4 pictures and one or more contains a stupid fucking fish.

LOOK AT MY FUCKING USERNAME. LITTLEMULATTOKITTEN. IF A SELF-IDENTIFYING CAT TRAPPED IN A HUMANS BODY SAYS THERE’S TOO MANY FUCKING FISH – THERE ARE TOO MANY MOTHER FUCKING FISH.

I can guarantee this won’t be my last fish rant. You don’t understand how many fucking fish I’ve seen.

BUT THIS GUY DIDN’T HAVE ANY FISH IN HIS PROFILE.

So he already had my fucking attention. He was also startlingly handsome – not in a oh you exist off puss and nothing else there’s no other way someone as pretty as you with a penis could exist – but like “Oh. I’d…really like to look at that forever and sit on it if you’ll let me please.”

NOT ONLY DID I FIND HIM THAT ATTRACTIVE BUT HE SWIPED RIGHT ON ME TOO AND READ ENOUGH OF MY PROFILE TO ASK ME A QUESTION FROM THE LOWER HALF OF IT.

I was freaking the fuck out excited.

And frankly the odds of him seeing this are so fucking low that I’ll go ahead and tell you some specifics about the short convo we had, but nothing that could lead anyone back to him obviously.

He’d lived in my home state. First thing he asked was which city I was from. Then he guessed, claiming that guess was based off a beanie I was wearing in my second to last (I think) image available on my profile.

He’d lived in my home CITY. Which means he was familiar with the CULTURE. And would probably GET ME MORE THAN MOST GUYS IN MY AREA.

He worked in an industry/field I knew about and had almost gone into myself.

He was so fucking attractive. I have yet to come across someone who checked ever preliminary shallow box on my want list.

Biceps. Listen. We’re all a little shallow. Biceps do to me what ass and tiddy do to some guys. It’s one of the few really fucking strong visual things I have, followed by dark hair and blue eyes. But he was something of a gym rat, for sure, and I’d gladly torture myself at the gym if that man was going to be in my line of sight at all during the process.

Seriously. I’ve never seen someone who didn’t look like they had to be famous or an alien that made me go “He’s so pretty I want to cry.” EVER. I WANT TO CRY THINKING ABOUT IT BECAUSE WE’RE NOT MATCHED ANYMORE.

And last but not least – like almost every fucking match I’ve ever made, I could count his replies on one hand before he went radio silent.

So, how does this relate to that location issue, you may ask.

Because I didn’t fucking know that Bumble could update your location on some devices without you opening the app.

There’s no online/activity indicator for Bumble except their location updating. Which, when you’re really excited to get to know someone and they suddenly vanish, but they’re more likely than not still online, you might start to feel like you’ve been put on hold.

Life stuff, yes, makes sense, I get it. But these apps have push notifications (which can be buggy) and if you’ve matched with someone, odds are you’re interested enough to check back on occasion (unless you aren’t). So it quickly became a worry game.

Because, like I said, I can’t just say “I’m excited about you, but I’ll keep browsing”. I don’t work that way. Unless I’m not excited about someone, then yeah I’ll keep scatter-shotting. But if I’m not excited to get to know someone why the fuck would I swipe right.

Anyway. After a few days of silence, I was disappointed and getting bitter and the few proverbial bones I’d thrown him had gone unanswered. I knew I was overthinking it and letting my own insecurities get to me a bit, but at the end of the day, there’s a few general courtesies that should exist in online dating culture that don’t.

Why people are afraid or hesitant to say they’re too busy to respond much in their profiles is beyond me. Some guys have the right idea announcing that they’re bad at checking the app and offering their snapchat or telling matches to ask for it.

But even if you’re testing the waters with another match, we’re all on this app for the same fucking reason. Say so. I’m not the kind of person who will need to, because I don’t operate that way on these apps, but I would. Because if that person is really bothered by you finding out if you’re more compatible with someone you matched with prior to them, that tells you something about them.

Would I have been disappointed if that had been the case with this guy? Yeah, kinda. I probably would have felt like his second choice at best, even if he’d come back to chatting with me. But that’s how these fucking apps are designed. Buckle up or unmatch. Fuck your emotions and self-esteem.

I unmatched for my sanity, because that happened a few days into this whole experiment and I wasn’t on any other sites yet. I wasn’t really prepared to deal with this whole thing yet and I didn’t know what to expect. I felt like shit and decided that if he showed up in my feed again, maybe I’d super swipe him (paid extra special right swipe that tells them you REALLY like their face and whatever) but I still don’t know what I’ll do if he does. 

Lowkey hoping it was all a misunderstanding and whatever but like, not at all holding out for that because what are the fucking odds.

And again, my disappointment stems mostly from the fact that I was really excited to get to know him. The idea of finding someone on this stupid app in less than a week who wasn’t forcing his fish pictures in my face, would absolutely be the type of person to encourage my own wellness goals, and who was obviously smart because of his career path, was such an exciting thought. If we’d hit it off and gotten along really well, I’d have been so many levels of shocked and overwhelmingly happy that I just don’t know what I’d do.

When someone who looks like they’re 100% your type actually reads your profile and swipes right – you get excited. I was really excited. I’m still a little sad/disappointed, but I’m basically over it.

Other Misc. Things I’ve Learned On Bumble and other Dating Apps As a Relationship Seeking User

Take every profile with a grain of salt unless it’s so blatantly straightforward. And then still toss a pinch in.

The pretty pretty pretty buff boys who look like their players but their profiles claim they want a relationship? Odds are still players. They will try to convince you there’s 10 inches in their pants. They clearly aren’t smart enough to know that’s biologically uncomfortable for females and the best way to end up in the emergency room with a ruined cervix so don’t even swipe right. They’ll just ask for nudes.

People who use dating sites have some odd, hive mind fixation with The Office.

“Jim looking for his Pam” is in most profiles. I’m not sure why. References to The Office or mentions of The Office are about as common as all the stupid fucking fish.

I live in the wrong part of the country to find guys I’m actually going to share interests with. Just wait until I tell you about my experience so far on OK Cupid. I literally won’t find anyone where I live unless they’re from somewhere culturally similar to where I was born and are willing to move back with me. Because I am not fucking staying in the land of the god damn fish forever.

Most people don’t look at religion and politics like I do. Which is “You do you, I’ll do me, we won’t talk about it and we can peacefully do each other.” I don’t fucking care if your politics contradict mine if that’s the only thing we have not in common. Just make it a blacklisted subject and don’t let one frankly insignificant difference of opinion ruin an entire relationship or potential relationship. And same with religion. I’m not even a little religious. I don’t care if my future husband is unless it’s in my face constantly, he tries to “convert me”, get me to go to church with him, or some other blatant disrespect of my own religious standing. You worship whatever you want. I’ll right fanfiction about magic demon princes fucking their human-born demon queen every which way to Sunday. If religion is that big of a fucking deal for you, be upfront about it. Most people are in their bios. Either way, I’m really fucking sick of people who put too much weight into these two things like they actually decide how compatible you are with someone unless you let them.

I fucking hate fish.

Dating apps need more filters and ways to narrow down searches. 90% of the filters already present are shallow as all hell. What’s a few more.

Primarily let me filter out a few NAMES. This sounds super picky, but I have a really big family. 7 uncles. Over 20 cousins including the few cousins of mine who have kids. There’s a few names that would just be weird and awkward for me to associate with a significant other. If I could filter out my stepdad’s first name (which is disgustingly common but still), my biological father’s name, and a few of my uncle’s names, that’d be fucking swell. You already let me filter by religion and race. Let me filter out some fucking names damnit.

And there have to be people who have traumatic associations with names too like?????

The Office is a funny, good show and all but WHY IS EVERYONE ON THESE APPS FUCKING OBSESSED WITH IT THE WAY I’M OBSESSED WITH HARRY POTTER. I’VE SEEN IT. IT’S NOT **THAT** FUCKING FUNNY. SOMEONE EXPLAIN.

YOU HOLDING A DEAD FISH ISN’T FUCKING ATTRACTIVE SIR. THIS ISN’T THE SHAPE OF WATER. SHOW ME YOUR FACE NOT YOUR FISH.

The dating apps that are probably actually worth using all require a paid subscription.

There’s no real way to advertise that you find sex and physical intimacy very important in a relationship without making yourself sound like a cock-thirsty whore. Not that there’s anything wrong with it, you do you, but I’m looking for someone to be a slut FOR, I’m not one already and I dislike not being able to be upfront about that without being profiled or attracting fuckboys.

WHY CAN I NOT FILTER OUT PROFILES THAT CONTAIN IMAGES OF FISH

STOP WITH THE FUCKING FISH COUNTRY BOYS. ARE YOU LOOKING FOR A GIRLFRIEND OR SOMEONE TO KEEP TRACK OF YOUR TACKLEBOX? AND DON’T TELL ME THAT’S THE SAME THING, MY FAMILY IS COUNTRY. IT AIN’T THE SAME FUCKING THING. ALL THAT FISH TELLS ME IS THAT YOU’RE PROBABLY COMPENSATING FOR SOMETHING.

Judging by the few fish-fucks with their profiles filled out at all – they’re compensating for personality.

With how shallow the filters on these sites are, just go ahead and fucking add eye color, hair, etc. Seriously. If you’re gonna let me be shallow enough to only pick men of a certain ethnicity, and religion, you may as fucking well let me see if I can find a guy with blue eyes, biceps, dark hair, non religious, who doesn’t want kids without reading every fucking profile I come across.

There are way more guys on these sites who want or think they want children some day. This baffles me. But then again my primary reason for not wanting children is pregnancy and giving birth which wouldn’t be their problem so of course they want them.

I just need to auto left-swipe if I see a fish. These apps are shallow anyway. Do not make a fucking fishing joke just because I said shallow.

OK Cupid has a better matching system than Bumble and such, but it’s still irritating as all hell. You can’t choose question categories that are more important. So if I see a 91% match, but he has no sex questions filled out or our sexual compatibility is like…50%...that’s not REALLY a 91% match for me. Let me mark 2 or 3 question categories as priority for fucks sake.

The bulk of guys on these apps fall into 2 categories (for me anyway) – Not enough giveadamn to explain their presence on the site & thank u, next.

Online dating is disappointing as fuck.

I’m seriously going to lose my mind if I can’t get away from the fucking fish pictures. ENOUGH. I GET IT. I NEED TO MOVE.

Seriously – I. Need. To. Move. Back. Home. I am not meant for this part of the country. These good ole boys are meant for someone but it ain’t me and my family is fucking country. I’ve been fishing, ridden 4-wheelers, made shit out of wood for shits and giggles, helped my grandparents in the garden, eaten deer my grandfather or uncles hunted and prepared, helped chop wood, ridden in the bed of a truck, etc etc etc. But ya bitch has lifestyle goals that only include mud at scheduled times. We can go camping, but we should also go out to dinner sometimes and go clubbing or dancing other times.

I was not born with this ass to settle for a man who looks like an angel and acts like one too. Why is no one non-ironically blunt about their sexual preferences?  You cannot convince me that the majority of men lack strong opinions on this subject. SERIOUSLY. IT IS 2019 NOT 1619. God DAMNIT. You’re on a DATING SITE. THAT’S AN ASPECT OF RELATIONSHIPS THAT CAN MAKE OR BREAK THEM. BE STRAIGHTFORWARD.

It’s not even actually about sharing every interest. I don’t give a shit if he doesn’t like Harry Potter much. If he’s annoyed by the level I like it, yeah that’s an issue. Otherwise, be supportive and kind about that kinda shit. That’s all I’m asking for. That’s how I am in return.

I make shit with yarn, write off the wall fanfiction, have a lot of sexual interests I don’t usually broadcast, and don’t understand how dating sites are still this ineffective in 2019.

This is super long already so I’m gonna save the other apps for a separate installment if this one is enjoyed or whatever. Jesus. These apps, guys.

Apps I still need to talk about that probably won’t require this many words each – Hinge, Coffee Meets Bagel, OkCupid (OkC might need a few thousand words).

I’ll probably look into some other niche dating sites too because at this point, what the fuck ever - I just wanna meet someone back home or willing to move back home with me who fits some reasonable criteria parameters. And I’m not even as picky as half the profiles I’ve seen, lemme tell ya. I’m just fucking opinionated. And beyond sick of this experiment already.

Sigh.

If I ever see a fish again it’ll be too soon. Bet the first profile picture on my bumble dash later will be another fucking fish though.

Those who expressed interest: @accio-echo  |  @infallibleangel  | @aconitumluparia  and those who liked are my followers so you’ll see it. This post is so long my browser is bugging out with tags or I’d tag you all too.

[camille-marshall-blog]

Challenge #2

Alternately titled: Browling

a/n: SURPRISE BITCHES, BET YOU THOUGHT I WASN’T POSTING ON TIME Well, I was planning on bringing this in late buuuuuut, the over achiever in me hates missing deadline LOLOLOLOLOL Anyways, please enjoy this challenge! I only started writing it like a few hours ago, but I’m pretty happy with how much I’ve done in less than a day!! My schedule’s still a little packed, but I’m happy to say that I’ve survived all my midterm exams and the stupid project deadlines I had. Now!! ENJOY THIS FIC, WARNING FOR LANGUAGE AS USUAL. I’LL PROBABLY POST THIS AGAIN LATER WHEN I CAN MAKE MORE EDITS

I wore an outfit like this the last time I went on a date…

two years ago.

 Jesus, I have been out of this whole dating game for a long time, and I’m expecting myself to just breeze through my date with the prince? I know what I got myself into when I started this competition, but sometimes I wonder if ever I’m going to be ready for this. The prince was taking everyone on their first dates, and I know that it’s going to be such an honor to really have a one on one with him- well, other than that time that I had caught lifting weights at the gym- but it was still so… weird… to know that I was stuck somewhere between single and not single, and that I was going on a date with someone who was also like that? 

As I look into the mirror and fix my sweater, I remember how much being completely single was so normal for me these past few years. Dating was such a weird concept to me.

 A knock on my door catches my attention and I’m quick to open it to the sight of Prince Nate wearing civilian clothes, he looked nice out of that monkey suit,

 “Hey there, Natalie.” I greet with a smirk, giving him a once over.

“Mariah is it?” he asks, raising an eyebrow, still running with our inside joke.

“I thought I told you that I was Michelle,” I shake my head in mock disappointment, “What can I do for you?”

“Oh sorry my bad Michelle.” he shakes his head with a little laugh, before his face suddenly turns serious- was that hesitation? “Are you ready for your date?”

“Date…? Sure! Where to? I don't know if I'm going to be underdressed or something…” I ask, looking at what I was wearing, I felt bad that I had forgone any of the more formal or girly stuff my maids had suggested, but I really just wanted to wear my own clothes. Though I did take into mind that heels should have been worn to keep up with that palace formality- no matter how painful they sometimes were.  

“Just put something... comfy on... moveable, wait that sounds weird but just trust me.” WEIRD? How can comfortable clothing be weird? I’m relieved to hear Nate tell me that I just needed to wear comfortable clothing, so I really didn’t have to change.. save for the heels.

“Alright, just give me a moment to change. Please, come in.” I nod, opening my door for Nate to come in while I grabbed a pair of sneakers from under my bed. “Are sneakers okay? Cause these heels are killing me!” I ask again, waving my shoes up in the air.

“Here’s a hint, you’re going to be putting on completely different shoes anyway,” Nate tells me, and I’m pretty sure I know what he was planning there and then.

“Wow, that narrows things down... but sneakers it is!” I reply, kicking my heels off and putting my socks then sneakers on. “Okay, I think this is comfy enough.”

“Okay, let’s go!” Nate nods at me as he holds out his arm.

“I'm supposed to take your arm, right?” I know that I am supposed to, but I was just checking if he really wanted me to take his arm

Why was that always a thing? Thanks to Lady Collette, I know that it’s because of formalities and all that… but I didn’t find it appealing that seemed like some kind of forced intimacy with someone else, that stuff never really seemed genuine to me. Plus not to mention how used I was to not much physical contact. Back in the air force we had a thing called personal space and our portocols didn’t involve 24/7 physical contact with strangers. It was always about keeping distance and all that. I just found it uncomfortable when I don’t really know the person that well, so much that it made me want to squirm- but hey, things were different here and well… when in Rome, do as the Romans do.

“Yeah,” he laughs a little, “don’t worry.” He seems so laid back, perhaps this was just really second nature to him.

“Thanks,” I say as I take his arm, though I still do find it uncomfortable, “As you know, I’m not really used to this.”

“It’s fine, I don’t really mind.” he says as we walk out of my room, “If you don’t feel comfortable doing this you don’t have to…”

“Oh thank you.” I breathe out before pulling my arm away from his, “This is nuts.” I shake my head a little.

Nate flashes me a confused look, “What’s nuts?”

Fuck, did I just offend him? Have I just offended the prince by not wanting to take his arm? Well, Time to do some damage control!

“Just all the little rules of etiquette and stuff. Don't worry, I'm not going to share more of my laments- you've probably heard enough from everyone else.” I clarify to him, adding a little laugh to reassure him that things were fine.

“Oh I haven’t heard anything for any one else. You can tell me, I won’t get offended.” he tells me as we resume walking together, side by side. I hesitate at first, thinking of what I was about to say. Looking at his face, the prince didn’t seem like the one to judge so fast, but then I could be wrong, but I decide anyway to tell him.

“Hmph, well first of all- it's not really problem of having rules... I mean there are always going to be protocols to follow. It's just how weird it is for me to adjust to the protocol here versus being in the military.” I explain to him while I placed my hands behind my back out of habit.

“Well there is an adjustment for everyone and I mean everyone. Everyone is trying to get used to how everything if going to be for awhile. And I understand that you have quite the change, and could you explain what exactly is... bugging you the most?” Nate asks, and I’m taken aback at that question. What did this boy want me to say? My deepest darkest secrets? I try to assess Nate’s face, searching for any ulterior motives or the slightest bit of judgment, would he share this with anyone else?

Then again, I remember that I was on a date, in the palace, with the prince, during the Selection… which was technically buying me time from being deployed. Nathaniel deserved a chance to know a part of the story.

I rub my wrists and take a breath before explaining things to him even more,“I'm just not used to this lifestyle.. you know? I'm a Two and all that, but I lived pretty minimally on bases- I was always treated like a soldier. Mom and dad were always ‘Sir’ and ‘Ma'am’.” I have mini flashbacks to a life of living on naval bases and barracks, and the pressure of always joining the military from my father. This Selection… this moment… this was one the first moments that I was given a break from everything I had experienced in the past.

“For the first time, I feel like I'm not a soldier.” I admit to him, and I feel the guilt crashing over me again- what made me feel even worse was that I liked this civilian life.

“I understand, the change is very different. Like all of a sudden you have to be acting all these ways that you are not used to, I understand.” Nate nods in understanding, and I’m so glad that he does. It makes me realizes that he understands what it felt like to be raised a certain way to be a kind of certain person… because he probably was raised that way too, he was future king after all.

“Huh thanks,” I smirk at him, glad to have gotten something off my chest, “There's just a lot of pressure on me too. I think you know that I'm one of the first women in the military, right?”

“I think I’ve heard something, yes.” he says.

“People tended to give me shit since I was one of the few girls in my military school.” I remember the first day I was brought to the Fort Lauper Military Academy, one of Illea’s best military preparation schools. I was only one of seven girls in my class. “I was obligated to do better just to make everyone see that the decision of letting girls in was a good idea.” Prejudices were never far behind in that school when I first came along.

“I feel like being here kinda feels like me failing everyone who's believed in me.” I confess to Nate, and I’m realizing that I’m probably freaking him out with this sob story.”Jesus, I'm getting too mushy with my backstory.”

“No, no it’s fine,” Nate stops in his tracks to awkwardly place his hand on my shoulder, “you aren’t failing anyone.”

“Good to know that someone else thinks I'm not.” I reply to him as I pat the hand on my shoulder, this time I didn’t shy away from him- I needed that comforting gesture to make me not feel as guilty as I’ve been these past few days.

The two of us continue walking after he puts his hand down and asks,“Who do you think you are failing?”

Wow, back to the hard hitting questions. “Mostly my ... uh.. squad. We've been a team for almost two years, and we were supposed to get deployed as a team abroad. But now I'm here and the Silver Bullets are now in South Korea.”

“Did you chose this over them?”

“Whoa there, Nate- getting a little too deep into the convo right now.” I blurt out, putting my hands up a little up defensively. This was starting to feel more like an interrogation than a date.

His expression suddenly turns embarassed, “Oh sorry, uh I didn’t mean to.” he says as he looks to the ground.

“Don't worry, I'm not the kind of person who's used to talking about feelings.” I give him a shrug, making sure that he knew that I wasn’t mad or anything. I just had trouble opening up to people, in fact I’m a little surprised at how much I’ve opened up to him in less than 10 minutes of this date. “But, I'll answer that last question: yes, I wanted to be here.”

“Not everyone is open to talking about feelings,” he looks up and turns to me as we continue walking down the hallway, “I’m sorry I didn’t realize that I was digging too deep. But I’m glad you’re here.”

“Me too,” I give him a brief smile. This prince was defnitely more than what I was mentally preparing myself for, but he seemed to have the best intentions.

We walk a little more down the hallway until he stops us at a room on the first floor, “Here we are.”

“If I remember my map correctly, this is the bowling alley... right?” I’m pretty sure this was the bowling alley, plus Nate did mention a change of shoes.

“Yup,” he smiles as he opens the door and walks in right after me, “Wait do you like bowling?”

“Awesome, yeah! I used to go to an alley with some of the Silver Bullets before.” I nod my head to look around the alley. This was so cool- having a bowling alley in a home, I’d have to tell the bullets about this later.

“Sweet. What size are you?” Nate says as he heads over to a rack of shoes and seems to pick out his own shoes.

“Eight and a half. You get the shoes, I'll find the shoe freshener.” I say, looking around the alley to see where they’d store the freshener.

“We’re in a palace, these are going to be the cleanest bowling shoes you’ll ever wear” he comments. I’m pretty sure that this guys has never been to a bowling alley outside of the palace. I still get chills over how bad were the shoes back in Midston.

“Alright, if you say so. ” I shake my head, laughing a little, “Do you bowl often?”

“If I feel like it, yeah.” He answers as he sits down and starts changing into his bowling shoes.

“Oh right! yeah- I remember, you're busy a lot.” I say as I take a seat opposite to him and change my own shoes, “But I guess you find sometime to bowl in between princely duties, working out, and playing guitar?”

“It’s not my go to activity but I still have fun,” Nate adds as he laces up his shoes.

“Same for me.” I agree, remembering the days off from the base with the Bullets.

Nate then stands and looks through another set of racks for a ball, “ ’m going to beat you.”

Oooo, confidence. I’m so intimidated.

“You may have a home court advantage, but I've been bowling against pros.” I raise my eyebrow at him as I pick out my own ball.

Nate raises an eyebrow at me this time, “Oh have you?”

“Oh yeah, Wolf and Drone are pretty competitive- they always managed to strike.” I nod my head at the memory of Wolf and Drone always taking our bowling games too far.

“Is that a pun?” he looks at me incredulously

I raise my hands up and chuckle, “I'm capable of being funny too.”

Nate rolls his eyes playfully at me before gesturing to the lane. “You go first.”

“Sizing up the competition first, huh?” I raise my eyebrow in question as I take a few practice swings to get used to the weight of my bowling ball. Okay, I then go up the lane a little and let of the ball, crossing my right leg behind my left. Watching the ball go down, I hear the sound of pins crashing against each other and see only one pin left standing.

“Good job, I’m impressed.” he claps.

“Thank you!” I reply while I got my returned bowling ball and watch it as it hits that last pin. “Now, it's your turn, Natalie.”

I watch him warm up a little before he lets go of his ball, hitting 8 pins then rolling again to only hit one of two remaining pins.“It’s only the first round.” he tells me, and I almost laugh at how competitive he appeared to be right now. Oh this was on.

“That was good though.” I nod my head as I got my ball, “do you do this with your siblings? I roll my ball and only manage to hit 7 pins then only 1 in the next roll.

“When we’re in like the... awkward years. That’s when we were really into bowling.”

“What else are Schreave family activities? All of you seem to be so different.” It’s true, from the family I’ve seen during meals… all of them seemed so unique.

He shrugs, “We did stuff a lot when we were little, but now we are all busy doing our own things.” He says as he knocks 8 pins down and the last two in the next roll.

“Oooo nice!” I say as I stretch a little so I won’t pull a muscle, “so you guys don't hang out frequently anymore?”

“Well they hang out together sometimes but I can’t because I have to work. But when we’re all together we’re a mess.”

“The same thing happens whenever my siblings and I are altogether.” I shake my head in the memory of my siblings, then get my ball and manage to get a strike.

“Good one,” he smiles and gives me a thumbs up, “what are your siblings like?” he rolls a ball and manages to only get seven down.

“Quite honestly? My brothers are assholes. My sister's kinda decent. All three of them are kiss asses to our dad.” I explain to him as I play with the bowling ball in my hands. It was true though, both of my brothers were ginormous asses. I mean, they’re the reason why I never go by my first name. “I'm the youngest, so all three of them liked to bully me.” I shrug.

“I know I’m the oldest, but I’m just saying that is how siblings are.” he tells me, and it’s so obvious that he doesn’t get the pain of being the youngest.

“I know they are,” I laugh, “They just annoy me a lot.”

“So do mine.” he chuckles.

I laugh with him again, “But you seem to have a nice family though.”

“They are all very nice, we just don’t get to hang out all that much.” he reveals to me, and I kinda get it- that’s exactly why my siblings and I never got to hang out too- except all of us were stationed and working for different parts of the military. Ferdi was a captain in the Navy, Toni was a lieutenant general in the army, and Vange was a Lieutenant commander in the coast guard… and I was in tha air force.

“Yeah, sorry to hear that.” I reply to him as my first roll gets another 8 pins down, and the next knocks one down.

He shrugs,“You’ve seen the way we interact at dinner though.” He laughs again, and I had to agree.. they all seemed like a normal family.

“Yes, in all their majestic glory.” I laugh. The Schreaves seemed to have a better family dynamic than my own, that was for sure. Everyone was together, their parents were seemed lenient with them, and they all didn’t hate each other’s guts… yeap- better than mine.

“Enough about family, what…” he takes a moment to think, “Oh if you could go anywhere where would you go?”

“That's tough... but probably…” It’s my turn to pause and think. Where did I want to go? The funny thing about my life was that I had been to nearly all the provinces of Illea- lived in them actually… but I’ve never… ever been out of the country before.

“South Africa.” I say as I roll a 5 then knock down 3. “How about you? Where would you want to go?”

He thinks for a while before answering me, “South Africa, that’s a cool place. I’d probably want to go to Australia.”

Our conversation picks up from here, and we ask each other more about our favorite things, just typical getting to know you questions. It turns out that we have the same favorite color, which was nice to know. I’ve always liked Navy Blue. He liked eating chicken and potatoes, while I was more of a burrito girl, myself.

I roll twice and manage to knock down 9 pins as I ask him another deal-breaking question, “books or movies?”

“Hmm movies because I don’t have enough time to sit and read a book. What about you?”

“Books. I didn't have a lot of means to watch a lot of movies when I was younger.” I explain to him.

“Probably cause you were always doing something.” he mentions.

“Nope, strict parents.” I clarify with him.

He turns to me in surprise, “Really?”

I nod, “Uhuh, they though that watching movies was a waste of time... or watching anything on a digital screen.”

“Hm so are you not good or in the know of technology?” he asks me, and I laugh a little. I got asked that question… a lot.

“I'm actually pretty decent with tech..” I reply to him, showing him both of my phones… the old flip one and the new one I bought about a month ago.

“Wow, thats an upgrade.” he comments.

I laugh again, “Yeah, it is.”

Nate takes a lot at his watch, “I need to get back to work soon, is it okay if I walk you to your room or are you guys in the women’s room right now?”

“Oh sure! Yeah! It's no problem with me.... you could just walk me to my room- I don't really spend much time in the women's room.” I answer as I set my ball down.

“Okay, let’s go.” he holds his arm out to me.

“Sure.”

“Wait we don’t have to do the arm thingie if you don’t want to.” Nate tells me, and I realize that I took his arm without any hesitation.

“Don't worry, I'll try to get used to it.” I say as I pat his arm reassuringly.

“So other than reading books what else did you do as a child?” he asks me as we walk out of the alley together.

“Well, my siblings and I used to play mini warfare.” I smile, remembering that memory. “We used to bust out a couple of my brothers' Nerf guns and create our own fortresses out of the couch cushions.” We were so young back then, with heads full of fantasies of becoming heroes.

“That sounds like a lot of fun, nerf guns are the best.” Nate remarks, and I nod in agreement.

“I know! I'd trade them for real ones any time!”

“Any time.” he echoes as we arrive to the front of my door.

“Thanks for the date, by the way. I haven't had one in a long time.” I admit to him, shaking my head as I let go of his arm.

He laughs, “Well I have. But I had a lot of fun, even though I’m pretty sure you won.”

“I don't think either of us were keeping score.... but... you bowl good.” I reply, patting his shoulder. He was a pretty decent bowler.

“You do too! I had fun.”

“It was fun,” I smile again, wow my cheeks must hurt after all this smiling, “so... I'll see you around?”

“Yeah ,” he smiles back.

“Good luck with not getting bored in your meeting.” I turn my door knob and open my door, taking a step into my room. “Bye!”

“Bye.” Nate waves at me as I go into my room.

The minute I step in, my maids nearly tackle me with so much excitement and glee asking me so many questions about the date and Nate.

Eliza looks down disapprovingly, “Miss, what happened to your shoes?”

I look down and realize… hah, I was so caught up that I had forgotten to take off my bowling shoes.

[bluesmemethings]

the ultimate heathers lyric starter meme ( act 2 )

MY DEAD GAY SON

❛  You wait just a minute, (name)!  ❜

❛  It’s ignorant, hateful talk like yours that makes this world a place that they could not live in.  ❜

❛  They were not dirty!  ❜

❛  They were not wrong!  ❜

❛  They were two lonely verses in the Lord’s great song.  ❜

❛  Our boys were pansies, (name)!  ❜

❛  Yes! My boys a homosexual, and that don’t scare me none.  ❜

❛  I want the world to know, I love my dead, gay son.  ❜

❛  I’ve been thinking. Praying. Reading some magazines.  ❜

❛  It’s time we opened our eyes.  ❜

❛  Well, the good Lord created the universe.  ❜

❛  The Lord created man.  ❜

❛  I believe it’s all a part of His gigantic plan.  ❜

❛  I know God has a reason for each mountain and each flower, and why he chose to let our boys get busy in the shower!  ❜

❛  I never cared for homos much until I reared me one.  ❜

❛  He loves his son.  ❜

❛  Jesus says it’s cool!  ❜

❛  They just had flair!  ❜

❛  They were desperate to be free!  ❜

❛  They took a rebel stance, stripped to their underpants.  ❜

❛  I can’t believe that you still refuse to get a clue after all that we’ve been through.  ❜

❛  I’m talking you and me, in the summer of ‘83.  ❜

❛  That was one hell of a fishing trip.  ❜

❛  Our jobs are now continuing the work that they begun.  ❜

❛  They were good men!  ❜

❛  We’ll teach the world to love.  ❜

SEVENTEEN

❛  Fine, we’re damaged. Really damaged, but that does not make us wise.  ❜

❛  We’re not special. We’re not different.  ❜

❛  We don’t choose who lives and dies.  ❜

❛  Let’s be normal. Watch bad movies, sneak a beer and watch TV.  ❜

❛  Don’t you want a life with me?  ❜

❛  Can’t we be seventeen? That’s all I want to do.  ❜

❛  If you could let me in, I could be good with you.  ❜

❛  People hurt us, or they vanish, and you’re right, it really blows.  ❜

❛  We let go, take a deep breath.  ❜

❛  Don’t stop looking in my eyes.  ❜

❛  Is that so hard to do?  ❜

❛  Let us be seventeen, if we’ve still got the right.  ❜

❛  So what’s it gonna be?  ❜

❛  I want to be with you.  ❜

❛  Yeah, we’re damaged. Badly damaged.  ❜

❛  Your love’s too good to lose.  ❜

❛  Hold me tighter. Even closer.  ❜

❛  I’ll stay if I am what you choose.  ❜

❛  You’re the one I choose.  ❜

SHINE A LIGHT

❛  Deep inside of everyone there’s a hot ball of shame.  ❜

❛  If we show the ugly parts that we hide away, they turn out to be beautiful by the light of day.  ❜

❛  Every day’s a battlefield when pride’s on the line.  ❜

❛  I attack your weakness and pray you don’t see mine.  ❜

❛  If I share my ugly parts and you show me yours, our love can knock our walls down and unlock all our doors.  ❜

❛  Who wants to share what’s in their heart?  ❜

❛  No volunteers? Fine, I’ll start.  ❜

❛  I live alone. My husband left. My kids are grown.  ❜

❛  In the 60s love was free, that did not work out well for me.  ❜

❛  The revolution came and went -- tried to change the world, barely made a dent.  ❜

❛  I’ve struggled with despair.  ❜

❛  I’ve joined a cult.  ❜

❛  I chant, I prayed but God’s not there.  ❜

❛  (name) I’m ending our affair!  ❜

❛  I faked it every time.  ❜

LIFEBOAT

❛  I float in a boat in a raging black ocean, low in the water with no where to go.  ❜

❛  The people smell desperate.  ❜

❛  We’ll sink any minute so someone must go.  ❜

❛  Everyone’s pushing! Everyone’s fighting!  ❜

❛  There’s no where to hide.  ❜

❛  The captain is pointing. well who made her captain?  ❜

❛  Still, the weakest must go.  ❜

SHINE A LIGHT (REPRISE)

❛  Aw look, (name) is gonna cry.  ❜

❛  Stupid childproof caps!  ❜

❛  Aw look, (name) is gonna whine all night.  ❜

❛  You don’t deserve to live.  ❜

❛  Why not kill yourself?  ❜

❛  Here, have a sedative.  ❜

❛  Whine, whine, whine like there’s no Santa Clause.  ❜

❛  You’re pathetic because you whine!  ❜

❛  You whine all night!  ❜

❛  Your ass is off the team!  ❜

❛  Go on and bitch and moan.  ❜

❛  You don’t deserve the dream!  ❜

❛  You’re gonna die alone.  ❜

KINDERGARTEN BOYFRIEND

❛  He was sweet, he said that I was smart.  ❜

❛  He was good at sports and people liked him.  ❜

❛  At nap time, once, we shared a mat.  ❜

❛  I didn’t sleep, I sat and watched him breathing.  ❜

❛  I watched him dream for almost half an hour. Then he woke up.  ❜

❛  He pulled a scab off one time playing kickball, kissed me quick and pressed it in my hand.  ❜

❛  I took that scab and put it in a locket, all year long I wore it near my heart.  ❜

❛  He didn’t care if I was thin or pretty.  ❜

❛  He was mine until we hit first grade.  ❜

❛  Last night I dreamed a horse with wings flew down into my home room.  ❜

❛  Now we’re all grown up and we know better.  ❜

❛  Now we recognize the way things are.  ❜

❛  Certain boys are just for kindergarten.  ❜

❛  Certain girls are meant to be alone.  ❜

❛  I believe that any dream worth having, is a dream that should not have to end.  ❜

❛  I’ll build a dream that I can live in, and this time I’m never waking up.  ❜

YO GIRL

❛  Oh my god, is she dead?  ❜

❛  Just another geek trying to imitate the popular people and failing miserably.  ❜

❛  keep it together.  ❜

❛  I knew you would come far.  ❜

❛  Smell how gangsta you are.  ❜

❛  I’m so sorry.  ❜

❛  Feel a bit punchy?  ❜

❛  She’s not looking so well.  ❜

❛  You’ve earned that red scrunchie.  ❜

❛  Come join (name) in hell.  ❜

❛  Where have you been?  ❜

❛  We’ve been worried sick!  ❜

❛  Your friend, (name), stopped by.  ❜

❛  He told us everything.  ❜

❛  He’s got your hand writing down cold.  ❜

❛  Please, honey, talk to us.  ❜

❛  No, you wouldn’t understand.  ❜

❛  Guess who’s right down the block?  ❜

❛  I’ve experienced everything you’re going through.  ❜

❛  Guess who’s climbing the stairs?  ❜

❛  Your problems seem like life and death, I promise they’re not.  ❜

❛  Guess who’s picking your lock.  ❜

❛  You don’t know what my world looks like!  ❜

❛  Times up! Go say your prayers.  ❜

❛  (name)’s running on fumes now.  ❜

❛  (name)’s totally fried.  ❜

❛  (name)’s gotta be tripping on shrooms now.  ❜

❛  (name)’s done for, there’s no doubt now.  ❜

❛  Notify next of kin.  ❜

❛  Too late, he got in.  ❜

❛  Sorry for coming in through the window, dreadful etiquette I know.  ❜

❛  Get out of my house!  ❜

MEANT TO BE YOURS

❛  All is forgiven baby!  ❜

❛  Come on, get dressed! You’re my date to the pep rally tonight!  ❜

❛  You chucked me out like I was trash.  ❜

❛  For that, you should be dead.  ❜

❛  Then it hit me like a flash: what if high school went away instead?  ❜

❛  Those assholes are the key.  ❜

❛  They’re keeping you away from me.  ❜

❛  They made you bling, messed up your mind.  ❜

❛  I can set you free!  ❜

❛  You left me and I fell apart.  ❜

❛  I punched the wall and cried.  ❜

❛  I found you changed my heart and set loose all that truthful shit inside.  ❜

❛  So, I built a bomb!  ❜

❛  Tonight our school is Vietnam.  ❜

❛  Let’s guarantee they never see their senior prom!  ❜

❛  I was meant to be yours.  ❜

❛  We were meant to be one.  ❜

❛  Don’t give up on me now.  ❜

❛  Finish what we’ve begun.  ❜

❛  In the rubble of their tomb, we’ll plant this not explaining why they died.  ❜

❛  Our burned bodies may finally get through to you.  ❜

❛  Your society churns out slaves and blanks, no thanks.  ❜

❛  We’ll watch the smoke pour out the doors.  ❜

❛  Bring marshmallows, we’ll make s’mores.  ❜

❛  We can smile and cuddle while the fire roars.  ❜

❛  I can’t make it alone.  ❜

❛  You were meant to be mine.  ❜

❛  I am all that you need.  ❜

❛  You carved open my heart, can’t just leave me to bleed.  ❜

❛  Open the door please.  ❜

❛  Can we not fight anymore?  ❜

❛  (Name), sure, you’re scared, I’ve been there.  ❜

❛  (Name), don’t make me come in there.  ❜

❛  I’m gonna count to three. 1, 2, fuck it--  ❜

❛  Oh my god.  ❜

❛  Please don’t leave me alone.  ❜

❛  You were all I could trust.  ❜

❛  I can’t do this alone, still, I will if I must.  ❜

DEAD GIRL WALKING (REPRISE)

❛  I wanted someone strong who could protect me.  ❜

❛  I let his anger fester and infect me.  ❜

❛  His solution is a lie.  ❜

❛  No one here deserves to die, except for me and the monster I created.  ❜

❛  Heads up (name).  ❜

❛  I’m a dead girl walking.  ❜

❛  Can’t hide from me.  ❜

❛  There’s your final bell.  ❜

❛  It’s one more dance and then farewell.  ❜

❛  (name) told me you just committed suicide?  ❜

❛  Yeah, well, he’s wrong about a lot of things.  ❜

❛  I through together a lovely tribute, especially considering the short notice.  ❜

❛  What’s under the gym?  ❜

❛  That’s it.  ❜

❛  What’s that sound?  ❜

❛  Give a great big yell!  ❜

❛  Step away from the bomb.  ❜

❛  This little thing? I’d hardly call it a bomb.  ❜

❛  This is just to trigger the packs of thermals upstairs --those are bombs.  ❜

❛  I wish your mom had been a little stronger.  ❜

❛  I wish she’d stayed around a little longer.  ❜

❛  I wish your dad were good.  ❜

❛  I wish grownups understood.  ❜

❛  I wish we’d met before they convinced you life is war.  ❜

❛  I wish you’d come with me.  ❜

❛  I wish I had more TNT!  ❜

I AM DAMAGED

❛  I am damaged. Far too damaged.  ❜

❛  You’re not beyond repair.  ❜

❛  Stick around here, make things better.  ❜

❛  You beat me fair and square.  ❜

❛  Please stand back now.  ❜

❛  Don’t know what this thing will do.  ❜

❛  Hope you miss me.  ❜

❛  Wish you’d kiss me.  ❜

❛  I’ll trade my life for yours.  ❜

❛  Wait, hold on!  ❜

❛  Once I disappear, clean up the mess down here.  ❜

❛  Not this way!  ❜

❛  Say hi to God.  ❜

SEVENTEEN (REPRISE)

❛  Listen up kids, war is over.  ❜

❛  Brand new sheriff’s come to town.  ❜

❛  We are done with acting evil.  ❜

❛  We will lay our weapons down.  ❜

❛  We’re all damaged, we’re all frightened, we’re all freaks but that’s alright.  ❜

❛  We’ll endure it. We’ll survive it.  ❜

❛  (name) are you free tonight?  ❜

❛  High school may not ever end.  ❜

❛  Still, I miss you.  ❜

❛  I’d be honored, if you’d let me be your friend.  ❜

❛  We can be seventeen.  ❜

❛  If nobody loves me now, someday somebody will.  ❜

❛  There’s still time to make things.  ❜

❛  One day we’ll change the world, but let’s kick back tonight.  ❜

❛  Let’s go be seventeen, take off our clothes and dance.  ❜

❛  This could be our final chance.  ❜

❛  We’ll make it beautiful.  ❜

[themjinterviews-blog]

43. ...'cause it was Bobbi with an 'i'...he isn't just one of the guys; in his pink party dress, you would never guess, he benches 335!

Have you ever wished you could start life over?: Because being an infant sounds like a jolly good time? No thanks.

…or at least go back in time?: Yeahhhh – about that…I’m not fucking with different timelines and all the intricate time-travel etiquette.

When did you last eat pizza?: Tonight actually.

Do you prefer to hear the painful truth or a beautiful lie?: Not sure it makes a difference. In the end, it only matters how I see or perceive it to be. No definite way to known for certain whether people are being honest or not. You either chose to believe they are, or not.

How many exes do you have?: “Official” exes? 4, I think?

Have you ever known a pathological or habitual liar?: Absolutely.

Do you enjoy writing?: Love it.

If so, do you prefer writing lyrics, poetry, stories or something else?: Essays, free verse poetry, quotes, quirky self-help journals, lists, song parodies, etc…

Are you angry right now?: Mildly irritated. I keep hitting typos and I am just angry to have to keep correcting stupid shit.

Have you ever punched a wall?: Don’t think so.

Have you ever lived in a motel/hotel?: Yeah for like half a year.

Do you think you would enjoy running your own business?: Hell fucking no. I have very poor follow through and virtually zero concept of or desire to properly manage finances.

What’s the average rent for a 1 bedroom apartment in your area?: I’m gonna guess like 650-800$

Do you think rentals are too expensive where you live?: We are renting from friends. Doesn’t count.

Have you ever changed a car’s alternator?: Absolutely no idea what the fuck an alternator is.

Do you have Netflix?: The couple we live with does, but personally, no I don’t.

What about Hulu Plus?: Brandon does.

Do you have an Xbox Live gold membership?: Used to.

Would you rather master Guitar Hero or a real guitar?: I don’t necessarily want to *master* either. Neither are really a skill I could myself pursuing to any proficient degree.

Have you ever used an electric drill?: Back when I helped with drama club sets in high school.

Do you know anyone who’s had brain surgery?: Not that I’m aware of.

Do you like playing FPS (First Person Shooter) video games?: I got somewhat into CoD BlackOps.

Have you ever heard of, the band, Porcupine Tree?: Errr, no.

Would you rather wear boots or sandals?: Boots!

Have you ever rescued a lost dog?: B. sorta found our dog now that way. He escaped a neighborhood yard at a friends place and the lady was trying to get rid of him because her son was throwing out some hard-core Of Mice and Men vibes.

Have you ever adopted a dog from a shelter?: Yeah – my Deandra. R.I.P.

Have you ever cleaned a cat litter box?: Yeah.

Have you ever used a machete?: I own one…never had an occasion in which I needed to use it though.

What’s the last gift you gave to someone?: A weird drink coozie thing.

What’s the last gift you received?: A gift card to Carrabba’s.

When was the last time you rode a bicycle?: Last summer when I lived at the motel I think?

Do 2 wrongs ever make a right?: Right and wrong are up for interpretation.

Are you a vengeful person at all?: No. Vengeance to me is going on with life unscathed by and unfixed upon the malicious actions of other people. Seeking vengeance literally just gives them the satisfaction of knowing they got under your skin. Which was btw, exactly what they were hoping to do.

Do you have a good memory or do you forget things often?: Hit or miss. Going to lean more towards forget things, though. I tend to live in my own little world and if I don’t use the information frequently, it quickly becomes irrelevant and eventually forgotten.

Do you know anyone who suffers from chronic fatigue?: Probably.

Have you ever felt like you “lost yourself”?: I think for the first 29-30 years of my life, I didn’t even have a self to lose.

Do you judge people based on their weight?: No, what would that accomplish?

Do you know anyone who’s hardworking but still struggles to make ends meet?: I feel like I qualify; I work my ass off but have 0 priorities or sense of financial self-discipline.

What do you think is more harmful? Cigarettes or Marijuana?: Ummm, cigarettes are widely-accepted and scientifically determined to be absolutely more harmful than weed. Regardless, I smoke both.

Is your air conditioner on?: Either that or the fan. Not sure what the friends who own the house have it set on.

Is your heater on?: The fucks wrong with you. It’s May in Southern Arizona.

Do you enjoy going on walks?: Explicitly the manageably short, non-strenuous variety.

Do you like having picnics?: They're okay. Eating inside is fine, too.

Have you ever had a panic/anxiety attack?: Yessum.

Have you ever dated a co-worker?: “Dated” isn’t exactly the word I’d go with. But I’ve done the work-mance scene. Almost always culminates to awkwardness.

Do you still buy CDs or do you just download music?:Still buy CDs. The car we just bought was old enough to still have a CD player in it.

Do you like iPod/song shuffle surveys?: Not really.

Do you suffer from social anxiety?: Not really anymore. I mean, once I realized it was all in my head, it sort of depleted the level of social anxiety noticeably.

Are you more introverted or extroverted : Introverted. But I know how to appear extroverted in situations like talking to my tables at work.

Do you enjoy organizing things?: There is no consistency when it comes to what kinda shit I like to organize, nor how frequently I do it.

Have you ever watched “Mystery Science Theater 3000”?: I have not

Do you know anyone who plays Tuba?: Random. Nope.

If you had to get a tattoo of someone’s name, who’s name would you choose?: Like maybe a pet or a family member. Or my own name.

Have you ever been to Catalina Island?: No idea where that even is.

Would you rather swim with dolphins or sharks?: Yo, what sick fucker voluntarily chooses the sharks? Is that even a serious inquiry?

Do you know how to change a vacuum belt?: You buy a new vacuum or you simply never vacuum again.

Have you ever given a business a bad online review?: “If you don’t have anything nice to say, then don’t say anything at all.”

Do you know anyone who used to be a stripper (that you know of)?: Yeah, one of the bartenders I knew from the dive bar.

Do you know anyone who’s a hoarder?: I know people with tendencies, but not full-blown hoarder-ness.

Do you know who Maynard James Keenan is?: Ummmm, no…sorry.

Do you take responsibility for your actions or tend to make excuses?: I’ve gotten better at understanding what taking responsibility for myself actually means.

Have you ever used the shower at a gym?: . Yeah.

Have you ever felt trapped in a relationship: Trapped is an understatement.

Do you believe that “love is blind”?: I believe love is almost always something else in disguise…and that it all generally relates back to the image we want to create and embody. I swear I’m not being cynical, I'm just saying “Love” will always be too subjective and misinterpreted to come to any finite opinion about it.

What’s the furthest distance you’ve ridden a bicycle?. Like 7 miles? Could be more or less. I’m a terrible judge of time and distance.

Do you rate every survey you fill out, here on bzoink?: Don’t know what Bzoink is.

Do you know anyone who gets way too angry when playing video games?: Not currently.

Do YOU get too angry when playing video games?: It’s been awhile, but I usually don’t get raging mad – I was likely never expecting to do all that well in the first place.

Do you like to sing karaoke?: I’d rather sing along to the radio/iTunes. I need to hear the artist singing in order to match pitch and sound half decent.

Do you know what micro-expressions are?:. Not remotely.

If so, do you have a talent for seeing/reading them?: Assumingly not.

Have you ever had insomnia?: Medically, no. I don’t think it counts if you just do a lot of uppers and electively decide not to sleep.

What’s the longest amount of time you’ve been awake?: Like, 6 days. It gets trippy. I am in no way suggesting anyone try it.

Have you ever been in denial?: Lol it’d be obvious denial to deny being in denial.

Have you ever been in The Nile?: Sure. King Tut and I go Lazy-River-Drunk-Tubing together.

Have you recently used a nail file?: I honestly don’t think I’ve ever used one.

Do you know anyone named Kyle?: Yeah. This kid I went to HS with. We talked for a bit like a year ago and got Margaritas once.

Is it annoying that I started rhyming my questions?: Nope. You do you, bro!

[thedesperatehousehusband]

Working Out the Workout

The gym is a special place. It’s such a study in sociology. Who is resplendent in Lululemon with complete hair? Who has fashioned a sleeveless shirt that’s basically a rag made out of their college or high school athletic team gear? Who grunts and makes noises while lifting the big weights? Who chit chats for 45 minutes then says “I work out for 90 minutes a day” when in all truth you really work out for 45 minutes? These are the questions that the great social scientists and behaviorists are asking as they study gym culture. I am more interested in oddities, anomalies and etiquette gaffes that plague my workout experiences. So let’s hop to it. I’m a frequent user of the YMCA in downtown Indy. It’s a very nice facility that is constantly crawling with people. You have to resign yourself to crowds and deal with it. Either by zoning out or just finding a corner to claim for your own. Let’s discuss scents first. Particularly in the morning there is an overabundance of flatulence. It just happens. As you go down for that squat or as you find yourself mid-lunge a little poot comes out. I am guilty of such behavior. But I try to ghost as much as I can. It would behoove others to adopt this strategy as well. You can’t always help farts. It’s early in the morning. Things are moving and gurgling. You had Indian for dinner and that’s how all that curry escapes your system. However, something that’s easier to control is body odor and clean clothing. Bitches, put on some damn deodorant and brush your teeth before you head out of the house. And, for the love shit, wash your fucking gym clothes! It’s the same as your PE uniform from 7th grade that your mom forced you to bring home every Friday so she could wash it. Stinky teenage boys become stinky adult men. And that drying sweat on your clothes that never actually dries because you jam your shit into your bag retains said stink. This is true of Millennials, Gen X-ers and Baby Boomers and any other generation in between. You’ve got to wash your clothes. Use some Tide. Use some Bounce. Once a week may not be enough. Personally, socks and t-shirts are only allowed one use. Shorts depend on the type of work out. I sweat more doing cardio at which point them shorts get washed errrry time they get worn. On the topic of clothing, I am often befuddled by t-shirt choices. I typically wear plain t-shirts or free t-shirts from walks/runs/events. Others use it as a time to make a statement. These are t-shirts I have seen at the Y: • Try Not to Suck. Excellent idea but, let’s face it, the person wearing this sucks big time. • The Only Thing Left to Lift? Dis Fork and Dem Weights. I truly do not understand this statement but I do understand that the dude that wears this shirt is a douche. • Super-Star. Seems doubtful. • I’m Not a Morning Person. Thanks for letting everyone know. It’s only 6:00 AM on a Tuesday. • Anything Notre Dame. Barf. Just projectile, chunky barf. Water fountain etiquette confounds me. Near the weights at the Y, there are two fountains. One regular sized bubbler and one accessible bubbler. You have to bend down a little bit further to use the accessible option but there is no sign indicating it’s reserved only for the handicapped. So I use it and I think of the additional bend as a crunch or squat. I do it all the time. No one else does. And I also use it when someone else is using the regular one. Maybe I’m the weirdo but I don’t think so. The locker room is a sea of bizarre behavior. There are so many archetypes. The old man who parades around in the nude. The dude so reserved he goes to the shower in his clothes and undresses there. The person who takes up the whoooooooole sink. That’s all fine and to be expected. What I cannot tolerate is towels in the shower. If you enter the shower with multiple towels, be they regular-sized towels or sweat-sized towels, please leave the shower with all of them. It is revolting to walk into the shower to find a sopping rag of someone else’s funk either hanging on the towel hook, slung over the shower handle or laying on the floor in a soaking heap. There is also no room for chit chat. If I know someone, then I’m open to greetings, salutations and pleasantries but it’s not a time to catch up and it’s definitely not the time to meet new friends. The amount of people who want to talk and discuss their workout, their injuries and their life is baffling to me. What’s with the asshats who carry around a gym bag the size of a Ford Escort and haul a full gallon of water with them from machine to machine station to station? I assume the water is laced with steroids. The backne is a telltale sign, dummies. If you are running sprints on the treadmill and you are flinging perspiration high and low, wipe that shit up. This is true of every piece of equipment but courtesy is not always common. I’m sure I’ve missed a thing or two or three that are bothersome but enough bitching for one day. It’s time to limber up so I can work out my quads. If I had a dollar……

[vxltrxn-imagines]

Meant to Be Yours

Meant to Be Yours(Yandere!KeithxReader)

(Keith and (Y/N) haven't killed anyone.)

(Y/N) was terrified. Why you ask? Because her ex boyfriend, Keith, had recently turned very insane. She has broken up with him after he revealed he still carried a weapon with him after their promise to be normal, and recently he had told her parents she was planning on killing herself. She knew what that meant, he was coming to kill her, and the thought of the man she loved killing her in a craze terrified her.

She didn't understand what had snapped in his mind. Sure, when they met he was a little hot headed but he was never this insane. He yelled at her for saving someone from killing themselves, saying they deserved to die. No one deserves to die in her mind, ever. Not only did that happen, but he had snapped and almost killed Lance until she intervened. She didn't know what to do, but she knew he probably was on his way right now. She was panicking in her closet until she heard someone enter her window,

“Knock knock~” Keith's voice rang out, “Dreadful etiquette coming through the window I know. But all is forgiven baby! Come on, get dressed. You're my date to the pep rally tonight!” (Y/N) was frozen solid as he spoke that, did he not come here to kill her?? Then why did he tell her parents about her “suicidal thoughts”? She remained silent, holding her breath as she heard him start to pace around her room.

“You chucked me out like I was trash, For that you should be dead— But! But! But! Then it hit me like a flash, What if high school went away instead”

Keith was singing softly to some music (Y/N) could not hear, for it was all in his mind. He truly had lost it. The sound of him singing to himself to some made up music truly terrified her even more.

“Those assholes are the key! They’re keeping you away from me! They made you blind, messed up your mind But I can set you free!”

Keith was pacing around her room more, searching for where (Y/N) was. He knew she had to be in here, and he had checked every nook and cranny, and knew there was only one place he hadn’t, the closet. He smirked as he walked over to the door and sang right behind it, letting her know he was there, that he had found his possession again.

“You left me and I fell apart, I punched the wall and cried— Bam! Bam! Bam!”

Keith pounds on the closet door with each bam to get his point across even more, causing (Y/N) to fall from her spot leaning up against him with a small whimper, and mentally cursed herself for giving any noise to this mad man. Keith, on the other hand, was happy that he knew for sure now that (Y/N) was indeed on the other side of the door. His crazed smirk grew even wider.

“Then I found you changed my heart and set loose all that truthful shit inside! And so I built a bomb Tonight our school is Vietnam! Let’s guarantee they’ll never see their senior prom!”

(Y/N)’s eyes widened in fear. This all had to be some sick, sick prank. He couldn't possibly have built a bomb just to blow up the school, could he have? It truly seemed the Keith she met was gone forever, and this psycho version had replaced it. Was there even hope anymore to ever get her old boyfriend she loved back?

“I was meant to be yours! We were meant to be one! Don’t give up on me now! Finish what we’ve begun! I was mean to be yours!”

He sung gently to her, but it still ended up sounding deranged to (Y/N). He was just talking about blowing up an entire school, and now he was talking about how he was meant to be hers. She was curled up on the floor with her knees up against her, trying to think of what to do. She was trapped, there was no way out of this closet and on the other side stood her ex she was fearing, who would probably do anything he had to do to get her. “So when the high school gym goes boom with everyone inside— Pchw! Pchw! Pchw! In the rubble of their tomb We’ll plant this note explaining why they died!” Keith straightened up and got the letter out to read from, and started impersonating the students, “We, the students of Garrison High Will die. Our burnt bodies may finally get through To you. Your society churns out slaves and blanks No thanks. Signed the Students of Westerburg High ‘Goodbye.’”

(Y/N) didn’t know what Keith was thinking, there was no way anyone would ever be convinced that an entire school decided to kill themselves like that, especially with a note that sounded as deranged as that did. She wished she could read his thoughts, maybe just try to understand what he was thinking, where all of his thought processes were, but at the same time the thought of going inside his mind terrified her.

“We’ll watch the smoke pour out the doors. Bring marshmallows, We’ll make s’mores! We can smile and cuddle while the fire roars!”

Keith wasn’t exaggerating, he honestly thought that they could cuddle and make s’mores and that (Y/N) would be perfectly okay being with almost everyone she has ever known getting blown up in front of them. He wasn't thinking straight anymore, his thoughts only involved (Y/N); how to get her back, what he'll do once she's his again, how much he wants to kiss her, how perfect she is. He didn't realize how unhealthy and terrifying it was,

“I was meant to be yours! We were meant to be one! I can’t make this alone! Finish what we’ve begun

You were meant to be mine! I am all that you need! You carved open my heart! Can’t just leave me to bleed!”

(Y/N) was pacing back and forth in the closet, trying to find any solution to this situation she trapped herself in. She had thought of one, but it was going to be risky. She pulled up her store bedsheet and silently started to work on it. Keith's “song” was getting more and more deranged by the second, and she didn't want to know what was going to happen when he was finished with his song. On the other side of the door, Keith had gotten up close to the door and started pounding on it,

“(Y/N), open the—open the door, please (Y/N), open the door!”

He shouted, but was begging and sounded desperate at the same time, causing (Y/N) to feel a tiny bit of sympathy towards him, he clearly was in pain, but was dealing with it the completely wrong way,

“(Y/N), can we not fight anymore Please, can we not fight anymore”

He continued to beg, as (Y/N) fell silent, her plan now complete, all that was needed was either for Keith come in the closet, or eventually give up and leave. Hearing his song, and knowing how strong and tough Keith truly was, (Y/N) knew it was going to be the first option rather than the later.

“(Y/N), sure, you’re scared, I’ve been there. I can set you free! (Y/N), don’t make me come in there! I’m gonna count to three! One! Two! Fuck it!”

Keith busted down the closet door, and his eyes widened with shock and filled with tears.

“Oh my God! No...No! (Y/N)!”

Keith fell in front of the now hanging (Y/N) that was in front of him. She remained silent, knowing any movement or breath would let him know she was still alive. Keith, on the other hand, was a complete mess

“Please don’t leave me alone… You were all I could trust… I can’t do this alone…”

He cried, and (Y/N) wondered if that meant he was going to give up on his crazy scheme to blow up the school until he continued,

“Still I will if I must!”

Keith stood up with a vengeance in his air, and he took (Y/N)’s dangling limp hand and kissed it as if saying goodbye before running off. (Y/N) silently was thankful for the fact her body always felt cold and jumped down from her fake noose once he was gone. She put her hair up in a ponytail, meaning business, and she grabbed a knife and a hammer. Someone had to stop Keith, and if anyone was going to succeed in doing it, it was going to have to be (Y/N). She picked up a framed photo she put of them by her bed, and whispered something softly before sneaking out her bedroom,

“Goodbye Keith.”

[megrimlocke]

Rage

So, here I am, almost a year since my ex dumped me, still yelling at him in my head at least once a week and often more. It’s not a daily thing anymore, thank god for that. Point is that in spite of the healing I’ve done I’m in a place where I need to be honest with my anger. I’ve made a serious effort at focusing this around forgiveness and addressing myself to what I then perceived to be legitimate criticism and to make this year be about growth and regeneration and all that. I’ve demonstrated that I’m not just a loser who can’t make plans for himself with career, I’ve shown that my body isn’t inevitably doomed to smallness and weakness, and I’ve shown that I’m not afraid of responsibility or unable to plan for retirement. I’m a homeowner now, and as of this week my equity has officially increased by 1,000 bucks or so due to my payments, which means that I now own roughly 1% more of my house than I did when I bought it (as I understand this anyway). I have a garden filled with beautiful and fruitful growing things and my cat is healthy and warm and safe. It’s not the home together I thought we were building but I have made a home and a little family of my own, and I’m proud to look after it all. I’ve done a really good job reconnecting with people I lost track of during the relationship or who I alienated in order to meet Chris’s demands of my time or his paranoid jealousy. I was so isolated in the end, I didn’t feel like I could reach out to anyone. I’ve either made one new friend or reconnected with an old one each month since he left, and my life is again a fleshed-out, robust social experience. In the past year I’ve turned to my medical concerns, and by changing the meds I take to manage HIV, my doctor has freed me from what I did not understand was chronic, chemically induced depression. The results in my life have been transformative, literally. He dumped me at 187 pounds with 33% body fat. I wasn’t even a big drinker or anything but I looked like a goddammed gollum. Managing my own endless sadness from the drug and also serving as a buttress for Chris’s anger about his parents or his work or whatever was on the menu that given day withered me. I cannot overemphasize this. When you wake up in the morning and stare at the ceiling and wonder what in the world you’re gonna do to get your feet over the side of the bed the last thing you need is a high-maintenance boyfriend angry about god knows what today. You know you can’t get out of bed because of the eggshells but you also know that if you stay there you will wither and die, so what are you supposed to do? It’s not even breakfast yet and you’re already in crisis. Today, I weighed in at 188 pounds. After having gone down to 170 to lose the fat I’ve eaten like a horse and applied the discipline and added all the weight back as muscle. I could never have done it in so little time on my old medicine, with it’s bone deletion on top of the depression. It would have taken twice as long to do this. My last body fat check put me around 14.5 percent. Not because I need to prove anything to him about my worthiness, but because I’m getting back to the goal and hobby I loved before he turned it into a terrible chore I needed to do in order to be loved. I’ve adopted the view that I and no one else am the most important person in my life and that my time and hobbies should focus around goals that ensure my comfort and happiness. So, while I do indeed remain hung up on this anger, it’s not without reason. I need to acknowledge that constantly accusing me of cheating, demanding that my body be better without giving me the freedom to go to bed, wake up, or go to the gym when I needed to, constantly bombing me with one emotional crisis or another and forbidding me to discuss the relationship with my confidants even as he had lengthy discussions with his about it were not just the childish insecurities of a younger lover. I was stupid to wait around for him to grow out of these behaviors. I should have known that making allowances and giving the excuses and even excising my friendships to satisfy his demands were unhealthy things to do, and that doing them just surrendered more of my autonomy. I was involved in a controlling relationship and I need to say that publicly and without apology or equivocation. I was involved in a controlling relationship with a person who saw me as an accessory, and I need to say that publicly because I can’t go on just quietly being angry about it and waiting for that sensation to subside, because it hasn’t in a year. I need to acknowledge- honestly and publicly- that I am pissed. I’m pissed off about how I was treated, I’m pissed off that I was dumped with the excuse that pursuing career goals and being with me were incompatible after I was specifcally told that he couldn’t handle my taking a career in archaeology because he “couldn’t handle” me being out of town for weeks on end at digs. The irony of that excuse and the truth that he simply wanted to chase dick in bars fills me with fury. I’m pissed off that I was so weak that every one of his misbehaviors I put on other people or apologized for, I’m pissed that I made him so central that I was willing to explain away any stupid way he treated me or other people. I’m pissed off that he had the gall to say “I’m also living with HIV” and make my health concerns and arguably the biggest tragedy in my life into something that was entirely about him. I wasted so much time with psychologists because he told me to talk to them about depression, I was silent about my status around his friends and relatives in order to avoid embarrassing him while he discussed my status with who he wanted and then sought my permission retroactively. I’m angry that I didn’t have the good sense to make my health be about me. I’m most pissed off about the remark because living with HIV doesn’t end when you dump someone. Being in a discordant relationship doesn’t equate to a diagnosis, and if we had discussed my condition honestly then it wouldn’t have been a mystery to his crass, judgmental friend that I needed to disappear every night at 10 because the old drug stopped me being able to drive after dosing. The matter of my survival should not have been made into a discussion about etiquette so that a droning old queen could feign offense. I should never have to apologize for attending to my health. Fuck I might have not even been on the same fucking drug if we’d approached my depression as a drug side effect (it was) and not made it into a counseling mental health issue. But in a relationship in which my judgements and opinions were not relevant, where only his life experiences mattered, the routines and remedies that worked for him- in the gym or in the counseling chair- were the only ones worth considering. Finally, I don’t care if it was in anger over mariokart or if it was because he didn’t wanna horseplay anymore. It was not okay to hit me in anger, not even if I wasn’t meaningfully injured, not even if the stinging went away in a minute or so. It was not okay to go on shouting fits of rage and beat on walls and slam his fists on steering wheels or scream into pillows demonstratively in front of me or stamp his feet when things didn’t go as planned in his work or when there was a disagreement about house work. I am not responsible for his anger issues, and the people who are have not been able to substantially hurt him in years. It’s not about little boy Chris who was treated badly by his parents anymore, it’s about a 220 pound man who can’t control his temper in adulthood. Regardless, it is not about me and it is not my fault. PTSD is not an excuse to lose control with people. Control with people is a litmus for how well one handles PTSD, the ability to get on with other people without fits of rage should be the standard against which one rates recovery for PTSD, not just an expected PTSD thing that the rest of us are responsible for quietly tolerating. I need to say all these things, and I apologize if this posting seems dramatic or demonizing or attention seeking or whatever, but I need to say these things and give voice to my anger because being privately angry has just left me more and more progressively angry and I need to release this in some way. I’ve taken back every other aspect of my life, and yelling at no one during my commutes to work instead of enjoying music or listening to an audiobook is not who I want to be. I want to let this go so that I can be a good boyfriend to whoever I get serious with next, I want to let it go so I’m content in my life. I can’t do that silently on my own like dark clouds that clear, and so I am here to make some noise and just let a storm be a storm.