#I doubt anyone else will care at all about this

[eclips-moon]

The Batboys being clingy headcanon:

Including Duke and Bruce <3

Hope you guys like it!

Tim Drake Tim’s clinginess is low-key, but it’s also constant. He’s the type to text you “What’s up? I miss you <3” while you’re just sitting 5 feet away from him. If you so much as stand up to go get a snack, he’s immediately there, like, “Where are you going? Don’t leave me.” He’ll lean against you, his hand finding yours without him even realizing it. When you're watching TV or reading, he’s definitely leaning into your side, trying to get as close as possible without being too obvious. But if you move to shift positions? Nope, he’s following you. He’ll slip his arm around your waist, all like, “Don’t think I didn’t notice that.” He’s not a big PDA guy, but when it’s just the two of you? Prepare for cuddles, hand-holding, and small, random kisses. He’s gotta be touching you constantly.

Jason Todd Jason is obsessive, no doubt. He’s that partner who’ll try to act like he’s tough and independent, but the moment you show him any kind of affection, he’s all over you. Like, you can’t just hug him. No. He’ll climb into your lap and basically trap you there, rubbing his face into your neck like a cat. He’s gonna constantly ask for kisses, too, but not just little pecks—he wants full-on, deep kisses where he can pull you close and remind you that you’re his. If you’re doing something, like, working or even hanging out with friends, he’ll try to drag you away, be like, “Hey, come hang out with me, stop ignoring me for two seconds.” He’s possessive, but in the cutest way, constantly needing your attention. If you even talk to another person for too long, he’ll give them side-eye and pull you back to him like, “You good? You’re not gonna leave me for some random guy, are you?” He’s also the type to cling to you in bed, hogging the covers and curling up like a human koala.

Dick Grayson Dick’s clingy energy is pure gold. He’s the most affectionate of the bunch and doesn’t shy away from public displays of love. He loves hugging you from behind, nuzzling into your neck, and just randomly planting kisses all over your face. He’ll text you “miss you <3” every few hours when you’re apart, and when you’re together? It’s all about touch. He’s sitting on your lap, or leaning on your shoulder, or pulling you into his chest just because he needs to be close to you. If you’re watching a movie, he’s definitely going to have his head in your lap, just to be as close to you as humanly possible. He gets giddy when he gets attention from you, too. You could be playing with his hair, and he’ll melt. He’ll whine like, “I’m not clingy, you’re clingy. But also, I love it. So don’t stop.” Honestly, Dick doesn’t care if he’s acting like a bit of a puppy—he’s obsessed with you, and he makes sure you know it.

Damian Wayne Damian’s clingy moments are hilariously dramatic. He might start out cold, acting like he doesn’t need anyone, but as soon as you show him any affection? He’s all in. He’ll randomly grab your hand and hold it like it’s the most important thing in the world. If you try to walk away from him for whatever reason, he’ll growl and pull you back in, like, “Where are you going? You’re staying right here.” He has this whole vibe of “I don’t need anyone else, just you”, so if you’re talking to someone else or looking away from him for too long, he’ll wrap his arm around your waist and be like, “I don’t think you should be talking to them. They might steal you away from me.” In bed? He’s a hug monster, wrapping his arms around you like he’s never letting you go. He’s all about the intimacy, though—when it’s just the two of you, he’ll be soft and surprisingly vulnerable, making sure you know that he needs you more than he lets on.

Duke Thomas Duke is lowkey super clingy, but in the way that’s goofy and endearing. He loves to follow you around, like, just wherever you go, he’s tagging along. You’re going to the kitchen? He’s there. To grab something from the laundry room? He’s there. If you sit down, he’s sitting on the floor next to you, asking if you want to “cuddle and watch dumb shows together.” He’s always finding excuses to touch you—like, his hand will just casually rest on your knee or he’ll come up behind you and play with your hair. And if you don’t give him attention? He’ll pout, even if he’s trying to play it off, like, “Aren’t you gonna give me a kiss? C’mon, don’t leave me hanging.” He’s the type who’ll give you a silly smile, lean in for a kiss, and then pull you into a full-on hug like, “Don’t go. I’m not done with you yet.” He’s all about the hugs, especially after a long day. You’ll be just chilling, and suddenly he’s like, “Hug time, right? Let me get one.”

Bruce Wayne Now, Bruce is not the type to openly admit he’s clingy. He’s still the stoic, brooding billionaire who’s been through a lot, but when it’s just the two of you? He’s softer than anyone expects. He’ll always make sure you’re physically close—his hand on your lower back, your legs touching when you sit next to him, and if he’s standing near you, his hand will casually rest on your arm. When you’re working late or doing something serious, Bruce will occasionally pull you away for a few minutes just to kiss you or hold you close. He’s not great at asking for attention, but when he’s feeling clingy, he’ll show you through little gestures. You’ll find him just sitting beside you in silence, just content to be in your presence. He’s a man of few words, but when he’s clingy, it’s all about the touch—the way he holds your hand, how he presses his shoulder to yours, and how he’ll insist on driving you home or waiting up for you, just to make sure you’re safe.

[mkfshard]

This is such an infuriating problem. Another 30 year old man here, I grew up in nearly the exact same scenario as these people, preloaded with shitty beliefs. I endured the endless tumblr posts that said without nuance 'ew guys' and ragged on white people for their unaddressed racial bias, and it was painful but I endured and listened and heard the message I was supposed to hear because I wanted to be better! And I think I am, compared to the conservative-parent-puppet shitshow I was before! What are you supposed to do with people who don't have that desire? Who run home and cry into the arms of fascists when they're confronted with the barest natural pains of unlearning bigotry? Why must we have empathy for people who refuse to hone their own? When do we demand that they take responsibility for the things they say and do? They have flaws that form barriers between themselves and others; but confronting them on these flaws only makes the barriers thicker. Despite everything I have to believe that redemption is possible for them, because it was for me. But I have no idea what it looks like. Maybe someone who looks and acts 'manly' going on TikTok and making videos with conservative clickbait titles and offering gentle, baby-steps life advice and parasocial companionship for the shittiest people on Earth, but anyone who tries is going to be in the direct line of fire.

In an abstract sense, I do care about them, I do want them to exist. I want everyone in the world to have a happy, fulfilled life, to never be hurt or hurt others, and to never face injustice.

But what love can be offered white guys that we don't already have in spades? We're surrounded by mirrors in every story. We are the Default of bigotry, absolutely untouched by nearly every unfair societal ill the world has to offer, save the expectations of masculinity, a problem solved by embracing feminism. The exact thing these idiots sneer at.

It's been a very, very long time since I've seen a hyperbole-strewn post hating on white guys in aggregate, and I've more often seen pushback on that very idea. The feminists they're getting angry at are an overgeneralized, sans-nuance caricature from a decade ago, and I doubt they've read a single thing from one since.

I'm all ears for ideas, but a spiteful part of me just wants to encourage people to flatly put out a total social embargo on conservatives-- banning them from any communities you have authority over, demanding their bans elsewhere, and leaving any community that doesn't institute a ban. Give them no choice but to hide their ugly soul and listen, or else be left with nowhere and no one. ...Realistically, this would obviously just drive them to conservative communities all the harder, and clearly being stuck in smelly clubhouses with racist manbabies isn't miserable enough for them to rethink their ways and seek other outlets, or else we wouldn't have this problem to begin with. At the very least, I'm not having any in my communities.

I couldn't have said it better myself.

[puckinghischier]

Dogtooth

jack hughes x fem!reader

WARNING - SMUT!!! minors, DNI. 18+. oral!female receiving, face riding

summary: just a lil jack thot inspired by the song dogtooth by tyler, the creator

notes: this is just a repost of the little jack blurb i posted last night, i just wanted to reformat it so it’d fit in my masterlist better. but!! this is probably my favorite jack thing i’ve ever written and i’m obsessed with this song so, hope you enjoy!! 🫶🏼🫶🏼

[2.3k]

dogtooth by tyler, the creator?? that song is soooooo jack coded.

it’s the right kind of cocky but also the perfect amount of loving his woman, which is exactly how i picture jack to be in a relationship.

he’s a pretty private guy, not enjoying being in the media too much and revealing a ton about his personal life. he hates media because he doesn’t like the feeling of people assuming they know everything about him. but his girl? she knows everything about this man and he basks in the fact she knows him better than anyone else.

and when he’s down for someone? oh he’s down baddddd. i mean, pining level shit. he always wants to be around her. always calling her. always texting her. he just wants her attention 24/7, no matter what he has to do to get it.

he loves to pleasure his girl. and that’s it, really. he loves any second he can spend making her feel good, any way she wants. he doesn’t even care about the reciprocation (though he does love when she returns the favor) because knowing he’s the one to satisfy her needs is enough to put him on cloud nine all by itself.

and the second jack hears this song for the first time? oh he’s got big plans for it. (and you)

you’d be sitting on the couch, waiting on jack to get home from a mid-day skate. he sent you a text telling you he was leaving the rink around thirty minutes ago, expecting him to walk through the door any second.

no sooner than the thought entered your mind, you heard the lock click, signaling his arrival. calling out a greeting, you’re met with silence. you turn your body to see why he’s ignoring you, noticing the small white ear buds stuck in each ear.

he sets his bag down at the door, no doubt filled with his sweat soiled clothes he wants you to wash. waiting on him to look up and acknowledge you, you lay your head on the plush cushions resting against the back of the couch. you watch him, never missing an opportunity to admire how pretty he is.

finally, he looks up and meets your gaze, smiling at your love-filled eyes. he pops one headphone out while walking towards you, rolling it around in his hand.

“hey, sweets,” he leans down to place a small kiss on your waiting lips.

you savor the taste of his lips, always loving their soft feel.

“tried to say hi when you walked in, but guess you couldn’t hear me,” you gesture to the one earbud still lodged in one of his ears.

he gives you a small, apologetic look. “sorry, found a new song i really like. think you will too, actually. made me think about you.”

grabbing his phone from his pocket with his free hand, the one that’s holding the small bluetooth device brushes your hair away from your own ear, comfortably resting the earbud there.

“here’s the thing though….i want you to ride my face while we listen,” he just casually tells you, not even looking up at your face, still fiddling with his phone.

you perk up, surprised at his casualness. “i- what?”

“you heard me, before i press play i want you to ride my face.”

said face in question is dead serious, not an ounce of mischief to be found.

“you…literally just walked through the front door. what happened to asking each other about our days? or discussing what we’re gonna eat for dinner?” you ask him, not knowing how to react to the sudden proposal.

he rolls his eyes playfully. “is this your way of telling me you don’t want to? because you don’t have to. just think it’d really add to the experience, s’all” he shrugs.

you still don’t know how to react to the pure casualness of it all. by the way he’s acting you’d think he’s suggesting watching a movie, not having you ride his face in the middle of the living room.

“i didn’t say i didn’t want to. it’s just a little wild for that to be one of the first things out of your mouth when you get home.”

jack snickers at your words, walking around the large sectional to occupy the spot next to you.

“not really. not for me, at least. been thinking about it all day,” he plops down beside of you, making himself comfortable.

his words shoot excitement down to your core. he’s been thinking about it all day?

before you can think of a response, you feel shuffling next to you on the plush couch. you look over to see jack laying flat on his back, head only slightly raised to look over at you expectantly.

“so, you gonna get rid of those shorts or what?” he asks, referencing your thin, cotton pajama bottoms.

“i swear to god, if i wasn’t turned on right now i’d slap you,” you grumble, standing and removing all clothing below your waist.

jack laughs a real, out loud, laugh this time, prideful in the fact that you’ve never really been able to (or wanted to) resist any of his offers.

he burrows his body further into the couch, making sure he’s in the middle of the large surface, ensuring there’s room for your knees to rest on either side of his head.

you climb to hover over his body, looking down at his hungry eyes that are glued to your bare pussy, following every movement of your body from that landmark.

“shirt off or on?” you ask him, sitting on his toned abdomen.

“off. wanna be able to play with your boobs, please,” he flicks his eyes up to your face, an innocent smile on his own as he bats his eyelashes.

“of course you do,” you remove your (his) t-shirt from your body, now completely bare as you sit on top of him.

“swear they get bigger every time i see them,” he says in awe, bringing a hand up to massage one of your full breasts. you moan as he kneads the flesh, stomach turning flips in anticipation of what’s about to take place.

“gonna press play so we can get started or you just gonna play with my tits all night?” you huff out, loving the feeling but growing needier by the second.

it takes jack a second to register what you’re saying, too lost in the feeling of the heavy skin in his hand.

“oh! yeah, almost forgot,” he reaches up to the back of the couch where he left his phone, picking it up long enough to press play.

you scoot yourself farther up his body, resting your eager core right above his chin. all you’d have to do is relax your thighs the slightest amount to make contact with his mouth. 

suddenly you hear a smooth beat ring out in one ear, assuming jack’s hearing the same.

the second you hear the lyrics “she could ride my face i don’t want nothing in return” pour out of the earbud, jack inched his face up, licking a long, deep stripe through your folds.

you allow yourself to relax, sliding your slick pussy back and forth gently, not wanting to rush.

jack’s nose brushes your clit with every movement. you sigh at the feeling, not realizing how much you needed the friction until now.

the melody in your ear continues, but none of the lyrics are registering anymore. the feeling of jack’s tongue working through you takes every ounce of your attention.

“god, fuck! jack, best idea ever,” you moan out, picking up your pace slightly.

jack groans, letting his tongue still for a moment, allowing you to work yourself over it as you please.

fighting through the bliss radiating throughout your body, you try to focus on the lyrics at least a little bit. the chorus starts repeating, but the lyrics that follow make your head fuzzy in the best way.

“she could ride my face i don’t want nothin’ in return, except for some her time and all her love, that’s my concern” is what you focus on, the words squeezing your heart and your cunt.

jack smirks into your pussy when he hears you moan, knowing exactly which lyrics elicited the reaction from your body. you’ve always been the type to get off on the sweet nothings he whispers in your ear while he fucks into you, so he knew that line in particular would be especially helpful while his mouth is otherwise occupied.

your pace increases again as the song continues on, already halfway to your release.

jack brings his hands up to hold you still, your hole mere centimeters from his waiting tongue. he guides you to lower yourself onto the muscle, encouraging a slight bobbing motion of your body.

with every depression of your cunt onto his tongue, your clit bumps onto the tip of his nose. the pressure is a delicious form of teasing, the sensation gone nearly as soon as it’s felt each time.

“please, touch me. need you to touch me, jack. so so close,” you pant out, feeling the familiar swirl of your climax forming already.

jack grunts in response, the vibrations sending waves all throughout your body and you’re convinced you can feel it in your toes.

his hands leave your hips, traveling up your body until they find your sensitive buds, pinching and playing with each pink, taut nipple.

you jolt a bit, the motion causing your clit to slam against his nose this time. you cry out at all of the various sensations all at once. full with his tongue, rough hands on your tits, and round nose scraping against your clit.

the pure stimulation of it all forces your orgasm out of you, slamming into your body with the force of a train.

“fuck!” you scream, quickly shooting a hand out to grip the back of the couch, trying to stop yourself from collapsing on jack’s face completely.

you can barely hear the words “she can ride my face i don’t want nothin’ in return, and will i ever fall in love again? i can’t confirm,” ring through your ear, the soundtrack to your release, literally.

jack continues to work his tongue in and out of your hole while you shake and convulse above him, having to chase your entrance as you move. he continues to knead your sensitive breasts, each squeeze sending small volts through your already spent nerves.

he can feel your release dripping onto his cheeks, chin, and nose. he tries to lap up as much as he can, not wanting to miss a drop of your liquid pleasure.

your taste alone was enough to form the wet spot on his grey sweats, not embarrassed in the slightest he’s literally leaking from how turned on he is. but when he looks up at you above him, skin damp and eyes half rolled into the back of your head, mixed with the feeling of your body tightening around his tongue so harshly he can’t even pull it out, he blows his load right then and there.

he can feel the last flutters of your walls around his tongue, not stopping his movements until you pull back, having half a mind to keep going and work another orgasm out of your sensitive state. he moans through his own unprompted release, the only thing keeping him from following his sudden impulse to overstimulate you.

once the tired muscles in your thighs stop shaking, and your breath evens out, you can hear the fading of the music in your ear, signaling the end of the song. you push up slightly on your knees, detaching yourself from jack’s mouth as he chases your now swollen cunt, a small whine escaping him at the action.

“jack…the song’s over,” you manage the words somehow, in awe that he made you come in only a single song’s length.

“i can hit replay,” he rushes out, already reaching to grab his phone again.

you squeak out a slightly panicked “no,” while shaking your head, worried if he started again you might actually explode. you let yourself relax fully, scooting back so you can rest yourself on his lower abdomen once again, but the feeling of something wet stops you.

jerking back up, you turn and look down, spotting the large, wet stain on his sweatpants. you can’t stop staring at it, wondering if you’re really looking at what you think you’re looking at.

“jack…did you…” you trail off, turning back around to look at him.

he smirks as he leans himself up on his elbows. “sure did, sweets. you have no clue how much i enjoyed that.”

you laugh at his pride filled face. “pretty sure i do, seeing as i just sat on the evidence.”

he simply shrugs, patting your bare ass lightly to signal you to stand. you swing your legs over his body, standing and bending over to pick up your discarded underwear and slide it back up your legs.

“so….about that dinner conversation,” you ask him as he stands, suddenly way hungrier than you were when he first got home.

it’s his turn to laugh at you, walking over and removing the now silent earbud from your ear.

“whatever you want is fine with me. i already ate,” he gives you a kiss on the forehead then turns to walk towards the bedroom.

“oh…not even right, you dick,” you huff, following it with telling him you’re ordering his least favorite take out, a punishment for his sass.

making your way to the kitchen to dig through the different take out menus, you hear jack shout your name once again.

“i was thinking, how do you feel about that being our wedding song?” he asks, poking his now shirtless, but clean sweats clad, figure out of the bedroom door.

“jack!” you shout, scolding him as his loud cackle rings out around you, causing your own amused smile to break out on your face.

[wonderjanga]

I Want My Money.

Billy likes money, he’s said this before, but nearly all the time, money is tight. So, it’s rare when he’ll lend someone a buck or two, and when he lends them a buck, he expects that buck paid back in full.

Marvel: “Ah, Flash! You haven’t paid me back yet. I kinda need my money.” *all kind and nice*

Flash: “Huh? Oh yeah. Don’t worry, man. I got ya.”

Later…

Marvel: *a little more impatiently* “Flash? My twenty? You uh still haven’t gotten it for me.”

Flash: “Yeah dude. I’ll get it to you.”

Even more later…

Marvel: *annoyed* “Flash.” *speaking through grit teeth* “Flash get me my twenty dollars. Now.” *hands on Flash’s shoulders*

Flash: *kinda scared cause he hasn’t seen Marvel ever really show anger* “Dude, I said I’d get it for you.”

Marvel: “Yeah, now. Get it for me now. Please.”

Flash: “I- uh- I’ll be right back.” *zooms off and comes back with a twenty* “Here, man.”

Marvel: *super smiley and normal again* “Thanks, Flash.” *takes the money and walks off like nothing happened*

Flash: “No problem…” *whiplashed at the sudden change*

Wally had like no idea what to make of this interaction. The man was so generous. He didn’t think he’d be this pressed about twenty dollars. Like for example, they found space rock that could’ve been sold for millions apparently and he just gave it all to Wally like it was nothing. (Billy had no idea where to sell it. Bros never heard of eBay, not that he has an electronic device to use it on) But twenty dollars? Wow. Wally didn’t know if Marvel needed his priorities straight or what. All the speedster knew was that he was never gonna cross Marvel about money again. It’s honestly his bad anyways.

Then there was the one time Adam owed him five dollars. Don’t ask him why he lent him the money. Billy now recognizes it was a moment of weakness.

Black Adam and Marvel: *fighting*

Marvel: *stops fighting* “Dude, are you going to pay me back my money?”

Black Adam: *also stops fighting* “What are you talking about? What money?”

Marvel: “My money? Y’know, the five dollars I lent you?”

Black Adam: “Five dollars- I’m not paying you back for that!”

Marvel: “That’s common courtesy, man!”

Black Adam: “I don’t care! I’d rather die than repay you for anything!”

Black Adam didn’t really expect for this to backfire on him. As a result of not paying back a measly five dollars, Adam was met with Marvel appearing in his palace at the ass crack of dawn, demanding his money.

Black Adam: *honestly a little surprised Marvel came to Kahndaq because he’s never really came to the country before* “You do realize you’re breaching my country’s national security-”

Marvel: “I DON’T CARE. Teth, give me my money.”

Black Adam: “You’re willing to risk my country dissolving into war with your country over five dollars?”

Marvel: “Yes? Money. Now.” *makes grabby hands*

Black Adam: “Bumbling idiot…” *massages temples* “I’m not paying you back! How difficult is it to get that through your thick skull?!”

Billy did not like that answer. So now, the Justice League and everyone who had the pleasure of being online the day after this incident were met with a video of Marvel beating on Adam harsher than they, or anyone else for that matter had even seen before.

Marvel: “JUST GIVE ME MY MONEY!”

Black Adam: “NO!”

In the end, Billy still didn’t get his money. And this actually wasn’t because Adam didn’t want to pay, but rather Adam’s country doesn’t use American dollars so he went there, beat up their leader, and basically did it all for nothing. Honestly looking back at it, Billy didn’t really know what he was expecting. Neither his nor Adam suits have pockets, so he kind of doubts that he had a wallet to hold money in the first place. He was honestly just glad Adam, for whatever reason, didn’t follow through on his promise to go to war with America.

So yeah… in conclusion, Billy Batson can, and will crash out over five dollars.

[ceaselesswatchersspecialboy]

Do the twins ever get attached to stanfraud? Does bill get attached to them too? what is their relationship like? and what is their immediate reaction to finding out everything was a lie -- first impressions? GAAHH I HAVE SO MANY QUESTIONS i'm ur biggest fan bro

Thank you so much!! It really means a lot that people are enjoying my madness this much!

It’s funny because earlier I was actually doodling him and the twins!

He absolutely gets attached and they get attached in return. While their initial introduction to him is very rocky, they come to enjoy his quirks and unusual interests, especially once Dipper puts together he was the author, and he regularly supervises them on adventures, mainly because Stan asked him too, but also because it’s strangely fun. He will repeatedly claim he hasn’t gone soft to Stan, but then Stan will find him fast asleep with the twins curled up against him, or he’ll catch him helping the twins in their respective Dipper and Mabel’s guide videos. He also likes Mabel Juice! Mabel won’t take his suggestion of adding eyeballs though. Alas.

His feelings towards them are made complicated by his own denial. He doesn’t like the idea that he’s changed much at all, and these new doubts he’s experiencing about his original plans are not thoughts he’s willing to entertain for long. He gets snappy when Stan tries to reassure him it’s okay that he cares, because he doesn’t care, he’s just… playing a role. That’s all. It’s all one big lie. He can do lies. But that doesn’t really explain the genuine panic he experiences when Dipper and Mabel are in danger, and how quickly he jumps in to protect them nor does it explain the fuzzy feeling in his chest when Mabel knits him a sweater.

He’s not the same as he was thirty years ago. That’s a fact. And thirty years was once just a blip for him, but this has felt like he’s lived a whole new life.

And on the flip side, Dipper and Mabel care a lot too. He’s off-putting and he’s strange and he says some things that imply he may have committed murder and gotten away with it, but they like being around him. It isn’t always perfect, same as it is with Stan, but the rougher patches don’t tend to last, and they reconcile by the end of the day (although, Bill is usually incapable of saying sorry verbally and shows his apology through actions instead).

Dipper for one hasn’t really had anyone he can just ramble about nerd stuff with. Bill can actually keep up with Dipper, and they both find themselves enjoying the debate they have about inter dimensional travel, or what sort of haunting would be the most annoying to deal with. Dipper does sometimes catch his uncle looking at him strangely though, almost as though he’s seeing right through Dipper and looking at someone else, but he blinks and the odd look is gone, so he must have imagined it.

Bill does sometimes push Dipper’s buttons, of course, and never gives him direct answers, usually making him look for the answer himself, or read between the lines, which Dipper comes to appreciate as it, so he claims, trains his mind for mysteries. They have a very fun back and forth, honestly. Dipper thinks Stanfraud is the coolest despite all the annoyances, and he really does try his best to impress him.

Mabel meanwhile is just her usual bundle of energy, and charms her great uncle by involving him in her unhinged hijinks, and showing him the art of glitter bombing. She meets him where he’s at! Even though he can sometimes be a little extreme, even for her, she pushes herself out of her comfort zone, mainly because of what Stan told her, about how Ford lost his mind while alone. Well, she can’t have that! She makes a real effort trying to understand him, and why he thinks the way he does.

He also weirdly gives her some good advice whenever Pacifica tries to bring her down, and Mabel is both comforted and inspired by how weird he is, even in his old age. He never lets anyone shame him out of it, and he encourages Mabel to just “Be weird! Your fleshbag life is short! Why waste it caring what lesser skin puppets think?”

Bill unknowingly allows both Dipper and Mabel to feel more comfortable in themselves because of how unapologetically ‘him’ he is.

Sorry if this is messy, by the way, I’m just writing my thoughts as I go along.

Anywho, I think all of this makes finding out everything was a lie very hard hitting for them. Mabel tries to rationalise it, that sure, maybe he wasn’t really their Grunkle, but he still loved them like he was, and they loved him like a Grunkle, meanwhile Dipper reacts very negatively, because he really thought he had found someone like him, someone he confided a lot in, and now he thinks he made the wrong choice, that he was an idiot.

And Stan lied too. He admits the biggest mistake he made was not telling them, but it’s too late for that now.

The one bright side, if you can call it that, is Stan and Bill do tell them before they get Ford back. They think they’ve finally found the way to do it, and Stan wants the kids to know before they try it, give them time to process.

Okay I’ll end there for now! Thank you so much again!

[morallygreychaoticneutral]

Astarion prefers monogamy.

Again, simply my cup of thought tea steeped from my game experience. Its not everyone's drink. No shame, no blame, it's your game. Warning for triggers and spoilers.

*added note due to misunderstandings.

Please notice I said "prefers monogamy" not "is monogamous". He may be up for added partners later on down the line. But definitely not any time before the epilogue in my world.

So, why do I think he prefers monogamy?

Take..

"Iv never had anyone. Not really. Nothing that compares to you."

And mix that with...

"I had nothing for so very long. NOTHING! Not even my own body!"

And add..

"You're you. Nobody is like that."

Plus countless other comments and actions and you get a bowl full of elf who just wants something for himself only for a change.

Centuries of being forced to give up or share everything. His possessions, his person, his own thoughts. Nothing to claim as own that no one else could take or touch at any moment. I'm sure if anything was given to him, he had to fight to keep it.

I think, he would be a bit possessive of anything he could claim as his own.

You are a gift to him. Something rare and special beyond words. I highly doubt he would be willing to share anything you are sharing with him outside of friendship. I could even see him getting fussy about strangers touching you. Moving you away or putting himself physically between you and whomever just touched you without asking.

Hells, even ascended Astarion isn't 100% game to share.

"As much as I wish to sequester you in a deep chamber of my palace and keep you all to myself...there is much to be done."

But, what about Halsin? He says he's fine with it.

Is he? Or is he people pleasing?

If he had said something along the lines of,

"Oh? He wants to share does he? Of course he does. I'm not up for such activities just yet, but you are free to have as much Halsin as you wish. "

I would have gone on that bear hunt, but he doesn't.

He askes you if you are wanting to sleep with Halsin because he has not been able to meet your sexual needs. And I interpreted that as he's vulnerable and worried he's being replaced for not putting out.

Imagine you had asked your lover to not to look to you for sex for reasons you are working out. They agree and you are just relieved as hell about it.

"You were patient. You cared."

Then they come along later down the line and say they are thinking about having sex with a friend. Where would your mind go?

I would bet hard gold he weighed the options in his head. "If I don't let them do this, they might leave me for good. But if I allow it, they wont have an immediate reason to leave. Halsin is the safest option given his experience."

And what's the best way to feel less awful about a situation we cant control? Create a counter situation where we gaslight ourselves into thinking its fine.

Wheeee!

I'm not saying Halsin's offer was bad, it was perfectly fine, it was just poorly placed in the grand scheme of things. If you and Astarion were having fun again before he suggested being an extra, then it would have been easier to believe he was really fine with it.

If they wanted Astarion to be a poly partner they needed to write it better. Shadowheart makes more sense as pro poly than he does.

So for me, Astarion is a one on one elf.

I am not against polyamory. I am not trying to take representation away. I am not shaming anybody for their choices. There is just not enough specific content to support it fully FOR ME. I was actually excited at the idea of having two partners in my fantasy world. Halsin was very clear and very specific about being on board. Astarion was not. And the choice did not feel right. Add a line somewhere for Astarion where he says "Im perfectly fine with sharing, darling. As long as it is discussed and we are in agreement of course." I will happily be on board with it.

[rapunzellovesbooks]

The way I just want to hug Luke Newton and apologize on behalf of the entire Polin fandom for the shit he had to go through over a f*** picture taken without his consent. Like, I get it was the crazies, but still. Being part of the Taylor Swift fandom and seeing how she disappeared for a damn year over a leaked video taken without her consent and taken out of context villainising her... I know it must have hurt. And we can say it was months ago and that he knows who his true fans are, but still, that stuff would affect anyone, specially someone as sensitive as he is. I usually mind my own business and do not ship real people, heck, I usually do not even go online and "protect" celebrities. I tend to just focus on the happy and celebrate the characters they play but something about that June 13th and the look on his face... it haunts me to this day. And I just feel very very bad for him still.

I am deeply aware of the fact that I know nothing about his life, not really. I only know about his feelings for Polin and Nicola, because he has spoken about them. I have access to the same amount of information as the rest of the world, the pictures and videos of their WT and behind the scenes, the interviews he has done. I do not know anyone in his life and I should not have to. Neither do I know Nicola. And hey, maybe it never happens. Maybe they are happy with someone else (I doubt it, but this is just a feeling I have) and their relationship remains unique and the millions of questions we have never get answered. My point is, I got into this fandom because seeing their bond brought me joy. I don´t think them having other people in their lives diminishes that, which is why the hate he got over one picture never sat right with me. I do not get how it affects someone´s viewing experience of a show. I do not understand why we are so focused on labelling people´s relationships, as if it is as easy as saying a pencil is pink or green. It makes me happy seeing their videos and waiting for crumbs. I have fun hoping that what I truly see as more than platonic feelings will come to fruition.

I write this because the world is in shambles right now. And the last thing anyone needs is to add more negativity to it. So, I hope that we can, in the Lukola fandom, be kind and focus on the good. I do not give a shit about paparazzi photos or whatever the "adjacents" or however you want to call them do. In fact, I have not once looked at A´s or JD´s SM, nor do I want to. They are human beings, but not the human beings I care about. Even if they are involved in Luke and Nic´s lives, I will never send them hate or bad mouth them. I have no idea what they are to them. All I know is what L and N have said about each other. And it has always been good. So, that is where I will be.

And, yes, I truly believe they will be together. And I will be happy with anything that suggests it so, cause this is supposed to be fun and joyful. I, unlike other people, do not label people as gf or bf UNLESS it comes directly from the people involved. And if anyone ever confirms or launches anything, I will still be here. Cause that is what shipping is. Not hate, not negativity, not putting other people down, not invading someone´s privacy, not thinking that a moment in time is forever (people break up all the time, there is no way to know if someone is still with someone if there was never a "launch" or whatever you want to call it).

It would make both Luke and Nicola sad to see that a connection that is supposed to bring people joy is putting people against each other. I know we were so well fed with content over so many months that now we hold onto every detail we have not dissected yet. I get it. I also miss them. But that is the way it is supposed to be. We are not supposed to know everything. We are just supposed to be grateful and happy for when something good related to them happens. That is all and that is my hope for this fandom.

Spread joy and leave the rest out of it. Spiralling only makes people dizzy. Let us "get some vision, bro" like Luke said.

Thank you for reading and, remember, be kind to one another.

[pomefioredove]

um um. the nbc boys with a reader thats smart and learns easily but has trouble keeping up with the school system(? for lack of better words). they get distracted and bored easily, forget about homework, doodle on their papers and stare out the window, etc. they get great test scores and do exceptionally well when they are interested in what they’re learning, but otherwise get burned out really quick. i don’t know much about your nbc but it seems like the system is pretty fast paced and doesn’t really leave room for mistakes! 🫶🫶 i love your designs for nbc so far. can already tell the readers gonna have a blast (and a migraine)

my first ever noble bell oc request... rubs my hands together evilly

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ no room for mistakes (noble bell college)

inspired by my AU

type of post: headcanons characters: rollo, original characters; pierrot, bou, phoenix, clodio additional info: romantic or platonic, reader is gender neutral, reader is yuu

Rollo Flamme will arrange a precise time to study with you every day, whether you ask him or not. it's within his best interest that you succeed at Noble Bell (heavens forbid you're shipped off to a lesser, simpler arcane academy like that terrible Night Raven College), and so there will be no room for mistakes. this isn't something you should take for granted, either; Rollo is a very busy man, and to have an hour of his time for him to tutor you is a privilege. at least, that's what everyone else will tell you

to Rollo, this is nothing. he would make his whole weekend for you, if you asked. perhaps his whole life

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Pierrot Gregoire is probably the last person you should be going to for help. yes, he's exceptionally intelligent in the ways of history and literature, and yes, he could lecture you for hours longer than your actual professor does, but I doubt you would actually get anything but a headache out of it. he's a poet, not a tutor, and he has a tendency to talk himself in circles, go on tangents, anecdote about his personal life... yeah. it would take a special sort of mind to keep up with him, otherwise, you're probably better off trying to make sense of his unorganized class notes... which are just as full of doodles and daydreams as yours

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Bou de Neige is known for making harsh judgments about his peers... which are often accurate. and so he can tell, by the way you talk and articulate and express, that you're not a blithering idiot. you only lack the discipline that the typical Noble Bell College student has. and if it weren't for Rollo's faith in you, and his own damned pity, Bou would have been happy to let you fail...

...but he doesn't. he sits next to you in classes and pinches your arm when you're dozing off, or not paying attention to something important. he leers over you and corrects the mistakes on your homework before you turn it in. he begins carrying clean paper for you to doodle on, and insists it's nothing (it's so over for him)

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Phoenix Bussiere is not what I would call a trustworthy tutor. he's not even a trustworthy student. oh, but don't think he wouldn't love to waste a few hours every week "helping you study" while he vandalizes 500 year old wood desks and falls asleep in the library. he's way too eager to volunteer. and how can you say no? his attention is highly valuable; the jealous glares of other students make that obvious. and perhaps you wouldn't have minded working alone, without anyone breathing down your neck... except he doesn't let you. he couldn't care less about the homework, but he'll ask you a thousand questions about yourself

...you can never quite tell if he actually cares, or if he's just passing the time

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

if you think Clodio LeFou would be the worst of the group, you'd be very wrong. is it chaotic? yes. but he'll teach you Latin while hanging upside down (and he's really quite good at it). he's managed to get by at Noble Bell without raising any eyebrows, after all, and his grades certainly reflect that. he'll act out your history lessons and critique your writing assignments like a professional. he'll make a puppet just to teach you math. it's unconventional, especially for Noble Bell, but it's much better than the dry lectures from your professors. you'll take what you can get

[howlsofbloodhounds]

I'm thinking about the AU where people don't recognize Killer as himself because he doesn't act how they expect and it got me thinking that, if he'd had teammates (just Cross, or also Dust and Horror, doesn't matter) they may also struggle to recognize him.

Like, think about it, there's no way in Hell he acted anywhere close to how he acts with Color for as long as he was still under Nightmare. He was in survival mode, constantly alert, dissociating most of the time. He probably acted like a whole other person. He probably dressed very differently too because I like to think that he started exploring self-expression through clothing once he finally got free.

I also don't think he'd tell them.

It would be interesting to see how they'd end up navigating being around each other with that kind of dynamic or if Killer would just straight up try to avoid them as much as possible...

Honestly, gang, this could be the case even in a typical canon adjacent bad sanses au. I highly doubt any of the rest of the gang will know killer as much as they think they do. It’s be rather easy for all of them to dehumanize and/or villianfy Killer in some shape or form.

Not only because he’s very likely spends most of his time in Stage 2, playing his roles and the game and fulfilling his duties and tasks as if he’s more a robot than something as real as the others view themselves to be underneath all that acting and masking and pretending to be comrades, i wouldn’t be surprised if Nightmare keeps him isolated from the others in any way that matters. Or more than that, Killer keeps himself isolated—even if not physically most of the time. Even if Nightmare’s not around to enforce anything.

So they may think they know Killer, they know he’s Nightmare’s—they know he’s not on their side, even as he performs his duties and does his job, even if that job requires attending to and taking care of them. But they wouldn’t even recognize him in Stage 1.

At most, all they know is that Killer acts strange sometimes—and the Boss doesn’t like it. Deals with it swiftly. Sometimes Killer goes missing for a few hours or days and returns back as if nothing ever happened.

They may think that sometimes Killer malfunctions and breaks, and because of his issues, they all pay the price for it. Maybe they’d even prefer when he’s in Stage 2, if Nightmare ever cracks down on the rest of the Gang because of Stage 1’s actions costing him negativity and hindering missions.

They wouldn’t recognize Killer when he’s alone and by himself in Stage 2 either—quieter and more reserved and more obviously and noticeably disengaged. Mostly because he’s never just relaxing whenever anyone else in nearby—even if it may look like it on the surface.

I doubt they’d recognize a Killer that was with them versus one that got away, or as they may see it, chose to leave. Color’s Killer actually seems to be alive.

[aventurineswife]

Stages of Shadows: Chapter 4 - Unexpected Friendship

The air buzzed with excitement as the audience erupted in applause, their cheers echoing off the high ceilings of the grand theater. Aventurine, with his flamboyant style and magnetic presence, commanded the stage, seamlessly weaving together an intricate tapestry of dance and music. His performance was a testament to his talent, captivating those lucky enough to witness it.

In stark contrast to the exhilaration surrounding him, [Name] sat slumped against the wall in the waiting room, staring blankly at the floor. Shadows danced across their features as flickering lights from the stage illuminated their downturned face. The cheers and music felt distant, muffled by the weight of grief and anxiety pressing down on their chest. Robin’s death loomed heavy in their mind, a constant reminder of the fragility of life in this brutal competition.

Across the room, Ratio leaned against the doorframe, his muscular build casting a long shadow. He observed the other contestants milling about, but his focus remained fixed on [Name]. While most were lost in conversations or preparing for their own performances, [Name] was isolated in their sorrow, an island amidst a sea of vibrant life.

Ratio knew that it was time to act. He pushed himself off the frame and walked over to [Name], his presence commanding but measured. “You seem lost in thought,” he remarked, his voice steady and confident. “As though the world is pressing down on your shoulders. Would you care to share what’s on your mind?”

[Name] looked up, surprise flickering across their features. They hadn’t expected anyone to approach them, let alone someone as imposing as Ratio. “I—” they started but faltered, words caught in their throat. Instead, they lowered their gaze again, unable to meet his intense eyes.

“Do you think avoiding conversation will ease your burden?” Ratio pressed gently, crossing his arms. “You’re not the only one who carries a heavy heart in this place.”

At his words, [Name] finally met his gaze, feeling a flicker of curiosity. “What do you know about burdens?” they replied, a hint of defiance in their voice. “You seem too busy with your own ambitions to care about anyone else.”

Ratio’s expression softened slightly. “On the contrary. My ambitions stem from a desire to eradicate ignorance and share knowledge with others. But that doesn’t mean I’m oblivious to the pain around me. I’ve witnessed the struggle in many faces, including yours.”

[Name] inhaled sharply, feeling a twinge of something—recognition, perhaps. “I don’t know how to handle this,” they admitted, their voice barely above a whisper. “Robin—she was my friend. But… now she’s gone. I don’t know how to keep going.”

The vulnerability In [Name]’s voice struck a chord in Ratio. “Grief can be consuming,” he acknowledged, his tone shifting to something more empathetic. “But you must find a way to navigate through it. Knowledge is a powerful tool; it can guide you when all feels lost.”

“Easy for you to say,” [Name] shot back, frustration bubbling beneath their words. “You’re a genius. You have all the answers. What do you know about loss?”

Ratio’s expression hardened for a brief moment before he regained his composure. “I may not know your specific pain, but I’ve faced my own losses. The world is filled with cruelty and hardship, yet I refuse to succumb to despair. I channel my grief into purpose.”

Intrigued by his earnestness, [Name] felt the walls they had built around themselves begin to crack. “And what’s your purpose in this competition? To show off your intellect? To prove something to those who doubt you?”

“Partly,” Ratio admitted, a flicker of vulnerability crossing his face. “But more importantly, I want to inspire others. I believe knowledge should be accessible to all, not just a select few. This competition offers a unique platform to reach people who might otherwise remain in the dark.”

Aventurine’s performance reached its climax, and the audience erupted into rapturous applause, bringing the waiting room back into focus. Ratio’s gaze shifted towards the screen momentarily, then returned to [Name]. “You see, we all have our own battles to fight. Yours may seem insurmountable right now, but perhaps you can find a way to transform that pain into something powerful.”

“Powerful?” [Name] echoed, skepticism lacing their tone. “How? How can I turn this agony into strength?”

Ratio’s expression softened further, revealing a glimpse of the man behind the intellect. “By sharing your story, by connecting with others who understand your struggle. It may not happen overnight, but every step counts. You don’t have to walk this path alone.”

For the first time, [Name] considered his words. They had been so consumed by their grief that they hadn’t thought about how sharing their pain could foster connection. “You really believe that?” they asked, searching Ratio’s eyes for sincerity.

“I do,” Ratio replied firmly. “And I’d be honored to help you find that strength. We can challenge this competition and the expectations that come with it. Knowledge and compassion can pave the way for a brighter future—even in a place like this.”

As Aventurine won his performance, the sound of applause washed over them once more, but this time, [Name] felt a spark of hope flicker within. Perhaps, just perhaps, they could forge a connection amidst the chaos.

This unexpected twist meant they would have to work together, possibly forcing them to confront their own struggles side by side.

“Looks like our paths are intertwined,” Ratio said with a hint of amusement, though the underlying tension was palpable. “Are you ready for what lies ahead?”

Taking a deep breath, [Name] nodded, feeling a mix of apprehension and newfound determination. “Let’s see what we can do together.” they replied, a flicker of resolve igniting in their chest.

However, as they prepared to face the trials ahead, an unsettling thought nagged at the back of [Name]’s mind—a sense of foreboding that something darker was lurking just beyond the horizon of their newfound partnership.

“Just remember,” Ratio said, his gaze steady, “in this competition, we’re not only battling for ourselves but for those we’ve lost. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

[Name] felt a chill run down their spine, a premonition that echoed ominously within. The weight of his words lingered in the air, a fragile promise underscored by the reality of their perilous surroundings. In this arena of ambition and peril, they both knew that not everyone would make it through unscathed, and somewhere in the depths of their hearts, a fear grew that one of them might soon pay the ultimate price.

As the applause thundered through the walls, Sunday found refuge in the solitude of a dimly lit bathroom. The sounds of excitement and celebration in the waiting room felt like distant echoes, mocking the void inside him. He gripped the cold porcelain sink, knuckles whitening as he leaned over, desperately trying to steady himself. His eyes, usually clear and resolute, were clouded with grief and a pain he couldn’t seem to shake.

The loss of Robin hung over him like a storm he couldn’t escape, a ceaseless torrent of guilt and sorrow. Memories of his sister—her laughter, her strength, her unwavering kindness—flooded his mind, each one a dagger that twisted deeper into his heart. He remembered the last conversation they’d had, the words they’d left unsaid. If he had been there for her…

A tremor ran through him, and he swallowed hard, his throat tight with suppressed emotion. Sunday wasn’t one to reveal his vulnerabilities, especially not now, when so many were depending on him to remain strong, rational, and composed. But in this moment, all pretense fell away. He was just a brother grieving his sister, grappling with a loss he couldn’t protect her from.

“Robin…” he murmured, his voice barely audible, thick with pain. The name felt like broken glass on his lips, sharp and cutting. His grip on the sink tightened further, and his reflection in the mirror blurred, obscured by the tears he refused to shed. How had he failed her so utterly? How had he let her slip away in this brutal competition, this world that valued survival over compassion, cruelty over kindness.

He took a shaky breath, forcing himself to keep standing. There were others still here, others he was responsible for, others who could still be saved. But the thought felt hollow. What was the point if he couldn’t save the one person who’d mattered most to him?

Sunday’s shoulders slumped, and he closed his eyes, trying to regain a semblance of composure. But the weight of his loss was overwhelming, pressing down on him with unrelenting force. For the first time in his life, he felt truly powerless.

He heard faint footsteps outside, voice muffled but growing closer. He clenched his jaw, willing himself to bury his grief, to hide it as he always did. The world wouldn’t care about his pain. It had never cared. And he wasn’t sure he had the strength to care anymore, either.

[totallyjustabunchofhocuspocus]

Fic: Something to Sink Your Teeth Into 20/?

Pairing: Buck/Tommy (cause I still love this bar and everyone in it, y'all)

Vampire/Witch!AU

Read on AO3

Tommy watched Evan turn a slow circle in the middle of Greenway’s living room, a thoughtful frown on his face as his eyes darted to and fro. His gaze skated over the weirdly impersonal décor and furnishings, the frown only deepening on his face as they lit on a decorative mirror propped in the corner of one of the built-in shelves.

Evan seemed more present now that they were actually doing something constructive—the strange, almost shellshocked quiet that had enveloped him after Alonzo left the bungalow finally falling away a bit. Tommy was fully willing to admit he was using the idea of worrying about Evan’s reaction to distract himself from his own thoughts on what he’d just done, but he didn’t think he was wrong to be worried. Evan’s face when Tommy had dissolved his alliance with Alonzo’s coven…

After nearly a thousand years of practice, humans were easy to read. Even humans he did not know well. And yet, Tommy didn’t understand the depth of emotion that had been plastered across Evan’s handsome face. Shock and disbelief. Confusion and wariness. Even a touch of suspicion. All perfectly reasonable reactions, expected even. But beneath it all had been something so heartbreakingly fragile. Tremulous. As though in the end, Evan was not surprised that Tommy could do what he did, but that he would do it for Evan.

And it had been for Evan.

Tommy could claim that he was looking at the bigger picture, that his coven bond was a sacrifice he was willing to make for the possibility of avoiding coven war. He could claim it was the easiest way to protect his coven from as much of the fallout of what he was doing as possible. Neither were untrue statements, after all. The truth was, though, he would have taken the out of pretending to have been spelled if it had been any other witch offering it to him. He still could have helped Howie and Grant. Might have been able to help them more with the resources of his coven available. Evan’s plan had left Evan in the most danger. And so it was unacceptable.

Evan’s reaction was making him think that his witch was disturbingly unused to someone considering the idea that Evan might get hurt unacceptable.

Unbidden, the memories he’d seen when he drank from Evan rose in his mind. The utter, helpless sense of isolation that had enveloped his witch as he stood before the Pennsylvania high coven. The resignation. The despair. He knew Evan loved his sister beyond all reason, had gotten the sense that it was entirely mutual…but now he wondered who else in his witch’s life had ever made him feel like that. His parents? His familiar? His coven? Tommy was beginning to think the list had been distressingly thin even before Evan had been banished.

Tommy could sympathize. He had lived almost three centuries knowing beyond a shadow of a doubt that he could not trust anyone around him. That no one cared about him outside of what service he could provide them. That no one would come to his defense if he was ever in danger, or if his bastard of a maker ever decided to get rid of him. They had been miserable, lonely centuries. Even being covenless after the bastard was finally killed had seemed like a relief. Finding friendship, brotherhood, and eventually a coven with Sal—and others, later—had seemed like an impossible dream when it happened. A dream he’d always thought he would defend tooth and nail, something he would never give up now that he had it.

He'd given it up for his witch, and he did not regret it. It hurt. He was sure it would hurt more when he finally had a chance to sit down and really feel it. He was also sure it would not hurt as much as knowing that his witch had been injured or killed while he wasn’t there to protect him. Tommy still did not understand the intensity of the connection he felt to Evan…but he was done questioning in. His instincts had never steered him wrong, not in nearly a thousand years. Those instincts insisted now that Evan belonged with him, and he belonged with Evan. His witch was vital to him in a way he had never experienced before, and he wasn’t letting go of that connection unless Evan himself told Tommy he didn’t want him around anymore.

He watched Evan turn another slow circle in the room, standing in a patch of afternoon sunlight that poured in from the large front window. He looked as though he’d been made to be bathed in the light Tommy could no longer endure, haloed by the warm glow, his curly hair turning a lighter, sandy blond, finally absent of the pallor that Tommy’s drinking from him and the strain of casting so much magic had left him with. Beautiful. So fucking beautiful.

And that…that was not something he needed to be thinking about right now.

He shook his head, bringing his attention back to the thoughtful frown on Evan’s face and not how tempting he looked, kissed by the sunlight. His witch had paused, his hands on his hips as he narrowed his eyes.

“They really didn’t find anything?” he asked.

“Nada,” Tommy confirmed, watching as Evan looked all around him. “Why? What are you thinking?”

“Nothing, I just…there’s something…” he trailed off, his eyes going strangely distant as he looked around the room yet again. Then he stilled. “Oh, you’ve gotta be kidding me,” Evan muttered.

“What?” Tommy demanded immediately.

In answer, Evan spun another slow circle in the center of the room, one hand reaching out as though he were touching something in the air in front of him. “He hid something else here,” Evan said at last. “Fucking smart bastard, I’ll give him that.”

It was Tommy’s turn to frown. His witch had certainly proven himself to be competent, and even with the limitations his banishment placed on him, Evan was powerful. However… “Evan, what are you talking about? I’m pretty sure Howie and Grant would have known to look in this between place.”

“Yeah, but they might not have realized how big the between is here,” Evan countered. “Like I said…it’s not something a lot of witches learn anymore.”

Tommy tilted his head, crossing his arms over his chest. “You keep talking like the size of it can change. Isn’t space…you know, space? Like there have to be boundaries.”

“Ever been in one of those house of mirrors they do at fairs and theme parks?” Evan asked, taking a deep breath. He started to chant, the same words he’d used in the office building, and just now in the SUV to get them onto the porch. The hair on the back of Tommy’s neck started to rise this time, though, the air in the living room suddenly feeling oddly heavy. At the crest of his spell, Evan reached forward and made a grasping motion, his hand closing on empty air. There was a soft pop, and then the heavy feeling vanished.

On the desk in front of the window, there was now a leatherbound book that Tommy knew had not been there before. Evan grinned to himself and hurried forward, snatching the book up and starting to pull at the corners where it was tied shut with elastic bands. Tommy edged closer, carefully avoiding the shafts of sunlight that still poured through the window.

“Great work Ev—GET DOWN!”

He had only seconds to react. The space of a few of Evan’s breaths. Had he kept farther back in the room to avoid the sunlight, he might not have been at an angle to see at all when three figures suddenly came sprinting towards Greenway’s house from across the street, one of them winging its arm back to fling something small and black toward the window. Tommy was across the distance between him and Evan in a flash, ignoring the pain when the sunlight hit his skin, the sizzling hiss. Sunlight was no longer an instant death for him…but it still hurt like a bitch.

That didn’t matter, though. He wrapped himself around his witch, his only thought to shield Evan from what his mind had barely had time to register as some kind of flashbang or explosive. Even vampire speed wasn’t fast enough to stumble more than a step or two away from the desk before the window shattered and the device hit the desk. Tommy squeezed his eyes shut, pulling Evan more tightly against him as it went off.

Explosive.

Small, the part of him that had fought in more battles and conflicts than he would ever be able to remember noted. Not a large payload, else he and Evan would be vaporized. But enough. Enough to lift him off his feet and throw them across the room. Enough to destroy the desk, wall, and window, no doubt leaving a jagged hole in Greenway’s house. Enough to fill the room with flying shrapnel.

Pain blossomed on his back, white-hot, sudden and so intense he almost choked on it even as he and Evan hit the ground and he was consumed with lessening the impact, cradling Evan close, protecting his head as they rolled and rolled. His chest felt like it was on fire, his ears filling with a horrendous wet, shifting crack above the roar of the explosion and Evan’s wordless cries.

They came to a halt in a tangle of limbs, resting on their sides, and Tommy couldn’t move for precious seconds, pain radiating through him at levels even he couldn’t ignore. Impalement. Not a sensation that you could forget no matter how long it had been since it happened. Too low to hit his heart. Too far to the right to impact his spine. But a massive injury that would take time to heal, even with the effects of drinking Evan’s blood still relatively fresh.

Evan coughed underneath him, stirring and trying to sit up. “Tommy?” he gasped, the second time he’d called Tommy by name. It sounded just as sweet on Evan’s tongue as it had the first time, despite the dire situation. “Tommy, what—”

He grabbed Tommy’s shoulder and pushed at him. Tommy tried; he fucking tried to get up, to get his feet under him. He had to. He had to get up and move, because he could hear whoever had just attacked them clambering through the hole where the window used to be. He had to…

Evan wrenched himself backwards suddenly, looking down between them. His eyes went wide with horror at the sight of the huge piece of wood protruding from Tommy’s chest, nearly long enough to have impaled Evan as well. The scent of blood—Evan’s blood, too, but not much, not enough to overpower the dead scent of Tommy’s, he couldn’t have been injured badly—wafted up in a cloud around them. Their clothes were soaked with it, and Tommy could feel more crawling up the back of his throat.

“Tommy! Tommy, what—” Evan started again, and Tommy shook his head.

“Evan…run,” he managed to grit out, his own blood filling his mouth and spilling from his lips.

“Aw, come on Kinard. Let the witch stay.”

Tommy grit his teeth, fresh determination welling up in him as he recognized the voice of the blond vampire from the office building. Fucking hell, he needed to get up. He needed to keep Evan safe, needed to give him a chance to escape. If he could just get out of the house, he could run—the sun would be enough protection for him. He’d be safe as long as Tommy could keep Blondie and his thugs off his witch for just a little bit.

Evan’s eyes snapped to Blondie over Tommy’s shoulder. Tommy saw his eyes go wide and flicker between the three figures, no doubt coming to the same conclusion that Tommy had. He renewed his efforts to push himself up. If he could get to his feet, he could rip the shrapnel impaling him out.

He might even live long enough for the wound to start healing.

Before he could make any progress, though, Evan’s face…changed. His eyes narrowed. His jaw tightened. His pretty blue eyes went absolutely cold as ice, a cold sort of rage filling them. The low-level staticky electricity of magic that always clung to him increased what felt like tenfold between one breath and the next. Then his arm curled protectively over Tommy’s back, pulling Tommy’s body closer to Evan’s, and he started shouting a spell.

It felt different than any of the other displays of Evan’s power that Tommy had witnessed so far. Harsher. Stronger. Tommy had no idea what Evan was chanting, but he could tell the spell was meant to hurt. Power crackled around his witch, pouring off him in a wave that exploded outwards, racing towards Blondie and the other two faster than even vampire reflexes could deal with. The spell swirled through the air like something alive, more magic than Tommy had felt in centuries powering it. The white light of witch’s magic lit up the room, brighter even than sunlight.

Evan’s voice was ragged by the time he finished chanting, his chest heaving, brow furrowed in exertion, but his movements were steady as he disentangled himself from Tommy and got slowly to his feet. His hands were strong when he reached down and gripped Tommy’s arms, helping him up as well. The movement brought fresh pain, fresh blood welling up from the edges of the gigantic, sucking wound in his chest, and his knees nearly buckled when he finally made it up. Smoothly, Evan slipped his shoulder under one of Tommy’s arms, wrapping his arm around Tommy’s waist and taking most of Tommy’s weight.

“Evan,” he bit out with a gasp, finally able to turn and face Blondie with his witch’s help.

“I’ve got this,” Evan said, tightening his grip around Tommy’s waist. The icy anger in them cracked as they flicked up and down Tommy’s body, worry shining in them for a bare instant before he flicked his gaze back to Blondie and the other two.

Who had made no move to attack. Why hadn’t they attacked?

The three vampires were standing less than ten feet away from them, just barely out of the sunlight pouring in through the gaping hole that the explosive had created. Blondie’s whole body was trembling, unadulterated fury twisting his face into an ugly mask. The other two weren’t shaking as much…and they looked terrified.

“Will taking that out make it better or worse?” Evan asked him, flicking a quick look at the shrapnel that had run Tommy through.

In answer, Tommy gripped the end that sprouted from his chest, and with a roar of agony that he absolutely refused to feel any shame over, he pulled it the rest of the way through his body. He let the bloodied piece of what had been Greenway’s desk drop from numb fingers, pressing his hand futile against the now-gushing wound in his chest. Evan’s arm tightened around him again, the hand that was gripping Tommy’s wrist to keep his arm slung over Evan’s shoulders spasming.

“I’ll…be okay,” Tommy groaned. “What’d...what’d you do…to them?”

Evan’s face was terrible to look at, absolutely devoid of emotion as he glared straight at Blondie. “Tell me who you’re working for,” he said, the words oddly heavy. They dripped with magic. Bristled with it.

Blondie’s eyes were filled with pure hatred, his jaw working soundlessly for a moment before he managed to grind out, “Fuck…you!” His body shook as though he was being held by some invisible force.

Sweat started to bead on Evan’s forehead, his face a mask of concentration, and with a sickening start, Tommy realized what his witch had done. “You thralled them?”

What the fuck?

What the fuck?

There were spells witches could use to control people. Some were even strong enough to hold vampires. Evan himself had suggested that Tommy pretend to be a victim of such a spell. But three at once? At least one of them being as strong as Blondie obviously was? When Evan’s power was diminished by not having a coven?

What the fuck?

Evan took a step backwards, half dragging Tommy with him. His eyes darted down to the bloodied chunk of wood that had impaled Tommy, and then to one of Blondie’s companions. “Pick it up,” Evan said, his voice lower and more dangerous than Tommy had ever heard it. Again, the words came out…heavy. Laced with so much magic it was like pure lightning falling from Evan’s lips.

The nameless vampire, shorter than Tommy and Blondie both, with a head of messy black curls and a scar over one eyebrow, was not as old as Blondie. Or as powerful. His face was a rictus of terror as he stepped toward the piece of wood, his steps barely faltering.

“Don’t,” he pleaded as he bent down and picked up the sharp, jagged shrapnel. “Please…don’t…”

“You would’ve killed him,” Evan said, nothing even remotely resembling pity in his voice. He looked at the third vampire, another man who looked as though he’d been a bouncer in his human life, and pointed. “Don’t miss the heart.”

Blondie trembled like he was trying to slam himself against the force of Evan’s will as the other vampire turned towards the third, shifting the piece of wood in his hand until he was holding it like a sword. With slow, jerky motions, the vampire marched on his companion, the wood held straight out in front of him.

Tommy had seen plenty of his own kind staked through the heart. Many times, he’d even been the one to do it. It was still not something he enjoyed watching, knowing exactly what would happen to him if he ever found himself on the other end. The vampire under Evan’s control plunged the wooden shrapnel into his companion’s chest, barely any hesitation to show he was fighting. The other vampire let out an unearthly shriek, nearly convulsing as thick veins of black spread over every inch of skin that had been left exposed, expanding outwards like cracks in a windshield. Then his body started crumbling before their eyes. Like the vampire was made of nothing but sand being washed away by a wave, his body collapsed into a cloud of ash.

Blondie’s enraged struggles abated somewhat, and Evan’s grimace eased, his concentration no longer split between three vampires. He was silent a moment, and then his jaw tightened and he spat out a spellword, flinging his hand out towards the vampire still holding the wooden shrapnel, staring in horror at what he’d just done. A ball of fire erupted in the air and sped towards him.

And another pile of ash rained down on the hardwood floors.

“Who. Did. This?” Evan said again, all of his focus, all of his will, all of his power coming to bear on the last vampire. Tommy could only stare at Evan’s face, too weak to do anything but let his witch hold him up as his body struggled to heal the wound in his chest. Evan’s face was a mask of fury equal to Blondie’s, no mercy in his eyes.

Blondie was still struggling, but Tommy knew at a glance that he wasn’t going to be able to throw off the spell. Not with Evan’s magic no longer divided. A dark sort of satisfaction unfurled in him, accompanied by eagerness. Answers. Fucking finally.

Blondie snarled at them, but finally growled out. “Ortiz. It’s all…Ortiz.”

Tommy reeled back at that. He gathered himself to start questioning Blondie, but Evan beat him to it. “Why does Ortiz want to start a coven war? She’s allying with Gerrard.” Evan glanced over at Tommy for confirmation, and he gave a short nod.

“Ortiz doesn’t want…an ally. She…wants it all.” Blondie looked like he wanted to bite his tongue in half rather than keep talking. “She’s been…stirring up the witches…for months. Killed…half a dozen with…Greenway’s help.”

Evan went very still beside him, his hand tightening on Tommy’s wrist almost to the point of pain.

“Why?” Evan demanded, but Blondie shook his head.

“Don’t know…his angle. Gerrard’s party…was…supposed to be…the finale. A dead witch for the…high coven. Gerrard would look…like he was trying…to bring down…the witches on Ortiz’s…coven.”

There had been vampires at the party who knew who Evan was the whole time, Tommy realized. Or had at least known that he was witch. They’d intended for one of Ortiz’s turns to kill Evan at the party, and then it would have looked like Gerrard had deliberately planted Evan to make trouble for Ortiz with the SoCal high coven, or was so fucking incompetent, he didn’t realize that there was a witch right under his nose. Gerrard would have gotten the blame for the chaos that a witch’s death at his party would have caused.

And Ortiz would have been in her rights to challenge him instead of allying with him.

“Damn it,” he hissed. Evan looked over at him worriedly.

“Is that enough for Chimney and Grant?” he asked. He was still sweating, the corners of his eyes starting to go tight with the strain of holding Blondie, along with all the other magic he’d been performing.

“It’ll have to be,” Tommy groaned. “Don’t hurt yourself.”

Evan’s lips quirked upwards in a wry smile. “Says the guy with a six-inch hole in his chest.”

Blondie managed to shake his head, glaring at Evan balefully. “You’re both…gonna die…screaming,” he gritted out. Despite himself, Tommy felt his fangs drop at the implied threat to his witch.

“You first,” he growled, and started to let go of Evan; started to step forward.

“Don’t,” Evan said, not even bothering to try and hold Tommy back, just quietly asking. Tommy was not surprised that it was enough to still his movements…what was surprising was that Evan didn’t look shocked either. Evan smiled up at him again, his expression softening slighting before he turned his attention back to Blondie. His face went hard as stone again, and he looked out over Blondie’s shoulder to the gaping hole where the window used to be, and the sunlight pouring in through it. He focused on Blondie again, and pointed. “Walk,” he ordered.

There was something immensely satisfying in the way that Blondie’s eyes widened in terror before his body obeyed, turning jerkily and starting to march forward.

The moment he stepped into the sunlight, Tommy could hear his skin start to sizzle and hiss. A groan of pain escaped Blondie’s lips as he kept walking, thin wisps of smoke starting to rise from his exposed hands and face. The back of his head and next started to bubble and blister, though he didn’t catch fire yet.

Tommy could endure direct sunlight for at least a couple of minutes. He might be able to take it for longer, but he’d never dared to experiment. The damage he’d taken after two minutes had been enough to kill his curiosity. Blondie was fairly old. He had recently drunk witch blood.

But he wasn’t as old as Tommy was. And witch blood could only do so much.

The smoke rising off Blondie’s exposed skin grew thicker. Blisters burst and hissed and spat. Every bit of him not covered by his clothes turned an angry, excruciating red before scabbing over like the skin had been cauterized, vampire healing trying mightily and being unable to stand against sunlight. He looked as though some invisible force was pouring acid down over his head, and still he kept marching determinedly forward. By the time he was crawling through the destroyed window, he was screaming.

By the time he made it into the middle of Greenway’s yard, he was sobbing.

Black, oily smoke rose from his body, until with a final, animalistic shriek of pain, his body burst into flames. Incredibly, he kept trying to walk forward, only for his limbs to give out after a couple steps. Blondie collapsed on the lawn in a burning heap, and Evan sucked in a gulp of air like he’d been drowning and had finally breached the surface.

“Are you all right?” Tommy demanded, trying to take more of his own weight as Evan swayed a little under him.

Evan shook his head as though trying to clear it, and then firmed up his stance. He didn’t let Tommy shift away from him…and honestly, Tommy wasn’t sure he didn’t still need the support. “I’m good,” Evan muttered stubbornly. “We have to get out of here. Grant must’ve powered the look-away charms back up when they were here, but there’s no way in hell they hold against all this for long.”

“No argument here,” Tommy said. He bit his lip, before reluctantly asking, “Think you can manage to, uh, fold us? Back into the car?”

Evan frowned slightly, something like confusion flashing in his eyes before he nodded. “I…yeah. Yeah, I’m good,” he said. “Come on, I need to be able to see the car.”

They began limping towards the front door, Tommy still having to lean most of his weight on his witch. But Evan’s arm was strong around his waist, his shoulder solid beneath Tommy’s arm. For just a moment, Tommy let himself lean a little harder on his witch, pushed them just that much more together.

He did not think he was imagining it when Evan’s arm tightened around him, pulling them closer in return.

[shego1142]

Okay so… I don’t really want to make this post, mostly because I feel like I’m always the one wearing tin foil hats on tumblr

But listen… I understand being upset and sad and afraid right now

But yall some of these posts are going beyond doomerism

Some of these posts

A lot of these posts, actually

Look quite a bit like demoralisation

So many of these posts I’ve seen look very much like purposeful targeted demoralisation

And I do hope everyone can understand very quickly how bad demoralising people right now is.

I do hope everyone can very quickly understand just how much people in power stand to gain from demoralising us.

I mean, you know, not that I’m saying that there’s a psyop taking place on the website that has routinely had multiple proven right wing/conservative/white supremacist psyops take place or anything

You know, that would be bonkers.

But all of these blogs out here saying that everything is hopeless and nothing will ever get better and we are all doomed and we should just tear each other apart and play the blame game?

That’s a little fishy.

Especially given that now more than ever is a time to stand with one another and hold on to hope and start organising together.

All of these blogs just blind faith accepting the election results as they are and not even considering any bad acting is at play? Just rolling over without any hint of a fight and implying that everyone else has to as well?

That’s a little fishy.

Especially given that:

The election results are not certified until December 25th and the House and Senate do have the power to object to the electoral college votes (especially if enough pressure is put on them to do so)

Especially given that it took a long time before we were sure who won in the last presidential race and it looked like Trump had won that first week back then too

Especially given that Kamala Harris’ Concession speech is not legally binding, and if it is found out between now and December 25th that she has won, then that will still be considered a legal win.

Especially given that many states, including battleground states, are already doing a recount and many more states are presumed to follow (So far Pennsylvania, Wisconsin, Nevada are recounting the ballots and Arizona and Texas are considering)

Especially given that there has already been proven minimal forms of tampering with the election process including multiple burnt absentee ballot boxes, bomb threats at polling places, as well as just plain human error whether malicious or benign.

So… you know… anyone posting on here saying that hope is dead and that we should all hate each other and everyone should just fuck off and stop caring about everything and stop supporting each other?

That seems a little bit fishy, doesn’t it?

That seems a little bit fucking sus, doesn’t it?!

Especially given that, even after all is said and done, even if he 100% did win and there’s no doubt that it’s legitimate

He’s still being sued for multiple charges and violations of conduct, he could still end up in jail

Especially since even if he doesn’t, even if he is sitting as acting president one January:

We have 2 and 1/2 months to mobilise

2 and 1/2 months to organise

Sure would be convenient for Trump and the 1% and the right wing pundits to make everyone feel like everything is hopeless and tragic and to pit leftist against democrats and what not

Sure would be useful to them if we were all just sad and hateful to each other these next coming months

Like I’ve seen many posts tying to do.

You can feel your feelings but if you start advocating for us to attack one another, for women to fight and hate leftist men who voted for Kamala, for black people to fight and hate other people of color, for leftists to hate democrats for not “going far enough” and for democrats to hate leftists for “going too far”

And all this bullshit in-fighting

I’m just going to assume you’re a bad actor and block you

This isn’t the time for the blame game, there’s no fucking one to blame other than Trump and most likely Elon Musk’s money.

Now isn’t the time to give a shit about why the election results are what they are.

Now is a time to stand together, united, to make our communities better, safer, sanctuaries.

Now is the time to talk to one another, to not strive for perfection but for safety.

Call your representatives

Get your passport

Print out as many copies of books (especially banned ones) as possible and fill your local little libraries with them, fill it with zines about community building too,

Check out these links:

Talk to the queers and the people of colour and the disabled people in your community

Book a meeting room in your local library

Talk to your librarians, talk to your teachers and health care workers

Talk to your local conservationists.

Don’t just talk to leftist spaces either, remember:

There is Power in Making Friends, Not Winning Battles - reach out to your community and find out what the real issues are, it’s very rarely actually just hate, it’s usually fear and poverty.

Do nice things for your community in the name of Queerness - in some places you can adopt a road and make it beautiful, so this with a group of queer friends and get a plaque that says “This Road Was Adopted by The Queer Community”

Get together with your minority friends and figure out how to open a soup kitchen (easiest than you think and registering as a non profit is actually a great way to stay safe for many reasons)

Have your community see you as a part of it, not a threat to it.

Speak at schools

Fundraiser for the library

If you’re included to do so, you could partner with different religious groups as well, especially since there are in fact religious groups that are inclusive and welcoming and supportive.

Make your community know that the “threat” of the “lgbtqia” is non-existent

Don’t make yourself less queer, less a person of colour, less disabled, etc, don’t fade into the background

Become a shining beacon of positivity and goodness that everyone in your community can see as an asset to the community.

Give back more than you e ever gotten.

I know how difficult that can be but trust me, it will be worth it. Work with the leaders in your community to lobby for more rights just in your town and then you can lobby for more rights in your state.

Just like how many states have now said that if Trump tries to do mass deportations they will stop him, work to create that solidarity within your own communities.

Do not sit quietly in fear doing and saying nothing but hopeless things for the next two months.

Do not let anyone convince you that it’s over.

Do not become another statistic.

[shaunashipman]

Hi. We don’t know each other, but I follow all your 911 posts, and so far you’re one of the only people I follow who is approaching this bullshit breakup storyline with the same level of anger as I am lol. Everyone else I’ve seen just seems heartbroken, which is their right (and I am too tbh), but I have not yet seen the same level of rage from anyone else that I feel like this shit deserves. Because what the fuck was that. You mean to tell me this show lovingly built up this relationship with a decent amount of care and decorum, only to ruin it in one scene with a level of cruelty I have not seen in tv in a LONG time? Probably since my House Md days when they had him drive a car through Cuddy’s house after they broke up. Talk about a slap in the face. Like not only was it bad writing, it was just plain mean. There was practically no warning. Felt like starting to fall off the edge of a cliff, seeing someone next to you, reaching your hand out to them and watching them reach back, only to have them snatch it away at the last minute. Jesus Christ.

Also. Those comments by Oliver, who had been trying to ‘do right’ by the storyline (or whatever the fuck he thought he was doing) and bisexuality as a whole, were like kicking someone when they’re already on the floor. Maybe he didn’t mean them badly or didn’t realize how they sounded. I’ve already seen people saying that he can’t be biphobic because of everything else he’s said, or that they themselves as a bisexual didn’t find them biphobic. Idgaf. As a bisexual I found them biphobic. We are not a hive mind. What is offensive to some is not offensive to all. And maybe he isn’t actually biphobic. The man is cryptic and inscrutable at best and I don’t know him, so I can’t say anything definitely. What I DO know is that while he has said nice things about bisexuals, he has not really said a single nice thing about his bisexual storyline. He has also not said a SINGLE WORD OF DEFENSE of his SCENE PARTNER IN A MAJOR STORYLINE who had been receiving DEATH THREATS (and apparently any other love interest either, but those were before I started paying attention to this show so I have no first-hand knowledge and can’t speak to them.) The lack of tact is one thing, but to also lack a spine?? Hoo boy. I can’t defend that. He has no problem talking back when he or his friends are in the line of fire. Not speaking up at all, for anyone, even to be like ‘hey. They’re just doing their job and acting in a storyline that was written for them. It’s just a tv show’ is pretty cowardly tbh. And he can take his bullshit apology-that-wasn’t that he has ALREADY DELETED and shove it up his ass. I no longer care.

I doubt they will, but I hope their ratings tank for this honestly. The general audience probably isn’t as hurt by this and there won’t be any actual repercussions for this nightmare of television writing, but GOD I vindictively hope that something happens to show them that actions have consequences. Either way I’m done.

Thanks for opening your inbox to venting. Hope you have a good weekend while also continuing to be as mad about this as I am lol ☺️

I don't know how to get sad without getting angry. that's just who I am. my sad button and my rage button are connected.

this was exceptionally shitty writing. they foreshadowed nothing. they built up nothing. this came out of nowhere, in the show itself and in the actual episode.

and oliver is on my shit list forever. I will never watch another show by tim minear and I will never watch oliver in anything ever again. he can fade into obscurity when this show hopefully dies after this season, go back to britain and work in a cafe where he can also let his co-workers be abused by customers and not say anything.

I hope he deletes his insta just like his twitter. actually I hope he throws a little fit first, I hope he has a tantrum about all of the righteous anger he's seeing, and acts like even more of a cunt before deleting. really let everyone know he's a self-centered twatwaffle who can't handle ppl not kissing his ass.

after today's work I have a whole week off to be pissed, and I'm not censoring myself. the only shit I'm not putting on my blog are the violent thoughts I'm having towards oliver and tim, because despite this I'm still a decent human being.

[fake-married-my-dead-fiance]

Okay, so Ep 1, glasses have lenses. You can see glare on them

Ep 2, kid version glasses also have lenses, the adult glasses still have lenses

Ep 3. no lenses

WHY? Why did they take the lenses out? It's so weird that they had them and then took them away. It looks wrong because there is no glare, which I guess is probably why they took the lenses out, but I'm sure you can do something about glare!

[uzukali]

Yknow, pvp civ is actually pretty damn good when evbo isn't making meta/fourth wall breaking jokes every minute and pissing me off

[taylor]

still reeling over the fact that almost 2 months ago the guy i was talking to (not dating, but definitely 'seeing') took another girl TO MY AND MY ROOMMATE'S APARTMENT to FUCK HER ON OUR AIR MATTRESS while i was ON VACATION THOUSANDS OF MILES AWAY

honestly. how do i get myself into these situations