#Wasted

[itsmeishmi]

Happy Kabru Dungeon Meshi!

[mudwerks]

Javier Bardem and Josh Brolin on the set of NO COUNTRY FOR OLD MEN (2007).

[wojakgallery]

Title/Name: Withered Wasted Doomer Collection Wojak Series:  Withered (Variant), Wasted (Variant), Doomer (Variant) Images by: Unknown Main Tag: Withered Wojak

[perroulisses]

In my Hector of troy era

[wetsocksinbed]

the true mass effect experience is spending ages making a personalised character just to run into a random npc that looks almost identical to them

[lego-dinosaur]

Maxley!!!!!!!!🤙 🛹 They have taken over my heart!!!! And cured my art block!!!!

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Max is extremely high and knocked out while eating bread.

Bradley got so drunk he fell asleep without realizing.

Safe to say they both wake up in pain from having a hang over or having an elbow to the chest.

[bunbunmaru-shimbun]

I CAN'T BELIEVE THAT KIERAN DIED TO PECHARUNT LIKE THAT.

[katyakurae]

The blush-war has started! Now is time for Alastor to get revenge!

(They are still not dating)

A second part to this post.

[lelianasbong]

Wyll: I used to believe the beauty of first love was unable to be surpassed. But Gale... you are so much more tolerable now that you've found your second.

Gale: I'll take that comment with the sincerity and goodwill I assume it was intended.

[macrolit]

And so this August is wasted.

- Virginia Woolf (A Writer's Diary, August 1921)

[parakavka]

柴犬茶々麻呂之介 on X: "GW2日目 #柴犬 https://t.co/chnZwQIySy" / X

[asoftepiloguemylove]

Ruta Sepetys "Emilia;" Salt to the Sea // Cynthia Cruz "The Glimmering Room;" Diagnosis // @herchainsaregone // Jamie Varon Does The Universe Fight For Souls To Be Together? // The Edge of Seventeen (2016) dir. Kelly Fremon Craig // Marya Hornbacher Wasted: A Memoir of Anorexia and Bulimia // Sue Zhao // Clementine von Radics // pinterest // Billie Eilish What Was I Made For?

[carlyraejepsans]

sudden flashback to my last replay of undertale when i opened sans' bedroom and as soon as the lights turned on my dad pointed at the screen and said "that's your room"

[neilsanders]

one too many yoo-hoos

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Wasted 12

Warnings: drug dealing/use, violence, noncon, and the usual. Proceed with caution.

Feedback is always welcome. Love you and thanks for the wonderful responses so far.♥♥♥

The other girl (snickerdoodle) in this one is from Black Light

Part of The Club AU

Steve walks you home. He’s such a gentleman. You’re not used to that and it still makes you a bit leery. Still, the night leaves you feeling lighter. It was fun and it should keep that dealer idiot off your back. Not to mention his end of the bargain; rent is square. 

You check your phone as you settle down on your lumpy mattress. Your happy Steve isn’t bold enough to want to come up. The apartment is barely worth what you pay for it. Small and shitty but it gets the job done. Only Snick has been up there and she’s not spiteful enough to judge anyone. You think she might like Steve. 

Well, they won’t ever meet. As much as you enjoyed the date, you can’t keep him strung along. You’ll let him down easy at least. He may have had a chance with that lumbering drug mule hanging around. 

You sigh. The first nice guy you’ve known and you won’t ever look at him without thinking of the nastiest piece of shit you’ve encountered. Besides, you’re you. You’re too rough around the edges for a guy like Steve. 

You can’t help but smile as you think of the picture he drew of you. He made you look much more beautiful than real life. Yep, it could never work. You would only disappoint him. 

You squint at your phone. You haven’t heard from Snick in days. You open up the chat and send yet another ‘hey, sup? Everything ok?’ Is she even seeing these? Maybe she came to her senses too. You’re just as mismatched. She’s young and bright-eyed and wonderful and you weathered and weary and bitter. 

You give it twenty minutes before you shut off the light. You’re exhausted. As you close your eyes, a flush heats your body. Without meaning to, you think of Steve and his soft lips. At first sight, you wouldn’t be so enamoured but something about him is special. You know you don’t deserve that. 

Sleep comes quickly. Dreams of the bus terminal and the restaurant and the flashing lights of the club intermingle in a distorted panoply of senseless scenes. You wake with the usual knot in your temple that can only be cured with coffee. 

You brew it in the dingy percolator as you scroll your phone. Snickerdoodle still hasn’t answered. You’re going to go check on her. If this is over, you would like to know. You’re not even mad, she deserves friends who aren’t trashy. 

And Steve deserves to know. You cringe at his good morning text. ‘I had a great time last night. Maybe we can do it again?’ 

How do you say it? You should do it in person but you’re not risking another run in with his buddy. You hate doing stuff like this; not turning men down, you’re a pro, no, you hate texting important shit. 

You tap the call button. Maybe it’s too early but you can’t type out what needs to be said. It’s not just for you, but for him. He would be hurt if he ever found out about Bucky. 

He picks up on the first ring, before you’re ready. Why didn’t you have your coffee first? You hold your forehead as he greets you with a boisterous, ‘good morning’. 

“Hey, Steve,” you counter evenly, “I just got your text. Last night was... really great.” 

“Yeah, it was,” he agrees in a smoky tone. 

“I just figured I’d do the courtesy of saying it to you, not texting it but uh, I don’t think this is going to work out. I have a lot going on right now and I’m not looking to date,” you push out the words as a stolid silence grows on the other end, “I’m sorry, Steve.” 

“B-but...” he croaks, “we had such a good time. We... we kissed.” 

“I know, and it was amazing, you’re a good kisser. The next girl is going to be so lucky but Steve...” you sit up and inhale, “I’m really not the type you wanna hang out with.” 

He sniffs and you hear him moving around, “it’s ‘cause of him.” 

“Who?” 

“Bucky. I’m not stupid. You know him somehow. You don’t like him.” 

You sigh, “yeah. I don’t and he’s your friend so I can’t.” 

He’s quiet again, “you two slept together. I don’t care” 

“Steve, it’s... not just that.” 

“It’s not fair,” he sneers. 

“Steve, I’m doing you a favour. Really. I sell bus tickets, I live in a fricking slum, I am saving us both a lot of disappointment,” you insist. “So, thank you for last night. That’s the best date I’ve ever had. Truly. I hope you find someone who can give you what you need.” 

“But you--” 

You hang up. It hurts more than you expect. Wow. 

You tap over to your chat with Snickerdoodle. You text again. Call. No answer. You’re starting to get really worried. 

You put the phone down and pour yourself a cup of coffee. It’s Sunday and you have the day off. You have to figure out what to do. If you stay here, you’ll only stew in your isolation. Maybe a walk. 

You finish your coffee as you pull out some clothes. A loose tank and denim shorts. Perfect for a day out in the city. Looks like it’s going to be sunny to. You finish your morning dose of caffeine and wash up. You’re not looking to draw attention, you don’t need any makeup. 

You grab your purse and head downstairs, stretching as you step out into the bright daylight. Maybe you’ll find your way through Snickerdoodle’s neighbourhood. It’s only three connections on the bus. You would know. 

Your name stops you short. You turn to the deep voice calling you. Steve marches down the sidewalk, scarily intense despite his stature. 

“Hey, can we talk?” He strides up and stops, only a step away.  

You’re too stunned to answer. You really didn’t expect this. How did he even get here so fast? 

“We talked, Steve,” you breathe at last. 

“You talked. I didn’t,” his blue eyes bore into you, “let me buy you a coffee. Let me make my case.” 

“Steve, please, let’s not make this messy--” 

“You led me on,” he accuses. 

“We had a nice date, alright?” You use your customer service tone to soothe him, “didn’t we? So let’s leave it at that.” 

“Why won’t you listen?” He hisses. 

“Steve, you’re not listening,” you shoot back. “You can do better than me..” 

“No, I can’t,” he snips, “and I don’t want to.” 

You push your lips together and nod, “I’m saying no. Alright? No.” You shake your head a look away, deflated, “I didn’t think you were like him, I thought you knew what that meant.” 

He says your name and you sidestep him, “wait,” he tries to grab your arm and you shrug him off, “I’m sorry, just give me another chance.” 

“Leave me alone,” your voice breaks crisply, “I don’t want to make a scene.” 

To your relief, he does. You hear his soles slap the pavement as he stops short and you strut off without looking back. You’re disappointed. Even if you never meant to see him again, you had some hope he wasn’t like other men.

Nope, they’re all the same. They never listen.