#and 2. he kept telling me to eat more which like i have t even been losing that much weight

[wild-moss-art]

Mmmm just gonna rot 2day

[finelinevogue]

hi!! can I get an azriel fic where he and the reader had a fight before a battle or mission and then she is presumed dead so he spends his days spiraling with guilt and he misses her a lot and that stuff. And then when she makes it back he finally confesses his feelings to her and happy ending :) bonus if she's rhys' sister but not necessary. thank u so much and happy new year!!

please come back

thank you so much for your request - i hope this lived up to expectations since i’ve wanted to write a fic like this for ages 💫

word count - 1.6k

“Where is she?”

“Az.. We… We don’t—.”

“I said where is she?” Azriel bellowed, readying Truthteller for anything.

Rhys rubbed a bloody hand over his chin whilst Cassian hung his head low.

Rhys looked at Azriel with those deep violet eyes, conveying a whole conversation to him without having to use any words.

Truthteller dropped to the ground.

Azriel followed.

His knees let out an earth shattering crack as he crumbled onto the floor. His whole body went slack, his entire demeanour changing from how he had been seconds before.

How evil a few seconds could turn life into.

“No.” He whispered to the wind.

“Az…”

“No!” He screamed, spit and blood flying from his lips - blood from the battle which he didn’t feel like they’d won anymore.

Why had any of that been worth it?

Days of war and fighting, and for what?

The peace and safety of the Night Court wad restored once more, but was life worth truly living without his person living beside him? He couldn’t even comprehend the thought of figuring that question out.

He could feel the bond slipping away. That once golden-feel thread, rusting and greying away.

Azriel tried pulling on the bond with all he had, whispering pleads under his breath. “Please, please.” He pulled and pulled, but the void when nothing pulled back was too empty to deal with.

“I’m sorry, brother.” Rhys said, kneeling down in front of Azriel. “I’m sorry.”

“Tell me it isn’t true.” Azriel looked from his blood-caked hands and into his brother’s eyes once more.

Azriel’s own eyes pooled with tears. He didn’t think he had any energy left to think, let alone cry and yet the tears would not stop falling.

His body rocked as his cries took over him.

He felt like the world was ending and he was ending with it.

He pulled that bond again, wishing for anything to give him a sign that you were at least trying to pull back - to give Azriel reason to believe you were still there - but all he felt was nothing.

🦇 • 🤎• 🦇

The sun was setting when Azriel woke up.

He sat up in your once shared bed, holding himself up by his hands behind him.

He looked from the setting sun to your side of the bed. He’d set up your pillows so it looked like your body was underneath the sheets. They had dents in from where he’d been holding them at night - trying to replicate the feeling of you.

He can’t believe you were gone.

Azriel took one of his hands and placed it over his heart, tugging at that thread - he wasn’t giving it up so easily. He could feel it still there, only it felt distant. Distant didn’t mean forever gone, though.

And so he pulled.

Every morning - or evening - he rose, he pulled.

🦇 • 🤎• 🦇

“You look…” Cassian started as Azriel entered the kitchen.

Cassian was sat at the table eating some bread and sauce - forever snacking.

“Handsome?” Azriel asked in a teasing voice

“You don’t want me to answer that honestly.” Cassian shook his head, tearing off a bit of bread and throwing it across the table for Azriel to catch.

Azriel caught it with one hand and immediately took a bite from it. It didn’t take an intelligent someone to know that Cassian was just trying to make sure Azriel remembered to eat, seeing as he kept ‘forgetting to’ recently.

Azriel hadn’t attended family dinner in 2 days - the battle having ended 3 days ago.

Cassian was impressed that Azriel was even out of bed - proud, even.

“Answer me this, then.” Azriel counter offered, “If… If you thought there was still a small chance the bond was still alive between you and Nesta, even though she’d… gone, would you pull it? Persue it?”

“Without hesitation.” Cassian nodded.

Azriel nodded in agreement.

“Why—.”

“It’s nothing.” Azriel shook his head, leaving the bread on the table and disappearing from the room once more.

“What a weird guy.” Cassian spoke to no-one as he dipped his bread into a spicy-red sauce.

🦇 • 🤎• 🦇

You looked peaceful.

Madja had dressed you in lilac robes - traditional to your homeland for your upcoming memorial service.

You were lying to rest in a room away from the main part of the House of Wind. You looked so beautiful. Your Fae skin had not yet withered or cracked.

“Hello, my love.” Azriel said, brushing the tips of his fingers over your cheek.

Azriel had been coming down to speak to you every spare moment he had, not wanting to miss a single second he had to watch over you.

“Are you ready to come back yet?”

He tugged that bond and he tugged it hard.

🦇 • 🤎• 🦇

It was the third morning.

Azriel was at his desk, writing away as he often did in the mornings. His diary was the one constant - other than you - that he had always known he could turn to each day.

Now with you gone, he–

Mor burst through the door, panting like she’d run up the steps to reach the House of Wind.

Azriel hadn’t noticed he’d dropped his pen and spilt the ink everywhere. Mor had startled him, but his shadows had calmed him.

Mor caught her breath long enough for her to speak two words.

“She’s awake.”

And that’s when he noticed he could feel it; the bond.

🦇 • 🤎• 🦇

Azriel was running faster than he had ever before.

He sprinted down the halls, apologising when he knocked over a vase but continuing nevertheless.

When he approached the end of the hallway that led to that door, he spotted Rhys speaking to Madja just in front of it.

Azriel slowed down his pace until he was actually apprehensively approaching the door.

He looked at Madja first, needing medical reassurance more than anything. If this was real, how did the Mother pull this off? He would owe his soul for this.

Madja gave Azriel a knowing look that made Azriel want to crumple to the floor and kiss at the feet of the Gods.

Madja, Rhys and Mor stood beside the door as Azriel didn't waste a single moment more waiting behind the doors. He pushed them open widely and for the first time in what felt like a lifetime, he saw your eyes open.

You smiled at him from across the room and he was done for.

Azriel's shadows went into a frenzy to reach you and you laughed as they hugged and tickled you, moulding around your body in a protective cocoon.

"I came back." You said.

Azriel nodded, not understand how this was even possible. How was this possible? Could Madja even explain this phenomenon?

"You.. You were..."

"I know." You nodded sadly. "I can't imagine how that must have been for you."

"I pulled on the bond every other moment." Azriel walked towards you slowly, careful to tread carefully in case he blurred the dream that he was sure he was dreaming.

"I know." You rested your hand on your chest. "I could feel it."

"You could?"

"I'm certain that you brought me back, Az."

His shadows met back with him but only because he was so close to you now. Close enough to be able to reach out and make sure you were real.

He brought a scarred hand up to your cheek, hesitating in case this was some cruel trick. His hand hovered where he wanted to cup your cheek, like he was internally stuck with choosing what to do next.

"It's okay. I'm here."

You moved for him and pressed your skin into his.

Azriel gasped as he felt how real you were beneath his own body. He quickly brought his other hand to cup your other cheek and greedily bring your lips close to his so he could seal this moment with a kiss.

The kiss poured all of his love for you back into him.

He felt that bond grow tighter in his chest, begging to burst out and fill the room with the endless happy that you brought him.

"You're here." He said between kisses, not letting you go for a moment.

"I am."

Azriel's kisses were hungry and desperate. It was almost like he refused to believe this was real and that he would lose you the moment he stopped. As much as you loved him and his kisses, you did need to breathe and so you reluctantly pulled away.

"No..." Azriel whined, desperate to pull you back.

You cupped his cheeks this time, grounding him to you. "Hey, sweetheart, I am here. I am right here. We have all the time in the world. I'm okay."

"We're okay." And he sealed the fact with another kiss.

🦇 • 🤎• 🦇

"Az, get off!"

You laughed as you tried to push him off of your side of the bed.

"You're too big." You grunted as you tried to move him off you, but he was too big of a lump of muscle to move. Of course you were only struggling to suffer - you actually quite enjoyed the feeling of him on you. If it comforted him then it comforted you.

"I am, aren't I." He said cheekily, like a teen Illyrian.

"Ugh." You rolled your eyes, but were glad to see he'd gotten his spark back. "I give up."

You stayed laid down, Azriel's body completely wrapped over yours and his legs intertwined with yours. His arms were wrapped so snug around you that you couldn't move even if you did want to. Seemed like he was attached to you from here until forever.

"Good." He said. "Now, let's sleep."

He gave one last tug on the bond before you tried to go to sleep and he was only comfortable enough to go to sleep when he felt you tug back.

[thewhumpcaretaker]

Hiyyaa!! 💖💖

I just know that when Santino is in some kind of pain, and he doesn't want to show it, he's extremely irritated and moody.

Like, idk, he got shot or hurt somewhere, for example like, maybe his knee, or ribs or anything really. And yeah he apparently healed but he actually didn't. Maybe something went wrong and the wound or whatever didn't heal fully but he is not saying that to anyone. Especially not to John. And he's like snapping at John for the littlest things and is just always moody. John doesn't know why, until he connects some dots in his head and asks him if he's in some kind of pain. And... Santino finally after some time admits that yeah he's in pain 😞

What do you think about that? :)

Hellooooo! 💝💝

This is such a fun trope - there's always a dramatic reveal when a character tries to hide an injury. And Santino would be such a bad liar when it comes to this - whining the whole time without saying why. Poor Santi, he should just tell John what's wrong! Well, when he finds out, John will take care of him. 🖤

(John is his bodyguard in this, btw.)

●・○・●・○・●

The shootout was relatively minor, all things considered. When Santino said he wasn't hit by any bullets, that was the truth. When he said he wasn't in pain, that was almost the truth too - in the shock right after the fight, he didn't feel much. There was, at least, nothing significant enough to mention when they were in the midst of an escape.

But being body-slammed to the ground has its effects. By the time they got home that night, around 2 AM, there was a deep ache on the left side of his ribcage. If he mentioned it, John would make a fuss for sure. He'd probably even make him stay home the next day to rest. So Santino played off his discomfort as the result of being exhausted and rattled by everything that had happened (which was true). He just wanted to go to bed, he said, and of course John agreed that was best. They fell asleep hand-in-hand without talking much.

But the pain kept waking him up when he moved, so he was tired the next day, on top of being wounded. He snapped at John when he was coming out of the bathroom. "You took forever in there. Do you want to make us late? Come on, help me with my tie." He didn't mention that this was because it hurt to lift his arms too much.

He was supposed to give a tour to an important business contact that day. A day of showing him around the best sites in the New York underworld. "Wine-and-dine him," Gianna had said. He groaned just thinking about it.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing. Just a long day ahead. So let's get going."

Thankfully, John let it slide. What he didn't let slide was Santino's attempt to skip breakfast. "You have to at least bring something to eat in the car." He grabbed a bagel on the way out to go with Santino's coffee. Santino grumbled that he wasn't hungry, but to no avail. The pain was killing his appetite.

However, by the time they were walking through New York listening to this rich asshole go on and on about the way crime operated in London, Santino was glad he had eaten. He was really worn out. Every step hurt his side, but he had to keep a straight face, focus on what his guest was saying, and respond politely to everything. It was making him unbelievably frustrated.

They went to an armory, the Continental, the museum, a weapons dealer… While the man had his back turned to admire a view from the roof of a skyscraper, John caught Santino frowning miserably off into the distance. He nudged him and Santino winced before he could stop himself. Damn it. John noticed that immediately. A look of concerned realization stole over his face. He reached out again, more slowly this time, and poked at Santino's side deliberately. Santino smacked his hand away.

Their guest looked back over his shoulder. "Did you say something?"

"No! Not a thing." Santino smiled with teeth, and glared at John when the man looked away again.

"We're going to drive to the next location," John said. "It's too far to walk."

Santino opened his mouth but he couldn't contradict him without making it look like he didn't have control over his bodyguard. Best not to bicker in front of company. And honestly, he was relieved.

John didn't just call for one car, he called for two so they could talk by themselves. As soon as they were alone, he was fussing over Santino. "Pull up your shirt, let me see what happened."

Santino huffed. "It's fine, I just…remember when I got flipped onto the ground last night?"

John inhaled sharply. "Shit, look at these bruises. You could have broken ribs, love. Why didn't you tell me?"

"Do I really have bruises?" He did, all over his side. He felt a little bit faint just looking at it. John saw the color drain out of his face and put a hand on his shoulder, protective as ever.

"Here, I told them to bring painkillers." The driver handed over a bottle of pills. "But we need to take you to a doctor right away."

"I can't leave in the middle of this tour!"

John shook his head, but he knew that was true. "Well…let's not walk anymore today. And let's cut it as short as we can. I'll text the doc to be ready as soon as we get home. Until then, I'm not taking my eyes off you." That dark, steady gaze said he meant it.

As much as he had dreading being doted on, Santino was almost blushing with the thrill of seeing John so protective now. "…Thank you. I'm sorry I was so out of sorts all morning."

"It's okay. I just wish I'd known you were hurting."

Always so understanding. Santino leaned forward to kiss him but winced again, so John pushed him back against the seat and came to him instead. For a moment, Santino was lost in that kiss and all the pain disappeared.

[bakudekuficlibrary]

Hii! Do you have any fics with either Izuku or Katsuki as dancers?

BakuDeku: Dancer AU 1 Series. 15 Works. 1 Illustrative.

Dance with Me by astralchaos ( T | 30,159 | 10/10 )

Mina pulled up a video of a young man, seemingly teen, dancing to a popular new hit, and Izuku felt his heart drop to his stomach. His skin prickled and felt clammy as he started sweating nervously, not daring to move or make a noise. His eyes were glued to the screen but he didn’t see anything – his brain was too busy going into overdrive and freaking out.

Because Mina was showing him a video of himself. The one he uploaded last night.

How on Earth did she find this? He had barely a few thousand views, he wasn’t popular, and it’s not like he was even any good, especially compared to her or Kacchan–

“That move was sexy as hell,” Kacchan said, and that was when Izuku realized that his childhood friend – his longtime crush – also leaned in to watch the video Mina was showing him.

Momentum by meteormind ( T | 59,588 | 3/3 )

"You be the girl," Katsuki tells him.

"But... we're both boys," the dummy says like Katsuki doesn't have eyes.

"So? There has to be a girl. And I'm taller." Katsuki skates his hand over the shrubby mess of Twig's hair to his own cheek. "See?"

"Why do you get to be the boy just because you're tall? There are tall girls too." Twig looks around the room at all the poofy-skirted girls. "I don't want to be the girl."

"Someone has to be the girl, and you already look like one so it might as well be you, ya girly twig-boy."

Twig gasps. "I am not a girly twig-boy!"

[Hiatus] I Dance For You by claramemories, fericide ( E | BKDK | 257,647+ | 24/35 )

Izuku Midoriya danced all his life. Born without natural talent, he devoted all his time to being the best and equal to his lost childhood friend-current rival Bakugou Katsuki.

Or ex-rival, more like.

After Izuku heard the news that cancer was eating him alive, he stopped dancing. He kept quiet, pulling up a fake smile, an act he thought went unnoticed by everyone around him.

But fuck, he was wrong, wasn't he?

In which Izuku Midoriya is running out of time, and Katsuki Bakugou is trying to revive what he has broken.

Dancing to a Love Song by EyndsOfTheEarth ( T | 13,349 | 1/1 )

Katsuki can’t stand Izuku, it’s just a fact. Yet somehow they still get paired together for an upcoming dance competition.

Oh my god- and they were rival dancers.

Fancy Footwork by GreenEyesSublime ( E | BKDK | 13,549 | 2/2 )

Izuku is a ballet dancer preparing for the biggest audition of his life - a spot with the acclaimed UA Ballet Company in Tokyo! After a nasty run-in a few months ago, his mother insists on his school hiring a bodyguard to keep him safe during the trip. Too bad the man they hired is hunky ex-boxer Katsuki, who has a fiery gaze and the bullish personality to match.

Will Katsuki prove to be more of a distraction or a motivation?

-- Or, dancer!Izuku is practicing for a big audition and bodyguard!Katsuki gets inspired to show off some of his own moves - both on and off the dance floor.

[Series] Steps of Us by schrijverr ( G&T | 21,642 | 2 Works )

Bakugo and Midoriya used to dance competitive ballroom together. When nightmares keep them awake they start dancing again and finding their friendship back as well. Until a dance lesson brings it to light.

Penché by QueerPinoy ( E | BKDK | 1,133 | 1/1 )

Midoriya is supposed to look delicate. The long arch of his back leading into slim legs and pointed toes is supposed to be elegant.

To Bakugou, it’s sexy.

From the darkness of the audience seats, he feels no shame staring blatantly as his ass, the bulge of his dick in his leotard, watches how high his leg can go and oh god, he wants him. He wants to devour the unblemished curve of his neck, break down everything that is graceful about him. He wants to fuck the angel right out of him.

Balançoire by SkantySkylar (SkarySkylar) ( E | DKBK | 27,951 | 3/3 )

“They will all love you,” He closes his eyes, listens to the applause. The roses at his feet smell like copper. Adoration glistens on each petal. “They will all love you.” . . . Katsuki is a ballerina. Izuku is a Classics Major. They fall in love. Somebody dies.

[Graphic Depictions of Violence]

tendrement by bazookangel ( T | 1,283 | 1/1 )

Being the first nationally recognized male pointe dancer in Japan, Izuku tends to push his wrecked body to the brink. Luckily, his partner Katsuki is always there to catch him.

‧₊˚˗ˏˋ 🩰 ˎˊ˗˚₊‧

tendrement: (adv.) tenderly, fondly, softly

To Dance With Moonlight by StevieBanks ( T | 8,675 | 1/1 )

Izuku steadies his breathing and wills his roaring heart to calm down. The blonde holds one of the red earbuds in his hand. His head tilts with a question.

"You dance?"

A silly question, but a question nonetheless.

"Nope," Izuku shrugs. "I just know the entire routine of 'Giselle, ou Les Wilis' for shits and giggles."

The blonde snorts a sound of amusement. "You know any other routines for shits and giggles then?"

"If you're here for the Summer Solstice Recital, then I know every act, scene, routine sequence, and musical number."

"Huh." The blonde gets to his feet and steps closer. He tosses the left earbud in Izuku's direction. "Then dance, nerd."

Izuku catches it with a quick hand. A smile on his face and a quip on his tongue. "You gonna join me, pretty boy?"

Only Wanna Dance With You by FatalFanfiction ( E | BKDK | 3,652 | 1/1 )

“AND THE WINNER IS…”

Katsuki knew this was his��� it had to be. The tension in the air was suffocating and if he had a less level head under stress, he probably would have fainted from forgetting to breathe. He was standing on stage, an audience in front of him and his dance crew behind him. This was the first year in his ten years of competitions that Katsuki competed in a mixed tournament— Ballet, Ballroom, Tap, Hip Hop, and Jazz all competed against one another. 

Katsuki never fuckin’ lost, okay? 

(Hint: He loses.)

[AUgust Writing Challenge: Dance]

Sing a Song of Symphony by Justanotherorange ( T | 3,796 | 1/1 )

Oneshot for the UADA AU created by Kinnme on tumblr. Inspired by the song "Symphony" by Clean Bandit.

Katsuki figures out his feelings towards a certain green-headed boy with an annoyingly admirable and heart-pounding taste in musical inspiration.

[Abandoned] You Keep Me on My Toes by Fawn_Eyed_Girl ( E | BKDK | 30,474+ | 7/10 )

After seven years in the States, contemporary dancer Bakugō Katsuki has returned home to audition for the prestigious Endeavor Dance Company, with hopes of scoring a principal position. He’s trained long and hard for this moment, giving up a chance to audition for American companies, to stand in the spotlight on a home stage.

But the day of his audition, he’s astonished to see a shock of green curls, and a face he left behind years ago: Midoriya Izuku, his former best friend and dance rival, who Katsuki had once said didn’t have what it took to be a dancer.

How did Izuku get there? Why is he, all of a sudden, so ridiculously good? And, most importantly… Why is he now so hot?

Katsuki doesn’t know, but he’s determined not to allow lingering feelings in his heart to overcome his ambition…if he can help it.

With incredible art by MeowMonster!

[Abandoned] Moonlight Sonata by Silver_Weasel ( M | 16,164 | 3/5 )

As Izuku follows the smooth rhythm of Katsuki's fingers on the ivory keys, his moves slow down with the music. He finishes with a raising of his arm, reaching for the ceiling and his fingers are loose, but not without purpose. Nothing was ever done without purpose as he danced over Katsuki's music like it was Mozart's most inspiring piece.

In which Katsuki, a young ambitious pianist, is forced to serve as an accompanist for ballet rehearsals. That's how he meets Izuku, a promising dancer who'll be quick to change everything he thought he knew about music.

Pas de Deux by orabid_rabbito ( T | 2,830 | 1/1 )

Bakugou Katsuki is devastated by his growth spurt.

It came before the other kids. His legs are too dangly, his arms are too long, his chest is bigger now. All of those new changes in his body are messing with his sense of balance and his weight distribution.

A cardinal sin for a ballet dancer.

Stubbornly telling himself he would not let this come into his way, Katsuki did his very best at all rehearsals, coming early for his dancing class, and leaving after everybody else, trying to minimize the effects of his precocious puberty of affecting his dance.

Still, he wants to cry when he sees shitty Deku name selected for the Pas de Deux in the next performance.

Katsuki trains more than anyone else, and now, he does it to the point of exhaustion, the knot at the bottom of his stomach pushing him forward. He won't lose again. He can't.

What the dancer doesn't know, is that Izuku watches him. Every day, every time he stays behind to work on his stance, the greenette stays behind as well, transfixed by the raw talent and power unfolding in front of him.

Come Dance With Me by oolongmilktea ( E | BKDK | 4,966 | 1/1 )

When discussing who's going to be in which team for their second U.A. school festival performance, Katsuki claimed that he's going to be on the dance team this time around. With no one believing him, the class taunts him to show off his dance skills. Not backing down from a challenge, Katsuki drags Izuku into the demonstration, reminding him of their history as competitive Latin dancers back in their younger years.

Things get heated.

*October Prompt Fic

*P.S. I suck at summaries.

UA Dance Academy by Kinnme ( WIP | Street Dance AU )

Story in illustrations that takes place in an alternative universe where the characters have no quirks, they're just normal human beings who dance. The main Academy is a school of arts and dance. WARNING, story contains KatsuDeku and TodoDeku, male/male, also angst, stay away if you don't like the subject please.

Other Links: Character Designs

To see the original 2018 post, click here.

[onlyancunin]

Hey guys,

a little update on my situation with my ex if anyone's interested. Gonna be a doozy, but there's just so much in my head right now and I know there might be some worrying about me.

Or maybe I'll just spark a bit of confidence in someone else ✨

You know how you get a pizza, all excited, try it, and it's not good? Like it was fine at first and hey, you were hungry, but with each bite it progressively got worse. Do you stopped after a piece or two or three. And just tossed out the rest.

But it was enough to give you a severe food poisoning. So you spend a good portion of the next however many days throwing up and not being able to meet with friends and family because you're too sick. And you're so frustrated, because the pizza wasn't even that good, and you didn't eat that much, but you're still unable to function??

So yeah, I got severe emotional poisoning from relationship with my ex. But after we broke up I got nowhere to go, and he agreed to continue living together, so that I can move out once I secure money for deposit and whatnot.

Never go for that.

Last Sunday ex threw another jealous fit at me, making me unable to work for another 2 days - and then he was off to holiday with his friends (which couldn't come quick enough, I literally counted hours for him to leave). That left me and severely poisoned, but also gave me opportunity to collect myself and regroup a little away from him.

3 days later I had a new place and just today I got the keys.

Coincidentally my post about him about two months ago sparked a friendship with someone from here (Tumblr is a country okay). She kept me together through all that and let me tell you this was fucking tantalizing. It's surreal how things can change in such a short time. Having her as a friend truly opened my eyes as to what a relationship is NOT, seeing how someone who was just a stranger a few months ago, today cared for me more than he ever did.

I gave myself up for scraps of attention and believed when everyone around was telling me he is "one of the good guys". He came from nice, big family, with stable finances, nice group of friends. A noble job, a paramedic, which always impressed my sorry graphic design/IT developer ass. Like the only thing I'm saving is oceans from existing with the amount of shit that's being produced partly by my designs. So it felt good to be supportive of the good person and finally have a family, since I do not have one of my own.

Which is probably why I took the break-up so badly, even if I initiated it. I felt incredibly guilty for letting everyone around down. Everyone loved him. And I mean everyone. The only thing I ever aired I discussed with people outside of our common friends, and those were the people who told me something doesn't add up. And as I started following my gut feeling (and had a speedrun to breakup by hurting my knee and needing help where my ex completely dropped the ball), he started acting up. Suddenly setting boundaries with his family was me being jealous over him even having one, I just couldn't understand apparently how I'll never be the most important to him. Me asking him to be here for me when I'm having a hard time was met with "You're having a hard time EVERY DAY!".

Essentially I just ruined his family visits, his vacation with my knee injury, his days with my bad moods etc. But he ruined one too many Sundays for me.

So here I am, packing my sh#t and planning what goes where because I know I will be thoroughly exhausted after all things are moved, so I need to plan ahead.

And I still throw up emotionally, sobbing every 10 minutes, I don't even know why anymore. I just cry until I stop and then I continue prepping for move.

It's just a bad pizza.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

Are I and two more people the assholes for cutting a friend with post-partum depression off our lives? Warning, this one's LONG.

For starters, there's five people involved on this. There's me (22NB), my best friend (23M) whom we will call A, a friend (24F) called V for this, yet another friend called C (23M) and finally, the ex-friend (23F) who A, V and me cut off our lives. She will be called T. A, V, T and I were all friends since 2018, and C, who appeared in 2022, was friends with everyone minus T, since she never got along with him. T and V were specially close. I hope this doesn't ends up too confusing, and keep in mind english is my second language.

T got pregnant from her ex (he was already her ex when she got pregnant, as they kept having sex) somewhere in 2021, she doesn't knows when because she noticed when she was on her 3 month already (missing her period was to be expected since she had a surgery on her ovaries). To make it short, her ex wanted her to abort but she didn't wanted to, and even if she wanted, she couldn't, because she surpassed the amount of weeks where she could have a legal abortion on a safe environment. This led to several fights between the two and their families and eventually he completely disappeared from her life. She was devastated, but she wanted the baby and was excited to be a mother despite everything, so we were all happy for her and we were on her side. Things were relatively fine during the pregnancy, at least it seemed so.

I was the first person who was friends with C, around February I think. I introduced him to A, V and T on my birthday (September), and that night only C, A, V and I went to a nightclub (it wasn't planned), as T was near her due date. Turns out, while we were on the nightclub, she gave birth. We (minus C) were overjoyed, because we waited SO long and finally the baby was here. However, this is when the problems started (although we later learned T used V to vent about the abandonment of her ex during the whole pregnancy, and never listened to V when she wanted to vent on her own or even tell her about her day).

Besides for some reason T started to do EXTREMELY classist comments (such as refusing to eat chocotorta, a cake made of chocolate cookies and dulce de leche, because it was "the dessert of the poor", or saying we were acting/dressing "like poor people" sometimes. Sincerely, she is middle class as much, yet pretended she was at least upper-middle class with her attitudes) and showing a very fatphobic attitude towards herself and other people, she started to be straight up cruel towards V because she was jealous of her "carefree life" (V has to deal with an abusive mother on her home and trauma from an abusive ex, btw), and there were three events that strained the relationship even more.

1- When she threw a tantrum on the group chat because A, V, and me went to a concert with C and started to say she had COVID (we saw each other the day before) and we probably spread it everywhere, and that we were all abandoning her and never cared about her and her baby actually while sobbing on a voice message, despite we tried to calm her down and assure her we loved her and her son she kept doing a scene until A told her to stop.

2- On A's birthday, she was acting like an annoying rich girl despite saying she didn't had money to buy A a present. Literally investigated C's phone (Samsung A20) without asking him and then just said "My mom has an A51". She also kept constantly misgendering C (he's trans), which is even more infuriating because A is also trans and she genders him correctly. She has no excuse, we presented him as a guy, and we used he/him while she used she/her

3- When we went to a 80's themed party and during the previous stage before going she was physically aggressive with V (literally threw objects at her including A RECENTLY LIT LIGHTER WHO WAS STILL HOT), and during the party acted as if A was her boyfriend (he's gay), alongside wanting to basically pit me and A against V the whole night.

There's also the fact that she seemed uninterested and even a bit cruel towards her son, such as giving him really hot milk (he was bottle-feed) and not caring about his reactions, or even "accidentally" DROPPING HIM OFF THE BED HE WAS IN. One day we decided we had enough, and I wrote a really long message on our group chat expressing our feelings.

The thing where we may be the assholes is that she replied some days later, also a rather long message, and we ignored her for a month without even opening the chat. We only read it when she left the chat, in which she explained she was diagnosed with post-partum depression and that she fell again on her eating disorder due to gaining weight during the pregnancy, alongside having financial problems on her family, being full of debts. She was sorry, and wanted to "fix things". But it's kind of too late now to speak to her. So, were we the assholes? She WAS an asshole but maybe we should have forgive her due to her circumstances. Thanks to whoever read this long post.

What are these acronyms?

[bibiddibobiddi-boo]

Hello!! I have a song fic request to the song Look At Me by Celtic Thunder for Vil and Epel! I honestly think that song would fit the two hilariously well 🤣

Well hello Anon! Thank you for the request, the song is absolutely delightful!

Look at me!

Summary: Epel comes back from Spelldrive practice thinking he could manage the ladies' attention now. Vil brings him back to reality.

Pairing: None

Cw: Just a mother-son argument

for those who want to listen to the song at the same time

Vil sighed as Epel came back from Spelldrive practice. His clothes were dirtier than the garden, his face full of dust, and he seemed to be bleeding from his nose. Must have been another broom crash.

Epel only admired his physique in the mirror and smirked.

"Hell yeah, this will get the ladies!"

Vil raised an eyebrow then cackled at the pretentious affirmation. This was also his cue to a lecture. But Epel wouldn't have it this time.

He turned to Vil and opened his arms.

"Look at me!" He started. "I'm cool and I'm charming!" Turning back to the mirror, he took his goggles off from his head and held it in his hand. "Debonair and disarming. That's me to a T!" He continued as he passed his hand in his hair.

Vil scoffed and his eyes widened. 'Debonair'!? Where had Epel learnt that!? But said boy was back to the mirror.

"Take a look at me!" He groaned upon seeing Vil's face through the glass. "Don't need no fandangos, I got all of the angles." Epel frowned, turning back once more to Vil, "Just look at me!"

Vil shook his head. Pretentious potato. Epel had qualities, certainly, but with that attitude and that physique? He wasn't sure if ladies would really come.

With another sigh, Vil left the common room to go to his bedroom. But of course, Epel wasn't done. And Vil knew it.

"Look at me!" Epel demand.

"Look at you." Vil opened the door to his room, to which Epel followed.

"I ain't no beginner," The arguments kept coming, "I'm a natural winner, that's me to a T!"

"Take a look at me!"

"Take a look at you."

Vil sat by his dresser and crossed his arms as Epel kept talking.

"I can sing acapella, I'm a hell of a fella!" Came with a smirk followed by an annoyed frown. "Just look at me!"

Vil laughed and stood up then leaned down, easily towering his freshman.

"You know nothin' at all about ladies," The dormleader stated, "Let me give you a piece of advice. You're headin' for nothin' but trouble, you'll be paying a hell of a price."

The fairest queen pulled his poisoned apple to his mirror. In front of the glass again, Vil placed himself behind Epel and held his chin, moving the younger's head to show him better his sullied face.

" 'Cos you think you're a bit of a killer, that the ladies will fall at your feet?" Vil cackled. "Hah!" Then his face morphed back to a scowl. "They could eat you for supper, and spit you right out on the street!"

"Look at me!"

"Look at you."

Epel shouldered Vil off then opened another victorious smirk.

"Your resistance will crumble, get ready to rumble!" He balled his fist and punched the air. "1, 2, 3!"

Vil caught the third punch and yanked Epel close again.

"Take a look at you!"

"Look at me!"

Epel wasn't done. Oh no, he was far from done.

"I'm as fit as a fiddle, so let's hide it a little. Just you and me."

But Vil wasn't done too.

"It's a very bad time to be cocky, when you're out there on the pull." He waved his hand to the window then pointed a finger to Epel. "Hold your horse like a jockey. And don't rush in like a bull."

The poisoned apple crossed his arms and almost sat on the bed. Vil let out a scream before Epel could even attempt putting his butt down on the pristine bed.

"You have to be patient with ladies, and tell them what they want to hear." Vil listed as he raised his fingers. Yes, maybe Epel could reeeally use some advice. "Keep a steady aim on your target. Don't shoot like a young pistoleer!" Followed by a sigh, Vil sat Epel on his chair by the dresser and started brushing his hair.

“Take a good look at yourself, for goodness’ sake! All the ladies are laughin'! Ask yourself why.” He chastised and kept the steady brushing. “Take a good look at yourself, and you will see-” The fairest queen paused to find his words. “-a natural loser, take it from me.” He nodded as Epel gasped and fully turned his head to face Vil, but the queen only made him turn his head back to face the mirror.

“Look at me! I ain't no beginner, a natural winner! That's me to a T!” Epel was back on his first arguments. “Take a look at me! I can sing acappella, I'm a hell of a fella! Just look at me!”

Well, Vil could repeat himself to this potato.

“Take a good look at yourself, for goodness’ sake! All the ladies are laughin'! Ask yourself why.”

“Look at me! I ain't no beginner, a natural winner! That's me to a T!”

“Take a good look at yourself, and you will see! A natural loser, take it from me.”

“Take a look at me! I can sing acappella, I'm a hell of a fella! Just look at me!”

Epel glared at Vil through the glass. Vil would have to repeat himself. Again.

“You’re a natural loser-“

“I’m a natural winner-“

……..

“Take it from me!” Vil finished with one last brush in Epel’s hair.

“Look at me!” Epel banged his hand on the dresser and yelped at the pull he felt in his hair.

“Shower now potato, no ifs, buts or ands.” Vil said with this motherly vibe he transmitted. There was no way to refuse him this time.

Here you go, dear anon. Hope you like it~

[nerdypipsqueak]

Two weeks ago I went on a date. My first date in 7 years. And this date set the bar so high that now I'm probably fucked.

I'd gotten myself an account on a dating app and was just... swiping, without much hope for anything. A lot of the more... helpful features (like unlimited likes and "pings" - a like with a little icebreaker comment) are available only for premium members and I am not prepared to pay for that.

One day I got a ping. I'll call him T. He'd very obviously read my profile because he asked about one of my musical interests, and I actually didn't respond for almost a whole day because 1. I couldn't tell if he was asking genuinely or not and 2. I was so intimidated by his profile pictures. That was the most beautiful man I had ever seen and that statement includes Elijah Phox. Tall, with a ruby red mohawk, kinda goth/alternative. I knew next to him I'd look like a goddamn potato and I initially decided to swipe left on him. But then I kept going back to the ping, looking at it, looking at his profile. And then I bit the bullet and responded. He texted back, made a Kraftwerk reference that went over my head but later prompted me to list his number in my phone as "T - Kraftwerk". I did have to ask him to explain the reference, which he did, then the next thing I knew I was telling him about Lawrence of Arabia (1962) and he sounded legit excited. He was very open about being neurodivergent (AuDHD) and very quickly clocked me as also neurodivergent though undiagnosed. Then, within the next 48ish hours we were set: time, date, meeting spot, what we're going to do. We even talked about consent in a broad context: consent to hold my hand, to greet me with a hug, to kiss me on the top of my head because he really liked my buzz cut, to do casual touch because he's tactile like that. He also assured me that if at any point I got overstimulated or uncomfortable and wanted to cut the date short there would be no hard feelings. He even sent me a picture of his car and licence plate beforehand. I was fucking floored. And I was anxious as fuck. This was too good to be true, this would blow up in my face, he would see me and promptly turn around and walk away (yes, this has happened to me in the past). That didn't happen. He showed up. He showed up in a corset and I almost died, even though I knew beforehand that he was going to wear one. He hugged me and kissed the top of my head. We laughed so much because... well, he's 6'7 and I'm exactly 5'. He had to squat to actually give me a hug.

He seemed... happy. Accepted me exactly as I was, short, fat and bald.

We went and got coffee. Looked at the one table that had a couch and instantly went "that one". Made small talk. He consistently used the correct pronouns. He stroked my hand with just his fingertips and asked if it was OK. He then asked if it was OK to hold my hand, if it was OK to put his arm around me, if it was OK to kiss me. I think we then spent a solid 15-20 minutes just sitting together in complete silence, holding each other, idly stroking each other's arms. He had mesh sleeves and I really liked the way they felt. There were a few more kisses and a gentle nudge to finish my coffee before it got cold. Him stroking my back while I tried to drink did not help matters.

Then we went and got lunch. He remembered how I like my tea and sat next to me instead of opposite because he knew I didn't like feeling watched while eating. We talked about stuff and made fun of his mocktail because it matched his hair. He asked if I would be comfortable going back to his place (this had come up beforehand, along with some other fun things like ropes and blindfolds). He held my hand as we walked to his car (I became a kite and that was OK, that was now my life), and then held my hand in the car. We laughed at the M&S petrol station and the ridiculously expensive Northern supermarket (yes, I'm talking about Booth's).

He made me a cup of tea exactly the way I like it, and didn't put on the big light in case it bothered my eyes. After some snogging we ended up in his bedroom, cuddling on top of the covers and watching the lights on the ceiling (his bedroom is extremely autism-friendly, he has these soft, coloured light projectors, a weighted blanket...). Something happened in my brain and I completely let go off all the decades of masking. I was comfortable. I lay there, on T's bed, with his arm around me, just... laughing. And when he asked me gently what was so funny I couldn't tell him because I wasn't sure, all I knew was everything was right in the world.

We did snog some more and then the ropes did come out and it was the most intense, most wonderful experience of my life. I did cry afterwards, in fact I howled like a wounded animal, because that's a pretty intense and emotional thing to do in general, let alone on a first date. And he held me through it and soothed me and told me I was safe and cherished and could let out all the emotions and the guilt. He left only to get me some water and chocolate.

Then he made me another cup of tea and dinner, we cuddled for a while, and then he drove me back home. He held my hand pretty much throughout the drive, letting go only to change gears. He kissed me goodnight.

We were supposed to go on another date. He cancelled an hour before he was due to pick me up, saying he'd had some bad news about a family member and needed to deal with that. I let him know I understood and was sending hugs and then just gave him space. Haven't heard from him since.

I'm sad. I really liked him and I wanted this one good thing from life. I don't want to grieve again. I'm tired and my brain hurts. And so does my heart.

[chaletnz]

Medellin: Comuna 13

Cristian has pointed out his chicken shop and his father's grocery shop so I sat there to finish my ice block and reflect on the tour a bit before going back in for my own exploration. I began with getting some t-shirts, I figured they'd be expensive but the guy said the cheaper ones were 25,000 pesos and the other was 50,000 because it had a print that glowed in the dark. Since I was making an effort to communicate with him respectfully in Spanish he said he'd do the 2 for 60,000 ($14 US) meanwhile an American tourist was yelling up at the other shop worker from the road asking the prices for some prints. He didn't have the medium printed for one of the ones I wanted, so he had me wait in the sweltering shop while he printed it fresh for me. While waiting I heard the other worker trying to speak English to the American tourist and accidentally say the wrong price because he didn't know English hardly at all and the American guy was demanding he sell it for 10,000 instead of 20,000 or something stupid like that (about $2.50 versus $4.50). Luckily for the shop worker, he didn't understand what was happening in this discussion so he just kept showing him his phone with 20,000 typed out on the calculator until the guy ponied up the money for the print. When I left the shop the tiny alleyway road was full of dancers and drummers slowly parading their way down making a lot of noise so I had to step aside for a few minutes until they passed. I rode up the escalators again and tried the oblea sencilla which was like a huge but very thin wafer with caramel sauce inside. With a little snack done I felt like I wanted to find something for dinner since there were so many food options around here. I ended up choosing a small stall where I bought a plate of papas criollas con butifarras - crispy spicy potatoes with some mini sausages and sauces on top. It was only 7,000 pesos, so I added a water for 2,000 and gave the lady 10,000 with the last 1,000 a tip for her as she was so nice and spoke to me in English since she recognised the gringo in me. I sat overlooking the comuna below to eat and then the old man who worked at this stall took my empty plate once I was finished and threw it away for me. I took more photos and visited some more galleries on my way back down, buying one last t-shirt too, and then joining the line for the bus back to the train station. I probably could've got an Uber back to the hostel but instead I took the bus, then the train and walked. Luckily for me I got a seat on the bus and the train so my weary feet only had to carry me the 10 minute walk back to the hostel but that was enough to be in pain by the time I got back. Still, I walked to the cheap D1 store for some more water and a dessert, and then had to collect my laundry from reception and pack it into my bag. I even went down for the free welcome drink later where some know-all American girl was telling me that I should still be wearing the boot everywhere because apparently with her broken finger she is qualified to give me unsolicited medical advice!

[rakkikuroba]

Some of the hardest boss in RE in my opinion and my experience.

No note for Neil or Alex because I struggled more with Pedro that with them lol

12. Mr X. I was too horny to really concentrate on the fight.

11. Lisa Trevor. Giving Barry his gun back for her to just punch him out of the platform made me so fucking angry. Also the Tyrant killed him during the last fight when I was trying to keep everyone alive :)))

10. 20h of gameplay to spent 10min on the last bad guy?? i didn’t like RE4. And I certainly didn’t like the fight against Saddler.

9. Wesker. I have something like 10 tries and 5 of them are me trying to figure out how im supposed to kill the fuckers while struggling with keeping ammos. Sheva was really fucking useless.

8. Jack Norman. Jack is in this because he is honestly the most fucked up BOWs bro could teleport and make illusion of him. Overall it’s was pattern recognition (thx autism) that beat his ass. Also he is terrifying? And Chris was absolutely useless.

7. The Haos. I didn’t have bullet anymore so I would wait for Piers to attack for me. It was long because the bot in RE6 are useless and they kept not healing me while standing right next to me?? And the Haos’s kind of the only memorable boss in RE6 because Piers dies right after :(

6. Jack Krauser this time. (To explain i played the og) COULDN’T THEY TELL ME SOONER I NEED TO USE MY KNIFE??? Leon went kaboom so much because of this

5. Nemesis. Not even going to specify which fight. The two last one. Carlos was useless "Careful more zombies coming" I KNOW IT’S THE 6TH TIME YOURE TELLING ME I CAN’T SHOOT NEMESIS WHEN HES RUNNING ON FUCKING WALL. And i couldn’t figure out how to shoot bro with the big gun.

4. Excella and the cadavers. GUESS WHO ALSO WAS USELESS DURING THIS FIGHT?? SHEVA!! (At least she helped with Jill because i just shot Jill without thinking lol.

3. William but only with Leon (?). Like i spent so long trying to correctly shoot him without him throwing shit at me and with Claire I did it in under 10min??? Then he beat my ass again in Darkside Chronicles. I didn’t feel very sad for him very long…

2. Alexia. Alexia is a pain in the ass. And a naked one. Im at the very end, I have 10 ammos left, Claire’s mourning, my health bar is red. And you’re in a very small space AGAIN. She sends little insects that one-shotted me and then when you finished phase 1 you get phase 2 where she fucking flies and you have to shoot her except she flies and dodges and sends fireball. Almost rage quit (then 5min after Chris get his ass whooped by Wesker)

Special mention for Pedro, ily you’re not on this list because i didn’t beat you with Claire the first time i played lol.

For the fat T-Abyss zombies. You were a pain in the ass because you could one shot me (the most annoying part was the hundred of other zombies who kept spawning)

Not special mention for Simmons. Because you just couldn’t take a hint and kept coming back in another animal, lion, t-rex, fly??? Not even the same animals group?? I can’t remember who else i fought in Re6 because it wasn’t rememberable.

For the little guy in re4, can’t remember his name. Annoying but kinda cathartic ?

And for the OG tyrant, eat shit. But good job killing Wesker lol

Who else did we fight? Do we fight a boss in RE0? I don’t think we did? I mean the plant but not really we exploded it. The plant? I can’t remember the name of the guy im too tired it will come back tomorrow.

1. THE FUCKING TYRANT IN CODE VERONICA. MY SWORN ENEMY. THE VIDEO GAME ENEMY I PROBABLY SPENT THE MOST TIME TRYING TO BEAT. Im not even kidding it took me 3 days to beat his ass. I was in tears when i finally pushed his ass out of my plane. He’s the fucker i don’t want to see in the Remake lol.

[1moreoffkeyanthem]

Uh oh it’s Unsolicited OJV Time again! (The wife is to blame) And you know what I wanna get into?! Why is it orange juice specifically?

So if you’re a regular in PCE Hell, you know the KMBS, the Kyle Mathew Broflovski Special of oj with seven ice cubes and a pinch of salt in a huge terrance and phillip cup, is the reason for which the series is named. But why did I pick that iconic (to me) beverage? Lemme tell ya!

(Under the cut bc of eating issue mention)

I’ve said before that the OrangeJuiceVerse wasn’t written in chronological order, and it will not be, bc I’m like “oh I have an idea for 30 yr old Stan!” and then “college main5 oneshot idea!” “Mid 20s style fic!” SMH I have put the fics in chronological order despite writing them all over the place, for the sake of a crumb of organization, but lord ok what I’m getting at here

So the first idea that wound up being the cornerstone of that au, the one that sat in my notes for so long, was Broken Bottles From Apartment 2. It’s a later ojverse timeline story (11th chronologically I think) but I posted it third. The first fic in that universe, A Fall In The Springtime (I hate that name btw I was trying to make a pun and it sucked rip), wasn’t even the first OJV story to curse ao3. I had written like the first half of the basketball game in ch 1 and I switched gears.

(Unsolicited PCE Lore time)

So during the era I was thinkin abt AFITS and BBFA2, I was also working as the prop master on a film. And I was really, really fucking stressed. I couldn’t eat or sleep and the only thing of any slight nutritional value that I could keep down was orange juice.

And ofc I was like you know who would absolutely have the same problem? Getting so stressed out that they can’t eat? Or won’t? Wendy Testaburger and Kyle Broflovski. So before the stories that were already in the notes for a hot minute got completed? Borrowed Hoodies And Orange Juice hit the shelves. And that detail of Stan keeping oj on standby in his backpack in case Kyle needs it, that felt right. And I carried that into the rest of AFITS.

That got posted a while before OJV was even solidified as the same universe in my mind, and imma be honest, I didn’t initially plan to have an aspect of it being Kyle as a former ed sufferer, but the more I developed him in bbfa2, the more it made sense for his character. So that stayed, even if it wasn’t even mentioned in that fic.

And the biggest kicker? The KMBS has been a staple for Kyle his whole life. His immune system is garbage. He gets sick a lot. Sheila always gave him orange juice with a little salt (for electrolytes) and at some point as he gets older and starts finding comfort in consistency (not this man and his borderline obsessive compulsive tendencies out here 8 years old delirious with the flu and paranoid as hell that if the juice isn’t in that t&p cup with EXACTLY seven ice cubes something bad will happen) BUT this breaks my heart bc when he’s in the trenches of his yeeting disorder he will not touch any liquid that isn’t water or black coffee. And on the rare occasion that he does have a lil juice bc he’s low and his whole life that’s his first instinct to get his blood sugar up? It has to be out of a prepackaged bottle. Not poured from a big carton into The Cup; he needs to see. And people in his life notice, and he’s like “yeah guess I grew out of it haha” oh my god that poor boy so the moment when Stan finds out about the ed, Stan Marsh, who has kept a bottle of minutemaid oj in his backpack since he knew what his best friend being diabetic meant, is with him in the locker room like okay Kyle gets low sometimes but he keeps an eye on his shit pretty well something’s wrong here and then Kyle’s looking at the goddamn nutrition info, still shaking, on the back of the bottle and it hits Stan like a brick to the face and THATS how he figured it out. For like fifteen years, long after Kyle recovered, that backpack bottle has the calorie count (Food Lore as Stan calls it) scribbled out. Just in case.

And it actually does take a while for Kyle to get to be okay with his favorite drink again. He associates it strongly with a chaotic carefree childhood and the ed developed with control as the root cause and anything associated with a time before that gives him a momentary panic. But only a few months out of restriction hell, you start to think “wait why did I think like that that’s fucking stupid” and he starts to have the default of laughing at the irrationality of it all pretty quickly. Stan doesn’t find it funny, Ike doesn’t find it funny, Sheila is on his ass about his eating habits until he’s 50, but Cartman roasts him for being a “stupid little rexie asshole” and Kyle takes comfort in at least one person not being overbearing about it. Stan doesn’t find that funny either.

So in the second ojv, Kyle proves to be really really awesome at comforting Wendy when she breaks down, because he’s been there. Kyle’s just good at comforting people in general, and that carries into his adult life and his career too. OJV Kyle is a middle school counselor. He’s helped a lot of students with a lot of different problems, but in particular, if a teacher notices a kid repeatedly avoiding lunch period and sends them his way, he has the experience tools to help them talk it out. And the minifridge under his desk? Guess what’s in there. ;)

*PastorCraigEnjoyer crawls back into her Cell to be the Comfort Dealer*

[blackvail22]

i cannot help but become irritated when im near her. i know that is a toxic thing to say; i know its unhealthy for me. it just... happens

i tried to have a good day today because i was going out with my sister and b-i-l for my birthday and eating later with my whole immediate family. i did have fun! we bowled for 2hrs, went to a japanese bakery and got my birthday cake n some more treats, and i went to get milk tea.

everything was fine until i was near my mom.

i dont know what it is about her, but whenever im away from her for hours n i come back home, it just.... i just get so irritated.

i try to not talk so i dont get her irritated, but that always makes her go "aww, is someone mad?" or "why are you so pissed off for no reason" or gives me a look that shows shes seeing red.

on the way home from dinner, my parents were talking about a house that someone moved out of; they each gave different addresses for the house. my mom *insisted* she was correct, and--even though my dad literally said he may be wrong n doesnt rlly care abt the address--kept arguing that my dad was wrong and upset.

one thing abt my mom that i despise: EVERY SINGLE TIME you "irritate her soul" she will rant abt how much she hates you and at the end WITHOUT FAIL says "fucking trash bag bitch". what comes after that depends on the person... for me she'll say "fucking trash bag bitch, youre so fucking [r slur]" and for my dad she'll say "fucking trash bag bitch, child molesting mother fucker". there is one thats universal though which is "fucking trash bag bitch, i hope you fucking die"

oh! another thing abt that, SHE WILL LITERALLY SAY THAT ABT RANDOM PPL SHE SEES ON THE STREET AND ARE MINDING THEIR FUCKING BUSINESS

anyway, back to my story! while she was arguing w my dad (after telling me theyre not arguing) she said her signature line i stated above.

my dad went into the gas station after she said that to him and heres where i come in!

she was ranting to me "your dad get so upset over every little thing"

i said "well, you do that too"

she said "no he's just mad cuz he's wrong....he never fucking listens..."

*dad comes back to the car with 3 cigarette packs instead of 2 (my dad went into the gas station 4 my mom)*

"...again, he never fucking listens! he just hears what he wants to hear"

"yeah, i dont rlly want to listen to you rn. plus, all you said was 'cigarettes' you didnt say an amount"

"yes i did! i said '2 cigarettes'"

me: "no u only said 'cigarettes'"

mom: "dad, why are you mad?"

"because you keep going on abt something that doesnt matter to me!"

"no, its because youre wrong. youre all mad because youre wrong"

"no im not!"

*i look at the house through maps and tell them the correct address*

mom: "[my first name] shut the fuck up before you become homeless because youre getting real close"

dad: "stop fucking saying that! youre not kicking my daughter outm regardless, shes never gonna be fucking homeless"

*we get home*

dad: "i forgot to get smth to drink because of you"

mom: "yeah, you can get one of those little bottles [of alcohol] like you do every night" (my dad is a recovered alcoholic)

i told her she was irritating 🧍

she said "move tf out then"

i said "im trying to" (because i am)

im sitting in my room now wanting to scream, cry, fight. i feel so fucking .... tense. i feel tense. im so tired of having to deal with my mom. as much as living w a man by myself (even my dad) scared tf out of me, im so tempted to move into his tiny ass apartment and sleep in the living room. i cant live her anymore!!!

me n my friend have been talking abt getting an apartment/go apartment searching after i recover from my procedure that im having next week.

i need to room w her. i need to live w someone that doesnt fucking hate me! i need to save up every paycheck im having. even tho i go on a vacation end-october, im moving out and im going low-contact w my mom. i cannot deal w her anymore. i will get my license in a month/month-half time. im determined. i need to do anything to get away from her

[nikathingz]

Witch’s Dilemma

Morpheus x Immortal!Witch!Reader

This is purely self indulgent bc I love him so much

Part 2 here - Masterlist

Word count: 2657

(Also this gif is so cute but it makes me want to cry knowing the short moments that follow 😭)

*RING* *RING*

You picked the phone up and held it to your ear with your shoulder as you scribbled runes and incantations into your leatherbound journal “Hello? L/n residence” You said absent mindedly and briefly placed your pen down to look over at the texts you were studying. 

“Uhm, I would like to speak with the mage called Y/n please” a weary male voice spoke through the phone, this piqued your interest, prompting you to set your pen down and fully acknowledge the conversation. 

“That would be me, now who is this?” You questioned leaning on your hand, you had not been known as a mage in many decades. 

“T-this is Alex Burgess, you knew my father Rod-” 

“-Erick Burgess, yes I do, he is the man to have captured a demon in his basement,” you said more to yourself than the man on the phone “He has asked many favors of me in the past, what is the meaning of this call?” You inquired Alex about his business with you. 

“If you would miss, I was hoping you would come out to help me with something, a spell, if you will” His voice, was desperate 

Now he truly had you hooked, what would a Megas's son need with a mage? Was he not magically endowed himself? “What sort of spell is it?” you were already running through thousands of possibilities but unfortunately the only answer that Alex gave, brought much disappointment. 

“I'm afraid I can tell you no more until you arrive,” He said hastily, “Does this mean you will come?” His voice had a boyish hopefulness to it that made your lips quirk up in a slight smile. 

“Yes, just tell me where I need to be and I will travel as quick as the crow flies,” you said, your curiosity sending you into a daydream of what the man could want.

You let out a breath of relief as you pulled into the gravel driveway of the Burgess manor it was late in the evening which basked the manor in an eerie light. You stepped out of the taxi and walked up the creaky steps, rapping on the old wooden door. You stood for a moment before a kind eyed old man opened the door “Well hello, please come in! My name is paul, and you must be Y/n yes?” He asked with a sweet smile and you nodded, returning it. 

“Yes, that is me. It's lovely to meet you Paul” You said and he nodded, leading you to a study where an old man sat perched in a wheelchair by a window. “You must be Alex Burgess” Your words startled him as he jumped slightly and looked in your direction. 

“Yes, yes come in, please” You nodded and allowed some of his help to take your bags, sitting in a cushioned chair he kept in his office. He chuckled and examined your youthful form “I'll be honest, I was expecting someone older, my age perhaps,” he joked and you shifted a bit awkwardly. 

“Haha yeah… sooo about this spell, what is it?” You cut right to the point, you couldn't lie, the question had been eating you alive for the entire week it took for you to prepare and travel to the Burgess manor. 

Alex seemed to stiffen at the mention of your coming here, wordlessly Paul walked behind him and started to wheel him out of the room, and you followed blindly, Paul helped Alex down steep concrete steps and into a cold damp basement. 

The breath was stolen from your lungs as you laid eyes upon a glass sphere, and inside was a man, who had raven hair and sickly pale skin. He remained still and silent in his glass prison, his eyes closed in a false peace. Paul and Alex stood back as you approached the wondrous thing before you, while you had worked with Roderick Burgess in the past he had neither confirmed nor denied the rumor of the demon in his basement, not even to you. 

But this man did not look like a demon, in fact, he looked to be the opposite, he seemed to be crafted by the hands of gods themselves, when you came within reach of the orb you placed a curious hand on the glass, causing the being inside to look up at you. In his eyes you swear you could see the whole cosmos, but past that you could see a human like being. “So the rumors are true…” you muttered

Behind the beauty, in his silvery blue eyes, you could see the faintest amount of curiosity as he looked from you to the firmly planted hand on the glass. When you snapped out of the childish trance the man had captured you in you whipped around to face the old men and the guards who were watching your every movement. 

Your face contorted in disgust and disdain “What is the meaning of this, Alex Burgess? Why do you bring me here under false pretenses and show me this man you keep locked in here like some trophy!?” Your disgust was immeasurable as you turned fully to the men. 

“Your mistaken mage, I did not bring you here under false pretenses, I brought you here to cast a spell that would bind this basement shut, and I do not keep him like a trophy! He has refused to speak for over a century! All he had to do was promise not to hurt us and he could be free!” Alex tried to argue his case but you already had all the information you needed.

Your lip curled in disgust “And how do you expect me to bar this being in your basement when I don't even know what he is?” You questioned and he faltered.

“It's a being more powerful than gods, my father called it ‘Dream of the endless’ it wasn't even the one my father wanted to capture in the first place, please we were just scared that it would hurt us, we never wanted to keep it here, we just wanted to be safe” Alex sighed and spoke more calmly. 

Dream of the Endless, a being greater than gods? And yet here he was, trapped for over a century in glass confinement, all because some mortals got greedy and scared? 

Your stomach churned at the thought of keeping him locked in here for as long as the foundation of this house stood. You gnawed on the inside of your cheek in thought, briefly glancing over your shoulder to look at the Endless, his eyes were still trained on your figure, but his brow was slightly furrowed as if deep in thought himself. 

“Please, this is our last result. We just want to be happy,” Paul pleaded and he clutched his lover's hand. 

You inhaled a deep breath and stepped away from the glass sphere, feeling overwhelmed at the moral dilemma. “I need to think…” you muttered and crossed the room to stand in front of Alex and Paul “If you would be so kind as to show me my room, I'm exhausted from travel. I certainly could not perform such magic in my current state,” you stated and they both nodded, understanding. You followed as Paul helped Alex up the steps. 

As you walked through the iron gate you looked back at Dream, whose demeanor had changed from when you had first walked into the basement before it was curiosity, now it was cold. You couldn't get rid of this looming feeling of despair. 

Your sleep was restless that night, tossing and turning and unable to get rid of the image of him sitting in there for gods know how long, it was early in the morning before you finally rolled out of bed, deciding that a cup of water might help ease your troubled mind. 

The house was quiet as everyone was asleep, you padded downstairs and into the old creaky kitchen, rifling through the cabinets to find a glass to quell your thirst. Your fingers bounced in thought, did you really want to do this? If you helped Alex then when the Dream King finally did escape you would be the only one alive for him to seek revenge on, and quite frankly you did not want to piss off one of the Endless. 

You had read about the Endless a few decades ago, they were exactly as they were named, endless beings more powerful than gods, created by Father Time and Mother Night, Destiny, Death, Dream, Destruction, Desire, Despair, and Delerium. 

You had met Death once, it was a long time ago but you remembered her kind smile, she was the reason you were still walking the earth today. You leaned on the counter in thought, remembering the deal you struck with her to gain your immortality. 

Thinking about Death made you wonder why Dream’s siblings had not come to help him, the rumors of his predicament surely had to have reached the other Endless- of course, they had. You wanted to slap yourself, they knew what happened to him, and they were afraid that if they tried to come to his aid they would end up just like him. Your gut twisted in sorrow for him, abandoned by his siblings and made prisoner by the humans he was supposed to bring extravagant dreams to. 

You finished off the glass and placed it delicately in the sink, padding back into the hall and stopping at the bottom step. You looked down the wall to the door that lead into the basement and heard a small voice in your head telling you to descend the stairs and gaze upon the ethereal being trapped like an animal. 

Ignoring the pounding in your chest, you approached the basement door, there was a brief moment after you wrapped your hand around the brass knob where you considered turning and returning to your room, waking tomorrow, and just doing the damned spell. But instead, you pushed the door open and carried on down into the damp room, The Endless sat just as he did when you had last seen him earlier, elbows resting on his knees and arms crossed over his lap, in an effort to preserve his dignity. 

One of the guards had gotten up to meet you at the gate, and you watched as his face was overtaken with confusion. “I apologize but I can't allow you to enter, Mr. Burgess doesn't allow any house guests down here alone, you’ll have to come back in the morning-” He tried to deter you but you stayed firm, giving him a hard glare. 

“Mr. Burgess knows I’m down here, in fact, you both can go home, I've come to prepare my spell and it would be in your best interest to not be present unless you wanna be stuck in here with him for eternity,” you nodded past him to the Endless, who stared at you with a fierce glare. The man opened the gate and allowed you to step inside while he and his partner scurried to gather their things and leave the basement. You were honestly surprised he believed you, you were still in your pajamas and had none of your arcana with you.

Once left alone you shifted awkwardly on your feet, the cold concrete uncomfortable against your bare feet. His head cocked to the side as he watched you wearily approach, your eyes trained on the gold binding circle as you walked across the room to stand on the small water surrounded square of concrete where the circle was laid. His glare was unnerving as you crouched and ran a finger lightly over the binding circle and lifted it to see a slight residue on your fingertips. 

She looked up at him and was almost taken aback by the mix of curiosity and pure displeasure, “Don't look at me like that, I don't actually plan on locking you down here, I'm just trying to actually get a plan together before someone realizes what I'm actually doing down here” You said and stood up with a sigh, knocking on the glaze to try and gauge just how much force would be needed to break it. 

Dream’s jaw clenched and unclenched as you stared at him with a sour look on your face, you looked over your shoulder to the desk that the night guards had hastily abandoned, you looked at your hand and determined you definitely couldn't even crack the glass if you simply punched it. So you crossed the room to the desk and pulled the small lamp off of it, yanking the cord out of the wall, you turned on your heel and raised your arm over your head, and flung the lap right at the orb of glass. 

Dream lurched back in surprise as the lamp collided with the glass, causing cracks to spiderweb outwards from the point of impact, but not enough to fully breakthrough through. His eyes were wide in disbelief as he stared at the damaged glass. You hurriedly walked back over and started to rub the gold runes etched on the floor with your foot while pressing a hand on the glass and giving the distraught Endless a slight smile “I'm sure you can take it from here yeah? Just one thing before I get the hell out of here though” you glanced down to see that you had rubbed a good chunk of the golden binding away.

 “Just give me a few minutes to get properly out of here before you bust out of this joint, I’d rather not be around for what happens when you do break this glass cage,” you said with a light chuckle while walking back across the room watching as he shifted up onto his knees to properly examine the damage you’d done to not only the spell that kept his powers at bay but also the glass that kept him confined here. 

He looked back up at you, his brows pinched together, so curious as to why you were different than all the other humans that visited the basement during the over a hundred years the Burgess’s had kept him bound here. He watched as your form retreated and disappeared from the basement and listened as the floors creaked above him, he didn't understand why but he sat there on his knees for several minutes until the house was encompassed in silence. 

Meaning you were gone, and that he could finally escape this hellish place after over a century. 

And he was correct, after you disappeared from the basement you had rushed as quietly as possible upstairs to gather the little items you had brought with you, then booked it out of the house not wanting to wait around to see how royally pissed the Endless would be when it fully registered to him that he was no longer bound to that glass case. 

You felt light despite the fear that he might also want to knock heads with you, deep in your soul you knew that you had done the right thing by aiding in his escape, and a little voice in the back of your head assured you that he would be more inclined to spare you for not sealing him in the basement. 

You were able to catch a ride back to the city where you could rent a car to get you back home, opting for it better than getting cabs all the way back as you had on the way over, you don't remember when but some days after you had arrived back in the safety of your apartment you had seen that Alex had caught a severe case of the sleepy sickness, and you had nothing but pleasant dreams every time you slept.

You had an inkling that both were work of the sandman.

•••

I love this sm, I had so much fun with it I hope you love it as much as I do

[theminecraftbox]

While we're on the fun, happy topic of c!Sam and c!Dream and food, I still can't get over how c!Dream treated c!Sam when the tables were turned, how he gave him steaks, a gapple, a cake, how he doesn't treat food as some kind of privilege to be taken away at the first sign of bad behavior. c!Dream could have given him nothing, or given him raw potatoes, treated c!Sam the exact same way c!Sam treated him, tit for tat, but he DIDN'T. 1/2

/dsmp /rp

Dream knows what it’s like to be hungry.

In fact, he knew before he ever entered the prison: there was a reason he thought he’d be fine eating raw potatoes and nothing else, for an extended period of time.

He wasn’t prepared for food to be withheld. He wasn’t prepared to have to bargain and ask and ration. It was fine for awhile, though—even if he wasn’t expecting it, he does know how to hoard and how to ration. It became less fine. And less fine. And then the torture started, and it became nearly unbearable. (Nearly, though. Still only nearly.)

What’s the worst part of all, though, is that Dream knows it’s pointless. The first time Sam limited his food was very early on, in an attempt to get Dream to stop burning his clock. It didn’t work. Dream didn’t care, Sam can’t control him like that. But apparently Sam didn’t get the memo, because he kept trying, even though it was useless, even though Dream made it clear! Then Sam limits the food when Tommy dies—which ends up starving Tommy right alongside Dream. Then Sam’s sporadic with food while Techno’s imprisoned—to absolutely no purpose, no one is even questioning them!

So why was Sam doing it? Why was Sam contravening his responsibilities? And Sam tells him why: Sam tells him it’s because Dream designed the prison, Dream designed the food. And Dream designed it for Tommy. So it’s vengeance: vengeance for a crime that in reality Dream never even committed, a crime that was always targeted at himself and no one else, least of all Tommy; but in Sam’s mind the deed was done and the starvation richly deserved. Karmic retribution.

Dream doesn’t treat food as a privilege to be taken away, nor as a reward for good behavior. But he does treat it as display of lavish generosity, something that Sam doesn’t deserve but that Dream oh so kindly bestows on him anyway—even without Sam asking. Especially without Sam asking. Especially when Sam has pissed him off: especially in those moments where Dream wants Sam to know that Sam’s earned punishment and Sam’s earned starvation, but that instead, Dream is giving him food. Not just any food—good food. Not just any good food—food that requires thought, effort, and care.

Dream invokes food and hunger and starvation over and over. And when he does, Dream is communicating, in effect:

“Look, the things you said about what food I deserved weren’t even TRUE. I hadn’t earned what you did, you could have taken it back at any time. There was no purpose to what you did. You weren’t even using the starvation to get what you wanted from me—it doesn’t even have the excuse that Quackity’s torture did, because you knew it wasn’t working. You were punishing me for something I hadn’t even done. It was blind misguided spite, plain and simple.”

“And see, now that I’m in the position you were in, I’m not doing the same! Not because it’s evil. Because it’s STUPID.”

“I could use starvation as a punishment—and unlike what you did to me, it would be true karmic retribution, because you literally starved me! I could use starvation as an interrogation tool—and unlike what you did to me, it would be effective, because you’re an idiot and obviously desperate! But instead, it’s much more effective to show you that I don’t NEED to stoop to your level. I can take your book from you without hurting you. I can show you that the foundations of your cruelty are built on fucking sand.”

“I want to make you suffer, and it will hurt you SO much more to know that I, the man you despise as the paragon of all evil, the fucking Antichrist, am treating you with kindness you don’t deserve and never showed me. Not only that: but you rely on my kindness to stay alive. Starvation is not something I am doing to you: it is something I am SAVING YOU FROM. The only thing standing between you and a miserable, hungry death is me—your worst enemy, the man you abused for a year, the man with absolutely no reason to lift a finger to save you from this situation you put yourself in and so richly deserve.”

“So take this cake that I made with my own two hands, and chew on THAT.”

[lollypopsx]

Flatmate! Harry: I’ll Make It Up To You - Part 1

Warnings: Swearing, slight angst 

Please like if it’s not too shabby, reblog for anyone who may enjoy this and follow if you want to see more! Any suggestions are happily taken for future writing! I love you all! be safe and be kind x

Part 2 - Part 3

—————————

You was going to kill him. This was the last straw and you had used up every ounce of patience today.

“Harry Edward Styles! Get in here right now or I swear to fucking god you won’t ever breath again!” You shout, your hands clutching the towel wrapped around your body. Your hair styled in a bouncy blow dry with a full face of makeup, a brown smoky eye and a nude lip.

The two of you bicker and argue like enemies, laugh like the best of friends and love each other like a married couple. Although you were only flat mates and nothing had ever gone further than friends, you knew Harry would never see you in that way, however the tiniest part of you had always hoped one day you’d be proven wrong. But you knew all along you’d rather have him as a best friend than lose him all together.

You hear the footsteps round the corner and a grin like the Cheshire Cat plastered on Harrys face “Do you mind? I’m trying to write some music Y/N” he smirks.

“Where the hell are all my clothes?! And where the fuck is my guitar?!” You shout angrily. You were no stranger to practical jokes in this house, both giving and receiving them. But today was different. You had the most important audition of your lifetime, and half of your room had been emptied. 

The laughter escaping Harry’s lips was making you angrier and angrier by the second. “I told you that you’d regret stealing my jumpers!” He smirks.

“That doesn’t mean you take everything I own! Now where to hell is it all?!”

“Ah now you see…this is where it gets fun…you see we’ve made you a little scavenger hunt to find it all. All you have to do is-”

“We?! Who’s we?!” You growl through gritted teeth.

“Ok ok…I can’t take all the credit for this…Niall helped. So…here’s the rules!”

“Harry!” You cut him off “I don’t have time for a fucking scavenger hunt! I have my audition in an hour and I’m already running late! Just get me some fucking clothes and my guitar so I can leave!”

As soon as you had mentioned your audition, the smug grin fell from Harrys face and his rosy cheeks had drained to pale “oh shit. T-that’s today?! I…I thought it was Friday” he frowns “w-well all your stuff is in Niall’s car and he’s in Brighton so I can just get him to drive back asap and…” he fumbles for his phone quickly.

“Brighton?! Harry you have 3 seconds to tell me this is a joke before I rip your pretty little head off! That’s 2 hours away Harry! I’ll never make it in time!”

“Y/N I’m so sorry! I am I really am, I would never have done this today if I knew” Guilt filling his eyes.

“You knew Harry! It’s written on the fridge, on the calendar and you helped me rehearse two days ago!”

“Why don’t I just go and buy you something to wear?” He offers, although he was currently terrified to speak incase his head really did get ripped off. He hadn’t seen you this angry since you pierced holes in three of your ex-boyfriends tyres after finding out he cheated.

“Well that’s pointless because I haven’t got my guitar and you don’t even have your acoustic guitar here. Forget it Harry. Just get out.” You mutter, your head hanging low in disappointment. Even if you left now you’d be late, and that was frowned upon. Turning up anywhere late was bad enough, let alone an audition. If you’re going to turn up late, then there’s no point turning up at all because you wouldn’t even be given a chance. The entertainment business was a difficult place to be, and this was your one chance to really make something bigger for yourself and it was ruined.

“Y/N I…”

“I said get out!” You scream, releasing the built up fury “go and join Niall in Brighton for all I fucking care. Leave me alone. I’m so disappointed Harry” you felt the tears threatening to spill down your cheeks.

The sight of you on the verge of tears was enough to break his heart. He wanted to protest, he wanted to make it all better. But he knew you too well. He knew if he didn’t leave you alone to calm down then it would make everything worse than it already was. He had never felt so guilty. In the 4 years you had lived together, practical jokes never made either of you angry. Sure they were embarrassing at times, but you two always had the best of times. At what made it even worse this time was that he had made you cry…and you’d used the ‘D’ word on him!

Harry had left, shutting the front door quietly as he headed to the studio to get out of your hair for a few hours. Also calling Niall in the process to get him to get the fuck home asap. It may have seemed like a pretty extreme joke, but they didn’t intend it to turn out this way. The plan was that the scavenger hunt would lead you to Brighton with Harry to meet Niall there, and the three of you would spend the day and night by the beach, shopping, drinking, eating...everything that you loved to do.

As hours passed, you found yourself tucked under the mountain of blankets on the sofa, wearing a pair of Harry’s boxers, joggers and a white hoodie. Which you purposely chose because your makeup rubbed off on the collar and the sleeves as you wiped your tears. 

You felt deflated and disappointed. You should have been more prepared...no actually, Harry shouldn’t of been a dick. You knew he didn’t mean to jeopardize your audition, but these auditions didn’t come along often and part of you just wasn’t ready to let this go yet.

Harry crept in quietly, although you didn’t hear him, or at least you didn’t want to. “ Hey...Y/N” he whispers softly, walking through the living room door cautiously.

“Hm?” you mutter, not allowing yourself to speak a word to him, and especially making sure your eyes were glued to Netflix, not giving him the satisfaction of paying attention.

“I...I got you these” He whispers, placing a big bouquet of red roses and white lilies on the glass coffee table in front of you. You looked straight passed them “Oh wow...maybe I should send these over to the directors and producers to say sorry and maybe they can make an exception for little Y/N to try again!” you state sarcastically, but your facial expression staying as blank as possible.

He sighs softly and perches himself on the arm of the sofa, he gently pulls your shoulders back for you to rest your back against his thigh. “I know it doesn’t change what I did Y/N, and believe me if I could of changed anything I would, and if I could turn back time, I’d do anything”

“You really fucked up Harry” you whisper, your voice cracking gently as you wiped your tears on the sleeve of his hoodie. “You don’t get it. You’re Harry Styles and you get everything handed to you on a plate because everyone already knows who you are! You’ve done what like...three auditions in your life and you’ve succeeded every single one. It’s not like that for me. I spent hours and hours practicing. And weeks just writing these songs in hope they get heard one day and now they won’t because word spreads really quick in this industry.” You still couldn’t bring yourself to look into his eyes, because you hated people seeing you cry. 

He sighed softly, staying silent as he pulled you up gently and sitting himself underneath you as he wrapped his arms around you tightly. He was always the first to help you rehearse when you had an audition, the first to comfort you if it went wrong or you didn’t succeed, and the first to celebrate and congratulate you when you did get it. Unfortunately, this time no one will ever know how it would have gone. He knew he couldn’t say much else because he knew you were right.  

You wanted to resist, but instead you buried your face into his chest and whimpered softly. As disappointed as you were, you knew Harry was truly sorry and he’d hang onto this guilt for a while. He held you close as his gentle fingers raked through your hair.

“I’ve put everything back in your room, all folded and neat” He whispers “I’ll make it up to you. I promise” He kept his arms around you supportively, although his chest was heavy with guilt, he already had a plan conjuring in his mind. 

—————————

[facewithoutheart]

Ok idk if these could all go in the same one but:

- resisting the urge to kiss forever, then muttering “fuck it” before kissing each other.

- accidentally saying “i love you” too early, but the other pulls them in for a kiss and says it back.

- dropping hints that they’re in love, but the other doesn’t catch on until they’re pulled in for a kiss.

OOF KATI. Lol. Ok here we go:

Code Snuggles, T, 1.3k

1.

“Code snuggles,” Simon says, crawling under the covers to press up against me.

I wrap one arm around his waist. “Bad day?”

He shakes his head against my neck, curls tickling under my chin. If he was anyone else I’d stop him. “Don’t wanna talk about it.”

My fingers rub circles into his lower back. “Okay.”

Okay. This is fine.

It’s not like I’ve been in love with Simon for half my life. (I have.)

It’s not like he’s in my bed more often than his own. (He is.)

It’s not like there’s anything I have to confess. (I might do it against my will, if he keeps shifting his weight against my hips.)

“How can I help?” I ask, if only to distract him from the way I tilt away my pelvis.

He releases a deep sigh which seems to release every ounce of tension from his body. (While adding a universe of stress onto my own.) “You’re already helping, Baz. You always do.”

His admittance evaporates my pining. “You know I’m here for you.”

“I do,” Simon whispers, his lips moving against my collarbone. “I do.”

2.

Another night, another code. This time it’s mine.

Code snuggles 911, a text Simon answers with his presence.

“I could have come to you,” I scold when Simon dips between my sheets. I gave him a key years ago; I love when he uses it.

He settles into my waiting arms. “I know, but,” he warms up his cold nose by rubbing it against my neck, “I like how your bed smells.”

I use fragrance-free laundry detergent. That means the smell Simon likes is…

“Bad day?” he asks.

It couldn’t be, not anymore. Not now that he’s here, beside me.

“It’s getting better,” I admit.

He yawns against my shoulder. “Am I helping?”

Someday I’m going to tell him. “I suppose.”

Simon has this way of falling asleep where he twitches and shudders, like he’s resisting what’s good for him. (I make him eat salads; I know what he’s like when confronted with anything not drenched in butter.) Then, muscle by muscle, he relaxes against me.

“Wanna talk about it?”

“No,” I answer too quickly, disrupting Simon’s descent into bonelessness.

I dip my chin down, my lips skimming the tips of his curls. If I tilt my chin side to side it’s almost like I’m kissing them. “I just need you,” I say.

It feels like a confession. It feels like too much.

Then, Simon releases a deep snore.

3.

There are no words this time. I left my door unlocked.

“C’mere,” I whisper when Simon blocks the doorway with his silhouette.

“I don’t want to be a burden,” he says.

I throw back the sheets. “You’re only a burden when you steal the last La Croix.”

“I did that one time!” he huffs, crossing the room and flopping onto the mattress beside me.

I’d give him every Coconut Sparkling Water in the world if it kept the tears he normally spills on this day off his face.

Simon stays on the edge of the bed; I scoot over to find him. “C’mere,” I repeat, though I’ve eliminated the distance between us. “I’m cold.” He’s more likely to cuddle if he thinks I need it.

“I didn’t even say Code Snuggles.” He’s still stiff in my arms.

I press our foreheads together. “Don’t you think I know you by now?” I pretend to shiver. I cup the back of his head with my hand.

“I know you’re not cold.” His feet drag against mine. “You’re wearing your comfy socks.”

“Do you want them?”

He shakes his head and pulls back, just for a second, before settling his chin against my chest. “I’m a year older than she was when she died,” he says.

I let my fingers scratch his scalp. Did his mom do this for him? Is she watching?

Would she approve?

Is it taking advantage to purse my lips where they fall against the top of his head? To pretend he’s mine to keep, to hold? To protect?

“I think she’d be happy,” I offer, “to know you’re still carrying on.”

Simon hums, his arms wrapping around me to tug on the loose threads of my worn pyjama top. “What else would she think?”

I don’t know; I never met her. Neither did Simon, not really. She died when he was two.

“She’d be proud of you,” I tell him.

He huffs. “How would you know?”

It’s never been harder not to kiss him. “Because I am.”

1.

Simon

Baz calls when he needs me and I come; I always do.

I use the key he’s shared, the one I’ve labelled with a Sharpie heart.

“Baz?” I call out. He doesn’t answer. I follow my well-worn path to his bedroom.

When was the last time I slept when not beside him?

He’s sitting up on his bed when I enter. “Simon,” he greets me, pulling down the sheets to make room on the mattress.

I take my usual spot and let him tuck me in. “What’s this look on your face?” I ask him, eyes narrowed.

It doesn’t look like he’s in a Code Snuggles zone.

He puts away the book he’s reading, face down and open.

“You’ll hurt the spine,” I object. “Where’s your bookmark?” What’s happening? This isn’t like him.

“Simon,” he repeats, scooting down on the bed and I mimic his actions until we’re face to face, shoulders deep in the sheets. Eyes wide (his) and body trembling (mine).

“What is it, Baz?” I whisper. My lowered voice still feels too loud for whatever moment we’re building.

He cups the side of my face with his hand.

Baz

This is it. This is the moment I tell him.

Simon

I still have no idea what’s going on.

Baz

He’s the love of my life; I need him to know.

Simon

Maybe I’ve pushed him too far?

Baz

If he doesn’t want this, I’ll settle. No. I won’t settle; being Simon’s friend could never be my consolation prize.

Simon

Oh god, he knows.

Baz

I want to kiss him. Just this once. And then I’ll never push again.

Simon

He’ll never forgive me for wanting more.

Baz

That wouldn’t be so bad, would it? Having known the taste of Simon’s lips. Just this once.

Simon

Fuck it.

Baz

Wait.

Simon

I’ll burn our friendship down.

Baz

Simon…

Simon

Fuck it all; I just want.

Baz

Does he?

Simon

I want.

Baz

Can I…

Simon

Baz.

Baz

Simon presses his lips against mine. First, I twitch. Then I shudder.

Simon

Let us have this.

Baz

With a deep groan, I dig my fingers into his hair and deepen our kiss.

Simon

Oh. Oh.

Baz

“I love you,” I whisper.

Simon’s whole body freezes.

Ah. Fuck. So long, cruel world.

Simon

Did he…

“Did you…”

Baz

I can still feel my lips tingling with the remnants of Simon’s kiss and, whatever else happens, I know now the truth of the cliche, “Better to have loved...”

Because I’ve been consumed, body, mind and soul, by Simon Snow and I’ll never regret that, not even if I’ve lost it forever.

Simon

I can feel Baz spiralling. “Code snuggles,” I command.

Baz

My eyes snap to his.

Simon

“Baz,” I smile, cupping his cheek to mirror his position. “I love you, too.”

He blinks. “You do?”

I can’t help it; I laugh. “Did you really not know?”

Baz

I really, really didn’t.

Simon

I kiss Baz’s forehead. “It’s fine; I’ll prove it.”

“Oh really?” Baz sneers, the effect somewhat diminished by the broad grin he can’t seem to stifle.

“Oh really,” I repeat, my own smile working to outshine his.

It’s not like we don’t have time. (We do.)

It’s not like we can’t feel the love we share. (It’s always been here, only now we’re brave enough to acknowledge it.)

It’s not like we have anything left to confess. (Well… maybe…)

I wrap my arms around him. “You know it’s always been you, for me.”

Baz releases a deep sigh. “I’m beginning to see–” he starts. Clears his throat. “I do.”