#and like I feel so guilty for it too bc all my friends like them so wtf is wrong with me???

[homesick4la]

complicated — hamzahthefantastic

1. pushing it down and praying

contains: a little cheating..smoking, some nsfw content but nothing crazy

summary: after half a year of no contact, you run into your ex at a party.

a/n: kinda got this idea from the lizzy mcalpine song bc i am obsessed with it. so listen if you haven’t lol. also i decided to split the fic but it’s only gonna be two parts!

it’d officially been six months since you and your ex boyfriend went no contact.

the first few months were hell for you.

of course, you went through the stereotypical phase of eating ice cream and crying to rom-coms directly after your break up. but that short-lived phase gradually shifted into one that was much more melancholic once the two of you decided to go no contact.

everyday that you woke up, you were engulfed by an emotional numbness. a dull pain that served as a constant reminder of your grief.

you were grieving what the relationship was and what it could’ve been.

you had always envisioned your future with hamzah in it which is why the lack of communication between the two of you left you absolutely soulless.

you had never experienced such an intense love before him. everything was picture perfect in the beginning. it was even better than the movies.

but after two years, the miscommunication between you to became destructive.

things that should have been minor disagreements escalated into full blown arguments. you’d yell over each other, ignoring each other’s feelings and growing overwhelmingly defensive.

eventually, it became exhausting. you were both so angry all the time and too stressed with work or school to address it properly.

ultimately, you two mutually decided to call it quits. additionally, you later agreed that going no contact would be the best option for both of you.

now, half a year later, you were finally trying to move on.

after reading an endless amount of self-help books, you learned that after experiencing every stage of relationship grief (which you had), you theoretically should be ready to search for love again.

despite your reluctance, your best friends had forced you to join all the dating apps- urging you to hook up with someone new to get your mind off your ex.

it took days of swiping left on men that were literally the epitome of a walking red flag for you to finally find a man suitable enough to go on a date with.

his name was matthew. he recently graduated from college and instantly started a 9-5 working in finance. he spent his free time hiking. he had a golden retriever.

he was kind. he was stable. but he wasn’t hamzah.

you two had gone on a few dates. you had even hooked up after a couple of them.

as guilty as it made you, each hook up was spent closing your eyes- imagining hamzah on top of you. that it wasn’t matthew deep inside of you but it was hamzah; the one that knew your body like the back of his hand and knew just how to please you every time.

you were giving your all to this “moving on” stage but you simply weren’t satisfied.

that being said, when matthew had asked you to attend an old friend’s party with him on your last date, you politely agreed.

now here you were, shuffling through a crowd of sweaty bodies with a man that barely knew you guiding you by your waist.

“how do you know the host again?” you ask, nearly yelling over the music that was blasting through numerous speakers.

“he’s a friend from my hometown, remember? from ottawa?”

“right, right. i remember now.” you look up at him. you did not remember.

you two make your way into the kitchen. he pours shots of vodka into red solo cups and hands one to you.

you feel the familiar burn of alcohol stinging your throat as you down the shot.

“you look gorgeous tonight by the way. forgot to tell you earlier.” he tells you, running his hand up and down your waist.

hamzah would’ve told you earlier. he would’ve been kissing up and down your neck before you even finished your makeup while getting ready. reiterating how beautiful you are each time his lips left your skin.

fuck. there you go again. comparing everything matthew said or did to hamzah.

he’s not in your life anymore, you think to yourself. it’s time to get over him.

“thank you.” you answer matthew, mustering up a smile.

“you ready to go meet my friends?”

“yeah, let’s go! i’m excited to meet them.” you were lying straight through your teeth. but you continued to put on this enthusiastic act simply because he was nice.

he leads you to the main room where you meet a couple of his hometown friends. one named kyle. another named josh.

they were essentially carbon copies of matthew. frat bros that grew up and became finance guys.

you quietly listen as the boys catch up on one another’s lives.

until something, someone, catches your eye.

hamzah. he was across the large room with his back faced toward you. but it had to be him.

you could recognize the shape of his shoulders and you knew that those dark curls stuffed under a camo hat could only belong to him.

you stomach drops. somehow, you had never ran into him since the breakup.

the sight of him mixed with the alcohol made you sick to your stomach.

“hey”, you tap on matthew’s shoulder. “i’m gonna go find a bathroom real quick.” you explain.

“okay, just come find me when you’re done.” he replies before resuming his conversation with his friends.

you turn around, walking in the direction of a long hallway that you knew must have a bathroom.

you turn the doorknob of the first door you find and miraculously, it is a bathroom.

you clutch onto the counter, letting out a sharp exhale.

one of your hands grips to your stomach while you continue taking deep breaths.

in for 4. hold for 7. out for 8. you repeat.

a breathing technique that hamzah had taught you.

you hear the doorknob rattle. before you can say anything, the door is being launched open.

“oh shit! sorry!”, you hear a familiar voice as the door is being pulled closed again. “wait- y/n?”

the voice belonged to mandy. hamzah’s bestfriend’s girlfriend. you forgot that her and martin were from ottawa. they must’ve known the host of the party.

she steps inside, shutting the door behind her.

“are you okay? what’re you doing here? i haven’t seen you in so long.” she pulls you into a hug.

“yeah i’m here with some guy i’ve been seeing. but i saw hamzah and just needed to take a sec.” you explain during your embrace.

she pulls away, looking in your eyes.

“did he see you?”

“no, he was facing the other direction.”

“oh okay”, she nods and looks down.

“yeah. i haven’t seen him since we ended things so, it gave me a bit of panic attack.” you chuckle awkwardly.

“i’m sorry, y/n. break ups suck.” she pauses, “when i went through my first break up, i saw my ex at an amusement park about a month after. and i got so upset, i threw up in front of one of those stupid basketball games where you can win a big teddy bear.”

you laugh at her story, “seriously?”

“yes! it was so bad, the worker ended up giving me one of those huge bears out of pity!” she exclaims.

once your laughter dies down, mandy breaks the silence once again.

“he still talks about you, you know. every once in a while.”

every once in a while. you had thought of him every single day.

“every once in a while?”

“yeah. seems like most of the time it’s too hard for him to talk about. but sometimes, he can’t help himself.”

maybe he did think of you as often as you did.

“anyway”, she continues, “whose this new guy?”

she smirks teasingly.

“ugh. mandy, he’s so boring! but he’s so nice! he’s just- he’s nothing like hamzah. i don’t know- he’s really sweet, it’s just not, exciting? i guess?”

she nods. “well, if you want my advice..i say you shouldn’t stay with someone just because they’re nice to you. a lot of people are nice. only a few people will make you feel ‘sparks’ or whatever.”

you nod understandingly.

god you missed talking to her.

“i gotta get back to martin but if you want to talk to hamzah, he went out on the balcony. and let’s not have to run into each other at a random party to catch up again, ‘kay? text me.”

“okay.” you hug her tightly, “we’ll go for coffee soon.”

she smiles before exiting the bathroom.

you look into the mirror, trying to decide if going out on the balcony is a good idea.

“fuck it.” you whisper to yourself.

you didn’t know when you’d ever get the opportunity to speak to hamzah again. you had to go out on that balcony.

you walk out of the bathroom, sneaking past matthew who was still deep in conversation.

turning the corner past the main room, you find the sliding glass door to the balcony.

there he is. alone. sat on the small balcony, lighting a joint that hangs between his lips.

with his camo hat he wore a pair of dark wash jeans and white t-shirt.

you take a deep breath before reaching to slide open the door.

his head instantly whips towards you, his eyes widening a bit.

“hi.” you break the silence. you feel awkward. what are you supposed to say to someone you’ve been completely heartbroken over for the last six months?

“hey.” his eyes soften as he speaks.

“i, um- ran into mandy. she told me you were out here.” you explain to him.

he nods slowly. “come sit.” he pats the space on the floor next to him.

you do as he says. plopping onto the ground and pulling your knees to your chest.

he takes a drag from the joint between his fingers before pulling it out and handing it over to you. you two had shared a joint countless times during your relationship, making the action feel natural.

you bring the joint to your lips, sucking on it for a few seconds before blowing out the smoke and handing it back to him.

“how’ve you been?” he asks.

his voice was calm. you wondered how he could act so nonchalant in this situation.

“i’ve been okay. school’s been stressful.” you say, trying to avoid ranting about the emotional turmoil you’ve experienced since you two separated. “how about you?”

“good. just working a lot. martin and i upload multiple times a week now and run the merch ourselves so it’s been busy, but it’s fun.” his face lights up as he talks about it. he’d always been passionate about his career.

“that’s great, hamzah. i still remember when you had him up on that cracked screen just to have him on the pod.” you laugh.

“oh god, it was a shit show trying to get that thing to run properly.” he chuckles at the memory.

it falls silent for a moment.

“you still gonna become a journalist?” he asks, cocking his head to the side while looking at you.

“that’s the plan, yeah.” you answer.

“good. you were always good with words.”

“yeah?” you smile.

“of course, it’s why i was always calling you smarty pants.”

you chuckle at the nickname you’d forgotten about.

“i thought you were calling me that because of my attitude.” since childhood, you were teased for being bit of a know it all.

“i mean- yeah that was part of it.” he laughs, “but it was mostly because of that big brain of yours.”he taps his pointer finger to your temple.

“well, i don’t feel very smart these days.” you admit. “my grades have been slipping.”

“seriously? how come?”

“just had a rough last couple months.” you try to remain vague.

“your new guy not keeping you happy?”

your eyes widen. how did he know about matthew?

“did you see me with him inside?”

“yeah. i was about to walk into the kitchen when i saw you two together.”

you exhale deeply. “oh, uh. sorry about that.”

“answer my question, y/n.” his voice was low, serious.

“what?” your voice tinged with confusion.

“are you happy?”

you think for moment. you could lie, tell him you’re happy, let him believe that you’ve moved on. but everything in you wants to be honest with him.

“i’m trying to be.” you respond quietly before taking the joint from his hands and up to your mouth once again.

his eyes were glued to you as pushed the smoke from your mouth, like he was studying your face.

“that guy’s not right for you.” he shook his head as he spoke.

“hamzah, you don’t know him.” you’re not sure why you feel the need to defend matthew but you do.

“i can see what kind of guy he is—the kind that can’t even begin to grasp the complexity to you.” he explains.

“you’re high, hamzah. and you’re jumping to conclusions.”, you shift your position on the ground, “based on looks, might i add. didn’t they teach you not to do that in elementary school? the whole don’t judge a book by its cover thing? did you tune that part out?” you say as you stand from your spot. it pained you how well hamzah could read people- how accurate his description of matthew was.

“baby all this rambling makes it seem like you’re avoiding the truth—that he’s not good enough for you. and you’re not happy. i mean has he even noticed how long you’ve been gone?”

you forgot how stubborn this man could be.

you let out a defeated sigh. “it’s none of your business, really. and you’re right, i’ve been gone too long. i should get back to him.”

you steal the joint from his hand and take one last drag before you start to walk back towards the sliding glass door. you hear hamzah rise to his feet behind you.

“y/n, wait.”

you turn around, facing towards him again. “yeah?”

“i’m sorry. i shouldn’t have said that.” he apologizes.

“s’okay.”, you shrug your shoulders. “it was nice running into you.”

he nods agreeably.

you turn back around, beginning to accept that this was it. your last few seconds with him before you were back to no contact.

your hand reaches the sliding glass door, about to pull the door open when you hear hamzah’s voice once again.

“y/n, don’t go.”

don’t go.

“what?” you question, furrow your eyebrows.

he takes slow steps toward you, ditching his joint by throwing the remains of it to the floor.

he keeps walking towards you until you’re just a foot apart. he grabs your hand, pulling you to him and shifting your bodies so your lower back rested the black metal railing of the balcony as he stood directly in front of you.

his face was inches from yours. you could so easily lift your head and kiss him.

“come back to my apartment with me.” he whispered.

“why would i do that?” you replied, feeling the pace of your breath quicken due to the close proximity.

“because you miss me.” the corner of his mouth upturned into a cocky smirk. “and i miss you.”

you were speechless. all you could do was stare into his eyes, trying to decipher whether or not those words had actually just left his mouth.

you swallow harshly before speaking, “i’m here with someone else, hamzah. i’m going home with him.”

you try to stand your ground, but god you wanted to give in.

he scrunches his nose and shakes his head as he places his hands on the metal railing behind you, trapping you between his arms.

“but he doesn’t know you like i do.”

before you can respond, you feel his fingers brush your hair away from the side of your neck.

he places his hands on waist as his head falls to your neck, his plump lips hovering above your skin. your head instinctively leans to the side, giving him full access.

“does he know how much you like being kissed right here?” he whispers softly, feeling his lips move on your skin as he speaks.

he presses his lips to place where your neck and shoulder meet, remembering how much this spot had an effect on you.

you shut your eyes in utter satisfaction. you hated how much of an effect he had on you.

you bring your hands to his neck, then weaving your fingers through his curls as he continues kissing, sucking, and nipping at the sweet spots on your neck.

his hands float down, gripping onto your hips- another minuscule touch that he knew drove you crazy.

with his hands on your hips, he pulls your bodies closer. suddenly, the thought of matthew has completely vanished. you’re completely caught up in hamzah, and it felt so good- indulging in his recognizable scent and familiar touch.

you let out a soft moan as his hand falls to your ass, grabbing it shamelessly.

“hamzah, hamzah— i can’t, we can’t do this.” you say breathlessly, using your hand to tap on his chest.

hamzah steps back, his breath unsteady as watches you carefully, his gaze lingering on your lips. for a moment, you think he isn’t going to say anything— that he was just going to turn around and walk away.

but then he leans, his voice low “meet me outside in five.” his tone carrying both a question and a promise.

you feel a rush of nerves as he walks away, opening the sliding glass door and slipping back into the crowd.

you stay out there for a moment, catching your breath.

you shouldn’t go. you know you shouldn’t.

but you couldn’t stop thinking about the way he looked at you.

a/n: yuppppp part two coming very very soon and it’s gonna pick up right where this leaves off. sorry if this is long and boring, tbh i just needed something to distract myself from everything going on lol…k bye muah

[inkbagel]

This collab I joined like eight months ago that I didn’t really enjoy being in finally got posted today but for some reason only on twitter and I don’t go there so I can’t even see the whole thing :/

[cadaver-moss]

Relax l*berals, it’s called dark humor…

Drew this the day I was supposed to get my blood test, which ended up getting rescheduled. Not sure when it’s supposed to happen now.

[unreadpoppy]

Saw a video and it got me in a mood so i'm making this post.

I don't think people who have never been fat knows how fucking hard it is to find clothing for bigger bodies.

The first issue is finding stuff in your actual size. Because time after time after time and time again I've gone to a store and they only had small and medium sizes. Not even large. And this was not for a few clothes, no. It was for MOST clothes that I found interesting. And then the ones that were marked as large were simply not big enough.

And I know that the reason for that is that brands simply won't make clothes for fat people. It's that because it surely isn't because the large size is selling out fast. They just don't do it. And some people have the nerve to say 'well brands are not obligated to make sizes for everyone' yeah sure, but also, I can't walk naked on the street can I?

Like I don't get it. 'oh but we want our clothes to fit a especific body' so fucking make clothes that are supposed to fit bigger bodies. Doesn't have a to be a whole ass collection.

And then we get on the second problem which is making clothes for plus size people that are ugly as hell. It's always the same stuff: ugly florals, animal print that belongs in another decade, cold shoulders, that weird extra fabric at the end of a shirt to hide the belly, or just black/muted colors.

Like fun fact. If you have big boobs, the hardest thing in the world is trying to find a bra that comes in a color that isn't white, black or beige. Because trust me, I've spent 3 hours walking in the shopping mall and I couldn't find anything that fit my breasts that was like pink (and in that situation I needed a pink bra for a play).

It feels like most clothes made for plus sized people are designed with like 50+ year old white women in mind, and not even that demographic of people are wearing those clothes (my mom is a plus sized 50+ year old white woman and often talks about how ugly some clothes made for people her size are).

It's hard trying to develop your own sense of style when none of the clothes around you are in your size, and when they do, they are just not good looking to you.

But you wanna know what's the down right worst part? Do you know what fucking brand has clothes that look good and are amde for bigger bodies?

The goddamn cancer on this earth that is Shein.

I fucking hate shein. Fast fashion is killin the fashion industry, they literally have people working as slaves and many influecers buy shein clothes by the bulk only to then throw it in the trash. Shein is awful.

But. Unfortunetly, shein is the only place that I found that had clothes that fit me and looked good. I don't like that. I avoided buying from shein for the longest time ever, but jesus christ, when you can't find clothes anywhere else you get desperate.

I tried looking for other places. I tried looking at my local clothing stores and everything was too small for me. I tried looking at online small bussinesses but they either didn't make my size, or it was sold out, or the prices were very high. Tried looking at thrift stores, also didn't find my size.

I try not to buy too much from shein or to spend long periods of time in between buying, because again, I feel bad about buying there. I don't want to buy from there.

Clothing brands/stores gotta do better. And I don't think that's asking for too much.

[voulezloux]

.

[milkteawithrusk]

you're making me wish you'd stop talking to me bc i don't think you have anything to say to me about anything except my academics. i can't even breath in your presence without you going on about how i should be learning

[phagodyke]

everyone say thank u to my roommate for going to visit her parents this weekend so I can jack it loud and nasty 🙏

[kerorowhump]

[mrfoox]

.... I feel bad bc my friend is sad ) :

[astrxealis]

comin in ere just rq to say tldr (final. real.) fuuta !! i want him to be voted innocent/forgiven bcs i hope he can. make peace with himself. i think he's truly a good guy at heart even if that doesn't excuse all that he did (i think he's. some sort of victim too and he deserved better. by this i mean like w his friends?? some sort of pressure and all. also the fact all the blame got put onto him which sucks but also with context, if that context is right, is rather deserved ngl. also i'm worried if he gets voted guilty bcs something bad will def happen)

[selenoplexia]

logging back in just bc this is my only private diary

[preserve-or-raze]

my tags got out of hand

i keep thinking about hobbies and how i often spill over myself to pick up new ones. i have adhd, i end up trying something for like a month and then just getting far enough in it that i move on, satisfied.

and that should be fine; but it's never fine.

i am a pretty decent artist; but i can't just make art for my dnd campaign, i should be selling dnd maps and character designs and scene setting pieces. i can't just make my friends matching earrings, i need to get an etsy and ship them internationally and take bulk orders. i make pretty good props and decorations and use them to throw my friends parties - but i should be running a party planning business and start taking paying clients and networking and putting my skills to actual use.

for some reason, i never figured out the specifics of pottery. it was a fun class and i enjoyed myself - and still, i'm embarrassed, years later, that i put in all that useless effort. everything i make has to be stunning. stellar. i should have applied myself more. maybe i'm too lazy. maybe i'm broken and selfish and needy. actually creative people would have kept going; they would be bettering themselves at every possible opportunity.

we find ourselves in this trap, even accidentally: we need to commodify our time, because it is a commodity. if we spend our efforts and our time not earning, isn't that the same thing as burning free money? and god forbid you ever take up a hobby that ends up being more expensive than you thought. you sit in your car and you look at the receipt and in your head you hear a conversation that isn't even happening - your mom or your friend or your partner all saying oh great. not this shit again. it's always something with you, and it never actually means anything.

i have realized this horrible thing, recently - i'll get excited to start a project, pick up a new hobby. and then i just... stop myself. i start thinking about the amount of time it will take, and how it'll look in my monthly budget. what if i can't even produce a good enough final product. sure, it's exciting to think about how i could make my friend her own custom dice. but i'm just polluting the earth if i don't get it right. better not bother. better not try.

restless, i get caught in the negative space. the feeling that oh god, i want to create. and that horrible sense - yeah, but i don't have the time to just put to waste.

[ame-to-ame]

the thing abt btr is i really wanna see more characterization/ ixn but i don't think anything i write will be able to capture the essence of the source material :(

[scorpiontattoo]

sitting here fingers fuckin crossed that our mom is srs abt letting us apply to a paid internship over the summer at the place she works bc that money is very sexy step closer to getting away from her. also sorry fuck ton of venting in the tags.

[everybodysaycbx]

.

[deosilplanarglitches]

Reason #345734 why I don't tell my mom shit.

Her pain and suffering is the only kind she cares about, and she'll play stupid games with me like ghost me for 3+ weeks after a minor surgery, just to make sure I'm worried enough about her life to check, so she "has permission" to start in with the talking my ear off about her problems without boundaries or preamble. She won't know shit about my issues til after they're over (if she hears about them at all) bc she never asks a damn thing about my life, and literally only ever leaves room for herself and her feelings in any equation literally ever and then peaces tf out like. Bitch I'm permanently disabled and in a degenerative spiral that's gonna last my whole fkn life, and you're still bitching about yourself? Wanting me to cater to your emotions when you haven't even spared a CRUMB of consideration in return?

FUck all the way off.

Should have known that if she had died or sth bad happened, I'd have heard something right away. After 30+ yrs of her pulling the "yeah my kid tried to kill themself for the 7th time, but have you asked ME how hard it is to raise them doing the nothing I have been, bc I still don't know them as a person at all or even try to? Where's the compassion?!" shit... you'd think I would know better, but my compassion gets me fucked over YET AGAIN.

If she's being flighty, she's being petty. If she's being flighty, she's being petty. If she's being flighty, she's being petty. If she's being flighty, she's being petty. If she's being flighty, she's being petty. If she's being flighty, she's being petty. If she's being flighty, she's being petty. If she's being flighty, she's being petty. If she's being flighty, she's being petty. If she's being flighty, she's being petty. If she's being flighty, she's being petty. If she's being flighty, she's being petty. If she's being flighty, she's being petty.

Back to no contact.

Let the bitch suffocate if she can't self soothe.