#bitch idk

[mentallylivingin2000s]

[somelostrefrain]

guys how many aura points did i lose when i was doing an audition (in front of like six people) and my voice cracked at the end note

[jelicoxoxo]

“I dont know if I’ma see you again.”

Bachira Meguru x fem!reader

desc: Bachira was never really interested in flowers, his only experience with them being picking up colorful weeds in the grass to give to his mother as a kid. But ever since he developed a little crush on a florist on his way to and from school, he’s been learning about them more and more.

warnings: fem!reader, florist!reader, slight angst to fluff, mostly fluff tbh.

a/n: lawd i havent posted an actual fic in FOREVVEERRRR. But here y’all go LOL🫶🏽

Bachira never really enjoyed school. The waking up early in the morning, sitting at a desk cramming information into his head for hours, the what feels like endless amounts of homework. Not like he struggled to bad in school or anything, his grades where pretty average, for someone known to sleep in class and didn’t ever study that is. All he wanted to do was play soccer after school, get home to his mom, eat, sleep, and maybe play video games. he didn’t really care for anything else.

That is, until you came along.

All you did was give him a silly little sunflower when you saw him on his way home from school. You where both just hitting double digits at the time, he found it cute how you approached him, eyes full of uncertainty as you handed him the flower that was almost as big as your head.

You said something like “I’m working on my social anxiety” or something, he didn’t remember clearly, he was barely even listening, to stuck on why this girl approached him of all people. He didn’t have many friends, nor many people that wanted to be his friend anyway, so he found himself clinging to this act of kindness. He started taking that same route to and from school, ignoring any shortcuts he found just so he could see you again every day, accepting flowers from you and bringing them home to his mom.

His mother was ecstatic when she found out about you, finding it adorable how Meguru’s crush was so obvious before he even recognized what his own feelings where. He just guessed that he really wanted to be your friend, and that you must have wanted to be his as well. Why else would you have chosen him to gift a flower to? That was his mindset when he was younger at least.

Bachira learned that the flower shop behind you belonged to your family, and that it was going to belong to you someday. He started spending more and more time talking to you, to the point where your family knew him as well, greeting him when you weren’t there that day and informing him of your whereabouts(snitches).

It even got to the point where he brought you home to his mom—with your parent’s permission, promising to bring you back before sunset. His mom almost had a stroke when he walked through the door with you, not expecting visitors that day.

She adored you btw. Sent you home with a basket of fruits, cheese, and other snacks.

Even as teenagers, y’all where practically inseparable. As soon as your schedules where clear, you where right underneath each other. Wherever one went, the other was sure to be nearby. You didn’t know a thing about soccer until Meguru, and he didn’t know a thing about flowers until you. There where also a lot of stupid things you two did just fucking around and finding out, his personality rubbing off on you a lot.

But this all seemed to have come to an end when he started the blue lock program, losing contact with him for quite some time. You didn’t know when he’d be back, why he had to go, why he couldn’t at least text you back, so eventually you just gave up.

You couldn’t stand it, who knew him being gone would make such a drastic change in your daily routine. You had no “good morning!” texts to brighten your mood in the mornings, no random weird updates about his day(ex; “I just had explosive diarrhea”), no one to scream Megan Thee Stallion songs with, no one to listen to your endless rambling about meaningless things that meant a lot to you, so it meant a lot to him as well.

And most of all, who knew him being gone would create such a pit in your heart. You didn’t understand, who cares if he’s gone? It’s just a boy, so what if you didn’t talk again? But why did the thought only deepen that pit all the way to your stomach? You hated it, you hated every bit of it. You hated how he left with no goodbye, how he never texted you or picked up any of your calls, how even when you asked his mother about him she only knew so much, how he was gone so long, how you still cared. Why did you still care?

Because you loved that boy and you hated that. You hated how the thought of him still brought butterflies to your stomach, hated how you still remembered his habits, how you could still see the dried flower petals he kept in jars in his room from when you gave him a personalized bouquet every birthday.

You where so upset about him being gone, and yet you couldn’t even bring yourself to say “I hate him”, because you knew it just wouldn’t be true.

Especially when here that same boy stood, at your doorstep soaked head to toe from running in the rain. He was panting like a dog, eyes wide as he stared at you in silence. Neither of you knew what to say, to shocked to see each other again that all you could do was stare.

And despite all that hatred, you still where so glad to see him again. You where so glad to hear his apology and explanation, to have him in your room again, to have his heart again, to hear his confession that night, him practicing begging you to forgive him and be his one and only. He never meant to hurt you, and he realized in the time that he was gone that he just couldn’t be without you, collecting however many points it took to get a day out of blue lock to see you again.

And most of all, you where glad to have your Meguru back.

———

~ Jelicoxoxo

[ohhcrazybananabro]

Man idk how i should start this. Idfk. Ngl i dont fucking care about proshippers. Like man i know it’s not illegal or bad or anything tbh im just a bitch and i fuck with people but it aint funny to me anymore. So yea, Just keep ya shit in fiction and im cool. Sorry for the harassment and slurs tho that wasnt cool on my part, Block me if youd like. Have a nice day 🤷‍♂️

[brokenmariko]

first post im shaking

[dakota4]

The moral of the story is that you realize at the end of the fucking day, you really have no fucking friends because the people you call your friends are okay with having fun without you.

But at this stage, I really don’t fucking care no more.

[dreamsgalaxyfreckles]

i still havent finished drawing the other thing ive been working on so have a quick sketch

[eatmybuttcheekz]

HIIII

Fuckk y'all

[inkskinned]

she's singing in another room and my dog is asleep at my feet. my grandma asked me why i haven't found a man yet and i laughed. oh, you know. i like my house clean.

my girlfriend is also my man is also "my partner" if i'm in a professional setting. yesterday we went to a ren faire and a man mimed at me - you're together? and at my delighted nod, his baffled, you're gay? made me laugh. a woman with rainbow hair said i love the two of you together. you're both so beautiful it's absurd.

my dad introduced my partner as my "..... friend. or whatever" the other day. he knows we're dating. in the same way, i was never able to get my sister's husband to stop saying that's gay like it's 2008. he still uses the word fa***t, and my sister's defense of him has always been well, he's just kidding.

my lover and i dance to old music in a tiny kitchen. we judge new music together and take food critique very seriously. we watch love is blind before we fall asleep and agree that if they had a queer season, it would be bloody but also make for excellent tv. of fucking course queer people would know someone for only 2 weeks and agree to get married. what are you saying.

at a bar with friends, a man puts his hand on my wrist. got a boyfriend? and yes, i do have a boyfriend, she's amazing. i am texting her while i wander around a gas station named after geese. i am visiting a swing state for a wedding. in the candy aisle i overhear: she's actually like a lesbian it's disgusting. two teenage girls with packaged sandwiches in their hands, giggling. no literally, like. i'm not, like. okay with her being there while we're all, like, naked and changing.

my girlfriend and i tailgate, drink gin and cider out of cups. from the frat group beside us, a man corrects himself with one of his friends: bro, i mean, nonbinary entity, and it makes everyone around him laugh, myself included. he razzes his friend the same way i would have killed for at 19 years old - like nothing happened, he continues: you apply sunscreen like an alien. he does a little sassy (and fairly accurate) dance interpretation of the motion. his friend is laughing so hard they're crying.

i am lucky, i live in a safe neighborhood in a safe state. my masc passenger princess comes up from DC. i drive her for an hour to where all the leaves are a violent arrangement of color. we walk along the trails, letting autumn into our blood. in this part of the state, there's a lot of pickup trucks and trump signs. when we chastely kiss before getting into the car, i accidentally make eye contact with a woman holding her child's wrist. she looks disgusted. she looks fucking pissed.

two hours later my girl and i are eating dinner on a patio, soaking in the last warmth of new england sun before the chill of winter sets in. we are giggling and trying to talk through plastic vampire teeth. at another table, i see a young woman sit up straighter. i watch her watch us. she blushes and takes her partner's hand from across the table. shy, like the taste of evening has just become something deeper.

it's worth it for this moment, i think. my lover is still humming the same song she's been singing for four days straight and i don't want to kill her for it. her guitar is beside my bed. her toothbrush is in my bathroom. in a few moments i will make us lunch. we are lucky enough to have found each other. it is lucky enough to be in love.

[real-sherlock-holmes]

yes i like car rules and road codes. No I don’t know the first thing about cars. Stop asking me.

[baker-chan-senpai]

dumb doodles

merry christmas, people

[edlucavalden]

Hm… it seems that they have something in common?

[BONUS]

Also, where did Mithrun’s monster knowledge come from..?

[choodraws]

🍎🍊🍐 (crops from the past 3 months of patreon exclusives)

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[biggest-gaudiest-patronuses]

main take aways from Halloween (1978) rewatch:

michael myers is canonically 21??? this bitch should be at the club

*sees tiddies* ***MURDEROUS RAMPAGE NOISES***

that's it that's the movie

outside of the fact that everyone who has sex is murdered by the narrative, this is a surprisingly chill portrayal of female sexuality? these teen girls are horny and actively enjoying Getting It On with their boytoys. no pushy boyfriends sneaking in through their bedroom windows--these ladies are taking the initiative to sneak out and GET SOME. one of them gets laid and then immediately orders her boyfriend to get her a beer. (yes she gets Slashered soon afterward, but so does the boyfriend so honestly, gender equality.) yes the Final Girl is the only one not having sex, but she's not bullied for that, nor are her friends slut shamed except possibly by being murdered by the narrative

actually the only character who is shown being morally condemned on-screen is michael myers. specifically FOR his violent overreaction to other people's sex lives. (people he is spying on). metaphorically, the villain is American Puritanism sticking its judgy nose into other people's business.

aka Michael Myers Is A Republican

but actually the real villain is the doctor. guy's a judgemental, shaming, pathologizing asshole. and he's been in charge of michael's care since he was SIX YEARS OLD? kid never had a chance. i'd go on a killing spree too

also the parents. where are the parents? it's halloween night and all the teenage girls are home babysitting their younger siblings? come to think of it, michael's first victim was his own older sister, whom he killed while she was babysitting him. teen girls are really shouldering a labour burden here. maybe parentification is the true villain

side note: mike commits his first murder wearing a clown costume...which is never referenced again? his 'iconic' costume is a generic mask and wig and jumpsuit, when we coulda had a Killer Clown Michael Myers??? travesty

i like how the Final Girl and her friend casually smoke weed in her car. yeah she's an honor student and her friend is the sheriff's daughter. yeah they smoke weed. so what it's 1978

(to reiterate, mike is 21 and should be at the club. im not saying he shouldn't be rampaging, im saying it's sad that he broke out, tasted freedom for the first time in his life, and immediately snuck back into his childhood home to go rampaging. let's have a remake where he goes to a nightclub and has a few beers. maybe some slutty dancing. then rampage)

oh no he's hot

[aammtteiu]

[rafesweetie]

need a jealous bsf!rafe x reader where he is possessive and doesn’t want other guys touching her even though he touches other girls, so she is basically over it and at a party, she dances on another guy and he gets mad

౨ৎ in which bsf!rafe just can’t help wanting to protect you.

you were done with rafe cameron. you’ve decided it. he was your best friend, sure, but he was controlling, mean, overly protective, and he acted like he owned you or something. so you were completely done with him, forever.

this is the third time you’ve promised yourself that, and news flash — you never dropped him.

it wasn’t your fault, you try to tell yourself every time. he just wouldn’t let you leave him, shutting you up whenever you’d even try and be reasonable with him, yelling louder than you or slamming his palm over your mouth. but a little part of you knows that you like the attention. you like that rafe cares so much about you, even if it does ruin your chances of getting a boyfriend. today is the day that you break the pattern though, and rebel against his constant authority.

parties are where rafe thrives. he’s like a celebrity, it always wonders you how much people love him. during parties, he keeps less of an eye on you, assuming you’re just busy gossiping with your friends. but little does he know, you’ve found a boy — it wasn’t often you’d get the opportunity to chat with a boy that wasn’t rafe, and you were loving every second of it. you felt so free from your friend’s gaze, listening to the boy talk, his deep voice vibrating your brain.

but the issue was, the boy was boring. he didn’t talk about cool things, like dirtbikes or his life or death adventures or money. you hated to say it, but he just wasn’t rafe. your mind kept flashing back to him, how much more you smile and enjoy his company. maybe rafe was right. you just didn’t need boys when you have him.

you’re so close to excusing yourself from the boy, going back to rafe’s arm and giggling with him and talking with your faces really close together. you glance back to where he is, ready to retreat, until you see it. you see her.

you’re not sure who she is, but she bothers you. her hair is so gorgeous and healthy, and you can’t see her face from behind but she must be gorgeous. her arm is on rafe’s bicep — your bicep, the one you always hang onto while you’re walking with rafe. you hate that you’re jealous. rafe’s your friend, not your boyfriend, you have no reason to be. but it’s like you can’t control it, your rage, and before you know it, you’re blinking back any potential tears and touching on this boy — this stranger — like there’s no tomorrow. tyla is blasting through the speakers, and yours and these boy’s hands are all over each other’s bodies. you really hope rafe sees you like this, drunk off the smirnoff pink lemonades and enjoying another mans company.

it really doesn’t take long for him to notice. he’s so predictable. shrugging the girls hand off of him, rushing over to his dear friend to get her away from this lowlife.

usually he’d reason with you. coax you away from the boy nicely and lecture you. but he’d had a few beers and a line of coke and he was in no mood for politeness. a rough hand pushes the boy away by the chest, and rafe isn’t muttering a word to anyone, grabbing your wrist and stomping away with you stumbling behind.

he pushes you into a spare bedroom, the first private place he could find. sitting you on the edge of the bed, he starts pacing in front of you and rubbing his face as if this was hurting his head. it’s like your brain flicks a switch, back to “rafe rafe rafe” as you’re sat there with tears brimming your eyes, fiddling with your manicure as you bat your eyelashes up at him, remembering the girl flirting with him, and now you making him mad, and now he’s got you in a puddle of guilt.

“shit— it’s like, you never do what i say, huh?” he mutters, still pacing. “you know i do everything to protect you, kid. you even know who that fuckin’ guy was? no, m’sure you don’t, cause you don’t think. thought by now my voice would be in your pretty head, there to help you make some smart decisions every once in a while. but nah, nah, you see one other boy and it’s back to square one with you,”

you go to speak, glossy lips parting, but he shuts you up with a quick “no”, and stopping pacing to go kneel in front of you.

“everything i do — for you, okay? for you. my girl,” he often calls you that, it makes you weak every time. he grabs your hands. “stop fiddling, paid for this polish.” you stop instantly. “i know— i know you think that my protectiveness is, uh, stupid, but i need to be like this, or you’re gonna get hurt. i know you, baby. i need to be all over you for you to even have a slight awareness to not do stupid things. so i do take some ownership over you in that sense—“

you cut him off, muttering a, “don’t want you to take ownership.”

he huffs. “yeah, but i do, so…” he shrugs. “you’re mine. my friend, my girl. so i don’t like it when someone else touches my girl, or when you’re the one intiating it. makes me so fuckin’ angry, kid, makes me wanna, like—“ he cuts himself off. “so i need you to knock it off.”

you wanna argue so badly, but your brain turns to mush around him. so you sniffle and nod hesitantly.

“no, i want a ‘yes rafe.’ need your words.”

“i just think that—“ you try.

he cuts you off. “yes rafe. say it with me.”

“..yes, rafe.” you both say.

he squeezes your hands and gets up. “yeah, there you go, good girl. now do you, uh, need a minute, fix your makeup, or d’you wanna go back down there and hang out with me?”

your hand goes to his bicep as you stand up with him, and a ghost of a smile appears on his lips. “wanna go with you,” you say softly, leaning into him a bit.

“yeah, that’s what i thought.”