#but I said I thought I was paying for myself

[strangled-slytherin]

First Glance

Summary: Theo Nott catches sight of you for the first time. Pairing: Theo Nott x Reader Word Count: 582 Trigger Warnings: None

The first time I saw her, it felt like the world had shifted. I’d been leaning against the wall in the courtyard, a casual observer, half-listening to Draco drone on about some Quidditch match, when she appeared. It wasn’t as though she burst into the scene dramatically or did something to command attention. No, it was subtler than that. She just walked into my line of sight, and suddenly, nothing else existed.

Her hair caught the sunlight just right, casting a soft glow around her face as she laughed at something her friend had said. That sound, her laughter—it cut through the usual noise of Hogwarts like a blade. My chest tightened as I watched her, unaware if it was her laughter or the way her eyes sparkled that caught me first. There was something different about her, something magnetic. She wasn’t loud or attention-seeking, yet she had this way of existing that made everything else seem less important.

I knew who she was, of course. Everyone did. But this was the first time I really saw her. The curve of her lips, the way her hand tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear absentmindedly, the way she held herself—confident but not showy. I couldn’t explain why, but something in me shifted.

"Are you listening, Theo?" Draco’s voice snapped me back, but my eyes were still on her, following her movements as she walked past. She hadn’t even noticed me, not really. But I noticed her. And that was the beginning.

Suddenly, I found myself wanting to be in the places she was, wanting to know what made her laugh like that, wanting her to notice me in return. It was an odd sensation for someone who’d always prided himself on being indifferent to most things. But not to her. Not anymore.

As she moved farther away, I felt this strange pull, like an invisible thread connecting us even though she hadn't even glanced my way. I told myself it was nothing. Just curiosity, something fleeting, but the way my chest tightened said otherwise.

For the rest of the day, I caught myself looking for her—between classes, in the Great Hall, even when I was supposed to be paying attention during Potions. It was maddening. I didn’t know why she had this effect on me, and it irritated me to no end. I wasn’t the kind of person who got swept up in this kind of thing. But with her… it felt different.

Later, I saw her again, sitting alone in the library, surrounded by books. Her brow furrowed in concentration as she scribbled something in the margins of her notes. For a moment, I just watched her, unnoticed. The way she chewed on the end of her quill when she was thinking, the way she’d pause to push a loose curl out of her face—it was all so painfully ordinary, yet completely captivating.

I moved toward her, my steps slow, uncertain, my usual confidence betraying me for the first time in years. What was I even doing? She hadn’t noticed me yet, and I could have just walked away. Pretended I wasn’t suddenly consumed by thoughts of her.

But then she looked up. Her eyes met mine, and for a split second, the world stopped. There was a flicker of recognition in her gaze, but nothing more. She didn’t know me, not really. Just another Slytherin, just another boy in a sea of faces. Yet, as her gaze lingered on mine for a moment longer than necessary, I felt something stir deep within me.

I nodded, casual, cool—at least, I hoped it looked that way—and walked past her, every muscle in my body screaming at me to stay, to say something. But I didn’t. I just kept walking, heart pounding in my chest like I’d just flown a hundred miles on a broomstick.

As I turned the corner, I glanced back, just for a moment. She was back to her books, oblivious to the fact that she had just completely and utterly upended my world.

[poisonlove]

The "Ghost" of halloween | A.D

Pairing: Astrid deetz X reader

Astrid pov's

I increase my pedaling speed, the wind tangling my hair. I was tired of arguing with my mother, tired of being teased for being a Deetz. Why did my mother have to be the crazy woman who believed she could talk to ghosts, see ghosts? And most of all, why did she have to do it on television, where millions of people could witness the spectacle?

I didn’t believe in my mother’s abilities in the slightest, especially because, according to her, she couldn’t even contact my father.

The only person who truly understood me, the only person who, with his quirks, had passed on to me his love for horror, the one person I desperately wanted to see again in my miserable life.

The one person I would never see again. Starting today, my grandfather too.

I clenched my jaw, trying to mask my mood, and kept pedaling. My hands gripped the bike's handlebars tightly as I moved my legs faster, my gaze drifting over the decorations for tomorrow's upcoming Halloween celebration.

My mother’s wedding to her stupid fiancé.

I sighed loudly. My mother had ruined my favorite holiday. I pushed that thought aside and focused on the decorations: skeletons hanging here and there, cobwebs, pumpkins, and strange monsters in the yards. Children strolled along the streets, showing off their spooky costumes.

A small smile formed on my lips.

The sound of a car horn jerked me out of my thoughts, and when I turned my head, I saw a black Jeep coming dangerously close in my direction. My eyes widened, and I instinctively turned the handlebars toward the sidewalk, narrowly avoiding the car.

"Watch out!" yelled a man I almost hit.

My grip on the handlebars became iron-tight, and with all the fear and adrenaline in the world, I tried to dodge the pedestrians, earning a few insults for my reckless riding. My eyes widened further, and my breathing grew rapid with each passing second.

The bike had picked up speed, and I had completely lost control. I closed my eyes as I saw a fence rushing into my path, bracing myself for the impact. The sound of wood splintering echoed in my ears, and the sudden slope caused me to lose balance, crashing into a tree and tumbling to the ground.

A giggle made me look up.

Groaning in pain, I saw a girl looking at me with amusement from the treehouse I had just destroyed. I rubbed my head, trying to ease the pain.

"I'm sorry," I mumbled, embarrassed.

The girl’s eyes widened before she sat on the edge of the house, her y/c eyes watching me with curiosity and amusement.

"Are you okay?" she asked, a hint of amusement in her voice.

"Yeah, sorry about the fence. My family will pay for the damages," I said, my cheeks flushing with embarrassment.

"Oh, don’t worry about it," the girl waved her hand dismissively, and I smiled shyly, brushing a strand of hair out of my face.

"Where are you from? I’ve never seen you around here, and I’d remember someone as cute as you," she asked kindly, her voice dripping with curiosity.

"Uhmm... from there," I admitted shyly, pointing to the large house visible on the hill. My cheeks reddened at her compliment. She thinks I’m cute.

Her eyes followed my gesture toward the house, and she smiled faintly.

“The haunted house?" she asked with a teasing tone, and I huffed at her playful jab.

"Let’s just drop it. Sorry about the fence, see you around," I muttered, annoyed.

I had thought I’d finally met someone interesting, someone different from the bullies who teased me at school every day. She was probably one of them, and I didn’t even recognize her.

"Hey, I’m sorry, don’t leave," she quickly murmured.

I glanced back at the girl sitting on the treehouse planks, her y/c eyes looking at me with guilt.

Maybe she wasn’t trying to mock me. She gave me a small apologetic smile, and I blushed violently, once again brushing my hair from my face.

She’s really cute.

The anger faded quickly.

"I didn’t mean to offend you," she confessed, and I nodded in understanding. "Do you want to come up?" she offered timidly, and my heart skipped a beat at her proposal.

"Sure," I replied, feeling nervous.

I walked over to the tree and climbed up the ladder quickly, arriving on the wooden planks that led to the small house. The girl had moved aside and was watching me, her hands in her pockets, her eyes tracing my figure. She wore an oversized hoodie, jeans that fit her perfectly, and white Adidas sneakers.

"So… have you ever seen any ghosts?" she asked playfully, leading me inside the house.

"I haven’t, but my mother has," I confessed awkwardly.

My eyes wandered curiously over the surroundings: several music posters from the '90s proudly hung on the walls. I sat down next to her, surrounded by cushions.

"And you don’t believe in them?" she asked timidly.

I shook my head.

"Honestly, I think it’s all crap," I admitted with a small smile, my eyes meeting hers in amusement.

The girl smiled and tilted her head to the side, her long y/c hair gracefully falling over her shoulders.

My heart skipped a beat.

"I believe in them," she said shyly, pulling her knees up to her chest. She rested her chin on them and looked at me with a playful gleam in her eyes.

"Then I guess you must like my mother’s show," I said bitterly.

The girl tilted her head in confusion.

"What show?" she asked timidly.

"You don’t know my mom’s show? Lydia Deetz?" I asked, surprised.

Maybe she was the first person in this awful town who didn’t know about my mother’s show. Was I relieved or not?

"You’re a Deetz?" she asked, surprised, her eyes widening comically.

"Yes, I’m Astrid Deetz," I said with a half-laugh.

The situation was pretty amusing.

"Oh wow, I’ve heard about you," she said calmly, a playful smile on her lips.

"Yeah?" I asked curiously.

"Yeah, I… I mean, my mom told me what happened back then," she muttered quickly, and I giggled at the panicked look on her face.

Her expression relaxed when she saw me laugh.

"Anyway… tomorrow is Halloween," she said with a small smile.

At the mention of tomorrow's holiday, the thought of my mother’s wedding popped into my mind, making me grimace in disgust.

"You don’t like Halloween?" she asked playfully, probably noticing my expression.

"It’s my favorite holiday," I admitted with a bitter smile.

"Mm-hmm… it didn’t seem like it from the face you made," she said, glancing at me from the corner of her eye.

"My mom is getting married to her fiancé," I grimaced in disgust.

"Oh… I guess your dad’s not too happy about that," she muttered to herself.

A sharp pain hit my chest at the mention of my dad, and the girl, probably noticing my reaction, shifted closer to me.

"My dad died years ago," I confessed, a tear threatening to escape.

The girl looked at me with sadness.

"I’m sorry," her y/c eyes looked at me with compassion, and for a moment, she raised her hand as if to offer me a comforting touch, but she quickly pulled it back.

"Don’t worry… Halloween used to be my favorite because of him. He’d go all out making my costumes," I smiled softly at the memory.

The countless laughs and moments spent together, preparing and trying to match our costumes, flashed through my mind, making me smile nostalgically.

"You have a beautiful smile… you should show it more," the girl mumbled softly, and I glanced at her from the corner of my eye, blushing at her words. I bit my lower lip and looked at her in amusement.

"Thanks," I replied quietly, embarrassed.

"By the way, I’m Y/n," the girl said shyly, watching me with amusement.

I nodded at her words and turned my attention to the view outside: the sky was tinged with orange, signaling the arrival of evening.

"I have to go, it’s getting late," I quickly murmured, standing up.

Even though I was having fun spending time with this girl, I didn’t want to worry or argue with my mother again. I climbed down the ladder and walked toward my bike, picking it up.

I glanced up at the girl.

"See you tomorrow?" I asked, a smile spreading across my face as I mounted my bike.

"Is that a date?" she asked playfully, leaning against the tree. I blushed at her words, my heart pounding wildly in my chest.

I nodded.

"It was a pleasure, Astrid," the girl smiled sweetly at me.

"The pleasure was mine, Y/n," I smiled back.

I can’t wait for tomorrow.

A/n: I hope you like it ;)

[bigification]

Handlebars

Day 1:

My first day of college was a lot more stressful than I thought it would be. I finally made it to residence last night, which only gave me one night to get settled before classes started. I was nervous to meet my roommate because of all of the horror stories I had heard about them in the past, but it ended up being so much worse than I expected. In my mind, the worst outcome was some lazy douche who never cleaned up after himself. So you can imagine my shock when I knock on the door and a full grown 30 something year old man answers the door.

"Hey, buddy. The names Mike, come on in."

He looked and sounded like a jock in a college movie, but when the actor is actually 30. His voice was deep and buttery, it almost gave me butterflies. I just smiled awkwardly and walked past him through the door.

"I'm Oscar by the way." I introduced myself.

"Cool, I'll just call you Handlebars." He said, without a care in the world.

He sat down on his bed, and that was the extent of our interactions for the day.

Day 7:

It's been a week and all my other worries about roommates came true. Not only is he 15 years older than me, he's a slob. He gets home from the gym drenched in sweat and throws his gym clothes wherever without cleaning them. He doesn't do his dishes, or any chore for that matter. In fact it seems like he intentionally keeps the place dirty after I try to clean it. And whatever musky cologne he wears attacks my nose every time I open the door, it feels like the smell seeps into everything, including my clothes.

The few times that he actually wants a chore to be done, he just asks me to do it, or rather he just tells me to do it. Normally I would be happy to tell him to go fuck himself, but I always find myself doing whatever he asks. I hate it.

"Yo Handlebars, be a doll and clean the dishes for me."

"Yo Handlebars, I ran out of clean gym clothes, mind running em down to the laundry for me."

It's like he's casting a spell whenever he talks.

Day 15:

I've started to settle into routine. The things that used to bother me about Mike seem a bit more trivial now. We've even started to become pretty close. I get enthralled by his conversations about business. He goes on and on about his father's enterprises, and how they'll be his soon.

I even started going to the gym with him lately. He lent me some of his gym clothes, even if they're way too big. It just made me appreciate him more. I never really clocked how jacked he was, sometimes he goes to the gym shirtless and it shows off his massive pecs and thick biceps.

Since joining him, I've noticed my body has improved quite significantly. I used to be skinny and lanky, but there is definition starting to show throughout my body.

Day 30:

Just a month into school and I was already on my way to failing out. I just don't care about it anymore, but Mike gave me a solution. He said I could just switch programs and do business with him, and his dad would even pay for it. How could I pass that up.

Now that I've switched, it's like all stress in my life has disappeared. Business is so easy, and now I have more time with Mike. We usually have a routine of going to the gym after our last class of the day.

"Yo Handlebars, you're lookin strong man. I'd kill to grow as fast as you."

He shouted at me from across the gym, when he caught me staring at myself in the mirror. Butterflies flew through my stomach when he said that. And he wasn't wrong, I've been noticing a lot of changes in my body. My face has matured, my eyebrows are thicker, my nose is bigger, and my jawline is more square. I even have to shave now, when I never had to before college. A five o'clock shadow engulfs my face by the end of the day, especially above my lip. The rest of my body has gotten hairier too, especially around my pecs, arms, and legs. And that's not even mentioning my progress at the gym. I actually look like I belong there, my biceps have a nice roundness to them and my chest actually sticks out from my body. Those gym clothes that Mike gave me look smaller and smaller every day.

Life in the dorms has also been a dream. I've been wearing that cologne that Mike loves, and it's like I unlocked a whole new level of confidence. People seem to love listening to me talk, and people seem to respect me more.

Day 60:

This past month has been the best month of my life. Now that I'm in my mid twenties, I can drink whenever I want. Mike and I go out raves and frat parties basically every night, my body is basically used to every drug at this point. And with Mike's dad paying for college, I literally don't need to show up to lectures and I get straight A's.

"Fuck, bro. I think you're bigger than me Handlebars."

Mike said with a shocked face when we were snapping pics at the gym. We flexed beside each other, and it was obvious. My biceps dwarfed his, and his gym clothes had become really tight on me lately. The shirt was skin tight against my upper body, showing off my juicy pecs and my growing six pack. And the shorts looked like they were about to burst under the pressure of my ass cheeks and thighs, to the point that the outline of my dick was constantly visible.

"Here bro, take this."

Mike handed me a package. It was filled with gym clothes and jocks.

"Just for you Handlebars."

I yanked him in for a bro hug, I could feel myself blushing.

"You got this all for me bro?"

"Fuck yeah, man. You've been grinding it out in the gym, don't think I haven't noticed my clothes straining against those muscles. And you need something to contain that snake in your pants before we get campus security called on us."

Mike chuckled, his laugh was infectious.

Day 100:

I started in the mirror. Sometimes I barely recognize myself. The confident and cocky mask goes away when I'm alone, just leaving the caring gym bro that's on the true inside.

Damn, I think to myself, Mike is making me too sappy. I give myself a cocky smile after shaving my face, leaving me with a thick moustache. I flex, admiring my guns and bouncing my pecs. Man I look good for a man pushing his thirties.

"Fuck, handlebars. Since when were you so hairy?" Mike asked me when I left the bathroom.

"What? Are you jealous I'm manlier than you bro?" I taunted him by opening my button up wider, revealing the thick pelt of hair that covered my body.

"Nah, it's got me feelin something tho." He smirked at me.

"Hah, I fuckin knew it. You want a piece of this." I bounced my pecs.

"Don't make it gay bro, it's not like that. Just a dude admiring another dude." He blushed.

The tension between us had been building for weeks. He would stand too close when spotting me at the gym, and I'd catch him staring at me in the mirror. Not like I haven't been doin it too. We also wear less clothes around the dorm. I still got that jock strap Mike gave me a while back, I'd be lying to myself if I said it fit but I don't care, and it seems like Mike doesn't mind either. And sometimes I wear an open button up just cuz it makes my pecs pop.

Day 120:

"You have no idea how long I've waited for this." Mike whispered in my ear. His breath was heavy as he threw me against the wall. His dick was bouncing with excitement against my ass.

For context, a few hours ago we were at the gym like normal. At this point, we didn't even go to class, it was just gym and parties now. The tension had been growing at the gym forever, sometimes we'd release by foolin around in the showers, but it never went further a quick handjob when no one was lookin. It was different this time, he couldn't keep his hands off me. Broad daylight in a busy gym, his hands would be far down my shorts, teasing.

At first I was dismissive. We already got caught multiple times by campus security, so close to getting kicked out of school. If it wasn't for Mike's dad being a rich alumni, I think both of us would be long gone by now. But he knew how to push my buttons, he always has. I gave in, but had the decency to drag him by the collar to the showers. At least there we could be naked.

Ok, back to the point. I grunted as his thick arms held me in place. Mike had been working extra hard to catch up to me, and it was showin. It turned me on, feelin his muscled forearms against my shoulders. But I wasn't gonna let him win that easily. What Mike seemed to forget was the near decade I spent in the Navy before comin to college.

I whipped around, using the hot water against our skin to slip out from his pin. I pushed his shoulder, sending him tripping over my foot, which I had conveniently placed behind his. I caught him like a damsel in distress, so there was no doubt in his mind who was on top.

Within seconds, it's like my training kicked in and I had him pinned down on his stomach. The bristles of my thick mustache rubbed against the back of his ear as I whispered, "You really thought you could top me?" I asked with a chuckle.

He moaned like a twink when I stuck my cock up his ass. It took a moment for his ass to adjust to takin a beatin rather than dishin one out, but he'll get used to it. The wet fur on my forearm slid across his back as I rode him like a bull. I could almost feel his organs rearrangin to fit my 10 inch rod.

I groaned as I felt months of sexual tension release in seconds, shooting my seed all through Mike's body. He was mine. And by the looks of it, he enjoyed the ride too. A trail of his cum ran from under his pinned body, to the drain in the middle of the showers.

"You're mine."

I whispered in his ear with a shit eatin grin.

"Now clean this mess up before you dare come back to my dorm."

I pushed off his back to get to my feet. I continued rubbing my cock as I walked away, making ropes of cum cover the showers. I walked right out of the showers and into the locker room, making sure to wink at campus security on the way out. Someone always calls them, and we always get away with it Scott free, so I think they gave up. It just feels good to make people know they're beneath you, and to do it while rubbin one out.

I cleaned up and walked alone to my dorm, sat on my couch, and waited for Mike to come back. After a few minutes, he walked in without a word. He walked over to me and laid in my lap as I turned on football. I smelled his hair, making sure he actually cleaned up like I ordered.

"Good boy." I reassured him while massaging his pecs.

Day 150:

I finally moved our stuff out of my shitty dorm. Mikey's father just decided to pay for our diplomas outright, instead of trying to turn all of our F's into A's.

We moved to L.A. and I fuckin love it here. I just walk around in nothin but a jock, and people love me for it. And there are so many entrepreneurs like me, so much money to be made.

Everyone just calls me handlebars, I can't remember the last time anyone called me my name. Now that I think about it, I don't even remember what it was, but who the fuck cares. I'm handlebars, the life of the party and the best fuck in this city.

[physalian]

On Hyper Independent Characters (and how not to make them the bad guy)

So many characters with “trust issues” are painted out to be cynical little gremlins who just need to ~open their hearts~ and ~let the love in~ like doing so, repeatedly, has only proven them right every single time, but this one love interest will swoop in and save the day.

The people who write these characters tend to do so in bad faith, as if their fears and trust issues are unfounded nonsense, like they’re wrong and Negative Nellys for being wary.

So!

From experience (thus this is hella biased), here’s some thoughts on writing an independent character with trust issues that isn’t belittling.

1. It’s likely not that kind of trust they have issues with

I said this before a while ago, but “trust issues” paired with an extreme sense of self-reliance isn’t “I think everyone is a liar,” but rather “I think everyone is unreliable”. It might stem from a place of constantly being let down, of constantly having the people in their life drop the ball on major events, but also little things, even something as simple as “hey yeah I’ll totally do the dishes” and then they continue to sit there, forcing the person to be a nag about it, or just do it themselves.

These kinds of personalities tend to grow up surrounded by unkept and empty promises, where, while it might not be every single occasion, it happens one too many times for them to keep giving the benefit of the doubt. Even when people have the best of intentions and mean it when they say they’ll do XYZ in the moment, and they really just forgot, the person they made the promise to is impatiently waiting for them to remember 12-day-old dishes.

2. Why don’t they just remind people to keep their promises?

If you’re in my boat, many people with commitment issues are also narcissists or just mean, who, if you even gently remind them, make you out to be a nagging, impatient brat. And to avoid hearing that again, you just don’t speak up. Too many times where ‘forgetting’ has been from a source of a weird power fantasy, intentionally screwing you over, leaves people sitting in a state of unknowing whether it’s benign neglect or very much on purpose, and afraid to voice their concerns to be proven right.

If you’re not in my boat, chronic “forgetters” aren’t going to change without intervention. So if I ask you to do the dishes once, and you forget, that’s one thing. If I ask you twice, three times, four times, nagging over and over again, then the benefit of the doubt is shredded, and I can’t help but assume that the “forgetting” is on purpose. Either weaponized incompetence or something more benign, doesn’t matter. Even if you have some executive dysfunction, that's an explanation, not an excuse, and the people you live with aren't your maids.

Either way, these personalities might grow up with a whole slew of self-worth issues, and be reluctant to make plans with people, invite friends to important events, or get excited about big milestones, because they’re so used to people they care about “forgetting” or canceling last minute that the only one they can trust to reliably show up is themselves.

3. Why don’t they just communicate these fears?

See the “narcissists” in point 2

4. Isn’t it lonely never letting people in?

Fuck yeah, it is. The thing is, though, that if you spend your whole life learning how to do everything alone—pay your bills, do ‘couple’ or ‘friend’ activities, run errands, take yourself out to places—the idea of having to squeeze in the wants and needs of someone else might start to sound incredibly inconvenient.

If you’re so used to being on your own schedule and reaping the benefits of being a party of 1 in crowded spaces (I just took myself to dinner at a place with an hour long wait, able to be seated immediately at the last remaining barstool), of not having to wait for someone else to confirm plans, negotiate who’s driving, negotiate a time to meet up, food to order, a movie to see, a roller coaster to ride, a game or streaming service to buy—everything is entirely under your control, sacrificing convenience for the chance that the person you invite actually shows up on time and is invested as you are isn’t really worth the risk.

That's not to say I don't enjoy when I get to do things with friends, but I can equally enjoy doing things alone as opposed to whining about it.

Personally, while I can daydream about having a romantic partner, that thought is always immediately followed up by the understanding that they’ll be an inconvenience to my independence. But I’m someone who’s always had to do the emotional labor in a relationship, who’s always the most organized, the most mature, the most level-headed in tough situations. Always been the person in groupwork who does all the work. The idea of being “a team” is a fantasy meant for other people. “Team” to me is “me and this deadweight that I have to drag around”.

5. How I’d like to see this represented in characters

Dropping “the one” into their lives and having this person swept up, broken out of their little pessimistic shell, in some epic romance, as if they only needed to find the right person and nothing at all goes wrong… is bad faith.

It’s bad faith because it minimizes this kind of independence as just a little mood problem that can be fixed right quick, that it’s inherently wrong—what was all the fuss about?

What I’d like to see is examples that prove they’re not crazy. Big and little things. Dishes, and big events. Then, they can meet “the one,” but not without some trial and error. A lifetime of “people suck and are unreliable” isn’t going to be snapped away bibbidi bobbidi boo after one good date. This magical person will have to show up, and keep showing up, and keep showing up, and the one time they don’t, because they won’t, then A and B can hash it out like adults.

6. How this person might act

I’ve never actually met somebody like me and we’d either be best friends or loathe each other. But this person might be the most reliable friend you’ve ever had, because they’re so afraid of becoming like everyone in their life who let them down before. If you ask a favor of them, it gets done with supernatural haste.

This person might also have their own commitment issues, where instead of failing to keep their promises, they punish themselves by keeping promises they hate, showing up out of spite and resentment because they said they would, lest they be called a hypocrite.

They might under-share or not speak up about accomplishments in their life until the time for hype and anticipation has passed, lest they share expecting the same level of excitement only to be met with apathy. They might not show visible excitement about objectively exciting things, because they’re so used to plans falling through that they won’t believe something is happening until they are physically in the location and it’s staring them in the face.

Thus, they might look frequently bored or unhappy and unmoved by something important to you, or something you thought they’d like (especially if you’ve let them down before, trust is a privilege, not a right).

7. What I’d like people to understand most of all

First, that some of us tend to live by the “if you want something done right do it yourself” mantra, so actually asking somebody for help with something is admitting that X cannot be done alone, which makes failure to keep a promise even worse. As in, if A goes out of their way to admit they can’t do F alone and risk being let down to ask B to do this one little thing for them, and B still drops the ball, A is going to sit there and think “this is why I have trust issues”.

Can’t speak for everyone, but yes I do acknowledge that the suffering in silence isn’t helping anyone and am working on it. Counterpoint: Weaponized incompetence is very real and an adult should not have to remind another adult to keep their living space clean, at the bare minimum. Agreeing to do a thing is at least equal responsibility on the inviter and invitee and "you didn't remind me" isn't a valid excuse.

But most importantly, if you have a friend or relative who is fiercely independent, I’d implore you to learn one thing: Do not make promises that you can’t keep. And if shit happens and you have to cancel even when you had the best of intentions, have the decency to tell them and make the best effort you can to reschedule ASAP, instead of putting the impetus on them to do the rescheduling. Make it absolutely clear that you do, in fact, care, and weren’t going out of some apathetic sense of obligation.

I cannot count the amount of times I have asked a friend to do something for me, they eagerly agreed, and then my very real deadlines come and go and they say absolutely nothing, so I have to nag them, and nag them, and then they turn it back on me with a “obviously you can see that I’m busy and you’re not paying me for this” when all they had to do was say “no I can’t help you” (two whole humans; we are not friends anymore).

The ability to be approached with a request for a favor, step back and think about it, and go “No, I don’t think I can do that in that time frame/at this moment I’m going through a lot/with the skill the task requires” is apparently ridiculously rare. I’d infinitely prefer a no upfront than a yes, bank on that yes, and then wait around hoping someone follows through.

Not saying anything is really rude. If you agree to X, the person who asked you is fully expecting you to do X. They shouldn’t have to be lining up backup plans and last minute helpers scrambling to do the job you promised would get done.

—

Not exaggerating when I say it happens in so many areas. I’ve needed very important things like recommendation letters, or actual paid beta readers on a very hard deadline and still scrambled at the last minute to find replacements that sometimes cost real money for rush fees. I’ve been left waiting at an event for an hour minimum only to finally receive a ‘hey I can’t come’ text and then go home. I’ve told people multiple times, “hey, if you’re going to do X, please do it like this and have some consideration for my things that you’re borrowing” and just… be ignored.

As somebody who gets whatever’s asked of me done immediately, no matter how busy I am, man is it hard to keep accepting “sorry I forgot” as an excuse, from multiple people, multiple times.

The nice thing, though, the big benefit of hyper-independence is that I have learned so many skills out of a compulsion to just do it myself instead of gambling with the accountability of another flighty human. Handyman things for my home and my car, but artistic things, too. So there’s that.

[toomuchracket]

i picture bday party girlie as being like Dramatically hot like the kind of hot where you can literally see heads turning when she walks past… so hot that everyone is like how did He bag Her???

and then flatmate is a girl next door kind of vibe like definitely gorgeous but where hot wouldn’t necessarily be the first descriptor until you see her let loose and you’re suddenly like i would kill myself for one night with her lol.

d word… drop-dead. like ur a goner the second you lay eyes on her. she gives cunty miniskirt and sunglasses strutting through london with her obsessed bf on her arm vibes.

office girlie i think i would beg her to be mean to me and i would like it but also she’d be my best friend. sheer tights and thick thighs and a leather blazer ohh i need her

barista girlie hallway crush… girl you get obsessed with because you always see her around and you can’t believe someone’s that gorgeous but you never go up to her

this didn’t really answer your question bc i think they’re all incredibly hot in different ways but if i Had to pick i think d word is the hottest <3

- heather 🫶

long post we r discussing everyone

the thing about bday party girly is that getting to that level of hotness was a gradual thing - not full ugly duckling transformation, because you were always pretty, but just finding your way in terms of fashion and beauty and discovering the styles you liked best and that suited you really well, and that did wonders for your confidence (which i think is like half the battle of hotness). but it still wavers, and you have a hard time with comparison to others (specifically, the girls you see matty with before you get together) and believing in yourself in regard to anything that isn't your writing ability; this is a leftover from your teenage years, where you'd only ever really get complimented on your brain and your writing and never on your looks, which you know isn't a big deal and it's nice people think you're smart but also... sometimes, when you're 16, you need to hear from someone that isn't your mum or your girls that you look nice lol. but you persevered with both writing and the style search, and it worked out well - one of the first things matty said when you guys were first introduced was "i've read your work! and i don't think it's fair that writing so good can come from someone so attractive. not fair at all", and when you realised that there was no punchline, that he actually meant it (he really did. he thought you were gorgeous)... yeah. we know what happened next

flatmate YES ok like you really are just so pretty and (as we know from pre dating flatmate era) a lot of people think that as is and they fancy you BUT like you said it isn't until you loosen up or you get kinda animated that it really sinks in how sexy you actually are. like, matty's already excited to be sat next to you the first time you meet, but it isn't until you roll your eyes and say something sarky and smirk that he properly becomes enamoured; when you're yapping with some other people during a break and you start ripping into a boy who said something really stupid or mean or whatever... yeah, matty's a goner (he really would kill himself for one night with you lol). such a fun couple, the two of you, because you're both aware of how hot you are - i mean, you both have your moments of insecurity, we all do, but you're generally very self-assured. and it's hot to see. very

d word... so fucking true. and you don't know it! you're too busy doing 5 million things at once to pay attention to people Wanting you, and all your self-care beauty regimes/pilates/buying nice clothes is really for nobody but yourself, because - eldest daughters rise up - you're really the only person who takes care of you. and then matty happens, and you like him so much you let your guard down a bit and relax, and suddenly you have someone else who takes care of you so naturally it's kinda overwhelming, someone else who makes a point of proving to you just how beautiful you are, someone else you want to look nice for, someone else who loves you and appreciates you and is almost unhealthily obsessed with you; he's never not clinging to you, as if you'll disappear the second he lets you go, and never not looking at you like you're the most precious thing in the world. you kinda are, to him, though

office girly - coolest person alive i fear. kinda like flatmate in that you know you're hot, even without the myriad of incredible outfits you've painstakingly put together; i do think you're the best dressed of the tmr girls, actually. anyway! THE body - soft curves, long legs (thick thighs save lives), hips that matty wants to (and has, actually) take a bite of, possibly the best arse in london, and we've all read tiny bikini so we know what your boyfriend thinks about your tits lol. there's a running joke in your relationship that the reason matty (art critic) fancies you is because you're built like the girls in Classical art, which he denies like "not true! you have nicer boobs" lmfao little freak. people are a little bit surprised when the two of you get together, because he's so shy and quiet and weird and you aren't, but holy shit do you look good together - i think you skew slightly on the edgy side of the fashion scale, so literally you and matty (when he loses the cardigans) are kinda the hot alt couple everyone dreams about. also yes heather she would be your best friend she's so sound!!

barista girly is very reminiscent of the girl who got on the same tube as me at westminster station a year ago and had a striped shirt tucked into flared jeans and pointed stilettos on and the most flawless straightened ponytail i have ever seen - chic as fuck, and you see her on public transport ONCE and think about her forever. intimidating, but so alluring, and if anyone actually plucked up the courage to talk to you they would learn you're lovely and also kinda a massive flirt; that is, until you meet someone you really REALLY like (matty) and you get really quite shy and soft. that said, before you meet him, you do Fuck (people of all genders), and actually you (and your strap) are responsible for a really quite massive amount of Best Sexual Encounter stories, so you're very known for being sexy lol - incredible energy matching going on between you and matty, actually. like, it should technically be a sad day for everyone else when you and matty get together, but you just work so well and look so incredible together that everyone's like. yeah ok this makes sense. yeah, you're gorgeous

[glitchxinthematrix]

IRREDEEMABLE

Part 4

Love, a concept so complicated to even grasp and yet, every single soul in the universe end up craving it. I have had my share of the cravings, but, news flash, it all resulted in me being left alone stranded. So the concept is now hid safe inside a box. buried deep down somewhere inside, and at times like these I hear the faint screaming it does from the suffocation, all for some acknowledgement. And now, Geto, Love? The one minute he stared longer? Gojo's words kept replaying in my head on my way to find Suguru.

I wouldnt run my thoughts any deeper into this, i mean why should i? what did he do about this? how long has this been going on, and ,oh fuck , thats a pillar and my head is gonna raamm into-, wait no its soft, wait its a hand, a familiar one, shit-

I slowly raised my head to see geto by the vending machine with one can of his favourite drink and the other hand as a barrier to my head and the wall. and yet he doesnt frickin spare me a look, why te hell is his head stooped so low.

Walls are everywhere these days huh?,the audacity to joke around right now without even meeting my eye.

"So youre not even gonna look at me?" I blurt out, unexpectedly helpless in my delivery.

As I see him lift his head up very reluctantly and struggle, i find myself doubting everything gojo previously said, miutes ago.

"Whats up y/n". THE NERVE.

"Didnt take you to be a fuckboi Suguru Senpai, following your best friend's steps is it?"

With a confounded expression I saw him squint his eyes and , well that should be a question then.

"You never called, Geto".

His eyes bulged a bit like he wasnt expecting me to care about the things that we did yesterday. I saw him mumble something under his breath while maintaining the good old strained eyebrows.

"What, you dont care about how i feel now that you slept w me?"

I see his expression waver into immediate shock that desperately needed to set some things straight.

"Y/n..you don't know what you're talking about.. please".

No amount of strained expression from him is helping this mixed signal facade that's happening to me. He takes a deep breathe noticing my baffled expression.

"I do. i do care, more than I've done for anyone else. its just.. by the time you were asleep in my...in my arms, gojo had texted. Soo..it worked. Everything worked out. As intended. Or it didnt, and he came to his senses maybe,finally,else, it doesnt make sense. it makes zero sense. i mean why the fuck would someone not know how to treat you? to treat you shouldnt come as a chore or a result of some challenge, its as natural as breathing air, and idk what was with him all this while, but im sure he realises now, so give him a chance, he'll treat you better I'm sure."

"Is that what you want?"

"What..why..why would it matter, what I think" he visibly gulps, confused.

"It matters to me geto, if you care about me, to know that you like me, I don't know geto you messed with my head, I can't get you out of it...i broke up with gojo."

"What..wait. what?" His face couldn't contain the emotions that rollercoastered through his mind.

"Just say it geto, fucking say it. Do you or do you not like me. Shit, why am I even doing this? " I steer away on my heel as an attempt to hide the tears that are about ruin my mascara, until I feel an immediate grab on my wrist, the same soft hands.

"y/nnn, y/nn....how do i tell you this...you have no idea. not a thing. the way i have craved for you, to be with you, the way i have literally felt my blood boil seeing the way my bestfreind treated you. you have no ideaaa. please dont torment me any more than this, shit im sorry, i know, its not your fault. hell you had no idea how i felt. its just. all you had to do was exist ynnn. the way you aree, the way you smile, hold the hemm of gojos shirt when he failed to pay you the attention you more than deserve, the way you gently hit shoko on her shoulders when you laugh, the way your eyes crinkle when you smile, the way and fuck the way, the way i saw you yesterday, every inch of you, its etched in my memory, by choice. Fuck, I need some water"

I couldn't contain the happiness that bloomed inside me and I had to do something crazy because he looked just too cute.

" for now i can help you moisten your lips I think", I stand on my toes to reach his open mouth, so confused and wary and place the timid but hungry kiss on it, but within seconds he makes sense of things and grabs me by my waist only to land a kiss that lasted longer than the hourly bell that rang twice or thrice after that.

"Aaargh, this...you're tempting me to do something irredeemable again" he breathes with a glistening red lips messy with the stray tints of my lipstick.

"Let's redeem through it this time then."

The smirk on his lips right then looked more promising than ever.

[stupid-elf]

Growing up with strict, neurodivergent parents while neurodivergent yourself will have you as an adult acting like you've recently escaped the feywild. What are the tricky rules? Is everything accounted for? How do I ensure I don't accidentally step over the line into Impoliteness. You know the consequences aren't death and dismemberment but you might look down one day and find you've lost your shadow and all of your friends if you're not careful

[suntails]

a living bolt ⚡

[neatfrog]

I’m honestly surprised at myself for not noticing/thinking about how Stolas was very likely triggered by Blitzø stomping after him and screaming/insulting him because he dealt with it so much from Stella. As someone who has *been* in an abusive relationship, it takes so long to get out of that fight or flight mindset where you just shut down the second someone starts yelling (at least in my case). It’s been like 8 years now and I still flinch at loud voices even if they’re not directed at me.

soooo yeah I don’t blame Stolas for booting him out at that point

[giantkillerjack]

PENIS PENIS PENIS PENIS PENIS

PUSSY.

BIG FLAPPY WET JESUS PUSSY.

JESUS' SOPPING WET PUSS-PUSS

[Edited months after posting to discourage catholics from replying to this post after finding that both the nice and much funnier not-nice responses to this were equally bad for my mental health. I didn't wanna delete it bc I was quite proud of some of my responses and it helps to have a visual reminder of why I left an abusive organization. Also, this means that any catholic who has reblogged this in an attempt to convert me, has now reblogged a post that, if clicked, links back to this. Use MY post for propaganda, will you!]

Thinking about how it was never made clear to me in Catholic school exactly WHY Jesus died for our sins. I just remembered that I was literally never clear on who the dying helped??

I've heard theories as an adult, but basically what I'm saying is pointless martyrdom seems a little pointless, and also with enough propaganda the big logical gaps in a belief system get really hard to see. Especially if questioning anything is blasphemy.

I would have gotten in so much trouble for insisting the teacher explain how Jesus helped us by being tortured to death by Romans even when God could have prevented it! God sent his only Son, they would have said! Be grateful, they'd say! Be guilty! Stop asking why he did that!!!

[batsplat]

casey also talks about sepang 2015 what do you think of that

oh in that podcast? uh... lemme listen again...

yeah idk it's not really anything new I'd say? he's said basically all the same stuff in more interesting and extensive ways elsewhere. I think casey inevitably has a very 'well feuding is bad and helps nobody' point of view, has expressed that before in the past, does it here again, and he's also drawn a parallel between himself and marc on several occasions. which... well, of course there's similarities in terms of public discourse or whatever, but the parallel really falls apart whenever casey argues the feuds cost valentino. like, I do think it's sometimes important to just. keep in mind. it's interesting that casey draws this comparison in his mind but that doesn't necessarily means he's right about this. I'm not sure how you'd argue that starting a feud with casey cost valentino anything competitively? you can argue it didn't help him I guess, and then we can have a debate about the ins and outs of the 2008 season. we can also have an argument that in a hypothetical world where casey isn't ill in 2009, valentino doesn't break his leg and casey isn't on a piece of junk in 2010, and valentino isn't on a piece of junk in 2011-12, then actually maybe valentino sparking open animosity with casey COULD have cost him. but we don't know that! didn't happen! I wish we could have found out, but we never got the chance! as it stands, the tally on this is pretty straightforward: casey won the title when things were reasonably civil between them in 2007, and valentino took control of the following season at the exact moment he worsened the relationship between the pair of them in 2008. obviously, it's all more complicated than that and casey would of course argue laguna didn't negatively affect his subsequent performances... but it certainly didn't help them. like, at the very worst valentino escalating tensions in 2008 is a complete net neutral. after 2009, them being bitchy to each other every other tuesday was completely competitively irrelevant beyond maybe affecting how they approached occasionally fighting for a podium position. hey, maybe casey used that feud to fire himself up through sheer spite throughout the later stages of his career, but that doesn't actually support his anti-feud stance - it's basically the exact same thing as what valentino does. they're both quite similar in that regard! always so hungry to prove a point, to show how someone else is wrong. kinda half the point with this feuding business is to get yourself going, get yourself motivated, yeah. he straight up openly admits to using yamaha's repeat rejection of him as a way of giving himself motivation, and at the end of the day that's really not all that different?

anyway, what else does casey say... oh yeah, that him and the other aliens were already kinda prepared for this and had learned vale's tricks. that valentino had only been able to get into the minds of the previous generation. welllllll *wiggles hand* sure, I mean, he did clearly have to change his approach... he couldn't just use the exact same playbook to get to them, either on-track or off-track. but that's why he did change up the playbook... again, whether you want to believe valentino won his final two titles 'in the head' rather than just through pure pace kinda depends on how you assess the evidence, but it is at the very least a debate. and, y'know, it's always worth remembering that valentino's most important mind games with casey didn't happen in a press conference... it was on the track. and the on-track stuff really is just embedded in how valentino approaches winning. speaking of aliens, this is what dani and jorge have said:

like, valentino's entire approach to his riding, even to the way he's setting his bike up, is deliberately about directly fucking with you... he's not actually always trying to be faster than you as much as he's trying to give himself the tools to make your life miserable, to pressure you into mistakes, etc etc... and again, especially with casey (if anything because he was so mentally sturdy), the off-track stuff was really just window dressing. (I know they bicker a lot after 2009 but it's just so fundamentally irrelevant to actual on-track competition.) so you can be aware of those tricks, but it also doesn't necessarily help you when someone's being nasty to you on-track in a way you just fully do not enjoy. which is what it was like for casey! for casey, a lot of this comes back to the truly unpleasant context of how he was perceived by the public, how he was treated as mentally weak or 'broken' or whatever partly because he had the misfortune of coming up against a bloke who had the reputation for breaking rivals. I think it's quite natural to end up with a bit of a hardliner 'actually I've never been mentally affected by a result in my life' stance - and of course casey is a lot tougher than a lot of people give him credit for. that being said. sometimes your rivals affect you, shit happens, it's part of the game. it's fundamentally a nice idea to think that valentino's tactics weren't just morally wrong but also ineffective, which is kind of the appeal of this narrative, right? you want to believe you're above that, you want to believe you were adequately prepared and wise to valentino's tactic. it's unsurprising and understandable that casey does tend to tell the story that way, but again it's *wiggles hand* also hard to describe it as completely factual

uh. what else. oh I'm thrilled casey does canonically know valentino and marc were friends, he has said he wasn't following motogp too much during that time period so you couldn't be sure of that. does this mean anything? does it tell you anything? well, no, but it's just a pleasing thought to me. I like that. oh also 'provoking particularly aggressive riders isn't a good idea' is kinda a funny take from casey? like, he of all people would hate the idea of being cowed by someone's reputation like that... casey's right that provoking fast riders can potentially be dangerous, but y'know I do think that's probably not news to anyone almost nine years later. um. that's all I've got I think

[simplepotatofarmer]

.

[hypaalicious]

At 200k words, I have successfully finished the script for the VN adaptation of Fated to Flame.

Now, excuse me while I potato in order to recharge.

[madamescarlette]

💐

[im-goin-mad]

love isn't crushing on a hot guitarist - love is my friend and i saying the most gruesome, inappropriate, dehumanising, sexualising stuff about him

[jakeperalta]

spent weeks psyching myself up to stand up to my mum and then immediately got shot down by her 😃👍