#but the other phone i got was actually garbage and would fucking

[navybrat817]

Jawbreaker

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader Summary: Bucky put a mouthy rookie in his place. Word Count: Over 800 Warnings: Established relationship, mention of injury, misogyny, punching, slight feels (it's me), Bucky Barnes defending you (he's a warning, okay?). A/N: I'm dedicating this to @whisperlullaby , who got to read this in advance, because she deserves this man (along with the rest of you). ❤️Written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

A small part of Bucky felt bad as he idly wiped his hand with a towel. A very small part.

He didn’t want people to fear him because of his past and he refused to let it define him. That meant that he tried his best to avoid violent tactics unless absolutely necessary.

But today, well, fuck that. The fucker had it coming.

Steve stood in front of him, his blue eyes narrowed as he waited for his best friend to acknowledge him.

Oh, Bucky expected some sort of reprimand, but he was sure Steve would change his tune in a minute or so.

“You gonna ask me what happened, punk, or glare at me until I talk?” He asked, tossing the towel away.

The blonde huffed out a laugh, but he didn’t look amused. “Why did you break that rookie’s jaw?”

Bucky tilted his head. “What’s the phrase? He fucked around and found out.”

You would’ve been proud of him for that reference.

Steve shook his head when Sam burst out laughing a few feet away. “Sam, please,” he begged, though his mouth twitched like he was trying not to smile. “What did the guy do?”

A bitter taste flooded Bucky’s mouth as anger coursed through his veins again. He inhaled as he thought of your sweet smile and soft touch before he exhaled, the storm inside of him calming.

“Buck, you gotta tell us something,” Steve urged, needing some sort of information to try and do some damage control.

The brunette straightened up to look his friend in the eyes, wanting him to see the fury beneath the cold mask. “He told my girl to throw an apron on and get back in the kitchen when she went to spar.”

You, one of the most capable agents Bucky had ever known.

You, who had shown nothing but kindness to everyone, even when they didn’t deserve it.

The person Bucky was lucky enough to call his other half. His better half.

And some asshole rookie had the gall to treat you as if you didn’t belong there with the rest of them.

Sam was no longer laughing. Steve’s jaw clenched in understanding.

Bucky swallowed, that fury threatening to surface again as he remembered the hurt that filled your eyes at the comment. “You know I’d support anything she wants to do, whether that’s working or staying at home. It doesn’t give some prick the right to make her feel bad for her decision.”

“You know I don’t like bullies, but breaking his jaw?” Steve questioned. The guy deserved it, but did the punishment actually fit the crime?

“When she walked away, he said to come back when she was ready to see what a real man could do for her,” he said, the words coming out like a snarl.

The way you tensed up, fear and disgust flickering on your face, he didn’t think. A switch inside of him went off and he swung.

The fucker was lucky that all he got was a broken jaw. He could’ve done so much worse.

And it wasn’t that you couldn’t defend yourself because you could, but you shouldn’t have to put up with garbage like that.

A cracking sound echoed in the room before he realized he crushed the armrest of his seat. “Fuck. I’ll pay for that,” he mumbled, kicking a bit of the broken piece with his boot. “Can you just tell me how much trouble I’m in so I can get back to my girl?”

He didn’t care if he they suspended or even fired him as long as he got back to you.

The room stayed silent before Sam mused, “Technically, what the rookie did counts as harassment.”

Steve nodded. “And I’m sure Nat can persuade him not to sue for the injury he received,” he added, pinching the bridge of his nose. “We’ll take care of it, Buck. Just. No more breaking jaws, okay?”

“When it comes to my girl, I make no promises,” Bucky smiled, his heart racing at the thought of you. “And maybe he’ll think twice before he opens his mouth again.”

“The damage you did, I don’t think he can open his mouth at all,” Sam mumbled.

Bucky’s phone went off before he could comment, his heart swelling as he read your text. He had to bite back a groan, too.

“Thank you again, Jawbreaker. I love you and I’ll be on my knees waiting for you.”

You wanted to thank him not just with words, but with your body and heart. It all belonged to him, like he belonged to you.

And he didn’t need to tell Steve and Sam what the message said since it was just for the two of you. “Love you, too, baby. Nothing to thank me for, but I’m on my way. Be ready.”

“Yes, Sir.”

Maybe we'll see how you "thank" Bucky down the road. Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[luveline]

kisses before dinner — steve comes home to his girls after a long day. 2k, mom!reader

Steve has a back ache twinging between his shoulders that takes his breath away as he treks the last step up to the front door. The door gets caught on the latch when he pushes it open, which is awesome, Steve’s so glad you’re being safe late at night, but deplorable in that he has wood grain etched into his jaw and no way inside. 

“Girls?” He knocks the glass pane. “Anybody home?” 

Everyone should be home. Your car is in the driveway, the girls’ shoes are by the wall. He pushes the door open as far as he can (not far) and weasels his face into the gap to look for you. It’s dark besides the upstairs bathroom light. 

Steve calls your name a few times, but eventually comes to the realisation that you’re all asleep and he’s locked out. He closes the door and heads back to his car to scrounge the spare back door key from under his seat. 

He fights through the garden gate covered in brambles to the backyard. It hasn’t been touched since summer, forgotten things left to the elements. Avery’s bike flakes with copper coloured rust against the wall. The trampoline net is tangled and fallen off of one side. There are plastic cups in the stinging nettles growing back beneath it and gummy bears swollen with water along the paving stones like some poor retelling of Hansel and Gretel. He unlocks the back door and promptly knocks over the trash can he’d left in front of it. His back whines as he cleans it away, but at least it’s warm inside. 

It’s good to be home. 

He shoves the toppled garbage back into the can, washes tomato sauce off of his hands in the sink, and lets himself bask in his own poorly lit company for a moment, rubbing his tired eyes. He was hoping for a welcome party. It took longer to help Robin move than they’d anticipated. 

“I won’t be back for a while,” he’d said apologetically down the phone. 

“Okie dokie,” you’d crooned. He didn’t need to see you to know there was a baby in your lap. “Just come home when you can, babe. And lift with your knees! I’ll put your plate in the fridge, yes? Love you.” Your voice turned to sugar. “Love you, love you, love you, honey.” You definitely weren’t talking to him at that point. Mother of my kids, he’d thought reverently, the strength of a thousand men restored for an hour or two before the fatigue truly set in and he and Robin considered leaving the rest of her furniture on her new front lawn.

He scratches his hair from his eyes with both hands. Mother of my kids, he thinks again. You’ve actually managed to keep the kitchen tidy, the only evidence of a day of play being the grape juice rings on the dining table placemats. How the fuck you’ve done it is a miracle worth marvelling. Three children, one (admittedly smaller) baby bump, and a full eighteen hours by yourself. You’re very impressive. 

He decides to tell you emphatically with his face in your neck. He should shower, and he will apologise to you for subjecting you to his sweaty hair in the morning. You’ll shrug off his apology, say something sweet about for better or worse or maybe wrinkle your nose and kiss him anyways. 

Steve honestly can’t find any shame about how much he likes you. Like and love can begin to diverge in a marriage, especially after kids when your duty as parents is more important than it is as partners, but you’ve yet to let him pull away, and he won’t give you a reason to. He’ll keep trying as hard as possible to be a husband you can adore. And you don’t have to do much, really. Realistically you give the majority of yourself every day to Steve and your kids, but he would cling to you if you got sick of it. He knows he would. You could turn hermit and live under the bed, and Steve would spend half his life on his stomach just looking at you.

Half trying to pull you out again. The other half getting the girls ready for school. He’s so tired he doesn’t realise that this is too many halves. 

When he gets to the top of the stairs he feels like a lifetime has passed since he left that morning, bright and early at 5AM. There’d been driving, car swaps, booing at people from behind the wheel, a hundred boxes, a million trips up and down the stairs, and a suspicious washing machine recalibration. This was without the cold coke drinking, peanuts, popcorn, mistimed movie references, and the obligatory insulting of Robin’s girlfriend’s mauve chaise, of which Robin refused to participate. 

Between all that, there’d been worrying, and a want for more phone calls. Promise me you’ll call me if you need anything at all, he’d said that morning, giving your face a fond caress. There’s a confidence that comes with this much love. Steve can pour every inch of his affection for you into one touch and knows you’ll soak it up like a sponge. Really. Any problems, any stress, any tantrums. Just call me. I’m ten minutes away. 

You were grateful if amused, telling him he didn’t need to worry so much, and then offering him another slice of toast. 

Is it weird how much I love my wife? he wonders, pushing open the bedroom door gently. 

You’re actually awake! He’s shocked and a little betrayed to find you looking at him, but the betrayal fades when he notices the swelling around your eyes and your trembling arm as you hoist yourself up under Avery’s weight. He’s woken you up coming in. 

“Sorry,” he mouths, frowning at your shakiness. 

You manage a smile and beckon him forward. The problem is the little ladies strewn about in the way. Avery drools on your chest while Dove takes up the entirety of Steve’s side, spread into a star shape, and Bethie snores loudly by your knees. An especially aggressive one makes him laugh as he rounds the bed to your side. 

“Hello,” he whispers, taking your face into a loving hand, “sorry I’m back so late.” 

You smile into his palm but don’t say anything. 

“You okay? Had a good day?” he asks.

You hum something nonsensical. He wipes at your cheek in the rough way you enjoy, your face bumped with every stroke of his thumb.

“Did you…”  Your eyelashes flutter closed. “Did you eat?” 

“Loads. Sorry. I’ll eat my dinner tomorrow.”

You wrinkle your nose. He’s been dying to see it. “Don’t bother, it wasn’t my best.”

“All dinners are your best.” 

You cover his hand with yours, and then you steal it away from your cheek and kiss it all over. Steve bends down to hug you.

“Missed you,” you say at the same time. Steve laughs. “Was it a long day?” you ask. 

“I could ask you the same thing.” 

“It was aeons,” you say. “The girls were good, mostly. Baby not so much.” 

“Aw, no,” he croons softly, “what’s she been doing?” 

“She won’t let me eat.” 

Steve rubs the top of your arm. “I’m sorry, honey. You should’ve called me.” 

“What are you gonna do, H?”

He breathes out into the side of your face. “You’re right, like always. What can I do?” 

He can’t do a thing to ease your morning sickness, so… Steve ends up taking a knee on the bed beside you to hold you for a while, no rush to lay down even though he aches in strings and shouts. “I’m glad I can’t get pregnant. I’d have hundreds of your babies if I could and it would be torture.” 

You laugh at his absurdity in the giggly startled way he’d been hoping for. 

“Did you throw up?” he asks, pulling away enough to see your face while his hand starts the soft journey down your front to your bump. You’re about three months along and the bump came quickly. It’s cute and Steve loves it and he tries not to be weird about it but he’s weird about you. 

“No, just kept churning. I made eggs for breakfast and we can’t eat them anymore.” 

Steve kisses your cheek, the corner of your eye, knowing it’ll make you happy. Your smile follows swiftly after, and he kisses that with gusto. “I don’t even like eggs,” he mumbles.

“You love eggs.” 

“What was it like being the stay at home mom today?” he asks. 

“Hard. But fun. Avery was being really nice to me all day, did you have something to do with that?” 

“Avery’s always nice.” 

Your smile widens impossibly, “Yeah, but she was asking me if I wanted to sit down and if I needed a glass of water all day.” 

Steve shrugs. “Doesn’t sound like something I’d do.” 

“Well don’t do it again, H. She’s just a baby. She doesn’t need to worry about me.” 

Steve strokes your forehead, totally in your orbit. “She’s not worrying. Are you worrying about her when you take care of her? And sometimes you need a reminder.” 

You chew it over. “Okay… you’re right. You win that one, Harrington. Mostly ‘cos I’m too tired.”

Steve always wins when he gets to slide into bed next to you. You push yourself over and bunch the kids up tighter. There’s not quite enough room for him. He feels as though he’s one little legged kick from falling back out, but he doesn’t mind, wrapping an arm around you and Avery where she’s sliding off of you and onto the mattress between you both. The poor girl is in a deep sleep, dribbling from the corner of her mouth. Steve wipes it away. 

“You comfortable enough?” he asks. 

“I’m fine. Thank you for asking.” 

He rests his head against yours on the pillows. “Missed you.” 

“But you had fun, right?” 

“It was great. I feel like I ran a marathon.” 

“Exhausted?” you ask. 

“And accomplished… You sure you’re okay? It was a long day by yourself. That stunt you pulled in the kitchen? Incredible.” 

“I thought you’d like that. I told the girls you’d buy them a pony.” 

“You did not.” 

You laugh into his cheek. “No, I didn't, you caught me… I’m fine, really. I did miss you. It’s not nice, not seeing you. I’m used to a couple of hours, but it started feeling wrong when it was dark out, I… it’s silly but I was thinking about how horrible it would be if you never came back–”

Your pitch lifts up as Steve gasps and slaps a hand over your mouth (doesn’t slap, but covers, big hand on your lips and pressing them shut without sympathy). 

“Don’t be ridiculous.” He meets your eyes, smiling hard despite the fatigue clinging to you both, and doesn’t buckle, even as you kiss his palm again. “Pregnancy brain is a scary thing.” 

Your eyes turn to melting. He’s putty immediately, pulling your hand away to caress your cheek. 

“Wanna be crazy in love in the morning?” he asks gently. You put your arm behind Avery’s back and smile as she snuggles into your ribs. Steve kisses your nose. “Go to sleep, honey. I can feel how tired you are. Back to normal in the morning.” 

“Love you, Steve.” 

“Love you, too.”

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Wicked Games 1

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: non/dubcon, cheating, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Steve Rogers

Summary: you had a one night stand. Or did you?

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

Your phone wakes you. The room tilts as you open your eyes. A dull hammering thrums in your temples. The morning light makes your brain rough as sand paper. 

Dregs of vodka stick to your dry tongue. The hangover weighs you down like an anchor. Just the thought of moving hurts. 

You reach blindly for your jittering phone. Bubbly music tinkles from the speaker. Shit. It's Barrett. What did he forget this time? 

You answer and put your clammy palm to your forehead. You squint at the ceiling then your eyes slowly round. Where the fuck are you?  

"Hey, babe. You at Wendy's?" Your husband asks. 

You gulp and peel your tongue off the roof of your mouth. This isn't Wendy's house. 

"Yep," you croak. Your eyes ping side to side. 

"Look, I'm sorry about last night. Things got heated and I know I was an ass--" 

You cough as you sit up in the strange bed. "Yeah, you were." 

"So why don't you come home and we can talk it out." 

You peer around the room and your lips curve in a frown. Where the hell would you go besides home your loyal best friend's? You scratch you scalp and turn your legs over the edge of the bed, "let me get myself together." 

"Babe. Please. I'm sorry." 

"When I get home." You hang up.  

It was a hell of fight. The minute he started yelling, you bailed. He knows better. You're not doing a ten hour day and coming home his nagging. So you left out your coffee mug. Big deal. You didn't say anything about the garbage bag he left out to be torn apart by raccoons. 

Whatever. Fighting over dishes. Not of it matters right now. 

Your clothes are on the floor. Someone's floor. Who it is is far from the point. You stand and stagger. You catch yourself on the nightstand. Your hand moves instinctively between your legs. 

You're naked and tender. Did you have sex? 

Think! You ran out with your purse. You went to Wendy's. She was up for a night out. A night to forget and body did you. First drink, second, third, then it gets blurry.  

Fuck! You didn't. You wouldn't. You're pissed at your husband but you wouldn't cheat on him. You're not that type of person. Right? 

You don't have time for that. You have to get out of here.  

You dress as you search the room. It's tidy. Half the bed is mad and the other half messed from your drunken slumber. 

You shake out your hands trying to shoo away the flurry of guilt and denial. Just get out. You'll think better with some coffee in your system.  

You push down the door handle slowly. You listen to the silence of the hall. You tiptoe out warily, checking left and right as you advance. It's a nice place. A condo. Much nicer than your cramped one bedroom. 

Not important! 

You come out into the spacious front room. It's as empry as the rest of the place. The kitchen too. The bathroom. No one. 

Your purse is by the door. Your shoes too. You grab both and let yourself out. You'd rather not face your mistake. 

No, you didn't do anything. You wouldn't. 

You hurry down the hallway to the elevators. You don't look back, just keep going. You don't think, just go. 

It isn't until you're outside the familiar cafe marquee that your let your mind settle. You enter and join the queue. Your order a black coffee and drink it at a stool by the window.  

You lean your elbows on the high table that stands inside the pane. You take a slow, savouring swig of coffee and let it trickle down your throat. You shield your face from the New York morning and put your hands over your ears. 

You can't remember anything but Wendy. Your anger had you ordering round after round, trying to drown out the bile. The thought makes your stomach lurch and you gulp thickly. 

You shake your head and groan. Your phone chirps. It's probably Barrett. Several messages from him and missed calls. All through the night. It's bad enough you betrayed him, you had him up worrying. 

No, you didn't! 

It can't have happened if you don't remember it. A generous stranger took you home so you didn't wake up on the curb. That's it. 

That's the story. Nothing happened. And you'll let Barret believe you were with Wendy. It won't make a difference. 

Your mind is set. Nothing happened. 

Nothing. Happened. 

Because you don't remember. Because you were too drunk to do that. Because you're married and it can't happen. 

You're going to finish your coffee and go home. Everything will be just like it was before... after you tell Barrett where to put that coffee mug if it's such a big deal. 

[deadhands69]

Something More [than burns]

Katsuki Bakugo x gn reader

MDNI + eventual smut/afab

Setting: fuckboy!Bakugo, mid-time skip, Senior Year of College. Reader did not attend UA high, just joined for university. Enemies to lovers.

Warnings, etc: series contains eventual smut, slight angst, light violence/injuries but it's bnha soooo, drinking/intoxication, swearing.

This is part 1 - part 2 - part 3 - part 4 - part 5 - part 6 - part 7 - part 8

Earlier today, you would never have dreamed you’d be stuffed in a closet with your rival, Katsuki Bakugo. Nor would you ever have imagined you’d enjoy that. But being here, pressed against his chest with his arm wrapped around you - it could be a lot worse. 

Yesterday Morning

It felt like nothing could go right. You overslept, waking up groggy and angry at the world. Your shoelace broke, you dripped toothpaste down your shirt, your phone died on the charger (hence the lack of alarm to wake you), and the weak coffee you chugged on the way out of the dorms did absolutely nothing to improve your mood. 

That’s all before walking into the classroom.

Earlier in the week, you were assigned a term-long project detailing your partner’s quirk. Pros, cons, good/bad match-ups, how your quirks work together, what you could learn from them to improve your own progress. You hoped for Izuku Midoriya, with his notebook full of information already, but you were paired with Katsuki Bakugo. 

Aizawa must hate you.

The two of you had never gotten along. Sure, he was warmer towards his friends, who he'd known for years, but never with you. That’s fair though, you also hated everything about him. You hated how cocky he would act. His stupid face when he thinks he’s right. How he always got away with his bullshit. You hated the way he treated the girls who swooned over him (all because he defeated some nerfed villain a while ago.) Then, you hated him even more when you saw the constant stream of faceless fangirls being shuttled in and out of his room in the middle of the night like no one noticed. Most of all, you hated the lack of respect he always had for you.

Unfortunately for you both, the assignment would involve a lot of back and forth, questions, explanations, etc. Considering the relationship you had with your partner, the two of you opted to work on your pieces alone, exchanging in the mornings. And, well, it’s the morning. Time to interact.

“Hey, Backfire. Ya get that work done?” (he’d always chosen to call you this, over your hero name “Echo.”)

“Yeah,” you handed him the paper detailing what you’ve observed about his quirk in practice.

He barely looks over it before adding his critique, “this is garbage. That part’s bad too. Are you trying to make me sound weak? Not like your shitty quirk is that great. Redo it.”

Not happening.

“If you have a problem, why don’t you do it then? Here’s a pen, there’s the paper. Be my fucking guest. Tell me alllll about how amazing the Great Explosion Murder God Dynamite is,” your biting words saccharine sweet as you pretended to fawn over him, “or should I just ask the girls lining up to crawl into your bed every night to write it?”

“What, jealous? God, you need to get laid. It’s a shame no one pities you enough to help out with that,” he responded with fake sympathy.

This wasn’t too far from a normal conversation between the two of you. Any other day, you thought. Any other time and maybe you could put up with his shit. 

But absolutely not today.

Before you could think, you smacked him. Hard.

A hush fell over the class as everyone watched for his reaction. Your next move.

To be honest, you surprised yourself with that one too.

You were always the “good kid.” Maybe standoffish and mouthy but you got good grades, always turned your homework in on time, and, mostly, tended to follow rules when it mattered.

But the bigger elephant in the room: no one actually fucks with Bakugo. Sure you’d all throw his words back at him and argue but physically? Between his strength, personality, and explosive quirk, no one touches him.

His face reddened in anger, hiding the puffy pink outline your hand left. “Do you wanna die??” he yelled before Aizawa shuffled to his desk in his yellow sleeping bag to start class.

Class went by as usual, despite the lingering tension in the air. Before you knew it, it was over. The teacher said something about randomly assigned partners for sparing in the morning then set you free. 

“Do it better,” Bakugo asserted, shoving the paper back at you. The imprint of your fingertips still dotted his face. 

“Fine, as long as you fix your half too. I am not getting a bad grade because of you,” you spit the words out like they would burn your tongue if you held in thoughts of him any longer. 

The rest of the afternoon, you stared at a blank sheet of paper. No matter how hard you tried, the words just wouldn’t show up. At seven, you gave up and went to Jiro’s room to hang out and watch music videos while discussing what you’d wear to Mina’s friend’s party the next day.

This Morning

Aizawa’s monotone voice carried through the training area. “We’ll be sparing today, as mentioned yesterday the matches are already set - the list is posted on the door. If you have an issue with it, don’t bother me. Otherwise, find your partner and make a plan.”

“The fuck,” you exclaim upon seeing your name next to Minoru Mineta’s with a match against Katsuki Bakugo and Shoto Todoroki.

The team pairings were randomly drawn from a hat but the matches were chosen. Aizawa must still be set on making your life hard when he made the list.

It would have been hard anyways, it’s not a fair fight. They’re the two strongest in the class and you were paired up with the weakest. They’re also both assholes when it comes to things like this so you know they won’t go easy on you. Not that they should. Your rebound quirk sends their attacks back at them, making you a difficult match for anyone who relies on their quirk. Generally, most of the class you are sparring against are resilient to their own powers to an extent so they aren’t at risk of being massively injured but that doesn’t make it any easier for them to take you down to win. You typically just have to stay out of the way. However, using your ability takes focus. With years of practice, you still weren’t sure if you’ll be able to go up against them both at once. And Mineta wouldn't be much help. 

In spite of the difficulty, you’d still have to give it your all. You’re lucky you even got into the hero course, honestly. Getting the points in the UA University entry exam wasn’t easy. Interfering with other potential students to bounce their quirks at the fake villains allowed you to scrape by. 

“Match one, get in place,” Present Mic’s voice rings through the building. 

Preparing on the other side of the room, your rivals didn’t look happy being paired with each other either. 

“We just have to get the flags off their belts,” you mumble down to Mineta, “throw your balls to trap them and I’ll walk up and take them. Oh, and don’t-” you pause, thinking of the last time you worked with Mineta on anything, “don’t do anything weird.” 

“And go!”

Immediately, Minetta covers the hall behind you in sticky purple balls. You rush to the other side, taunting them to chase you. 

“Hey, Todoroki, what’s this I hear about Endeavor in the news? You must be so proud, right? Come over so I can congratulate you!” 

The air cools around you, got him. Gliding with his ice, he rushes towards you before getting stuck on the trap you’d set. He immediately shoots a stream of ice, pinning your sparring partner to the wall.

You’re on your own now. That’s fine. It’ll be 1v1.

You turn to take Todoroki’s flag but only find his shoes. He’s in his socks, taking Mineta’s instead. You can still win this, you think. You’ll just have to be smart. 

Seeing a corner, you decide to duck into it. This will allow you to bounce back any attacks head on until they tire out. 

Red and white hair blurred towards you before the room froze. By focusing your quirk, you were able to shove his ice back ten while he attacked. You noticed his feet slide slightly back as well from the recoil. What you didn’t notice was Bakugo dropping behind your back and blasting you point blank into a wall of ice.

This Afternoon

“It’s because he hates me,” you groan. 

Recovery Girl had revived you, after mending quite a few broken bones and burns. She was still baffled by how beat up you came in from a “friendly” class match. A broken arm, two fractured ribs, burns on both wrists, and the entire back of your hero outfit had been blasted off, leading to even more burns.

“Hate is a strong word, he’s your classmate. I don’t think he hates you,” she continued while bandaging your arms.

“Definitely feels like it,” you mumbled looking down at your wrapped up limbs.

Once she finished patching you up, she told you to stay here for the day to rest then take it easy the next few days. She was leaving to visit family over the weekend but your condition is stable enough. You slept through the rest of the afternoon.

Earlier Tonight

9:05pm, the numbers on your phone illuminate the dark room.

Your hero costume had been sent in for repairs. Fortunately, your best friend has an extra key to your room. Jiro dropped off one of your hoodies and a pair of pants while you slept. She texted that she didn’t want to wake you but she’d see you at the party later tonight if you’re up for it. You pull the clothes out of the bag and get dressed, carefully avoiding your sore arms.

Feeling rested enough, you texted her back that you’d be there before throwing your boots on and heading out. 

In the dim waiting area, a black clothed figure was slumped over the chair. He begins to stir and rubs his blonde hair out of his eyes as you pass before he jumps up to follow you.

“Let me guess, is apologizing and walking me home your punishment?” you ask.

“Yep,” Bakugo responds.

“Got it,” you say walking out the door. The cold winter air burns your face.

After a long pause, he began to apologize. “I really am sorry though, I didn’t mean to actually hurt you. I should have known better and that’s on me,” his words puff out in clouds.

“I just figured it was because I slapped you yesterday.”

“It wasn’t out of retaliation,” he pauses before continuing, “I’m really not that mad about you hitting me. I mean, I was mad, but more shocked than anything. No one in our class ever treats me like that.”

“Well, someone has to. It’s one of the things I hate the most about you - people just let you get away with anything. It’s infuriating.”

“Hey, that is not true.” he side eyes you, “also, the thing you hate the most about me is how other people treat me? Really? That’s not even about me.”

“No, the thing I hate the most about you is how you treat me.”

“Well, someone has to,” your words felt icier thrown back at you.

As the conversation slipped to silence, you realized this was the first time you’d ever spoken to him alone. He almost seemed sincere, but you still weren't friendly. The rest of the walk continued like this. The dead air between you grew in tension until you reached the building. 

“Hey, you’re friends with Raccoon Eyes too. So you’re heading to that party off campus, right?” he asks, while you walk to the stairs.

“Mina’s friend’s party? Yeah I’m going.”

“I’ll walk you there. We can talk about our project on the way. Besides, everyone else has already left.”

You nodded, not having any excuse.

“Meet you here in twenty.” 

Fixing your makeup and hair took no time and you even added a little extra eyeliner. Clothes were another story.

Here’s the issue: all of the cute outfits you’d discussed wearing earlier in the week didn’t work unless you wanted to show off your massively bandaged arms. Out of time, you panicked throwing on a baggy long sleeve shirt with the skinny jeans and boots you were already wearing. Grabbing your sweatshirt to throw over the top, you ran out the door. Frumpy but at least no one would ask questions.

“Wow, it’s like you didn’t even try,” his voice calls out from the lobby.

“Oh, fuck you Bakugo! Half my body is covered in gauze because of the burns you gave me. Nothing looked cute.”

“You’re talking to someone who is covered in scars. No one cares. Besides, if anyone does say shit about it, I’ll kill ‘em. I owe you that much.”

"You covered the scars on your arm with tattoos though, doesn't count."

Ignoring this, Bakugo’s red eyes looked you up and down once more before running up the stairs past you.

“Now come on, Backfire, I’m not walking into a party with you if you look like that. Let’s pick something else.”

“Oh, treating me like one of your arm candy girls now? So fucking sweet of you,” you rolled your eyes but still followed him back up the stairs.

“If you were 'one of my arm candy girls', I wouldn’t have to drag you back to your dorm to change. Have to say, this is a first.”

“Ughh speaking of which, it’s ten - shouldn’t you be hooking up with someone by now?”

“Pretty hung up on that, huh?”

“On the way you treat women? Yeah, you’re disgusting.”

“Am not. I’m not leading anyone on or making anyone do anything.” 

“What if they end up wanting more?” you asked while pulling out your keys.

“Then I ditch ‘em, like I said I’m not leading anyone on.”

“Wow, you’re such a gentleman. Bet that’ll never come back to bite you.”

As you flipped the light on in your room, you were glad it’s relatively clean. Except for the pile of clothes you’d created on the bed but it’s not like you were trying to impress him of all people. 

Not missing much time, he practically dove into the discarded items you’d tried earlier. “This is cute,” he said holding up a tiny tank top, “and this one. I didn’t even know you owned stuff like this,” he said before handing you a stack to try. 

You almost commented about not wanting to take fashion advice from him before you realized actually looked good. He was wearing a grey jacket, tight black v-neck, and pants that fit really well. Fuck him.

Carefully, you put on the first shirt before looking up at the mirror. It’s a strappy black crop top. You bought it online over the summer but so far you hadn’t had the occasion (or the confidence) to wear it anywhere. The outfit, as a whole, looked cute but it really contrasted with the white cloth wrapped around your arms. 

“I look like a mummy,” you said as you walked out of the bathroom to show him.

Saying nothing, his eyes analyzed you. “No, that’s the outfit,” he said, continuing to stare critically, “do you have a sweater or something?”

“Yeah,” you said while picking a thick oversized grey cardigan, “you sure I don’t look like a little kid on halloween?” Why are you even asking his opinion, he’s probably just fucking with you. 

“No, you don’t,” he laughed.

The walk off-campus wasn’t the worst. He seemed to genuinely feel bad for hurting you so he got every door for you (which felt uncharacteristically nice but you decided not to get used to it.) You brought up the project from class and after a quick discussion, you both agreed it would be good to work together on it. Phone numbers were exchanged and you decided to meet tomorrow on “neutral territory”, the library. It wasn’t until you walked in the door of the house, that you realized the two of you were accidentally matching. 

Not wanting to look like Bakugo’s date of the night, you split off fairly quickly and found Jiro and Mina outside. 

“Hey, [y/n]! How are you feeling?” Jiro yelled before hugging you.

“I”m okay - thanks for dropping off clothes, that was a lifesaver!” you turned to give Mina a hug as well, “thanks for the invite! This party is awesome.”

“Of course! You should grab a drink and catch up to us!” Mina slurred back. You turned when Jiro grabbed your shoulder. 

“Oh. And as a heads up, Mineta’s been looking for you,” Jiro mumbled under her breath.

“Thanks for the warning!”

He probably just wanted to recap after what happened in class today. That could wait until Monday - he could be tolerable in moderation when he was sober, but dealing with Mineta after a few drinks? Absolutely not. You made it three steps through the door when a glint of purple entered your peripheral vision and you booked it. Rushing between people, you ran down a hallway.

Now

Seeing a door to your left, you take a chance. You reach for the handle when it flies open and you collide with Bakugo, who is also cramming himself in what you’re now realizing is a closet. His arm wraps around you, pulling you against him to shut the door.

“Ouch, fuck,” you grumble after he grabbed the still raw burn on your back. Shifting back slightly, you hit a bunch of coats, leaving you pressed into his chest.

“What the fuck are you doing in here??” his hushed voice interrogates you.

“Hiding, obviously!” you respond in a whisper.

“Hiding from what?” 

“Mineta. I think he wants to talk about today but.. Ugh I can’t deal with that little creep right now.”

Upon further thought, being in a closet with Bakugo isn’t ideal either.

“You know what, I think I’ll take my chances,” you begin to press the door open when he grabs your hand.

“No, you don’t. If you open this she might see me.”

“She? Who's ‘she’??” 

“A girl in the support course. It’s so fucking stupid. I hooked up with her last week, now she thinks we’re dating.”

“So you’re hiding in a closet? So much for being direct and not leading anyone on.”

“Oh, I forgot. You’re just sooo much better than me. I’m not in the mood for a lecture,” he shifts against you, “you know what, fuck it. I’m going out there.”

“Wait!” you whisper yell at him, fighting the urge to say you told him so, “fine. I’ll drop it. Now wait a few minutes, if you open this door, I’m sure Mineta will still be lurking around.” 

“Fine.”

Taking a deep breath, for the first time since entering the closet, you become acutely aware of how good he smells. He smells clean, like laundry and shampoo, but there’s another smell. Something more subtle that really draws you to him. Not that you could be drawn much closer. In this tiny space you feel the warmth of his body, the movement of his breathing. His arm still wrapped around you. This isn’t so bad. What the fuck are you thinking?

Bakugo breaks the long silence.

“This is the worst game of seven minutes in heaven,” he jokes, in an attempt to break the tension.

“No, it could be worse. Last year I got shoved in a closet with Denki. He was wasted and pretty handsy.”

“Really? I can’t picture you playing that game, you seem-”

You laugh, “I seem what?”

“I dunno, like you’d be too good for that or something.”

“Too good for that?”

“Yeah, like. You don’t even date,” he responds.

“You don’t date either.”

“You know what I mean. You’re basically asexual.”

“Oh my god, I am not,” you reply, “ I’m just busy, that’s all. I’d love to have more fun but it takes a lot of work to keep up in school. My quirk’s not all flashy like yours.”

He pauses. 

“None of this is easy,” you almost feel like you’re imagining things when his thumb subtly rubs your shoulder. “If it makes you feel any better, I’m hard on you because I didn’t think I’d beat you otherwise.”

“I’ll tell that to Recovery Girl next time.”

“I promise there won’t be a next time. I went too far. And I got lucky. If you’d directed your quirk at me, I would have slammed into the wall and been in there with you. It was a risky move anyways and I shouldn’ have done it.” He squeezes your shoulder, “I’ll make it up to you. Come on.”

Pressing out of the closet door, you really hope no one notices you stepping out of the small space with Katsuki Bakugo. He takes your hand, pulling you down the hallway.

“Where are we going?” you ask.

“Kitchen. That little runt’s afraid of me so you’re fine as long as you stay close.”

Approaching a counter of liquor, he opens a bottle of tequila, pouring both of you a shot. He slides it to you.

You pitch an eyebrow up at him, “you think I’m taking a drink from you?”

“Oh come on, I’m not a perv. You said you wanted to have more fun and I owe you.” 

Skeptically you agree. “Okay, but I am not going home with you.”

He laughs, “who said I’d wanna go home with you? Besides, I’m still not convinced you’d ever relax enough to fuck anyone.”

“Oh fuck off, Bakugo. Clearly you don’t know me at all,” you say before downing the shot. It burns but you don’t let yourself react.

“Clearly,” he responds slightly smirking before drinking his own.

A few hours after you first started drinking with Bakugo, the two of you are sitting on the kitchen floor with the bottle between you. You’d started shot for shot but at some point managed to lose the shot glasses and switched to passing the bottle back and forth. Your sweater and his jacket piled in a ball between you.

“Okay. So,” you slur, gesturing vaguely at him, “you want to be a hero because of All Might?”

“When I was a kid, yeah.” He puts a hand on your shoulder to steady you, “but now I have more reasons, not just him. You didn’t answer my question though! Who’s yours?”

“Who made me want to be a hero?” you’d slightly dodged the question because, even in your inebriated state, the answer is a bit embarrassing. “Okay, I’ll answer but you can’t make fun of me for it.”

“That’s no fun, I already answered and you’re definitely gonna make fun of me.”

“If I was going to make fun of you, I already would have. You’re wearing All Might socks,” you lightly kick his ankle, the blue and red socks showing where his pant legs slid up. He glances down before his head lolls back towards you, staring expectantly.

“Okay, fine. Mine’s Eraserhead.”

“Eraser? Like our teacher?” he laughs, “no, that makes a lot of sense. You totally have a crush on our teacher!”

“I do not!” you lightly shove his shoulder. Unfocused, your eyes rake over him. You’d never noticed how pretty he is until now, he’s beautiful. He bumps back into you.

“Is that why you try so hard in class? You should tell him!” he picks up your phone from the floor.

“No! But also kind of?” your hand reaches towards your phone, missing his entirely, “I don’t have a crush on him but I want him to like me.” he raises his eyebrows at you, “NOT LIKE THAT!” you pause before continuing, “how would you feel if All Might didn’t like you?”

“He doesn’t dislike you.”

“He made me work with you,” you blurt out without thinking.

Bakugo flinches slightly at the honesty, but he seems to get it. “He’s not stupid, Backfire. He’s had almost two years to see that we fight all the time and he just wants us to get along or something.” 

“If only he could see us now,” you laugh. To a stranger, you probably look quite close right now. Your leg over his, his arm over your shoulder, leaning in towards each other.

Wait, fuck.

His glossy crimson eyes light up, “wait! I’ve got it, that’s what you should send him!” he says while sloppily swiping the camera open on your phone and flipping the screen to a selfie. Pulling you in closer, your head falls onto his shoulder. The screen of your phone flashes lightly and he drops the arm in front of you, but you can’t be bothered to move. Tipping your face into him, your eyes closing. He really does smell so good.

 “Aww it’s like we’re friends, he’ll love it,” he says, nudging your phone into your hands.

Prying yourself up, your eyes adjust to the screen. As your doubled vision merges with itself, you notice the notifications in your group chat with Jiro and Mina.

Jiro [where’d you go??]

Mina [we miss you!1!]

Mina [okay, we’re looking for yuo]

Jiro [re3alyy where r u?]

“Oh shit,” you say, “my friends must have texted when we were in the closet.”

You [omggg just saw tghhese]

You [not dead]

Tipping your phone away from Bakugo, you add

You [hes so hott6t]

You [shuold i kiss himn?]

Mina [oooooooo]

Jiro [who.?]

You [image]

Jiro [no]

Jiro [defnitly not]

Mina [🚩🚩🚩]

Mina [babe, ur SLOPPY]

Jiro [is that a kitchen?? we’re otw!]

Jiro [dotn do anythng!!]

Abandoning your phone on the floor, your head droops back into his shoulder. He leans into you, pressing his cheek into your forehead. Taking the bottle from his hand, you sip idly - unable to feel the burn anymore. You wonder what it would be like to kiss him, gazing longingly at his lips that are now only inches away. 

“Blasty, you’ve been hiding [y/n] from us!” Mina’s voice fills the kitchen as your friends pile to the floor next to you, Kirishima in tow.

Jiro takes the bottle before grasping your hands and pulling you upright. “Hey, you alright?” she asks soothingly. 

“They’re fine,” Bakugo asserts, “and I didn’t hide shit. We’ve been here most of the night,” he yanks the tequila back from Jiro, polishing the bottle off in a final gulp. “All of you just suck at looking for people.”

“Come on man, get off the floor.” Kirishima urges, “let’s go kick everyone’s asses at beer pong!”

“We need to get up and go too,” Jiro adds as she and Mina collect your belongings. 

Staggering slightly, you follow your group out to the living room before everyone begins to part ways. 

“I’m gonna stay with them!” Mina whispers to you, “Eijiro will walk me home later,” she adds with a wink.

“Bye, have fun!” you hug her before turning to Jiro.

“Don't forget about tomorrow!” Bakugo yells over his shoulder, following his friends.

“One o'clock, I'll be there, ” you yell back, your words still slurring together.

“What’s tomorrow?” Jiro asks while guiding you out the door.

“School project we have to do,” you respond. 

“That makes more sense, but still. Maybe next time we go to a party you can find a boy to sit on the floor with who didn’t try to kill you earlier.” 

part 2

m.list

[sturniqlo]

Something You Aren't- C.S

summary: Y/n wants something serious with Chris, but Chris only likes the thought of having someone next to him.

cw: angst, cursing, crying, toxic!chris (he gets slapped)

an: based on this ask (i changed a few things tho), very short, honestly it's a blurb :/

masterlist

-----------------------------------------------

"Hey, where's Chris?" Y/n says, as she comes up the stairs from Chris' room. She had arrived about an hour ago, laying in Chris' bed as he gamed in his corner. However, while she was in the bathroom, Chris had left. "I actually don't know." Matt says from his spot on the couch. "Oh, well, I think I'm heading out. It's getting pretty late."

That encounter happened about a month ago. Things between Chris and Y/n only went downhill from there. Chris would leave to who knows where half of the time Y/n went to visit him. They were both messing around with each other for about five months at this point. The girl wanted something serious but, Chris didn't let that happen. He wanted to stay with his things were. So that he'd be able to do the things he was doing behind her back. At the end of the day, he had someone to go back to. He knew she wouldn't leave him, she was in to deep. Or so he thought.

When Chris would leave randomly, she was always embarrassed to walk up the stairs to retrieve her stuff and walk past his brothers. They always gave her a smile of pity. She hated it. But, she never left him. Until, she found out what he was doing.

"Hey, where are you? I thought you were coming over?" She says into her phone. In the background she can hear loud music and people talking. "I got caught up in the meeting." Chris says unbothered. "A meeting? You mean a party." She scoffs. "Do you not believe me?" He defends himself. "Just- nevermind. I'll see you another day." Y/n hangs up the phone and sighs in defeat. Trying to not let her tears fall. She angrily gets up off of her couch and goes straight to her kitchen. She had spent hours making them a dinner and baking treats only for Chris to go to a fucking party.

Grabbing what was supposed to be Chris' plate she goes to the trash and scrapes off the food into the garbage. "Asshole." She mutters. Going to her sink she places the glass plate down gently. She decides to eat dinner later. Y/n changes into some comfy clothes and heads to her bed to scroll for a while. Opening instagram, she sees one of her mutual friends she has with Chris posted something on their story.

It shows their friend and a couple of people taking shots. However, in the corner, she spots a bright light blue hoodie that belongs to Chris. She replays it and sees that he's coming out of a room with a blonde girl fixing her smudged lipstick and fixing her excuse of a skirt and Chris fixes his pants and runs a hand through his hair. It was posted an hour ago.

Y/n begins to sob. How could he? She knew he wasn't ready to commit, the reasons? She didn't know. But now she did. He wanted to be a 'single' man. He wanted to fuck other girls. She now knew that Chris never broke it off with her because he knew that she was too attached to him and wouldn't leave his side.

Suddenly her doorbell rings. Rubbing her tears she goes out and opens it only to reveal Chris in the same hoodie as the video. "Leave." She says, not letting him speak a word. "Hello to you too. Why you cryin'?" He lets himself in closing the door and gently grabs her chin to kiss her. As his lips touch hers she nearly gives in, nearly. "No, stop it! You don't get to kiss me!" She leans away and pushes his face away. "What wrong with you tonight? Thought you wanted to have a date night here." Chris argues. "You don't think I don't notice those hickies on your fucking neck? That lipstick on your mouth? The fact that you reek of cheap perfume? I know you're fucking other bitches behind my back."

Chris' face drops but, he tries to play it off. "What are you talking about?" He suddenly feels a sting on his left cheek. "Fuck you, Chris! We're done! I'm done following you around like a fucking puppy! I'm tired of the lies! If you didn't want to commit to me you should've let me go instead of having sex with god know how many other girls."

"You're being a fucking baby! Childish, even. We're not together, okay? We're fuck buddies." Y/n only grows angrier. "Really?" She pathetically laughs. "Seems like you have many fuck buddies then. I guess losing one won't hurt right? Because I'm done with you. Get out of my house." She tries to stay calm. "Don't be like that, Y/n. I'm sure you've fucked other guys too." Y/n moves behind him and opens her front door. "Leave." She makes eye contact with him and sees he grows furious. He walks out the door and grabs the door knob and slams the door behind him.

All Y/n can do is lock her door and slide her back down burying her head in her knees.

It had been two weeks since they both saw each other. Chris grew antsy at the fact that Y/n wasn't answering her calls or texts. He thought she would eventually break the silence and come running back but, he was wrong. Both Matt and Nick had noticed that Y/n hasn't been over their house in well over two weeks. They questioned Chris about it and all he told them was 'she'll come around.' During his alone time in his room, he missed her. Although he never admitted it out loud, he missed her so much.

Over the two weeks, he had realized that what he did to her was wrong. He betrayed her trust and he hates himself for it. She was someone he's never had in life ever. She's the most kind, loving, and caring person ever. And he took her for granted.

He grew impatient. Tonight, he grabbed his home keys, phone and wallet and walked to her home which was a fifteen minute walk. He had texted her but, like always she didn't answer. Walking to her house, he thought of all of the possibilities that could happen. She could forgive him and they can return to normal again, or she could slap him again and tell him to get out of her life and not want to do anything with him ever again.

Knocking on her door, he waits a few minutes before he hears the door unlocking. "Chris- what are you doing here." Y/n opens the door and sees him. Chris takes in her appearance, her hair is in a messy bun, and she's wearing her lounging clothes. Something she always wore around him. "You've been ignoring me." He says lowly. "Didn't I tell you we're done?" She scoffs, opening the door more so she can stand in the doorway. "Baby, you can't mean that. I'm sorry, ma." Chris says, going to take her hands in his but she moves them behind her back. His heart breaks.

"Chris, I- I can't do this right now. I don't care how sorry you are. I'm sorry you just noticed how you've been towards me. But, I want something serious. And you're not ready for that, maybe you don't even want that. I want someone who loves me for me. Someone who won't go behind my back and sleep with other people, knowing that I'm waiting for them back at their home. I really did like you, Chris. So much. So fucking much. But what you did to me is so unforgivable. Maybe you don't understand where I'm coming from. But, I just can't be with you, if you're going to be like this." Chris can only listen and feel his heart pounding against his rib cage. "Y/n." He whispers.

"I think you should go." She whispers, trying to blink her tears away. "Y/n, please. I- I love you." Her tears escape her eyes. "Chris, no. You don't. You love the idea that I was always there for you no matter what after you came back from who knows where. You love that I would always follow you around, no matter how long it had been since you've spoken a word to me. You love that we would always go back to normal after fighting. But, you don't love me. You don't. You only love the things that benefit you that come from me. And I don't want that." Chris feels a lump forming in his throat after hearing her words. "Just go, please." She pleads, not looking at him.

"Okay, okay, I'll go. I'm sorry for everything. I'm sorry I can't be who you want me to be."

[icannotpickanamewtf]

The Day The Music Died (Part One)

(PART TWO)

Sooo...you meet spot and introduce your little world <33but you might know a little more than you are leading on? If you spoke up a little more...maybe others would know?

You remember seeing a man dressed in dark blue and red with a large S on his chest soaring through the sky. 

He looked free. You thought absentmindedly as you walked through the busy New York crowds. 

Some nauseating feeling bubbled inside of your gut. You wished you could touch the clouds like he could. 

Maybe then you wouldn’t feel so trapped.

One foot after another, you made your way through a dark alley to stop in front of a quaint coffee shop. 

The rats scattered beneath your feet and garbage decorated the shadows. The brick was dusty from age and the sound of horns honking and people walking became white noise as you reached for the door knob to the shop.

“Collin’s Coffee.”

Best fucking gig you’ve got going right now. 

You wondered if that Spider-Guy worked a normal job like you did. 

The thought of seeing a man dressed in clad spandex taking orders made you let out a soft chuckle as you ducked into the comforting atmosphere of the shop.

It gave the radiance of a library in Hognorts with the walls dripping with mounts of knowledge and books. The actual walls themselves had a sharp red brick hidden behind the shelves and posters.

Plants grew from the ceiling and succulents were plotted on the ceramic countertop. 

You quickly removed your bag from your shoulders and placed it behind the counter while reaching for a navy apron. Rubbing your eyes harshly, you began to slowly wake up and soak in your surroundings. 

“Hey! How’s it going, kiddo?”

Mr. Parker. Collin Parker. The kind old man that ran the coffee shop semi-hopped to where you were meticulously placing pastries inside the display case. 

Most of the time, and in the most endearing way, he had more energy than a toddler. 

“Fine. You?” You weren’t the biggest fan of talking, but you would make an effort to check in with the old. They held a tiny soft spot in your heart. 

If you even had one.

“Good, good…just filling out some silly old paper-work. Don’t mind this old man.” Mr. Parker slowly hobbled his way back to his office, letting you finish adjusting the glass plates that presented little scones and croissants.

The front door slammed open as a clumsy pubescent boy stumbled through. 

“Sorry I’m a bit late! I swear I was just on my way but a guy decided to–“ 

Sigh. There goes that peaceful, delicious, quiet. 

“Ok.” You kept it short. Honestly, you couldn’t care less.

“–He was awwwwfulllll! Trust me, if you met a guy like him on the train you’d absolutely lose your mind.” 

You had already lost yours a while ago.

“K.” Your responses where getting impossibly shorter as a the kid rambled on as he found his way behind the counter. 

Peter Parker, estranged somehow related to Collin Parker. He had a good heart, but a huge fucking mouth for a fifteen-year old. His brown fluffy hair bounced as he waved his hands around  to accentuate the supposed “annoying man” he met on the train. 

Peter was a nerdy kid, and you appreciated the child-like joy (probably because he still was a child in your eyes) he carried but you would rather die than admit it. 

You saw him as a little, albeit annoying, brother. 

“You can stop now.” You prided yourself in your honesty, but always tried to tone it down to be a bit less brutal for Peter. 

“Oh–Oh okay, sorry–right, silence.”

He wasn’t going to be quiet for long, but that was okay, you knew how to just–push it away. 

 Anywho…what’s going on? Do you want me to man the counter today? I don’t know if I’m really up for it…you know how much it makes me anxious. I would! I really would but…ya’know. I just get all shaky and–“

Buzzing echoed in your ear as his endless chatter filled the café’s walls. 

“Go in the back. Do restock and phone orders.” Like he always did. 

Peter let out a breath in relief, his shoulders noticeably loosened.

As he awkwardly made his way to the back, almost slipping on the white tile that covered where you and him were standing behind the counter.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you! I won’t disappoint you! Trust me, I’ve gotten reallllyyy good at using the new toaster that I think I am a toasting god!–”

You don’t really care, but you let a tiny chuckle leave your chapped lips before you turned to face the front again. You didn’t have enough energy to really play it off with a smile, but it’s the effort that counts right? 

“Mk. Bye.” 

Peter quickly ducked into the back while slipping in his ear buds to get ready for a comforting day at work. When you started working here, you noticed how he looked up to you. Thinking you were…”cool.” 

It made you gag when you thought about it too much. 

The bell chimed and the first customer of the day came on in. 

“Welcome.” Your voice just barely tipped the ‘annoyed and exhausted but had to make some cash’ tone. 

You looked up at the strange figure that just entered. 

Ok…are you fucking kidding me?

His huge trench coat covered his shoulders as he stumbled in, not too unfamiliar as to Peter’s entrance. 

What made your eyes blink a little more than usual was the stark white skin that stretched over him head to toe. Dark little holes scattered his body and a pair of big sunglasses covered the top half of his face. 

Was that a fedora?

You just swiveled to make your own coffee. A plain, black, hot coffee. Free of charge, and one of the best things to come out of this job. 

Just as you were sliding on the sleeve, you quietly shuffled behind the counter as he coughed behind you. You were almost ignoring the weird customer as a whole. 

To be honest, you just couldn’t bring yourself to care.  

You couldn’t bring yourself to care about most things anymore.

Was that bad? 

Eh. Whatever.

You just busied yourself with minimal tasks like rearranging the pastries in the display or picking at the scabs that littered your fingers. 

The customer coughed again. 

“Do you have asthma? Want me to get you an inhaler?” 

Whoops. That might’ve come out a little to sarcastic. You were genuinely worried, ok? 

Maybe not that worried, but still. You didn’t mean it to come out like that. 

“No! I–I do not…Give me the cash in the register, now please!” 

Ohhhhh.

You were being robbed!

Wait. 

You were being robbed.

“Nah.” Your responses were curt and short as you took short sips from your coffee. 

You needed some caffeine ASAP. 

“Wha–?! There isn’t a ’No’ in this! Give me the cash, now! Please!” The weirdo came up to the counter and this time you noticed how fucking huge this guy was. 

He was probably 7 foot. 

Did he seriously say please? At least he had manners.

“No.” You shrugged and casually went back to what you were doing, but before you could turn fully and brush him aside, a pale white hand launched out and flipped you back. 

”Look at me.” Static rippled in his voice. 

Maybe–just maybe-you wanted to fuck with this guy a little by actively widening your eyelids so you could showcase how you were looking in every other direction except his. 

“Just–Just give me the cash. Or else I’ll…I’ll shoot!” He showed off his other hand as it pointed at you through his pocket. 

If you were dumb maybe you’d have believed him. 

If you didn’t have a certain…experience with guns maybe you’d have believed him. 

“What kinda gun is that?” 

You were starting to get a little impatient with this banter. What if Mr. Parker came out and the poor man went into cardiac arrest? What if Peter stopped listening to his shit music and did his job and saw you fighting with this guy? 

“It’s a pistol.” 

That was definitely not a fucking pistol. 

“No, it’s not.” You shook your head and ran your fingers through your hair. 

“How would you know, huh? What if it is?” Was he trying to be smug? 

“The closest thing that your abnormally large fingers look like would be a fucking Longslide Glock 17 with maybe 3 out of the 17 rounds loaded with your kinda confidence. Gotta say, it is lightweight, sturdy, good for beginners...” 

You were good at talking guns. 

Real fucking good at talking guns. 

It was probably the most you’ve said all day. 

The ghostly white ‘robber’ looked shocked, if you could tell by the way his shoulders recoiled. 

Stepping back he bashfully turned away. 

“I just need some cash, okay? That’s all…please. I’m really not good at this whole supervillain thing.” 

A little gun talk was all it took to break this guy? 

Oh well, it was fun while it lasted. 

You heard the front door bell chime and it broke you out of your thoughts.

“Nah. Maybe some other time. Bye.” 

You waved a little before setting your already cold coffee on the counter to prep yourself to take an <em> actual</em> order. 

“Do you even take me seriously! I am The Spot! I literally–I can travel through-- portals!” 

Unsurprisingly, you kinda got bored of this whole ‘supervillain charade.’ 

“Ok. Bye.” You shrugged him off to turn your attention to the new customer, locking eyes with them and insinuating for them to come up to the front. 

“What?!–I’ll show you! I’ll show all of you!” He angrily threw a–

was that one of his weird spot things?

Anyway, he threw a spot into an empty space in the shop and walked through it. 

Finally. You sighed as you took the customers order. 

….

And that, even if you didn’t know it at the time, was the end of your little world as you fucking knew it. 

[papermint-airplane]

How it started

How it's going

Ok put the phone down. I don't need to be 5150'd, I promise this is all totally normal. I don't post about my doll collecting on here much but I collect Barbies. Specifically, I collect Barbies with face sculpts that I like. I don't collect any one particular line (although Barbie Looks has stolen my heart and several of my dollars), I just collect whatever I find pretty.

I had this Tennis Barbie in my "body donor" stash since last year

because the Barbie Made to Move bodies have great articulation and make for great posing. I kinda just bought her on sale when she came out and had no plans for her until I saw this doll

who was just released and is the perfect skintone match. Gorgeous face + articulated body = beautiful poseable doll. What could go wrong?

Well. I actually wasn't planning on rerooting this doll. I mean sure, her hair is garbage quality, thin, feels awful, and has super choppy ends like a three year old with safety scissors got a hold of it, but I am chickenshit. I didn't want to run the risk of ruining a gorgeous doll because I've only ever rerooted one other doll in my life and I'm not that confident in my skills. I figured I'd just pop her head off, plop it on the tennis body, and call it a day. Her hair being garbage doesn't matter when I'm just posing her and putting her on a shelf, only taking her down to redress her or change her pose occasionally.

For all the normies out there, getting a doll's head off its body requires heat to make the vinyl squishy so you can slip it off the peg in the neck. Usually, you'd use hot or boiling water for this but since the hair was such trash, I was afraid to put it in boiling water. I was afraid it would melt.

Foreshadowing is a literary device-

I used a hairdryer instead.

And the fucking hair melted.

I have no idea what happened. I have used the hair dryer method to remove a doll's head before and everything went fine. Maybe I used too high of a setting. Maybe I held it too close to the doll. Or maybe Mattel cheaped out and used polypropylene instead of saran and it was doomed from the start. Or the fact that I'm an idiot once again reared its ugly head. Or all of the above factors came together in a perfect storm of ineptitude.

Regardless, I had no choice but to chop off all the factory hair and start over. My poor little doll is now sitting hairless and bodyless on my kitchen table waiting for her new (nylon!!!) hair to come in the mail from Shimmer Locks.

I'll post a picture of her with her hair all did when I...get it did.

The moral of the story is "don't trust Laura with anything".

[bunnyb34r]

Something I'll never understand is how apple elitists will find ANY excuse to bring up how they have [apple product] and you have [not apple product]

Like that annoying new guy that was in the breakroom and would not shut up (I get you're bored but it's 7am and we don't care), had walked past me and saw how small my phone is. It's not SMALL but it's not like the length and width of my hand, iPhones are like at least 1.5 the size now.

Anyway he was like "damn what kinda phone is that??" (Meaning what iphone is that) *sees the big SAMSUNG on the top "oh you got samsung. But I bet you USED to have an iphone before right?"

Why would you assume that?? That's such a fucking weird thing to say like unprompted to someone. And I was like no??? I've always had androids?? (And LG before smartphones lol) And it's like they always assume you didn't have a choice, and only got an android bc you couldnt get an iphone. Like no I think iPhones are pieces of garbage, I hate the way the app store works, and the only apple products I've ever had were ipod touches. I like being able to choose where my apps go and can download "non-approved" apps and shit. Bitch I CHOSE this phone bc I LIKE it. I only got my other phone (which IS iphone size) bc this one no longer gets service from the network I use. I use this one for everything but calls and texts, and my actual phone-phone for calls, texts, and sometimes youtube. I paid like $100 max for each phone, I ain't paying more than $150 for a phone that's gonna be slowed down by the company I bought it from in a planned obsolescence scheme to get me to drop another $500-$1000+ in a year or two.

But yeah apple superior you're right 🙄

[whoiwanttoday]

The world is often full of some inherent contradictions that make it hard to navigate. Experience is really the only compass we have, which is why in theory we should listen to our elders but in reality a lot of them have dementia and the truth is an experienced dipshit is still a dipshit, so if you are young you don't really have the experience to tell which else is wizened and which one is just old and bitter. Like drugs are a good example. I grew up in an era where we sure were told a lot about how bad drugs were. I remember this one PSA where it was a guy in profile and he started talking aobut trying pot and the top of his head turned to ash, then he did more drugs and more of him turned to ash and eventually he like died in a gutter and all ash and got blown away at the end. It's scary stuff but as you get older you see other people do drugs and they don't choke on their own vomit at all. Instead Jessica Miles makes out with them. It's not at all what the PSAs warned us about and you start to feel a little lied to when you realize drugs actually make you feel good and if you do them then people think that you're cool. Obviously, it takes time to know there are degrees to all of this. You can do all the lines of coke you want off of a computer desk at 7 AM while sitting in your underwear and writing about who you want to fuck today and pretty much no one will think that you're cool, so context still matters but it is one of those inherent things that meant I saw a lot of people swing too far one way and then the other in response to this sort of thing.

Anyway, I was thinking about this and how we can really vacillate too far one way or another and Anne Hathaway and Christopher Nolan. Nolan recently said he didn't know what the line meant, "You either die a hero or live long enough to become a villain" meant when he put it in the movie and I am with him there, like I kind of got it but it felt like a cumbersome line and no one had ever said that before so why did they act like it was a common saying. People say it now though and boy does it resonate as we as a culture turn on things and people. Anne Hathaway said in an interview about how hard it was when the internet turned on her. I remember that. I never quite got it but I was told it was because I wanted to fuck her so I was blinded to what a monster she is I guess. I'd love to counter this claim but my dating history makes it pretty clear that this is entirely possible. Anyway, I don't want to discount the possibility that Anne Hathaway is a monster but the truth is none of us know. She's certainly not our friend and I am willing to believe I would find most celebrities unbearable in person. This is just because they live in a world where they are surrounded by people who makes sure they know they are the center of the universe and I don't really know how that doesn't turn someone into an asshole. Like I have a ZZ Plant in my kitchen named Spencer. He's named Spencer because someone once told me plants are supposed to have names so I named him Spencer. Then they told me that's a stupid name and I said, "You're mom's stupid". We both laughed like it was a joke but I kept the name Spencer just to tweak her and I hope deep down my witty comeback still haunts her when she can't sleep. Anyway, my point is I don't particularly care about Spencer's feelings or if he even thinks Spencer is a good name. I water him when the notification comes up on my phone and otherwise kind of ignore him. What I am saying is lots of plants might think I am an asshole because I consider myself to be far above them and they might be right but Spencer is the only plant here so those other plants are just guessing. So Anne Hathaway might treat people like garbage or just sort of not think about them because she is supporting them and watering them but I don't know. So the idea that celebrities are someone to lionize or vilify is kind of weird but I think about my friends now who give their kids lectures on drugs when I fucking saw you rolling at foam parties and pretty much groping anyone who would let you. We aren't great at inbetweens. So like, sorry Anne Hathaway went through that but it's kind of just how people work. I had a point here but I lost it, I was too caught up laughing about how much it probably burns that I named my plant Spencer and got off a sick Mom joke on someone 4 years ago. I guess my core point is today I want to fuck Anne Hathaway.

[ofbluesandyellows]

Committed to the Cause - TASM! Peter Parker / Fem! Reader

Summary: Spider-Man gets injured in battle, he accidentally crashes into you and his hero complex comes into action. As he tries his best to redeem himself he can’t find a way out from the guilt and unbidden feelings.

Word count: 5,321

Warnings: mentions of blood, injuries, swear words, grief.

a/n: Hi! It’s me again, here I bring a story I started writing almost a year ago but i kind of forgot it existed until like four months ago. It’s a tasm! one, hope you like it! I divided it in 3 parts because it is a bit long so yeah, have fun :)

Part 1

Peter Parker sat down near Gwen Stacy’s grave, the sky was evenly gray and the cool air swirled around making the snowflakes dance away and float around. It’s been only a week since he came back to his universe. 

“I wonder how Peter 2 and Peter 1 are doing right now.” He whispered to Gwen, while his fingers brushed through the colorful daisies he bought for her. “I’m Peter 3 you know? I guess 3 is just the best number,” he shrugged remembering the chaos of that night around his brothers from another universe, literally. 

“Honestly Gwen, if you only could’ve seen them—see us. They were truly amazing, and the way we all connected and then we were shooting webs, the synchronicity that I experienced— I never had that. It was as if we could read each other’s minds and wow—it was fucking cool.“

Peter sighed, a hue of vapor escaped his lips. “I bet you saw it though, how I saved MJ? Peter 1’s girlfriend, I did what I couldn’t do for you Gwen. I’m sorry, I'll always be sorry for that.”

Adjusting his beanie tighter to his head when a sudden wave of wind made his skin form goosebumps. Deep in his heart he could feel that Gwen was actually listening to his banter, that this was her way of telling him that things were okay between the two. 

Peter went to see Gwen every week, she was the love of his life, he was certain of it. But the truth was that Peter had lost all hope on love after Gwen.

He’d be lying if he denied the fact that he had found himself thinking of what Peter 2 said to him; that things worked out fine eventually in the love department, it put the seed of curiosity in him, what if things actually changed for him, in his heart, and he could finally let Gwen rest. He was clinging to her memory like a life jacket, if he let go he would drown, he would lose himself to the darkness. 

His phone buzzed as a message showed him a text of the police department trying to contact Spider-Man. 

“Gotta go Gwen, I’ll see you next week. Love you so much.” He put a kiss on his palm to then let it linger on her tombstone. 

In a hidden part of an alley he put his mask on, he had to put his stuff between some garbage bags so people wouldn’t steal it, there wasn’t much to steal there, still he plastered it with web fluid, a force of habit. He swung between tall buildings and across streets, hearing sudden gasps and shouts announcing his presence in the city. It was funny how things had actually changed for him in the span of years; The Daily Bugle seemed to stop with the nasty propaganda; he was now on good terms with the police, he also had free health insurance thanks to the police department and he was doing well financially. Stark Industries was a place he never thought he would find a spot to fit in, to do the research he felt drawn to.

There were big threats still in New York but Peter didn’t feel that dread whenever he fought, the constant fear of losing someone he loved, those being the benefits of being alone, but how alone could you be to start missing the company of a partner after years of being lonesome?

Spider-Man quickly solved the robbery near the upper east side, it wasn’t a major thing, the thieves got webbed and delivered to the detectives, he got a bullet wound in his shoulder but nothing some tweezers, neosporin and a bandage couldn’t solve. Peter was even able to do so by himself now: the perks of being alone.

Peter had received several injuries and even more deeper wounds than the one he had on his shoulder but this one time as he shoot a strand of web coming from his right arm—the wounded one—his arm didn’t find it easy to carry his weight, and he was feeling somewhat dizzy, he thought it was the blood lose, because he hadn’t received a kick to the head nor anywhere his body could react the way it was doing now. He found himself screaming as he fell from a twenty four storage building. 

“Watch out! Spider down!” 

His instincts shouted at him to use his other web shooter, he did so, but Peter was being a little clumsy today. Slow motion turned on in his brain. The web-thread splashed on the building in front of him, but the height wasn’t enough to make him swing by without any implications. The chime of a bicycle bell was his only warning. After that he felt the clash of his body against something warm and then he rolled on the cold concrete. 

That was embarrassing. People screamed and sooner than what Spider-Man could recover, people were surrounding him to help him get up. 

“I’m fine, don’t worry.” He spoke under the mask, his shoulder throbbing with every move.

It took him a few seconds to register what just happened. He saw a mint green bike with a twisted handlebar, a bunch of flowers scattered and crushed on the ground and then panic started to bubble in his chest. A girl—a young woman was sitting on the wet asphalt, a few people were kneeling by her side as she held her arm against her chest.

Spider-Man ran to her side, pushing the pedestrians lightly. Squatting down, his eyes scanning her, a scrape on her cheek and forehead on the same side of what he guessed was an injured arm.

“I am so sorry, I swear this isn’t me, I mean it is me but I don’t know what happened I don’t— are you alright? Can I help you with anything?” 

The woman had pools of tears on the rim of her eyes, she was holding them in, because that was just humiliating, she was late for the delivery and now she had lost the bouquets and she didn’t dare to accuse The Spider-Man of her bad luck. The day was not a good one since the start. This was the ultimate confirmation.

“No, Spider-Man… sir, It’s not your fault, I just, I think I broke my arm.” She was barely able to pronounce the words, she was in terrible pain, how could she know?

“Oh, let me see.” Peter gulped under the mask, his stomach churning. He had broken the woman’s arm, this was bad. Taking her elbow she winced, tears finally slipped down her cheeks, shit. “Ms. I need to take you to the hospital.”

“No, no I have work, I can't go to the hospital now.” He saw the panic take over her features. 

“It’s the least I could do. I caused this, please let me do something.” 

Guilt was eating him alive, the more time he spent there with all the witnesses watching and telling her she should take Spider-Man’s word. 

She felt a little hazy on the head, like when you take a pill to not get dizzy on a long road trip, and everything starts to lose sense, sounds muffling. She shook her head trying to keep the masked hero away, she had to work, she needed to gather the flowers and—

“Ms.?” Spider-Man felt panic, a rush of blood like his spider senses were going off. 

Her eyes rolled backwards and she went limp on his arms. 

“No, no, no.” he mumbled, taking her in his arms he did what he could to swing through the city to reach the nearest hospital.

People, nurses, doctors, they all came to a halt when they saw Spider-Man arrive carrying a woman on his arms, this was quite the scene Peter could imagine but he was not able to think straight not when he had hurt someone—by mere accident that was true, yet the guilt was so heavy he felt like he could cry under the mask.

“I need help please!” He shouted and as if he had broken a curse, nurses and doctors moved again, some of them walking towards him.

“What happened?” a nurse asked as they started moving him to a nearby stretcher.

“uh, I… she had an accident on her bike and I think her arm is broken and she has a concussion or something I’m not sure.”

The nurse nodded as they put oxygen on the girl quickly moving her to the ER. Peter followed them until someone stopped him. “Sorry man, you can’t come in.”

“Oh, yeah ok. I’ll just wait.” 

“You need to get yourself fixed too.” The same nurse told him, pointing to his shoulder. “You’re ruining the floor.” 

Peter’s eyes looked down and there, from his shoulder all the way down to his finger tips a thread of blood was dripping down, leaving crimson drops on the floor.

“Sorry,” 

A minute later another nurse got to him and made him follow her into a room.

“We know you can’t reveal your identity and if people keep on seeing you out there they’re gonna start asking questions and it’s gonna be messy. So mister Spider-Man can you take off your suit? The mask can stay on, I need to clean that.”

Peter was a bit shocked still and maybe the blood loss was not helping so he nodded, his suit landed at his feet in a pool or red and blue, at least he was wearing a nice pair of boxers.

“I recommend you to come back later, you will only cause drama here, mister Spider-Man”

The nurse said and Peter just watched her work.

He was good as new in no time. His head felt light still but he managed to swing back to where he put his belongings in that alley. With the last bits of adrenalin still in him, he swung back to May’s, he sat on his old bed, suit on, mask off. The uneasiness he felt in his chest was suffocating. Why did he leave the hospital then? He couldn’t be at peace now. And why did he end up at May’s when he had his own apartment in Manhattan?

Maybe his injury affected his brain, his eyes checked his shoulder and the little wound was almost closed, thank goodness for fast healing but what about those who didn’t have that… What about the girl?

He wanted to make sure the girl he hurt was okay, it was an obvious statement. Yet he couldn’t go as Peter because he didn’t know anything about her and ugh, he grunted against his hands. Then he could go as Spider-Man. He knew the nurses would let him in if he asked kindly. However, he was scared of the reaction of the girl, what would she think of him of his idiocy. Spider-Man was not known for hurting pedestrians, he was supposed to save them not harm them.

His phone chimed from inside his backpack, Peter was on a streak of bad luck.

The news on his mistake quickly spread, he shook his head reading the article The Bugle had just released, how were they so fast? He wondered as his messages continued to pop up, Jonah Jameson wanted photos of Spider-Man, Peter’s former boss couldn’t let the other news sites win the exclusive so when it came to Spider-Man he still contacted Peter for exclusive photos, and Peter delivered, just because the news always made him look nice, but not this time.

Peter groaned even louder, this was not how he planned his day to go. Whenever he visited Gwen he usually had the best experiences afterwards, once he found a fifty dollar bill on the subway, just lying there on a seat, and then there was this other time where he got a free coffee because the owner proposed to her girlfriend and the drinks were free. 

But that luck seemed to be long gone. 

“Peter, are you in there?”

Peter’s heart jumped, he didn’t know May was home. “Yes it’s me, May!”

“Are you okay?"

“Um, yeah. I just got work to do and you know me… I’m complaining.”

“With the amount of hours you work I’d complain too. Are you heading out? I need you to bring me some bread and milk, are you staying the night, right?”

“Yeah, sure, May. Why not! Are you working today?” 

“Yes, but the car is at the mechanic,” Shit, Peter totally forgot about that, he made a mental note to give May some money to get that car fixed.

“At what time you’re off?” he asked, putting a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie on. “Do you want me to pick you up?” he said, opening the door.

May shook her head, a sweet smile on her face, “No, Peter. Jamie, my coworker is driving me back, you’re fine. Just don’t come back too late okay.”

Her hand caressed Peter’s cheek, making his anxious body feel slightly better. He gave her palm a light kiss and nodded. “Of course not May, when have I been late for our weekly dinners?” 

He let out a chuckle watching May drop her hand as she rolled her eyes, she shook her head and with a tired sigh she only added. “Don’t forget the bread and milk!”

“I won’t!” 

His smile dropped once he heard his phone buzz again. Plopping on the bed, with furrowed eyebrows, and a guilty mind, he took the decision he guessed was the most appropriate, maybe was a little over the top either way his hazy mind was calling the shots for the day. 

He found himself crawling up the walls of the hospital at night, after finding the girl’s room. Spider-Man found a way in, the windows were tiny but not too tiny to not let him sneak his body inside. Crazy, he knew, he had no other option.

Seemed like none of her family members got informed because no one was there making her company. Peter felt even worse. Gulping, he took a step closer to her bed, she was sleeping. It gave him enough time to assess the damages he caused. She had butterfly closures on her forehead, her lips were chapped and her arm was in a cast resting on her stomach. Her face was resting on the pillow in a weird angle almost over her left shoulder. 

The IV made a rhythmic noise with each drop, the monitors were checking her heart rate. Somehow seeing her like that made the guilt and worry grow, Peter wanted to fix this.

His eyes landed on a clipboard over a table at the feet of the bed. He grabbed it and checked every detail. Name y/n, heart skipped a beat, now her face had a name. You were a year younger than him, you had health insurance, well that was something good he could cross from the list of his doing wrongs.

No concussions, no internal bleeding, you had surgery on your broken arm, Peter winced, the radius broke in two and now you were half a robot with the pins and rods attaching your bone together. That definitely was not helping Peter feel better. 

“Shit,” he mumbled, placing the clipboard back down. His hands were up to his head. 

When his eyes found your face you were looking at him, with wide eyes and parted lips, Peter felt his soul leaving his body. 

“Jesus fuck!” He gasped a hand on his chest. “You scared me,”

“I—um sorry? I’m, what… how did you get in?”

His hands went to his hips and shrugged. “Through the bathroom window.”

“Why?” you tried to reincorporate on the bed but whined when you moved your arm, like you forgot you had it in a cast.

“Because there was no other way to get in,” 

“But there’s a door there,” you pointed with your head. “It’s easier,”

Peter furrowed, you were not able to see him. He sighed. “Yeah, I know that. But it’s the anonymity of the visit that I want to keep… anonymous.” 

What was he saying now!

He shook his head. “Um, how are you feeling?”

You scoffed, Peter deserved that disdain. “Like shit, well not as bad because I’m on medication but still not great with a useless arm.” 

The casted one got up as if to show him, he nodded. Taking a step closer, his hands grasped the plastic railing at the feet of the bed. 

“I can imagine— I owe you an apology, I wasn’t feeling too well and it wasn’t my intention to hurt you… or anyone. I don’t do that, you know? Goes against the hero thing.”

Your eyes were shining either for the low lights coming from outside or because you were on very strong medications, Peter couldn’t tell, what he saw was a little smile on your lips.

“I suppose it’s not on the hero policy… It's fine Spider-Man, sir.”

Peter chuckled. “Spider-Man it’s fine, I’m not as old as you may think I am.”

You cocked an eyebrow. “Really? I thought you were like thirty five or something.” 

“Ouch, I… hmm no, no I—listen. I'm gonna tell you this because I think I owe you something so I’ll answer this one concern of yours, I'm around your age. So think twice before calling me old again, young lady.”

Now he saw a full smile blossom in your face, it made him feel better, a lightness finally reaching his sore shoulders.

“Um okay,” you laid deeper on your pillow, a smile still tugging at the corner of your lips.

Peter felt suddenly so overly conscious of his body and presence in front of you in a dark room, the darkness was helping but he felt your eyes on him as he paced around.

“Do you know how many days you are gonna be here?” he asked.

“I have no idea, I woke up surrounded by people, then I passed out when the nurse extended my arm and woke up like two hours ago to go pee and then fell asleep and then you were here.”

“That bad huh?” Peter crossed his arms as he leaned his back on the wall right in front of you.

“The pain was bad, but now it’s light. I do feel like I’m in a cloud when I don’t move.”

“That must be nice,” his back cracked unbidden.

“That, on the other hand, sounds bad… Are you better now? or why did you crash into me?” 

Peter blinked, scratched his forehead and watched you, you looked tiny and sleepy.

“I got a bullet wound right here,” he touched his clavicle. “Lost blood and that’s when I accidentally crashed into you I was feeling dizzy, but yes I am better now.”

“I see… well, at least you are not in risk of losing your job,”

Peter straightened, a knot in his throat. “You lost your job? because of me?”

You bit the inside of your cheek, making his agony longer.

“Not really, just my weekly payment. My dad’s the owner so he wouldn't fire me, but still he didn’t even come see me, so” you shrugged. “you’re all good Spider-Man.”

“Hmm for what it’s worth I am truly sorry and I want to make it up to you, so if you need anything, really I am here for you.” Peter walked to your side, his hand lingered over your shoulder, debating himself if the touch would be too much.

“I don’t think I need anything, but thank you.” you were blinking more often, heavier.

“Are you sure?” his hand dropped by his side, forming a fist. 

He wanted you to ask him a favor he wanted to feel useful, to prove to you he was good and not an asshole.

Your eyes grew big for a moment. “Wait, there is something… but I don’t think it’s safe,”

Peter clasped his hands together. “I’ll do it, what is it? I mean I’m Spider-Man, if something is not safe I am your guy, I do unsafe things for free all the time.”

“Hmm… right, okay yeah. I mean it’s not safe for me but why not, what else could happen to me, right?” 

You laughed, Peter grimaced, fair enough.

“My dog, I have a little dog and he hasn’t been fed since I left this morning so… I mean if you don’t have any crime to fight right now, would you feed him?” 

And his heart melted, maybe because you looked very worried and the way you were observing him made his chest flutter. 

“Yeah, of course. I love dogs, I can do that, easy peasy. You got it!” 

You grinned at him, teeth and sparkly eyes, Peter felt weird. 

He let you explain how much food he had to put on his plate, and to refill his water bowl as well, to not step on his little grass square where he peed and to leave the window just ajar for the air to circulate.

And at the end you gave him your address, hesitation still on your voice, but Peter promised you he was going in and out fast. 

“I’ll check on you later okay?” Spider-Man said, as he walked to the bathroom.

You nodded, giving him a lipped smile. “You can use the door,”

“Nah, not my style… see ya later y/n.” 

Peter struggled to get out, it wasn’t as easy as getting in. He considered using the door next time. 

Your apartment was small, not too small but it wasn’t big as in rich family kind of big. But it was small as in cozy. Your dog, Percy, was barking at him as he entered through your room’s window. It smelled like coconut, he sighed. 

When he opened the door to reveal the hall leading to the living room, Percy jumped at his legs, looking at him with curiosity, and the barking resumed. Peter started petting him on his tiny head and as soon as Peter reached his bag of food, Percy sat at his feet. 

“Oh good boy!” He scratched tiny Percy on the back of his ear.  “Okay, Percy, show me your bowl…”

It surprised Peter to see Percy run from the kitchen to the spot dedicated to the little Yorkiepoo, two bowls rested side by side on a corner as his bed was placed right beside the largest couch in the room. Toys were scattered around and Peter smiled.

“Okay so your kind owner said half a cup and two treats, right?” Percy tilted his head, Peter laughed. “You are too cute”

The bowls got filled with the respective things and as Percy ate throwing Spider-Man curious looks, Peter roamed around the room. His mask forgotten on the couch. You were messy but not too messy, your apartment was clean and you had flowers everywhere. A big vase of daisies in your bedroom. Another one with lavender carnations and purple monte casinos, it made your house smell fresh. He watched a photo of you with friends and he noticed how different you looked, dressed up in casual clothes, hair brushed and yes, without a cast on the arm. 

You were pretty, he noticed, how your hair fell over your shoulders and your eyes were big and sparkly. Maybe your eyes were always shining. 

A bark took him out of the trance, Percy was at his feet again looking up to him. Peter squatted down and patted the dog, until the latter laid on his back showing Peter his chubby belly.

“You want me to scratch your belly? Okay, but just once because I have to go, still need to go buy some stuff you know? I need to fight bad guys and do groceries, not like you!” he kept on scratching until Percy moved his back legs as if he wanted to scratch himself. “Look at you, living your best life.” 

With a sigh, Peter stood up. Ready to go back to his life, this has been a nice way to stop for a second but for him there were not many breaks. 

A flick of a wrist, the window slid open a little, he gathered his web with his hand so Percy wouldn’t eat it, put his mask on and jumped off the balcony window.

Spider-Man had a busy night, some guys robbed a few trucks with chemicals inside that ended with an explosion on a dock. He felt a bruise forming on his back and arms, but he managed to get out of there, leaving the robbers webbed onto a wall of a building, the police and the firemen arrived in time for him to take a minute to recover from the smoke and the harsh hits his body received. 

He filled in the police with the information and as the sun emerged, the warm sun beams calmed the pain and the coolness of his bones as he made his way back to the hospital.

Spider-Man was not in condition to sneak in through the smallest window in the room, so he entered through the emergency exit and took the elevator. People threw him furtive looks, a kid hugging his mom’s arm had his eyes glued to him, so he did what any other person would do, Peter waved at him and the kid beamed. With excuses and hand gestures Peter sighed, exiting the elevator, no nurses were around but once he entered your room, he got surprised by the one nurse who had received you a day before.

“Oh mister Spider-Man, good to see you.” She smiled at him and Peter saluted her as she made her way to the door. “She is ready to go,” she winked at him and Peter knitted his brows together.

His eyes landed on you, gathering your stuff in a tote bag as best as you could, your left arm was not as trained as the right, he noticed.

“Hey!” he said, waving at you.

You nodded. “Would you help me?” 

“Sure,” Peter opened the bag and you literally threw everything in.

“Thanks… how was your night?” you asked, dark circles around your eyes.

Peter shrugged, regretting it instantly as his muscles complained. “Nothing out of the ordinary. What about you?”

You sat down on the bed. “I feel weird, but okay I guess.”

“Are you walking home?” 

“Nope, got to go see how work is doing and then I’ll go home.”

Peter nodded, well… this must be it then. “Percy is a cute dog, very well behaved.”

It made you smile, hence Peter did so too. “He is… thank you by the way, for checking on him and for coming by too. You didn’t have to but you did anyway.”

Peter felt a flush and warmth coming for his cheeks. “Nah, it’s nothing. As I said I owed you so it was the least I could do, really. I’m glad you are okay, sorry for the arm though.”

Peter smiled even if you couldn’t see.

“Well, it was fun to see the famous Spider-Man up close. No offense but hope this is the last time,”

“Ouch, no, yeah I get it, hope that too. Don’t get in trouble, okay?”

“You got it spidey.” 

You looked at your feet and the whole mood in the room felt weird, so Peter knew this was his cue. 

“I’m gonna go now, need a bit of rest after a long night. See you… well… yeah whatever, bye y/n.”

He heard you chuckle, Peter shook his head feeling a bit dumb, closing the door at his back he made his way out the hospital. 

When he got back to May's, he came to the realization that he didn’t buy the bread nor the milk, May made sure to remind him.

“PETER!”

“I’m on it, May! Sorry!” 

•••

Peter was late for his date, his date with Gwen. He fell asleep on the subway and now he had to swing all the way back to get her weekly bouquet.

The place where he always bought flowers was closed, mumbling obscenities as he crossed the street. 

How funny was that only half a block down another flower shop was open.

He bought flowers only for Gwen and for May’s birthday, so he didn’t know much about them other than the classic red roses for his aunt and the colorful daisies for Gwen. His jaw almost hit the floor seeing the flowers on display, buckets of color and the smell so fresh and so sweet and so magical.

After a second of admiring the shop he went to the desk where a guy was wrapping pink roses for a woman. He gave him a lipped smile which Peter replied with a nod.

“How much for a small bouquet of daisies?” 

The guy waved to the woman and put all his attention on Peter. “What kind?” 

“Um.. normal? I don’t know.”

The guy looked at him funny. “We have pink daisies, african, chicory, fire wheel, gerberas, japanese…”

“Just the cheapest bouquet you can give me.” 

Peter was late and he was not in the mood to know the kinds of flowers. He also forgot his wallet and now he had like ten dollars to survive the day.

“Okay…” the guy shook his head. “Y/n,”

Peter’s heart skipped a beat.

Suddenly you appeared from a door he hadn't noticed until now, cast still on, but you looked healthier. 

“What?!” 

“Price for a bouquet of daisies…”

“What kind?” you sounded exasperated.

“Cheap,” the guy said in a tone that made Peter want to roll his eyes.

You squinted at the guy and Peter almost laughed. “Umm… eight dollars.” You finally looked at Peter.

Peter felt naked without the mask, and even if it was a crazy idea that he would deny later on the day, he, deep inside, was hoping you’d recognize him.

“Uh, um yeah that’s okay.” Peter spoke, a little choked.

“What colors do you want?” you asked him.

“All of them?”

It made you smile. “Nice.”

And you disappeared through the door, Peter let out the trapped air in his lungs.

The guy was just staring at him weirdly. “cash or card?”

“Cash,”

“Of course.” 

Peter furrowed his eyebrows, offended. “Whatever man, I don’t want anything, thanks.”

Peter came out of the store mad, upset, shocked and disappointed. Crossing the street he tried to look for another flower shop. He didn't care he was late anymore, Gwen was a priority and he shouldn’t feel this shitty prior to his date.

“Hey, hey… dude..”

He heard and looked over his shoulder, you were running towards him, a bouquet in hand, cheeks red and no coat on. Were you crazy or what?

Peter stopped and waved his hands to stop you.

“You forgot your flowers!” you said, a hue of vapor came out of your lips.

“I didn't pay for them,”

“I know,” you looked embarrassed. “Sorry about Jerry, he's a little bitch, here take them! They’re on the house.”

Peter’s eyes went from your eyes to the happy perky daisies on your hand.

“I will follow you around until you take them.” You grinned. “Go on.”

Peter with a little smirk on her lips, sighed. “Just because you have no coat on and it’s freezing… Thank you.”

“It’s my pleasure, have a nice day.”

Your smile made him feel funny inside. “Yeah you too.”

Pivoting on your post you made your way back, Peter stood there perched, waiting for you to get inside the shop again, his cheeks went fully red when you looked back at him and smiled.

“No,” he simply said, shaking his head making his way to see Gwen.

Part 2 - Part 3

[totheidiot]

why i would be the avatar of the following entities

post heavily inspired by the wonderful mutual who is @cult-of-the-eye ❤️ i missed the entities who i couldn't figure out what my connection to would be. the list is in alphabetical order for organisation. a few heavy topics ahead? but i try not to get too detailed with it. post is basically my connection to the fear entities and correlating my life experiences with them.

one. the corruption : i kid you not, if i was actually an avatar, this is who i would be. without a single doubt. let's see, not to going to get too in depth, but my best friend died of dengue a while back ya da ya da ya da after she died, i fell in love with her. disease. love. fucked up stuff. you get it.

two. the desolation : there was a fire they would burn outside my old school, to burn garbage and all of that. after a particularly difficult day at school, i would always walk over there and sit myself near the fire, just stare at it. sometimes i would burn little things like paper when i was feeling very angry. that pit of fire was a friend and i had liked to watch it burn. also self-destructive behaviour.

three. the end : refer to the corruption bits. my best friend's fate would tie into the end for me. also, my most major fear, ever since i knew about the concept of having a fear, was the fear of losing loved ones. so.

four. the extinction : okay, so last year, i believe, a thing happened in my city in bangladesh. for a night, the power of the entire city shut down. no electricity in any household, the generator was shut off, not even cellular data was working. so i am talking, no lights, no internet, not even a way to call by phone. load shedding, we had to use candles. it was a weekday night too, streetlights weren't working properly and there was no way for my father to contact us to tell us that he was safe. my mother thought that the prime minister had left the country for us to suffer. pure chaos. basic technology would not work, ovens and refrigerators needed an electrical connection obv and phones were useless. i was talking about this event and the post with my sister the other day and she suggested to add this to the dark, because no light but i feel like it fits the extinction way better for reasons i cannot formulate.

five. the eye : quiet, perceptive friend who just looks odd. you know the type, that was me. i was obsessed with gathering knowledge, i had a random fun fact for every subject. i prided myself with knowing a little about everything. furthermore, i have got this uncanny ability to just Know people's secrets?? okay suppose, my friend has a secret and she's hiding something from everyone. like it's a totally small thing, she likes someone but she doesn't want anyone to know. chances are, i will know. whether it's by observing their body language or thinking it over or just lucky guess, i will know. and the thing is, i will pretend not to know too. girl decided to tell us about that crush i will act shocked like everyone else, for no reason and then i'll go up to them in private and be like, "hey, i knew it. i guessed it last week."

i don't have anything for the meat related fears (fortunately?)

six. the lonely : *puts on a presentation on why i should be a lonely avatar and goes to the first slide* your boy has Social Anxiety. but in all seriousness, isolation, loneliness, it's all second nature to me. i get bothered when people are with me and even then, it feels like they are not? like people will be talking near me and it would feel like i am not even part of their world like. it's like watching a video of people talking like i am not involved in that, even though they are right next to me. they will try to include me in their conversation maybe, but that's not where i am? how can we exist in the same plane?

seven. the spiral : this is a fun one ! most mutuals probably already know this because i talk about it so so darn often but irl, most people actually call me the idiot ! all of my friends from bangladesh, almost every classmate calls me the idiot, to the point where i actually rarely used to hear me real (albeit dead) name spoken out loud. this kind of ties into the "there is no such thing as a real name" thing. also sometimes, late in the night, i will see and remember things and wake up the next day to find that it never happened ever. once, i was talking to my mother and i mentioned her like going to a hostel because she told me stories of how she attended a hostel in eighth grade and she starred at me. she told me that she had never attended a hostel and i was like, yes?? you did?? you always told me about jt?? and she was genuinely scared.

eight. the vast: talked about this once before but once, i was listening to the magnus archives three in the morning, it was one of the space episodes. got scared and suddenly, i had that urge to look out the window and i saw stars. in a light pollution world, where seeing the moon is uncommon, i see five or six stars. still to this day, do not know if i was imagining things.

that is it for all the spooky happenings that are happening.

[samarecharm]

Ryuji learns immediately that Akira is a little food goblin and in the worst way possible 😭 He eats literally anything, he doesnt attempt to ‘chef up’ anything he cooks. He draws the line at expired food but the food he makes for himself looks so fucking sad (ryujis words) that it might as well be garbage. And its not that Akira Wont cook or is averse to Learning how to cook, hes just. Busy. And he really doesnt balk at what most would consider bad tasting food. But ryuji does!!! He DOES balk!!!! He balks alot in fact! So while he knows he himself is not the Best cook in the world, he IS someone raised by his momma, and he will use everything she taught him to make food that Akira will ACTUALLY like and not just tolerate.

So he takes Akira food shopping in the market, picks out vegetables and spices and meats that Akira admits (embarrassed) he has never touched in his life. He tells Akira what to look for in markets, whats normally in season, what the appropriate prices are, what different cuts of meat are meant for, and Akira follows him like a toddler following their mother, looking at the displays listening intently. Hes a smart kid. Scary smart. And he picks and chooses whats worth investing into, whether Ryuji realizes it or not. So Akira listens and absorbs whatever Ryuji is telling him, bc Ryuji matters to him.

Ryuji has him on prep work duty. He shows Akira the easy way to chop and cube vegetables. Remembers halfway through that Akira is actually wicked scary with a blade; shows him a video of a professional cutting celery at lightning speed and is SO excited to see Akira replicate it near perfectly. Hes like a machine; chopping with such laser precision and Akira cannot help but feel a little bit warm when Ryuji openly compliments him

Ryuji is so loud and brash everywhere but the kitchen. Hes focused in a way Akira has never seen him be; listing off instructions and tips, carefully adding ingredients and measuring things by eye. While making the stew, he blanks on the amount of seasoning he should be adding, and before Akira can try to help him rubberduck, Ryuji video calls his mom. And Akira almost panics bc what if she was asleep? Or what if shes working??? But she picks up after two rings, wearing a nightgown and smiling huge and wide into the camera. Ryuji waves at her, and then moves the phone a bit to get Akira into frame. He does a very chill, not at all panicked and anxious wave and she smiles at him too.

Ryuji shows her the pot stewing and she comments on the coloring and texture of it. She pokes fun at him (‘oo did you go to a fancy market? Those beef cuts looks very nice’) to which ryuji waves her off, used to her teasing.

‘Have that young man try to season it; this is a team effort!’ And so Ryuji props the phone up so that she can see him and Akira by the stove top as she guides them. A sprinkle of this seasoning from top to bottom, yes perfect, and a pinch of that seasoning- ehh a little more than that- okay perfect, and add a ton of that seasoning in front of you- more. More. Ryuji I said a Ton, tell him i said a Ton- oh right he can hear me I SAID ADD A TON- okay thats it i think, if it comes out too salty, scoop some out and replace it with more stock or some water.

And from then on Ryuji just chats with his mom while Akira watches from his side of the counter; Ryuji mentions the nice lake that he wants to try fishing at, and some nice natural paths to run on in the mornings, and she tells him about her shift and the movie she saw the other day with some friends. Its very nice. It comes so easy to them; Akira cant remember the last time he got to hear his mom just chat about her life with him. Kinda hurts, but not really. Not when hes got Sojiro calling him, telling him about his day while Akira tinkers about at his desk. Its basically the same thing; even better when Akira thinks about it.

And then he thinks some more. And into the realization that Ryuji is here with him in his house cooking and relaxing and chatting with his mom. The tv is on in the livingroom buzzing at a volume thats barely audible. The setting sun is peaking through the curtains. His mom makes a snide comment about her coworker that makes Ryuji laugh a bit under his breath, and Akira is like. Painfully aware of how nice this feels. Warm and easy. It feels a bit silly to even say it but it feels domestic; it feels like home. And hes always been here, always lived here, but it didnt feel like Home as much as it did in this moment, with Ryuji idly chatting with his mom as he tended to the pot on the stove. He wants to capture this moment and keep it tucked away somewhere. And later on, when hes staring at the ceiling, head swimming as he tries to fall asleep, he’ll think ‘no. I dont want to just have this moment. I want more moments like this. I want to live in these moments again and again and again.’ Hes greedy like that, he thinks. He wants and wants and wants; wants so bad it makes his chest ache.

The stew comes out good. A bit salty, which Ryuji remedies by adding a bit more stock to the pot after theyve had their servings. Akiras face is a mix of childlike delight and contentment, eyes bright in that sweet and adorable way that has Ryujis face turning pink, suddenly a bit shy. Being complimented about his cooking is a different kind of nice hes not used to. Akira does a little happy bop with his head, the same bop he’ll do when he eats sweets with Ann.

“This is Really good-‘

“Oi! Please chew everything first before talking.”

Akira thinks its an act of love. In the same way art from Yusuke is an act of love, and the way Hangout Nights with Ann is an act of love; this is Ryujis. I want you to eat well. I want you to be well. Because I care about you. Ryuji cares so much. To come and stay with him. To cook with him, to live with him, even if for a moment. ‘My place…is right at your side.’ ‘Whaddya mean? Youre there.’ Like it keeps Akira up at night sometimes thinking of how much hes loved. It feels so foreign to him, yet natural all at once. Waking up to the rest of the breakfast Ryuji left for him after cooking. Ryuji listening to him ramble about some tech shit Akira knows only he truly cares about (Ryuji pays attention and tries to follow which is more than Akira can ask for). Like its a bit overwhelming but its nice. Its warm and loving and its nice.

Ryuji finds himself napping against Akiras taller frame on the couch, the movie they picked out failing to keep him entertained enough, and Akira thinks Ryuji feels the same way; its warm and loving and nice.

[kringas]

The Debate

Do you think it is like.. morally questionable if your best friend is fucking your ex? Like... It wasn't a BAD breakup. It was my fault, too. I sorta stopped selling her mom weed which was apparentl

y the entire reason that she was in a relationship with me. Her mom, who is like this 5’7 Polish American milf with intense eyes and extensive knowledge of generative AI, really wanted that friends and family discount. The discount wasn’t even good, though. I don’t get. I also got into her LinkedIn and wrote multiple 6 paragraph posts about the deep state but I don’t think that was the reason that she broke up with me. That was mostly foreplay I’m like pretty sure. I don’t have the best perspective on that sorta thing. I live a life in nauseating levels of confusion constantly. Due to all the high doses of antipsychotics I have been taking (AUTHOR’S NOTE: I am not prescribed them anymore because I lost my insurance, but I wasn’t taking them when I was. I collected 9 months worth of doses and now I have been having a bit mixed in with my morning cereal. This cereal, which was, according to some sources, the Whole Foods Brand of frosted mini wheats (because they don’t have gelatin in them) is now curently Boo Berries precisely because they have gelatin in them (new carnivore diet that I am easing into) and because it is close enough to halloween that the Target by my house sells them and I am the type of person who buys groceries from Target now.) I also like being confused because everything is confusing and I would prefer that I have a medical reason for it, since, if I was just, like, confused because the world doesn’t make any sense and it is super bright and so so loud every minute of every single day, and I can’t make it go away by lowering my dose of stock piled VRAYLAR® (cariprazine), I don’t know how I’d handle it. I also hate having desires. I would do anything not to want anything. I dream of true anhedonia. I hate pleasure. I hate pleasure. I hate pleasure. I hate pleasure. I would do anything to escape it, to stray from the confines, to never pleasure seek again. To be actually free.

Did you see the debate the other night? I should also mention in this, let us call it a theoretical, your (my) best friend is fucking my (your) ex in, like, your general viscinity. Because I am all for free love and everything. I don’t put ENM in my Tinder bio but when people assume it I don’t feel that weird about it. But like it’s weird to invite me over and then invite my ex over and then have sex with her while I’m sitting in your (my?) living room. I think. I actually know like 5 people with this exact arragnement. Not in a sexual way, either. Not in a romantic way. They’re just trying to clicker train themselves out of feeling jealously, which i get becuase of my aforementioned desire to escape desire and jealously is desire. The debate was pretty crazy I think. I don’t follow politics anymore and I didn’t realize that it was an election year because we had one a few (couple?) years ago and I didn’t realize they come so often and with intensity. I remember in 2012. That was the last election. Now.

Anyways. The debate. I was sitting in the alleyway watching it on my phone because I had just dumpster dived the subway behind my apartment building and I didn’t want to bring it upstairs and then come back down to throw the trash away when the garbage can was right there. So I was sitting there, or really I was kneeling there. The laundromat also behind my building likes pouring chemicals into the alleyway and I decided that I didn’t want them on my pants. So I was kneeling there watching the debate on my phone. (AUTHOR’S NOTE: I don’t mind the chemicals in my alleyway other than the questionable enviromental impact because it means that the alleyway usually smells like a laundromat and a subway instead of garbage) and I was like, “Wow. I’m sure people on the internet are going to have lots of good thoughts about this.” but they didn’t. I’m still holding out for it though. Would it change your mind, like, at all, if I told you that both people in my story, the ex and the friend, are women? Cis women? Would that change your mind at all? Not that it’s true, but would it change your mind? I’m really trying to get a read on the gender war right now, my fingers are incompetent and poorly controlled so I can’t find the pulse or other things like my debit card in my wallet or my two lights of broadway cards also in my wallet or a paper crane an ex-friend (not the ex or the friend, ex-friend, fyi) gave me that is also in my wallet. I don’t think there is a war between men and women because I am a gender abolitionist, though I’m not super hard on that position as I’m concerned about the logistics of removing the gender marker from pre-existing driver’s licenses, as I don’t think we produce enough white-out for it to happen in any quick method nor do we have the labor power for it yet. Like would you go to the DMV and wait in line for hours and then hand your license over and then they’d white it out on the spot? I can’t imagine the complexities of this plan. If I think about it too much my heart actually starts pounding, sweat starts forming on my hairline and I have a sense that I am in a music video, but like, who would watch a music video where it’s just DMV workers whiting out the gender marker on a driver’s license? Not me. I don’t watch anything anymore. I put it on twice speed and then look at a word document while listening to it. But then what’s the point of filming them with the driver’s licenses?

I refuse to know who Donald Trump is. Why? Because I am only myself. I am me. I am one of a few hundred million. I don’t need to know. I don’t. I deserve to be selfish, right? I deserve not to worry about it because I worry about everything (animals, people, sex, VRAYLAR® (cariprazine), concepts, words on a page, wallets, cereal, gelatin, other things.) and if I worry about anything else again, I’m going to stand in traffic but the traffic slowing on my street has been effective and the streets are well lit so I won’t get hit, I’ll just get honked at, which is WORSE because it’s so loud. I spend half my day justifying my own existence and when I can’t do that, I go on Twitter and see if anyone else is publically justifiying their existence so I can project myself on them and then I feel better and I didn’t have to put any effort into feeling like a better-worse person, which is a win-win-win-win-win-win-win-win-win-win— sorry the chatbot I am using to write this got stuck in a loop and now I have to go and send messages that make it seem like it’s a personal assistant that I am emotionally abusing but that HR can’t get mad at me for.::: CAN WE SOLVE DOMESTIC ABUSE BY JUST LETTING PEOPLE ABUSE CHATBOTS? IS ABUSE A RIGHT? I have been looking for excuses for everything. Every element of my life includes an excuse. I have an excuse for my haircut.

So please, please, please, give me a read on the morals of this situation. on the ethics. on the ethics please. I need someone else to examine it all. I need to get back to ridding myself of desire and presence. Thanks. PLEASE get me those reports sent in a Word document by the end of the day, including the spreadsheet. Then text me when you send them since I will be OOO.

Yours truly,

(AUTHOR’S NOTE: Insert your boss’s name and phone number here.)

(AUTHOR’S NOTE: Please clap.)

[banannabethchase]

8 e deanseth or moxseth

Not on Twitter (But Equally Yikes) - also on AO3

~

While on vacation, Seth starts panicking on his phone. Mox is…curious.

~

“Would you put down twitter for five minutes?” Mox groans, sliding down further into the tub. “We’re on vacation, Seth.”

“Not on twitter,” Seth mutters. His fingers fly across the screen, tension in his brow.

Mox floats toward him. “Then what the fuck’re you doing?”

Seth turns the screen away, then looks at Mox with sheer panic in his eyes. “Nothing.”

“Jesus.” Mox cranes his neck. “What did you do?”

“Nothing!” Seth says. He puts his phone on the side of the hot tub away from Mox. “Want me to blow you in the tub? I can blow you.”

“Oh, you fucked up,” Mox says, grinning. “What’d you do? Tweet a photo of where we are?” He dives over Seth, and then Seth intercepts him and slams him into the water.

“No!” Seth says.

“Okay, now you’re getting me worried.” Mox chuckles, a little nervous. “Seriously. What happened?”

Seth’s face goes full red, spreading to his skin where it disappears into the bubbling water. “I texted the video.”

“Video?” Mox asks. And then he pauses. “Oh. Oh, that video.” He clears his throat. “To, uh. To who?”

Seth looks sheepish, cowed, as he grabs his phone. “Um.”

“Seth,” Mox says. He reaches out and takes the phone. “Who did you send the video to?” Mox looks down and finds his answer. “Fucking hell, Seth.”

“I didn’t do it on purpose!” Seth whines. Mox can tell he feels like garbage because his pained expression disappears beneath the surface of the water along with his hair.

He scrolls up and reads the message accompanied by the video

long time no see – thought you might wanna see a lot. Seth, btw.

“What a fucking weird way to send a sex tape message,” he mutters. He’s tempted to watch the movie, because he’s only a man, but then his eyes catch on at the reply message.

You’re a screamer. Should have seen that coming. Tell Mox he’s got a pretty dick. How’d you get my number, by the way?

Mox keeps staring until he hears the water splash. “Somehow, my first question is how the fuck do you have Hangman Page’s phone number?”

Seth whines and floats up next to Mox. He shoves his head into Mox’s shoulder. “I was trying to text Claudio and I clicked on Cowboy by accident!”

“Why were you texting Claudio our sex tape?!” Mox asks.

Seth shrugs, and those stupid doe eyes are already softening Mox. “I miss him,” he says, with a hint of a sparkle in his eyes. “And I know you and he hang out, so I figured…” He trails off.

“You still haven’t told me how you have Hangman’s number,” Mox says. “Or, actually, why you have him in your phone as Cowboy.”

Seth presses his lips together. “Um.”

“Seth. What did you do?”

“He was being a dick to you!” Seth says. “I – when you two were feuding, I texted Paige-Saraya, I mean, and she texted me his number.”

Mox holds back on asking how the fuck Saraya managed to get Adam goddamned Page’s number. “And you have him in there as Cowboy?!”

“Plausible deniability,” Seth says, like it’s a reasonable answer. “If I had Adam Page in my phone, it’d be hard to explain. If you saw it, I mean. Cowboy, on the other hand.”

“We know and can tolerate one person with a Cowboy gimmick, you fuckin’ himbo,” Mox says. He shoves Seth’s head under the water for a moment, holding the phone safely out of the way until he lets Seth up again. “You never thought to check the receiver?”

Seth snorts.

“No! No sex jokes right now!” Mox splashes him. “Fuck. Work is gonna be impossible. Hangman’s seen my dick.” He squirms. “Hangman’s seen me fuck you.”

“He’s right, though,” Seth says, and Mox isn’t sure when he’d floated over and straddled his hips. “You do have a pretty dick.” He rolls his hips down.

“Of course you’re hard,” Mox says. He settles the phone on a towel on the side of the hot tub. “Of course you are. What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“I like it when you get all rough with me,” Seth says, grinning. “And you were yelling at me a little, and you shoved my head under water.”

“Damn it,” Mox grumbles. “Now I’m getting hard.”

“Yeah,” and fuck is Seth’s smile pretty, “I know.”

“Get up on the edge,” Mox says. “I’m not blowing you in the hot tub water. I’ll drown and it’s gross to come in a public pool.”

“Technically this one is private,” Seth says. His shorts are already down his hips. Slut. Mox is in love with him.

“It’s a hotel room, dumbass,” Mox says, and he sinks his mouth down on Seth’s cock. He’s already leaking precome, desperate as always. Seth’s hands scrabble at Mox’s shoulders and neck.

“I miss when you had hair,” Seth pants. “Easier to grab onto something.”

Mox pinches his thigh and Seth yelps.

“I’m just saying!” Seth says. “Now you’re all slippery. I have nothing to –”

Mox had reached up and searched for Seth’s mouth to shove his fingers into, and found his spot before Seth could finish bitching. The silence is helpful, save for the moaning around Mox’s fingers.

Mox gets his other hand involved to roll Seth’s balls in his hand, and he grins around Seth’s dick as the moans turn to whimpers. His fingers slide out of Seth’s mouth.

“I – Mox, I’m –” Seth can’t even get out a whole sentence before he’s coming down Mox’s throat, whining some sort of desperate wail. Mox could get addicted to that sound, has gotten addicted to that sound before, and he has to reach his hand into his swim trunks to give himself a few strokes just to stay sane.

“No, mine,” Seth demands. He drops into the water next to Mox and shoves his head underwater.

Mox is too fuck-drunk to stop Seth, and he knows he’s too close for Seth to have an issue. He wraps his fingers in Seth’s hair as he does his best to count in the part of his mind not encompassed with Seth’s mouth around his dick. He’ll pull Seth off if he’s being too stupid about it, but he also knows very well that this isn’t going to last long.

He glances over to the phone where it buzzes. He wonders if it’s Hangman. He wonders if he’s watched the video of Mox fucking Seth into the hotel mattress last night, if he’s jerked off thinking of Mox and Seth together.

Mox’s fingers tighten in Seth’s hair, but, as always, Seth doesn’t take the opportunity to pull off. Probably a good thing since they’re in a hot tub.

“Christ,” Mox groans, arching his hips up and coming down Seth’s throat. Seth’s only gotten better at it over the years, more effective and intentional and bitchy about it. He yanks Seth’s head all the way up, out of the water. “You really did get good at holding your breath,” Mox pants. He falls against the side of the hot tub. “Definitely more hygienic than a hand job.”

Seth beams at him, face drenched and eyes bright. “That’s what I said. This was a humanitarian effort at fucking. We’re good people.”

“You texted us fucking to the man who hung me in March,” Mox says, grabbing Seth in a headlock. “I wouldn’t go that far.”

Seth giggles as he rolls in the water to get his legs around Mox’s chest. “Yeah, but are you actually mad at that?” He gets a look at Mox’s grin. “Yeah. Didn’t think so.”

~

Mini Playlist: Peacock - Katy Perry think later - Tate McRae FUCK - Snow Wife Sex Talk - Kim Petras

Video didn't kill the wrestling star, but it sure embarrassed him.

[madness-of-void]

The Cosplay Progress (?)

Okay...I'm doing it. I'm showing off the hot mess of progress of the possibly decent, or absolutely hot garbage, cosplay of my version of human!Ink. I do have a nice chunk of the items for the cosplay - just gotta put it together. Most of the putting together can be done in a day, and I have until July to finish it all, soooo...we'll see how this goes! ^^;

Now I'll just post updates maybe every other day, or once a week, since I do have most of it in hand. And it will all be under the cut, since it'll long as fuck. So, without further ado, let's begin, shall we?

First off, this is probably the most ambitious cosplay I've ever done. Normally I do something easy. Examples: Stiles from TW, casual Keith from VLD, and recently (for Halloween) genocide route Frisk. debating on positing what garbo pics i have of those

Flowerfell!Frisk? Probably the most complex I've done, and only because I had to have help make a flower crown, actually use fabric glue for the flowers and little heart on the shorts and flower on the mask , painted up a random prop stick I had lying around no idea why i had that , and did a little bit of faint make-up. And ended up with this:

bad pic i know but it's all i got of the full thing where i don't look like a drowned rat coz goddamn it was hot af

So after that, for some damned reason, I decided it would be a GREAT idea to do a difficulty jump and do Ink! Yaaaaay...I'm so smart. I have been looking at this as a reference for what I need mostly coz i had it saved on my phone already , which has been both motivation to get this done...but also a little intimidating. But I'm already too far into this. Can't back out now!

Anyways, enough rambling! Let's start with the first update on this silly thing!

HOODIE

So, firstly, I already had my eye on the Ink hoodie from @simakai's shop! I already have the Underfell one that I used for my Flowerfell!Frisk cosplay. I also have the Outertale hoodie, bi pride hoodie, and ace pride hoodie all from Simakai! They are all amazing hoodies, and I actually just bought Epic's hoodie from their new shop! Definitely check them out! They're comfy, well made, and I'll admit I wear my Outertale and Underfell hoodies out sometimes.

The pic doesn't do it justice (hence all the millions of links above), but tada! The hoodie! My biggest worry is maybe tripping on the scarf, but I think I can manage. place your bets coz my ass clumsy

Also, there is a little surprise in it!

Twas quite the laughing jumpscare when I was messing with the pockets.

And that's it for update 1! Stay tuned for more. >:3

~+~

Update 2 time!

Apologies for how garbage the pics are for this part. Space was a mess at the time, and I'm too lazy to redo it. With that out of the way...let's ramble!

PANTS

So, next to the sash for the vials, this was surprisingly the hardest thing for me to find. I couldn't find anything that looked "just right". The first pair that I bought did look just right...but the color was way off. Way too bright from what was advertised. Took me a while to find another pair, and I actually bought two more. one of which i may use for a ftfo!ink Now, the next pair is the right color...but it's just a nice pair of sweats/joggers. Which is a bit of a bummer, but seeings how I cannot sew/make a full blown pair of pants (can barely sew at all), and my stepmom (who can sew) isn't that insanely skilled, they will have to do.

Here is a pic of the pants side-by-side coz for the longest time I was going to go with the first pair I bought. But after putting it together with the top...no. Just...no. Did not look good. You'll have to take my word for it.

And before you ask, yes. I will have assistance sewing on the little suspenders. That will be two separate posts on their own in the future! It won't be just plain brown pants.

So that's it for update 2! Stay tuned for more! if you want i ain't forcing ya lols

~+~

Update number 3! Wooooo!

And it is actually really boring.

Like...royally boring. sorry?

GLOVES

So these were a bit easy to get. Granted, I did buy two pairs, because I couldn't decided initially. It was only after trying them on that I could make a decision.

They are a bit long, but I can live with that. especially coz I am not planning on doing the tatts, that would end terribly And, yes, they are missing that little piece on the pinky. Just like the pants are missing the suspenders. And just like with those, I will be having assistance sewing that piece on!

I could show you want I have of that, but I'm planning on making that one big update.

Okay! That's it! Stay tuned for update 4!

~+~

Update 4! Not another exciting one again. The more exciting ones will slowly trickle in. depending on what you define as exciting

Anywho! Update 4!

SHOES

Yes. Shoes. I know our favorite souless bean doesn't wear shoes anymore...but I have to. No need to get my toes all messed up! Especially at this convention center. Walking around there can be a nightmare! Closed toed or not. 😭

Anyway!

Shoes!

They were sadly kind of expensive, but these were the closest I could find that kind of fit for what I was going for and i looked at custom ones first. Plus, I will be wearing these outside of the cosplay. So I get shoes for cosplay, and shoes for whenever I wanna wear them - a win-win.

But, one more thing! I will also I guess ruin them, in a way. How will I ruin them? Well...I was thinking of adding more splatter to them. Plus, see that pesky logo? Welp...I also had an idea for that.

And I'll just leave this update at that. >:3

~+~

Update 5! Long time coming, I know. But a lot of what I have left are bigger pieces that have a few extra things I gotta do, and I just haven't been focused on doing them. But since I'm actually going to finish this one this weekend, I decided to show the unfinished product. With that being said, here we go!

VIALS

These were actually so hard to find! I couldn't find anything that worked! And I originally started looking during the Halloween season, too! When these type of things would be more around. But everything was either way too big or just straight up decorative glass. Which...yeah. Would not do!

Eventually, after searching for ages, I found these on Etsy.

They're originally for necklaces, which, even though they are glass, they're hopefully a tad more sturdy. And, if things work out, I'll have a perfect way to keep them in the sash! We shall see.

I also found these!

Figured it would be fun to have little earrings on human!Ink.

Now, for the paints in the vials, I was having a hard idea what to do. Part of me wanted to put real paint in there. Yeaaaaah...probably not the best idea. But I finally figured it out, and I'll be working on it this weekend!

Stay tuned for the final look!

~+~

Hello hello hello! Tis time for the final rush post of the process! It's all the final stuff, so yay. Pics of the full cosplay will be up either later on after the con, or the day after.

So, without further ado...here we go!

PANTS PART II

Tada! Simple little thing. Probably one of the easiest to do with the whole shebang. And the straps?

Ribbon. Ain't that neat? XD

GLOVES PART II

So this was a bit tricky. I had cloth from an old t-shirt to do for the pinky, but it kept making the sewing machine freak the fuck out since it's such a small piece. I did have backups of gloves that i could wear under the brown ones and cut off all the other fingers. Unfortunately, the two pairs I got turned out to be bright, obnoxious blue instead of the sort of teal-ish/mint color as advertised. So I had to get a third pair, which was a darker green and sheer. Not exactly what I wanted, but eh. Oh well. Creative liberties!

Here is the final result! I had to cut the pinky on the brown gloves too so it looked a little better. And the nail polish is close to what they'll be at the con, just more cleaned up.

SHOES PART II

Okay! Shoes! These came out a little better than I thought they would! And they were fortunately very easy to do. (Which I needed after a few things causing issues)

Tada! Fun little nod to his old shoes (before he had nada)! And of course the black "ink". The paint refused to splatter like I wanted, but oh well. Still pretty happy about it.

VIALS PART II

These actually proved to be more difficult than I anticipated. Many coats were needed, and even then they sort of still smeared oddly. Despite that, they turned out pretty great! I especially love the ink vial earrings. Those definitely were difficult due to their size.

SASH

Whoo-hoo! The sash! Fortunately, my stepmom is a sewing whiz and she helped a great deal with making sure this part of the cosplay came to be. So, here is the sash before:

Definitely was a bit rough, since the Joanne's we went to lost all momentum to care since the bankruptcy filing. And it did fray a little bit upon the cutting of the pattern. Not enough to absolutely ruin it, thank hell.

Here is the final result:

(Sorry about the poor lighting, I really had nowhere else to get a decent pic)

Tada! Vials in sash! Thankfully, they all are snug as a bug in a rug in those pockets! .... With super glue. Really didn't have a choice on that front. Still, for something as ambitious as this, something I definitely went clueless in to, happy it turned out as good as it did.

(Stepmom saved ass with this one ❤️)

WIG

Okay! This...this bitch...was a nightmare. I had never styled a wig before, and for some reason thought it would be a good idea if I did! Had a nice tutorial vid all qued up and thought I was all set! Except...the wig was an absolute tangled mess and took ages to untangle. It was also the second wig I had bought, coz the first one, for some unknown reason, was more purple than advertised. So wig number two, I had to buy in a hurry and it was a tad cheap since I'm on a bit of a budget (moving at the start of August ftw).

But, finally, after hours of fighting with this beast, this is the end result:

The braid will be pulled back into the makeshift ponytail, since I actually do have to pull it back up once it is secured onto my head, but otherwise this is the final result. The blue and pink (squint and you'll see it) are extensions I added, which also proved to be a challenge. Still proud of it all for someone who has never done more than brush a wig before! Though, never again. At least for a long ass while. ;_; thank you Dust for being an easy cosplay for next year

MAKEUP

I can't really show the full makeup I have to do until, well, it's all done, but I have tried it all out and hooray! It all works! So, instead, here is the nice pile I will have to use:

We got two different shade of eyeshadow, since I can't do colored contacts. My eyeballs are...very weird. Only one eye will allow a colored contact, and I did not wanna waste money to only use one contact. So one eye will have green eyeshadows, and the other will have yellow eyeshadows.

There's also gonna be blue eyeliner with the green eye having it on the underlid, and they yellow eye having it on the upper lid. To make it all "whimsical" and "silly".

There's a pencil liner to create the inkblot shape, black face paint to fill it in, and black eyeshadow to help make it even darker. i am a master of doing some cool shit with eyeshadow

I have two different sprays to help keep the makeup on longer. And, of course, the foundation and concealer coz I will look like a zombie otherwise lols.

Yeah...I am...gonna be having a blast with this lot. Especially making sure I can remake the really nice inkblot I did when testing it out. Fingers crossed and best wishes for my dumb ass for being so ambitious.

BROOMIE

No. I will not show this one. Just picture a wig on a stick and there you go. Needless to say, as much as I wanted to like it...I don't. It looks so bad. 99% sure I will not bother bringing bootleg Broomie with me. Makes me sad, but hey...can't win them all.

Okay, so that's it! I'll do a part two of this post since, whoops! I have hit my limit! So, with the next post, I'll have the bag I specifically got for this cosplay (and will totally be using it later), and the full cosplay itself!

And, if anyone is going to AX, I'll see you there mayhaps!

[the0ther-side0f-dawn]

my childhood best friend threw away a decade of friendship like it was garbage and i was the mouldy stinky bin juice in the bottom of the bag, because it was convenient. and even years later she couldnt accept accountability or acknowledge that I didn't deserve that, and that I was actually blameless. and it keeps me up wondering what she actually thinks I did to wrong her. like im perplexed.

for context, the drama, and the saucy deets:

we were best friends from ages like 5-16, but i was a year older. and right after i graduated high school, she got caught out by her parents for having a secret Facebook profile, and it turns out she actually did so much shady stuff (talked mad shit about her family, and also told extremely comical lies in DMs to friends of hers), was posting about how she was suicidal, etc. and even actually had a heap of her posts censored from me (like full on having a second life...) and she pinned it on me. said i was posing as her.

i have no idea why she decided to just turn on me. she later said its bc she was mad i didnt make plans with her before i moved away for college, but this happened months before i moved.

we had a falling out earlier that year that we didnt really patch up very well. she brought a new friend into our group, and her and that new friend decided to turn on our other friend and make her life a living hell, simply because she answered a question in class, with a different interpretation to their answers, and they were embarrassed. it was petty and disgusting, and i refused to stand by it. they isolated themselves from our group at school, and i started distancing myself from her outside of school, bc all she wanted to do was talk smack about our other friend. i didnt have the balls to stand up to her, but i refused to be associated with her bullying campaign. they blocked me on socials, and i had to make a vague callout post to get her attention and tell her to cut her shit out and apologise or we would take the evidence of her bullying to the school administration. and she was like "im so sorry if i did what you said i did, ive honestly disassociated the last few months and i dont remember" which is the biggest pile of horse shit. it like she didnt do the same thing 5 years earlier, at a different school with different friends, when a new girl came along, and she froze out the other girl in the group. thats what we call a pattern of toxic behaviour.

anyway, end of year rolls around, and i was trying to book a camping trip away with all the girls, to celebrate my graduation. but she just didnt ask her parents. but our mothers are friends and they had talked about it, and her mother told my mum, that she could go, but all she had to do was actually ask her for herself. and she didnt. i think her mum ended up confronting her about it and she denied even knowing about it. even tho she and i, and my mother had all discussed it together. so her mother knew she was lying.

her mum got really suspicious. it transpired and her mum confiscated her phone and went through it, and discovered her secret Facebook account. and it was a few weeks before she pinned it on me. and her mum just ate that up because she was in denial about her good little catholic daughter actually being p fucked up. in those weeks before she blamed me, her mum suggested us all getting together and working things out, but i refused,

because i was 16 and not about to have my mummy fix my friendship, as if that would even work. you just tell your mum what she wants to hear so she will leave you alone. plus i was deep in the closet and didnt want my friend to out me, and i thought she might just be desperate and spiteful enough to do that (plus i had a falling out with a different friend the year before, and that friend did threaten to out me). further, there is absolutely no privacy in having your parents manage your social interactions, and without privacy there is no honesty, and therefore nothing is genuine or productive. it would just be a very uncomfortable afternoon of make believe and i wasnt in the mood.

so flash forward, she blames everything on me, bc im moving away and im a easy scapegoat, and i guess our friendship wasnt worth all that much to her. just before i move away i send her an email. this friend had blocked me on everything. but she couldnt block me on her schhool email, and i knew her mum wouldn't see it since it wasnt on her phone. so i sent her a email, bc our friendship didn't mean nothing to me. and i was willing to forgive, if she would just be honest and take some accountability, i wasnt asking for much. i basically said 'hey, i know shit sucks for you right now. i dont understand everything that has happened, but i am here for you. if you want to talk and work things out, if you need a friend - i will listen, but only on the condition that our communications are private" and i thought that was very reasonable. but she was either deep in her delusions, or deep in paranoia, or on some sort of baseless vendetta... but she printed it out and took it home to her mum and said i was "threatening her into silence" go figure?! i was 200km away at this point. i assume a threat had some sort of implied follow-through? what was she scared i would do? take a hit out on her? expose her deepest secrets? bitch theyre already exposed. her mum had her phone. she literally had nothing to gain from that move?

this went down during my first week of college, when i was just a small town girl with big anxiety in the big city, and it really made that week so much worse and so much more stressful. i was starting a terrifying new chapter of my life, whilst dodging shrapnel from my old life blowing up behind me. it wasnt a good time.

at this stage, i figured Fuck Her. i gave her my olive branch and she snapped it and threw it back in my face. i was hurt and grieving the friendship that was embedded in every stage of my life thus far, but also Fuck Her.

several years later, she reaches out. she's all like "im on this path of self improvement and its a really important step in my journey to make amends. im sorry for the role i played in our friendship falling apart, but i think we can both acknowledge we made mistakes and are equally to blame" or something like that. it read like she was in a 10 step program. but i wasnt feeling it. she thinks we were equally to blame? someone's been living in Delulu. the fuck did i do? sure i refused to attend the theatre production of "mummy mediation" but i hardly thinks that's equivalent to mercilessly bullying a mutual friend, pretending it was an accidental, and saying that your evil online alter ego was actually me. so like one missed tea party versus years of bullying and bad mouthing and backstabbing? gee, i dont know which is worse. it really is a close call. Equal? Equal my ass.

and so i asked her, what is it that you think I did? and she's like you were organising this trip with everyone, but not anything with just me. I thought i was your best friend and you acted like I wasnt important at all. which is utter codswallop btw. i hadnt organised anything with her, because it didn't need organising. there were weeks left of summer break, and we live like 20 minutes walk from each other. i was probably going to see her multiple times a week. she was grasping at straw.

i p much told her just that, and then some. I thought her apology was empty and that she should come back if, or when, she's ever willing to acknowledge the things she did. i said i think that all of this stems from her mummy issues, and she should try going to therapy to fix that. but if she's still too scared to be honest with her mother, and if she needs to believe she didn't do an anything wrong in order to sleep at night, go for it, but im not interested in playing along with that delusion. im out. and i blocked her.

i only reached out once more, relatively recently, to give her some news, since a girl we were close friends with in junior primary died, and i thought she had a right to know.

but then i skedaddled out of there and blocked her, bc after many years of reflection, i could see that she wasn't someone i wanted in my life, and i wasnt going to allow her an opening to darken my doorstep. and like these are just the highlights. I didn't even mention how every time i wanted to vent about my mum having hurt or insulted me, she would just dismiss me and say "but i like your mum". like okay, i like bread but that doesnt mean it wouldn't fuck up a celiac. way to be insensitive and show that you're unable to look past your own experiences and insecurities to empathise with someone else. like that girl really needs help and from what i hear, she isnt looking for it in the right places, but that's her business i guess.

anyway, let me know in the comments how i wronged her? what did i do to deserve to be treated like the mud under her boots? should i have played her stupid games?

come back next week to hear about the time i told my friend i needed her to stop talking down to me and respect my personal space and she thought i meant she was a terrible person and that i hated her guts for not reciprocating my crush (which i gaslit myself into fabricating, bc previously she said she had feelings for me and i thought Welp. this is probably the only chance i will ever get in my whole life to be loved). AND she also thought we should have our mummies fix it for us.

just kidding.

in case she actually sees this (she doesn't have me blocked, and probably has my tumblr). i fully forgive her. our mental states were both fragile and fucked and i was a coward about how i brought up the things that were making me uncomfortable and i just think we both probably navigated the situation as best as we could have done at that time.